«Oh, Alyce, look!» Zoë whispered, as they paused on the cathedral steps while Xander engaged a pair of local men to look after their horses. «Do I see silks on offer over there?» she asked, pointing toward a distant stall where lengths of shimmering silks and damask glistened in the morning sunlight.

«So it would appear», Alyce replied. «I told you that traders from farther east pass regularly through Corwyn’s port. After we’ve been inside, I thought we might try to find some lengths of silk for your wedding gown. Xander», she said a bit louder, «you and Melissa may wait here. Feel free to browse at this edge of the market, if you wish». She did not include Trevor in the order, knowing he would be a discreet shadow for necessary protection.

«Ah, so that’s why you wanted to come down here so early», Zoë said, as she and Alyce continued up the steps, Alaric between them and Trevor dutifully following. «You’d mentioned eastern silks on the ride from Cynfyn, but I hadn’t expected such prompt attention to the mission».

«Well, I can’t have you disgracing the family when you walk down the aisle to meet Jovett, can I?» Alyce said brightly. «Whether you’re my heart-sister or my daughter, it’s my responsibility to make certain you’re well turned out. Besides», she added with a sly wink, «you helped me with my bridal finery, as I recall».

«True enough», Zoë agreed. «Oh, Alyce». She sighed as they reached the west door and paused to gaze up at the carving above the tympanum, depicting the Last Judgement. «The last time we walked through this door, it was to bury poor Marie. We have shared some sad times, haven’t we?»

Alyce nodded, remembering the cathedral aisle strewn with the flowers that should have conveyed Marie to her bridal bed, and instead had lined the way to her tomb.

«Aye, both of us», she murmured. The memory of her brother Ahern on that occasion brought unbidden the image of a similar sad journey to bring her brother home to rest at Cynfyn: Ahern, who briefly had also been Zoë’s husband.

«But that’s all behind us now», Alyce went on brightly, forcing a smile to her lips as they continued into the church. «And we’ve shared joys as well. God willing, you shall soon be wed to your Jovett. The past is as it is. We must look to the future with hope».

Just inside the doors, they paused to bless themselves with holy water from a stoup carved like a seashell, and Alaric stretched up to gravely dip his fingers in the water and copy what his mother did.

«Mummy», he whispered, tugging urgently at her skirt as they started down the side aisle that led to the crypt entrance. «Does God live here?»

«Yes, He does, darling», Alyce answered distractedly.

«Oh», said Alaric. Then, «God must have lots of houses».

Alyce and Zoë exchanged glances, and Zoë rolled her eyes.

«He’s your son», Zoë whispered under her breath.

Alyce controlled a smile and hugged Alaric to her side as they continued walking.

«Yes, I suppose He does. God is always with us».

Alaric stopped dead in his tracks and looked up at his mother with wide, apprehensive eyes.

«Is God with us right now?» he whispered.

«Yes…»

The boy looked around surreptitiously and took his mother’s hand, pressing closer to her leg as he craned at the shadowed side aisles, lit by flickering candlelight.

«Why I don’t see anybody?»

«Well, God doesn’t have a body like you and me», his mother began.

«No body?» Alaric whispered.

«But that doesn’t mean He isn’t there», Alyce went on. «There are lots of things you can’t see, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there. Can you see the wind?»

Alaric shook his head.

«But you can see what it does, can’t you?»

The boy’s brow furrowed as he considered the question. «I can see things moving», he said tentatively. «I can see the trees…»

«Of course you can», she replied. «And would you agree that it’s the wind that makes the trees move?»

Slowly he nodded, though he looked dubious. Then: «Mummy, that’s silly», he said indignantly. «God isn’t made of wind».

So saying, he pulled away from her and ran on ahead to disappear into the open stairwell that led down to the crypt. Following, Alyce and Zoë saw him standing halfway down its length, silver-gilt head thrown back and small fists set stubbornly on his hips as he inspected the stone vaulting above their heads and the sea of tombs beyond. Soon he was wandering among the tombs and craning his neck for a better look at the effigies that crowned some of them. Alyce only exchanged glances with Zoë, rolling her eyes heavenward.

«Well», said Zoë, «you wouldn’t have wanted a dull-witted child, would you? And not yet three, either. Good heavens, you don’t suppose he’ll want to be a priest?»

Alyce chuckled mirthlessly. «My kind can’t be priests, remember? Besides, he’s going to be a duke».

«Some duke», Zoë replied, smiling, then glanced around, sobering, for they were nearing Marie’s tomb, flanked by those of her mother and her grandmother.

«They never put an effigy on it», Alyce murmured, running a hand across the surface of the tomb’s alabaster lid, then bending for a closer look at the lettering incised around the base.

«Are you sure this is hers?» Zoë replied, crouching down beside her.

Glancing over her shoulder first, Alyce briefly conjured handfire to light the lettering, confirming that it was, indeed, her sister’s tomb, then extinguished the light and rose. At the head of the tomb, a dried floral wreath paid mute tribute to the maid who lay within.

«I wonder who left the flowers», Zoë breathed.

Faintly smiling, Alyce reached out to touch one of the sear blooms.

«It would have been Sé», she said softly.

«How do you know?»

«Father Paschal told me, the last time I saw him. He said that Sé comes every year, around the anniversary of her death, to lay a wreath and spend a night in vigil. He loved her very much. These would be nearly a year old. I wonder if he’ll come while we’re still here».

«Do you ever hear from him?» Zoë asked.

«Only when there’s need», Alyce replied. She rested both hands lightly on the edge of the tomb’s alabaster lid. «He seems to show up at important milestones in my life, like my wedding, Alaric’s christening». She shook her head gently. «Sometimes I wonder what it would have been like if we had wed — not that I regret any part of my marriage with Kenneth. The king did offer to give him my hand in place of Marie’s, after Marie died. But I love him like a brother, Zoë. I never could have married him. Still, we would have been quite a match in power. And now, with his Anviler training…The knights at Incus Domini are very fortunate to have him».

«Aye, they are», Zoë agreed. Sighing, she reached out to adjust the dried wreath, then bent closer and moved it slightly aside, her breath catching as she ran her fingertips over the simple inscription: Marie Stephania de Corwyn, 1071–1089.

«Dear God, it doesn’t seem fair, does it?» she asked.

Alyce slipped an arm around Zoë’s waist and hugged her briefly. «Life is rarely fair, I’m afraid — though maybe a bit of what we’re doing can change that for the future. Besides, sometimes things do happen as they’re meant to do. You’re happy about marrying Jovett, aren’t you?»

«Of course».

«Then, let’s see about those silks in the market square, shall we?»