Guyon arched one brow at Adam. ‘I am not an inexperienced hound to run yelping after a false scent. If the truth were known, I’d prefer not to run with either pack. You knew about this marriage, didn’t you?’

Adam breathed out and pushed his hair back from his forehead. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, exasperated with himself. ‘I should have curbed my tongue but Heulwen and I have just had a disagreement, and my temper’s still hot. Yes, I did know, and for the sake of my honour, which God knows is frequently a millstone around my neck, I could not tell you.’

Guyon grimaced. He knew all about King Henry and the knots he tied in men’s honour. ‘And is Geoffrey of Anjou likely to be a millstone too?’

‘He has the ability to control his wife and all of us if given the chance. For good or bad, I don’t know. By God’s will, he’ll breed sons upon Matilda who will be of an age to succeed their grandfather when his time comes.’

‘It has caused much ill-feeling,’ Guyon said. ‘Henry might have solved his problems across the Narrow Sea, particularly now that William le Clito’s done the honourable thing and got himself killed in Flanders, but I’m not so sure about England. Many of us are far too insular for our own good.’ He watched Renard, Henry and a group of laughing young men head towards the tilt yard. Henry’s voice sounded like a creaking gate; it was on the verge of breaking. Suddenly he felt old.

Adam had turned to watch them. Guyon laid one hand on his shoulder. ‘If you have quarrelled with my daughter, I should go and set matters to rights now. If you disappear with my sons you’ll only make it worse for yourself later,’ he said with wry experience.

‘Easier said than done.’

Guyon grinned and pushed him. ‘Go on…’ And then, while Adam still hesitated, reluctant, ‘The babe’s shaping well. He has eyes like Heulwen’s mother, but he looks like you. Wolves breed true, as my wife’s maid was always saying darkly of you when she rocked your cradle.’

Adam gave him a sharp look and then laughed between his teeth. ‘I don’t need force-feeding, but I’m certainly having it rammed down my throat today.’

Guyon gazed at him, puzzled. ‘What?’

‘Nothing.’ Adam shook his head and, still smiling, took a step towards the women.

De Gernons lost his grip on the black hound’s leash and the mastiff tore from his hands and hurtled across the plesaunce to leap among the women and attack Brith. The two animals rolled together, snarling and snapping. Elene screamed and ran to her father, hiding her face against his tunic. Shouting, William tried to grab Brith’s collar and recoiled with a shriek, a dripping red slash bisecting his knuckles. De Gernons bellows at the mastiff to heel went unheeded.

Heulwen, who had been talking to Judith at one of the trestles, cried out and picking up her skirts started towards her son, who was lying in direct line of the biting, frantic hounds, about to be rolled upon or worse, for de Gernons’s mastiff was in a state of frenzy, black gums bared on a ferocious snaggle of teeth.

The women screamed. Miles wailed. William’s young hound, lighter of build and gentler of nature, was striving to disengage, blood-drenched and yelping. Adam, running, snatched Miles out of harm’s way as the mastiff, victorious but still full of fighting rage, snarled and launched himself at the nearest thing that moved.

Unable to defend himself because he held the baby, Adam went down beneath the massive forepaws. He smelt the dog’s rank breath, saw the white-rimmed eyes and froth-spattered jaws, and tried to roll and avoid the savage array of teeth. Something splashed over him. He tasted wine and realised that someone had emptied a flagon over the dog to try and drive it off him. Heulwen screamed and screamed again. Above him there was a solid, vibrating thud and a dreadful howl suddenly cut off. The dog’s weight slumped on him and then was dragged off. He breathed again, and rolling over, slowly sat up. Miles screeched in his arms, a trifle rumpled and red with indignation, but otherwise unscathed.

To one side the dog lay in a puddle of blood, a jousting lance pinning it to the turf of the plesaunce through its ribs. Heulwen threw down the empty wine pitcher and dropped to her knees beside Adam, sobbing with reaction and relief. Behind her, face bleached, eyes as dark as flint, Renard was facing a sputtering, furious Ranulf de Gernons.

‘You…you have killed my dog!’ he howled with the disbelieving fury of a spoiled child who has had a favourite toy confiscated.

‘Have I?’ Renard said through clenched teeth. ‘What a shame, and before he’d finished performing for us too.’

De Gernons’s jaw worked. ‘Do you know how much he was worth?’

‘Oh yes,’ Renard answered. ‘The length of a jousting lance at least.’ Turning his back on the enraged heir to Chester’s wide domains, he gestured to two gawping, frightened servants. ‘Get rid of this. Throw it on the midden.’

Too breathless to speak, Adam stood up, his tunic splattered with wine and blood and glared at de Gernons in lieu of actions. Guyon stepped quickly between his son and son-by-marriage and the ‘guest’ before a situation too volatile to be contained developed. The laws of hospitality might be inconvenient, but they were also sacred. ‘Only a fool brings a beast like that among company,’ he said, each word soft but distinct with scorn. ‘It is too much to expect your apology, I know, but that you should try to turn the blame around astounds me beyond contempt!’

De Gernons looked around the circle of accusing, hostile eyes, at hands that hovered above dagger grips, leashed by custom but straining to break free. He hawked and spat, and without another word pushed past Guyon, roughly nudging his shoulder, did the same to Renard, and stalked out. They heard him yelling for his horse to be brought.

‘Like dog, like owner,’ Renard muttered.

Guyon grimaced. ‘We have just made a powerful enemy, and one who will harbour a grudge beyond all reason.’

‘Who wants him for a friend?’ Judith said acidly as she bathed the slash on her youngest son’s hand with wine. William tugged away from her, anxious to see to his wounded dog.

‘That depends on how matters develop at court,’ Guyon said bleakly. ‘Adam, are you all right?’

‘Bruised,’ Adam said with a brief nod and watched the servants dragging the mastiff’s body away. ‘Thank Christ it’s nothing more serious. I thought I wasn’t going to reach Miles in time.’ He kissed his son’s cheek and hugged him close for an instant before handing him, fretting, to Heulwen. A mutual look passed over the baby’s head, but for now there was no opportunity to explore it further.

One of the women handed Adam a cup of sweetened wine.

Guyon shook his head. ‘He didn’t find out what he wanted to know.’

‘I think,’ Adam contradicted over the rim of his cup, ‘that he found out more than he bargained for — and so did we.’


The night was as still as a prayer. Heulwen’s gilded shoes whispered softly over the grass of the deserted plesaunce. In the pond a fish plopped ponderously. Moths blundered among the flowers. A bat was outlined briefly against the green-streaked sky. She looked down at her hand linked in Adam’s as they stopped beside the pond. The water near their feet boiled as a frog dived in panic.

Adam pulled her against his side and squeezed her waist, lightly palming the curve of her hip. ‘You were right this afternoon,’ he said, staring out over the dark, glassy water. ‘Sometimes I have found it very difficult indeed.’

‘Adam…’ She half turned, meaning to say that she did not need an explanation, but he took the hand she meant to lay against his mouth and held it prisoner.

‘I suppose I should thank de Gernons,’ he said. ‘Until I thought that hell-hound of his was going to kill Miles, I didn’t realise what he meant to me.’

‘He is yours, Adam.’ She laid her hand on his sleeve. ‘I wasn’t just saying it this afternoon.’

His smile was ghostly, like the last of the light. ‘Well, that’s a welcome blessing along the way, but it won’t alter the depth of my feeling for him — enrich it, perhaps.’ He dipped his head and kissed her. She responded, arms tightly around his neck.

‘Lie with me?’ he said between kisses.

Surprised, she looked up at him. His eyes were as dark as the glitter of the pond beside them. ‘Here? Now?’

He was unpinning her cloak and his and spreading them on the summer-scented grass. ‘Can you think of a better place? The keep’s crowded.’

Her breathing caught. A delightful warmth contracted her loins and she returned to his arms.


The horizon was dark and the moon had risen, a fat white crescent silvering sky and land. Adam stretched lazily, and sitting up, reached for his shirt.

Heulwen sighed and extended a languorous forefinger to run it down the knobbled ridge of his spine, smiling to feel him quiver. ‘I suppose,’ she said regretfully, ‘that Miles will be roaring to be fed, and Elswith will come seeking me before he rouses the whole keep.’

Adam laughed at the thought of the maid’s face should she seek them here and find them like this.

Heulwen sat up beside him, her unbraided hair tumbling down, and pressed her lips to his shoulder. ‘Adam, can we go home tomorrow?’ She helped him tug his shirt down.

‘I don’t see why not.’ He turned his head to kiss her, and continued dressing. ‘Any particular reason?’

‘Not really.’ She began shrugging into her own clothes. ‘I’d like to see our own plesaunce finished before the summer’s end.’ There was a sudden hint of mischievous laughter in her voice.

‘It would be more convenient than visiting Ravenstow every time,’ he agreed.