Jesu, it was so long ago. A lifetime. A lifetime of wandering and squandering. What would it have been like if he could only have set his will to the grindstone at Wickham? Would it have rewarded him with satisfaction and even greater honours, or would he have grown to hate it? The latter, he thought. Wealth and status he enjoyed, but not the responsibilities which came with them. He had spent most of his life cultivating the former and shedding the latter.

He made his way to the wharves to watch the vessels loading and unloading their cargoes — wines from Gascony and Burgundy, bundles of Irish flax and five Irish mares — and trading barges from upriver with cargoes of iron from the forges in the forest. He inhaled the sharp, salt air and savoured the textures of life, an overwhelming anger growing within him.

He was a part of the great flow and he had no intention of being stranded above the tideline and left to rot by the disease consuming him.

'Do you think ill of me? Geoffrey FitzMar looked sidelong at Catrin.

'Why should I? They were sitting on a bench facing the herb garden that lay at the side of the dwelling. Philip of Gloucester had given Geoffrey the house to live in and an income of rents from three others in recognition of his services.

It was pleasant and sunny, sheltered from the wind. Eight children ranging in age from twelve to three years old, her own among them, romped in the orchard at the foot of the garth. With them was a young woman, neatly dressed, plain of feature, but with a lovely smile brightening her face as she threw a ball for one of the girls to catch. Her laugh rang out, clear and happy.

'It is not so long since Edon died. Perhaps you think that I do not respect her memory by marrying again so soon.

Catrin watched her small sons twinkle in and out of the trees. 'It is three years, she murmured. 'What you do is your own business. And no, I think that you honour her memory by doing as you have.

'Truly? He looked at her anxiously.

'Truly. She gave his hand a squeeze and smiled. Most men would not care what others thought. Most men had hides so tough that it took a spear to pierce them, but not Geoffrey. It was probably the reason why he and Oliver were friends. There were times when each irritated the other beyond bearing, but there were bonds of similarity too. 'Look at all the years that Oliver wasted in recrimination and mourning. Better to grieve and then to move on.

He nodded. 'I try, but I still do grieve for Edon, you know, even though I have Miriel — and it hurts.

'I miss her too, Catrin murmured. 'She was always part of my return to Bristol, and now she's not here.

'It was my fault that she died, Geoffrey said bleakly.

'It was the will of God.

His smile was grim. 'I tried telling myself that, but it led me down the path to heresy. I asked a priest why it was God's will, and he said that it was ours not to reason why. So are we not to think for ourselves but to follow in blind faith? He shook his head. 'It's easier to blame myself for lust than God for failing.

'Geoffrey… She touched his arm, unsure what to say. 'I can live with it, he said. 'When it becomes too dark for me to bear alone, Miriel is there, and I have my children.

Catrin bit her lip. 'And supposing Miriel quickens with child. How long have you been wed?

'A six-month, he replied. 'She looks young, does she not, but she's eight-and-twenty. Since the age of fifteen she has been widowed once and cast aside once.

'Cast aside? Catrin regarded Geoffrey's new wife with a spark of sympathy having herself been abandoned twice by the same man. 'Whatever for?

'Being barren, Geoffrey said expressionlessly. 'Her first, widowed, marriage lasted five years without children and her second match bore no fruit either. Barren soil rather than barren seed. Whatever I sow cannot grow and destroy the place where it was planted.

Catrin felt both sorry for him and relieved. 'I wish you both well, she murmured. 'With all my heart I do.


The sunset was a striking silver-streaked pink, overlaid by streamers of charcoal and rust. Oliver paused in his examination of a pack horse to watch it and thought about stopping to eat. Henry was preparing to ride on to Gloucester to hold his Easter court. There was so much to do and so little time to accomplish it all.

'Fine evening, greeted Humfrey de Glanville, pausing on his way across the bailey. He was one of Henry's recruiting masters, and Oliver knew and liked him well. They had frequently worked together, their respective positions in Henry's household making them allies and fellow sufferers.

Oliver nodded agreement and for a moment the two men watched the sunset flame and darken over the estuary. Oliver told his companion that he was inspecting the pack ponies before he sent them off to an outlying manor to collect supplies.

'It's like feeding a bottomless pit, he said with a grimace. The weather creases at Humfrey's eye corners deepened. 'Aye, I know what you mean.

'Hire any new men worth their salt today? Oliver asked.

Having recruited in the past, he knew how difficult the task was. The dross came anyway, lured by the promise of plunder and pay. Finding steady soldiers of good calibre, who would not break at the first testing, was somewhat more difficult.

Humfrey shrugged and rubbed his grey-salted beard. 'Most were of the usual sort. Welsh youngsters in search of adventure and scarce old enough to grow a beard between them. Men with mouths to feed and no other way of doing it. Others who think that Prince Henry's footsteps are printed in gold.

Oliver grunted in sympathy.

'There were a couple who intrigued me though. Humfrey scratched his nose. 'Adventurers I'd say, after plunder and prestige, but they'd got a sharper edge than the others. A knight and his servant.

'Oh?

'Claimed to be returned crusaders and it's likely true. The knight had a red cross sewn on his cloak and they were both as brown as nuts.

Oliver raised his brows with interest. 'Did they say for whom they fought before their crusade?

Humfrey grinned and shook his head. 'No, they avoided that one with more agility than a pair of maypole dancers. I suspect that they've always sold their swords where it has been to their best advantage. No shame in that I know, but I am not entirely sure that they will honour their part of the bargain with loyalty. It could be that if it comes to a fight, they will break as easily as a couple of raw Welsh lads.

'But you hired them anyway?

'Yes, I hired them, but if you asked me why, I could not tell you. A puzzled, slightly irritated, look crossed Humfrey's face. 'This is the first time in my life that I've been persuaded to ignore my doubts by a silver tongue., Louis le Pelerin will bear watching.

Oliver took his eyes off the sunset. 'Louis le Pelerin? he repeated, feeling the familiar wrench in his gut as he heard the first name.

'That was what he said. Humfrey looked at him curiously. 'Why, do you know him?

Oliver shook his head. 'I hope not. Describe him to me — and his companion too.

'Not above average height, lean and wiry, Humfrey said in the manner of someone accustomed to summing up the points of men and horses both. 'Black hair, black eyes, scar on the cheekbone. Dresses like an earl — far better garments than either you or I possess. No common soldier could afford to wear a tunic of dark blue wool beneath his armour.

Oliver began to feel sick. He clenched his fists. 'And the other one? Let me guess. Is he a red-haired Welshman called Ewan?

Humfrey's eyes widened. 'You know them?

Oliver swallowed jerkily. 'Yes, I know them. Christ Jesu, Humfrey, do not take them into the Prince's employ. Louis le Pelerin as he calls himself is worth only six feet of fresh soil to bury his perfidious corpse.

Humfrey continued to stare.

Oliver cleared his throat and spat. 'His true name is Lewis of Chepstow, and if he comes within range of my blade, I will kill him. His voice quivered with rage, but beneath that rage was a terrible fear made all the more potent for the length of time it had been brewing. At some dark, unconscious level of his mind, he had always known that Louis would return and try to claim what was his by law even though he had no right.

'What has he done?

Oliver shut his eyes and forced control upon himself. When he opened them on Humfrey, they were expressionless storm-grey. 'It is a personal matter, he said woodenly. 'Of honour and common decency. Suffice to say that he is faithless. You would do better to put your trust in quicksand.

Humfrey stirred his toe in the dust and sucked his teeth. 'Very well, I will dismiss him on the morrow, and the Welshman too, but I would still like to know your reason. It is not enough to say that he is faithless when we are so short of men.

Oliver drew a deep breath. 'He was one of Stephen's mercenaries at the time of the battle of Winchester.

'So much he told me, Humfrey nodded. 'He said that he had grown sick of the war and joined the crusade instead because it had more point.

'He joined the crusade, Oliver bit out, 'because Stephen had entrusted him with a keep that he did not have the backbone to hold. He abandoned it under siege — rode out and left his wife and baby daughter to face the consequences. When he left he told them he was going for aid, but he had no intention of returning.

Humfrey eyed him keenly. 'You know a great deal of the matter.

'That is because his wife and daughter are now with me.

Humfrey's jaw dropped. 'Catrin and Rosamund. I thought that they belonged to y—