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disturbed by her encounter with her mother and the impending loss of Roger's company, Eleanor sought out her half-brother for comfort. In spite of Lady Mary's hatred, he resided in a cupola cut into the heavy wall of Gilbert's chamber, and Eleanor thought to find him there. As she rounded the final steps, she could hear the voices of strangers. Probably someone was waiting to see her father.
    "Demoiselle!" It was a startled Prince Henry that spun to face her. The Old Conqueror sat wet-headed on a low bench by the fire as he struggled with his heavy boots.
    "Eh? The Demoiselle, you say?"
    Eleanor mistook his surprise for irritation. Stammering out an explanation even as she swept a hasty curtsy, she managed, "Y-your pardon, Your Grace, b-but I thought to find my b-brother here." She gulped for control of her thudding heart. She had intruded at an awkward time at best. Lamely she explained, "He lives there," as she pointed to the tiny alcove.
    "Come here, child." Even as he commanded her, William rose and strode toward her. "Let me look at you again." His fingers lifted her chin, allowing her freshly combed hair to fall back like a parting silk curtain. Her clear brown eyes stared unwavering back at him. She was neither cowed nor overly bold. Finally the old duke threw back his head and laughed aloud, to her puzzlement.
    "God's teeth, but you are a rare find, Demoiselle. Warriors cringe when I look upon them—yet you look back." He stepped back and dropped his hand as his eyes traveled to the slight swelling of young breasts. Abruptly he asked, "Have you had your courses yet?"
    An embarrassed flush crept to her cheeks and she lowered her eyes. Prince Henry sought to intervene by protesting, "Really, Papa—" but William continued to wait for an answer.
    Finally she nodded her head. "Aye. Once."
    "Papa—"
    "Be still, Henry. I would get to know the child." With his black eyes still on Eleanor, he continued his questioning. "How soon will you reach your thirteenth year?"
    "September."
    "You have such beauty, little one." William's raspy voice softened. "But only time can tell if it is God's gift or nature's curse."
    "Nay, only God could create such perfection. When she is grown, there will be none fairer in Christendom." Henry moved behind his father's shoulder. "Pay my father no heed, Demoiselle—'tis not his intent to frighten you."
    "She is not frightened—she knows I would not harm her." William continued his inspection. "Art delicately boned and small. Such a one was my Mathilda—she came but to here on me." He indicated a place on his chest that made Eleanor think the late duchess must have been very small indeed. "She gave me three living sons and five daughters, God rest her soul. With a gentle nudge to Eleanor, William nodded toward Henry. "What think you of my son?"
    Eleanor frowned in puzzlement at the strange line of questioning. Raising her eyes to look at the prince she found him smiling reassurance at her. In response her own face broke into a soft smile as she answered his father, "I think you have a prince to be proud of Sire."
    William roared at her answer, puzzling her ever more. "God's teeth, Henry! We have found us a diplomat!" He gave her head a paternal pat. "Well, don't stand there gaping—help her find that brother of hers." As Eleanor made her obeisance before leaving, the old man added, "And tonight, Demoiselle, you sup with us."
    She followed Henry down the steep and narrow stone steps and into the courtyard. At the last step, the prince turned to tuck her hand in the fold of his elbow. The eyes of the curious followed them,
Normandy
's son and Nantes' daughter, across the open yard. The prince appeared at his most charming and her laughter could be heard floating upward to where William watched. At the lean-to that housed Nantes armory, Henry paused.
    "You'll find him within, Demoiselle. My father would have him fitted with a good set of mail and helm ere we leave. And your father has commissioned