as he stood and stretched. "Melancholy, no."
He went to stand by the great central hearth that heated the room. The constant fire burned low for the
moment. He gestured to the boy whose job it was to tend it and watched the lad scurry forward with a
supply of fresh logs. The trestle tables had been taken down after the morning meal, leaving plenty of
space in the center of the room. As flames roared up, Simon stepped back from the stone rim that
circled the firepit. He looked up as thin streams of smoke began to curl toward the louvered openings in
the ceiling, then spread out like a mist across the upper air since the louvers were closed against a cold
autumn rain.
The season was hurrying on too fast for Simon's taste. He used to enjoy fall. The turning of the leaves,
the harvest, the feasting had all been a pleasant marker of his prosperous household's transition to the
quieter winter life. Now, with no peace in his heart, and only one last battle to fight come spring, the
prospect of the coming winter brought no sense of serenity.
All he had wanted was to get the season over with, to get through the interminable cold, dark days
with the mindless round of habit. He'd thought to get by with the fixed winter occupations of church and
chess, wine and hunting. He hadn't expected anything more between the first frost and the spring thaw.
Now he had Diane.
He wasn't even sure what that meant. He didn't want to think about it. Fortunately, he was spared
from having his thoughts spin toward the darkly lovely, mysterious Diane, when a cold, damp wind
alerted him to the opening of the hall's outer door. He turned to see Sir Joscelin coming toward him.
"You looked soaked to the skin," Simon observed as the young knight handed his cloak to a servant.
Joscelin joined him by the fire. After he tucked his gloves in his belt, he held his hands out toward the
flames. "The rain made the ride from Domiere a misery. I left Lady Alys in good hands at the abbey," he
added. "The abbess will send word of just who comes to fetch her."
"Perhaps she'll take the veil," Simon suggested.
The knight gave him a shocked look, then smiled when he realized Simon was joking. "I have my own
opinion, my lord." He looked around, as though wary of being overheard. "If you wish to hear it, that is,"
he added quietly.
Simon rubbed his thumb thoughtfully over the pommel of his dagger hilt. Now, here was a new thing.
Joscelin had always seemed trustworthy, good-hearted as well, though Simon no longer had much faith in
his own judgment in these matters. Was Joscelin thoughtful and observant, as well as loyal?
Simon cocked an eyebrow in question. "If you're about to tell me you don't think Alys spied only for
my son, I would have to say I agree with you. She's a greedy child," Simon told him. "I'll miss her."
"But my lord—"
"She and her brother were informers I knew about. I'll have to ferret out whoever will replace them."
"Your people are true to you, my lord!" Joscelin protested.
"Except for those who revolted against me last summer."
Joscelin looked away, blushing. "Yes, but—"
Simon clamped a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Even the king's sons revolted last summer.
Perhaps it was something in the air. Or some new courtier's fashion for sons to repudiate their fathers.
We at Marbeau have always followed court fashion." He heard the bitterness in his voice, and looked
around quickly for another subject to share with the embarrassed young knight.
As he glanced up he saw Jacques coming down the stairs from the tower entrance. Diane trailed
slowly behind him. A serving woman followed her, blocking any hasty retreat back up the narrow
staircase that the reluctant Diane might wish to make. The old wizard was no doubt bringing the young
woman to him for the sake of beginning this therapeutic romance.
Simon frowned hard at the old man, but his attention still focused on Diane as she drew near. His
glance was drawn to
He went to stand by the great central hearth that heated the room. The constant fire burned low for the
moment. He gestured to the boy whose job it was to tend it and watched the lad scurry forward with a
supply of fresh logs. The trestle tables had been taken down after the morning meal, leaving plenty of
space in the center of the room. As flames roared up, Simon stepped back from the stone rim that
circled the firepit. He looked up as thin streams of smoke began to curl toward the louvered openings in
the ceiling, then spread out like a mist across the upper air since the louvers were closed against a cold
autumn rain.
The season was hurrying on too fast for Simon's taste. He used to enjoy fall. The turning of the leaves,
the harvest, the feasting had all been a pleasant marker of his prosperous household's transition to the
quieter winter life. Now, with no peace in his heart, and only one last battle to fight come spring, the
prospect of the coming winter brought no sense of serenity.
All he had wanted was to get the season over with, to get through the interminable cold, dark days
with the mindless round of habit. He'd thought to get by with the fixed winter occupations of church and
chess, wine and hunting. He hadn't expected anything more between the first frost and the spring thaw.
Now he had Diane.
He wasn't even sure what that meant. He didn't want to think about it. Fortunately, he was spared
from having his thoughts spin toward the darkly lovely, mysterious Diane, when a cold, damp wind
alerted him to the opening of the hall's outer door. He turned to see Sir Joscelin coming toward him.
"You looked soaked to the skin," Simon observed as the young knight handed his cloak to a servant.
Joscelin joined him by the fire. After he tucked his gloves in his belt, he held his hands out toward the
flames. "The rain made the ride from Domiere a misery. I left Lady Alys in good hands at the abbey," he
added. "The abbess will send word of just who comes to fetch her."
"Perhaps she'll take the veil," Simon suggested.
The knight gave him a shocked look, then smiled when he realized Simon was joking. "I have my own
opinion, my lord." He looked around, as though wary of being overheard. "If you wish to hear it, that is,"
he added quietly.
Simon rubbed his thumb thoughtfully over the pommel of his dagger hilt. Now, here was a new thing.
Joscelin had always seemed trustworthy, good-hearted as well, though Simon no longer had much faith in
his own judgment in these matters. Was Joscelin thoughtful and observant, as well as loyal?
Simon cocked an eyebrow in question. "If you're about to tell me you don't think Alys spied only for
my son, I would have to say I agree with you. She's a greedy child," Simon told him. "I'll miss her."
"But my lord—"
"She and her brother were informers I knew about. I'll have to ferret out whoever will replace them."
"Your people are true to you, my lord!" Joscelin protested.
"Except for those who revolted against me last summer."
Joscelin looked away, blushing. "Yes, but—"
Simon clamped a hand on the younger man's shoulder. "Even the king's sons revolted last summer.
Perhaps it was something in the air. Or some new courtier's fashion for sons to repudiate their fathers.
We at Marbeau have always followed court fashion." He heard the bitterness in his voice, and looked
around quickly for another subject to share with the embarrassed young knight.
As he glanced up he saw Jacques coming down the stairs from the tower entrance. Diane trailed
slowly behind him. A serving woman followed her, blocking any hasty retreat back up the narrow
staircase that the reluctant Diane might wish to make. The old wizard was no doubt bringing the young
woman to him for the sake of beginning this therapeutic romance.
Simon frowned hard at the old man, but his attention still focused on Diane as she drew near. His
glance was drawn to
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