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day?
    Inquiries into what? Folk ran from unhappiness every day. So the nun stole a relic and went to Will Longford – that signified nothing unless he was a relic dealer. The fact that he had not sold the relic in a year suggested that he was not.
    Well then, that raised the question of why he had helped Joanna. No one had described her yet. Perhaps she had appealed to Longford. But why the two murders? And where was Longford?
    Owen shook himself. He was being drawn in.
    A hand clamped down on his right shoulder. ‘This place suits Lancaster, eh?’
    ‘A treacherous keep for a treacherous man, my friend.’ Owen would know that strong grip anywhere. How did Lief use those meaty hands to carve such delicate figures and sweet-voiced flutes?
    Lief shrugged. ‘I meant it in a more complimentary way, but no matter.’ He followed Owen’s gaze down the precipice. ‘Can you imagine the pitiful prayers of the poor souls who built this?’
    ‘Aye, that I can. I have heard some of the men say Gaunt lusts for this castle. He shall have it from our Queen in the end. No one stands in his way, not even his mother.’
    ‘And the tenants will be better for it.’
    Owen snorted.
    ‘The Duke is not the tyrant you think him. Neither is he the old Duke. There will never be Henry of Grosmont’s like again. But Gaunt is a fair man, and wants the best for England.’
    Owen had been captain of archers to the old Duke and would gladly have laid down his life for the great warrior and statesman. The present Duke had yet to win his respect. ‘Lief, you are a fool.’
    ‘Well, when you meet the Duke at Pontefract next week you will see I am right.’
    Owen shrugged.
    ‘What news from York?’
    ‘His Grace orders us to York, where we may continue training while I look into the tale of a runaway nun who leaves a trail of corpses behind her.’ Owen scowled. ‘Does the man think I live only for him?’
    Lief pressed Owen’s shoulder. ‘I am relieved to hear it is a summons from the archbishop, not news of trouble at home. With Lucie expecting a child . . .’ Lief sat down in a watchman’s alcove, patted the stone ledge beside him.
    Owen sat down. ‘He says nothing of Lucie.’
    ‘He’s stirring up trouble again that will take you from your home, eh?’ Lief drew a knife from a sheath at his waist and made the first cut in a block of wood he carried. ‘In my mind, that’s the trouble with forbidding priests to follow their nature. If they had wives and families, they’d understand.’
    Owen had an odd grin on his face.
    Lief frowned. ‘I’m happy to make you smile, but I’m damned if I know what I said to do it.’
    ‘My friend, you sounded philosophical just then.’
    Lief chuckled. ‘’Tis all the time I spend with you. You’re such a thinker. Worse than ever, you are. A regular worrier.’
    ‘Aye, you’re probably right about that.’ Owen had let the letter drop down beside him, and sat with his forearms on his thighs, his hands folded, his head drooping.
    Lief whittled for a while. ‘And so why is that, Captain? Why are you ever in such a dark study?’
    Owen shrugged. ‘I have more to worry about.’
    ‘The archbishop, you mean?’
    ‘Lucie and the baby.’
    Lief glanced over at his friend, surprised by the answer. ‘You cannot mean to say you are not happy to have a child on the way?’
    ‘I thank God that He has blessed us.’
    Lief frowned. ‘Then is it Lucie? You do not love her?’
    What were all these silly, wrong-headed questions? ‘I love her beyond measure.’
    ‘Then what ails you?’ Lief asked, exasperated.
    Lief would never change. Life was very simple to him, a handful of absolutes.
    ‘What if she dies in childbed? What if the child dies? What will a child think of me, scarred as I am? Will I frighten it?’
    ‘Good God, man, you do think too much. It’s ever been your problem. You have all the best in life – strength, honour, a beautiful wife, and soon the fruit of your union. Any other man