"Excellent bargains, m'lady. Come and see." The young man glanced hurriedly over his shoulder and then whipped a small dagger out from beneath his dirt-stained tunic.

Alice gasped and took a step back. Thieves and pickpockets were a constant threat at fairs. She clutched her skirts and made to run.

"Nay, nay, do not fear, fine lady." The youth's dark eyes filled with alarm. "I mean you no harm. I am called Fulk. I offer this beautiful dagger for sale. See? 'Tis fashioned of the best Spanish steel."

Alice relaxed. "Aye, 'tis a pretty little dagger but I have no use for such."

"Mayhap you could give it to yer lord as a gift?" Fulk suggested with a determined gleam in his eye. "A man can always use a good dagger."

"Sir Hugh has arms enough as it is," Alice retorted. She was still fuming over the fact that Hugh had elected to fritter away the afternoon on the jousting field.

"No man has enough good steel. Come closer, m'lady, and examine the workmanship."

Alice studied the dagger with little interest. "Where did you get this?"

"My father sells daggers and knives in a stall on the other side of the fairgrounds," Fulk said smoothly. "I assist him by mingling with the crowd to search out customers."

"Try another tale, lad."

"Very well." Fulk groaned. "If ye must know the truth, I found it lying by the side of the road. A shame, is it not? I believe it to be the property of some passing traveler. It must have been dropped by accident."

"More likely it was filched from a knife-seller's stall."

"Nay, nay, m'lady. I give ye me oath that I came by this blade in an honest fashion." Fulk turned the dagger to display the inlaid handle. "See how beautiful it is. I'll wager these be rare and valuable gems."

Alice smiled wryly. " 'Tis no use practicing your wiles on me, lad. I have only a few coins left in my purse and I intend to use them to purchase something far more useful than that dagger."

Fulk gave her an angelic smile. "What do ye wish to purchase, fine lady? Just let me know what ye want and I shall fetch it for ye. Then ye can pay me for it. 'Twill save ye a lot of dashing about amongst these dirty stalls."

Alice eyed him thoughtfully. "Very helpful of you."

He swept her an almost courtly bow. " 'Tis me great privilege to serve ye, m'lady."

It occurred to Alice that he just might be able to assist her. "What I am in need of is some information."

"Information?" Fulk slipped the knife back inside his tunic sleeve with a businesslike flick of his wrist. "That won't be any problem. I frequently sell information. Ye'd be surprised how many people wish to purchase that particular commodity. Now, then, just what sort of information do ye seek?"

Alice plunged into the tale she had concocted for the pie-sellers and peddlers. "I am searching for a handsome troubadour who has long brown hair, a small beard, and pale blue eyes. He favors a yellow and orange tunic. I heard him sing earlier and I wish to listen to some more of his songs but I cannot find him in this crowd. Have you seen him?"

Fulk tilted his head to one side and gave her a shrewd look. "Are ye in love with this troubadour?"

Alice started to utter an indignant protest and then caught herself. She gave what she hoped was a fluttering sigh instead. "He is most comely."

Fulk snorted in disgust. "Ye be not the only lady who thinks so. By the teeth o' Saint Anselm, I don't know what it is about troubadours. They all seem to have pretty ladies swooning at their feet."

Alice stilled. "Then you have seen him?"

"Aye. I've seen yer fancy poet." Fulk lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. "His tunic is very pretty, just as ye said. Always favored yellow and orange meself."

"Where did you see him?" Alice asked eagerly.

"Last night he entertained a group of knights around one of the campfires. I, uh, happened to be nearby at the time and overheard him."

"Is that when you stumbled upon the lost dagger?" Alice asked politely.

"As it happens, it was." Fulk was not the least chagrined by her deduction. "Knights are a careless lot, especially when they've had too many cups of wine. Always losing daggers and purses and such. Now, then, how much will ye pay me for finding yer handsome troubadour for ye?"

Alice fingered her nearly empty purse. "I have only a couple of coins left. I suppose the information is worth one of them. Mayhap two if you're quick with it."

"Done." Fulk grinned again. "Come with me, m'lady. I know where to find the troubadour."

"How is it you can be so certain of that?"

"I told ye that ye weren't the only female in love with him. Last night I heard him tell a certain blond-haired lady that he would meet her today while her lord takes the field in the jousts."

"By the Saints," Alice muttered. "You are, indeed, a fount of information, Fulk."

"I told ye, information sells as well as anything else and there's not nearly so much risk involved." Fulk turned and set off through the maze of stalls with a jaunty swagger.

Alice tossed aside her uneaten pie and hurried after him.

Fifteen minutes later she found herself on the outskirts of the fairgrounds. She glanced back uneasily as Fulk led the way around the old stone wall that surrounded Ipstoke Keep. They had left the crowd behind. She was alone with Fulk.

She followed him up a gentle slope of rising ground. When she reached the crest she glanced back once more. She discovered that she could see across the tops of the tents and banners all the way to the distant jousting field.

A throng of spectators had gathered to view the melee. Even as Alice watched a great shout went up. The sound of it was carried toward her on the breeze. Two opposing groups of knights charged toward one another from opposite ends of the field.

Alice winced as they slammed together. Several horses and men went down in a fearsome tangle. Armor glinted in the sun and horses flailed. Alice found herself searching for a familiar black banner but it was impossible to identify Hugh or any of his men from this distance.

"This way, m'lady," Fulk whispered. He rounded one of the ramshackle outbuildings. "Hurry."

Alice told herself that Hugh was much too clever and too skilled to get hurt. Knights of his caliber thrived on mock combat. She shuddered. Her father had been no different. Sir Bernard had spent a great deal of his life in northern France seeking the glory and wealth to be had from the endless round of tournaments. Bernard had sought something else as well on those journeys, Alice thought wistfully. Escape from his responsibilities as a husband and father.

She had only scattered memories of her father. Those memories were sprinkled across the years like so many bright beads from a broken strand.

Bernard had been a handsome man with a hearty laugh, a curly red beard, and vivid green eyes. He had been loud and boisterous and full of enthusiasm for the hunt, the joust, and, according to Helen, Alice's mother, London brothels.

Bernard was gone a great deal of the time but his visits to his manor were wonderful events in Alice's childhood. He swooped down upon the household with presents and stories. He scooped Alice up in his arms and carried her through the great hall. While Bernard was home it seemed to Alice that everything, including her mother, glowed and shimmered with happiness.

But all too soon Bernard would set out again for a joust in some distant place or an extended trip to London. Many of Alice's memories from her early years included scenes of her mother crying after one of Bernard's frequent departures.

The family had seen more of Bernard for a time after his son and heir was born. Helen had been radiant during that period. But after Benedict was permanently injured in the fall from his horse Bernard had gone back to his old habits. The trips to London and northern France became frequent and prolonged once more.

As the years passed, Helen responded to her husband's lengthy absences by spending an ever-increasing amount of time at work on her handbook or mixing her herbs and potions. She grew distant from her children, seemingly obsessed by her studies.

In the later years Helen no longer greeted Bernard's brief visits with glowing happiness in her eyes. On the positive side, Alice thought, her mother no longer cried for hours after Bernard's leave-takings.

As her mother secluded herself for longer and longer periods in her study, Alice gradually took over the myriad responsibilities of managing the household and manor. She also assumed the task of rearing Benedict. She feared she had not been a great success in her efforts to be both mother and father to him. She had been unable to make up for the pain that Bernard's careless rejection had caused. The silent resentment in Benedict's eyes whenever his father was mentioned still made Alice want to weep.

But the knowledge of just how badly she had failed had not struck home until she managed to lose Benedict's inheritance.

"M'lady?"

Alice pushed aside the melancholy memories. "Where are we going, Fulk?"

"Hush." He waved frantically to silence her. "Do ye want them to hear ye?"

"I want to know where you're taking me." She walked around a sagging wooden storage shed and saw him crouched behind a stretch of thick foliage.

"Last night I heard the troubadour tell the blond-haired lady that he would meet her down there in the bushes by the stream."

"You're certain?"

"If he's not there, ye don't need to pay me," Fulk said magnanimously.