Only a fool would think her incapable of her own defense. But he only said, “Is a rare devotion.”

“I think not rare. All men are so devoted to their liege.”

She turned to Hugh Wisbech, bidding him describe the state of the deer park.

The minstrels sang, and the night came on. He looked out at the gathering of strangers in the hall, and ruminated on this devotion that she believed so common, but that he had never known.

When the meal was done, he took himself to the chapel. He knelt and prayed and thought of Alice. The chapel had been her favorite place, because she was safe here. He stayed until his legs were numb, straining for any sound or sight of her ghost, knowing that it would not visit him in such a sacred place. Perhaps it would never visit him again.

He walked in the dark from the chapel, through the courtyard, the new liveliness of the place at war with the memories he could not escape. From shadowy corners that he could only think of as dangerous and lonely, he heard soft and relaxed banter. Worse than the dark memories were those that were filled with warmth, the ones he could not forget.

There before the northwest tower was where Aymer had presented him with his first horse, a gift for a birthday long past. He had been a poor rider before then, but Aymer would hear no ill of him, not even in so small a thing. He gave Ranulf a horse and took over his lessons himself, showing such patience and pride through all the long hours of learning that all marveled to see it. Ranulf never sat a horse without thinking of it, without hearing Aymer’s instruction and praise.

And there in a corner next to the main stair was where Ranulf had crouched to hide his tears when he learned of his real father’s death. He had barely known his father. It was Aymer who had found him there and comforted him, telling him all that he knew of Ranulf’s father. He had pulled off his own warm cloak and wrapped it around Ranulf as he shivered, called for a servant to bring a hot drink, and told him he must grow strong and wise to be a credit to his father’s memory. Of course, when the drink was not hot enough, Aymer had also ordered that the servant be scalded so that she might never make that mistake again. And when Maude had dared to protest it, she was left black and blue. But what care did Ranulf have of that cruelty, when he was so well loved? How quickly he had given his heart to this new father, when his real father was still fresh in the grave.