‘What?’ Triumph disarmed her.

Jean tweaked a braid, and his mouth turned up at the corners. ‘You heard. Waldin can witness our wedding. Let’s have one legitimate child.’

Yolande gulped and gazed wordlessly at her lover through a rush of tears. Her child was saved. One at least was saved.

‘Can you wait?’

‘What, till Waldin gets here? Of course.’ Then she caught his meaning. He must be stupid with fatigue. ‘Oh, I see. The babe. That’s not a problem, the babe’s not due till after Lammas.’

‘Good.’ Relaxing back onto the mattress, Jean shut his eyes. ‘Now that we’ve raked that one over good and proper, can we go to sleep, please?’

Yolande remembered Gwenn. ‘Not yet, I’m afraid.’

He groaned and lifted weary lids. ‘Can’t it wait?’

‘No. It concerns Gwenn. I don’t think you realise that she’s a young lady, Jean. We ought to plan her future.’

‘Plenty of time for that,’ airily, Jean waved that worry aside. ‘Let’s see ourselves wed first.’

Yolande studied her lover, trying to assess whether she was pushing him too far. She didn’t want to lose what ground she had gained. It might be no bad thing to leave settling Gwenn’s affairs till after her own wedding. Her belated marriage might not confer legitimacy on Gwenn, but it would make her a more attractive proposition.

Yolande nestled against Jean’s side, resting her head on his shoulder while one hand pushed open the neck of his chainse and drew circles among the hairs on his chest. There was grey intermixed with the brown, they were neither of them growing any younger. ‘I pray you are right,’ she said softly, ‘but I’m not so sure that we do have plenty of time.’

‘God’s bones, of course there’s time. We’ve years of living left to do.’

Yolande spread her fingers on his chest. ‘I daresay I’m wrong, indeed I hope I am, but I have noticed that Gwenn seems to spend a large portion of her day with one of the men-at-arms. It would be dreadful, would it not, if she were to get herself,’ a deprecating smile touched the corners of her mouth, ‘into the same state that I find myself.’

Jean caught her hand and stilled the circling movements. ‘I’ve noticed nothing. You must be mistaken. None of them would presume...’ Jean watched Yolande arch an immaculate eyebrow. ‘Who is it?’

‘Ned Fletcher.’

‘Fletcher? I trust Fletcher. I let him take her riding.’

‘Exactly. Think of the opportunities that presents.’

‘Ned Fletcher?’ Jean drummed his fingers on the back of Yolande’s hand. ‘I own you’ve surprised me. I’d not have thought it of that lad. He’s one of my best – responsible and hard-working.’ Impatiently, he thrust back his hair. ‘Damn it all, Yolande, I like the boy. I’d hoped to make him sergeant.’

‘I like him too, Jean. But don’t you see, that makes him even more dangerous.’

‘You don’t think he’s had her already? No one will want her if she’s lost her virtue.’

‘No. I’m prepared to take my oath that they are both innocents. You should have seen the way he blushed when she fluttered her eyelashes at him this evening.’

‘The hussy. It would be damned inconvenient if she fancied herself in love with him. Does she?’

‘I think not. But you know what a baggage Gwenn can be. She has discovered the effect she has on the boy, and cannot help but try out her wiles on him. The result is that the poor lad is being teased mercilessly. I’m sure she doesn’t mean to be cruel, but you know Gwenn, she has to test everything to the limits.’

‘Something will have to be done, I agree. I’ll keep an eye on them. I won’t have my Gwenn wasting herself on some peasant boy who couldn’t keep her in clogs. I had it in mind for her to marry a wine merchant in Vannes, Dagobert by name.’

‘No, Jean. Not Vannes. Gwenn hates Vannes.’

Jean looked down his nose at her. ‘The whim of my daughter does not come into this.’

‘It’s more than any whim, Jean.’

Her objection went unheeded, and the sensuous mouth tightened. ‘Marriage is a matter of politics,’ Jean said, mouthing the beliefs of his class. ‘Daughters marry to suit their parents, and if it suits me to make an alliance with one of the richest men in Vannes, she’ll obey me. However,’ the muscles round his mouth relaxed, ‘as we are to be married soon, I think I’ll commence negotiations in another quarter. Since our household is to turn respectable, and Gwenn’s brother,’ he placed tender fingers on Yolande’s belly, ‘will claim your mother’s lands, we’ll want more than a vintner for our eldest daughter.’ He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘By St Patern, I’m worn out. If I promise to look into this, will you let me get some sleep?’

Yolande smiled. ‘I will. Good night, Jean.’

He reached for the lantern, and snuffed out the flame. ‘Good night, my love.’

Chapter Twelve

At dawn two days later, Gwenn went to the stables to meet Ned for their early morning ride as had become their custom. The day was bright and clear, so clear it seemed to shine.

When Gwenn entered, Ned was securing the girth on Yolande’s brown mare. He greeted her with a warm smile, and hoped he was managing to conceal the effect she always had on his heartbeat. ‘Good morning, mistress. Here is Dancer all saddled up.’ Yolande had asked Gwenn to exercise Dancer while she was carrying.

‘My thanks, Ned. Where are we going today?’

‘I thought we could aim for Locmariaquer.’

‘Locmariaquer? But won’t that take too long? Can you spare me so much time?’

Ned grinned, and answered as lightly as he could. ‘I’d give you all the time in the world, mistress, if it was mine to give.’ He led Dancer and the grey gelding that he was to ride out into the yard.

‘But your duties?’

‘I don’t have to report for duty till this afternoon.’

‘So we have the whole morning?’

‘We have the whole morning.’ Ned linked his hands and squired Gwenn onto Dancer. ‘But don’t tell me you’ve been to Locamariaquer already? I wanted to show the old earthworks to you. There’s a curious temple that some say was used for human sacrifice by monsters from the past.’ He contorted his face into a hideous grimace and brought it as near to hers as he dared.

Smiling, Gwenn pushed him away. ‘Why is it that you’re always trying to scare me out of my wits, Ned?’

‘I don’t know. I must like it when you scream.’ Ned turned away. ‘But if you’ve seen them before...’

‘You can still show them to me. I’ve not been there since your cousin left, and when I saw them I was...somewhat distracted. I’d love to see them with you.’

‘Good. And on the way you can tell me all about your Uncle Waldin. And tournaments, and jousting, and–’

‘I don’t know much!’

‘Tell me what you do know.’

They were all but out of the yard when Raymond hailed them from the top of the manor steps.

‘Hold on you two! I’m to come with you.’ Rubbing bleary eyes, Raymond stumbled into the stables, and thereafter a series of bumps and scuffles and muted swearing drifted out on the dawn breeze.

Gwenn groaned. ‘I was afraid of this.’

‘Mistress?’

‘It’s nothing, Ned. Just some stupid idea that has lodged in Mama’s head. Raymond’s been sent to keep an eye on us.’

Ned looked sharply at Gwenn and felt his colour rise. ‘You mean...b...but Mistress Gwenn, I’d never...’

‘I know, Ned.’ Gwenn sighed. ‘We’re friends. But others, apparently, have other ideas.’

***

That afternoon, Ned took his turn on guard at the top of the tower. Cooing white doves roosted in nesting boxes all round the rooftop. Ned was bored. His scalp itched. Removing his helmet, he ran a hand through his fair thatch of hair, which he wore shorter these days, like a veteran. Since Alan had gone his own way, Ned had discovered within himself an untapped well of personal ambition. He wanted to succeed here. He wanted to win promotion. He crammed his helmet back on and diligently scanned the well-ordered village laid out below.