the shadow of the thick stone walls. There was a murder hole in the arch here that could pour down pitch or scorching sand. . . .
But nothing fell, and beyond in the bailey the garrison stood in two rigid lines, awaiting him.
They looked scared to death.
As well they might.
Some of the weight slid from Galeran's shoulders. This part, at least, was going to be all right.
He rode into their midst, halted, and dismounted, the jingle of harness and rattle of his mail the only sounds. Signaling to his men to stay on their horses just in case, he slowly, silently, looked around.
Beyond the rigid, pale-faced soldiers, the castle folk hovered nervously, women clutching wide-eyed children, old people staring with predictions of suffering in their weary eyes.
Where was Jehanne?
She wouldn't be with the peasantry. If this were a normal homecoming, she would be on the keep steps waiting to give him a formal welcome. She might even be running down into the bailey to greet him with a smile and an edged comment denied by glowing eyes.
She was nowhere to be seen.
If she had fled with her lover, should he let her go?
Not if she'd taken his son.
The dense silence pressed on him, almost strangling speech, but he swallowed and raised his voice. "Does anyone here not accept me as his liege, as lord of this demesne?"
Silence answered him, but silence lightened by hope.
Galeran wanted only to ask about Jehanne, to race into the castle and search for her, but he had a part to play here. He moved with dignity to the steps and mounted to the second.
Before he could speak again, a man came forward and knelt at his feet, bare head bent. Walter of Matlock, captain of the garrison. "Lord Galeran, be merciful. We were left in your lady's command, and had word you were dead. We served as we thought right."
"Rise, Walter. No man will suffer for having obeyed my lady as he was bid."
The sergeant-at-arms rose and Galeran saw tears of relief in his eyes. In wanting to give Lowick time to escape, he'd inflicted a night of fear on these men and on their families.
He went quickly down the steps and kissed Walter lightly on the cheek, the kiss of peace. "It is as it was, Walter. There is no need even for a renewal of oaths." He spoke loud enough to be heard, and relief rippled through the bailey like a breeze. People started to mutter, and as if released from constraint, a child cried.
"I assume none of Lowick's men are here," Galeran said quietly.
"They left in the night, my lord." Walter flashed him a look. "We didn't try to stop them."
Galeran even found a smile for that. "Wise man."
He didn't want to ask, but had to in the end. "And the Lady Jehanne?"
The man's face went carefully blank. "Awaits you in the hall, I believe, my lord."
Another weight slid from Galeran's shoulders, leaving him light, almost too light. It was hard to think, hard even to feel in solid contact with the ground beneath his feet.
But Lowick was gone, and Jehanne was here. Perhaps something could be done to put the pieces together again.
He turned to Raoul and his men. "Stay here, care for the horses, settle in.
Oh, and send word back to my father that all is well and he may enter when it pleases him."
Then, as the sun burst up to bring a new day, Galeran climbed the wooden stairs to the entrance of his keep.
To walk into the hall was to walk back into chill and gloom, though the first shafts of golden light criss-crossed from the narrow windows. For a moment he was blind, and when his dogs fawned around him, he had not seen them coming.
He greeted them, for that at least was a simple matter and gave him a little time.
Then he looked up and saw a bunch of women in one corner - Jehanne's women. His wife, however, stood apart in the center of the large chamber, her own two black hunting dogs by her side. She wore her favorite colors - -blue and cream - and her long hair was disciplined into thick, neat plaits bound with blue ribbons to match her eyes. She stood there calmly, as if waiting to greet a stranger with neither excitement nor fear.
But then, Jehanne never gave away more than she intended.
A lump lodged at the top of Galeran's throat, and he wanted quite desperately to crush