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could actually have her. It was a natural response, etched into men by the most ancient of gods. Encouraging it was a kind of sacrament, an homage to the dance between body and soul. And, of course, a useful political tool for a woman surrounded by men.
    But for all that, he was a sharp fellow, Sweyn. The first year of his earldom, he was malleable as clay and blushed through numerous erections Godiva pretended not to notice. The second year, he was a little cannier, and it required a brushing of her skirt against his outer thigh to get his full attention. Even then, she had failed to dissuade him from aligning himself with a certain Welsh prince whom Leofric detested. This year, his third in power, she’d had to be extremely forward when confronting him about the border violations. But eventually she’d coaxed from him that subtle arching of the hips, which always meant she could now press her advantage and get what she was after.
    Now, he was arching his hips directly in Edgiva’s direction, and Edgiva was not even looking at him.
    She was not looking at him for the same reason that he was arching his hips at her.
    Godiva had not seen it coming, but nothing under heaven was clearer to her. As a witness, she found it intoxicating. Excitement fluttered in her stomach, and she wished Leofric were there to hold her round the middle.
    â€œI was telling Edgiva that if she follows your advice and creates a formal petition, I will help persuade the thanes and lesser earls to put their mark to it,” she offered, interrupting their discussion.
    Sweyn gave her the weary smile of the vanquished. “I predict you will be effective,” he said.
    Godiva fluttered her lashes at him playfully. Edgiva, still examining the ground, asked, “Are you fluttering your lashes now, Godiva?”
    â€œWould you be disappointed if I weren’t?”
    â€œNot really,” Edgiva said.
    There was a silence, uncomfortable to earl and abbess, entertaining to Godiva. Somewhere across the courtyard, a goose honked suddenly, and several voices laughed in reaction.
    â€œWell. I must find Leofric and Alfgar,” Godiva said suddenly. “I bid you both Godspeed.”
    â€œI shall go with you,” Edgiva said anxiously, her pitch rising almost to regular female tones. “I must thank Leofric for his support as well.” She excused herself from Sweyn, having never once turned in his direction.
    Godiva strode off through the crowded yard, intending to exit the manor property and stroll around the green, where she supposed her menfolk would be. It would be a wonderful change from the cooping-up of the last few days. There would likely be as many pigs as people in the streets, but at least the pigs would make less noise and smell more wholesome. And there would be trees and other reassurances of the natural world to keep the spectacle of human politics in perspective.
    Edgiva followed close beside her.
    â€œHe is in deep,” Godiva said, with a mischievous glance at Edgiva. The abbess’s face paled.
    â€œWhat mean you?” she demanded.
    â€œSweyn. He is utterly in love with you.”
    The abbess looked panicked and crossed herself. “That is terrible,” she said, avoiding Godiva’s eyes. “I am an abbess; it is terrible.”
    â€œYes, it is terrible that you’re an abbess, since that will complicate your marrying him.”
    Not quite to the manor gate, Edgiva stopped midstride and all her weight shifted to her back foot. “What?”
    Godiva turned to her, smiling. “Edey, it is plain as wheat. There is a glow around the two of you. The spirits of the unborn babes who want you as their parents are shrieking at you to disrobe.”
    This brought an extraordinary look to Edgiva’s face; Godiva had never so successfully horrified her.
    â€œHow can you say that to me?” Edgiva finally hissed, and her face crumpled.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Godiva said