waste of food. But she did not want to criticise Alain in front of the others, and there was no way to exchange a word without being overheard. The two of them had no more time alone than if they were riding in a royal procession.
She finally blurted out a question as he helped her dismount at the end of the day. ‘When do you return to France?’
She wanted to say ‘when do we return?', but that seemed presumptuous.
‘Lord Douglas plans a pilgrimage in grateful thanks for his victory. I shall travel with him.’
‘To the Holy Land?’ Her hands grew cold. He had mentioned nothing of this before. Such a trip would take at least a year.
‘Not so far. Amiens.’
The French cathedral housed the head of St John the Baptist. It would be natural for Alain to travel with the group back to France. ‘When?’
He shrugged. ‘Arrangements must be made. By summer. Sooner, I pray. I can’t wait to leave this cold, damp place.’
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