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carefully folded on the chest where Juliana kept her gowns.  The light from the full moon enabled him to see her face which was flushed with sleep.  Her complexion was clear, her long red hair fanned out on the pillow and Ulfric felt his stomach tighten with a mixture of want and need, and something else – was it affection?  He swallowed and forced himself to get into the big bed alone and closed his eyes wishing that sleep would come immediately and oblivion would take away the feelings he had for this young girl.  Instead, he listened to her even breathing and wondered whether Thorvald had been right in his observations about her softening towards him.  She was friendly enough when they were in company but as soon as they were alone she became distant and uncommunicative.  Women! he thought.  You can’t trust any of them so why shouldn’t he take her to his bed like de Gant would have?  Because you want her to come willingly came the reply in his head.
    He tossed and turned for at least an hour before sleep mercifully overcame him but when he awoke late the following morning, Juliana had risen before him to spend time with her mother.  “Damned women!” he muttered to himself.  His mood had not improved overnight and he felt sluggish and bad tempered as he stomped around the chamber trying to get dressed but every item of clothing seemed to thwart him and by the time he had tamed his breeches and shirt into submission, he was ready to fight anybody who crossed him.
    Downstairs in the hall Juliana was daintily eating her breakfast, “Good morning, Sir Ulfric, how did you sleep?” she asked pleasantly.
    “Huh!” he growled, and she looked at him questioningly as he grabbed a bowl of porridge from a servant’s hand and began to eat.  “Bring me some milk!” he bawled, not noticing the full jug on the table.
    Juliana passed it to him but she could see he was fighting his temper and did not speak.  He sloshed the milk onto the food which overfilled the bowl and splattered the table.  In a great show of frustration he flung the offending jug towards the fire and it smashed on the stone fireplace.  Unaccustomed to this show of temper from their new lord, the servants scurried out of sight and Juliana started to rise to her feet, her appetite quite gone.
    “Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled.
    “To speak to my mother, sire,” she answered plainly.
    “Not till I say so, you’re not.  Do I have to keep reminding you of your place in this household, Juliana?  Have I not said that I am the lord now and you are here under sufferance?”
    As soon as he said the words he wished he could bite them back.  Those beautiful green eyes sparked with fire and she stood with her hands on her hips facing him squarely.
    “If that’s how I’m supposed to live, sire, under your sufferance, then perhaps you will let me and my mother leave.  We have kin in the mid-shires who would welcome us, also in York.  My mother’s family abide there and they would not see us without a roof over our heads.  Just say the word, Sir Ulfric, and we’ll be gone from your sight.”
    Ulfric stared at the beauty he saw before him and wanted nothing more than to snatch her to him and kiss her until she was breathless.  He wanted to take her to the big bed in their chamber and find out for himself if she was still as pure as she made out, or if Erik had taken her first.  He shook his head in defeat, rising to his feet he went to the d oor, looked back and pointed a finger at her, “You go nowhere until I say so, Juliana.  Do you hear me?”
    She presented a sarcastic curtsey and pulled a face in response and watched as he slammed out of the building.  Thorvald hurried after him shaking his head in despair.
    Out in the yard Ulfric shouted for Elding to be saddled for him and paced the cobbles until the horse was readied.  Elding was a fine stallion and his feathered hair which fell over his hooves had been washed