Her flush deepened. 'I had also heard the same about you and Gisele. Mauger says that you are departing on a pilgrimage together.'
He nodded. 'Within the month. I came to bid you farewell.'
'Yet another parting?' She raised a mocking eyebrow.
Benedict flinched beneath the look she gave him. He cleared his throat, and stepped aside to reveal the golden-dappled mare tied on a leading rein. 'I came to bring you the mare. King William Rufus wanted to buy her and I refused him – one of the reasons I'm making myself scarce for a while. I thought I would give her into your custody before I left. It would not have been safe to leave her at Ulverton.'
Julitta stared at the young mare and then at him. 'Freya?' she said. 'This is Freya?'
He nodded. 'What do you think?'
Julitta ran down the steps to the courtyard to examine the mare at close quarters. 'Oh, she is beautiful!' she declared as she walked around the young horse and ran her hand over fluid muscles and sturdy bones. 'I told Mauger that she had breeding.' She stroked the plush nose, noting how quietly she stood to be inspected. 'Is she saddle-broken?'
Benedict smiled and gave a flourish. 'Of course.'
'Give me a leg up.'
Benedict's smile became a poignant grin. Here was the Julitta of his most precious memories, moved by enthusiasm to discard convention. He cupped his hand and boosted her across Freya's bare back. There was a cracking sound as a side seam gave in her undergown. Julitta clucked an irritated tongue and hitched her garments up, exposing her green hose almost to the knees. Benedict unknotted the long rein and presented it to her with a gallant bow.
Julitta laughed at him, and lightly kicked her heels against the mare's flanks.
Freya moved off across the courtyard, her gait silk-smooth. Benedict watched the two of them, deriving both pleasure and pain from the sight. Julitta rode superbly; there was something of her father's casual arrogance in the way she sat a horse. He could almost imagine her in chain-mail and helm, a sword at her hip and a kite shield upon her left arm. Or perhaps a wild Valkyrie, sweeping down from Valhalla to claim heroes for the eternal feast hall. He did not know that it had been one of Ailith's favourite self-images, nor that she had unconsciously imbued her daughter with much of its fire.
Julitta rode back to him, her eyes shining and a flush on her cheeks. 'She's perfect, Ben.'
'You'll have to test her over a longer distance before you can say that.'
'Oh, I will do, but I know already that she'll be as clear as a bell. How could she not in your care?' She slipped down from the mare's back with lithe ease and dusted down her skirts. 'You say William Rufus wanted to buy her?'
'Yes, for his catamite.'
Julitta considered him with pursed lips. 'I'm glad you refused, but it has made trouble for you?'
He shrugged and smiled ruefully. 'No more than usual. Rufus will forget, and his pretty boy will fall from favour. They never last for long. Rufus treats them like meals to be eaten — chews them up and throws away the bones.'
Julitta turned to stroke the mare's face and strong, arched neck. 'You once told me that Rufus wanted to make a meal of you.'
'He still does, but I have no intention of lying down across his table. Let his bons amis and the churchmen wrestle for his soul. I am well out of the broil and on my way to God's grace in Compostella.' He gathered Cylu's reins and set his foot in the stirrup before the temptation to say that yes, he would enter the hall, became too great.
'I did not think that you really cared about God's grace,' she said, watching him narrowly.
'No, but Gisele does, and who is to say that she is not right?'
Julitta shrugged. There was a brief, awkward silence.
'Besides,' Benedict continued, 'my own concern is with Spanish horses. I'm going to buy some good breeding stock for your father – Iberian stallions and mares. We need an influx of new blood.'
Julitta nodded and folded her arms as if protecting herself. The spontaneity had died. She was a polite hostess bidding farewell to a sometime visitor. Her eyes looked at him and through him.
'Wish me good fortune,' Benedict said, and turned Cylu towards the gates. Suddenly he was desperate to be gone, as if the air of Fauville's courtyard was unbreathable. He clicked his tongue and drove in his heels, and Cylu sprang into a startled canter that took man and horse swiftly away from Julitta and the mare.
'A safe journey, and a safe return!' she called after him, but he was already beyond hearing, the pounding of hooves and the snort of Cylu's breath wasting the words torn from her. She gathered up her skirts to run after him, but as he reached Fauville's gates, Mauger came riding in on his stocky chestnut work horse, and the moment was lost. She dared say nothing in front of her husband.
Mauger eyed Benedict and then cut his gaze to Julitta standing poised in the ward.
Benedict reined back to let Mauger pass. 'It's only a fleeting visit,' he said to the other man's scowl. 'I brought a leaving gift for Julitta. If you've any sense, you'll accept it with goodwill.'
'You're a fine one to talk of sense!' Mauger growled. 'Every time you show your face a storm brews. You were leaving, were you not?' He gestured over his shoulder at the open gateway.
Benedict quelled the urge to make a snide reply, and without a word, rode out of Fauville. Mauger continued on into the bailey and dismounted.
'What did he want?' he demanded brusquely.
'To say farewell before he leaves for Compostella,' she answered evenly while she tried to judge his mood. The scowl on his face meant nothing, it was a habitual expression – a great pity, since it marred the handsomeness he would otherwise have possessed.
'He said that he had brought you a gift.'
'Yes.' Julitta indicated the mare. 'I do not suppose you recognise her?'
'Should I?' Mauger handed his own mount to a groom and came to look at Freya. He ran his hands down her legs, picked up her hooves and studied the undersides, measured her proportions with an experienced eye. Grudging admiration flickered upon his face. 'Should I?' he repeated, for Julitta had not answered.
Watching him carefully she said, 'Do you remember that day when I begged you to buy that mare and foal and you refused?'
'No, I don't, I…' he said, and then stopped as he did indeed remember. 'And this, I suppose, is the foal,' he said after a moment.
Julitta nodded silently.
'I don't like him giving you gifts, and sneaking around Fauville when I am not by.'
'One gift, and one visit?' Julitta was stung to reply. 'He did not even stay for refreshment. Ask in the hall if you do not believe me.'
His eyes narrowed. 'Perhaps I will,' he said, and then, folding his arms, added, 'You know by law that what is yours belongs to me.'
'You will not take her away!' Horrified and angry, Julitta rounded on him.
Mauger rubbed the knuckle of his forefinger beneath his nose. 'That is for me to decide, not you to command,' he said stiffly.
'She is mine.' Julitta threw caution to the wind. The leash of duty could only accept so much strain before it snapped. 'If Benedict can see it, why can't you? Are you less than him, or perhaps you are afraid, is that it?'
Mauger's complexion darkened angrily. 'Mind your tongue, or I'll have you clapped in a scold's bridle!' he snarled. 'Benedict de Remy is a weak fool, a nithing. I count him beneath my contempt. I fear no man.'
'Then prove he is nothing to you, let me keep the horse.' Julitta raised her chin a notch and challenged him with her eyes and her posture.
'And is he nothing to you?' Mauger took a step towards her, his breathing swift. She saw the brightness of lust in his eyes, of doubt and the need to believe.
'He is nothing to me,' she lied in a steady voice, and although she could not prevent hot colour from flooding her face, she held Mauger's gaze. 'You are my husband.'