'It is no game, Guy,' Chester warned.

'Did I say that it was?'

The Earl's eyebrows lifted towards his thinning hair. 'Don't be obtuse with me!' he warned. 'I'm not a woman to be deceived by the twists of your tongue.'

Guyon propped his leg on a footstool. 'I admit it was foolhardy to risk de Belleme's rage, but at the time I was raging myself. Since then I've been a model of propriety.'

'Excluding this recent escapade?' The Earl pointed the flagon at Guyon's leg. 'Antagonising the new lord of Thornford by fighting in his village and stealing his servants?'

Guyon snorted. 'Yes, look at me. Do you think I fight odds of nine to two because I enjoy flirting with death and rousing a wasps' nest of trouble?

Bad fortune, nothing more. If Arian had not cast a shoe, I'd have been nowhere near his territory - and I didn't steal his servants. They were leaving him anyway.'

Chester put the flagon down on the cupboard.

Guyon's lids were heavy, but it was not all the aftermath of fever. Part of it was concealment.

'Walter de Lacey wants Ravenstow, Guy ... and he wants Judith.'

Guyon snorted. 'Tell me something I do not know. He's had a dagger at my back ever since my wedding.'

'I won't share my boundaries with such a one as him if I can help it. No control over himself, for a start. Half a brain and too much cunning, and he's in de Belleme's pay.' He gave a breathy laugh.

'The Welsh nibbling me one side and him the other. It behoves me to keep you alive and in a state of grace!'

'Is that why you're here?' Guyon raised his lids to reveal a glint of humour. 'To protect me from the worst of my own nature?'

Chester shook his head. 'To make sure you know how close to the fire your fingers are!'

'You sound like my father!' Guyon laughed.

'Is he not wise?'

'Oh, very.'

Chester's restless fingers toyed with his heavy circular cloak brooch. He had heard several rumours in Shrewsbury concerning Miles and Maurice de Montgomery's widow. Well , and why not? She was well preserved and her dower lands, although not vast, were pleasant and fertile.

A man could find it in him to plough both with ease. Perhaps it would be entertaining to pay Miles a visit in the near future and see about the purchase of another horse ...

'I know how close to the fire I am,' Guyon said into the Earl's ruminative silence. 'But "uncle"

Robert will have his eyes on a broader arena than mine now that Jerusalem has fall en into Christian hands. I hazard that for the moment he'll leave my demise to fate and expendable tools such as Walter de Lacey.'

Chester pursed his lips. The King's older brother, Robert Curthose, had pawned the Duchy of Normandy to Rufus in exchange for the necessary silver to go on crusade and had departed forthwith. The Christian force had been successful and, barring mishap to Robert's ox-like frame, a few more months would likely see his return and an ensuing broil of trouble. Rufus was not going to smile sweetly and hand over Normandy like meat on a trencher.

'De Belleme will thrust his sword where it will cause the most mischief,' Guyon continued. 'I'll wager you five marks to a single penny that the moment Robert sets foot on Norman soil, the Earl of Shrewsbury will hare to his side and offer him all assistance. You know what he thinks of Rufus.'

'You think that too,' Chester pointed out drily.

'But I have held my oath to him, have I not?

Therein lies the difference. De Belleme doesn't give a pot of piss for his own fealty. I can see it coming as clearly as a thunderstorm over Ledworth ridge. Brother Robert returns from the Holy Wars mantled in glory and demands the return of his earldom. Rufus refuses. De Belleme joins the side that is most advantageous to himself and merry havoc holds sway. All we need then is for the Welsh to come hotfoot over the border aflame with raiding fever and it'll be worse than a drunken brawl at Smithfield fair! It won't matter about me because everyone's fingers will be in the fire then.'

The white bitch at Guyon's feet raised her head and nuzzled his hand. Chester absently admired her narrow-loined conformation and considered Guyon's words. Most of what he had said had already occurred to Chester and doubtless half the other barons in the country. Stormy weather lay ahead and those with sense were making preparations to endure it, or else seeking a new shelter, as in the case of the powerful de Clare family who were quietly cultivating the third brother.

'And Prince Henry?' he said. 'What about Prince Henry?'

'What about him?' Guyon rubbed his thigh. 'He'll watch us all burn for a while, toss the occasional twig on the fire and, when he's had enough, he'll either douse it or walk away, whichever suits his purpose best. Probably he'll side with Rufus. He wants him to obtain Edith of Scotland for his bride and he wants Rufus to name him the heir.'

'You know a great deal for a man who's been on his sickbed since before harvest time,' Chester remarked drily.

Guyon shrugged. 'My brother-in-law writes letters to his wife, my sister, and she shows them to me to relieve the boredom.'

'Your brother-in ... Ah yes,' said the Earl. 'He assists the chamberlain, doesn't he?'

'Along those lines. We all have our ways and means.

Speaking of which, is there a purpose behind your visit, or is it truly just to comfort my convalescence?'

'That depends upon how sick you still are,'

Chester said and cocked a glance at the propped leg.

Guyon shook his head and laughed. 'Sick only of being wrapped in swaddling. If I so much as sneeze, Judith appears at my side with some noxious potion or other.'

'She's a young wife, eager to show off her skills,' Chester said, momentarily diverted.

'Considering the life she led before her marriage, you ought to be grateful she's not spiked your wine with monkshood.'

Guyon's laughter deepened and seamed the corner of his eyes. 'You don't know the half of it, Hugh. Monkshood is far too swift a revenge!'

Chester looked a question.

Guyon sobered. 'I owe her my life,' he admitted.

'And more than twice over.'

'She's a fine-looking girl with a sound head on her shoulders. You are luckier than most.'

Guyon clasped his hands behind his head. Fine-looking? Well , yes, perhaps she was growing that way as her body filled into womanhood and he would not deny her intelligence; but as to his being luckier than most?

He thought back to her reaction in the bedchamber, the fear in her eyes, the way she had run as if from rape.

For close on a year now he had held himself in check. The first months it had been easy for she was still so obviously a child, but time had blurred the division between girl and woman. He was aware of his hunger and the fact that unless he resorted to force, it could not be appeased.

Whatever the change in her body, it was obvious that she was not mentally prepared to accept his flesh. Monkshood was indeed too swift for revenge.

'What did you want to talk about?' he asked abruptly and brought his hands down.

Chester darted his brows at the sharpness of Guyon's tone which was quite at odds with the amusement of a moment since. 'Where your land borders mine, up on Llyn Moell ridge, there is a blind spot between the hill s, and the Welsh ride down the valley to raid. A keep is needed and the best site is within your bounds. When you see it, I think you will agree.'

'Within my expense as well ?' Guyon asked. 'I know the place you mean. Lord Gruffydd's men came through the gap this spring and carried off some of our herds.'

'I am sure we can come to an amicable agreement,' Chester said with a benign smile.

'It might be possible,' Guyon fenced, knowing that look of old. Hugh d'Avrenches was no man's fool when it came to arguing prices and what he did not know the canny officials he kept around him did.

Chester's smile became a rich chuckle and his eyebrows flashed swiftly up and down. 'I thought we could ride out tomorrow, your health and your wife permitting. There are some fine hunting grounds up there on my side, too. I've recently built a lodge.'

'I may be able to escape for a few days,' Guyon answered cautiously. 'Providing your quarry is not boar.' His eyes went to the door. 'I don't hunt them for pleasure.'

'Does anyone?' Chester said, taking his meaning immediately, and changed his expression to one of beaming welcome as Judith entered the room followed by a maid bearing a flagon and cups.

CHAPTER 16

LONDON

WHITSUNTIDE 1100

The cry of a boatman floated up from the river.

Judith set her sewing aside and went to the casement. Blossom was drifting down from the apple trees in the garth, as green-tinted through the glass as the bright feathers of the popinjay regarding her beadily from its perch. Being momentarily high in the King's favour, Emma's husband could afford to waste silver on such rare frivolities as green glass windows and exotic foreign birds.

She and Guyon were in London to attend the Whitsuntide gathering of the court, held this year at the newly completed Palace of Westminster designed by Rannulf Flambard, who took men's money and spent it in the name of the crown. The city was crowded, as packed to bursting as a thrifty housewife's jar of dried beans, and only the highest magnates in the land were granted sleeping space within Westminster and its immediate environs. The rest had to manage as best they could. Conveniently for them, Richard, Guyon's brother-in-law, owned a house on the Strand but a few minutes' walk from the new palace and was able, with a bit of a squeeze and a great deal of organising from Emma, to house Judith and Guyon and their immediate servants for the length of their sojourn. They were uncomfortable and cramped, but more fortunate than most .. fortunate being a relative term, Judith thought and scowled over her shoulder at the bed in the corner of the curtain-partitioned room.