Maris made a move to go, but the man stopped her. “My lady, there is one last thing. If you would give this to your lady mother, mayhap she will remember me.” She saw that he was working a tight ring from a middle finger that resembled a sausage more than an appendage.

At last it slipped free, and he dropped the heavy, warm gold into her hand. Maris closed her fingers around it. “I’ll give it to her and return with her message.”

“Indeed. And many thanks to you for your hospitality.” His gaze transferred from her to sweep the room, as if taking in its expansiveness and accoutrements.

Glad to be released from what had to be the oddest conversation she’d had since the daft miller Brander had passed on, Maris nodded and gave a brief bow before sweeping from the hall. Ralf would tend to Bon de Savrille if he had any further needs. She would take the ring to Allegra and see what her mother remembered of this bizarre man.

As Maris entered the room, she offered the heavy gold ring to her mother, saying, “Our visitor is named Bon de Savrille, and he sends this to you.”

To Maris’s shock, Allegra’s face drained of color. Her eyes grew round and her body stiffened. With fingers that shook, she took the ring from Maris’s hand, closing her fingers around it as if to imprison it.

“Mama, what is it? Shall I order him thrown out?” A wave of strength and protectiveness surged from Maris’s middle. If the man sought to hurt Allegra, or to threaten her in some way, he would be swiftly dealt with.

“Nay. Nay, my sweetling. ’Tis naught. I merely felt a bit light of head for the moment.” Allegra’s smile was a bit wobbly.

“But Mama—”

“Nay.” Allegra’s voice, rarely this harsh and strong, stopped the words from her daughter’s mouth. “’Tis naught, Maris. I am merely weary and wish to rest. You may leave me. Do you not give that man any further message or attention. I bid you leave him be. He is no one.”