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her face with a wet cloth. "A woman's lover ought not to have to hold a basin for her whilst she vomits -"
    "Do not talk rubbish," he said and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. "The pleasure was mutual, so it is only fair that the penance be mutual, too."
    He spoke in jest, but that was how Claudine did view her pregnancy: as penance. He was stroking her hair, smoothing it away from her face, and she blinked back tears. "Do you think we will reach Oxford by nightfall, Justin?"
    Oxford was not much more than thirty miles from Windsor, a distance Justin could easily have covered in one day. But they'd ridden only twenty-three miles yesterday and that had exhausted Claudine. "I think so," he said, hoping he did not sound as doubtful as he felt, for travel accommodations could not be left to chance, not when his traveling companion was gently born and pregnant.
    Her thoughts had obviously been following the same route as his, for she said, with sudden determination, "We will just have to, won't we? But where will we stay in Oxford? It was safe enough to spend the night here at Windsor, but I do not want it known that I was so close to the nunnery at Godstow, for someone could connect gossip like that with my disappearance from court. So that eliminates both the castle and the king's house. Nor can I go to St Mary's Abbey, for I've met Abbot Hugh."
    It occurred to Justin that his life had been much simpler prior to his involvement with Claudine. She was gazing up at him with a worried frown and he smiled reassuringly. "I promise, love, that you'll not have to sleep in the street."
    Some fourteen hours later, though, he was not so sure about that. Due to Claudine's resolve and the lingering daylight of high summer, they had reached Oxford by dusk. The Wednesday market was just breaking up, and the streets were still crowded around the Carfax, the city's ancient crossroads. Leaving Claudine with their horses, Justin went in search of the closest inn. As Oxford was a prosperous town with more than five thousand citizens and a thriving university community, he was utterly taken aback to be told there were no inns. Making his way back to Claudine, he realized how easily he'd been spoiled by living in London, honeycombed with inns, cook shops, taverns, and alehouses, and he marveled anew at the vast changes his life had undergone since that December night when he'd finally learned the truth about his paternity
    Not the least of those changes was waiting for him in the churchyard of St Michael's. Claudine was attracting more than her share of attention, for she was fair to look upon, fashionably dressed, obviously a gentlewoman. She usually enjoyed creating such a stir, but now she seemed oblivious to the admiring glances being cast her way. Her face was pallid, her exhaustion evident in the drooping eyelids, down-turned mouth, and dejected slump of her shoulders. She managed a wan smile, though, as Justin drew near, even a small, irreverent joke. "Please do not tell me that there is no room at the inn."
    "Worse than that, love. There is no inn at all, just lodgings for students from the university."
    Claudine groaned. "Oh, no... now what? I seem to remember a nunnery here from a past visit..."
    "I was told it burned in the great fire of three years ago. But I have found us a bed for the night, Claudine. A family on Carte Street has agreed to take us in - for a generous sum, of course."
    Claudine opened her mouth to speak, then thought better of it. Justin could guess what she'd been about to say. The highborn did not take shelter at inns when they traveled. While monastery guest halls were always open to wayfarers and pilgrims, those of Claudine's class were accorded special status, often the honored guests of the abbot himself. If not an abbey or priory, there was usually a castle in the vicinity, and a welcome assured whether the castellan was known to them or not, for rank and blood were the keys to the kingdom. So Claudine was