'So all this is done with shears,' he murmured, smoothing the pile.

She looked at his slender fingers on the nap of the cloth. Heulwen's were chubby little stars, formless as yet. 'It is a detailed skill and not many have it. My father thought of selling it in Winchester at the next court gathering.'

'Next court gathering's in London in November,'

Guyon said. 'What price for a Flemish ell of this stuff?'

Her hazel eyes met his and locked. His crinkled at the corners. She suggested a sum. He laughed and responded with an amount much lower.

'What's happening in November?'

'King Henry's marriage to Edith of Scotland. Judith suits autumn colours.'

'Your new King is to wed?'

'It's been under negotiation for a while, since before Rufus died. I think that they have only met once or twice. Still , that's more than Judith and I had.'

Rhosyn gave him a considering look. 'Is she still a child, Guy?'

'Neither child nor virgin, but as vulnerable as blown glass.' His brow furrowed. 'God knows, Rhos, I think I have her and then she eludes me with a twist of her mind and we are back where we started.'

'I know what you mean,' she said with a pained smile and then named another sum a little lower.

His brow cleared. 'I can get two ell s of silk damask for that price!'

'But then silk damask is not so rare.'

'And you are priceless.' He glinted her a look and made another bid. She snapped a response.

He pretended to ponder before answering.

Rhosyn began folding the bolt back upon itself.

'I'm not even sure that I want it,' he added with a grimace. 'Judith will probably think I am offering it to her as a sweetener. We quarrelled before I left and I had no defence except my word and that, apparently, is not good enough.'

Rhosyn straightened and stared at him. 'And is it a sweetener? Are you buying because you cannot have for the asking?'

'I don't think so.' He frowned. 'The King's marriage will throw her into the royal circle.

Henry's new Queen will be feted by the wives and daughters of the English barons and Judith will need to dress according to her rank. It is a practical luxury, I suppose.' His expression lightened and his eyes sparkled with devilry. 'And since Judith will be wearing it at court among all those other envious rich men's wives who will nag their husbands to death for a gown of the same, it behoves you to be generous in your dealings with me!'

Despite herself, Rhosyn was forced to laugh.

'Guy, you wretch!'

He grinned at her. Her heart melted but she did not show it. 'Very well , I'll meet you halfway.'

'As ever,' he said gravely, his eyes alight, and stood up.

She had forgotten how tall he was and the mail he wore made him seem twice his actual breadth.

Her body craved him. Her mind, cold and clear, prevented her from making a fool of herself. Her time was past. Out in the hall she could hear his men and Heulwen's crow of laughter. She moved towards the sounds of sanity.

'Robert de Belleme is back in the marches,' he warned, catching her arm as he followed her out.

'Alert your father if he does not already know. De Belleme is in a savage humour. Henry's much harder to handle than Rufus was and he'll take it out on those least able to defend themselves.

Have a care to yourself and the children and remember what I said about an escort if you should need to travel.'

'How could I forget when you keep ramming it down my throat?' She rolled her eyes heavenwards. 'Guy, I am not a half-wit.'

He squeezed her waist and gave a deprecatory smile. 'No, cariad, but I am.'

CHAPTER 21

LONDON NOVEMBER 1100

Alicia muttered an oath beneath her breath as she inadvertently stabbed herself with the embroidery needle for the third time in as many minutes. Sucking her finger, she bade Agnes light the candles. Then she looked across the brazier towards her daughter who sat with her shoulder pressed into the wall , unseeing eyes on the fading rain-spattered light through the open shutters.

It had not escaped Alicia's notice that her daughter and Guyon were barely on speaking terms these days. Judith behaved as if she loathed the sight of him, would not even let him near enough to lay a hand on her shoulder and refused if possible to make eye contact.

Sometimes when he turned away, she would look at him, her eyes filled with bewilderment. Alicia's only conclusion thus far was that Guyon had consummated the marriage and that Judith had reacted badly, but it did not satisfactorily explain all the other tensions she felt boiling around them.

Judith seemed to feel she had a genuine grievance. Guyon defended himself like a man with his hands tied behind his back, desperately but without effectiveness. Occasionally she had seen temper flash in his eyes and then extinguish, doused by Judith's cold contempt and his own control.

Indeed, since Henry had granted Guyon more lands following his coronation and marriage to the Princess Edith last week, Judith's mood had been vicious and there had been no living with her. Guyon had chosen to remain absent, attending upon Henry in council at Westminster.

Judith, who should have been with him visiting the Queen, had professed a headache and declined to come and now sat shivering on the window seat, staring blankly into the distance.

'Come away to the brazier, love,' entreated Alicia with a worried frown. 'If there's a draught, you'll catch a chill .'

Judith gave a wordless shake of her head.

Alicia carefully set the needle into the fabric, put her sewing down and crossed to the window.

Close to, she saw why Judith had not answered.

Her throat was jerking convulsively as she fought down the sobs that were struggling to tear their way to the surface and in the fading light, tears tracked glistening trails down her cheeks.

Alicia's own eyes prickled with pain at the sight of her daughter's suffering. Filled with worry, she folded Judith in a tender embrace.

The feel of her mother's arms around her, the secure, familiar smell of her, and the outpouring of love and sympathy were too much and Judith yielded to a turbulent storm of grief. Alicia held and rocked her, soothed her with murmured words and reassurances, stroked her hair and, when the first violence had passed, drew her away to a seat near the brazier. She dismissed the hovering, worried Agnes with a brief nod and a request for more charcoal.

'Now then,' she said as the curtain dropped behind the maid. 'What is wrong between you and Guyon? Sweeting, can it not be mended? Is it a matter of pride? Another woman?'

Judith shook her head and blew her nose on the square of linen that was handed to her. 'They would be easily overcome,' she said shakily. 'No, Mama, it is a matter of trust. He looks me in the face and lies. I cannot bear it!'

'Most men lie at one time or another,' Alicia said ruefully. 'Are you sure you are not making a mountain out of a molehill ?'

Judith lowered the linen square to her lap and wrung it into a rope. Her chin wobbled. 'I am sure.

There is something he will not tell me. I have asked and asked him, but he just backs away, walks out of the room if I persist and the stupid thing is, Mama, that if he did tell me, admitted to my face what I already know, I think I would die.'

'Daughter, what do you mean?' Alicia looked at her with increasing anxiety, sensing deeper water than a mere lovers' misunderstanding or jealous quarrel. Judith bent her head and began to cry again and shiver. Through the tears, muffled, a little incoherent and punctuated by long hesitation, Alicia received the tale and her own stare became as desolate as her daughter's. She put her hand to her mouth, feeling not just queasy but dreadfully sick.

'Mama, what am I going to do?' Judith wept brokenly.

Alicia stood up and moved stiffly to the flagon. It was almost empty but she splashed dregs into a cup and, ignoring the sediment, gulped it down.

'Your husband is innocent,' she said abruptly. 'The guilt is all mine. Lay the blame at my door, child, not his.'

Judith turned her head and stared at her mother in bewilderment.

'Yes, you do have a right to know, but not from your husband's stumbled-upon knowledge.'

Assailed by shock and dizziness, she reached for and grabbed the back of the bench chair. She had not believed in her wildest nightmare that it would come like this, so suddenly without time to prepare. What was she going to say? Mary, mother of God.

'Judith ...' She swallowed hard, lifted her chin and forced out the words as if they were scalding her tongue. '... Judith, Maurice de Montgomery was not your father ... I should have told you long since, but it was never the time ... And now I fear it is too late.'

Judith stared at her struggling mother, as if she had suddenly grown two heads.

Alicia put her hand to her breast. 'I know it is difficult for you to understand, but if Maurice had ever found out--'

'Then who is?' Judith interrupted.

'Judith, I ...' Alicia extended her hand in a pleading gesture.

Judith leaped to her feet, ignoring it. 'Who, Mama?' she demanded again.

Alicia made a small , frightened gesture. 'Henry ... Prince Henry ... the King.'

'That's not possible. He is only Guy's age now!' Judith stared at her mother, appalled and disbelieving.

'Even at fourteen he was no novice to the game,' Alicia answered wearily. 'He knew more than a woman twelve years wed.' Of necessity, she held Judith's gaze, but the feelings of guilt were almost more than she could bear, and her daughter's anguished look seared her heart.