He explained then, as briefly and reasonably as he could manage, how he had thought to travel to a place not far out of Hereford but had ventured too far along an obscure path in his efforts to avoid the hospitality of the Earl of Gloucester. His personal mislike for Gloucester was well-matched to Edward’s unease with that man’s ambition, so it was a sound enough reason to give. No doubt he had passed near the lands of any number of other earls and barons, and he was confident enough that he would be able to supply a ready excuse for not stopping at any of them. The eternal politics of the nobility was tiresome, but wonderfully useful at times like these. It was the fact that he had been discovered alone that was unavoidable, and inexplicable.

He focused on the drama of his injury, the sudden attack in the twilight and waking in a hut with wounds and fever dreams. There was no way of knowing if Edward had yet spoken with any of the Ruardean party, but Ranulf decided to speak truth in any case. Lies would serve no purpose except to save him the embarrassment of admitting infirmity, and to be caught in a lie would be yet more shameful, and dangerous.

“So you wander alone into a Welsh wood and are brought back by an armed guard. Am I to believe you were not avoiding me?”

“Never would I tell my lord king what he should believe. I can only say that I wished to...” He could not think of how to say it without telling all the embarrassing truth.

“What was this wish? Come now, we will have your story or we are forced to open our ears to the many tales that others are eager to invent.”

The sudden shift to regal language was like a slap across the face. It woke him up, as no doubt Edward meant it to. This was a displeased king and not a conversation between friends, like the many they had shared in years gone by.

“Before answering the call to court, I had urgent need to visit the White Monks there. I had not thought the journey would take so long, but is a place so isolate that a traveler is reduced to praying for a sign of sheep’s shit to show him which way civilization lies. By my right hand, it was to be naught but a few days’ detour.”

Edward seemed to consider this. “You never arrived then, at the White Monks?”

“I know not if I even came close to the abbey. Is newly built, and still small. I did send word ahead to the brothers, if there be any doubt of my intent.” The unsigned note he had hastily sent to the abbey would do nothing to clear any doubts, if the abbot even remembered it after so many weeks.