Trust a man to be fooling about on a jousting field when there were more important matters to be dealt with, she thought, irritated.

Another husky groan startled her. This one seemed louder than the last, as though it were approaching some peak or hurdle. It occurred to her that she had no notion of how long it took to make love. Mayhap Gilbert and his lady would emerge from the bushes at any moment. They would see her standing there looking quite foolish.

If she was going to act, it had to be soon.

Alice took a deep, steadying breath and marched determinedly toward the pile of discarded clothing. When she reached it she saw at once that Gilbert had left not only his lute but a small canvas sack next to his tunic.

The sack was just the proper size to carry a large stone.

Alice hesitated once more and then reminded herself that Gilbert had stolen the crystal from her. She had every right to take it back.

Stealthily she opened the flap of the sack. An object approximately the size of the stone lay inside. It was swathed in an old rag.

With trembling ringers Alice lifted the heavy object out of the sack and eased aside a portion of the dirty cloth. The familiar dull sheen of the strange, clouded green crystal winked at her. The crystal's flat, wide facets caught the light but they did not reflect it very strongly.

There was no mistaking her green stone. A surge of satisfaction went through Alice. It was not an attractive chunk of crystal, but she found it fascinating. She had never seen a stone or crystal quite like it. She sensed it contained secrets, although in the short space of time in which it had been in her possession she had been unable to reason out what those secrets were.

A hoarse shout from the vicinity of the bushes made Alice start. She leaped to her feet, stone in hand. Then she heard Gilbert's voice.

"When I sing to your lord's men at the campfire tonight, my sweet, you will know that the lady in my song is you. Will you blush?"

"Of course, but who will see in the shadows?" The woman laughed. "You are indeed a rogue, Sir Troubadour."

"Thank you, madam." Gilbert chuckled. "I shall sing of your alabaster breasts and milk-white thighs. And of the honey and dew I found between those lovely thighs today. Your lord will be none the wiser."

"You had best pray that my lord does not recognize me in your poem," the lady said dryly, "else you will surely find yourself deprived of your fine lute."

Gilbert laughed uproariously. "There would be no pleasure in the chase if there were no risk involved. Some men prefer to take their sport on the jousting field. I prefer to take mine between the soft thighs of their ladies."

Alice hesitated no longer. Clutching the rag-wrapped stone, she fled. She could only pray that Gilbert would not hear her footsteps on the soft ground.

She had not gone far when she heard his angry shout. She knew that he had just discovered his loss.

Alice ran faster. She did not think that Gilbert had seen her.

She was breathing hard by the time she reached the stone wall of the old keep. She ducked behind a small wooden shed while she paused to catch her breath. In another few minutes she would be safe amid the fair crowds, she told herself. Gilbert would never be able to find her.

She took a deep breath. Pulse racing, she scurried out from behind the poor protection of the shed and dashed across an open field toward the first row of tents.

Two men armed with daggers stepped straight into her path. One gave her a toothless grin. The second wore a patch over his right eye.

Horrified, Alice stumbled to a halt.

"Well, now, what have we here but a fine lady with an interesting bundle in her hand. Seems the lad sold us sound information, Hubert."

The man wearing the eyepatch chuckled humorlessly. "Aye, so he did. Mayhap we should have paid him for his services, after all."

"Never pay for what ye can get for free, I always say." Toothless glided forward. He beckoned with his free hand. "Give us the stone, lady, and there'll be no trouble."

Alice drew herself up very straight and fixed him with a furious glare. "This stone belongs to me. Step aside at once."

Eyepatch chortled. "Sounds like a fine, proper lady, don't she? Always wanted me one of them."

"You can have her," Toothless muttered. "As soon as we've finished our business."

Alice clutched the stone and opened her mouth to scream for help. She knew with a sense of despair that there was no one around who would come to her aid.

"Has Benedict returned?" Hugh studied the far end of the jousting field. He could see Vincent's banners snapping in the breeze. Anticipation coursed through Hugh, icy and invigorating.

I shall not forget, Grandfather.

"Nay, m'lord." Dunstan followed Hugh's gaze. A knowing expression appeared in his eyes. "Well, well, well. I see that Vincent of Rivenhall is finally preparing to take the field."

"Aye, and about time, too." Hugh glanced toward the refuge tents, searching for Benedict. There was no sign of him. "Blood of the devil, where is that boy? He should have returned by now with news of his sister."

Hugh had sent Benedict off to fetch Alice when it had become apparent that she was not among the spectators. For some reason Hugh had been first disappointed and then thoroughly irritated to realize that Alice was not sitting with the ladies. He told himself that he had a right to be angry. He had, after all, given her specific instructions and she had ignored them. But he had an uneasy feeling that the matter went deeper.

She had doubtless found it convenient to pay him no heed because she did not consider him her rightful lord.

"Mayhap she has no interest in the sport." Dunstan spat on the ground. He surveyed the colorful flock of fluttering ladies who sat beneath the bright yellow awning on one side of the field. " 'Tis a man's game, after all."

"Aye." Hugh searched the crowd at the refuge tent once more, looking for Benedict.

"I remember the days when the ladies couldn't be bothered to come to a joust," Dunstan said. "Now they've turned these affairs into a matter of fashion. It's enough to make a stout knight weep."

"I can wait no longer," Hugh said. "Vincent is nearly ready. Have my horse brought to me."

"Aye, m'lord." Dunstan signaled to the squire who held the reins of Hugh's black war-horse.

Hugh cast one last look at the spectators. There was still no sign of Alice. "God's teeth. The lady has a lot to learn."

A broad-shouldered, heavily bearded man with small, glittering eyes walked out of the refuge tent. "Sir Hugh. I heard you were here. Could not resist the opportunity to unhorse Vincent of Rivenhall, eh?"

Hugh glanced at the newcomer without much enthusiasm. "They tell me that you have done well today, Eduard."

"I took a good war-horse and some armor from Alden of Granthorpe." Eduard chuckled hugely. "Left Sir Alden flopping about in the dirt with a broken leg. An amusing sight. Looked like an overturned turtle."

Hugh said nothing. He did not like Eduard. The man was several years older than himself, a hardened mercenary who sold his sword to anyone who could pay his price. That, in itself, was no great crime. Hugh knew full well that had his own fate not sent him into the household of Erasmus of Thornewood, he would have chosen a similar career.

Hugh's dislike of Eduard was based on other factors. The mercenary was a skilled warrior but he was crude and ill-mannered. Hugh had heard unpleasant rumors concerning the man's violent propensities toward young females, including one that several months ago a twelve-year-old tavern wench had died from Eduard's rough lust. Hugh did not know if the gossip was true, but he did not find it difficult to believe.