He walked forward a few leisurely paces in the silence, as though he had come merely to peruse the tapestries that hung on the wall. His eyes roamed over everything – the windows, the table and the basket of apples upon it, her mother – until finally his eyes touched her face. There was a flutter in her belly, so strong and strange that her hands flew up to it in surprise. In the same instant, she felt his attention move to her hands, her stomach. Instinctively she covered the move with a more familiar gesture, gripping her sword and frowning her confusion at him.

Immediately, she knew her mistake. His eyes froze on her hands, her sword, the center of an unintentional stance that signaled doubt and aggression. Too late, she forced her hands away, letting them hang at her sides as she breathed deep.

Too late, because his face had already hardened to stone and turned away from her.

“My ladies, Lord Morency has traveled far to join you.”

Gwenllian had not noticed the priest who had entered with Ranulf. He was a little man who had served this place for years, whom she avoided as she did all church men, but seemed harmless and agreeable enough. Now she saw that he was anxious and uncertain, his eyes darting between Ranulf and herself as he walked toward where she stood.

It made her want to rest her hand on her sword again, this time in warning. The priest wore a look of such condescension, such pitying contempt, that she could not stop her own hostility from showing on her face.

“I would have Lady Gwenllian return to my keeping, for she is mine as commanded by king and ordained by God.” Ranulf’s voice reached her, a light and faintly amused tone in it. But he looked to her mother, and not to his wife. “Your good priest has agreed to meddle in your affairs.”

Her mother seemed to find this to be a deeply interesting idea, raising her brows and uttering an enlightened, “Ah!”

“In faith, daughter,” said the priest earnestly to Gwenllian, “where your husband wishes you, there should you go. Is natural to feel love and loyalty to your mother, yet we are taught that marriage must by necessity supplant the earlier bond.”

Gwenllian stared at the man, at a loss to respond. He made it sound so logical, so easy that she wished she could believe in it. Cleave to her husband, as a woman ought, without question or doubt. She would never have to wonder what to do and where to love, if only she would obey men like this one.

“You must know that you risk your immortal soul, to continue in this sin. Often have I cautioned your mother against your style of dress, that it is a transgression that can only lead to greater sin. I have prayed for you...”