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also attracted the attention of men at nearby fires. Joan pulled back
closer to the wall.
    The knight turned away and entered his tent. A moment later,
his braies flew out the flap and landed at Edwina’s feet.
    “Thank you, sir,” Edwina shouted as she stooped to scoop up
the linen undergarment. “Ye count out those pennies now. I’ll be here at dawn
to collect ‘em.”
    Joan hastened away before Edwina saw her in the shadows. The
woman would think nothing of calling out her name, and everyone who heard—Adam
Quintin included—would know she’d watched the knight strip from his bloody
garments.
    Once Joan had held out hope that Nat and Edwina would marry.
Though they never had, Edwina often served up advice like a mother would and
watched over her.
    She stopped at the cottage. “Papa, I’m going to take Matthew
for a run.” She did not tell him she wanted to teach the lymer a new hand
signal. Matthew spent so much time with Nat, she had little opportunity to keep
his training apace of his fellows.
    Nat stood up and stretched. “I’ll be off to bed then, I’ve
got to be up before the sun.”
    She kissed his cheek and left the cottage. She made a light
clucking sound with her tongue to bring Matthew to her heel. They passed the
kennel and she leashed an older, more experienced lymer named Basil. The three
of them walked through the many stalls and tents in the bailey. Men did not
bother her with two sizable dogs at her side.
    Some newly arrived merchants were erecting their makeshift
stalls for the week. Servants stood about talking to the visitors, sharing
gossip.
    At the gate, Joan nodded to Thomas, the gatehouse guard. “I
want to run the lymers along the river.”
    Thomas frowned. “You shouldn’t be out so late. I’ve orders
from the bishop that any who wish to come or go may, but I think he had yon
suitors in mind.”
    “I’ll not be long.” She hastened on as she spoke, lest the
man try to detain her.
    Matthew raced away from the village and toward the river
though the older dog remained at her side. “So, you’re of the same mind as I,”
she said when Matthew circled back. “There’s naught in the village we care to
see, is there?”
    She ruffled the hound’s ears. He made a happy, snuffling
sound, then bounded off toward the muddy river bank.
    After he’d had a short run, she called him back for
training. She held her hand by her side, her fingers together. The older lymer,
Basil, immediately sat. Matthew followed suit, still as a statue. When she
spread her fingers, both dogs rose, but crouched low on their haunches, bodies
tense, ready to spring. She closed her fingers and without hesitation, both sat
again. She rewarded them with fine words of praise and her baked nuggets.
    Then she worked on another signal, her hands crossed on her
breast, one she thought she might need with so many men on the castle grounds.
The signal would cause the dogs to hold a man in position. Guarding, she called
it. And if the man tried to pass the dogs, they would menace him until he
stopped.
    It was not a skill needed for hunting. It was a skill she
had taught each dog for her own protection.
    “Is Matthew not a canny student?” she asked Basil. “You are
both wonderful,” she said when they were done. “Now play.” She snapped her
fingers. Matthew bounded off. The older lymer remained at her side, never
moving more than a foot away.
    She followed Matthew at her own pace, keeping the castle
walls on her right. The dog wandered, nose to the ground, occasionally pausing
to look back at her, then offering a muffled woof to let her know she moved too
slowly to suit him. With a sigh, she looked back at the castle.
    The moon rose from behind the walls to illuminate her path
and silver Matthew’s sleek coat. He looked like he might be the ghost of the
long-dead Jupiter as he slipped and slid from shadow to shadow.

Chapter Four
     
    Adam and Hugh crossed the bailey to Ravenswood’s great hall
lighted with