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“Not something I would choose,” he said with a shudder.

“I’ve considered it.”

“You? A nun?” He looked at her, slack-jawed. “Is that what you intend?”

“I’ve no idea what I intend,” she said. “I have no skills, nothing of value to offer anyone. I am a lord’s daughter, born to be a wife, mother, and chatelaine, but I have no talent for any of those things either.”

“Oh, Aliénore,” he said, shaking his head with a sad smile, “surely you undervalue yourself.”

“You aren’t familiar with my lack of skills—especially my stitching. I am as inept at that as I am at swordplay.”

“Think you that is all a man wants?” he asked. “A woman who can sew a straight seam?”

Ali sighed. “I don’t know what a man wants, and it hardly matters anyway as I now have no man to want me. I have coin, at least some, but no idea what to do with it.”

He stroked the rim of his cup for several moments in silence, staring down at it, then he raised his head and looked at her. “You know,” he said carefully, “I would trust Colin of Berkhamshire with my life.”

“You didn’t flee a betrothal from him.”

“True enough.” He looked at her and laughed suddenly. “But now look at you. First his bride, now his liege-man. I daresay, Aliénore, that you have traded downward in your choice of obligations to our lord from Berkhamshire.”

“I’ll judge that later.”

“I can judge it now. You’ve never seen Sir Colin in full flush in the lists. I don’t envy you the pleasure.”

She scowled at him as he rose. “Have you anything else cheery to add, my lord, or will that suffice you for the day?”

“Give me time,” he said, holding out his hand and pulling her to her feet. “Let us find some way to amuse ourselves today. I’ve no doubt Colin will have you at your labors at first light tomorrow.” He pulled back the curtain, then paused. “Did you hear the door close just now?”

“Nay, I did not.”

He hesitated, then shrugged and looked down at her with a smile.

“I was mistaken. Let us be about your final day of leisure. You’ll think back on it fondly when Colin has left you in the dirt continually for a fortnight or two before he announces that you may someday learn which end of the sword points away from yourself. ”

“Do you intend by that to buoy me up, or convince me that the life of a nun is the one for me?”

He put his arm around her shoulders and led her to the door.

“Learning a bit of swordplay is always a very useful thing, even for a nun. Besides, it will give us ample time to discover what it is you would truly care to do with your life. A pity, though, that Colin can’t know you. He would admire your courage.”

“What there is of it.”

He paused at the door and looked down at her seriously. “I know of few men who would have the courage, the determination, or the wit to hide for as long as you have. Can you see Colin in skirts for that long?”

“Subterfuge can hardly be a life’s work,” she said.

He smiled down at her. “You would be surprised. I should tell you of my father’s grandfather, a spy for the French king.

Do you know that he hid for several decades in the guise of a nun?

With his lady wife as his abbess? Indeed, there would be many in my family who would be offended did you tell them that subterfuge is a small thing. ”

She swallowed with difficulty. “I don’t think I could spend the rest of my life spying.”

“’Tis but one thing to consider, and it is something you’re quite good at, apparently.

We’ll put it at the top of our list. Whilst Colin has at you in the lists, I’ll give your life’s work a bit more thought.

Perhaps at the end of each day, we’ll review the possibilities and see if any suit you.

You’ll be wanting to lie down on the floor and rest anyway, and no doubt listening will be all you’re capable of. ”

He was taller than she, but not so tall that he couldn’t be flicked on the ear, which she saw to without hesitation.

She received nothing but a grin and wink in return, and somehow that cheered her.

Ah, that she might have had a brother such as this.

Perhaps if she’d had, she would have found herself wed to a man who would have cared for her.

Not facing the prospect of being the garrison knight of someone who would surely hate her did he but know who she was.

“Come, my friend,” Jason said, pulling her out of the chamber. “To the battlements. ’Twill likely be the last day you’ll have the strength to get yourself up to them.”

“You, my lord, have a passing unpleasant sense of the jest.”

“I wasn’t jesting.”

Which was exactly what she feared. But as she walked with Jason of Artane up to the roof, she found that her heart was, for the first time in months, almost light.

So she would find herself facing Colin of Berkhamshire in the lists quite soon.

It could have been worse. She could have been facing him in front of a priest. She could have been facing Marie over a sharp blade.

She could have been facing Sir Etienne over his fists.

“Alewife,” Jason muttered to himself. “Midwife. Pig-herder’s wife.”

Pig-herder’s wife?

Being Colin’s garrison knight was beginning to sound almost appealing.

She studiously avoided thinking about the truth of it. She was going to soon be facing over blades the most feared man in England, and likely France, and to take that lightly was sheer folly. She would have to be careful, watch every step, consider every word.

And pray that she could survive the encounters.