He made a brief, but by no means enthusiastic, gesture of assent.

'I want Rosamund to grow up speaking both tongues, but all she can manage in English is to ask for wine and swear!

'That's not true! There was laughter amidst Oliver's indignation.

'Well, no, Catrin conceded, 'but I miss England. I want to go home.

Oliver shook his head. 'We will be on the road much of the time, love, he said. 'And we may be in danger. I do not like to think of you and Rosamund living as camp followers. Here you have your own dwelling and place in the world.

'Yes, she nodded slowly. 'Yes, we do, but that's all it is, a dwelling. Home is where the heart lies. I don't want to be parted from you for month upon month. She frowned at him. 'You want me to stay here because you fear for my safety, but I want to come because I fear for yours.

'But there's small reason for you to fear, he said, and rotated his left arm and flexed his hand. 'I am not likely to be thrown into the forefront of battle, am I?

'Perhaps not, but you know as well as I do how easy it is to become involved by accident. You might be waiting with the baggage wagons, the enemy breaks through, and suddenly you find yourself in the thick of the fray.

'All the more reason for my wife to stay in safety. If the baggage wagons are attacked then any woman — or child — among them is fair game.

Absently she noticed that he had referred to her as his wife, a habit of such long-standing now that everyone in Rouen assumed that they were full-wedded in law and that Rosamund was his daughter. But she wasn't his wife and she was free to do as she chose. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him as much but she held back, for it would have inflicted a wound on flesh that was already too thin and scarred. 'You might frighten me with such tales, she said, angrily, 'but you will not stop me. When you sail for England, Rosamund and I sail with you.

Oliver breathed out heavily. 'As stubborn as a mule does not even begin to describe you, he said with exasperation.

'No, it doesn't. She saw that she had won. There was resignation in his eyes, and perhaps a spark of pride. But if she had been wary of telling him about the suspected pregnancy before, she knew now that it was impossible. Wife or not, he would have her locked up in the highest room of Rouen's tower for the full nine months. While she would not lie to him, she was not above committing a sin of omission.

'Besides, she said, as much to herself as to him, 'if the danger becomes too great, I can take Rosamund to Bristol. We'll be safe there, and I know that Edon and Geoffrey will welcome us.

'I am sure they will, he said, but it was an unthinking response and his eyes were distant again. She wondered if her mention of Bristol had brought back memories of living there. It had all changed now. Earl Robert had died of clogged lungs a few months after Prince Henry's invasion escapade and his eldest son, Philip, was now earl in his place. Oliver's position in Henry's household had become embedded, his loyalty was to the Prince alone rather than the house of Gloucester. It would be a poignant revisiting.

But Oliver's thoughts were not on Bristol. 'I will not push a boulder uphill and try to stop you, he said, 'but what if. . He chewed his lower lip and looked at her, his grey eyes quenched and dark. 'What if you encounter Louis again?

The crux of the matter blazed out like dry grass catching fire from a tinder spark and caught her utterly by surprise. It was not his fear of losing her in a raid on the baggage wains that made him protest at her desire to go with him; it was his fear of losing her to Louis.

'He is less than nothing to me, she said with all the vehemence that she could muster. It was ground they had often trodden before, frequently without words. She turned his face on the palm of her hand and spoke close to his mouth.

'You are the world. Yes, I thought I loved him once, but it was only lust in disguise and I have long outgrown the empty trappings that are all he ever offered.

He took her hand from his face, closing his fingers around hers, and kissed her. She felt his possession and anxiety and for a moment kissed him back with fervour. Then she broke away. 'You have to trust me, Oliver. If you don't, then our life together has been as nothing.

He swallowed. 'I do trust you. It is him I do not. Supposing. . supposing he wants Rosamund. She is his daughter by right.

'He gave up all right to her long ago, Catrin said, and then shook her head to remove the dread of the thought. 'Our paths are unlikely to cross and, if they do, I am no lamb to the slaughter this time. She gazed through the doorway and watched Rosamund returning from her errand, her face bright with sunlight and a spring in her step. 'I will kill him before I yield so much as an inch of ground, let alone my… our daughter, she said softly, but with utter conviction.


In Caesarea, Roxanne lay on her bed and wept bitter tears at the perfidy of men.


Outside the walls of Jerusalem, by the pool of Siloam, Louis let his horse and pack pony drink their fill and smiled at the sloe-eyed woman with gold bracelets clinking on her wrists. She gazed back at him, letting him know that she thought him insolent but that it was not an insurmountable barrier, and then she turned away, snapping her fingers at her servants.

He watched them bear her towards the city in a litter decorated with red and gold silk tassels. The exotic scent of sandalwood and patchouli filled his nostrils and stirred his hunting instincts. The curtains of the litter parted and the woman glanced out to see if he was following.

In his own good time, Louis took his horses and did so.

Chapter 29

It was May when Henry Plantagenet set sail for his Uncle David's court in Scotland where he was to receive his knighthood and plan the claiming of a kingdom.

Although the crossing was moderately gentle, Catrin was wretchedly sick throughout. She hung over the wash strake, the cold, green water striking and bursting in silver bubbles mere inches from her face. She had tried sucking ginger root which was usually very effective at stemming nausea, but to no avail. Six years ago she had been seasick on the journey across the Narrow Sea, although not with this appalling ferocity. But then on that occasion, she had not been pregnant.

She was sure now. The time of her second flux had come and gone four days' since without so much as a spot of blood. Her breasts were full and tender, she felt bloated, and the sickness had begun with a vengeance. Fortunately, Oliver thought it was due to the sea-crossing, which in part it was, or else he would never have allowed her on board ship. Catrin endured as best she could, telling herself that it would pass as soon as she quickened.

Rosamund was completely unaffected by the rolling of the ship, and as brightly unsympathetic as only a six-year-old could be. 'It doesn't make me sick, Mama, she announced, peering over the side, then leaned over the gunwale trying to reach the water and trail a hand. Catrin struggled upright and, with aching stomach, dragged her daughter from harm's way. 'No, but you might drown, she said crossly. Rosamund pouted. 'I only want to see if the water's green in my hand.

'No, it isn't, it's just water-coloured, Catrin said shortly. Nausea surged. She clutched the side and closed her eyes. 'Then why does it look green?

'Because of the way the light shines through it, because of the way that darkness is never really black but many different colours, Oliver said, coming to Catrin's rescue. Sweeping Rosamund up, he tucked her under his right arm so that she squealed. 'I could always throw you overboard to find out, he teased.

Rosamund pummelled him but to no avail, he had her fast. 'Feeling no better? he said to Catrin.

She shook her head. It was beyond her to speak. If she opened her mouth she would be sick.

'I came to say that we'll be making landfall in a few hours. The lookout has sighted the Scottish coast in the distance.

'Where, where, let me see! Rosamund demanded.

Catrin leaned over the side again and felt the salt spray tingle on her face. Oliver took Rosamund to the prow of the vessel and pointed out the distant smudge of coastline. Other vessels ploughed alongside theirs, each of them bearing a cargo of men and supplies. Prince Henry's ship fluttered a red and gold banner bearing a device of three lions, a blazon adopted from his father. On board with Henry was Roger, Earl of Hereford, who was also to be knighted at the ceremony on Pentecost Sunday. The bright colours of tunics and cloaks glowed against the brown and white of the ship.

Henry had left Belle and baby William in Normandy. For all her earlier determination to follow Oliver, Catrin found herself wishing that at this precise moment she was back in Normandy too, lying on a bed that did not move.


Even when Henry's entourage disembarked from their ships, Catrin's nightmare was not over. The journey by sea had to be continued by land to Carlisle. Riding in a baggage wain meant that she could lie down with a lavender-scented cloth across her forehead, but the lurching of the cart over successive potholes in the road made it almost as bad as being at sea. She sucked more ginger root and fought her rebellious stomach. Rosamund sat with the driver and chattered nineteen to the dozen about all the things they saw along their way. The border country was wild and green whereas Normandy's greenness was lush and padded. The Scots lowlands hinted at the bones of rock beneath the soil. Among the fields of corn there were as many fields of oats, and the cows were smaller and tougher than the great slab-sided cattle of Normandy.