"Now, what is this unseemly uproar? My daughter has disappeared, and you're more interested in brawling with the cook's slattern of a daughter?"

"She's the one responsible for your precious daughter's disappearance,"

Tarold retorted sullenly.

"The s.l.u.t told Aldyth a pack of lies about me, that's why she's run off!"

Sir Nyle eyed them both and sighed.

"What did you tell her, girl?" he demanded of Maud.

Maud looked sulky.

"Only the truth--that he's a lecher and a brute, an' that 'twas not likely he'd change."

"You trollop! You couldn't get enough of me!" taunted Turold, too furious to care what Sir Nyle thought anymore.

"Silence!" roared Sir Nyle.

"Get you gone from this keep, Tarold, you and your crone of a mother! I never want to see you darken my doorway again!"

Tarold eyed the older man, who did not shrink from his gaze.

"Aye, I'll be gone, right enough," he growled.

"But I'll find your daughter, and she'll be sorry when I do. We're betrothed, and that makes her mine as good as if we'd wed.

What's mine stays mine. Don't think you can hide her from me. "

Sir Nyle kept his eyes on the angry young farmer until he left the kitchen, then had a man-at-arms follow him until he and his mother had departed for Swanlea. He was profoundly grateful that Lord ltienne and his wife had left for Kingsclere earlier. They had promised to help search for Aldyth, and to let him know if she appeared at Kingsclere, of course. But he was relieved they had not witnessed this scene, for the embarra.s.sment would have only added to his anguish.

How could he have let his eagerness to see his daughter safely settled with a husband lead him to make such a mis79 judgment? The signs of Turold's true nature had been there, surely, if he had but looked.

Ah, Aldyth, daughter of my heart, I'm so sorry. l should have let you stay here, instead of forcing you to run away.

Oh, Jesu, protect her, wherever she may bet That night he wrote a long, difficult letter, telling G.o.dric about the mistake he had made and Aldyth's flight. But days pa.s.sed, and G.o.dric's reply, when it came, merely indicated he would be looking for his sister. He said nothing about whether he believed his father's accusations about Five days later, in the midst of a bone-chilling late afternoon downpour, Aldyth came to the castle just inside Winchester's west gate.

"Be on your way, beggar lad!" ordered a man-at-arms standing in the doorway of the guard's hut next to the wall around the outer ward. He spoke in Norman French and then repeated it in thickly accented English.

"You're not near sweet enough to serve the king!"

Loud guffaws greeted his sally from within the hut, where Aldyth could see men squatting in a ring, dicing. She drew closer, hoping her disguise would hold. This was the first major test, for during the four days of her journey, she had avoided the main roads and the company of other folk, fearing pursuit by Turold.

"Please, sir," she answered him in French, remembering to keep her voice husky and low,

"I'm not here to serve the king, but I must needs see my cousin Warin, who serves Lord Ranulf of Kingsclere."

The guard squinted at her more closely, then reached out a callused finger and wiped her cheek.

"Well, you might do after all, once you wipe off your muddy face. It seems you brought half the down land dirt with you, lad!"

"Don't tease the stripling, Fulk! He said he wasn't here to be one of Rufus's pages," called a man over his s...o...b..der.

"Hurry up and be done with him, or you'll lose your turn, and I warn you, luck is with me!"

"All fight, all right. Well, boy, I can't possibly know the names of all the lads running about here, but I do know my lord of Kingsclere. His lodging is in the west tower, there." He called to someone in the guard tower, and a moment later the gate opened to Aldyth.

Moments later she had found her way up to the chamber at the top of the stairs. Knocking at the heavy oaken door, she thought, J6su, what if Ranulf answered it? Her disguise had fooled the guard, who had been in a hurry to get back to his dice, but what about someone who knew her? "My lady? Is that you, Lady Vivienne?" came a voice from within. Warin's voice. She recognized the woman's name he called, too--'twas the name of Ranulf's mistress.

"Nay, Warin, but you know me," she called back, keeping her voice gruff and low-pitched.

She heard the sound of the bolt being shot back, and then Warin stood before her in the page's livery with the silver unicorn era blazoned on it. He stared at her, puzzled. "Are you alone, Warin?" she asked him, resisting the urge to fling herself at her brother until she was sure it was safe.

"Aye, but who--hey, you can't just barge into my lord's quarters," he said, reaching out a hand to stop her as she walked past him and shut the door behind her. The room she was standing in was not large and contained only a brazier, a table and a pair of chairs. There was a door at the back of it that led, she guessed, to another room, which must contain Ranulf's bed.

Feeling the heat radiating from the brazier, she went to it, stretching her 81 frozen fingers over its warmth before turning back to her brother.

"Warin, 'tis me, Aldyth," she said in her normal voice, pulling back her hood.

Her younger brother's eyes widened and he stared as if horror struck

"Aldyth? What are you doing here? I thought you had married Turold!"

His mouth dropped open as he came closer and fingered a strand of the brown hair that clung damply to her temple.

"Aldyth, you're as wet as a trout!

And what in the name of the saints have you done to your hair? "

She couldn't help but smile at his expression.

"I cut it so I could pa.s.s for a boy on the journey to Winchester, for my own safety. Warin, I ... I found I couldn't marry Turold. On the eve of the wedding I learned he was not a kind, gentle man at all but a brute and a lee her

"Did he ... did he h/t you?" asked Warin, reaching a tentative hand out to touch her face. She flinched from the pain. She nodded wordlessly. The bruise spoke for itself "But couldn't you have gone to Father, Aldyth?"

Wafin asked, his face worried as he took in her muddied, humble garb.

"Surely this wasn't necessary--to hack off your hair and dress like a plowboy!"

'"Twas the scullion's clothes, actually," Aldyth pointed out wryly, "but they're somewhat the worse for the journey.

No, I was afraid to trust that Father would get me released from the betrothal. He had insisted it was either a husband or the convent for me.

Turold was so convincing . Father would never have believed what the real Turold was like under that false front. Besides, I was afraid of Turold plotting revenge for his humiliation. I do believe he'd stop at nothing, Warin! "

"I never met this Turold of Swanlea, sister, but G.o.drio said" -- "Oh, G.o.dric thinks Turold hung the moon merely because he isn't Norman," she snapped, then softened her tone.

"He wouldn't have believed me, either, Warin. Don't you see? I had to come here!"

"Ah, you came to Lord Ranulf for aid! Aye, he'll help you, Aldyth,"

Warin replied enthusiastically.