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His face, weathered by the sun and wind, scarred by a killer's blade; his hair silvered and lank; he moved with the daunting confidence of a man who trusted both his instincts and his reflexes. Despite the rakish eye patch, there was no swagger in his walk, no bravado in his manner. He was matter-of-fact and deliberate in the performance of all his duties, whether it was scattering street urchins or tracking the ungodly through the city's sordid underbelly. Now, his lone black eye gleaming with a sardonic cast, he intercepted them as they returned to the guards' chamber after depositing Giles de Vitry in the underground dungeon known as the pit.
     
    "I hear I have another prisoner," he said by way of greeting. "Careless of me to have forgotten about him. Would I be prying if I asked his name?"
     
    "Giles de Vitry. He is to be kept under close watch until I come back for him." Justin stepped closer, pitching his voice for the Serjeant's ear only. "He is Lord John's man."
     
    Jonas nodded impassively. "I did not imagine you'd be bringing me some hapless cutpurse or poacher. With you, I can forget robbery or petty thievery and plunge right into the fun of assassination, conspiracy, and treason."
     
    Justin grinned. "What can I say? I keep bad company. Come by the alehouse later and I'll buy you a drink, give you what answers I can."
     
    "I'll settle for being warned if this is likely to get me hanged."
     
    ~~
     
    Eleanor showed but one moment of weakness, a brief hesitation before reaching for the parchment. When she raised her eyes from the incriminating letter, she had taken refuge in the role she'd been playing for decades. "I want you to return tonight after Vespers," she said coolly. "The Archbishop of Rouen must be made aware of this threat to the peace of the realm, as must the other justiciars. They may well have questions for you. Bring your friend de Marston, too."
     
    "I will, Madame," Justin promised. He yearned to tell her how sorry he was to have given her such dire news. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap and she'd lost color, looking so fragile and delicate that he was reminded forcefully of her advanced years. Now in the deep winter of her life, she deserved better than this, than to be caught between the conflicting claims of her own sons. But he dared not intrude into the private pain of this very public woman. It was not for him to comfort a queen.
     
    "I will have ready a writ for de Vitry's arrest," she continued. "I daresay I can find a dungeon deep enough to hide him away from the world, where he can repent the sin of rebellion... or rot."
     
    Justin, the bishop's son, murmured dutifully, "'He that diggeth a pit shall fall into it.'" He found himself wondering what Scriptures said of a mother who must pass judgment upon her own son. It was easy enough to cast de Vitry into a sunless prison. But how would she deal with John?
     
    ~~
     
    As he emerged from the queen's chamber, Justin was waylaid by the Lady Claudine. It was as neatly done an ambush as he'd ever encountered. Just when the path seemed clear, she materialized at his side, slipping her arm through his. "When I was a girl," she said, "I had a pet cat. My father insisted cats were good only for catching mice, but I would not heed him and doted upon my kitten, naming him Midnight and feeding him cream and whatever delicacies I could coax from the cooks. But when he got older, he began to roam. I cried each time he disappeared, and one of my brothers fashioned a leather collar with a small bell for him. It did not keep him from wandering, but at least I could hear him coming back. I am beginning to wonder, Justin, if I need such a collar for you."
     
    He forced a smile. "I did not have time to let you know I'd be going away. It was sudden ..." What excuse could he give? "My father was taken ill."
     
    Claudine's eyes widened. "Justin, you've never spoken of your father before! I assumed he was dead. I am sorry to hear he is