He cut diagonally through the bustle, weaving and dodging, making breathless apologies. At first he thought that he would lose her, for despite being hampered by her gown, she was as swift as an arrow, and nimble too. But she had been running for longer than he, and gradually he gained on her. At last, she stopped for breath, leaning against a house wall, her hand pressed to her side, and he was able to catch her.

She flung round at the touch on her arm, her blue eyes immense with fear and fury. Her foot drew back to kick her assailant in the shin, and was arrested in mid-motion. 'Benedict?' she gasped, and then her eyes flooded with tears and instead of launching an attack, she threw herself into his arms and hugged him tight. 'You're safe! Oh thank God!'

Austin arrived then, his breath whistling in his throat, and his face the hue of an over-ripe raspberry. He was too exhausted to speak and could only glare at the two of them.

Julitta raised her head from Benedict's chest, tears brimming. She bit her lip. Her own breathing was still rapid and uneven. 'I quarrelled -with Mauger — about you as it happens, and he confined me to our lodging house with Austin as my guard. So… so I ran away.'

'Where is Mauger now?'

'At the horse market – I think. Either there, or in a drinking house.'

'And your quarrel was about me?'

'I thought you were in trouble. He said that you were like a cat — always landed on your feet, and that he did not have the time to seek you out just to discover that you were all right.'

Benedict's lips twitched at her summary of Mauger's response, but there was pain in his smile too. 'Like a cat,' he repeated, and shook his head. 'He is right and he is wrong. I have landed on my feet, but not before being first beaten to my knees.'

By now, Austin had recovered enough to stand straight and his complexion was less congested. 'Mistress Julitta, you must return to the lodging house,' he panted.

'Mistress Julitta must do nothing unless it be her will,' Benedict said sharply to the groom.

The man clamped his jaw. His eyes were nervous. 'Lord Mauger will whip me.'

Julitta gripped Benedict's sleeve. 'It does not matter now that I've found you. I'll willingly return to our lodgings.' She smiled through her tears. 'I will even bow to my husband and admit that I was wrong to fear for your safety.'

'You weren't wrong,' he contradicted. 'If I am here now, it is because of a Moorish physician named Faisal ibn Mansour.' Abruptly he turned to the groom. 'I will escort Lady Julitta back to her lodgings. You can go and find Lord Mauger and tell him I am here and that I take full responsibility.'

Austin deliberated, saw that it was the best that could be salvaged from the situation, and departed in haste to find his master.

Together, Julitta and Benedict began to walk. 'Are you staying in the city?' she asked.

Benedict shook his head. 'No. We sailed up from Corunna on a horse transport galley, and we sleep there.'

His use of 'we' caused Julitta to make a wrong assumption. 'Is Gisele there now?'

'No,' he said quietly. 'Gisele is… is dead.' He lengthened his stride as if to outpace the thought and Julitta had almost to run to keep up.

'Dead? What happened?'

'Let it wait until Mauger comes. It's not something I want to relive more than I must.' He swallowed and glanced at her sidelong. 'It has been a hard road, Julitta.'

'I'm sorry.' It sounded inadequate, but she could think of nothing else to say.

Benedict shrugged and said nothing. They walked on in uncomfortable silence until they came to the wharves and the ships riding at anchor. He showed her his transport galley, theConstantine. It was one of the larger ships in dock, with two decks, and the forward hull doors. 'We load the hones in there for the journey, and then seal them in with pitch,' he explained. 'It means there is more room, and more animals can be loaded at a given time. Once we're underway, we get down to them by hatches and ladders from the top deck.' He went into a detailed explanation of the techniques involved, drawing away from the rip-tide words Gisele is dead. And Julitta followed his lead, nodding sensibly, asking questions whose replies she was not later to recall.

Then Benedict suddenly paused in mid-explanation and shaded his eyes against the sun as a figure emerged from the depths of the vessel and came walking down the gangplank on bandy legs. His tunic was tattered at cuff and hem; he wore a battered felt pilgrim hat on his head, and his face was browner than the oak boards of the vessel's deck. His lower jaw was working busily, folding into his upper as he chewed some black concoction from one side of his mouth to the other. Julitta recognised him from her walk the previous day, and after a momentary recoil, held her ground.

Beside her, Benedict had relaxed, and there was even a smile on his lips.

The old man reached them and leered at Julitta through his horrible, milky eyes.

'Hah!' he said to Benedict in a harsh voice. 'Been doing some trading on the sly, have you?' He looked Julitta up and down as if assessing the points of a horse. 'Something to keep you warm on the journey to Rouen, eh?'

Benedict went red beneath his tan. 'Sancho, I want you to meet Julitta. Do you remember, I spoke of her to you when I told you about my home?'

Sancho appraised Julitta more thoroughly, chewing with great vigour on his liquorice root. 'Rare,' he approved, nodding his head. The leer narrowed. He spat out of the side of his mouth. 'Where's the husband?'

'Being fetched.' Benedict turned to Julitta, sensing her barely contained anger at being thus treated. 'Julitta, this is Sancho, the best stud overseer in all of Castile — for all that he looks like a brigand and he hasn't any manners,' he added pointedly.

'Waste of time,' Sancho growled. 'Say what you mean and be done with it.'

Julitta exchanged glances with Benedict. He saw irritation in her eyes, and a sparkle of amusement. 'What have you told him about me?'

'Everything that I should know,' Sancho interjected. 'And as private as the confessional. I may be a mannerless oaf, but I know when to stitch my lips.'

Which meant that he knew everything. This time it was Julitta who blushed.

Sancho cocked his head to one side. 'So how come you to be in Bordeaux, my lady?'

'My husband is here to buy warhorses at the market for Robert of Normandy, and he desired to bring me with him on this occasion.'

'Ah,' said Sancho. 'Keeping his treasure chest where he can see it.' His eyes glimmered like moonstones, and he grinned wolfishly at Benedict. 'Trouble is, he left it unlocked, didn't he?'

Benedict pulled a warning face at the old man. 'I thought you knew when to stitch your lips,' he said.

'I do,' Sancho retorted. 'Most of the time.'

Sancho insisted on accompanying Benedict and Julitta to the lodging house. He would be a chaperone, he said. Nothing unseemly could possibly happen with him in attendance. Benedict was not certain that he agreed. Sancho's tongue was a razor, and as a matter of bad habit he used it to cut. But at least Julitta would arrive home under the escort of two men instead of just himself. He decided that Mauger would judge the little overseer's presence the lesser of the two evils.

Mauger was already at Madame Clothilde's, his face like thunder, his fist clamped around a goblet of wine which he was just draining as Benedict walked in. The groom stood a little to one side, a fresh red graze on his cheek, his eyes afraid.

The presence of others held Mauger's temper in check, although every muscle was corded and tense. 'I told you to stay,' he said to Julitta, his voice hoarse with the effort of control.

'I was right about Benedict,' she defied him, her chin raised, her body quivering, 'but you chose not to listen.'

'He looks remarkably hale and hearty to me,' Mauger said coldly.

'Late spring he wasn't,' Sancho said, and removing his battered felt hat, sat down on a bench near the window embrasure.

Mauger eyed him with disfavour. 'Who are you?'

'I'm head overseer of the stud belonging to Rodrigo Diaz of Bivar, although that will mean nothing to a barbarian such as you.' Sancho spat his wad of chewed liquorice root onto the floor.

Disgust flared Mauger's nostrils. 'You call me a barbarian?' His gaze swept over the haphazard assembly of rags before him.

'He knows more than either of us,' Benedict defended swiftly, 'and probably more than Rolf, since he's been alive that much longer.'

'I don't believe you,' Mauger said through compressed lips.

'Believe what you want, it's the truth.'

Madame Clothilde appeared then, bearing more wine and two large baskets of bread and fresh fruit. She too looked at Sancho as if she considered him a barbarian whom she would rather not entertain beneath her roof.

She deposited the food and departed to her cooking pot, wiping her hands on her apron and muttering.

Mauger replenished his wine cup and took another long drink. 'Where is Gisele?' he asked.

Benedict hesitated. When he spoke, his voice was devoid of expression. 'She lies in a small chapel on the pilgrim road to Compostella.' His hand shook slightly as he took a drink of his own wine. It was still difficult to talk about. He could feel the weight of Mauger's stare, studying his reactions, judging them. 'We were attacked by Basque brigands in the mountains and she was killed – an arrow through the heart. All of our pilgrim group were slaughtered except me. I…' He broke off with a shuddering breath. It was impossible to continue.

Mauger cleared his throat. His gaze slid away from Benedict, and he tilted his cup to his mouth. 'I am sorry,' he said gruffly.

The sound of Benedict's ragged breathing was loud in the silence. Julitta chewed her lip. Her eyes flickered once to her husband, and then, with sudden decision, she went to Benedict and put her arms around him. 'I am sorry too,' she said. 'She was my sister; she deserved better of life, and of death.'

Benedict made a strangled sound and put his face in his hands. His body was wracked by dry sobs as behind his eyes he saw again the look on Gisele's face as the arrow pierced her heart and brought her down like a doe. Mauger looked on, his expression appalled and embarrassed. Julitta said nothing, just held Benedict, trying to convey sympathy and grief by touch. She could understand why he had shied from the subject on the wharf.

'It is good that he weeps,' said Sancho, the least perturbed of anyone in the room. 'It cleans the wound of poison, makes it easier to heal. I have been concerned about him.'

Julitta raised her eyes to Sancho's. Behind the prickly facade lay compassion and care. 'What happened to him?' she asked.

Briefly Sancho told her the entire story as he had heard it from Faisal, not once glancing at Mauger, as if he felt the other man should not be present.

'I would have gladly died too,' Benedict muttered through the bars of his fingers.

'Not gladly, son,' Sancho reproached. 'If you had truly desired to yield up your soul to God, you would not have fought so hard to live when Faisal was tending you. It is the self-pity in you speaking, not the man.'

Benedict raised his head and stared at Sancho with narrowed eyes. Sancho returned the look, unperturbed. Benedict wiped his eyes on the heel of his hand and pushing himself out of Julitta's embrace, rose and walked to the window embrasure to stare out on Clothilde's sun-filled vegetable garden.

'So what are you doing in Bordeaux?' Mauger demanded, an edge of resentment and suspicion in his voice.

Benedict's left shoulder rose and fell. 'Returning to Brize with my burden of tidings and a cargo of Spanish horses.' His tone was weary now, uncaring. 'I hear that you are seeking a war stallion for Duke Robert.'

Mauger drank off his wine and refilled his cup. 'What of it?'

Julitta glanced at her husband. It occurred to her that with Gisele dead, Benedict was no longer the automatic heir to Brize-sur-Risle, that Mauger was the one with the better claim through herself. She wondered if Mauger had realised it too.

Benedict shrugged again and did not look round. 'Nothing,' he said dully. 'Congratulations.'

'Lord Robert specifically requested that I be sent,' Mauger added defensively.

'I am sure you are capable of selecting the kind of horse the Duke requires.'