She had thought perhaps it was her mother who would not settle for less than all of it. The lawyer had insisted, though, over and over again, that it was Morency who would not budge. And so the lawyers grew fat on their fees, and Ranulf of Morency held possession of the lands and title he had killed for. It was reasonable to believe, her Master Edmund would say, that a soul who can kill an old man in his bed and smile about it, can also kill a wife and her unborn babe without pain to his conscience. Easier still to lie about it later.

She did not know how long she sat, engrossed in her thoughts, trying to decide whether he would have killed women, whether he had lied. Above all, she tried to decide why either of these it should matter to her at all. She was not used to being so confused by a person. She had taken the measure of many a man; it was straightforward enough work. But it was proving an impossible task, to see him clearly. She thought of him and all she saw was the arrogant set of his mouth, then his grim determination as he swung his sword, then the curl of damp hair on his temple, up close while she smelled his skin and tasted his lips and heard his breath as quick and hot as her own.

“You are the Lady Gwenllian?” A girl stood before her, head cocked curiously. At Gwenllian’s nod of assent, she broke into a smile. “My lord de Vere sent me to fetch you. Will you come?”

The stone face of the Madonna held nothing but pity and patience. He prayed to her more ardently than he ever had, feeling the danger of this place press in upon him. Shield me from villainy, he begged silently, and from all wicked company.

It was not hard to recall his vision of Alice here, as he knelt in the Lady Chapel. Indeed, he had to wonder if it was the Virgin, wearing Alice’s face, who had come to him in his dreams all those months ago. Being no priest, he had not considered it, just as he had not considered why he had stopped praying to the Holy Mother or seeing Alice’s face everywhere, from the moment he had woken on a sickbed in the Welsh wilderness. But he found he must consider it now. Every man has a day of reckoning. Aymer had always said so.