"Which only goes to prove true what I said earlier. What constitutes a pleasant little legend in some parts is naught but a poor jest in others."

"Sir Hugh once caused bold knights

to shudder and quail.

But henceforth let the truth of his

cowardly nature prevail."

"This is outrageous." Alice stalked toward the tent flap. "I shall not stand for it. You missed that silly joust today because you were occupied with the business of being a true hero."

Belatedly, Hugh realized that Alice intended to confront the troubadour. "Uh, Alice, wait. Come back here."

"I shall return in a moment, my lord. First I must correct that troubadour's idiotic verse." Alice slipped through the tent flap. It dropped back into place behind her.

"God's teeth." Hugh rose from the wooden chest and crossed the tent carpet in two strides.

He reached the flap and yanked it open. He saw Alice in the light of the campfire. She had her skirts clutched in her hands as she went briskly toward the neighboring encampment. Her chin was angled determinedly. His men stared after her in consternation.

The troubadour, heedless of impending trouble, continued with the next verse of his song.

"Mayhap his fair lady will search

for another strong knight who can please.

For the Bringer of Storms has gone soft,

now 'tis limp as a midsummer breeze."

"You, there, sir troubadour," Alice called loudly. "Cease braying that foolish song at once, do you hear me?"

The troubadour, who had been wandering among the encampments, pausing to sing his new ballad wherever he was invited to do so, broke off abruptly.

It seemed to Hugh that the night became suddenly and unnaturally quiet. His own men were not the only ones gazing at Alice in astonishment. She had the attention of all those gathered about the nearby fires.

The troubadour swept Alice a deep bow as she came to a halt directly in front of him.

"My lady, forgive me," he murmured with mocking courtesy, "I regret that my song does not please you. 'Twas composed only this afternoon at the request of a most noble and valiant knight."

"Vincent of Rivenhall, I assume?"

"Aye." The troubadour laughed. " 'Twas indeed Sir Vincent who requested a song to celebrate his great victory on the jousting field. Would you deny him a hero's ballad?"

"Aye, that I would. Especially when he was not the champion today. 'Twas Sir Hugh who played the true and gallant hero."

"By refusing to take the field against Sir Vincent?" The troubadour grinned. "Forgive me, but that is an odd notion of a hero, madam."

" 'Tis obvious that neither you nor Sir Vincent knows the true facts concerning what happened this afternoon." Alice paused to glower at the circle of listeners she had collected. "Hear me, all of you, and listen well for now I shall tell you what really happened today. Sir Hugh was obliged to miss the joust because he was occupied with a hero's task."

A tall man dressed in a red tunic walked into the circle of firelight. The flames revealed his aquiline features.

Hugh groaned as he recognized the newcomer.

"What heroic task took Sir Hugh from the field of honor, my lady?" the tall man asked politely.

Alice whirled to confront him. "I would have you know that Sir Hugh saved me from two vicious thieves this afternoon while Sir Vincent was playing games. The robbers would have murdered me in cold blood, sir."

"And who are you?" the tall man asked.

"I am Alice, Sir Hugh's betrothed wife."

A ripple of interested murmurs greeted that announcement. Alice paid them no heed.

"Are you, indeed." The tall man examined her in the firelight. "How interesting."

Alice fixed him with a quelling glare. "Surely you will agree that saving my life was a far more heroic deed than engaging in a bit of nonsensical sport."

The tall man's gaze went past Alice to where Hugh stood a short distance behind her. Hugh smiled faintly as he met eyes that he knew were very nearly the same color as his own.

The tall man turned back to Alice. He swept her a sardonic bow. "My apologies, madam. I am sorry if the troubadour's song offended you. And I rejoice to know that you survived your encounter with thieves this afternoon."

"Thank you," Alice said with icy politeness.

"You are obviously something of an innocent, madam." The tall man stepped back out of the firelight. "It will be amusing to see how long Hugh the Relentless remains a true hero in your eyes."

He did not wait for a response.

Alice glared after him and then turned once more to the troubadour. "Find another song to sing."

"Aye, my lady." The troubadour's expression gleamed with laconic amusement as he swept her another bow.

Alice whirled about and strode back toward Hugh's encampment. She paused when she saw him standing in her path.

"Oh, there you are, my lord. I am pleased to say that I do not believe we shall be troubled again by that ridiculous ballad about Sir Vincent of Rivenhall."

"Thank you, lady." Hugh took her arm to lead her back to the tent. "I appreciate your concern for me."

"Don't be ridiculous. I could not allow that idiot to sing his lies about you, sir. He had no business making a hero out of Sir Vincent of Rivenhall when you were the true hero of the day."

"Troubadours must make their living in whatever way they can. No doubt Sir Vincent paid well for his ballad."

"Aye." Alice's face lit with sudden enthusiasm. "A thought has just occurred to me, sir. We should pay the troubadour to invent a song about you, my lord."

"I'd prefer that we did not do that," Hugh said very distinctly. "I have better things to spend my money on than a ballad featuring myself."

"Very well, if you insist." Alice sighed. "I suppose it would be quite expensive."

"Aye."

"Nevertheless, it would be a very lovely song, I'll wager. Well worth the cost."

"Forget it, Alice."

She made a face. "Do you know the identity of that tall man who came to stand by the fire?"

"Aye," Hugh said. "That was Vincent of Rivenhall."

"Sir Vincent?" Alice came to an abrupt halt. She gazed at Hugh with astonishment. "Do you know, sir, there was something about him that reminded me a little of you."

"He's my cousin," Hugh said. "His uncle, Sir Matthew, was my father."

"Your cousin." Alice looked dumbfounded.

"My father was the heir to Rivenhall." Hugh smiled with the humorless amusement he had long cultivated for this particular topic. "Had Sir Matthew not neglected to marry my mother before he got her with child, I, not Sir Vincent, would have inherited the Rivenhall lands."

Alice was very conscious of the amused gazes of Hugh's men. She went briskly back toward the tent, aware that several of those gathered around the fire were concealing wide grins. Even Benedict was watching her with a strange expression, as though he were having difficulty restraining laughter.

"If my ears do not deceive me," Dunstan remarked in a voice that managed to carry clearly across the fire, " 'twould seem that yon minstrel has found himself a new song to sing."

"Hugh the Relentless may put aside his sword

for he is betrothed to a lady who will defend

her lord."

"Aye," someone else said with satisfaction. " 'Tis far more entertaining than the other."

Laughter filled the air.

Alice grimaced and glanced back over her shoulder. The troubadour whom Vincent had paid to sing the nasty ballad about Hugh was indeed strumming a new tune on his lute. He was wandering back through the encampments, regaling one and all with the song.

"She has brought him a dowry more priceless