Gwenllian flinched. She had braced herself for talk of his mistresses, not his murders. “Maude would have tempted a saint to murder, I remember her well,” laughed the older woman, and Gwenllian heard no more as they chattered on, her mind now turned to the story he had told her about the wives who had come to Morency before her. The wives he said Aymer had killed. Had he said they were killed? No – beaten, he had said. One hanged herself after a beating, the other beaten badly and did not live. He had not seemed regretful or defiant when he spoke of them to her. Nor had he seemed proud, as he had when he spoke of killing Aymer. But why would he want to kill them? It made no sense. It was idle gossip, surely.

As if to answer her thoughts, the older woman said, “All with child when they died, of course. An estate with no natural heir, and the old king owed Lord Ranulf a debt for ending Aymer, who conspired with Kenilworth against the king, you know. None like to remember those evil days when the throne was uncertain, but old King Henry was known to mistrust Aymer of Morency and was glad to see him dead. The whispers then were that the king in secret ordered his death, and promised the young Ranulf the title and estate in return.”

At this, the young woman gasped and crossed herself. Pious cow, thought Gwenllian. It was all old news, anyway – she herself had heard these rumors years ago. She had never questioned that. Everywhere, Ranulf of Morency was known to be the king’s favorite trained killer. But never had she heard the rumor that he also killed Aymer’s wives, and the babes in their bellies. Were it true, it would mean that he had plotted for the Morency lands long before her betrothal, even. Little wonder, then, that he fought these many years in court against her claim on the estate. Many times, she had asked the lawyers if they could not come to some agreement that might satisfy both him and her mother, suggesting various ways they might settle the matter. The title but no lands, or the title and half the land, or any other combination of rights that might end the old argument. But he had made it clear that he would give no quarter. Not a blade of Morency grass will he yield, the lawyer had written to her.