I had never had a home before, save for my father’s palace when I was very small. Though the Abbey of St. Agnes had been comfortable, it had also been a sort of prison, and religious life eluded me, for all my earnest prayers. Perhaps I would make a home for myself among my husband’s people.
As we rode into the sunlight of the afternoon, I saw that William’s country was full of growing things. Trees towered over us like sentinels, whispering as we passed. Their varied shades of green called to me; I had never seen so fine a forest in England or anywhere.
William saw my love for his country in my eyes. He began to tell me of his lands at Bellême, how much the land yielded in a season, how his people were healthy and prosperous. He sounded like a country farmer speaking of his home, not li
