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be blessing Fortham Castle with his wise council till Christmas tide.”
    She turned her back on the litter, on Master Nicholas, quite resolutely. “Perhaps the abbot will prefer to ride in the litter. I find I’ve been longing for horseback.”
    Sir Richard emitted a short, heartless laugh. “I don’t doubt it, my lady. But even a holy father could be driven mad by that creature. If I can secure another mount, you will ride the rest of the way, but I can make no promises.”
    The jangle of bells signaled the descent of Nicholas from the wretched litter, and Julianna’s back stiffened instinctively. “You could always bind and gag me,” he suggested affably.
    “Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” Sir Richard said coolly. “Lady Julianna has only to say the word…”
    She couldn’t do it, tempted though she might be. She glanced back at the fool from beneath half-closed lids. “I was taught to be charitable toward the afflicted, Sir Richard,” she murmured. “Master Nicholas is, despite his mental infirmities, only a poor Christian like the rest of us.”
    The sound of bells accompanied something that might have been a cough, might have been a snort of laughter from the wretched creature. Julianna wasn’t about to find out. She moved away from him with as much haste as she could muster. “If I might have some privacy to refresh myself ?”
    One of the plump, berobed friars came forward with swift grace. “You do our house honor, my lady.”
    “I’ll eat with the abbot tonight, Brother Barth,” Sir Richard announced. “I’m certain Lady Julianna would prefer rest and solitude.”
    Anything was preferable to more time spent with Nicholas, so she simply nodded.
    “And Master Nicholas can be kept anywhere safe and clean,” Sir Richard continued.
    “Master Nicholas will spend the evening in repentance,” Nicholas announced in suitably humble tones. “I can sleep in the straw near the altar, happy to be near my Redeemer.”
    Brother Barth beamed at him. Sir Richard narrowed his eyes in doubt, but Nicholas simply ducked his head meekly.
     
    “My lord’s own wish is my dear art
    For promised longing draws my heart.”
     
    “Very nice,” Brother Barth murmured. But Julianna had the sudden strange notion that Nicholas and Brother Barth might have been talking about entirely different lords—one of this earth, one of heaven.
    It was no longer her concern. The room she was given was small and spare and clean, and she soon dropped down on the narrow bed, weary in every part of her body. She was past sleep, past hunger, capable of doing nothing but lying still, staring into the gathering dusk.
    The only sound was the rich tolling of the abbey bells, calling the monks to prayer, a far cry from the delicate tinkling of the fool’s silver bells. Common sense told her she’d be welcome to join, but exhaustion kept her still on the pallet. Besides, Nicholas had said he would spend the night in prayer. The very thought of trying to concentrate on her prayers while Nicholas stared at her out of those strange eyes was unsettling indeed.
    And she had no doubt he would stare, simply because he would know it bothered her. He was, in fact, a strange blessing. His presence was so annoying, he’d given her no chance to dwell on her current misfortunes. Her peaceful life had been shattered, and yet she’d had no chance to mourn it. Which was just as well. She’d learned as a child that weeping and bewailing one’s fate brought nothing more than a headache and a swollen face.
    It was Brother Barth who brought her dinner tray to her. The food was simple—cheese and brown bread and honey ale. Julianna realized she was famished.
    “Eat, my child,” Brother Barth said. “I’ve been instructed to bring the dishes back to the refectory when you finish, and the good abbot doesn’t like his orders disobeyed. If you prefer, I’ll wait in the hall…”
    “Please keep me company. Can I offer you any of this…