"Not entirely yours, I hope!" He laughed then, and after a pause, she laughed, too.

JOANNA slept till midmorning, awakening, bewildered, in a huge curtained bed as soft as a cloud. There was a fox-fur coverlet pulled up over her, and at the foot of the bed lay the most beautiful clothes she'd ever seen: a linen chemise, an emerald wool gown, and a bliaut over-tunic of green and gold. But her own gown was nowhere in sight.

Wrapping herself in the fur coverlet, she moved cautiously from the bed, began to search the chamber for her clothes. Never had she been in a room like this.

The walls were covered with linen hangings, glowing with color. Thickly laid floor rushes, intermingled with sweet-smelling basil and mint, tickled the soles of her feet. There was a table covered with a clean white cloth, an enormous oaken coffer, even a large brass chamber pot.

Joanna was at a loss. But she was remembering more now, remembered being bathed and put to bed, remembered a man with a reassuring smile, green-gold eyes, and the beautiful, unfriendly woman he91 lied Adele. She remembered, too, how, when she'd awakened in the 'eht not knowing where she was, he'd taken her into bed with him nd Adele; nestled between them, she'd soon slept again, feeling safe for the first time since her mother died.

The door opened; Adele entered. "Well, you're up at last. John's awaiting you in the great hall, so hurry and dress."

"My clothes are gone," Joanna said reluctantly, suddenly afraid that she'd be blamed for their loss.

"They're right there on the bed." Adele pointed impatiently when Joanna merely looked at her, uncomprehending. And only then did Joanna reach out, timidly touch the soft lace edging the chemise, not truly convinced such clothes could be hers until Adele snapped, much as her mother had so often done, "Are you going to tarry all day? Put them on."

Following Adele down the winding stairwell, Joanna discovered it led to a great hall, much like the one at Middleham. Dogs were rooting in the floor rushes for bones; servants were carrying platters of food; men seated at long trestle tables laughed and joked as they ate, the overall atmosphere one of cheerful chaos. Joanna hesitated, daunted by the sight of so many people, but Adele pushed her forward, into the hall. "Go on in. Would you keep him waiting?"

At the end of the hall a dais had been set up, and Joanna recognized the man who'd been so kind to her the night before. She was gathering up her courage to approach him when he beckoned to her. She came at once, realizing, with a jolt of astonished happiness, that he was as glad to see her as she was to see him. Within moments she found herself seated beside him, being urged to share the food ladled onto his trencher. She was dazzled both by the size of the portions and the amazing variety: roasted venison, lampreys in sauce, a rissole of beef marrow, pea soup, glazed wafers, pancake crisps, and a sweet spiced wine he called hippocras.

John let her sip from his cup, named each food for hereven let her choose for herself which dishes she wanted to try, and by the end of the meal, Joanna was utterly captivated by him. He had a low, pleasant voice, never raised it, and yet was obeyed with celerity. It was obvious to Joanna that he was a man of importance. That made it all the more wondrous that he should take such an interest in her. She watched him closely, eating what he ate, and laughing when he did, so intent she did not at first notice what would normally have claimed all her attention, the small spaniel puppy being led toward the dais.

"You said your mother would allow you no dog, Joanna. Well, I will," John said, depositing the squirming spaniel in her lap. He heard her catch her breath; she looked up at him with eyes so adoring that he92 laughed. "I think you shall be cheaper to content than the other women in my life; they yearn for pearls and silks, not puppies."

"For me? Truly for me?" The puppy was a soft silver grey; it wriggled as Joanna ruffled its fur, swiped at her fingers with its tongue.

"Have you a name in mind, Joanna?" When she shook her head, John smiled. "I've one for you, then. Why not call her Avisa?"

Joanna thought that a very pretty name, wondered why so many of the men laughed. One, wearing a priest's cassock, said, "Despite your differences, the Lady Avisa is still your wife, my lord, in the eyes of both man and God."

"And precisely because she is, Father, I can say for certes that Avisa is an uncommonly apt name for a bitch," John said dryly, and again those around the dais laughed.

Joanna did not understand this byplay, but she reached out, shyly stroked John's sleeve. "I do like Avisa for the puppy," she said, seeking to please him, saw by his smile that she had.

After the meal was cleared away, the men sat down at one of the tables and unrolled a large map of Normandy. Joanna hovered in the background, playing with her puppy. When her curiosity drew her toward the table, John did not chase her away; instead he sat her on his lap, spent several moments pointing out places on the map, showing her a French town called Gamaches and telling her how he had taken and burnt the town that August past for his brother the King. Joanna did not understand about battles or campaigns; what mattered to her was that he should take the time and trouble to explain.

She was so happy that she went quite willingly when Adele came to fetch her.

Back in the bedchamber, she sat docilely upon the coffer while Adele brushed her hair, wondering why Adele, who obviously did not like her, should care if her hair was combed or not. When Adele put the brush away, she went to the window, climbed onto the seat to gaze down into the bailey. And panicked at what she saw.

"Simon!" She'd actually forgotten all about him.

"Who is Simon?"

"He brought me here." Joanna jerked at the shutters, tugged until she'd blocked Simon from view. "When does he go?"

Adele shrugged. "On the morrow, I expect."

On the morrow. On the morrow Simon would take her away, to her father.

As soon as Adele departed the chamber, Joanna scrambled from the window seat.

Never before had she thought to rebel, but never before had so much been at stake. She quickly settled upon the coffer. Rooting in the hearth for a suitable stick of firewood, she tucked the puppy under her arm, lowered herself into the coffer, and jammed the stick under93 lid so she'd not be utterly in the dark. On the morrow Simon would rch for her in vain, would have to leave without her.

"Joanna?"

She tensed, heard her name called again. Avisa had begun to himper. She shivered, kept very still. And then the coffer lid was thrown back, her hiding place exposed.

"Why did you not answer me, Joanna? What foolish game is this?" But at sight of her tearstained face, John's annoyance ebbed away. Reaching down, he lifted her out, set her beside him on the bed.

"Now, tell me what is wrong."

"I was hiding from Simon," she confessed. "So he could not take me to my father."

There was a silence. She slanted a glance through wet lashes, saw he was watching her, with a very strange look on his face. "Please," she entreated.

"Do not make me go with him."

Still he said nothing. As hope faded, tears began to streak her face again.

"I thought you understood. Joanna ... I am your father."

He saw her eyes widen, pupils dilate with shock. He started to touch her, stopped himself. "Joanna . . . what did your mother tell you of me?"

She swallowed. "That you were wicked, that your soul was accursed, that you did not want me."

The corner of John's mouth twitched. "She lied to you, lass. I do want you."

Joanna stared down into her lap. "Mama did not want me," she whispered.

"Did you love your mother, Joanna?"

She nodded, and then said, almost inaudibly, "I was afraid of Mama sometimes."

John reached out, tilted her chin up. "Do you fear me?"

She did not answer at once, and he was later to tell Adele that he'd actually been able to see it in her eyes, that moment when loyalty given to a dead woman was given to him.

"No," she said, and as the wonder of that realization registered with her, she shook her head vehemently. "No, oh, no . . ."

"You're flesh of my flesh, Joanna, of my blood. You understand what that means?"

"That I belong to you?" she ventured, and he smiled.

"Just so, Joanna. Just so." And then she was in his arms, clinging, and he was laughing, hugging her back.

That was the beginning of the good times for Joanna.8 POITIERS, PROVINCE OF POITOU.

January 1199 a.

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