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imperially.
    “Nor is mine.” Helen copied the stubborn tilt of her friend’s chin.
    “They
don’t seem to mind us talking.” Sultry Lisette de Mornay had turned to smile boldly at the soldiers riding behind them.
    Chloe followed Lisette’s gaze and saw the nods and smiles that answered her overture. They certainly didn’t mind. But something made Chloe remember that Sister Archibald seemed to think that Sir Hugh took his duty to safeguard them quite seriously. Perhaps he had a reason beyond his own personal distaste.
    “I will speak with Sir Hugh when we stop for a rest and find out why he believes we’re in such danger.”
    Talk in the cart gradually returned to normal, except for volume, and centered on the rest of the journey and what lay ahead for them in London.
    “They say it is nothing like Paris,” Alaina said grimly. “It rains all of the time. I imagine the streets are always foul with mud.”
    “Surely not,” Margarete said, frowning. “It’s the king’s own city … surely there will be some fine roads and grand houses. There is a bishop in London, is there not? That means a great church, perhaps even a cathedral.”
    “They ship wool to other cities on the Continent,” Helen contributed a voice of reason. “So there must be a good bit of trading and some fine markets.”
    Lisette, who sat nearest the driver, turned impulsively and tapped the fellow on the shoulder. When he grunted and glanced her way, she smiled sweetly. “Have you been to London, Mattias?”
    How she knew his name, Chloe could only guess. Lisette had a way of learning such things. Chloe made a mental note to observe more closely Lisette’s methods of gathering information.
    “I ’ave,” the burly driver said, sitting a bit straighter.
    “Ooooh!
Would you tell us what it’s like?”
    “Wel-ll …”
    “Oh,
please,”
Lisette entreated in her most musical and compelling tones.
    A moment later she was rewarded by a nod, and she eagerly beckoned everyone else forward in the cart to hear.
    “There’s lots of folk there,” Mattias said, rubbing his bristled chin. “Some god-fearin’, an’ some wicked an’ shameless rascals. There’s houses stacked up like sheaves in a hayrick … set so close they lean out over the streets. An’ food—why there’s every thin’ to eat ye can think of. Stout ale on ever corner. Soft bread an’ pasties … meat pies, sweet cakes, an’ honey wafers … capons big as heifers … sows the size of oxen …”
    “And markets and shops? Are there good shoemakers?” Margarete asked.
    “And silk merchants and goldsmiths and furriers?” Alaina demanded.
    Mattias nodded. “Plenty of them … an’ more.”
    “Have you seen the king’s castle?” Chloe asked.
    “Windsor? That ain’t in London. But I been there. We camped just outside the bailey an’ walls, once.”
    “What’s it like?” Chloe held her breath, hungry for images to feed her imagination.
    “There’s a great round keep in th’ middle … sits up on a hill … wi’ good arrow slits and plenty o’ high walls around. Ye can see the country for miles around …”
     
    Hugh looked back to find that the cart and the wagons had fallen well behind the front of the escort party. As he rode back to see what was the matter, he found the maidens clustered at the front of the cart, beaming with interest as old Mattias rattled on about something. The driver had all but abandoned the reins, and the two mules were virtually ambling along at will. And if that weren’t bad enough, the men who were supposed to be maintaining a rear guard for the column had ridden up nearer the cart and were watching with great interest as the young “nuns” conversed with old Mattias.
    “Dammit.” He flinched at his profane lapse. He’d have more than usual to confess when he got back to the priest at Windsor. “Mattias!” He drew his horse up with a jerk. “What the devil do you think you are doing?”
    “Sarr!” The driver