“She isn’t a child,” Richard statedscornfully. “She’s quite old. She was betrothed once,but her bridegroom died. My grandmother was pleased, because afterwaiting some years for him, Hiltrude wouldn’t have manysuitors, not being even pretty, so she would be left forme.”

Brother Paul’s blood chilled at the implications.‘Quite old’ probably meant no more than a few yearspast twenty, but even that was an unacceptable difference. Suchmarriages, of course, were a commonplace, where there was propertyand land to be won, but they were certainly not to be encouraged.Abbot Radulfus had long had qualms of conscience about acceptinginfants committed by their fathers to the cloister, and hadresolved to admit no more boys until they were of an age to makethe choice for themselves. He would certainly look no morefavourably on committing a child to the equally grave and bindingdiscipline of matrimony.

“Well, you may put all such matters out of yourmind,” he said very firmly. “Your only concern now andfor some years to come must be with your lessons and the pastimesproper to your years. Now you may go back to your fellows, if youwish, or stay here quietly for a while, as you prefer.”

Richard slid out of the supporting arm readily and stood upsturdily from the bench, willing to face the world and his curiousfellow pupils at once, and seeing no reason why he should shun themeeting even for a moment. He had yet to comprehend the thing thathad happened to him. The fact he could grasp, the implications wereslow to reach beyond his intelligence into his heart.

“If there is anything more you wish to ask,” saidBrother Paul, eyeing him anxiously, “or if you feel the needfor comfort or counsel, come back to me, and we’ll go toFather Abbot. He is wiser than I, and abler to help you throughthis time.”