His mother ruffled his hair affectionately, as though he were but a boy and not a man who towered a good foot taller than she. “I feared to never lay eyes upon you again,” she whispered and her voicewavered.
“I wrote! Did that company of troubadours not arrive at Viandin? I confess they were not the most likely to be reliable, but I had fewchoices...”
“They came but it was months ago. Why did you take so muchlonger?”
Rolfe had no good reply for that, at least not one his mother wouldbelieve.
She eyed him, then smiled. “How many maidens have you seduced on yourjourney?”
“Onlyone.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.”
“My good son.” She studied him and her strength seemed to falter. Rolfe thought he saw a tear gleam on her dark lashes. “When they said a Rolfe de Viandin had come to the gates, I could scarce believe myears....”
Her voice broke and Rolfe gathered her into an impulsive hug. “I am here, Mother, and as vital as might be.” He felt her shaking and held her tightly. It was not like his mother to be overcome by emotion and he wondered that she had changed so much in hisabsence.
Finally, she pulled back a little and looked into his eyes. Her hand ran over his shoulder as if she could not quite believe he stood before her again. “You were never so quick with affectionbefore.”
“You never seemed in need ofit.”
“How else have youchanged?”
Rolfe smiled. “In a thousand ways,Mother.”
“Aye, that is the way of war,” she said softly and held his gaze for a long moment. When she took a step back, her voice was crisp, which he found more familiar. “It is a long way toOutremer.”
“Aye. It is.” Rolfe picked up the brush and turned back to his task. “Yet here I am, hale and hearty, and on my way home, none the worse forwear.”
“On a differentsteed.”
“Alas, Sebastien did not take well to theheat.”
“Hedied?”
“I sold him to a knight returning to Paris when it was clear he suffered overmuch, and bought this destrier instead, for he was bred in Outremer.” Rolfe paused in his task. “I wonder if Sebastien might be found and purchased again. He was a finecreature.”
“You do not have need of two destriers,” Hildegarde said, as pragmatic as ever. Rolfe acknowledged that he might not be able to afford two. She followed Rolfe into the stall, eyeing Mephistopheles warily. “Could you have found one any larger or blacker? He looks as fearsome as ademon.”
“Then you will well appreciate hisname.”
“Indeed?”
“It is Mephistopheles.” Rolfe grinned when his mother frowned in disapproval and she rapped him sharply on the shoulder with themistletoe.
“It is most unfitting to ride a beast cursed with such a name! Ill fortune could only dog your footsteps! Have you no regard for your ownwelfare?”
Rolfe smiled to himself, knowing immediately that his mother and Annelise would agree on more issues than this. “And have you no regard for your health?” he retorted cheerfully. “What madness has you far from home in the dead ofwinter?”
His mother’s face fell, and Rolfe knew that something wasamiss.
“What is it? What iswrong?”
“I came to seek you out, but the snow stopped us here. I would have ridden all the way to Jerusalem if need be. Bertrand, you may know, trained with your father, and he offered my party accommodation for as long asrequired.”
“But why did you leave Viandin in this season? Surely nothing is amissthere?”
