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filled out well. She would adorn any man’s bedchamber, and Sir Ralph wondered whether she had already been rattled. He doubted it somehow. Huward was a stern parent.
    Then he grew thoughtful. There was no reason for the girl to be visiting the chapel. If she wanted a word with a priest, there was a perfectly good man at Gidleigh, or the one at Throwleigh. So what was she up to? No matter how many times he told himself that she could be quite innocently taking a message for her mother, or offering some charity to a poor monk in the form of victuals, his mind kept turning to the normal reasons for a girl to visit a boy. The monk might look weakly, but Sir Ralph knew there was a certain charm in his features, a regularity about his face, an attractiveness to the large eyes.
    ‘Damn him, I’ll speak and make sure!’ he swore.
     
    A scant half-mile north of him as he rode, Lady Annicia was in the yard of their manor, watching the servants. An elegant, slender woman in her mid-thirties, with pale features and chestnut hair, Sir Ralph’s wife was fortunate enough to know her place in the world and to be perfectly satisfied with it. Her sparkling amber eyes held a contentment and calm certainty. She had given birth to a son, Esmon, so her life could be called a success. Her husband was now a wealthy magnate and could expect still more advantages, especially now he had allied himself with the Despenser family, the King’s own favourites, once they were allowed to return from their exile, as the rumours indicated they soon might.
    If there was one aspect of life with her husband that was less than pleasing, it was his womanising. Not only was it an insult to Lady Annicia, it was a malign influence on their child. Esmon had grown up considering all the local girls to be little more than exciting toys with which he could play. Sometimes a toy was damaged. When it was, he threw it away and found a replacement. The same was true of the women with whom he played. There were always more.
    It was no surprise. Esmon was a terribly good-looking boy. As soon as one girl was thrown over, there were always three more ready to replace her in his affections. It was undoubtedly foolish, but most of these females seemed to think that by ensnaring Esmon, they would win his heart and wind up living here in the castle as his wife. The idiots!
    In the case of her husband, she knew that Sir Ralph had enjoyed some of the women in the area. He had been doing so for years, ever since before their wedding, but that didn’t mean Lady Annicia had to understand his behaviour, nor that she had to approve. It was demeaning and embarrassing for her to know that he sought out other women occasionally, but he was at least discreet. She didn’t have to suffer the shame of having women with squalling brats turning up periodically and demanding help.
    She could only hope that Esmon would be the same. While all the stales in the vill were throwing themselves at him, it would be a miracle if he didn’t enjoy himself with more than a few. There was one only a short way from the manor house – that little strumpet Margery. She had certainly fluttered her eyes at him often enough. Still, Esmon was capable of taking her without getting emotionally involved, Annicia reckoned. He was brighter than that. And to be fair, at least Margery wasn’t trying to win him as a husband. From all Annicia had heard, she was little better than a prostitute.
    This was a good manor. Not as large, perhaps, as poor Richard Prouse’s castle, which bounded the manor on three sides, but even so, it was comfortable, and that was something Richard hadn’t known in the five years or more since that terrible fight during which he was crippled. It was terrible to see a man so ruined when he had been so virile and masculine before, and it was partly that which made her determined that Esmon would never hazard his life in tournaments if she could prevent it.
    With that thought in her mind, she