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are yours,’ she said, ‘as am I. If you will have us.’“
    â€œAnd he said he would,” said Thibaut, enthralled.
    â€œIt was a great scandal,” Aidan said. “But it was also a marvelous tale, and she was supremely beautiful, and she was prompt to give him a daughter with human eyes. And, to the priests’ disgust, she was quite unmoved by either holy things or cold iron. She would never let them baptize her, but us she sent coolly to the font, and it was no worse than water ought to be in March after a long winter. Even when they sent us to a cloister to be educated, she ventured never a protest. ‘A king’s sons should have learning,’ she said, ‘in all that they may.’ My brother took to it. I,” said Aidan, “was less tractable.”
    â€œIn what? The cloister or the learning?”
    â€œThe cloister,” Aidan admitted after a pause. “The learning was interesting, if sometimes more edifying than I liked. But the walls I was locked in... I thought I would go mad.”
    Even yet the memory could dampen his brow. He tried to laugh it away. “You see. I’m no legend. I’m merely very odd.”
    â€œWonderful,” said Thibaut. He would never dare to touch, but he could hug his knees and stare with all his heart. “You came here alone,” he said. “Did you lose your servant?”
    â€œI had none.”
    Thibaut was incredulous.
    Aidan looked down, shrugging. “Well. I had a few when I began. Some I sent back. Some I set free. I wanted to see this country bare, with no crowds tugging at me.”
    â€œBut now you’re here,” said Thibaut, “and it’s not fitting. You are a prince. You should have an entourage.”
    The prince’s eyes glittered. “I should? And who are you to say so?”
    â€œYour station says it,” Thibaut said with barely a tremor, “and the dignity you won’t admit. You can’t demean yourself like a hedge-knight from a Frankish byre. You have a name to uphold.”
    For a moment Thibaut knew he would be smitten where he sat. But Aidan’s glare turned to laughter. “God’s bones! What a priest you would make.”
    â€œI can’t,” said Thibaut. “I’m heir to Aqua Bella.”
    There was no regret in that, but no horror at the prospect of priesthood, either. Thibaut had thought once that he might like to be a Templar, and ride about with a red cross on his breast, and be looked on with holy awe. But he was three parts a Frank and one a Saracen, and that one was enough. He was no longer bitter about it. He did not fancy sleeping in a stone barn with a hundred other men, and never bathing, and growing his beard to his knees. When he had a beard to grow, which did not look to be soon.
    Aidan, like Gereint, seemed to know by nature what a bath was for. And he did not seem to care that Thibaut’s mother was half a Saracen. His own was all ifritah; or whatever they called her in her own country.
    â€œI want to be your squire,” said Thibaut.
    Aidan’s brows went up.
    â€œI’m old enough,” Thibaut said. “I’m trained. I was Gereint’s, before — ” He swallowed, steadied. “I have to be someone’s. It’s expected. I need it. And since you are a prince, and alone, and the best knight in the world — ”
    â€œNo,” said Aidan.
    Thibaut had not heard it. Would not hear it. “You need me. Your rank demands me. I need you . How will I ever make a knight, with my face and my puniness, unless you teach me?”
    â€œYou did well enough before I came.”
    â€œThat was before,” said Thibaut. “Now I’ll never be satisfied with less.”
    â€œHas it ever occurred to you that that is impudence?”
    Thibaut blushed, but faintly. “It’s true.” After a moment he added, “My lord.”
    Aidan smiled. For him, that was