‘You’re hurting.’

The grip eased. ‘Old crony? Not Fletcher?’

‘No. Another one. I saw him at Duke’s Tavern, and again at the fire. He’s built like an ox, and blond – a Norseman’s looks. And the other day by Kermaria chapel–’

‘Hell! It has to be Malait.’

He released her, and she rubbed her arm. ‘I don’t know him by name,’ she said, throwing a worried glance at the yawning entrance.

‘What was he riding?’

‘What? Oh, a grey.’

‘Thin and bony? Long in the leg? Looks barely able to hold him up.’

‘That’s the one.’ The entrance was still clear.

‘Hell. De Roncier has such a horse, and for some reason Malait favours him.’ His voice was low and fuelled Gwenn’s fear. ‘Otto Malait is as hard as nails, mistress. A dangerous enemy.’

‘He’s not my enemy!’

‘You’d best pray you’re right.’ Striding over, he thrust a soggy bundle of rags at her. ‘Here, I tripped over this. Is this what you’re after?’

Gwenn accepted the bundle with a cautious lifting of her heart. Perhaps le Bret was not after the jewel...

‘Hurry.’ The wind and thunder were reaching a peak. ‘If it is Malait out there, we may not have much time.’

Unwrapping the sodden bundle, Gwenn felt the familiar shape of her grandmother’s statue rest chill in her hand. ‘This is it,’ she said, smiling. ‘We can go.’

Alan le Bret shook his head. He loomed over her, standing so close that his breath fanned her cheek. ‘Open it,’ he demanded, in clipped tones.

Her heart sank. Holding the statue tight to her breast, she retreated.

Le Bret took another step towards her. ‘Open it, girl, or, by God, you’ll regret it.’

‘You...devil! You...mercenary–’

‘Do it.’

She thought quickly. There was little to be gained from antagonising him over the sunstone. She gave what she hoped was a casual shrug and held it out to him. ‘You do it. It’s too stiff for me.’

He was startled that she should give it up so easily; the brief hesitation before he lifted the statue from her hands betrayed that. ‘How?’

Her mother had told her what to do. ‘Twist the statue in this direction,’ she mimed the movement, ‘and the wooden plinth in the other.’

He drew in a breath and pulled. There was a slight resistance and then the two sections came apart with a creak. A small object plummeted into the earth. Dropping both statue and cedar wood base, Alan fell to his knees, and groped – a beast in the mire.

‘Got it!’ he said, plucking impatiently at the strings of the leather pouch. The crystal rolled into his palm, hard and cold as steel. It captured the pale light and drew it into its heart, where it was muted before being thrown out again. It glowed dully, like flawed lake-ice on a sunny January day. ‘Got it!’

Gwenn gazed at the diamond-shaped stone on Alan le Bret’s palm. Yolande had warned her that the sunstone did not shine brightly like spring water, and that was indeed so. Le Bret, who would not meet her eyes, apparently had not noticed. But then the light was weak, and he had not known what to expect. He saw what he wanted to see.

‘Do you want to keep that, Alan le Bret?’

Strong, bitten, soldier’s fingers snapped over the stone, and the feeble glow was snuffed out. He climbed to his full height and turned his head towards her, but would only look at her shoulder.

‘If you want it,’ she continued softly, ‘I’ll give it to you.’

‘Give?’ The darkness shielded his expression.

‘I’m not prepared to die for a rock.’

The sudden stillness of his body told her she had shocked him. A hand came up and a finger feathered across her cheek. Gwenn drew back, and his hand fell. ‘I wouldn’t have killed you for the gem, little Blanche,’ he said reproachfully.

She caught his gaze. ‘I would like to believe that, Alan le Bret, but then I would have liked to believe that you were an honest man.’

He swung on his heel. ‘Don’t fix those big, brown eyes on me like that, curse you.’

‘Like what?’ she asked, sweetly.

He flung her a withering look. ‘You know, mistress. You may be a child, but you know very well. I’ve told you before, you’re wasting your time preaching to me. I’m a lost soul.’

Outside, the wind howled and whistled. There was thunder too, much muffled by the roof of heaped earth and stones. ‘I wonder if you are as much of a devil as you would like to think. Like it or not, you have a conscience.’

He waved a closed fist under her nose. ‘You forget, I have the stone.’

‘Aye, you have it. But what do you have? What is that stone’s true worth?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The stone is pretty, Alan le Bret, but it belongs to the past. Your friend out there,’ she jerked her head towards the mouth of the cave, ‘his ancestors would have valued it. Today, it’s worthless – a lump of crystal, no diamond.’

Alan stared into the girl’s large eyes, but they were as soft and open and honest as always. A hard hand clenched in his stomach, and he was horribly certain that Gwenn Herevi was telling the truth. Slowly he uncurled his fingers. ‘Worthless?’

She lifted it from his palm, and nodded. ‘It’s a sunstone.’

‘A sunstone?’ He let out an oath that burned Gwenn’s ears. ‘What the hell is a sunstone?’

‘A sunstone tells you where the sun is on a cloudy day. You hold it up to the clouds and when you have it pointed it at the spot where the sun is hiding, you can see a rainbow in it.’

‘Rainbow? Jesu! What children’s tale is this? What of the diamond?’ he demanded, roughly. ‘Is there a diamond?’

He had backed her into a place where the only road open was a liar’s one. Boldly, Gwenn stepped onto it, fighting to keep her features from betraying her. ‘There was, once. But you’ve seen my father’s manor. You have remarked on the poor quality of his horses. My father is not a rich man. The jewel was–’

‘Sold?’

She nodded, obscurely relieved that she had not had to speak the false words aloud.

‘Well, isn’t that lovely?’ he drawled with ponderous sarcasm. ‘We could have done with a sunstone to light our way this morning. Come, Mistress Blanche, let’s get out of this stinking tomb. I’ll take you home.’

‘You will? I...I thought you’d abandon me, lest I should betray your intentions.’

‘It had occurred to me. But I won’t escort you the whole way. As you may have guessed, I’m bound...elsewhere, but it’s no burden to take you to the crossroads just east of Kermaria. My road goes that way.’

‘My thanks,’ Gwenn murmured. Her assessment of him was not so wide of the mark. A man who had completely lost his soul would have tossed her in a ditch and run off with her father’s horses, worn-out nags though they were. ‘You don’t want to come back with me? My father did offer you work.’

‘No.’ He gave her one of his oblique smiles. ‘I’ve burnt my bridges as far as your family is concerned, mistress.’

‘If,’ she hesitated, ‘if you wanted to stay, I’d not say a word against you.’

For a heartbeat he stood stock-still, and then he bowed over her hand with perfect, heartrending gallantry. ‘My thanks, sweet Blanche, but I have other plans.’

‘You don’t trust me. You think I will betray you.’

‘No.’ His tone was curt. ‘I do trust you, mistress, and there are not many I could say that to. But I’ll not stay. Here,’ he stooped for the statue, ‘take your blasted rock and we can be on our way.’ Impatiently he rubbed his bad leg while Gwenn replaced the sunstone in its compartment. He led her to the entrance. ‘Up you go.’

A stream of water was pouring down the steps, making them slippery. Gwenn went a couple of paces and drew up, like a balky horse.

‘What now?’ Alan groaned. She was flattened against the entrance wall, shaking her head. Screwing his eyes against the cutting rain, Alan saw a domed metal helmet and broad shoulders shift against the tempestuous sky. ‘Malait!’ he exclaimed. ‘So it was you she saw!’