THE AFTERNOON SUN BATHED the field. Anne stood outside her tent near La Thanay.

At her sides, two formations of Bor俥's infantry bearing the duke's crest stood in even rows. Banners of green and gold flapped in the breeze.

A shiver of dread went through Anne. She had brooded over this moment for weeks now: her husband's return. There were times when she had actually prayed he would be lost in the war.

She had been married to him since she was sixteen, almost half her life. She had been betrothed as a sign of alliance between her family's duchy, Normandy, and Stephen's father. But if this union had fostered trust and commerce between the two duchies, it had created only isolation for her.

Once she bore him his son, Stephen forgot her, coming only when he tired of his whores from town. When she resisted, she felt the stab of his powerful fingers on her neck or the scrape of the back of his hand.

Though she kept up the appearances of court and family that were............