“If things change,” said Alice, “I’m sure we will go again next time. And I promise to see that you go with me.”

“It’s no matter, my lady. You are too good to me. And indeed, I am very happy here.” The needle paused again. “But you said … I thought you said that my lord duke was planning a journey? For his soul’s sake, you said? And that you might be home by June? What is there, as near as that? Oh, yes, there’s the holy man up on Table Hill, or the Chapel Perilous where the High King’s sword was kept and drawn, but that’s hardly a Christian shrine, and your father wouldn’t want to go there. It can’t just be another ride to the convent where your lady mother lies buried – that’s hardly a pilgrimage, is it? Nine miles, ten? So where is there to go, besides Jerusalem?”

Alice laughed. “You sound just like me! Only one place in the world for you – Jerusalem for you, Castle Rose for me! But we’re both going to Tours.”

“Tours? Where’s that?”

“In Gaul. It’s in King Chlodomer’s country, quite a long way to the south. The king’s capital is Orleans, but Father says that Tours is a nice enough town. It’s set on a big river, the Loire, that runs through beautiful country, and very rich. It sounds lovely. He says that the old queen – that’s the king’s mother – spends a lot of time there, and she’s very devout, so the accommodation for pilgrims is good. Not that that is a consideration, of course.”

“Of course not,” agreed Mariamne gravely. “And if it’s far enough to the south, it might even be warm. So what takes the Christians to this city of Tours?”

“The shrine of St Martin. He was a bishop, I think.” Alice was vague. “Anyway, he does a lot of miracles. Father didn’t tell me much, but he did say that the old king, King Clovis, that was Chlodomer’s father, was baptised there. He turned Christian in gratitude for winning some battle or other. Queen Clotilda was a Christian, and she persuaded him. I don’t know who he was fighting; they’re always at war over there, Father says.”

The duke had in fact told his daughter a good deal.

Men’s fears about the turmoil on the Continent following the death of King Clovis had been more than justified. As was the custom among the Salian Franks (“And a foolish one, as we see it,” said Ansirus), the lands which Clovis during a lifetime of war had conquered and brought under one central government, were divided after his death among his four sons. The eldest, Theuderic, son of one of the king’s concubines, inherited large territories in the north; Chlodomer, the legitimate heir, received the fertile lands along the River Loire; Childebert, the third son, took a broad swathe of coastal land from the Loire to the Schelde, while the fourth son, Lothar, was granted territory north of the river Somme, along with part of Aquitaine. The partition was far from equal, and the consequent quarrelling among the brothers made travel through the Salian lands dangerous, even for pilgrims.