"What of Father John?" Oth asked. "Will he believe your little tale of school in France? He is no fool, lad."

"I will tell him the truth," Glynn said. "He cannot betray me lest he betray Edward's subterfuge to his kin. I do not believe he will do that."

Oth looked at the boy who was now sixteen and practically a man. He would not have expected such a daring plan from the gentle Glynn, but it was obvious that the lad meant to seek his sister out no matter what anyone else said. "What are we to do for traveling funds?" he asked in a pragmatic tone. "Dewi and I have some coins put aside, but we'll need more than what we have."

"I have my allowance," Glynn said. "I've never spent it but for strings for my musical instruments. I have almost everything Edward gave me last year, and I will ask Rafe de Beaulieu for more since I am going to France." He chuckled. "And if we run out of funds, I shall sing for our supper."

"Well, then," said Oth, "there is nought to keep us from our travels, Glynn ap Llywelyn. We shall come for you in three days' time."

And when they did the father was most sympathetic. "Of course Prince Llywelyn would want his son with him under the tragic circumstances," he said. Father John had told him of Rhonwyn's demise. "We have been praying for the lady's good soul ever since we learned the terrible news." He turned to Glynn. "We shall eagerly await your return, Glynn ap Llywelyn. Go now and comfort your father."

"You're a true Welshman," Oth said approvingly as they rode through the city gates. "You played your part well and never once looked guilty over the lies we told that good priest."

Glynn merely grinned at his companion.

At Haven Gastle the boy appeared alone and told his tale to Rafe de Beaulieu and his sister. Father John lifted a questioning eyebrow but said nothing.

"So you are considering being a priest," Rafe said enthusiastically.

"Why should this make you happy?" Glynn said.

"Because you are my cousin Edward's get. He will wed my sister, Katherine, when he returns from crusade. While you are a bastard, if Edward should die, you might attempt to usurp my sister's children from their rightful inheritance. As a priest I can trust you and your intentions, Glynn of Thorley."

Glynn felt a terrible fury welling up within him. Rhonwyn was barely dead, according to Edward, and he was already planning a new marriage. I will kill him, Glynn vowed silently to himself, and then he caught Father John's eye. He swallowed his anger back down, but it still burned within him as he said, "Your devotion to your sister is commendable, Rafe."

"What is this all about?" the priest demanded of Glynn when they were finally alone.

"I do not believe my sister is dead," Glynn replied. "You scoff at my Celtic mysticism, but there has always been a bond between my sister and me. It is not that I am grieving or unable to accept the truth in this matter. If Rhonwyn were dead, I should feel it. I do not, and if I do not, she must be alive. I am going to the Holy Land to find her and to find out from my treacherous brother-in-law what has happened to her. How quickly he plans his remarriage."

The priest sighed. "I see I cannot dissuade you, Glynn," he said. "May I assume Oth and Dewi are nearby?"

"They are and will be my companions in this adventure." The boy's eyes twinkled. "You must see that Rafe de Beaulieu gives me a fat purse for my journey to France and my year's stay there."

"What did you tell the abbott?" the priest demanded.

"That my father had called me back to Wales," Glynn replied. "It seemed a plausible explanation."

"Aye," the priest said. "If you must lie, 'tis best to keep it simple." He sighed again, then advised, "Go to Dover, Glynn. There are still ships sailing for the Holy Land with men who wish to join Prince Edward. A young minstrel and two men-at-arms will easily find passage on one of these vessels. This is a good time of year to go, as the seas will be calmer than in winter."

"You will pray for us, father, will you not?"

"I will pray hard for you, Glynn ap Llywelyn. You go, I fear, on a fool's errand, but if it will satisfy your heart and soul to make this journey, then I cannot deny you. If Edward de Beaulieu says your sister is dead, God assoil her good soul, then surely she must be, for what reason would he have to lie? He cared for the lady Rhonwyn."

Glynn shook his head. "Like you, I am puzzled, but I also know in my heart that my sister lives. Why Edward believes her dead I cannot say, but I go to learn the truth of the matter."

"I will see you well funded," the priest promised.

The monies were handed over, and Glynn departed Haven Castle the following day, a fat purse well hidden on his person and Father John's blessing ringing in his ears. Joining Oth and Dewi down the road, he turned to look back and wondered if he would ever see Haven again. While startling, the feeling did not distress him. His goal was to find Rhonwyn, and in that he would not be deterred. He bad grown not just physically but intellectually during his time at the abbey school. While he still preferred music and poetry to armaments and fighting, he had found he was capable of being tough and hard when he must be so.

They spent the next few days riding across England to Dover. There, as the priest had told them, were vessels preparing to depart for the Holy Land and Prince Edward's crusade. They took passage on a sturdy ship with a Welsh captain who, looking at Oth, claimed kinship with him through a female relation and welcomed them aboard. After three days at sea the captain and Oth had traced their family connection to the sister of Oth's grandsire, who had been the captain's grandmam. Oth explained to his kinsman that Glynn was also their kinsman and a minstrel going to the Holy Land to entertain the soldiers. During the seven weeks of their voyage Glynn entertained the captain and the crew with his ballads, his sweet voice rising above the roar of the sea.

Once into the Mediterranean the days and the nights grew warmer and then hot. Their vessel stopped at several ports to unload and take on cargo, food, and water. Finally they reached Acre, an ancient city reputed to have the finest port on the Mediterranean. Once Acre had belonged to the Syrians, but in the seventh century it had been captured by the Arabs. It had changed hands several times during the early crusades, but was now firmly in the hands of the Knights Hospitalers who had held it for almost a hundred years as part of the kingdom of Jerusalem.

Glynn, Oth, and Dewi disembarked their ship and quickly found themselves in the crowded, noisy, and dusty streets of the city. Their ship's captain had directed them to a small inn where they would not be cheated or robbed if they were careful. Reaching the inn, they were relieved to find the innkeeper, a large buxom woman of indeterminate age, spoke the Norman tongue.

"I am Glynn of Thorley, minstrel extraordinaire and sent to you by Captain Rhys, mistress. These two are my bodyguards, who are quite capable of keeping the peace within your inn on the best of nights or the worst," Glynn told her with an elegant bow.

"You are seeking employment?" she asked them, her hands upon her ample hips.

"We seek temporary shelter, mistress," Glynn said, "but we are willing to work for it and for our supper."

"Why temporary?" the innkeeper demanded of him, licking her lips provocatively as she looked at Oth.

Oth winked at her.

"I have come to Acre seeking my good overlord, Edward de Beaulieu, who is with Prince Edward," Glynn answered. "If he is in Acre, I will find him, and if he is not, I may at least learn where he is, mistress."

"I can accommodate you," the innkeeper said. "You may have your days free, but your nights you must give to me… to entertaining my customers, I mean. And your men will be at my beck and call in the evenings as well. Is it agreed?" For the first time she looked directly at Glynn, surprised at his youth.

"It is agreed, mistress," he said with a smile. He thought her a pretty woman with skin as white as milk and black, black hair.

"My name is Nada," the innkeeper said. "It means giving in the language of the Arabs, and I am known to be a most generous woman." Her gaze was again on Oth. "Do your companions have names, young minstrel?"

"They are Oth and Dewi," Glynn responded with a gesture toward the two men.

"There is a nice room behind the kitchens," Mistress Nada said. "Come, and I will show you. Then, perhaps, you would like to have a decent meal, for from the look of you, you haven't had good food in over a month. I like my men with more meat on their bones."

"The better to eat you alive," Dewi murmured to his companions in their own tongue. "You're a lucky dog, Oth. She looks like she'll prove a right lusty fuck!"

"I'll see if she has a sister," Oth returned softly.

The inn, in a whitewashed dried mud building, had a hard-packed dirt floor. Inside it was cool and dim. The wooden tables were well scrubbed, their benches tucked neatly beneath them. They followed the innkeeper through the main room of her establishment into a bright kitchen at the rear of the building. From the rafters there bung sheaves of dried herbs and fruits. Pots boiled merrily over the fire. From the ovens came the delicious smell of baking. The three women servants glanced briefly at them, then returned to their chores. The men could see a courtyard beyond the kitchen through its narrow windows.

"Your room is through there." She pointed. "It has a door to the courtyard. It is clean and dry, I promise you."

Glynn stepped into the chamber, followed by Dewi. Oth, however, remained in the kitchen with the innkeeper. He backed the woman up into a wall alcove and fumbled her ample breasts. Nada smiled broadly, showing strong white teeth, and rubbed herself against him in a decidedly suggestive manner.

"There is no time now," she said, "and besides, you will need a good meal first so you may be filled with strength. What does Oth mean?" Her hand slipped into his breeches, and she fondled him, her black eyes widening as she felt him hard and large in her palm. "Leave us," she called to her three servants, who immediately obeyed.

"Giant," he said meaningfully. "Dewi will keep the boy away." Then he turned her about, pushing her down over her kitchen table even as his hands were raising up her skirts so he might have access to her. His manhood found her love channel easily, and Oth thrust himself into the woman with a groan, working himself back and forth as she eagerly pushed her plump rump into his groin.

"Ah, that's good, you devil!" she moaned. "Don't stop!"

He pleasured her for several minutes, and then said, "Sorry, lass, but 'tis just a taster I can give you now. Yer right. I do need my dinner." Then he emptied his seed into her with a lusty sigh.

Nada let out a long hiss of breath, collapsing slightly upon her table. As Oth withdrew from her she slowly straightened herself up and turned about to face him. "My rooms are on the other side of the courtyard," she told him, pulling her skirts down and giving him a quick kiss. "I can use a lusty lover… temporarily." Then she left the kitchen.

"I thought a man rode atop the woman," Glynn said as he and Dewi came forth from the chamber.

"Not always," Oth replied. "Have you had a woman yet, lad?"

Glynn nodded. "In Shrewsbury there's a girl who spreads her legs for a ha'penny. My friends at the school took me. I've been twice."

"And you liked it?" Oth questioned Glynn.

"Aye, 'tis why I went again," the young man replied.

The two older men laughed. "Well, in that you are your father's son," they told him.

Then Oth said, "Since you've made a beginning of it, we'll teach you what you need to know, young Glynn. Acre is as good a place as any for a young fellow to sow his wild oats."

"But first I must find Edward," Glynn said, all business again.

"We'll find him," Oth promised.

And they did, although it took almost a full week. During the hot days they sought out de Beaulieu, while in the evenings Glynn's sweet voice filled Mistress Nada's inn and poured out into the streets. Word of the young minstrel spread quickly, and the inn was packed with men of all lands listening to Glynn as he sang ballads old and familiar and some that he had himself composed. The inn's guests quickly found a new favorite in "The Warrior Woman," which Glynn had composed about his sister. The serving maids had taken to practically tiptoeing when Glynn was entertaining. They had also taken to coming into his chamber at night to pleasure both him and Dewi while Oth was with Mistress Nada.