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The woman was clearly
being sarcastic. "Of course not. But at least I was not manhandled
by ruffians. At least I was left alone to pray."
    Princesa waddled to the bench and sat.
"Before I came here I was a bondslave. As a young girl, I was
captured by a rich nobleman. He kept me in chains. I was beaten and
tortured daily for his entertainment. I had run away many times,
but he always found me again." She sighed. "I'll let you into a
secret, Jeanne. I say my prayers every day, but up here," she
tapped two fingers to her brow, "and here," then she placed them to
her heart. "I thank god for sending me to Raul d'Anzeray, for that
man saved me from a life of misery. He brought me here where I am
loved and treasured by seven fine men, where I have good food and
warm clothes. And friendship. This place you hate, Jeanne, has
saved my soul."
    She had not known Princesa's history
and hearing it stated now so matter-of-factly was shocking. The
woman glowed with an abundance of good health and happiness. It was
hard to believe she had once been abused so badly. That she had
ever been a slave.
    "And Aelfa," she continued softly,
"had a husband who raped and beat her with his fists. Then one day
she met Sebastien d'Anzeray and he rescued her."
    Jeanne swallowed, but her throat was
dry. "I did not know."
    Princesa smiled again. "So you see,
those men may not be angels and perhaps they do not pray to god,
but they have done good things. Sometimes I wonder if they even
know what they have done. Perhaps it is entirely by accident that
they saved us. But I know we shall always be glad of it. I have
heard it said that god works in mysterious ways." She
laughed.
    Slowly Jeanne sat up, but leaned on
her hip to save her sore bottom. "He does."
    "Well, if I were you, Jeanne, I would
stay out of Salvador's way for a while and say my prayers inside
from now on. I have a feeling god will still hear you."
    She nodded.
    Princesa slid an arm around her waist.
"I think Ram is quite taken with you."
    Her cheeks hot, she stared at the
other woman. "What?"
    "Carrying you in his arms so
gallantly. I did not think he had it in him."
    "I cannot think what you mean." She
stood, slipping out of the other woman's warm embrace. "He carried
me because he felt guilty. As well he should."
    Princesa shrugged. "Perhaps. But men
do not think as we do. They seldom consider what they do before
they act. With them it is all instinct. And his instinct was to
carry you in his arms."
    Not knowing what else to say, thinking
the pregnant woman was simply dreaming among the daisies again,
Jeanne thanked her and then hurried out of the stillroom. It was a
sad state of affairs that the females in this place should find one
single kind act by a man so weighty in its significance. Yet Jeanne
had to admit it was strange. Even stranger that in his arms she had
felt secure for once. Which was ridiculous.
    She could not reconcile her sense of
wounded pride with the throbbing excitement that had overtaken her
as Ram spanked her bottom in the courtyard, and while Salvador held
her down, exposing her private regions to the entire castellany. It
was all too confusing. And Princesa's confession about praying
stuck in her mind, wedged there in the midst of it all. God
certainly did work in mysterious ways if this was his idea of
"saving" women, she thought peevishly.
    Jeanne had seen Princesa run out to
greet Raul d'Anzeray recently when he returned from fighting Saxon
rebels. The couple had embraced heatedly, but also lovingly. Raul,
tired and dirty, had allowed Princesa to wash his face with water
from the well and then he'd kissed her tenderly, deeply. Of course,
Princesa was shared between all the brothers so no one knew which
was the father of her child, but Raul had petted her stomach and
kissed it, his silver eyes shining so vividly that the color could
be seen clear across the yard. It had struck Jeanne as romantic, in
that moment.
    But she had quickly chastised herself
for such