He swallowed and said, “I saw naught to make me think the place does not prosper. Someone must rule in the absence of Lord Walter. If his brother is not fit for it, his wife does well enough, though in truth is a fortress strong enough that even an ignorant babe could keep it from any evil.”

Burnell gave a grunt and looked keenly at him. “Strong, aye. And clever, that she sent you here. But you would have come even if she were not so strong, of course.”

He thought it better not to answer that, and so merely looked at Burnell.

“Is the daughter who has sent me word.” Robert de Vere spoke from the corner of the room where he had sat, silent and watching. “Lady Gwenllian. Sent no doubt to make her courtesy to the king, but also to speak to him on another matter, I believe.”

All the men in the room turned their eyes on Ranulf, for reasons he could not fathom. When none spoke, he nodded slightly. “Aye, she was in the party that escorted me here.” And it would seem she had packed a dress.

“Well, by all means, let us go and meet her, if all is ready.” Edward looked to Burnell, who nodded, and then they were all on their feet.

He’d been too relieved that Edward had accepted his reasons for avoiding him, and giddy to know that some bloody task did not await him here. But now the warm glow he had begun to feel from a belly full of ale was replaced with a cold lump of apprehension as he perceived some hidden purpose in all this. He could sense that a decision had been made, almost certainly about Gwenllian or her home, and it unnerved him not to know what it was. His mind cast about in confusion of what it might be, trying to remember all that had been said in the last hour, while he ate and drank and felt safe again.

It finally came to him as he stepped into the hall, his eye caught by Burnell leaning toward Edward’s ear to whisper something Ranulf could not hear. Burnell was head of Chancery, and a bishop of the Church.

It must be the old law suit. A decision had been made about the suit.