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If she saved a life, would God look more forgivingly on her? Slowing to peer at each of the shacks housing Nicaea’s indigent, Catherine mumbled, “Ragenard, if you can help me find him, I’d appreciate it. You owe me.” Not letting her sleep without bloody memories of him and his brother. And the guilt. Mother Mary, she couldn’t wait to be absolved of the guilt.

  “Did you say something?”

  “No. Shh.” Heavyhearted, she stopped, closed her eyes, and opened her mind. Gaston. Gaston. Gaston.

  As sometimes happened, but not always, she knew where to look.

  “Was that a spell?” Payen, directly behind her, pushed his hair from his brow.

  “A prayer.” Of sorts. “We will find Gaston in that house there.” She started to walk.

  “Wait.” Payen pulled back on her arm so she bumped into his solid chest. “How do you know? Did you see him?”

  “I just know.” Catherine blinked, not caring if he believed her.

  Ragenard hadn’t delved too deeply into why she sometimes knew things. Their marriage had been more physical than a sharing of conversations and feelings.

  Maybe Payen could satisfy her mind as well as her body. She shook Payen’s arm loose before she tried to hold his hand. “I would like to bring him back to the inn before dark.”

  “You expect to barge into that dilapidated excuse for a shack and bring the boy out? How do you know he doesn’t have a large brute of a father and six hulking older brothers just lying in wait for some crazed female to come calling? I won’t permit you to be so foolish.”

  “You won’t permit me? I am not yours to command, my lord. Again you underestimate my skills. Return to your business, and I will continue with mine.”

  “You might have need of my sword arm.”

  “I have no need of your company. He is a child.” Had the man not noticed the thin wrists? The malnourished frame?

  “I will accompany you and see this through to the end.” His tone brooked no argument.

  She sensed he held something back, but now was not the time to prod. She said, “The queen will find a position for him.” I hope.

  “I doubt she will thank you for it,” de Montfer said dryly, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Straightening to her full height, she was keenly aware of the absence of her weapon. “Please yourself.” The alley and area surrounding the rough wooden hut were crowded with piles of mysterious malodorous items. Catherine breathed through her mouth and forged on.

  De Montfer’s arm brushed her shoulder. She’d deny it with her last breath, but she was glad of his escort. He had the right of it: her small thief might very well be protected by men who had nothing to lose and everything to gain should they choose to take her. If she were to walk inside alone, she would be fair game. Especially without a weapon. She was grateful for de Montfer’s fighting skills; that was all.

  The din of rats scurrying, a dog barking, and the sharp cry of a babe masked any sounds coming from within. She knocked on the cracked wooden door, observing the dried grass stuffed into the chinks in the walls.

  Three grubby little faces greeted her.

  “Jocelyn, what did I say about opening the door?” Gaston said. He upturned his thin face, alarmed, then pulled the younger children behind him. “How did you find me?”

  “That isn’t important,” Catherine said, looking about the filthy home. “How many of you live here?”

  “I don’t have to tell you anything.” Gaston held the three younger children back behind his legs.

  He was correct, which brought Catherine up short. What right did she have to barge in and demand that Gaston leave with her, just because she wanted him to? What would they do with the other children? Who exactly was in charge here?

  “Hello again, Gaston,” Payen said from her right. “Are you the oldest?” He held the boy’s gaze. “I would like to have a conversation with you, man-to-man.”

  Man-to-man? Catherine was about to let Payen know what she thought of being excluded, but she saw Gaston respond with a nod. Men and women spoke different languages from the womb.

  “Step outside?” Payen crowded close to her shoulder.

  “I will talk from here.” The boy’s eyes hinted at his fear. “Nicky was the oldest, but him and Alexandros had to leave before he was hanged. Got caught stealing milk.” He gulped. “They told me to watch out for these three until they came back.”

  “How long ago was that?” Catherine said, her heart aching with empathy. Gaston suffered so much.

  “I don’t keep count of the days.”

  And why should he?

  “May we come in?” Payen said.

  Four boys under the age of eight, barely surviving in a hovel. Catherine felt like screaming at the unfairness of it all, but Payen merely asked if they could come in for a visit. Calm. Reasonable.

  Gaston, obviously taken aback by the polite question, sighed and stepped away from the door. “You might as well.”

  A few boxes apparently served as chairs and beds. The walls were bare, the floor warped and dirty. Catherine, deciding to imitate Payen’s stoic nature for the moment, smiled her thanks as she sat gingerly on the edge of a crate.

  The three younger boys stared with big eyes from behind Gaston’s thin legs.

  “And who are your friends?” Catherine said.

  “Timon, Demetre, and the youngest is Jocelyn.”

  As Gaston gave their names, the boys blinked, looking from her to Gaston to Payen, who must have seemed like a giant in their small home.

  “I am Lady Catherine,” she said quietly. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Payen put his hands behind his back, his stance braced.

  “And this is Lord de Montfer.”

  The boys’ eyes grew wider. All three had Greek eyes, dark and oval, and black curly hair. What should have been plump cheeks were gaunt, and Catherine wished for dozens of meat pies.

  “Would you all like to get something to eat?” she said.

  The boys looked to Gaston, who stared at her as if trying to understand. “I gave them food. They are all right for today.”

  Catherine cleared her throat. What exactly was she going to do? She couldn’t walk away now, pretending she’d never seen them. Queen Eleanor had helped her once upon a time; perhaps she would perform her magic again.

  “When did your father die, Gaston?”

  “The end of summer.”

  Gaston hadn’t been stealing long. A few months at the most. She could tell it wasn’t in his nature to be bad. Probably from being raised at a monastery. She made a decision. “I would like to introduce you to the queen.”

  Gaston’s jaw dropped. “Of France?”

  “Yes.” Catherine smiled.

  “Can the younger boys come too?”

  “If we can get everyone cleaned up, I will see what I can do.” She tapped her lower lip, looking around the dirty room. Did they even own a second set of clothes? “I will try my best. Gaston, have you gone to the church for aid?”

  “The priest wouldn’t say a prayer for my father. Said my father was a sinner.”

  Catherine looked to Payen, who was expressionless as he studied the boys.

  “Sinners need prayers most of all,” Payen said, his tone as serious as Gaston’s. “Was your father buried in the pauper’s cemetery?”

  Gaston nodded, his eyes welling before he bravely blinked the tears away.

  Catherine swallowed past the ache in her throat. How would she get them all to the inn? And looking relatively clean? “Lord de Montfer, are you willing to accompany us to meet Queen Eleanor?”

  He nodded. “But first, we need some of that awful soap.”

  Catherine started to laugh and couldn’t stop. “We will have to thank the soap merchant for providing such entertainment, though I doubt he will be glad to see me.”

  De Montfer smiled and the sight warmed her, creating emotion she wasn’t prepared to feel just yet. Perhaps never.

  While he and Gaston walke
d to the well for a bucket of water, Catherine took on the three youngest, who helped her find clothes. She made a game of it, so they wouldn’t be scared. She sat in the middle of the floor with a tunic on her head like a crown, pretending to be a princess. That was where she was when Gaston and Payen returned with their buckets.

  Payen stood at the door until she looked his way. His somber gaze held her in thrall. His kindness might be her undoing.

  “Would you have them come out here? There is still some light, though dusk comes quick. I think we best reach the inn before dark.”

  She nodded, gathering the boys.

  Gaston scrubbed their ears, necks, and faces. When they complained, he told them they must look sharp for the king and queen of France.

  Payen pulled her aside. “What will you ask of the queen? That she accepts guardianship of four small boys who are already thieves? We travel, and food is in short supply for those who serve her. You are too generous. For the last time, Catherine, give the boy coin and leave his sorry fate in God’s hands.”

  “God has much on His hands with this war. He wants me to help this boy.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  She was far from certain of how things would turn out. She only knew she had to try.

  Payen had never witnessed anything such as the way Catherine oversaw the boys’ preparations to see King Louis and Queen Eleanor. The four had shiny bright cheeks, smoothed hair, and mostly unstained tunics. Their feet were bare but clean. She had teased her way into the youngsters’ hearts. And threatened to do the same to his.

  The more he saw of Catherine, the more he realized she had a stalwart character to rival any man’s, despite the rare tears. He’d thought the women of the queen’s retinue frivolous, foolish. Now he’d observed Lady Catherine as a healer, mother, caretaker, protector.

  Lover?

  He shook the thought away. He’d promised his father to wed once he returned from crusade. A wife with a good name and money for the family coffers.

  A responsible choice and as unlike his brother’s as possible.

  Payen gave the tiny hut a last forage, certain nothing of worth remained, then escorted the children outside. They entered the dusky road with hesitant curiosity.

  “Come,” Catherine said, holding out her hands for the smallest boys. “Shall we count how many steps it takes to reach the inn?”

  The boys scrambled to her side, smiling.

  Gaston peered around.

  “Nobody will harm you,” Payen said, clasping the child’s thin shoulder.

  Had he thought Gaston beyond redemption? He felt a sting of remorse that he hadn’t seen what Catherine had at the beginning. What else had he missed? He prided himself on detail, but this child’s potential change of fate for the better was all the lady’s doing.

  He followed, admiring the thick braid that spilled down the back of her cloak, her hands holding the boys’ hands. What did her plan entail? She dressed simply in quality cloth as befitting a queen’s companion. She wore no visible jewelry. She was a widow but had shown no signs of searching for another husband. If anything, she played her part in the queen’s charade as demurely as possible, even while wearing men’s clothing and a sword.

  Perhaps she still mourned her husband. He understood loss far better than he understood love. He’d grieved when his beautiful mother left their family for another man and when his brother ran away, betraying king and country.

  And then he’d buried that pain to do what was right. Fight hard, act with integrity, and uphold what was left of the family honor.

  When they reached the inn, Catherine bent to kiss each boy on the cheek. “It is most fortunate to glimpse the queen and king. No matter what else happens this night, you will always have this moment to remember.”

  “Is the queen as pretty as you?” Gaston said.

  Lady Catherine whispered, “Prettier.”

  Payen de Montfer wondered if his disagreement could be counted as treason. He had never met anyone as beautiful as Catherine, including the queen.

  “Follow me. Do not be afraid. I will speak with them first on your behalf. You sit and have some cake. Mind your manners now.” She smiled. “They might be busy, but we can hope.”

  They walked inside the inn, and Payen wondered how the boys must feel. Overwhelmed, most likely. Warmth, bountiful food, finely dressed people. Their entire shack could fit in the corner.

  He saw Gaston tremble but resisted offering an encouraging hand. He glanced toward Catherine. Instead of coddling them, she whispered a reminder of how to behave and pushed them toward an empty table. She caught a passing servant and asked for cakes and watered wine for the children. She met his gaze.

  “What are you thinking?” he said.

  “The church is the best place for them. With Queen Eleanor’s help, perhaps I can pay for them to learn a trade.” She swallowed. “They are so young.”

  Payen stepped closer.

  Her fingers pressed beneath her throat, and she looked away.

  “Gaston will be miserable there,” he said.

  “I know. I think so too. Where else, then?”

  “An apprenticeship.” A baker, a soap maker. He could help. What else did he need to spend his money on?

  He looked back at the table, where Gaston ensured the other three behaved with stern looks and a cautioning small hand upon a shoulder or on top of a curly head. So young to be in charge, yet he had accepted the responsibility. Tall and sturdy, Gaston might make a good squire, Payen thought. He could train with Jacques.

  The more he considered the matter, the more he realized he didn’t want Gaston to go to the church and languish away from his homeland. It wasn’t the boy’s fault his priestly father had made poor choices, like lying with a local woman.

  Payen rarely went back on a decision, yet he was seriously reconsidering his original plan to leave this boy to his fate.

  He would see.

  Catherine noticed the queen’s drawn features right away. She sat next to Louis, hands squeezed together in her lap. Of all the times to ask a favor, this was clearly not the best.

  Odo and Thierry, the usual reason for the queen’s foul moods, sat on the bench beneath the dais. Odo’s thin face was pale, Thierry’s red.

  King Louis studied his fingernails.

  What had happened? Catherine looked to Payen, who also observed the royal pair. “Where is Emperor Conrad?” she whispered.

  Payen’s gaze lazily traveled the room. “I don’t see him. But that doesn’t mean anything. He could be resting. His injury was severe.”

  “True. Let’s ask Mamie what went on.”

  She didn’t wait for Payen but made her way through the subdued crowd. Some played dice or other table games. Ladies and knights mended gloves or hose, biding their time before the morning’s departure.

  She turned back. “I forgot,” she said to Payen, who was close behind. “Queen Eleanor said King Louis was to announce the journey and that she would wait for me. I hope I am not the cause of her”—she grasped for the right word—“upset.”

  Payen nodded. “We will know soon enough.”

  “Mamie!” She reached her friend, who conversed with a trio of handsome knights. “The room is so somber.”

  The young men watched with hopeful fascination as the redhead leaned forward. Mamie’s curls bounced as she shook her head. “Catherine, be grateful you disappeared. Bitter debate between Conrad and the king’s council grew loud enough to call attention to the discussion. The king wishes to leave in the morning, but they can’t decide which direction. Our queen offered a logical suggestion, which Odo tore asunder.” She heaved, stealing looks at the trio of men, whose gazes devoured her breasts. “Perhaps now that de Montfer is here, a decision can be made.”

  Payen nodded as if he had the power to make things better. Just how close were Payen de Montfer and the king of France?

  “Go. And take de Montfer with you. I would like some levity on our last night he
re. Music, mead, and men.” She tapped the forearm of each grinning knight. “Bring your instrument, Catherine. I will choose one of my own.”

  Hiding her smile, Catherine cleared her throat. She looked at Payen. “It is up to you and me, then. Are you ready to create a miracle?”

  “At your service,” he intoned with a half bow. “What is my lady’s pleasure?”

  “Aid for the boys, happiness for our lieges, and music for Mamie.” She sent him a teasing smile. For once, he returned the same. Her silly heart skipped, and she warned herself to take care.

  “Consider it done.” He took the lead, confidently approaching the dais. He slipped his cloak from his shoulders, slinging the blue cloth over his arm.

  Catherine hurried to his side.

  The king’s stiff posture relaxed as he noticed de Montfer.

  “Lady Catherine!” The queen’s strident voice carried, and the royal pretended to cough before lowering her voice. “We have been waiting for you to return. It must be the most precious black thread in all of Asia Minor.”

  Catherine edged closer to the dais, her cheeks heating. “I apologize for keeping you. I forgot the thread as well.”

  The king’s brows rose, and he sat forward on his cushioned chair. “Then where, de Montfer, have you both been?”

  This was not how she’d hoped to enlist Queen Eleanor’s aid. And to offend the king as well? The boys would be sent back to the hovel, hungry and hopeless.

  Non.

  She met the queen’s gaze, perhaps foolishly, but desiring her benevolence. “Queen Eleanor, you took me in during my darkest moment. Your generosity and kind spirit saw to my heart, body, and mind.”

  Eleanor nodded. “Go on.”

  “You are aware of my sensitivity, my feelings,” Catherine whispered, wishing she’d been able to speak with Eleanor alone. She felt the king’s gaze on her as well as Payen’s, Odo’s, and Thierry’s.

  “You have proven adept at intuiting situations.” Queen Eleanor’s stranglehold on her fingers loosened.

  “Witchcraft?” Thierry asked, straightening in his seat.

  “Non!” Catherine swallowed. Such accusations were the reason she kept her ability quiet. But she’d had to reveal it for Eleanor to understand.