For Alice, the moment was the one where the anxious mariner sees the lights of harbour. Or, more practically – and Alice was always practical – the moment of recognising the future master of her beloved Castle Rose, the man to whom she could go not merely in duty, but with joy as a lover; the young and eager sword that would keep herself and her people safe and in peace when their old lord had left them.

Whatever their eyes and spirits said to one another, their tongues found themselves uttering the normal civil commonplaces of strangers meeting for the first time in a place new to both. Alexander’s outburst was ignored; Alice hardly knew how to reply to it, or even whether to take it seriously, and Alexander himself was not even sure that he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

So, sitting down beside her on the grass, he hurried now to say something of the beauty of the day, the welcoming comfort of the monastery; he hoped that the duke’s party was well housed, wondered how long they had been on the road, and – the nub of it at last – how long they proposed to stay at St Martin’s?

“Only a few more days. We are making for home after a journey abroad, but we had to stay here awhile. My father and the abbot had business to discuss.”

Business to discuss? A terrifying thought made him catch his breath. Perhaps this lovely girl was destined to become a nun? But before he could speak she smiled, and said calmly, as if answering him: “My father will one day enter this monastery, but now we came only to accompany someone who seeks refuge here. A boy from the Frankish kingdoms who was in danger there, and who also seeks the religious life.”

“From Gaul? Wait – you said your father was Duke Ansirus? He whom they call the pilgrim duke?”

“The same.”

“I have heard of him, of course. And of you, too. I believe our families have some connection, and I have heard my mother speak of the duke and his daughter. They call you ‘the pretty pilgrim’. Did you know?”

“They mock me, I think,” said Alice. She spoke quite without coquetry.

“Mock you? How could that be, when –?” began Alexander, hotly, but, partly to prevent a repetition of his first outburst, she said quickly: “Indeed yes! I believe it’s thought strange for a young girl – and I’ve travelled with my father since I was six years old – to go on these long journeys and mingle with rough folk on the road, and sometimes meet with danger, or at any rate the risk of it. But I wouldn’t have had it otherwise. I’ve seen wonderful things, and been to beautiful places. I don’t think I shall ever forget them as long as I live.”

“And now that your father plans to retire into the Order here, won’t you find life dull and stale after so much adventure?”