Reaching the shelter, he stooped inside and crouched beside Amice. His dark cloak covered her from throat to feet, making her resemble a corpse on a bier. Her skin was waxen, her eye sockets the dark hollows of a skull. To one side there was a pile of bloodied rags made from a torn-up undershift.
For a moment his inner eye exchanged these cramped surroundings for the well-appointed bedchamber of his brother's keep at Ashbury, the fire built high, the huge walnut-wood bed dwarfing Emma's pale, still form. Her cold hands were wrapped around the cross that the priest had given her to hold in her dying moments and had it not been for the drained complexion, the bluish tinge in socket and cheekbone, she might have been asleep. Five years had passed, but the memory was still unbearable.
'Amice? Kneeling, he held her hand.
Turning her head, she forced her lids apart. Her fingers twitched and Oliver felt the cold strike through his own warm flesh.
'You know that Richard is the old King's son, she said in a thready whisper.
'Yes, of course I do. And what a scandal it had been at the time. A girl of sixteen and a man old enough to be her grandfather. People said that the troubles in England now were God's payback for Henry's fifty years of lechery.
'It has been so long. I do not know the roads you travel these days, but I ask… she swallowed. 'I ask you to take Richard to his kin at Bristol.
'I serve his uncle, Earl Robert, and I'm bound there of my own accord. You need not worry about the lad. I'll deliver him safe.
She gave him the ghost of a smile. 'I know you will. You were always steadfast, whatever the temptation.
He winced. She did not know how close he had come to yielding to that temptation.
'Emma saw it in you. I was jealous of her.
He cleared his throat and looked away; he did not want to think about Emma. 'It is in the past.
'It is as fresh as yesterday, she contradicted.
Oliver fought the urge to leap to his feet and stalk away. What she said was true. Despite the passage of time, some memories remained as sharp as glass. If Amice had been jealous of Emma, how much more had he envied Amice her life and her healthy child. Both might have been his had he chosen differently. Now, in place of envy there was weariness and the all-too-familiar sensation of guilt.
'There is one more boon I must ask of you while I yet have breath, Amice whispered.
Oliver clenched his jaw to withhold the snarl gathering within him. When he spoke, it was with great gentleness, his hand smoothing hers. 'Name it, and it is yours.
'Find a place at Bristol for Catrin too. She is a widow without family and she has been a loyal companion to me.
'As you wish.
'Nothing is as I wish. Amice smiled bitterly. 'Yesterday was better. She closed her eyes. 'In the garden, Emma and I…
Oliver set his hand against her throat. The pulse still beat there, but erratically. Her breath stirred the guard hairs on the wolfskin border of his cloak; then it didn't and her mouth fell open. Oliver released her hand and gently crossed it with the other one upon her breast. In the garden. Was that a reference to the past or where she was now?
Taking his cloak, he returned slowly to the fire where the living were gathered.
Catrin rose from her place beside the boy and hurried to meet him. Her eyes went from his face to the cloak draped over his arm and he saw the small shudder run through her body.
'I will tell the lad, he said quietly. 'Go and prepare her so that he can look at her if he wants.
Her gaze filled with hostility. 'It is not right. You are a complete stranger to him.
'Sometimes it is better that way. You will still be here to give him comfort, won't you? He nodded towards the small shelter. 'I'm sorry.
'Don't be! she snapped. 'You know nothing about us! Her face started to crumple and she pushed blindly past him.
Oliver frowned and smoothed the fur on his cloak. Perhaps his regret was for not knowing until it was too late. After a brief hesitation he went to the fire and took Catrin's place beside the boy.
'You don't need to tell me, Richard forestalled him. 'I know she's dead.
'Weep if you want. Oliver extended his hands to the flames, drawing life and warmth back into his body. Across the fire, Gawin poked the burning wood, sending flickers of yellow heat into the night sky.
'I don't feel like weeping, Richard said stiffly.
'It will come. Oliver took the flask of ginevra that Gawin stretched out to him, gulped a burning mouthful and passed it on to the boy. 'Sooner or later everyone has to weep.
Richard took the flask, drank, then choked on the fiery brew; but when he had ceased coughing, he put the flask to his lips and took a second, longer swallow. 'She is better dead.
Which was not the kind of remark for a ten-year-old to make about his newly deceased mother.
'Why do you say that? Oliver retrieved his flask before the boy could avail himself again.
Richard shrugged. 'She always had to ruin what she had, he said moodily.
When nothing else was forthcoming, Oliver broke the silence by murmuring, 'I knew her before you were born, when Earl Robert was her guardian.
'Did you lie with her like all the others?
Oliver's palm flew, but he stopped it just short of the boy's ear. Richard did not flinch, his stare blank and dark with misery. 'Christ, boy, what sort of question is that? Lowering his hand, Oliver wrapped it around his belt and drew a steadying breath. 'No, I did not lie with her, he said evenly. After all, it was the truth, no matter how easily he could have joined the ranks of 'all the others'. 'She was my wife's cousin and childhood companion. Last time I saw her was at your father's court when you were a tiny baby.
'We didn't stay there long, the child said in a savage voice. 'Did you know that she wasn't married to Aimery de Sens? He's just my most recent «papa», but of course he's dead now too.
Oliver's fingers tightened around his belt. He made a conscious effort to relax them. The boy's pain was a raw, open wound, hence the provocative tone, but what he said was probably true. Amice's nature had been inconstant and wanton as he had cause to know. Had she been male, she would have been granted a modicum of leeway, but as a woman she was damned as a whore. It was unfortunate if the boy had been a witness to the darker machinations of adult behaviour. 'No, I didn't know, he said, 'but it makes no difference to me. She was a friend, and she was kin by marriage.
Richard frowned and toyed with the frayed end of one of his leg bindings. 'What will happen to me now?
'As to that, I do not know. I told your mother that I would take you to your half-brother, Earl Robert, at Bristol. You will be cared for, I promise.
'Promises are easy. The boy's tone was far too adult for his years.
Oliver sighed and rubbed his hand over his jaw where the prick of red stubble was beginning to replace the morning's smoothness. 'Not to me, he answered, 'and not of this moment. I swore to your mother that I would see you safe, and do so I will. Catrin too.
'What if I don't want to go?
'Since I promised your mother, I suppose I would have to tie you to my saddle.
The boy threw him a look to see if he really meant it. Knowing that he was being tested, Oliver returned the look for long enough to impose his will, then rose to his feet. 'Do you want to see her?
Richard silently shook his head.
Oliver rubbed his jaw again in thought, then turned and stooped. 'Here, he said gruffly, 'roll yourself in my blanket and try to sleep. It will be a long journey on the morrow.
When Richard did not move, Oliver draped the blanket around the boy's shoulders himself and then went to check on the horses before walking a circuit of the burned-out settlement.
Kneeling beside her former mistress, all signs of the bloody struggle cleared away, Catrin sniffed and knuckled her eyes. She had been fond of Amice, who had taken her in, a soldier's widow with nothing more than two silver pennies and a roan mule to her name. For almost three years Catrin had sheltered beneath Amice's
