~~Eleven~~

Katherine stretched lazily, and then sat up, realizing she was not in
her own bed. And furthermore she was not alone in what was not her bed.
She started to get out of bed when she felt William's hand on her back.
"Kate?" he said sleepily.
 
"I have to feed Quaid." She turned back to him and dropped a kiss on his
cheek. "I'll be back."
 
"Don't stay away long." He turned over onto his stomach.
 
She paused for a moment and pulled the blankets up to his shoulders, and
kissed the back of his head. She hastily dressed, and went to her own
chamber. It was late, very late, and her breasts were full and heavy.
She could hear Quaid fussing as she approached. She opened the door to
see Milly trying to soothe the baby.
 
"Oh, my lady, thank goodness," Milly said with relief. "He's hungry, I
think."
 
"Yes, indeed," Katherine said dryly, taking the baby. He squealed and
began to root at her breast, and she whispered to him as she untied her
gown.

 Milly said with studied casualness, "You have been with my lord?"
 
"I have."

 "And how is he?"
 
Katherine could not repress her smile. "Happy to be home," she said, and
inhaled sharply as Quaid latched on to her sensitized nipple. "You're
such a hungry little laddie," she said, kissing him, and he smiled at
her through a mouthful of milk.
 
"My lady?"
 
"Yes, Milly."
 
"This is probably not my place, but don't you think it isn't wise to,
um, with my lord?"
 
"To 'um'?"

"Outside of marriage?"

 "Oh, Milly."

 "I am only concerned with you, and what people think about you. You
know there are already people here who think you are his mistress, and
they dislike you for it. If it's true--"

"They will continue to dislike me, whether it is true or false. Now they
have a genuine reason. Of course we're not going to tell many people,
are we, Milly?"
 
"I suppose not."
 
"Thank you."
 
"But it's different with regular people," Milly said, and Katherine
sighed. "If it were me no one would care, but it's you, a queen, a
king's daughter. You're above such things."

 "Above such things as passion?" Katherine said.
 
"Passion, my lady," Milly said, blushing.
 
"Passion. I think you understand it better than you let on."
 
"Oh, my lady."

 "When he holds you in his arms, doesn't it thrill you to your very
core? Don't you want to touch every inch of his body, kiss his lips,
make him sigh your name . . ." Katherine sighed herself, letting her
eyes close at the memory.
 
"Oh, really, my lady," Milly said, but then climbed onto the bed with
her. "And isn't it wonderful when he starts to shake all over and says
your name like it's the cure for all the ills in the world?"
 
"And when he looks at you like you're an angel."
 
"And when he tells you how beautiful you are, each part of you." Milly
pressed her hands to her face, covering her blushing cheeks.
"And when he calls you sweet names . . . what does my lord call you?"
 
"Katie," Katherine said softly. "He calls me Katie." She could tell by
Milly's expression it meant nothing to her, and she added, "When I was
very small I was called Katie. No one has called me that for a very long
time."

 "Oh. I see. But not sweetheart, or beloved, or dear one?"

 "He calls me sweet things. I do rather enjoy it."

 "Oh, you do, rather," Milly teased, laughing, and Katherine laughed as
well, startling Quaid, who blinked his sleepy eyes and let them fall
closed again.

 "What I like better than the sweet names, though, are the kisses.
Kisses are wonderful, aren't they?"
 
"They are. They're wonderful. My lady, is it not wicked to talk this
way?"
 
"Wicked? Oh, no. Frivolous, perhaps. But not wicked."
 
"I never thought I'd have a lover," Milly said. "I never thought I'd be
a wife. Especially to someone so wise and tender." She lay down on her
side and leaned her head on her hand. "And maybe next year I'll be a
mother too."
 
"What will you name your firstborn?"
 
"Perhaps John, after my father. Why did you name your son Henry?"
 
"It seemed like a good name for a king."
 
"It is. It is a very good name for a king. Anna Rose is like poetry.
I don't know anyone who has two names."
 
"My mother's name was Rose, and his mother's was Anna. We just put the
two together."
 
"My mother's name is Mildred too, I'm not sure I want third in the
family. Perhaps Mary, or Elizabeth. Mark and I haven't talked yet about
what we want to name our children." She giggled and rolled onto her
back, covering her face with her hands. "My children. Oh, my lady! How
exciting it is! Were you like this, when you were to be married?"
 
"Walter was more of a friend to me than a lover at first. We did not
talk about what we would name our children until we were actually
expecting one." She smiled, caressing Quaid's head gently. "How
wonderful it was to have that first child, too. All of my sweet babies.
So wonderful."
 
Milly sighed and played with Quaid's tiny bare foot. "What if . . .
what if you get with child by my lord, my lady?"
 
Katherine's eyes widened and she said, "As long as you're nursing, your
cycle is interrupted. By the time Quaid is weaned I'm sure my lord will
be tired of me."
 
"You think my lord will grow tired of you?" Milly said, shocked.

 "I am quite sure of it. Passion is wonderful but it is short-lived.
I do not expect William to desire me forever."
 
"But you--but he--"

"Do not mistake me, Milly, I am happy with this arrangement. I have no
responsibilities to anyone but myself, and I can afford to act on my
desires. Perhaps it is wicked of me, but I am . . . quite satisfied with
the situation."
 
"My lady, I am entirely confused."
 
"Don't fret, Milly. I don't expect you to understand. I don't suppose
anyone will."
 
Soon Milly went back to her own bed. When Quaid had drunk his fill,
Katherine lifted him to her shoulder and began to pat his back. He
belched loudly and laid his head on her shoulder. "My precious pretty
one," Katherine cooed softly to him, "my sweet little bear. Soon you'll
see your brother and sister, who love you so much. And your mama loves
you and your grandpapa loves you, and Milly loves you and Margaret loves
you, because you're so lovable and sweet, yes you are. Are you going to
go to sleep quickly now for your mama?"
 
"Are you going to stay here the rest of the night, my lady?" asked Milly
sleepily.
 
"No, I'm going to go back to my lord as soon as my precious is asleep.
My lord is expecting me." She nuzzled Quaid's nose, and he yawned,
curling himself against her.
 
"My lady, do you not fear what will be said of you, if you are seen
going between this room and my lord's?"
 
Katherine had to smile. No, she did not fear what people would say.
"Sleep well, Milly. We'll speak more in the morning."
 
"Good night, my lady."
 
Katherine lay Quaid in his cradle with many kisses, and blew out the
candle Milly had left on the table. She went back to William's chamber,
and stood for a moment beside his bed, watching him sleep. He lay on his
back now instead of his stomach, and one arms was thrown out to the
side. She stripped down to her shift and crawled beneath the covers to
lie beside him, her head on his chest and her arm around him. William
murmured in his sleep and he turned towards her, pulling her closer to
him. She dropped kisses on his chest and closed her eyes.

 "How is Quaid?" he murmured after a few moments.

 "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

 "It's all right."

 "Quaid is fine. He was very hungry."
 
William stroked her back, then said, "Perhaps you ought to bring him in
here. And your things, as well. For convenience's sake."

 "It would be convenient. But would having him here not disturb you?'

"Why would it disturb me? I am quite used to him--and he, I think, is
used to me."

 "Yes, he likes you," Katherine said softly, sighing in contentment as
his slowly stroking hand caressed her neck and moved up under her hair.
 
"Katie." He played with one of the heavy coppery curls that hung down
her back, and looked at her through his lashes. "What happens now,
dearest Katie?"
 
"Perhaps you could kiss me and find out," Katherine said, smiling
mischievously and letting her eyes sparkle at him.
 
He smiled back, but much more seriously. "Dearest," he said, "I don't
mean now, I mean tonight and tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come."
 
"I know." She sighed and moved closer to him, tucking herself up beside
him so she could kiss his neck and chest. "I know what you mean. I don't
want to think about tomorrow. I don't want to think about consequences."
 
"We can't ignore what consequences will come, dearest." His hand moved
gently over her to rest on her belly, which was still soft and loose
from carrying Quaid.

 Katherine sighed again and buried his face in his neck. She knew he was
right, but she didn't want to think about that, either.

 "I suppose you ought to do what you normally do in such circumstances,"
she said eventually, and William's sigh was cavernous and sad.

 "I've never been in such circumstances," he said quietly. "I have no
children, Kate."

 "That you know of."

 "None, Kate. I have had few lovers and none has ever breathed to me the
possibility they were with child by me. I would want to know such a
thing, were it to ever happen, but it never has."
 
"I find it difficult to believe you've chosen to live like a monk.
Even Walter had a son and two daughters by other women."
 
"I'm not Walter, Kate."
 
"No," she said quietly, "you're not."
 
He said, "Tell me: were these children born before or after you were
married?"
 
"One before. The others after."
 
"And were you not upset?"
 
"No, I was very upset. Though his oldest daughter is older than me by a
few years--he gave her a dowry and married her well, and I've rarely
seen her."

 "But the others . . ."
 
"I was upset. Particularly when he brought his son to foster with us. It
was the only time Walter lost his temper with me, because I refused to
tell my children the boy was their brother." William stroked her back
sympathetically but said nothing. After a moment she went on softly, "I
knew that Walter was not always faithful to me. I did not like being
presented with the evidence."
 
"I am sorry, Katie."
 
"It was not long after my mother died. Perhaps Walter thought his son
would be a replacement for the child I had lost . . . but it was not.
William, I do not want to put you in such a situation--there are
precautions I could take--"

"You will not put me in such a situation."

 Katherine puzzled over this, then said, "You are right. I will be gone
from your life when I leave for good, it will never arise."

 "I thought you were only going to leave me if I told you to go."
 
"Yes, but that day will come soon enough."
 
"That day will never come. Even if you do leave me no other will take
your place."
 
"Even in my fondest daydreams I do not expect you to love me forever."
 "Why is that?" he said, turning onto his side and looking at her
seriously. "I intend to love you as long as I live, dearest."
 
"I suppose you said these same pretty words to your wife."
 
"I did. I meant them. They are still true. But she is dead, and I am
alive and with you."
 
She gave him a skeptical look and said, "Love is not a toy to bandy
about on a whim."
 
"Neither is it a corpse to seal within a crypt." He lay his hand over
her heart, which beat on steady and rapid. "How alive you are," he said
softly. "How alive and beautiful and passionate. How tragic it would be
for you to die now, at the height of your youth and vigor. And what a
pity it is that you seem to think you should."
 
She knocked his hand away and pushed herself away from him. "I think no
such thing."
 
"The way you carry on, I wonder if you wish you shared Walter's grave."
 
"I do nothing of the kind. I have friends--family--children--"

"But what of your heart, Katie?" He looked at her sorrowfully. "You let
yourself fill my empty places, why will you not let me fill yours?"
 
"I have no empty places."
 
"Liar. And a bad one, at that." He smiled at her gently, folding his
hands over his chest.
 
"The only empty place of mine that needs you to fill it is the one that
weeps for your touch," Katherine said quietly, again laying herself onto
him, and she dropped a hesitant kiss on his shoulder. She kept her cheek
on his chest and raised her eyes to meet his.

 His eyelids were lowered and he slowly shook his head. "We're not
finished speaking of this."
 
"Later," she whispered, moving up his body to cover his mouth with hers.
"Later."

*** *** ***

 Mel Foalon had been waiting. The girl Milly had offered to locate
Katherine for him a few times, but he said simply he would wait. He
played with Quaid, who accepted him as a poor substitute for his mother.
 
He could not think where she might be, away from her child throughout
the night. Milly seemed unconcerned, however, so he felt he should
follow suit. And soon Quaid would need to be fed, and surely she would
reappear then.
 
And soon she did so, and started when she saw Mel was waiting for her.
"Have you had a good evening?" she said, taking Quaid from his arms.
 
"I did. The people here are very warm."
 
"Yes." She smiled a private sort of smile as she settled herself onto
her bed, her favorite position, he had noticed, for feeding Quaid. "What
brings you here at this early hour?"
 
"Where were you, at this early hour?"
 
"Never you mind. What is it?"
 
Quaid sighed. "Very well. I wish to know what you intend, now that
William Wolf's Son has returned."
 
"What I intend is to stay until Quaid is strong enough to travel. That
will not be for some months yet. If you wish to return to my father when
John By the Way goes--"

"Only if you do not need me."
 
She smiled down at Quaid, who lay on her knees and babbled to her. "I
always need you. You are my dearest friend, you know that."
 
"Then why will you not tell what is going on with you? There is
something different about you today, that I can't place."
 
She smiled again and shook her head. "I am happy, that is all."
 
"That is good to hear," Mel said uncertainly, and ran his hand over his
balding head. He stood and bowed to her and started to go, and then
paused at the door and turned. "Katherine," he said sternly, "I have
heard disturbing rumors around the castle, about you and William. Are
they true?"

 "What have you heard?" she said, raising her eyes to him coolly.
 
"I know that he has shared your chamber. Tell me he does not also share
your bed."

 "I will not lie to you, Mel."

 He stared at her, then closed his eyes and shook his head. "Katherine.
Kate. Dearest child, is this the price he asks for your life?"
 
"No. He has asked nothing of me."
 
"You do not need to cheapen yourself this way."
 
"I do not feel cheap. I feel loved, deeply loved, and I have missed
feeling loved."
 
"He tells you he loves you?"

 "Yes. And I believe him."
 
"Do you return his love?"
 
Her gaze left his and she said softly, "I am not sure. I *like* him. I
enjoy him. When I am with William I do not miss Walter quite so much."
 
"I fear for you, Kate. I fear for what will happen to you when his
passion dies."

 "I will go home, that is all."
 
"And raise his brats in your father's house?"
 
She looked up and her eyes flared at him. "Mel, I love you dearly but
you may not speak to me that way. It is my decision. I will handle what
consequences may come."
 
"It may be your decision but it will affect everyone who loves you.
What if there is a child? You have seen what illegitimate children
cause."
 
"William has no wife or children to be affected."
 
"Then why will he not marry you?"
 
"He has not asked me."
 
"Why would he want to, when he already has you in his bed?"
 
"Mel!" she said sharply, and Quaid set about wailing in answer. "The
baby needs to be fed, and I am too weary to argue with you. I do not
need to justify myself to you."
 
"If you no longer trust me, child, to whom will you turn when you're
thrown out of this fool's paradise?" He slammed the chamber door shut
behind him, and went in search of William Wolf's Son.

 He found him in his planning room, with the friar and some others of
his men. Mel slammed his hand down on the table opposite William, and
everyone looked up at him with surprise. "She is a sweet and trusting
girl, and I will not allow you to hurt her any more than she already has
been."

 "I will never hurt her," William said softly. "Never, on my life."

 "Then do not force her into this humiliating arrangement. Send her
home, where she belongs."

 William's eyes were filled with pain. "There was no coercion. I swear
it. But I cannot send her home."

 "Then for God's sake, marry her! For her soul and your own."

 "She does not want to marry me."

 Mel took a deep breath, trying to control his anger. "When I was ten
years old I was given to her to be her guard, her advisor, her friend.
All that I have done in my life has been to make hers easier, to ease
her pain, to give whatever wisdom I had. It was my destiny to guard this
girl. But how can I protect her from you?" he said with some despair,
for he honestly did not know the answer.
 
"You do not need to protect her from me. I love her. As much, if not
more, as you do. I do not have the advantage of having watching her grow
and living with her throughout her life, but I swear, I would no more
hurt her than you would. And you would sooner die, am I right?"
 
"You are right."

 "Then please, trust me in this. My heart is hers, and anything else
that she desires. Please, could we discuss this later? In private?"

Mel looked at the other men around the room, and said shortly, "Yes.
You and I have much to discuss, I think." He turned and stalked out of
the room.

 ~~Twelve~~

Katherine came into William's chamber, to find William making faces at
Quaid to make him laugh. He sat cross-legged on his bed with the baby on
his lap, and Quaid laughed and bounced and clapped his hands.
Normally Katherine loved to see them play together, for William was at
ease with Quaid, and Quaid would spend many comfortable hours in
William's arms.

At the moment, however, she did not want to think about how happy the
two of them were together. She planted herself before William with her
hands on her hips and said,
"Where is Milly?"
 
"She wanted to spend some time with her sweetheart, so I said I'd take
Quaid. What have you been doing this morning?"
 
"Writing letters with Brother Michael." She pursed her lips and said,
"Why did you move my things in here without speaking to me first?"
 
"I thought we had discussed it already. You agreed it would be best, for
convenience's sake. Did I do wrong?"
 
"I know we discussed it, but that's not the point."
 
"Then what is the point, dearest?"
 
"I would have liked to have overseen it myself."
 
"There is not much to oversee. Quaid's clothing, his cradle and toys,
your clothing--did I forget anything?"
 
"No. You didn't forget anything." She sighed and sat down beside him on
the bed, and Quaid squealed, opening and closing his hands. She took
him, smiling, and kissed him noisily.
 
"Then what's wrong?" William caressed her hair.

"I would not like to inform everyone in this castle that we--that I am
your mistress." She kissed Quaid again to keep from looking at William.
 
William sighed and rearranged his legs so he could embrace both her and
Quaid to his chest. "Dearest," he said softly, "if you are embarrassed
or ashamed--"

"I am not ashamed. I merely do not want everyone to know." She sighed,
leaning back against his chest. He had drawn up his legs and crossed
them at the ankles, and she felt completely embraced and sheltered by
him. She said, "I wish there were no one in the world but us."
 
"Oh, dearest Katie," he said, and kissed her face. "It's not that bad,
is it?"

 "Mel scolded me." Her lips started to tremble and she pressed her face
against his arm. "If he thinks so poorly of me, what must the people who
already hate me be saying? That I've bewitched you? That I've enchanted
you? That I am going to be your downfall?"

 "No one is saying anything like that about you."

 "I am not so sure. This morning as I sat with Brother Michael, I got
several dirty looks from women under your care."

 "What are you suggesting?" William said with a chuckle.

 "I think they're jealous. I think there are any number of women here
who would love to be in my place."

 "Hm. Too bad for them." He kissed her again and said, "There is no one
else I want in your place."
 
Katherine had to smile, and turned back her head to kiss him in
gratitude. In her lap Quaid babbled, amusing himself with his hands.
She kissed Quaid as well, and said, "Mel said I am cheapening myself."
 
William stiffened for a moment, then said, "Do you feel cheap?"

 "No. Not at all. I told him how I do feel but it didn't seem to satisfy
him."
 
"How do you feel?"
She rubbed her cheek against Quaid's head, and said, "I feel loved,
William."
 
"Good," he whispered, and kissed her neck.
 
Katherine ducked away from the ticklish feeling of his lips, chuckling.
"William, it's the middle of the day."
 
"So it is. Do you have anything pressing going on?"
 
"Quaid is going to start wailing for his meal any moment."
 
"Oh, yes. I defer to the laddie. May I stay with you?"
 
"Yes. You may."
 
Quaid, however, did not seem to be hungry, and chewed on his fist and
looking around with wide, dark eyes. Katherine turned him to lie him on
his belly against her bosom, and he kicked up his heels, chortling.
William leaned back against his cushions, still holding them, and
Katherine wondered if he was dozing. She would not have been opposed to
a nap, herself, after their sport the night before.

 She said, "I know that Mel is only concerned for my well-being. He has
been my advisor and my friend all my life. I do listen to him, yet . .
."
 
"Dearest, if your conscience is not resting easily perhaps we ought to
reconsider."
 
She turned and looked at him, puzzled. "Reconsider, William? Is that
what you want?"
 
"No, but if it is the only way for you to be happy here, we can return
to the way things were before." He touched her cheek tenderly and kissed
her. "If that will make you happy."
 
"No," Katherine said. "That will not make me happy." She began to unknot
her gown and William chuckled. "It is time for Quaid to eat," she
admonished him as she bared herself.
 
"I know." He leaned his head against the back of her neck, and she held
Quaid to her breast. After a moment of searching he finally took the
nipple and began to suckle with determination.
 
Katherine had begun to drift into a comfortable languor when William
spoke again. "There is another course to take."

 "Hm? Oh. What is it?"
 He kissed her neck and whispered, "You could become my wife, and then
no one would question our being together."

 Her eyes flew open and she stammered, "William, I--that may not be--
oh, my."

 "Well, it may not be the wisest course, either."

 "I couldn't, William. It would endanger you and your people far to
much."

 "Are you still worried about FitzJames? He will discover soon enough
about my deception."

 "William, you must not do anything to endanger yourself or your people.
I will not allow it. Even the alliance with my father should be kept a
secret until such time as he can come to your assistance."

 "I would rather fight FitzJames over you than for any other reason,
even to defending the last stone of Weylin."

 "Are you not listening to me? If you go to war with FitzJames over me I
will--I will--I will leave this place. I will go into a convent--I will
become a hermit--I will go to farthest islands of the Picts--"

"All right, all right. Forgive me. That obviously is an unsuitable
solution."
 
Katherine leaned back against him again, and murmured soothingly to
Quaid, who had started to become agitated as their voices rose. When he
was calm again and sucking peacefully at her breast, she said, "Do not
concern yourself overmuch. It will be as I have said. I will tend to
what consequences arise."

 "Very well," William whispered, and lay his head on her shoulder.

*** *** ***

 William found Brother Michael in his chambers off the family chapel,
and he took the seat opposite Michael with a dramatic sigh. Michael
stopped reading and lay a page marker in his book, and looked up at
William with a patient expression.
 William toyed with one of Michael's candlesticks and said, "I asked
her."
 
"And?"
 
"She said no."
 
"Oh," Michael said. "I must say, that is not the answer I expected her
to give."

"I was not surprised. I had rather hoped . . . but I was not surprised.
Why would a queen want to marry a man such as I? I offer her no riches,
a very small piece of land--"

"But one of the most beautiful in all of Britain."
 
"There is little wealth in beauty. And I am sure after the bounty of
Angria she sees it as stark and lonely. I cannot ask her to stay here,
Michael. She longs for her own home, her own people."

 "The poets say there are ways of changing a woman's mind."

 "I've heard poets sing of battles in which I fought, and I did not
recognize them from the tale. I put little faith in the words of poets."

 "So you do not think a show of strength would impress her."
 
"Of strength? No. I could not slay enough dragons or fight enough
giants. She would find it foolish and dangerous, were I to try."

 "A great show of devotion, then."
 
"Such as what? She would not send me on a quest like a knight of Arthur.
If I found the Holy Grail for her she would thank me politely and ask
why I had stayed away so long." William sighed and lay his head on the
table.
 
"Try something simple, then. Write her a poem, or compose her a song."
 
"What could I say about her that has not been said a thousand times, by
poets far more skilled than I?"
 
"The difference between them and you being that you love her," Brother
Michael said in a complacent tone. "William, my friend, if you are
trying to prove your love only she knows what method will work. But you
must do something or live with the regret of doing nothing."
 
"I cannot convince myself it is right to ask her to stay."

 Brother Michael reopened his book and said, "Very well, William."
 
William watched him read for several minutes, then said, "You speak the
Irish tongue, do you not?"
 
"I do."
 
"Teach me to tell her I love her in her own language."
 
Now Michael smiled as he put the book aside. "Very well, William."
 
*** *** ***

William was not able to come to bed until late. His chamber was dark,
and he could hear the soft sounds of Katherine and the baby sleeping. He
knelt by Quaid's cradle to kiss him and make sure he was covered by his
blanket. The baby stirred but did not wake, and William undressed
himself and slipped into bed to join Katherine.

 She also stirred at his touch, and after a moment she said, "Have you
had a good day? I've hardly seen you."

 "It was a good day."

 She turned towards him and kissed his mouth. "Are you very weary?"
 
"Not very. Enough."
 
"Here." She sat up and pulled him towards her, and began rubbing his
shoulders. "Does this help?" she asked after a few moments.
 
"Very much."

 "What did you do today?"
 
He smiled. "Oh, the usual of a lord of the manor. And I had lessons."

 "Lessons? What are you learning?"
 
"Things I have neglected. You know, I look at you with your books and
your languages and your letters . . . I have never written a letter that
was meant for only one pair of eyes. Nor received one."
 
"A man in your position does not need to know how to read and write."
 
"You know how. And your brothers as well."
 
"Learning has always been highly valued in my family. You were taught to
fight and I was taught to read. Is that what you learned today? To
read?"
 
"No. There were other lessons today. Oh, that's it, right there."
 
Her hands continued to massage his back, and then lingered over a spot
on his lower back. "How did you get this scar?"
 
"A sword cut through my armor."
 Katherine leaned down and kissed it tenderly. "And this one?" She had
found one on his ribs.
 
"Quarterstaff."
 
She kissed that one was well. "And this one?" There was a large scar on
his shoulder.
 
"Thrown from a horse."
 
She kissed it. "This one?"

 "The same horse."

 She kissed it, and smoothed the puckered flesh with her fingertips.
"This one," she whispered, stroking an old and deep scar on his thigh.
 
"A mace. Broke my thigh. I couldn't walk for three months."
 
"You must have been bored."
 
"I was. Terribly."
 
"So what did you do for three months?"
 
"I drew."
 
"You draw?"
 
"I draw."
 
"Are you any good?"
 
"Well, I think so. I shall draw you someday and then you may judge for
yourself."
 
For a long time she continued rubbing his thigh gently, and then she
said, "I should like to see how you see me."
 
"I see you as everyone else sees you. As the most beautiful woman in the
world."
 
She bit his knee. "Don't call me that. It's absurd. There is no one
'most beautiful woman.' There are many, many beautiful women and we are
all beautiful differently."

 "As you say, madame."
 
"Furthermore, you do not see me as everyone else sees me. I don't know
exactly how it is that you see me, but I know that you see me in ways no
one else has before. You always have."
 
William sat up and reached for her in the darkness, and gently took hold
of her shoulders and drew her to him. She was trembling even as he held
her tight. "Fairest of all Kates," he said and kissed her. "Sweetest and
most lovely of all Kates. Do you want to see yourself through my eyes?
You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Perhaps I do see you
differently than others do, but if I do it is only because I love you."
 
She sighed and ran her hands through his hair, and said softly, "Love
me, then. Love me, William, love me." She pulled off her shift without
ceremony and pressed his hands to her breasts. He bent to kiss them, and
drew his tongue up her throat to suck on her ear.
 
"I do love you," he whispered, as her hands stroked over his chest and
pushed the blankets aside to touch him further. "And someday I will draw
you, and you will see how beautiful you are."

 "Everything is beautiful, when I am in your arms," she said, and
covered his mouth with hers.

*** *** ***

 He left a portfolio on the table for her a few days later. At first she
thought he had left it there by mistake, but then realized, no, he
wanted her to see this. She untied the portfolio and looked through the
pieces of parchment and vellum within.

 He was very good. She knew the subjects at once: Margaret, Kit,
William's steed, Weylin from one of the nearby cliffs, Quaid. And then
herself, a gentle portrait in charcoal. She looked as if she were
daydreaming, her face pensive, a tiny smile on her lips, her hand
pushing through her loosened hair. She looked soft, young, untroubled.
She did look beautiful.

 Katherine smiled. So this was how he saw her. She liked it.
 
She was tying up the portfolio's ribbons when a knock sounded on her
door. "Come, she said, and smiled as Mel Faolon entered the room.
 
"My dear friend," she said, holding out her hands to him. "I have not
seen you for many days. How are you?"

"I am well," he said, frowning. "I have been pondering the situation."
 
Her smile faded, and she dropped her hands, as he had made no move to
take them. "And what have you decided?"
 
"I should leave you."
 
"Mel--"

"I have no place here. Neither you nor William Wolf's Son need me as an
advisor. Perhaps your father could find use for me, or one of your
brothers, or I could go with Anna Rose to her new husband. At any rate,
when John By the Way journeys back to Ireland, I will go with him."
 
"Mel, you do not need to leave us. You know you are welcome here."
 
"I am not so certain. I feel that I have worn out my welcome. William
Wolf's son does not want me here. I grate on his conscience."

 "He does no such thing. He likes you."
 
"He does not deserve you, and he knows it. My presence reminds him that
he has turned a queen into a common strumpet."

 Heat rushed to her cheeks. "How dare you speak to me this way! I find
your censure hypocritical, Mel. And it wounds me deeply."

 He scuffed his foot against the floor and muttered, "I fear for the day
he tires of you."

 Katherine stared at him, and undid the ribbons on William's portfolio.
"I want you to see something." He stepped closer to her, and she brought
out the charcoal portrait William had made of her. By his sharp intake
of breath, Katherine knew he was as moved by it as she had been. "Tell
me," she said quietly, "if you think this could have been drawn by a man
who plans to abandon me."
 
He pushed the drawings aside. "You cannot judge a man's heart by this
kind of frivolity."

 She sighed and closed the portfolio. "Perhaps you ought to leave, if
you are so determined to be unhappy. It wounds me, Mel, that you cannot
rejoice with me, that I have found a place where I am comfortable, and
that I have found a friend in whom I can place my trust."

 "I cannot rejoice in your degradation."

 "I am not degraded. I am happy. I am adored. And there is the way he
treats my son, a child to whom he has no ties, owes no loyalty---but he
loves him, Mel, William loves my baby, and that speaks volumes to me of
his true character."
 
"It is hard not to love a newborn child."
 
"But you have not seen him walk the floor with Quaid nights, when Quaid
was too cranky or ill to sleep. You have not heard William sing to Quaid
and talk to him, as if he were his own son. You were not there, Mel, the
night Quaid was born," Katherine's voice broke and she could not keep
the tears back any longer, "when I was certain one or both of us would
die, and William held me and kept me alive with his strength and his
faith. He does love me," she whispered, the truth of it filling her
heart. "He does love me."

 Mel looked at her, still frowning, but he said quietly, "Perhaps you
are right."

 Katherine wiped her eyes and nodded. "I know what I have seen. I know
what it tells me. This man will never hurt me."

 "So this is how you treat the memory of your lord and husband."
 
Her jaw tightened and she said, "He is dead. I am alive."

 "You always were headstrong," Mel said.

 "So you should not be surprised by my decision."

 "Nonetheless," he said, "I will leave for Ireland with John By the Way.
And when your family asks after you, what shall I tell them?"

 "Tell them the truth," Katherine said, raising her chin, and Mel
sighed.
 
"Yes, my lady." He bowed to her and left the chamber.

 Katherine took several deep breaths and pressed her hands together,
surprised to discover that she was trembling. She wished Quaid were with
her, so she could smell his sweet baby scent and listen to his soothing
babbling. She wished William were with her, so he could hold her and
tell her that Mel was wrong.
 
She closed her eyes and leaned her head on her hands. Following her
heart was harder than she thought it would be.

 But she could not give him up. Not now. Perhaps, not ever.

 ~~Thirteen~~

"May I have a word with you, my lord?" Mel asked, and William was
surprised at how cold he could make the honorific sound, as if it took
all his effort to get the words out.
 
"Of course you may," he said, and dismissed the falconer with a nod.
He and Mel left the falconry together, and their footsteps took them
past the stables towards the kitchen garden.
 
It was very cold out, and half-melted snow lay in patches at the north
sides of the buildings. The path was muddy, and William grimaced as the
cold mud worked its way inside his shoes. "I shall be glad when spring
is here," he said.

 "Because then you will be sending my lady home?" Mel said, and William
looked at him, startled.

 "No, I--I don't think she will be leaving then."

 "Ah. Then you plan to send her home with John By the Way and myself,
when he goes to marry the princess."
 
"No--I am not planning on sending her home at all. I mean, I hope this
is her home now."

 Mel growled, "This is not her home. She has no position in this place.
At least as a servant she would have honorable duties--as it stands she
is little more than a harlot."
 
William stopped walking. "I will not allow you to speak of Katherine
that way. She is an honorable woman."
 
"She was an honorable woman. She was a chaste and virtuous woman.
You bring her here and she becomes reviled, wanton, a Jezebel where she
had always been like unto Rachel or even the Blessed Mother herself. I
don't know what you said to her that convinced her this folly was a wise
decision, but I know it must have convinced the angels themselves, to
turn a God-fearing woman from her beliefs to this--this--disgrace. It is
a disgrace. Her father would kill you if he knew."

 "Katherine made her own decision," William said, trying to keep his
temper. "I neither said nor did anything to lure her against her will."

 "You seduced her."
 
"I will marry her the very hour she agrees to it, if she wishes, but
though I have offered her my hand--my name--my lands--anything she
desires that is in my power to give her--she has refused."
 
"What if you get her with child?" Mel said contemptuously. "Will you be
so adoring then?"
 
William shut his mouth firmly. His feelings on the subject were not
something he wished to share with this man who hated him. He said
finally, "If Katherine gets with child I will be the first to rejoice."
 
"You say that as if you mean it."
 
"I do mean it. I love her. And as much as you dislike me--as much as you
think I am a libertine and a sensualist--that fact remains. I love her.
I will not stop loving her because I am told it is wrong. I will not
stop loving her until the day I die."

 "Pretty words," Mel sneered. "What do you know of love? Of years of
devotion, of watching her grow and learn and suffer and triumph? What do
you know of her soul?"

 "I know it," William said, his voice low. "Perhaps not as long as you,
but just as deeply. Just as fully. Just as she knows me. There is
nothing you can say that will convince me loving her is wrong."

 "You do not deserve her," Mel said.
 
"You're right. I know that well. And I thank God every day that she
deigns to even spend time with me. I have never had a truer friend or a
sweeter companion." He added, "No man deserves the woman he loves.
It is almost inevitable that she outrank him in every aspect: in
character, in virtue, in intellect. Katherine makes me want to be a
better man, in order to deserve her."
 
Mel stared at him, then said quietly, "I truly do not understand you,
William Wolf's Son. If you think so highly of her, why will you not
marry her, at the very least?"

 "I will not force her to take such a step before she is ready or
willing."
 
"I think it would be better for all involved if you convinced her to
return with me. We would not have to mention this--interlude--to her
father."

 "Is she ashamed of me?" William said. "Does she think he would
disapprove of me?"

 "He would disapprove of this arrangement. She says I should tell her
family the truth of why she is staying, but I refuse to ruin her
family's opinion of her that way."
 
"I would hope her family is happy that she is safe and well-protected."

 "I will leave out the details."
 
"I would prefer you honor her wishes and tell them the truth. She is not
ashamed. I am not ashamed--"

"You should be."

 "This is pointless," William exclaimed. "You refuse to believe anything
but the worst about me. You will not be happy for Katherine. You cannot
even admit that we are in love."
 
"You believe you love her. I think even she does not know what she feels
for you. This thing you call love for her is a pale, weak thing compared
to my lord Walter. He gave her everything: his name, his kingdom, his
lands--"

"His bastard son to raise," William said, and Mel's face reddened.

 "Sir, you know nothing of the circumstances--"

"I know that he betrayed their marriage vows. That is enough to condemn
him in my mind."

 "You do not impress upon me that you have a greater moral character."

 "I have never betrayed nor caused another to betray their vows. I
agreed to this arrangement only because she would have me no other way.
I will devote every hour of the rest of my life to her happiness. I will
never harm or dishonor her. Even your own former lord could not say as
much."

 "Do not speak ill of my lord Walter," Mel said from between clenched
teeth.

 "I cannot admire him as you do," William said. "He was not a saint, for
all his goodness."

 "He was a far better man than you," Mel spat. "He was just--he was
kind--he loved Kate from the start--"

"But not until the end, apparently," said William, and Mel made as if he
intended to take a swing at him.
 
But they were not alone, and before Mel could act Katherine was between
them. "My dear friends," she said, taking a gentle hold of Mel's arm.
"May I join you for your walk?"

 "I was just leaving," Mel said, and bowed to Katherine stiffly before
stalking away.

 William bit his lip and waited for Katherine to speak, but she only
sighed and wrapped her shawl more tightly around her. They began to walk
slowly up the path, back towards the buildings of Weylin.
 
Finally he said, "Did you look at my pictures?"

 "I did."

 "What did you think?"
 She smiled, watching the muddy path. "I thought they were lovely. I
like the ones you made of Quaid."

 "I like drawing him. We will want to remember what he looked like as a
baby. I will want to remember," he corrected himself, and Katherine
sighed again.

 "William, come with me," she said, holding out her hand.
 
"Where are we going?"
 
"Somewhere we may speak in peace. Come." Her hand remained patiently
waiting, and he put his own in hers. She led him into the great shed
where raw wool was stored. "I love this place," she said, closing the
door behind them. "Have you ever lain on this pile, William? It's like
lying on a cloud."

 "Not since I was a boy."

 "Come," she said again, and climbed up the ladder to the top of the
pile. After a moment he followed her, and watched with amusement as she
threw herself, laughing, onto the enormous pile of wool. She smiled up
at him and held out her arms. "Join me, William."

 "Yes, madame," he said, and jumped from the top of the ladder onto the
pile. The wool shifted and gave beneath them, but held them comfortably,
softer than a featherbed. He rolled into her arms and lay his head on
her shoulder, and she kissed his hair and stroked his face.

 "I heard a great deal of what you said."

 "Mel hates me," William said. "I am convinced of it. And he loves you
desperately."

 "Don't be absurd. He is protective of me, certainly. But we have known
each other since we were children."

 "All the more reason. He despises me."

 "Don't speak nonsense, my dear. I would like very much if you would not
take seriously what Mel says to you. Perhaps he does dislike you, but .
. ." She paused, and William turned onto his stomach and looked at her,
waiting. She smiled and played her fingers through his hair. "But *I*
like you, William."

 Of course that made him smile, and he kissed her with great tenderness.
"I like you too," he whispered, and her responding sigh was of a
different tenor, a sound which with he was becoming increasing familiar.
It made his smile broaden, and he kissed the base of her neck where it
met her shoulder. "I like you very much," he said in a low voice, and
she gave a responding chuckle.
 
"William, dearest, it's the middle of the day."

 "So it is. And here we are in the wool shed. And I should be tending to
plans for tomorrow's hunt, and you should be . . ."

 "Helping with the laundry."
 
"Helping with the laundry. Yes. Wouldn't you rather sport with me, my
love?"

 Katherine's sea-colored eyes were dark, and filled with such tenderness
that made his heart soar. "Yes," she whispered, slipping her hand into
his hair to cup the back of his head. "Kiss me."

 "Happily," he said, and obeyed her. He was always stunned at the many
tastes he found within her mouth, as if she were formed from the most
exotic sugars and the sweetest of fruits. Roses, he thought as he
pressed his face against her hair, it's the middle of winter and she
still smells of roses.

 She pushed him gently onto his back and moved to kneel over him. He
watched her hungrily as she uncovered her bosom and bared herself to the
waist, and she gently leaned down and teased her breasts against his
lips. She moaned when he captured one dark nipple between his lips and
gave it an insistent tug. He sat up to reach her more easily, and spread
his hands over her arching back to hold her up as he suckled her.
 
Oh, the little sounds she made were enough to drive a man insane.
Sighs and moans and whimpers and his name, spoken with rapture and
desire. Her hips ground against his and she stroked his hair and his
back and his neck, kissing him and biting him gently.

 He looked up at her face and realized there was more to her boldness
than making love here, where they could be so easily discovered. Always
before they had made love in the shelter of darkness, learning each
other by touch and sound and taste rather than sight. She had been shy
about allowing him to see her body.
 
"What is it?" she whispered, cupping his face in her hands. "Is
something wrong?"

 "You're letting me see you," he said. "I can see your face." He ran his
fingers delicately over her shoulder and down her arm. "You're so
pretty, Kate. I've never seen skin such as yours."

 She blushed and said, casting down her eyes, "As long as it is pleasing
to you, my lord."

 He put his finger beneath her chin and gently nudged her face upwards
until their eyes met again. "Everything about you pleases me.
My sweetest, prettiest, most lovely of all Kates."

 Her eyes slipped closed and she tilted back her head, and he leaned
forward to kiss the base of her neck, the dip between her collar bones,
the warm secret valley between her breasts, down her body as she leaned
back to grant him access, until he reached her center, which was warm
and wet and so delicious. She writhed and moaned as he pleasured her,
with her skirts bunched up about her waist and her still--stockinged
legs trembling on either side of his head.

 He lifted his mouth from her and she moaned with despair. "Will . . ."

 "You had started something, dearest, I wonder if you would like to
finish it."

 She gazed at him in bewilderment, then a smile crept over her lips, and
she rose up onto her knees and crawled up his body as he lay back.
"Lazy," she whispered, uncovering his member with gentle hands.

 "Yes." His head fell back and he moaned as she took him into her, and
his hands grasped her hips to pull her down even further. "Oh. Yes. Yes.
Very lazy."

 "Very, very lazy." Her hips began to rock, and their hands clasped and
their fingers intertwined. "Just for that, William, I'm taking my time."

 "As you wish." William gasped, and Katherine bent to crush his mouth
with a kiss. She held his hands down as he had done to her before, and
she smiled wickedly.

 "Do you love me, William?" she whispered. "Do you worship and adore
me?"

 "Yes. Yes."

 "Do you want me to live with you forever?"

 "Yes."

 "And you will never stop loving me?"
 
"Never, Kate. Never."
 
"I believe you," she said, closing her eyes. "I believe you, William."
She began to move faster, and she let go of his hands so that she could
touch his face. He opened his mouth to her fingers and sucked on her
fingertips, and slipped his hands beneath her skirts to cup her bottom.

 "Open your eyes," he begged. "I want to see your eyes, Katie."

 She forced her eyes open as he asked. I could drown in those eyes, he
thought, and pushed himself up and pulled her down to kiss her mouth.
There was no part to her that was not beautiful, inviting, luscious like
the sweetest morsel on a feasting table. And oh, the way she moaned into
his ear and her fingers dug into his shoulders and her body shuddered
and her inner muscles gripped and massaged him--

"Oh, God!" he shouted and thrust up into her, and she groaned in
response and collapsed onto him.

 William wrapped his arms around her sweaty back and ran his hand
lightly over her hair. "I'm not too heavy, am I?" she whispered, and he
chuckled.
 
"Not at all."

 She chuckled as well and they lay there, holding each other.

 "You know," he said eventually, "I've never done anything like this."

 "Oh?"

 "Yes. We could be discovered so easily. I've never taken such a
chance."

 Katherine gave a low laugh, sat up and tossed her hair over her
shoulder. She'd braided the front locks and joined the braid at the back
of her head, but the rest of the golden-red curtain hung loose down her
back. It made her look, William thought, like a maiden fresh from a
cloister. "We could be discovered," she said. "I think that's why I like
it. Oh, William, I want you everywhere. In the woods, in the fields, on
the beach. I want you to take me like a peasant in the open air."

 He moaned at the thought and kissed the fingers she ran over his lips.
She looked like a convent girl, he thought with a smile, but certainly
didn't talk like one. "You've become brave," he said softly, sitting up
to kiss her white shoulders.

 "You make me brave." She made a satisfied sound as he kissed her,
running her hands through his hair. "You make me want to be what I never
dared to be."

 "What is that?"

 "Free," she whispered, and smiled. "Absolutely free."

 He cupped her face in his hand, and she opened her eyes. "Yes," he said
quietly. "I want to set you free." She smiled and kissed him, wrapping
her arms around his neck. "Katherine," he whispered, breaking the kiss
gently, "Katie---if you--if you think it would be better---"

"What is it, dearest?" She stroked the side of his face with gentle
fingers.

 "If you want to go. . ."

 "William," she began.

 "No, I mean it. If you want to go back to your people, if that's what
you need--"

"William. What I need is you." She kissed him again tenderly. "I need
*you,* William." She kissed him again, then again and again, and then
gently began to extricate herself from him. "But Quaid needs me, so I
must go. The milk is coming in."
 
"Ah," William said, and watched her rearrange her clothing until she
looked respectable and dignified again. He sighed. "It's going to be
hours before I can see you again."
 
"Occupy yourself, the time will fly."
 
"I will spend every minute thinking of you."
 
She smiled at him and knelt down to kiss him, and pushed his hair out of
his eyes. "Tonight," she said, and slid down from the pile of raw wool
like a child sliding down a snowy hill.
 
William grinned and dressed himself as well, slid down the pile and
followed her out of the shed.

*** *** ***

 Mel barely said goodbye to Katherine on the dock, and John looked
uncomfortably after him once he'd climbed aboard the ship. "My lady," he
said, "perhaps when he reaches his homeland again--"

She shook her head. "Take him home, John. I think I have lost him as a
friend."

 John's eyes turned sorrowful, and he took her hand gently. "When Anna
Rose and I return, should I call you Mother?" he said, trying to smile.
 
She returned the smile and squeezed his hand. "I would prefer you call
me Kate, as my other friends do," she said gently, and bestowed a kiss
on his cheek. "Take good care of my Anna," she whispered, and he nodded
and kissed her hand.

 "We will return by spring," he said, and boarded the ship.

 "This is becoming a familiar scene," William said as they watched the
ship pull away from the dock.

 "Not much more often, I hope. There is no one else for me to send on."
She gave a choked sort of laugh and said, "The next time I see my
daughter she is going to be a wife. By this time next year I may be a
grandmother. It is very strange, William."

 "I am excited to meet her. John says she is much like you."

 "I feel as if it's been years since I've seen her. And she will bring
news of Harry, I long to hear how he is." She turned to William and put
her arms around his waist. "I hope my family will not be too
disappointed that I have not come."

 "I am certain they miss you. Perhaps we ought to plan a journey for
you, later this year."

 "Perhaps," she said, nodding, and then stood up on her toes to kiss
him. "But not until much later, and not for very long."

 His eyes slipped to half-closed and he said softly, framing her face in
his hands, "No, not for long."

 ~~Fourteen~~

Spring. Spring at last. The sun was warm and the winds were gentle, the
fields were filled with newly budded grains. Lambs, calves, piglets and
colts gamboled in the stable yard. The rains were mild and the fish were
plentiful, and the people of Weylin were content.

 None more than Katherine and William. He brought her the first flowers
of the fields and the first fruits of the orchard. She massaged his sore
muscles and read to him, and tried not to be bashful when he wanted to
draw her. They spent hours outdoors, walking in the nearby woods, and
when they got caught in the rain they ran laughing to the temporary
shelter of trees, and kissed beneath the dripping branches. They played
with Quaid, who could sit up by himself and had started to hitch himself
across the floor towards familiar faces. They sang together and told
stories, played at riddles and spent hours talking of their deepest
dreams and fondest desires. They often slept on the beach beneath the
stars, and held each other tightly on as they slept on the soft blanket.

 William's body was becoming leaner and sunburned brown from his work in
the fields. Katherine loved the taste of his skin when he came in at
evening, of salt and sweat and the outdoors. She loved to join him in
the bath or be joined, to make love in a tub full of warm water scented
with lavender flowers. She loved to turn to him when they slept on the
beach and make love to him in the moonlight. She loved to caress and pet
him, to watch him sleep, to feel his deep chuckle and the eagerness in
his hands when she woke him up with kisses. She felt utterly safe in his
arms, as if no harm could ever touch her again.

 She so wanted to believe that this was true. If it were just a question
of always remaining in the safety of his arms she would never leave
their shelter--but, she often thought wryly, one could not spend every
hour of every day making love, no matter how much one wanted to. And
there were, of course, as always, other considerations.

 Every day she expected news that somehow FitzJames had heard of their
deception and was even now marching against Weylin, or even against her
father. News of visitors sent her heart to pounding with fear until she
heard who the visitors were. And even then she worried, for any of
William's friends could also know FitzJames and let fall a careless word
about his new lady--and a red-haired woman named Katherine, surely he
would suspect . . ?

 William, as far as she could tell, never gave it a thought. It was as
if, to him, there was no reason to fear, and on an almost weekly basis
she vowed to follow his example and not worry so much. But then the
night would come and he would be asleep in her arms, and like goblins
lurking in the corners of her mind the worries would come.

William, bless him, often awoke when her worries were at their worst,
and would kiss her and whisper to her that she had nothing to fear.

And for that moment, she would believe him.

 But as spring advanced it grew more difficult to dwell on dark
thoughts. When the sun was shining gently on her shoulders and warm on
her face, and her baby was playing beside her on the grass, and William
was tracing the petals of a flower over her lips and smiling tenderly,
it seemed there was no evil anywhere in the world. And certainly no evil
that could touch her.

*** *** ***

 It was very late one night in the beginning of May, when they were
awakened by pounding on William's chamber door. William rose from their
bed and pulled on a shirt, and went to answer the door. The noise had
awakened Quaid as well, and Katherine put on a wrap and lifted him from
his cradle to rock him back to sleep.

 It was one of William's yeomen at the door, and the two men spoke in
low voices for a few moments. The yeoman saluted William and left, and
William lit a candle and started to dress more fully.

 "Will? What is it?"

 "Guests have arrived, and I will go to greet them. You might want to
rise as well."

 "Must I?" She grimaced at the thought of greeting more strangers.

He smiled at her as he pulled on his shoes. "Only if you wish to,
dearest. But I think your daughter would like to see a familiar face in
this strange place."

 "Anna Rose? She's here? Why didn't you say so?" She kissed Quaid and
gave him to William, and hastily dressed herself as William dressed
Quaid. They hurried downstairs to greet the new arrivals.

 She recognized John's slim figure at once, but who was this tall
slender woman? "Mother!" she cried, and threw her arms around Katherine
and kissed her.

 "Anna Rose," Katherine whispered, and embraced her daughter tenderly.
When had she changed from a girl to a woman? Had she always been so
beautiful?

 Katherine held out a hand to John, who was smiling tenderly and proudly
at them, and he took her hand gently. "I am so happy to see you. So glad
that at last you have returned--and brought my little girl home to me."

 "It is good to be home," John said, and put his arm around Anna Rose's
waist. "Or nearly home."

 "You will stay with a few days, won't you, before going on?"

 "As long as William will have us," said John.

 "Maybe not that long," Anna Rose said. "I want to see my new home."
She noticed William for the first time, who was standing aside holding
Quaid, and she exclaimed, "Oh, is this my brother?"

 "Mine Anna, this is Quaid," Katherine said, taking the baby from
William's arms. Brother and sister regarded each other for a moment,
then Quaid reached out his hand and Anna Rose took him happily and
kissed him.
 
"He has Father's eyes," she whispered, her own eyes damp, and Katherine
nodded and took William's hand. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand
gently--and Katherine noticed that Anna Rose saw that gesture and smiled
as well.
 
"We have a bed prepared for you," William said. "There's not much
privacy, I'm afraid, but we are rather full right now."
 
"That's all right," John said. "Isn't it, my dear?"
 
"Yes, it's fine." She kissed Quaid's chubby neck again and handed him
back to Katherine. She embraced Katherine for a moment again, and kissed
her once more.

 "We will talk more in the morning," Katherine said, and Anna Rose
nodded, and taking her husband's hand, followed him to bed.
 
When Katherine and William were again in their own bed, he said quietly,
"They do seem happy."
 
"I am glad to see it." She traced lazy circles on William's chest.
 
"I have not seen John so content for many years." His hand began tracing
similar patterns on her back, and she smiled and moved up to kiss his
face.
 
"It would appear marriage agrees with him," she whispered.
 
"It often is an agreeable state," he said. "Are you certain you don't
wish to follow their example?"

Katherine sighed. They had this conversation, or some variation of it,
almost daily as well. She whispered, "Not now, William," and kissed him
until he was trembling and forgot all about questions.

*** *** ***

 Not until after breakfast were Katherine and Anna Rose alone together,
along with Quaid, of course. They climbed the hill above Weylin and
spread a blanket to sit on and for Quaid to play on, and spent several
minutes looking out at the sea, their arms around each other's
shoulders.

 "We first heard you were dead," Anna Rose said quietly. "That FitzJames
had had you whipped, and that you had died from it."

 "He did have me whipped."

 "Oh, Mother." Anna Rose's arm tightened around her.

 "William told FitzJames that I died, and he hid me and took me away."
 
"He seems like a good man, our William."

 "Yes. He is a good man."
 
Anna Rose removed some grass from Quaid's plump fist, and said, "I like
John. From the first moment I saw him, I thought, Here is a man I can
admire. My uncles like him. Grandfather likes him, very much. I am glad
William sent him as a messenger, instead of--I don't know--someone I
would not like so much."

"I am glad too. It was a fortuitous choice. Tell me how Harry is, is he
doing well?"

 "He misses you. He misses Quaid as well, I think he was attached to
him."
 
"They did play together a good deal."

 "He speaks often of getting a piece of land, and raising turnips and
children. That seems to be the extent of his ambition now."
 
Katherine nodded, unsurprised. "And what does my father think of this?"
 
"He accepts it," Anna Rose said with a shrug. "I think he will support
Harry if he ever decides to fight for his birthright, but as long as he
does not wish to, he will not push him."

 "Perhaps we need to recover longer, before we make plans to win back
your father's throne."
 
"Mother . . ."
 
"I will not allow that man to hold onto what belongs to your brother.
And lands that belong to you, as your rightful dowry."
 
"John has never said a word to me about a dowry."

 "He did not ask for one, but Anna Rose, you need a source of your own
income. I hate not having lands of my own. FitzJames took even those."

 "Mother," Anna Rose said hesitantly, "tell me why I was married in such
haste. No one will tell me the full truth."

 Katherine sighed and ran her hand gently over her daughter's dark hair.
"It all goes back to FitzJames, mine Anna. He thought that marrying you
would be a gesture of peace."

 "He wanted to marry me? But he's as old as Grandfather."

 "I know. But it would solidify his claim on the throne."

 "So you married me to John to save me from FitzJames."

 "Essentially."

 "Essentially?"

 "John was not my first thought."
 
"So who was?"
 
"William."

 Anna Rose stared at her, and said, "William? But you and he--I mean,
perhaps I am making assumptions--"

"No. You're not making assumptions. This was before I realized the depth
of his feelings for me, however. It was my suggestion that he marry you
that prompted him to tell me how he feels."

 "He loves you?" Anna Rose said, smiling. "He truly loves you, Mother?"

 "Yes." She could feel herself blushing as if she were a starry-eyed
girl again, and she allowed some of her hair to fall in front of her
face.
 
"I wondered why you didn't return with Mel. To stay here with
William--how romantic, Mother."

 "Oh, I don't know if it's romantic . . . did Mel tell my father why I
stayed?"
 
She stretched out her arms and leaned back on her elbows, and said, "Not
in my hearing. It's rather amusing, actually, how much they sheltered
me, while you and Father always talked about everything before us."

 "Not quite everything," Katherine said.

 "Are you going to tell me now?"
 
"No," Katherine said, shaking her head, and Anna Rose gave a soft laugh.

 "Then at least tell me that William is kind and wonderful as well as
handsome."

 "He is kind. He is wonderful. And he is handsome from his head to his
feet." She smiled as Anna Rose laughed.
 
"As is John," she said, and they both laughed.

*** *** ***

 "He said nothing to you of it?" William shook his head in surprise.
"Nothing at all?" They were walking in the garden. William could see a
bright patch on the hill above, Katherine and Anna Rose talking on the
hillside. It felt good to see them there. Reassuring.

 "Nothing. He was disappointed that Katherine didn't come home, of
course, but he did not ask me why she had stayed. I think the assumption
still was that Quaid is too young still to travel, and she is waiting
for him to be strong enough." John waited for William to respond, and
when he said nothing, he added, "I did not feel it was my place to give
the real reason."

 "That is the real reason. One of them. I'm not sure how I feel about
lying to her family."

 "It isn't lying, don't you think? It's simply not telling them more
than they need to know, especially if it would only upset them."

 "I would rather give them good news, that's true enough." He sighed and
ran his hand through his hair. "Have you heard any news from FitzJames?"

 "Well, the last His Highness heard from him, FitzJames was not pleased
that Anna Rose had refused him, but there was no other news. I am more
surprised that you haven't heard from him."

 "No, I have heard nothing since the fall. But then, that often happens,
I hear nothing for months and then he turns up one morning wanting me to
join him for some campaign or another."

 "You wouldn't go, would you?"

 "No, I wouldn't. Nonetheless, this silence from him worries me. I wish
I knew better what is going on."
 
"Perhaps you ought to send a message to him."
 
"I don't want to attract his attention just now, though."

"So you wait."

 "So I wait."
 
"And what of your lady? You can't just wait until FitzJames appears to
act, you must take precautions to protect her."
 
"But what would you have me do, John? I can think of no action I could
possibly take that would not end in disaster. It is better to just not
draw his attention to Weylin, not until I am ready to face him on a
battelfield. Preferably with help from Katherine's father. Which," he
added, "won't happen if he discovers Katherine and I are lovers."
 
"I don't know," John said thoughtfully. "He might be more understanding.
And he loves his daughter very much."
 
"Nonetheless, I will not send any word until I have good news to give. I
would not expect anything to happen until late summer."

 "Including the marriage?"

 "I don't know if that's ever going to happen." He looked back up at the
bright patch on the hillside.
 
"But if there's a child--"

"I hope there is a child, that may be the only thing to convince her. I
try not to think about the future, it only upsets her. I will act when
the need arises, but until then . . ." He shrugged. "Until then, I live
from day to day. It seems to make her happy, and if she is happy, what
more have I to ask?"

"You're a lucky man," John said.
 
"I hope that luck remains," William answered.

*** *** ***

 It was a good day for a picnic. John and Anna Rose would be going on to
his home the next day, and Katherine wanted to do something to bid them
farewell, even though Anna Rose reminded her they would only be two days
apart. But Katherine got together some cold meat and bread and cheese
and fruit in a basket, and a jug of cold milk and a bottle of ale, and
the five of them went out to the meadow.

 After they had eaten, John dozed off with his head in Anna Rose's lap,
and William amused Quaid while Katherine enjoyed the sunshine, her eyes
closed.

 "You know what strikes me as odd," Anna Rose said.

 "Hm?"

 "How none of us saw this a year ago. None of us thought a year ago that
I would be married or that we would have new friends we never imagined
knowing . . ."

 "No. None of us imagined it." Katherine opened her eyes to look at
William, who was talking seriously to Quaid about which flowers he
should not eat. He glanced at her and winked, and she smiled back and
held out her arms. "Give me that rascal, William."

 "He's putting everything brightly colored into his mouth," he said,
handing over Quaid, who babbled enthusiastically and grabbed a fistful
of Katherine's hair, which went straight into his mouth.

 "Are you eating the daisies, you silly child?" She lifted Quaid up and
rubbed her nose against his, and he laughed, tugging on her hair. "And
are they tasty? As tasty as my hair, it would seem." She gently worked
his chubby fingers open and removed her hair from his grip.

 "I hope my babies are as pretty as Quaid," Anna Rose said softly, and
Katherine smiled at the joyful expression that crossed John's face.

 A thoughtful expression crossed William's, and he lay down on his back
and put his arm over his eyes.

 Katherine did not miss that reaction either, and she mulled over the
suspicion she had been harboring the last few days. Now was not the time
to mention it, however. She wanted to be more certain before she shared
it with anyone.

 So she said merely, "All babies are pretty, mine Anna, especially to
their mothers."

 "We shall have very pretty babies," John said softly, looking at Anna
Rose with great tenderness, and Anna Rose ran her hand through his hair.

 Katherine watched them, pleased. That they were friends was apparent,
and he deferred to her and considered her first in all things. He spoke
to her gently, and did not, Katherine was glad to see, laugh at her as
husbands sometimes did to young wives; nor did he treat her as if she
were too simple or too innocent to fully comprehend his world. He
respected her opinions and her thoughts. And his eyes followed her as
she moved about, with a light that assured Katherine he was as tender
with Anna Rose when they were alone as when they were in company.

 On the whole, she was quite pleased. It had not been an obvious match,
but it was a wise one. Anna Rose had done well.

 As always, her thoughts soon turned to William, who had moved onto his
side and was now tempting Quaid to crawl to him. She released Quaid from
her arms and the baby crawled across the blanket to William and braced
his arms on William's chest in an attempt to stand. William's hand
hovered near Quaid's backside should he fall, and his eyes met
Katherine's and he smiled a tiny bit.

 He has no reason to love this child, Katherine thought as she returned
his smile, yet he does. He had no reason to help me, yet he did. He has
helped my family, he has protected my children, all to great risk to
himself. He has given me shelter and comfort and hope.

 I love him, she thought, and wondered at herself. It did not feel like
a grand revelation--more like something she had known for a while but
refused to acknowledge. But she knew it was true, simply and honestly
true, like knowing the sky is blue and that water is wet. As if the
fates had known on the day of his birth what would please her, he had
been formed sweet and gentle and strong--and handsome, let's not
forget--and she could not stop herself from loving him, she was helpless
in the face of his perfection and even his imperfections.

 Quaid came crawling across the blanket back to her, and looked up at
her inquisitively. "Yes, little one?" she said, taking his hands, and he
stood up on his wobbly plump legs and crowed in delight. "Look at you!
Standing all by yourself. You're getting so good at it."

 "He'll be running around before we know it," William said, and there
was something in his eyes that made Katherine want to cuddle him as she
did Quaid and kiss his sadness away. She reached over towards him and
gently touched the side of his face, and he caught her hand and kissed
it gently. She patted his cheek.

 "When he's strong enough I want you to teach him to ride," she said,
and his eyes lit up. "I want you to teach him everything you know."

 "I think I can do that," he said softly, and Quaid grabbed at his nose.
William laughed and scooped him up, and held him over his chest and
shook him gently. "What are you doing, sweet boy? Hm? Do you need
something to play with?"

 "Mother," Anna Rose said, "are those flags I see approaching?"

 Katherine looked to where she was pointing, and her heart leapt in her
chest. She knew those banners, she had seen them before. She got hastily
to her feet and said, trying to keep her voice from shaking and failing,
"Someone's coming, William."

 He looked too at the approaching banners, and said, "It's Alexander! I
was hoping he would come soon, he said he would. Come, dearest, let's
greet him."

 "I think I need to get Quaid indoors," Katherine said, scooping up her
baby, and she kissed his warm soft head gently. Knowing that it was a
friend did nothing to ease the panic that filled her. "Please give him
my excuses." She hurried towards Weylin with Quaid in her arms, leaving
William stuttering after her in confusion.

 ~~Fifteen~~

William and Alexander embraced warmly as soon as Alexander got down from
his horse. He had brought a large entourage with him, soldiers and
attendants, and William said, "I'm not sure where we're going to put all
your people."

 "They can camp in the fields. We won't be staying for long."

 "Oh?"

 "Yes. Our lord requires your presence, so I have come to fetch you." He
grinned at William's surprise. "Have you forgotten? You promised to
visit him in the spring, and when you didn't come by the first of May we
started to get worried. He sent me to see that you're all right--and
still his loyal follower."

 "Ah," William said. "Well. All in good time." He kept his arm around
Alexander's shoulders as they directed his men to make themselves
comfortable, and then took Alexander inside. "I should like to see
FitzJames but I have so many guests now, I don't like to leave them."

 "They can fend for themselves for a month or so, can't they," Alexander
said, and then fell silent as he caught sight of John and Anna Rose.
William watched the expressions cross Alexander's face, and then
Alexander stepped forward, holding out both hands.

 "John. My friend."

 "Alexander," John said with equal warmth, and they shook hands. "The
winter has been kind to you."

 "To you as well, it appears," Alexander said. "Who is this vision?"

 John laughed, and Anna Rose rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless.
"This is Anna Rose. My wife. The daughter of Walter and Katherine," John
said, and took Anna Rose's hand.

 "My lady," Alexander said, and bowed to her.

"Lord Alexander," Anna Rose said quietly. "It is good to meet you at
last. We will welcome any friend of my mother's to our home, any time
you wish to come."
 Her words were lost on none of them, and William had to wonder at the
flush that crept over Alexander's cheeks. All Alexander said, however,
was "Thank you, good lady," and the couple bowed to him and left--going
towards, William noted, the chamber where he was certain Katherine was
hiding herself.

 Alexander turned to William and said softly, "You have not sent her
home."

 "It was not entirely my choice," William said.

"She chose to stay with you?"

 "Yes."

 Alexander shook his head. "This is very dangerous business. It was one
thing when you were taking pity on her, spiriting her away to prevent
injustice--but William, you must think of your people, of yourself."

 "I do think of my people," William said. "And I do think of myself, but
Katherine comes first."

 "She belongs at her own home. She belongs with her own people."

 "This is her home. We are her people. This is where she wants to be and
I am not going to send her away, Alexander. I want her here."

 "And what are you going to tell FitzJames about your new lady?"

 William often wondered that himself. He said quietly, "I don't know.
Many things have changed since we last spoke, not the least of which is
Katherine's place in my life. But you must understand, there is no one
more important than Katherine and nothing more important than her
happiness. I will do nothing to jeopardize either."

 He could see Alexander turn this over in his mind, and finally
Alexander said, "Very well. It is, of course, your decision, though I
must urge caution. I will return to FitzJames, but I do not know how I
will explain your absence to him."

 "You will not need to. I do want to see him. I want to make a proposal
to him."
 
"What sort of proposal?"

 "I will tell you when I have formed it more fully." He put his arm back
around Alexander's shoulders. "Come, let's go visit Katherine. She will
be glad to see you, I'm certain." He guided Alexander upstairs to the
solarium.

 Katherine had Quaid in her lap, and looked up from playing with him
slowly. William had never seen her look so fearful, but she tried to
smile when they entered the room. She rose, holding Quaid to her
protectively, and all other conversation in the room paused as she
walked towards them.

"My dear," William said gently, "you remember my friend Alexander, don't
you?"
 
"I do. Greetings, my lord. Welcome to Weylin."
 
"My lady." He bowed to her, and she curtseyed in return.

 "Please, join us for a while. Unless you would like to rest from your
journey."

 "I would prefer to rest, my lady," Alexander said, "but I would be
happy to pass time with you later. Excuse me." He bowed to her again,
and said to William, "Where can I lie down for a while, William?"

*** *** ***

 It was not by Katherine's choice that she was alone with Alexander, but
he joined her in her closet uninvited that evening. She greeted him
quietly and went on sewing. Quaid was growing so quickly he needed a new
garment every week, it seemed.

 "Why have you not joined the others downstairs, my lady?" Alexander
said, sitting on the floor at her feet, beside Quaid's cradle.
 
"I did not wish to disturb Quaid's nap. My presence is not required at
all times, at any rate."

 "It denies William the chance to show off before you."

Katherine glanced at him, but his face was smooth and expressionless.
She said, "Why have you not joined them?"

"I dislike games." He slipped a finger into Quaid's tight grasp, and
smiled fondly. "It seems to me William enjoys playing the role of
father."

 "I hope it is more than playing."

"I wonder. Knowing William as I do, of course, I must question how long
his interest will remain."

Katherine lowered her sewing and said as calmly as she could, "My lord,
you obviously have come here to tell me something. I would appreciate it
if you would come out and say it rather than hint around it."

 "Katherine, dear lady, has it ever occurred to you what will become of
you, should anything happen to William?"

"Of course I have. I am not a fool."

 "Alone in the world, no one to protect you . . ."

 "I am hardly alone in the world."

 "But you are far from home. And you only have one friend here--"

"I have many friends," Katherine said coldly, getting to her feet. "What
exactly are you implying here? Are you threatening William?"

 "Why would I threaten my friend?" Alexander said, smiling at her in a
way that brought goosebumps to her arms, and he gracefully stood and
faced her. "I am merely pointing out that a woman in your position can
never have too many friends."

 "What are you suggesting," Katherine whispered, though she knew full
well what he meant.
 
He continued smiling at her, and he said softly, drawing one finger
delicately down her arm, "We are alone, Katherine, and are likely to be
for some time. And you are more beautiful now than you were when we
first met."

 "You're trying to seduce me," Katherine said quietly, "and you're doing
a very bad job."
 
The smile left his face at last, and he said harshly, "Very well, my
lady. Lie with me and I won't tell FitzJames that you still live and
that William has been hiding you."
 
She drew in her breath sharply, and a tremor shook through her. "That is
an insult to me and an insult to my lord. How dare you speak to me this
way--how dare you!"

 "I think you ought to remember your life and his are in my hands. And
what about the little laddie, eh? What happens to him if William dies?
If you die, what happens to the boy?"

 It took all her strength to keep from shaking as she said, "I thought
you were a good man."

 "I'm better than a good man. I'm a smart man. And I know where the
power lies, you should keep that in mind as well. You are not in a
position to negotiate."

 "Touch me and I shall scream," Katherine whispered.

 "They won't hear you above their revels."
 
He was standing too close to her. She could barely breathe. She said,
"Leave this room now. Leave Weylin tomorrow and I won't tell William of
your insolence."
 
In answer Alexander grabbed her by the back of her skull and dragged her
to him, and kissed her--a kiss with no tenderness, no affection, nothing
but the basest kind of desire. Katherine shoved him away, and slapped
him with her open palm. She was trembling as he put his hand to his red
cheek. "Leave," she whispered, and when he did not move she shouted,
"Leave!"

 "Is that your final answer?"
 
"Would a dagger in the ribs be more convincing?"

 He smiled at her again. "Very well, my lady. Very well. Good evening."
He bowed to her mockingly and left her chamber.

 Katherine sank to the floor, her legs no longer able to support her,
and picked up Quaid from his cradle. He gave a startled mewl, but then
settled into sleep again as she rocked him and kissed his sweet-smelling
head and cried.

*** *** ***

 Somewhat disappointed that Katherine had chosen not to join them again,
William went up to his chamber. She had left a candle burning for him
but the chamber was otherwise dark, though he could see the slight rise
of her body beneath the covers. He bent to check on Quaid, and then
undressed and slipped into bed. He embraced Katherine gently and kissed
her bare shoulder.

 She started and drew in her breath sharply, and said, "William?"

 "Of course, dearest. Are you all right?"

 "Yes, I--I'm sorry. I've been having strange dreams." She turned to him
and kissed his mouth gently, and wrapped her arms around him.

 "What sort of dreams?"

 "Dreams I don't understand and don't like." She turned her face up to
him and stroked his chest with her open hand. "Kiss me, William. Kiss
me. Make the bad dreams go away."

 He kissed her and held her to him tightly. "No more bad dreams,
beloved. I've got you. You're safe."

 She tensed, and whispered, "I may be, but you are not."

 "Katie?"

 "William, as long as I am with you, you are not safe. Any threat may
come to you. You cannot trust anyone, not your friends, not the people
who claim to love you--"

"Katie, Katie." He kissed her again. "I am not afraid of any threat that
may come to me. It is only what threats that come to you that frighten
me."

 "That is a careless and reckless way of thinking. William, do something
for me."

 "Name it."

 "Send Alexander and his people away. Do it tomorrow. Please. Send him
away."

 "Dearest, he is one of my oldest friends. We've known each other since
we were children."
 
"He is no friend to you. He loves you not, William. He respects you not.
He--he--" She pressed her face against his shoulder, and he felt
dampness. Tears. He stroked her hair tenderly and kissed her face.

 "Tell me."

 She shook her head. "Please, William. Just send him away."

 "I can't send him away. He will leave soon, but I will go with him."

 "What?" she whispered, horrified.

 "FitzJames requests my presence--I must go, Katie."

 "You owe him no allegiance--tell Alexander to bring him your regrets,
tell him about the treaty with my father--don't go, William, if you go
you will surely never come back."

 "Dearest, I must. I have an idea. I think I can bring peace between
your father and FiztJames. I think I can be a bridge between them. I
think at the very least I can get some of your lands back for Anna Rose.
Perhaps I can do more. After all, despite everything I am still his
heir."

 "I have often wondered at that," she said quietly.

 "I cannot turn myself away entirely. There is too much history."

 For a long time she lay against him in silence as he stroked her hair.
Finally she sighed and said, "You cannot serve two masters, William. It
will tear you apart. You must choose who you will serve, and who will
best serve you. You expect the impossible, wanting to bring peace
between them."

 "I must try."

 "I fear you will die in the attempt."

 "I will always come home to you, Katie."

 Again she sighed, curling herself into a tiny bundle at his side. "I
pray that is so, beloved," she whispered, and while he was stunned at
her use of the endearment she began kissing him, and she took him with a
tenderness and ferocity that left him shaking, but in no doubt about the
depths of her care.

*** *** ***

 William decided to concede to her desires on one point, and even though
Alexander's people were weary he decided to begin their journey back to
Angria by the end of the week. He would take only two of his own men
with him, as well as his squire Kit. "I would prefer to travel quickly,"
he told Alexander, who agreed this was the wisest course.

 Katherine, however, was not so easily convinced. "Two men are not
enough to protect you," she said as she oversaw his packing.

 "Alexander has twenty people. We will be fine."

 "They are Alexander's people, not your own. They will act on his
interests first."

 "And Alexander's interests are my own. Dearest." He caught her hands
and pulled her into his lap, and kissed her frowning lips. "I promise
you, I will be gone from you a month at the most, and I will return hale
and hearty. We will laugh at your fears, my love. You'll see."

 "I hope we will laugh," she said, though there was no laughter in her
face now, and he sighed, wondering how to assure her.

 After a moment he tugged off his heavy signet ring and picked up her
hand. "Katie," he said seriously. "Katherine. Wear this. Think of me
every time you look at it. You are my representative while I am away,
Katherine. You speak for me."

"William," she whispered, her eyes very wide, and he slipped the ring
onto her thumb. The women doing his packing had stopped their gossip,
and watched this action with stunned expressions.

 "You are all witnesses," he said to them, and was pleased to see that
Margaret was smiling. He raised Katherine's hand to his mouth and kissed
it, and said to her, "There. Take care of things until I return."

 "I will," she whispered, and her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears.

 He decided it was time to try something he'd been working on a while,
and he said softly, "Taim i' ngra leat, Katie."

 Her smile made the late nights and frustrations worthwhile, and she
kissed him. "When I return," he said, "we will continue the lessons. And
we will talk to each other in your language."

 "I taught it to my children," she whispered, "and of course I spoke it
with Mel, but no one else has ever wanted to--not even Walter--"

"It's only fair," he said. "You speak my language so well, better than
I. I thought at the very least I could learn to speak yours."

 "We will have much to discuss when you return," she said, and leaned
her cheek against his.

*** *** ***

 At last the morning of departure came, and Katherine stood shivering in
the morning light as last-minute preparations were completed. "I shall
miss you terribly," she said, holding William's hand, her eyes downcast.
"It has been so long since we've been apart."

 He kissed the hand that wore his ring, and said, "The days will fly. I
will be home before you start to miss me."

 "I miss you already." The eyes that she raised to look at him were
filled with pain and tenderness, and he touched her cheek.

 "I will hurry home to you. Kit will take good care of me," he added
more lightly, "won't you, son?"

 "Of course, my lord," the boy said, struggling mightily not to yawn.
"Do you have any instructions for me, my lady?"

 "Only to take care of my lord. Make certain he comes home to me."

 "Of course, my lady."

 "Come," Alexander cried, swinging up onto his mount. "The journey is
long and the day is wasting, William!"

 "One moment," William said, and turned back to Katherine. "I must go."

 "I have something for you." She took a tiny object from within the
bosom of her gown, and handed it to him. It was a lock of her hair,
braided and tied at both ends with a bit of ribbon. "I know it is only
an old wives' tale," she said, "but they say it will keep you safe, as
long as you keep it on your body."

 "I will wear it always," he said, tucking the lock within his shirt,
and kissed her one more time. He mounted his horse, and followed
Alexander and the rest of the company out of the environs of Weylin.

*** *** ***

 They had been on the journey many days, and William could not sleep. He
was used to this, for his longing for Katherine was very great.

Nonetheless, something felt different about this night. Something felt .
. . wrong.

 The fire had burned low when he heard the movement, like several men
trying to walk softly. His eyes snapped open and he looked around the
dark forest, and reached slowly for his sword. If they were about to be
set upon by thieves he would not be caught unprepared.

 One of his knights, Stephen, had volunteered for the watch, and William
caught sight of his familiar form. "Stephen?" No answer. He rose from
his bedroll and went to him, and touched his shoulder.
"Stephen, are you asleep?"

 He watched in dismay as Stephen's body toppled from where it was
propped against a tree trunk. The handle of a dagger still protruded
from his chest, which was sticky with blood. "Oh, God," William
whispered, and lowered Stephen's body carefully to the ground. He went
to his other man, Daniel, and found him in the same state, a dagger in
his ribs. "Oh, God," he whispered again, and shook Kit, fearing the
worst.

 The boy opened his eyes and blinked at him in confusion. "My lord?"

 "Stephen and Daniel are dead, and I don't know where the other men have
gone. Dress, Kit, and prepare to flee." He began to dress himself, his
hands shaking. Kit stared at him for a moment, then hastily followed
him.

 "Dead, my lord?" he whispered.

 "Dead. Oh, God, where are the others?" He found the lock of Katherine's
hair, and kissed it gently before tucking it into his shirt. I will come
home to you, he thought. I will come home.

"Prepare the horses," he said to Kit, and the boy ran to obey him.

 There were footsteps all around him, and he struggled to see their
attackers in the blackness. "I'm armed," he announced, clutching his
sword, but still there was barely a sound beyond that of men moving.

They were close to him--so close--

"Run, Kit!" he screamed, as two pairs of arms gripped him and a third
pummeled into his chest and belly. "Run!" He heard hoofbeats and the
sound of pursuit, and he could only pray the boy had gotten away, before
the pain became overwhelming and the night swallowed him.

 ~~Sixteen~~

The days were impossibly long without William. Actually, the days were
tolerable--she had companions and occupations, and the days passed
peacefully enough.

The nights were the problem. She missed him terribly. Their bed seemed
vast and lonely, and she took to bringing Quaid to bed with her for
company. Being able to smell his head and caress his plump arms and legs
when she couldn't sleep was infinitely comforting. Or she lay on her
back and put her hand on her belly, and wondered if what she suspected
was true or only a wish. She would know, by the time he returned.

 She wrote to William, little notes that she knew he would never read.
But there was so much he would want to know when he returned, and she
wanted to remember everything.

 "Quaid has discovered a new game, that if he crawls away quickly we
will chase him. He laughs as he crawls away, and he laughs when we catch
him. Margaret worries he will get into mischief before we can catch him,
but he never goes towards anything dangerous. He runs away because he
wants us to bring him back."

 "Mark and Milly are so sweetly happy. He is tender with her, which
makes me glad. Young love does my heart good, but seeing them happy
together makes me miss you even more."

 "I think Quaid is starting to learn our names. He has invented names
for us, at any rate. Edith is 'eeeee.' Milly, Margaret and I are
'mamamamam,' but he says it differently when he wants to go from Milly
to Margaret or from Margaret to me. I also know that he looks for you,
and is puzzled that you are not here. I hope he will remember you."

 "I miss you, dearest. I miss the touch of your hand and the kiss of
your lips. I miss you every day and every night. I want nothing more
than for you to come home to me. Come home, William. Come home quickly."
 
Even though she knew it was too soon to start watching for his return,
every day, around sunset, she would climb to the top of the tower and
watch for approaching banners. No one came.

*** *** ***

 Katherine jerked awake suddenly, and Quaid, asleep in her arms, began
to cry. "Shh, shh," she whispered softly, cradling him to her bosom, and
she kissed him and soothed him until he was sleep.

 Her heart had not stopped pounding from the nightmare that awoke her.
Her hands were shaking so badly she didn't dare carry the baby around,
and she tucked him carefully under a blanket and kissed him, and paced
about the room, shoving her hands through her hair.

 The dream was too real. Too detailed. She could taste the blood in her
mouth, feel the pain in her ribs and her belly, feel his fear as the
strange men hurt him--

"Oh, God," she whispered, and fell to her knees. She clasped her hands
together and tried to speak, but her throat was closed with tears.
"God," she whispered, "God." She rocked back and forth on her knees,
pressing her clasped hands to her breast.

 What was happening to her beloved? Who were these men? Why were they
hurting him? She hated feeling so helpless, not knowing if it were true
or merely a dream--oh, God, and if it were true--

Enough of this helpless weeping. She wiped her face with determination
and dressed herself and Quaid, and went down to the main room where
William's men slept. She went to his captain, Henry, and gently shook
him awake. "My lady?" he said sleepily.

 "Henry, I want you to choose ten of your best men. We are going to
Angria."

 "Now?"

 "As soon as we are ready. Before sunrise, I would prefer."

 "But what is wrong?"

 "We have to bring my lord home. We have to go now. Please, Henry, don't
question me, just do it."

 "But, my lady--"

"Please, Henry. His life depends on our speed."

 He looked at her, puzzling, for a moment, then said, "Will you also be
coming, my lady?"

 "Yes. Myself and the baby. A minimal accompaniment, Henry, we must be
going quickly. I'll wake Margaret."
 
He was already up and dressing himself. "We'll be ready by sunrise, my
lady. Make your preparations."

 "Thank you, Henry." She thought, as she hurried to find Margaret, Hold
on, my love, hold on. We're coming for you.

*** *** ***

 They had tied his hands together, and then tied him to one of their
horses and forced him to run behind. They gave him nothing to eat and
only drips of water to drink. He could not see out of his swollen eyes,
but he knew their voices.

 When they stopped for the night he fell to the ground and lay there,
unmoving. He heard someone approach him, and the person knelt down
beside him and untied his wrists from the rope that bound him to the
horse. William opened one eye as far as it would, and rasped, "Why?"

 Alexander's face was cold. "Because you are a fool, and I intend to
make FitzJames see it. You had everything, William, everything you could
ask for, and you throw it over for a woman. Granted, she is the most
beautiful women in the world, but she is still no reason to give up your
inheritance."

 "You would kill me for her," William said.

 "Not just her. For Angria. For Britain. FitzJames will make me his heir
out of gratitude, and when you are dead I will take the fair Katherine
for my own." He finished tightening the rope around William's ankles
with a ferocious tug, and William groaned. "What do you think of that,
William? And someday our son will sit on the throne of a united
Britain."

 "If I don't kill you she will," William said, and Alexander slapped
him.

 "You're not in a position to make threats, William. I am the closest
thing you have to a friend."

 Had there been any moisture left in his mouth, he would have spat in
Alexander's face. As it was, he grimaced at him and turned his face
away.

 "Sleep well, my friend," Alexander said. "Tomorrow we reach the castle
of FitzJames." He waited for William to respond, but then finally sighed
and stood up. He ordered one of his men to give William some water, and
William drank eagerly from the dipper when at last it was held to his
mouth.

 How could he have done this, to his friend, his childhood companion?

Katherine would never allow Alexander to touch her, much less conceive a
child with her. She did not feel her beauty was worth going to war
over--she would hate that Alexander killed to possess her. She would
hate *him,* if she didn't already.

 Oh, Katie, he thought with despair, I should have listened to you. I
should have sent him far away and stayed with you, FitzJames be damned.
I could be with you right now, holding you in my arms, loving
you--instead of wondering if I will live long enough to see your sweet
face once more--

He ached with the need to cry, but there was no water left in him.

And when he slept it brought him no peace.

*** *** ***

 Quaid did not like traveling. He did not like the heat, the dust, or
the rough roads. Katherine knew he really was too young to make this
journey, but she did not dare to leave him behind when he was so
dependent on her. Neither did she dare stay behind herself--if her
premonition came to nothing she would have to explain their presence
somehow.

 She did not know how she was going to explain their presence, at any
rate. She could not walk into FitzJames's court as if it were her own,
just to be sure William was unharmed.

 Well, she would deal with it as circumstances arose. First she had to
find William.

 They had been on the road for three hard days, and they stopped at
sunset to make camp. She walked about the clearing they had chosen,
murmuring to Quaid and stroking his back to soothe him, when she became
aware of the sound of hoofbeats. She drew in her breath and moved
towards the road, to see who was coming so quickly. Behind her, she
sensed Henry drawing near, and she was reassured by his presence.

 It was a lone rider, on a mount she recognized, and she cried, "Kit!"
as the horse tore past her.
 
"Whoa!" the rider cried, and reined the horse to a stop. "My lady!"

He all but fell of the horse as he dismounted, and he stumbled to her
and fell at her feet. "My lady--thieves--my lord--all dead--"

"Kit, Kit, slow down." She knelt down, shifting Quaid to one arm, and
put her other arm around Kit's shoulders. "What has happened?"

 "We were attacked, my lady--Stephen and Daniel were killed--" He drew
in a hitching breath. "They attacked my lord--he told me to run--I
should not have left him--"

"No, you did right, Kit. You can help us find him."
 "But my lady, what if he's dead?" He looked up at her with a dirty,
tear--stained face.

 "I'd know if he were," she whispered, stroking his cheek. "Come, Kit, I
know you are tired but we must go back. For my lord's sake."

 He nodded, gulping. "For my lord."

 One of the soldiers had been inspecting Kit's horse, and he said, "My
lady, this mount can go no further, it's worn out."

 "We can go nowhere tonight," she said. "We shall have to see how it is
doing in the morning."

 "My lady," Henry said hesitantly, "I have an idea, if you are not
opposed."

 "Tell me."

 "Perhaps three of us could go on with Kit, and discover what happened
to my lord. The rest of you could wait until we are more certain of
news."

 Katherine looked from his face to Kit's, and released a slow breath.
"Very well. And I will be one of the party."

 "But, my lady, with the baby--"

"I must know," she whispered. "I must know what has happened to him."

 He nodded slowly. "Very well. Myself, my lady, Kit and Robert. The rest
of you will follow on in the morning."

 Katherine put Quaid back into his sling and adjusted the sling on her
back. He protested sleepily, and she said to him, "I'm sorry, sweetest,
but we have to go on." She mounted her own horse carefully, and watched
as a weary Kit swung onto a fresh mount, joined soon by Henry and
Robert.

 "My lady?" Henry said to her.

 "I'm ready."

 "We go, then." He dug his heels into his horse's side, and they
galloped onto the road, in the direction from which Kit had come.

*** *** ***

 The last time he had seen the castle of Walter the Bald, it had been
beautiful despite the siege they had lain upon it, its dark granite
walls clean, its flags proudly flying. It was comforting, somehow, even
though at the time it had belonged to an enemy.

 Even though FitzJames had made improvements in the foreign
style--filling in the moat, rising a wall around the perimeter, adding
more towers--the castle was neither beautiful nor comforting to
William's eyes. It filled him with a sense of dread--the simple,
unshakable knowledge that he was going to die here.

 Alexander turned around in his saddle and grinned at William. "All this
could have been yours," he said, and William lowered his aching head.

 God help you, Katie, he thought, and stumbled along behind the horse he
was still tied to.

 FitzJames himself was waiting for them in the courtyard. "What is the
meaning of this?" he said at the sight of William. "Why have you made
William your prisoner, Alexander?"

 "My liege." Alexander dismounted and went to FitzJames, knelt and
kissed his hand. "I have brought you William as a prisoner of war. He
has betrayed you, my lord, and lied to you, and I have brought him here
as punishment for his treachery."

 "What treachery?" FitzJames's voice was low as he stepped closer to the
dirty, bleeding William. "What have you done, William?"

 "Katherine of Ireland is not dead," said Alexander, and FitzJames's
head whipped around to stare at him, hard. Alexander went on rapidly,
"She was taken from your camp and hidden at Weylin these past nine
months. William made an offer of allegiance to Carrick of Ireland,
arranged the marriage of Anna Rose to his own man, John By the Way,
sheltered Walter's eldest son, and has these past several months lived
in sin with Katherine herself."

 FitzJames looked at William with a face full of sorrow. He whispered,
"Is this true?"

 "It is true," William said, and FitzJames closed his eyes.

 "My son," he whispered. Even Alexander was silent, waiting for
FitzJames's reaction.
 
At last FitzJames opened his eyes again. He said, in his customary tone
of command, "You have betrayed me, William. You have betrayed the
promises your father made to me. I am . . . I am disgusted. I am
appalled. How could you have done this? How could you have sheltered my
enemy?"

 "You saw an enemy," William said hoarsely. "I saw a woman in need. I
acted accordingly."

 FitzJames shoved his face into William's and spat, "She was to have
been mine! She *was* mine, to do with as I pleased. And it was my
pleasure that she live out her days here, in humiliation, knowing always
that she could have been my queen. How could you disobey me this way,
William? How could you do this to me?"

 "Because I could not allow you to do that to her," William said, and
jerked as FitzJames slapped him across the mouth.

 "Could not allow! Your lord, your liege, your master! My word is law!"

 "You do not rule me," William whispered, unable to make his voice any
louder, and FitzJames slapped him again.

 "You are a fool. You are a bigger fool than I ever suspected. You
disappoint me, William. You are the only one I never expected to
disappoint me." He straightened and said, his voice carrying across the
courtyard, "We will teach William Wolf's Son a lesson. I order him put
in my latest importation from our Gallic friends. I order him put in the
oubliette."

 Two soldiers lifted William by his arms and carried him across the
courtyard and out of the castle proper. William let his feet drag, too
tired to walk on his own. He'd never heard the word oubliette before and
he had no French, but he guessed from the reaction of FitzJames's people
that this was not going to be an ordinary means of torture. Would it
tear his limbs apart? Puncture his lungs? Crush him, burn him, tear out
his eyes?

 Far in the back of the yards, beyond the stables, the falconry, and the
gardens, one soldier lifted the lid of a small hole in the ground, and
he and the other dropped William into it. It was a short drop, less than
his height, but still he groaned when his feet hit the floor. The walls
were smooth, packed dirt, painted with lime. He looked up at the tiny
circle of sky, and then the soldiers dropped the wooden lid back on. He
heard the sound of a lock clicking closed.

 And then he realized what his torture was to be.

 ~~Seventeen~~

"It was here," Kit said, turning around from where he had been
inspecting the ground. "It was here, I am certain of it."

 "I would say these are graves," Henry said, kneeling beside two places
where the earth had obviously been recently disturbed. "Poor Stephen.
Poor Daniel. They deserved better than this."

 "But only two graves," Katherine murmured, and Henry glanced up at her.

 "Yes, my lady. Only two."

 "Then he is still alive. We have to discover who attacked him, and
where they took him." Alive. She was certain of it. She would know if
more happened to him, but he was alive.

 "My lady," Kit said timidly, "I have a thought. I think--perhaps this
is presumptuous of me--"

"What is it, Kit?"

 "I think it was my lord Alexander. I think it was his people."

 "Alexander," Katherine whispered.

 Kit said quickly, "At first I thought they had deserted us, but my
lady, it is the only thing that makes sense. They attacked us. They
killed Stephen and Daniel. And now they have my lord and they are taking
him to FitzJames and perhaps they will kill him, my lady, I am so
afraid!" The boy was trembling, and Katherine put her arm around him.

 "Sh, dear. We'll find him."

 "My lady," Henry said, "we are eleven men, a boy, and you, with a
child. We cannot go against FitzJames, with his fifty knights in a
stronghold."

 "I lived in that stronghold for twenty years, I know it inside and
out."

 "Do you know how to find my lord? And how to get him out?"

 She looked away from his steely glare, and said, "No, but what else do
you propose? We cannot wait for more men to come."

 Henry shook his head slowly. "I don't know how we are going to do this,
my lady. I don't want to desert my lord, but it seems hopeless."

 "There is hope," Katherine whispered. "There is always hope. We must go
on."

 Henry sighed and nodded. "Very well, my lady. We go on."

*** *** ***

 The oubliette was not high enough for William to stand up completely,
and was too narrow for him to sit. He stooped or crouched, or tried to
find a way to lean against the whitewashed wall. His knees throbbed with
the pain of these positions, and his legs and shoulders ached. On top of
that were the pain from his wounds from the beating Alexander's men had
given him, as well as hunger and thirst. The tiny chamber was stifling
as the sun beat down upon the wooden cover.

 He knew he would be dead by the time Kit reached Weylin. Hunger would
kill him if the thirst and heat didn't first.

 He held the tiny braid of Katherine's hair, still miraculously in his
possession, and daydreamed of her. The scent of her hair. The taste of
her skin. The tenderness in her touch. The warmth in her voice as she
spoke his name. How she would drape herself over him to warm him on cold
nights. How she would sing softly into his ear when he couldn't sleep.
Her sweet kisses. Her small jokes, her warm smile, her rich laughter.

 It was nice to dream, Katie, he thought. But we were children trusting
in tales to think a bit of your hair would keep me safe from harm. I
should have listened to you. I should have told Alexander to take my
regrets to FitzJames, and dealt with the consequences.

 He took comfort in the knowledge that his friends would take care of
her. And that even for so short a time, he had made her happy, filled
her life with pleasure and joy.

 We could have lived, he thought, we could have lived so happily. There
might have been so many years together, children if you wanted them,
anything you could have asked for.

 "I should have listened to you. I have wronged you, Katie," he
whispered, and prayed that somehow she would hear.

*** *** ***

 The castle of Walter the Bald sat on a hilltop, looking over a broad
valley. On one of the hills on the opposite side of the valley was a
small glade, from which one had a perfect view of the valley and the
castle and its environs. The valley was recovering from the battles the
summer before, golden and green with crops. The castle was much the same
as it had been, grey and ivy-covered and majestic and very dear.

 Katherine did not know what she expected to feel when she again saw the
walls of her former home. The sight caused her throat to close up and
her eyes to sting, and Henry said gently, "My lady, are you all right?"

 "I'm all right," she said softly, and decided not to whisper to Quaid
that this was his ancestral home. He would not remember it at any rate.

 "What do we do, my lady?" Robert said, concern etched on his face.

 Katherine shook her head. "I don't know. We wait. We look around. We
discover things."

 "We are not here on a pleasure trip," one of the other men said
shortly, and Henry growled at him.

 Katherine arched her eyebrow at them both and said demurely, "I am
aware of our purpose. However, we have no plan, no forces, and we don't
even know where William is."

 "I meant no disrespect," the soldier said softly.

 Henry slid from his horse. "I suggest we set up camp and make our
plans."

 Katherine looked at the castle once more, and shut her eyes for a
moment. "My lady," Henry said again, softly.

 "I am rather disturbed to discover," Katherine said, "that I do not
remember where we buried my husband. We left his grave unmarked, so that
it would be unmolested."

 "That was a wise decision, my lady."

 "I hope so. But . . . where did we bury him? I don't remember. I hardly
remember that day at all." She smiled at Henry uncertainly. "I'm sorry.
I have missed my home."

 "I understand, my lady." He gripped her around her waist to help her
down, and gave an affectionate pass over Quaid's head. "We shall camp
here," he said to his men, "and make my lady as comfortable as
possible."

Katherine smiled her thanks at him, and went to the side of the clearing
to wait for them to make the camp up. She took Quaid out of the sling
and held him so he could move his arms and legs around, and he grunted
and fidgeted and blew on his lips to make spitting noises.
"Don't like traveling, do you, my love?" she said to him, and he grabbed
one of the ties of her cloak and stuffed it into his mouth. She laughed
softly and kissed him, and worked it gently from his grip.

 All the while she watched the castle, wondering if there was anything
they could do or if they could only wait.
 
*** *** ***

Darkness. Nightfall. William ran his tongue over his dry lips, took a
deep breath, and shoved as hard as he could at the wooden cover to the
pit. He shoved and rattled and pushed with all his remaining strength.
 
Nothing. It didn't budge an inch. He didn't know what was holding it
down, but there was no way he could break through the solid oak. The lid
fit tightly into the top of the pit, allowing only air and a sliver of
light to get through.

 William put his hand under that sliver of light and turned his hand so
that the light played over it. "God," he said softly, "I have tried all
my life to do right. I have tried to keep my vows, honor my obligations.
To help those in need, to love those who love me. I do not want to give
up. I want to live, I want to love my Katie. God, please. If there is a
way . . . I want to go home." He closed his eyes, to dried out even to
shed tears.

Nothing. He was not surprised.

 So he was going to die here. Forgotten in this place. And those who
loved him would never know what had happened--Katherine would always
wonder--oh, his poor darling--

He heard grinding above his head, and his eyes widened. The sound of the
lock coming undone was unmistakable, and he shrank back, wondering what
further torment was in store.

 The cover lifted and at first all he could see was a light above his
head. It came into focus and he realized it was a torch, and there was a
hand extended down into the pit. "William," a voice said firmly, and
kindly. "William, take my hand."

 "Who . . ?" he croaked, and clasped the hand tightly in his.

 With difficulty, the man hauled him out of the pit and for a moment
William lay on the ground, gulping in the fresh cool night air. He
looked up at his rescuer, who was kneeling on the ground beside him.

"I have water for you, William," he said, and William rolled onto his
side and squinted at him.

 "Harry. It is Harry, isn't it?"

 Harry smiled at him and held out the wineskin. "Drink up, William. We
have far to go and we must leave before anyone notices we're gone."

 William took the skin and sat up, and took a long drink of water.
"Harry. How did you get here? Why are you here? Katherine said nothing
to me--"

"Mother doesn't know," Harry said. "Grandfather wanted a spy here and I
thought it would be best if it were me. Can you walk, William?"

 "I think so. Your mother is going to be furious when she learns of
this."

 "I think she will be so glad to see you, she won't have time to get
angry with me." He stood, and held out his hand to William again. "Come.
I have food and clothes hidden in a cart. I shall have to hide you under
the straw."

 "I don't mind at all." He took Harry's hand and got laboriously to his
feet. He felt dizzy for a moment and had to lean on Harry for support.
"No one has recognized you? You have been safe here?"

 "No one knows me. I gave them a false name and I grew a beard." He
rubbed his chin, which was indeed sporting a short, dark beard. It made
his boyish face look much more mature and lean.

 "Your mother isn't going to like that either. You look like a
Northman."

 "I'll shave it. Eventually."

 They made their way quietly in the predawn darkness to the stable, and
Harry put the torch into a holder nailed to the wall. He moved aside
some straw in a cart to reveal a basket with bread and cheese, and
clothing for William to change for his tattered rags. William cleaned
himself off in the water trough first, washing off the blood and grime
that had coated him for the last four days.

 "William, we must be going," Harry reminded him, and William dried
himself off and got dressed. He climbed into the cart and tore open the
loaf of bread, and devoured half of it in a few bites.

 "Won't they question you, Harry, at the gate? Or have you integrated
yourself so fully here they'll let you pass?"

 "They'll let me pass. One of my duties here is disposal of the
garbage." Harry grimaced, an odd expression for his young face. "I won't
bury you under the garbage, however--I'll say it's dirty straw I'm
taking to the dump."

 "And then what?"

 Harry shrugged. "I take you home. It will be good to see Mother again.
And I'll be glad to be gone from this place. There are many good
memories here, but . . ." He shook his head. "They are all gone now."

 William lay down on the straw and closed his eyes. Harry covered him
over with more straw, and in a moment he heard Harry climb up onto the
cart and whistle to the horse.

 The cart started up with creaking wheels. William lay under the straw,
listening, but soon the steady movement of the cart soothed him, and he
closed his eyes and slept.

 He awoke abruptly, and lay tensely, uncertain of where he was. He
didn't dare brush the straw from his face, for fear they had been
stopped by FitzJames's people, and he clenched his fists, ready to fight
whatever threat they were to face.

 "William?" The straw above him moved aside, and he looked up at Harry.
"Are you awake?"

 "What is going on?"

 "I have brought up to a safe place I know of--but there are others
there, and I am uncertain of to what to do."

 "Where are we?" He sat up, groaning at the aches in his body, and
looked around the dark forest that surrounded them.

 "The other side of the valley. My--" he pause, cleared his throat, and
said, "My father used to bring me here, on the hunt. You can see all of
the valley from that clearing there." He pointed, and William looked, to
where he could see a dying fire and horses, and men asleep on the
ground. "I suppose it is possible FitzJames's people know about it, but
I never heard it mentioned. Perhaps they are strangers. Nonetheless, I
was going to spend the rest of the night here and go on in the morning,
but I don't know what to do with them there. We need to rest before
dawn."

 "You know of no other place to stop?"

 "Not for many miles, not as secluded as this."

 "Perhaps I could drive for a while."

 "William," Harry said with some exasperation, "I grew up here, I know
this area for miles around. I know where to hide. You have been here
once, and you are ill. I shall find us a place."

 William opened his mouth to argue, when the silence of the night was
broken by the sweetest sound William could hope to hear: a baby crying.
They both started, and William clambered down from the cart. "It's
Quaid--that's Katherine there!"

 "Can you be certain?"

 "I know his cry," William said, and stumbled towards the dying embers.
Yes, there near the fire was the unmistakable figure of a woman soothing
a child. "Katherine," William said hoarsely as he went to her, and her
face in the firelight was at once amazed and joyful.
She got to her feet just as he fell against her, and she supported him
as he held her and kissed her again and again.

 "William," she said simply, returning kiss for kiss. "My dear."

 Men moved all about them, exclaiming and asking questions, and soon he
heard Harry's voice explaining how they had come here and all that had
happened, but for himself all he could say was, "Katherine.
Katherine."

 ~~Eighteen~~

They could not afford wait, despite William's weakened condition, and as
soon as the sun was up they packed up their camp and headed back towards
Weylin. Katherine stayed in the cart with William and Quaid, and the
soft straw was a relief after riding horseback for so many days. She
held William so that his head was in her lap, and he slept soundly
despite their jolting mode of transportation.

 When he had come stumbling out of the woods, for a moment Katherine had
tho