In the five days since she had set his arm aright, he had not looked at her. Her men seemed to have extended him a welcome, which she both feared to forbid and feared to let grow into a real camaraderie. His arrogance knew no bounds, but he no longer sought to stir up strife within her company. At last, it seemed, he had accepted his position, temporary though it might be. Even now, he helped them in their labor, as Gwenllian did. She looked to where he stood with her squire Davydd, and saw there was something wrong. She could not hear from so far away, but it was plain there was some disagreement between them, so she made her way toward them.

It was strange to see him at odds with Davydd, for she had noticed the two got on well. The boy looked at Morency with awe plain in his eyes, which no doubt pleased Morency’s arrogance immensely. But it was more than that. She thought of the conversation around the fire two nights ago, when the men had ruthlessly teased Davydd over his shyness around the village girl back at Ruardean whom Davydd clearly fancied. The girl had copper hair and came inside the curtain wall each week to bring honey to the manor kitchens. Each time she did, Davydd contrived to put himself in her path, and the men had noticed. They were laughing at his blushing around the girl, and it was Morency who had taken pity on the boy squirming with embarrassment. He had clapped a hand on Davydd’s slender shoulder and said a boy was required to be foolish in love a great many times before he can be called a man. He had turned the talk after that to the other men, and in no time the men were laughing instead at their own first fumblings at courtship. No doubt Davydd took heart to learn that though he was painfully awkward, at least he had never, unlike Thomas, tried to win over a girl with a fistful of wildflowers that caused her hands to burn and itch for days.

Gwenllian bit her own lips against a smile, remembering how Thomas had wiped away tears of mirth and said, “Oh, she hated me ever after. Four babes now and married to the miller’s son, but she still hides her hands behind her back when she sees me.” And Davydd had gone from abject humiliation to laughing with the rest of them.

Almost she could like Morency, doing that simple kindness for an awkward boy. The other men might not have seen it, and Davydd did not. But she saw Morency take pity on him in that moment, and act on that pity. It was a small thing, but he was maybe not the monster the whispers would have him.