An Honorable Rogue by Carol Townend

Alis was among the ladies.
    Two strange men brought up the rear--no, not strangers exactly, for hadn't Rozenn seen one of them yesterday in the bailey? That mop of red hair, unusually long, that nose, sharp as a blade... Yes, she had seen him before.
    Rozenn was about to turn back to her stall when one last figure came down the steps of the keep and into the square; a dark-featured, handsome young man whose fine green tunic fit his wide shoulders to perfection, and whose silver buckle flashed in the sun. Her heart stuttered. Ben!
    Another feminine laugh floated out through the great doors of the abbey. Deliberately pitched to carry back towards the keep?
    Rozenn clenched her teeth as with sickening predictability Ben's head turned in the direction of the laughter. He frowned, and then he too was striding towards the Abbey.
    Ben? Attending matins with the Countess and her ladies?
    A lump formed in Rozenn's throat.
    Ben and Alis. So. No need to worry whether Ben had spent an uncomfortable night in some dank corner of the Great Hall. No need to worry whether the kiss on the jetty had meant Rose's relationship with Ben was in danger of changing. She had been forgetting--this was Benedict Silvester, the man with ties to no one and nothing. Save to his music, of course. Ben would wander off again soon, as he always did, and Lady Alis would be left behind to weep. She could almost find it in her heart to be sorry for Alis FitzHubert. Almost. Wasn't the girl meant to be betrothed to some knight?
    Turning away from the sight of Ben taking the Abbey steps two at a time, Rozenn stared at her stall and forced herself to consider how best to display the cloth. The striped Byzantine silk should go at the front. The red velvet on the left, while, on the right, the green damask. It was a struggle and her heart ached, but she made herself continue. The plain linens could be ranged behind; and the satin ribbons...
    Market Square gradually filled with people and customers, but Rose was not too busy to miss Countess Muriel emerging from Ste Croix with her entourage. Nor did she miss Alis FitzHubert and the red-haired stranger. And Ben? Not that she was watching for him--she just happened to be looking at the workmen swarming up the scaffolding as they started their morning's work. Like Ben, they had a breathtaking sense of balance.
    'Excuse me, mistress." A woman at her elbow cleared her throat. 'How much for a dress length of that blue linen?'
    Rozenn tore her gaze from the Abbey doorway--still no sign of Ben--and forced a smile. 'You have a good eye, mistress, that's the finest linen in town.'
    She and the customer were haggling over the price when Ben sauntered out of the Abbey in the company of Abbot Benoit. Ben? In the company of the Abbot?
    'But you'll give me a discount?" the woman said, drawing her gaze, 'If I ask my husband to drop off some lamb cutlets at your doorstep tomorrow morning? And this is not mutton, mind, but new season's lamb...'
    Rozenn unhooked the shears at her belt. 'Agreed.' The shears crunched through the cloth; she folded it carefully, put the money in her pouch and looked up. 'Who's next?"
    For the next few minutes--it could have been longer-- she was almost overwhelmed by the rush. Word had apparently got around that there were bargains to be had at Widow Kerber's stall.
    Countess Muriel bought the entire length of striped green-and-gold silk. Her mother, Ivona. bought a fine cream lawn to make a summer veil. Even Lady Alis bought from her--several ribbons 'to make a headdress'--and from Lady Alis Rozenn was startled to receive a shy smile as the money, a couple of silver coins, was pressed into her hand. Lady Josefa bought some English braid for a man's leg bindings. In short, trade was brisk, very brisk.
    Rozenn's heart began to lift. With luck, today would see the last of Per's stock sold off and his debts paid.
    The sun climbed and the shadows shrank. Rozenn's stall began to look a little depleted, but she