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with a startled gasp, that it was not a guard at all. ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded, almost angry that even up here on the wall walk in the dead of night there was no escape.
    Heulwen stared at him, her eyes wide with surprise. He could see the starlit gleam of their whites. ‘I came here to think,’ she said a little breathlessly. ‘It’s open here; your thoughts are not squashed by walls.’ She considered him, her head cocked on one side. ‘And you?’
    ‘I came for solitude,’ he said harshly, then swore beneath his breath. ‘I’m being a churl again, aren’t I?’
    He sensed the deepening of her smile. ‘Yes, you are.’
    ‘I - I had a nightmare, and my squire was making a fuss.’ He looked down. ‘I don’t remember what happened, and I don’t believe I want to.’ He shivered, the hairs on his forearms standing straight up.
    ‘At least yours was only a dream.’ She turned, putting down the hood of her cloak so that her face emerged, framed in the silvery nocturnal light.
    Adam swallowed. Her hair was exposed, braided in a thick plait ready for bed, its glorious colour cooled and muted by the starlight. His mind and body blended into one dull ache. ‘I know you grieve deeply for Ralf,’ he said unsteadily.
    One side of her mouth turned up. ‘Ralf !’ she exhaled mockingly. ‘Jesu God, I’ve been grieving for years, but not for him.’ She glanced at him quickly. ‘I had to have him, Adam, whatever the cost. Do you know what it is to burn? I don’t suppose you do. Well, I burned until everything turned to ashes, and if I have taken it badly, it is because that is all I have left.’ She rubbed her arms within her miniver-lined mantle.
    Adam, who knew precisely what it was to burn, could only stare at her, burning still, barred from touching. ‘Heulwen, I . . .’
    ‘No, don’t commiserate.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘I don’t think I could bear it, and besides, it doesn’t suit you.’ She laid an impulsive hand on his sleeve. ‘Look Adam, I know it’s late, and I know you came here for solitude, but there is a matter sorely troubling me, and I need to talk to someone.’
    He gnawed his lip, desiring to deny her and bolt for the safety of the restless bed from which he had so recently absconded, but he was powerless to refuse the pleading note in her voice He looked down at her hand gripping his. It was slender and long-fingered, the feminine image of her father’s and adorned on the wedding finger by a ring of braided gold.
    ‘How could I refuse?’ he asked with a grim smile, and wished he knew the answer.
     
    The wine made a musical sound as she poured it into two goblets of trellised glass. The candles were reflected in the bronze flagon, which had a handle shaped like a dragon’s head, the eyes inlaid with garnets and the tongue curling between sharply incised fangs. An embroidery frame stood near the brazier and he went to peruse the boldly worked pattern. It was the hem of a man’s tunic, sewn with couchant leopards in thread of gold on a dark woollen background. Lady Judith’s work, he thought, recognising the style. Heulwen had never owned the patience for more than the most rudimentary needlecraft.
    ‘It’s a new court robe for my father.’ She handed him the wine. ‘He’ll be needing it, if what I heard is true.’
    ‘That all the tenants-in-chief are summoned to swear for Matilda, you mean? Yes, it’s true.’
    ‘Ralf said something about it before he was killed. About Matilda being our future queen.’
    Adam swallowed a mouthful of his wine to be polite, and put the cup down. ‘It was fairly obvious once Henry summoned her from Germany.’
    Heulwen gave him an appraising look. ‘There was more to it than that. He knew something, and it was setting him on edge. I asked him to tell me, but he laughed and said that it was nothing - patted me on the head like a dog, and rode away to his death.’ She paused as if debating whether to take the final step,