It was the young man whom she had glimpsed at the back of the hall where the queen received them. Seen now in the sunlight, he was tall, dark-haired and dark-eyed, soberly dressed in a fawn-coloured tunic with an over-robe of dark brown. The chain of office on his breast was of silver, and from it hung the queen’s badge, gilded. There was a brooch at his shoulder of worked silver, and at his belt, which was of good leather tanned and glossy as a horse-chestnut, hung a wallet and a bunch of keys. The queen’s steward, Theudovald had said. A trusted servant. But, thought Alice, a foreigner, surely? He did not look like a Frank. A Roman, perhaps? One of those unfortunates, often of good or even noble family, who had been taken in war and enslaved by the Frankish conquerors?

But it seemed not. Before the man could speak, Mariamne, flushed and excited, was there at his elbow.

“Lady Alice! Just imagine! He’s from my own country – the next village! And here in Tours! Isn’t it like a miracle?”

The young man straightened from his bow. Alice, hands still gripping her skirts, stood stock-still, staring up at him.

“You?”

It came out as a kind of gasp.

His brows went up. “Madam?” Then his face lighted to a smile. “Why, it’s the little maid! The little maid from Jerusalem! No longer a little maid, but a lady grown, and a lovely lady, too! How is it with you, and with the little blue sheep of your British hills?”

“I thought you were Jesus.” The words came out with all the force of simplicity. Next moment she would have called them back, and felt herself going scarlet. She added, quickly: “I was very young then, and you were carrying a lamb, and you seemed to know who I was, and – please don’t laugh! I’ve always remembered it, and I know it was silly, but sometimes I tried to pretend it was true.”

He did not laugh. He said gravely: “You did me honour. If I had known, I would have told you that I was only a farmer’s son, and a very ordinary man, but that my name was – is – in fact Jesus.” He smiled at her look. “We do not think as you do about using that name, little maid. But here I am known as Jeshua. It is the same name, and you would find it easier to use, I think?”

“I – yes, of course. So – how do you come to speak my language so well?”

“Jerusalem was always full of pilgrims, many from your country. I have always found it easy to learn new tongues. A useful gift –” he smiled again – “if one is ambitious.”

“I see …” She found that she was still clutching the skirts of the primrose gown. She settled the silk to its decorous length, smoothed it down, and with the action felt her composure returning.