The din and the racket lessened. Robin and seven youths sauntered out the wide open doors in the company of James Graham. Goeffrey and Henri, whose chin barely reached the tabletop, remained at the end of the table. Geoffrey did not turn his head once to look at Bella, but Henri began to inch closer one seat at a time as the high board emptied.

Bella was a little hurt that the child that looked so much like Iain wouldn't so much as look at her this morning.

She feared she knew the reason for that. It wasn't likely that her screams and curses had gone unnoticed in the night.

The one who ought to be embarra.s.sed was the boy's father not his son. However, it seemed the only one really humiliated was her.

After Sir James left the table, Henri hopped onto the knight's tall, vacated chair. He sat, swamped by it, his little feet swinging off the floor waiting for Bella to acknowledge him.

She finished sipping the strong honeyed mead that filled Sir John's jeweled cup, shocked by the alcoholic tinge to it, set the goblet down and touched a napkin to her mouth.

"Good morning, Henri." She looked Sir John's youngest son over. "How are you this fine, sunny morning?"

"Tres bien, Maman," he said somber voiced. "Et tu?"

"Comme ci, comme ca," Bella replied. "Why didn't you say good morning when I came to the table, Henri?"

His blue eyes rounded. "Maman, children must not speak until spoken to." He touted the adage that most a.s.suredly he'd been raised by.

"I see," Bella said gravely. She'd have given anything for a cup of coffee to quell the b.u.t.terflies and tension a.s.saulting her stomach. Greasy Cornish hens, eels and near- beer were not her idea of healthy breakfast food. "Henri, would you do me a great favor this morning?"

"What is that?"

"Take me on a tour of your favorite places." Bella could only wish they would wind up at a playground at a McDonald's eating burgers and milkshakes for lunch.

"Would you like to see my hawk and my puppy?"

"Yes, I certainly would." Bella reached forward to stroke his thick, black curls. Henri was such a handsome child, as endearing as Iain at the same age, but so much better mannered. "Shall we ask Geoffrey to go with us?"

"No, he has to wait for Papa."

"Why is that?"

Henri lifted his shoulders in a gesture that said I don't know. He had freckles on his nose. Bella wanted to kiss and cuddle him and pull him onto her lap. She did not see any reason why she shouldn't. So she patted her lap, giving him a private signal. His rosebud mouth puckered in the deepest frown and he shot a glance at his father that told Bella she had probably ignored his royal pain in the a.s.s, the lord and master her back for as long as he was going to stand for it.

She gingerly swivelled about in her seat and found as she suspected, Sir John glowered at the two of them. Bella met the heat of his gaze well enough, returning a mildly blank expression to him. She had already vowed not to do anything to overtly incite his wrath again.

"I was just discussing with Henri his hawk and his puppy. He has agreed to show them to me," Bella said in the most pleasant tone she could muster. "If you have no objections, my lord."

"Henri may certainly show you his bird after he and Geoffrey and I have our private talk. You, Bella, may go to chapel with Father Kerwin. I will send Henri to you when we are done."

With that said he rose from the table, bowed to her and took Henri's hand in the grip of his very large hand.

Geoffrey jerked his chin up from the table, looking like a truant caught skipping school. He popped onto his feet immediately. When his father put out his other hand, Geoffrey took it without hesitation. As they walked out the screen pa.s.sage at the rear of the hall, Geoffrey shot Bella the only glance she'd received from him since she came into the hall. A more sorrowful expression she hadn't seen in a good long while. She sighed deeply after the boys and their father disappeared.

Geoffrey was in deep trouble.

Bella had a sinking feeling she knew the cause--his deep loyalty to his mother. It had not escaped her notice that Geoffrey had admitted withholding from his father the truth about Lady Isabel's disappearance.

Like any astute general, Chandos intended to mend any breaches he perceived in his flanks. To Geoffrey's cost? Bella wondered. She feared so. She was in no position to aid the boy or run interference for him which she would have gladly done for her own son.

She didn't have time to reflect further upon that because the clerics had begun to move as a unit and Father Kerwin stood beside her, beckoning her to go with him.

She wondered what this was about as she followed the Irish priest to the castle chapel. She did not get too close to him. The coa.r.s.e wool of his robe was mud splattered and filthy at the hem.

That peculiar, rank smell she remembered being on her own skin yesterday hung about the priest.

Thankfully, the chapel was surprisingly fragrant because of the cloying scent of incense and baked bread. It shared a common wall with the castle's huge kitchen complex.

Father Kerwin opened a rosewood cabinet in the rear of the chapel and began to put vestments over his robe. Once he'd fitted the last over his neck, he turned to Bella and pointed to a prie dieu, saying, "Lady Chandos, I'll hear your confession now."

When the Angelus bells rang at noon Bella was still on her knees reciting the prayers levied on her for penance. Henri had fallen asleep on the pew at her side. Father Kerwin seemed determined to wait her out, remaining in the sanctuary until she finished.

Bella kept her eyes glued to the painted figure on the cross. The Medieval life-sized Jesus had been caught in supreme agony, at the moment when Christ had lifted his eyes to heaven and cried out torturously, "My G.o.d, my G.o.d, why hath thou forsaken me?"

Bella could empathize with that Christ figure. She wished she had a rosary so she could keep better count, but that treasured possession had disappeared in the maelstrom that had destroyed her purse.

Finally, she finished all that she could do in the line of penance for now. The rest involved dispensing of alms and offering some manual labor as atonement for Lady Isabel's sins. As Bella stood a rush of blood and feeling returned to her feet. Her right knee throbbed bitterly though she did her best to ignore it. She bent over Henri and woke him.

They genuflected in the aisle together, bid good day to the priest, and stepped out into the wonderful sunshine of a faultless summer day that was spoiled only by the many puddles and muddy spots that had to be avoided as Henri guided Bella to the stable.

Henri tugged on Bella's hand saying, "You had to say a lot of prayers, Maman."

"Yes, I did, Henri. I had no idea what a sinner I was until Father Kerwin directed me through an examination of my conscience. Now, where is this puppy of yours?" Bella distracted the child deliberately. Enough was enough.

With the full weight of Lady Isabel's sins resting on Bella's slim shoulders, she was thankful she wasn't down in the dungeon with a Grand Inquisitor preparing her to be burned as a heretic.

As Father Kerwin had been the family's confessor for more than a decade, he was an impressive font of information regarding Isabel Chandos. Bella know knew for a fact that Sir John had more than adequate cause for his wrathful behavior of the night before.

Not that she wanted to give that despot any benefit of the doubt. However, he could easily have turned into a raging Oth.e.l.lo and Bella wouldn't have been able to hold the crime of murder against him--except for the fact he would have been killing the wrong wife!

She wondered if G.o.d was going to take that into consideration on Judgement Day.

It would be a very difficult coil to extract Isabel Wynford from the censure Isabel de Chandos had earned.

Two items of which Bella had no idea how to deal with satisfactorily.

The first centered around those missing six days between Isabel de Chandos' disappearance and Bella's arrival, yesterday. She gathered from Father Kerwin's pointed questions that the male of this era found it entirely inconceivable, impossible and unbelievable that a woman could spend six days knocking around England without compromising her virtue, being raped repeatedly and trading s.e.x for food and necessities.

Considering their interview of the evening before, Chandos held the same opinion as his priest.

The second most serious offense centered around King Edward and the fact that Lady Isabel had taken it upon herself to throw the king out of this castle.

Bella did not know what to do about either of those grave misdeeds. Certainly, she would not have done what Isabel did. The only hope for peace in the future lie in making a bid for forgiveness...from the king, and from Lord Chandos.

The king was an anathema Bella had yet to confront. Sure, she could say to the monarch, "Oh, I made a mistake, forgive me." That cost her nothing. She could not and would not do that to John de Chandos. The man had callously and grievously hurt her, against all good faith on her part. Sir John had the imagination and brains of a slug. A monsoon would turn the Sahara into a garden before she sought his forgiveness. The king, on the other hand, might turn out to be somebody Bella could deal with, did she have the opportunity to meet him.

That opportunity, Father Kerwin's lecture had informed her, she would have. The reason Kerwin had told her that was to lesson her on the ultimate facts of life in this age.

All castles in England, Ireland and Wales were ultimately owned by G.o.d's chosen steward on earth, His Majesty Edward, King of England. Ergo, Sir John stood in the king's stead as his loyal steward, running and managing this complex citadel for his king. Lady Isabel did not have the right to evict the king.

Bella did want to know what effrontery King Edward had committed that had forced Lady Isabel's hand. When she asked the priest that question, Kerwin had been outraged at her temerity. After which he told her she was unrepentant, proud and basically disagreeable and those were the nicer traits the priest had cited.

The truth was, the priest was correct. Bella didn't have anything to be really repentant over, as the sins she was forced to confess to were not hers to begin with.

And Bella thought it was a d.a.m.ned dirty trick for Chandos to drop her into the greedy paws of the Catholic Church at the height of the inquisition era--her second day on the scene.

She was extremely careful of what she said and didn't say to Father Kerwin. He might be Irish and gentle in his overall demeanor, but there could be a Jesuit Inquisitor lurking around somewhere--like at the local bishop's chancellory. She knew her history of the Middle Ages very well and did not plan to wind up as the featured heretic at a public bonfire, witch burning or exorcism. Knowing that, it behoved her to keep her big mouth shut about where she really came from and who she really was.

She and Henri came to the stables. Henri ran excitedly ahead, calling his puppy. Holding her hems clear of the trampled straw, Bella followed the boy to a stall spread with profuse layers of cut hay. Inside the stall was a beautiful black and white Spaniel and seven adorable pups.

The puppies eyes were open and their fat little bellies were just nicely off the ground. Henri threw himself

onto the straw, rolling in a yapping sea of puppy love.

"Ah, what wonderful puppies." Bella held onto the wooden stall for support as she lowered herself to Henri and the puppies level. The dam looked up at her with marvelous, soulful brown eyes. Bella petted the dam's head and got her hand licked affectionately in return.

Henri had a hold of one wriggling male so excited that it peed on the straw and the boy. "This one's mine.

Gunni promised me the pick of the litter. See, isn't George the strongest puppy you've ever seen?"

"He most certainly is. May I hold him?"

"Yes, but you have to be very careful, Maman. Do not squeeze him or drop him."

Oblivious to the puppies falling off his legs, Henri stood up and very tenderly placed his puppy in Bella's hands. A little pink tongue stuck out to stroke her cheek.

"You can tell him, no. 'Tisn't too soon to train him to the way he's expected to behave," Henri said in very serious tones.

"Why?" Bella laughed. "I wouldn't scold him, not when I love kisses, even from puppies."

Henri shucked the straw from his tunic and bent to pet and praise the dam. "Bride is Papa's favorite hound. She can't hunt for Papa now 'cause she's stuck nursing puppies.

Papa says Bride always finds the best ducks."

Bella handed him back his favorite and scooped up another. It yawned in her face and wiggled at the same time, this one a female with so many pepper spots across its nose it was almost one black patch.

"Oo, puppy breath," Bella chuckled, glad this child had waited for her and shared with her his treasures.

"They are adorable puppies."

"Do you really like them?" Henri asked. "I thought you only liked cats."

"I like puppies even more that I like kittens. I wouldn't know how to pick a favorite, they are all so cute,"

Bella told him.

"Oh, that's simple," Henri declared. "Papa says to always pick the strongest and most intelligent one."

"Not the biggest?"

"No." Henri mimicked someone he'd heard lecture. Bella couldn't imagine who. "You watch the litter very close when they're born and looking for a teat. The smart ones go right to one. If you're not there when the litter is born and you want to know whose smart and who isn't, you pull them all off a foot or so and watch. Same thing."

"I see." Bella put her two puppies down and watched how they made a bee line for their favorite teat. "Where did you learn that?"

"From Gunni Douglas, he's Papa's kennel master." Henri put his puppy on the straw and snapped to attention, folded his arms, one to his waist, one to his back, and said, "Oh, h.e.l.lo, Father. I am showing Maman my puppy."

His greeting was the first that Bella realized they were not alone in the stall. "Well," Bella said softly as she looked around behind her, "Speak of the devil and in he walks."

Sir John leaned against the wooden wall separating the stalls. His arms were crossed over his black shirted chest and he appeared comfortably at rest, an indication he'd been there for a while. He acknowledged Henri's bow with a nod of his head and raised an eyebrow for Bella's mocking undertone.

A touch of panic welled through Bella as she wondered if she was supposed to bow and sc.r.a.pe before him each time they came across one another in this ma.s.sive household.

"Have you forgotten something, Henri?" he asked. "It's gone past the Angelus bells."