"How I hated those monks at first, my lord, for hate was the only emotion I could understand. I cursed those kindly old men who twice each day brought me food, but otherwise left me alone with my thoughts. I vowed if I could but get free I should destroy their monastery about them.

"Finally after many weeks the hate and the anger drained out of me. One morning as an old monk brought me my food I found myself weeping, and begging his help. Without weapons and my hate I had become again the child I once was. Those good monks began the reeducation of that child. They taught me that although physical force is sometimes the answer, more often than not problems can be solved without violence. They taught me to use my brains to reason, and to solve dilemmas rather than fight mindlessly over them.

"They put me in charge of the helpless creatures, the small beasts of their farm, who needed the protection and care of someone stronger. One day I found myself rea.s.signed to the monastery's hospital caring for those who were ill and dying. It was these things that taught me the value of life over death, my lord. I would have been contented to stay there forever.

"After two years with the monks I was told I was to be given a new task and was sent to the court of King Rory Tir Connell who ruled in the northwest of Ireland. The King's old wife had given her husband five living sons and four daughters, all of whom were grown. She was a grandmother near fifty when she again conceived, but she died giving birth to Maire Tir Connell, your wife's mother. She was placed in my custody to raise, for Rory Tir Connell, angered by his wife's death, refused to even look upon the babe."

Dagda's eyes teared from his memories, and for a moment he was silent. Then he continued his tale. "Never in my life had anyone loved me, my lord, nor trusted me as implicitly as did my princess. The heart I had so long denied bloomed warm within my chest so I gave my life to her care. It was I who chose her wet-nurse, making certain the wench was healthy. It was I who fretted over her first steps. It was I upon whom she bestowed her first smile. My name she first spoke. I watched her grow from infant to little girl to woman. I saw the pained looks of the young men who came to court her only to be sent away. I knew before she did that she was in love with Ciaran St. Ronan and I was overjoyed the day that they wed. Never for a moment did I imagine that their love for one another would end in her death.

"When she died shortly after birthing my lady Mairin I felt as if I should have died myself. The princess, however, knew me as well as I knew her. She placed her child's well-being and safety into my hands as the monks had once placed her life into my keeping. She knew I would not fail her, and I have not.

"When Ciaran St. Ronan died I protected my lady Mairin from that unholy b.i.t.c.h, her stepmother. When Aldwine Athelsbeorn took my lady into his home, and made her his daughter, I gave him my fealty. Now I offer my loyalty to you, my lord. Be warned though that should your interests ever conflict with those of my lady Mairin, I will serve her first. I felt that you should know this."

Josselin was fascinated by this recitation, for he had wondered about Dagda's presence in Mairin's life. He had immediately liked the Irishman because he was obviously honorable, loyal, and one to be trusted.

"I can only hope, Dagda, that my interests and those of my wife never conflict. It is obvious that you could be a formidable opponent," replied Josselin with a warm smile.

"I have not raised my sword to kill in many years, my lord. I went with Aldwine Athelsbeorn and his son to York, but the thegn, knowing how I felt, let me remain in the background caring for the wounded. Seeing the battle brought back many memories to me, my lord, but I felt no great longing to take up my sword and kill. The blood l.u.s.t is long gone from me. I value life far too much now."

Josselin nodded. Somehow he understood Dagda's feelings, and he admired his fort.i.tude. Dagda had no need to prove himself. "The king has charged me with the task of building a castle at Aelfleah," he said. "What would you say to overseeing the workers that Master Gilleet brings us in the spring? My engineer must contend with the problems of the construction, which are great. I must have someone I can trust who can see to the workers, and you are a man who is liked and respected, at Aelfleah."

Dagda nodded, and a smile creased his strong features. "Yes," he said, "I should very much like to be a part of building your castle, my lord. There was a time in my life when I was a destroyer. For many years now I have been a nurturer, but never have I had a part in creating."

"Have you no children then, Dagda?"

The Irishman chuckled, then nodded. "The care of my lady never left me time for a proper wife. There have been several women both in Ireland and at Aelfleah who have occasionally and most generously shared their beds with me. I am said to have fathered eight sons and some six daughters in my years in England. Since they have all had the disconcerting habit of looking very much like me there is simply no denying them. With your permission, my lord, I should like my eldest son, Edwin, to aid me in my task for you."

"Choose whom you will, Dagda. I will leave such decisions with you for you know the people of Aelfleah far better than I."

Dagda, satisfied with the arrangement, realized he was quite hungry. He had earlier gone to the neighborhood cook shop, purchasing a roasted capon, a loaf of bread, a small hard cheese, and for Mairin and her mother he had bought some apples and pears. After carving the bird, he sliced the bread and cheese, making three plates of food. Having served his new lord, he took a plate to Eada.

"The lady Mairin is already asleep," he said with a smile as he returned to the hall.

"The lady Eada says that my wife has no tolerance for wine," Josselin remarked.

Dagda chuckled. "I have known few Celts," he said, "with such little tolerance for spirits, but my lady is indeed one. Wine unless watered has always made her ill. Sometimes she vomits it away, and other times not, but the sickness is always followed by sleep. Neither of her parents was that way."

"What were they like? Her parents?" Josselin asked.

"Her mother was beautiful," Dagda said. "She had a voice like a lark, and she laughed easily. She was slow to anger, and usually managed to find some good in everything. I think that is why G.o.d must have taken her so young. She was surely one of his favorite children. He could obviously not bear to be parted from her.

"As for her father, he was kind and loving to my princess. He was that rare man, one with a genuinely good heart. He adored his first wife, and was devastated by her death. He would not have married again, I think, had he not felt so strongly the responsibility to sire a son. He certainly did not expect to die when he did. He was far too young."

"How did he die, Dagda?"

"An accident. He fell from his horse into the moat, and contracted a fever and illness immediately thereafter. In a few weeks he was dead, and his lady wife had managed by trickery and fraud to expel lady Mairin from her home. She was a wicked woman, my lord, with a face like an angel but a heart as black as any daughter of the devil. Had I known what she was to put her hand to I think I might have arranged an accident for her. So great was her l.u.s.t for the lands of Landerneau that the lady Blanche cared not what happened to an innocent child."

"The lady Blanche?"

"Blanche de St. Brieuc-may G.o.d curse her!-my lady Mairin's stepmother. But that is long over with, and G.o.d and his Blessed Mother protected my lady." He took up the leg of the capon and bit into it.

Blanche de St. Brieuc! Josselin felt the blood drain from his face. He lowered his head so that Dagda might not see it, and slowly chewed on a piece of bread and cheese. Could it be the same Blanche de St. Brieuc? It had to be! There were not two women of the same name within that family to his knowledge, and Dagda's description certainly fit her. The woman Josselin had known indeed had the face of an angel. He found it difficult to believe that she was so wicked, but the evidence could not be denied.

His Blanche. He choked on a piece of bread at that thought causing Dagda to pound him on his back and hand him his goblet. Josselin nodded his thanks through watery eyes. The Blanche he had known had lived in the house of her eldest brother. She was a widow with a daughter, but he had never seen the child for the girl lived with her betrothed husband's family. Blanche had been very pleased with the match she had obtained for her offspring, for the little girl's rich lands had netted her a husband, a younger son of the powerful Montgomerie family.

Blanche had spoken little of that first marriage, indicating delicately that she had been forced to it by her family. She had said her husband was a terrible old man, and that only his sudden death had saved her from a life of unspeakable horror. She had never mentioned her lord nor his estate by name. Josselin had thought the memories were too painful for her, but now he realized her reluctance stemmed from the fact that she did not want him discussing her with his own father, who had been her husband's close friend.

She had blinded him with those limpid blue eyes of hers, with her soft voice and an even softer hand laid upon his arm when they had walked in her brother's garden. She had given subtle hints of how it might be between them.

Joss had been flattered by her attention for he was naught but a landless b.a.s.t.a.r.d, n.o.ble though his blood might be. He had even thought that someday when he had his lands, and a place of honor in the king's service, he might be fit to court her; to make her his wife. He did not love her, but then he had never expected to love his wife. How many men did? A man married for lands, for position, for the gold his wife could bring him. In bringing him all those things she brought them to his family also. Strong alliances made strong families.

Such had been his thoughts until the day he crossed the Aldford River at Aelfleah and saw Mairin coming from the woods surrounded by her maidens. He had loved and l.u.s.ted after her on first sight. She was his beautiful and exquisite enchantress who haunted his thoughts. G.o.d had surely been looking after him when he saved Josselin from such a venal and genuinely wicked woman as Blanche de St. Brieuc by giving him Mairin of Aelfleah.

Chewing more slowly, he washed down his meal with the wine Dagda kept pouring. He decided that it was not necessary for Mairin to know of his brief connection with her stepmother for it was unlikely that either of them would ever again see Brittany, and Blanche would certainly not come to England. He had had a lucky escape, and there was no sense in distressing his wife unduly.

When he had finished his meal Dagda whisked the plates away and fetched two straw-filled pallets from a cupboard in the fireplace wall which he placed before the fire. The two men wrapped themselves in their cloaks, and slept undisturbed during the night. Josselin's first hazy thoughts as he awoke to the sounds of Dagda building up the fire were to wonder where he was. He quickly remembered. Shivering from the cold December morning, he heard the bells outside ringing in Christmas Day.

"What time is it?" he mumbled from the tangle of his heavy cloak.

"Dawn, my lord. I've already awakened my lady and her mother."

Josselin sat up. "How does my wife feel this morning, Dagda?"

"Weak, but her stomach has settled, she says. I've already taken her some bread and toasted cheese, fruit and watered wine."

Josselin arose from his pallet. "That sounds like a good breakfast provided there is some capon left."

Without another word Dagda placed the requested food before him, and Josselin raised a dark eyebrow. "Are you as magical as your mistress, Dagda, that you know my desires before I even voiced them?"

Dagda chuckled, a rumbly noise that had a warm sound to it. "There is no sorcery here, my lord. Our larder is scant. I merely provided you with what we had. Eat now. I must draw enough water from the well in the courtyard to heat so that my mistress may wash herself. It will first be necessary to break the ice away from the surface."

Josselin gobbled his food hastily but he was very hungry and barely satisfied by his meal. Then he hurried up the stairs to see Mairin, pa.s.sing his mother-in-law on her way down as he went. She gave him a smile and a cheerful "Good morning" which he returned. He liked Eada. She was a warm, good and sensible woman.

Mairin sat in the large bed which was hung with dusty velvet drapes of a long-faded color. It looked nonetheless like a comfortable bed, one Josselin would have enjoyed spending his wedding night in, but that would have to be delayed until they returned home to Aelfleah. He had no intention of exercising his husbandly rights along the road in some inn or in a stranger's house. He wanted her in their own bed where he might enjoy his possession at their leisure, and not have to worry about rising early to be on their way once more. The king had always teased him about being too fastidious.

His eyes took Mairin in with a long, a.s.sessing look that brought a delicious pink hue to her cheeks. She was wearing her chemise, and he could see a pair of tempting lovely b.r.e.a.s.t.s through the sheer silk of the garment. "Good morning, wife," he said as he sat down beside her on the bed. She moved to raise the coverlet up to shield herself from his gaze, but he stayed her hand with his own. "No," he said softly. "I have been denied your company, enchantress. Do not, I beg you, deny me my right to at least look upon your beauty." Reaching out he gently cupped one of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s with his other hand, rubbing the nipple provocatively with a slow, teasing motion.

Every inch of her tingled at his touch. She thought her desire must be obvious. It had been so very long since she had been touched with love. When she faced the fact that in order to keep Aelfleah she would have to wed Josselin de Combourg, she had also thought that she would hate his lovemaking. She had believed she loved Basil and she had certainly loved the desire he had raised within her. She adored his touch. She had never been afraid when he taught her the many ways two lovers could please one another without consummating their pa.s.sion. When Eric Longsword had touched her she had hated it, and foolishly, she had a.s.sumed that she would hate the touch of all other men. How wonderful to find that it was not so!

She almost purred with her pleasure, and seeing the look of contentment upon her beautiful face Josselin laughed aloud. "Oh, my sweet enchantress, how you tempt me! I wish we were not expected at Westminster for the king's coronation. I wish it were not necessary to leave as soon as possible in order to be admitted. I should like to climb into bed with you this minute, pull the curtains tight, and satisfy your charming, and obvious longings." Reluctantly he took his hand from her breast. "G.o.d, Mairin, do not look at me that way! It makes me want to ravish you!"

"I do not mean to be so shameless," she murmured ingenuously, "but it has been a long time since a man touched me. I did not believe I should enjoy another man's touch after Basil's death. Have I shocked you, my lord?"

"Lady, you have delighted me with your desire. I promise you that when we return home to Aelfleah I shall satisfy all those hot little pa.s.sions of yours. Is there no end to your surprises, Mairin? A beautiful wife with prosperous lands who is eager for her husband! The king has given me more than he realizes. If the truth were known I should this day be the most envied man in England!" He took her hand, turning it over to kiss first her palm, and then the sensitive skin upon the inside of her wrist.

She felt her pulse leap wildly, but whether it was his words, his kisses, or a combination of both, she knew not. "My lord, if this be a honeymoon then I hope it will last our lifetime," she murmured, "but now I must dress if I am to be ready in time."

"May I help?" he teased her mischievously, and was surprised once more by her honesty and openness.

"My lord, if you touch me again I shall not be responsible for my actions. If you could send my mother to me I would be grateful."

She swung her legs over the bed, and stood up.

He stood also, and taking her by her slim shoulders he looked into her violet eyes, feeling his breath catch within his chest. "Do you want me, enchantress, as much as I want you?" he half-groaned, feeling his senses fill to overflowing with her elusive scent and the heat of her body.

"Yes," she whispered huskily, "I want you, my lord husband. Not merely for the children you will give me, but for the pleasure we can give each other. Basil always said that children grew up, and left their parents but that a man and a woman began and ended together; that they taught one another pa.s.sion in the beginning, and despite their duties to family and country they should not lose that pa.s.sion because in the end it would once more be for them as it was in the beginning. Their love and their pa.s.sion for one another would sustain them in their old age. Oh, Josselin! I suddenly realize that I want you to love me!"

"You want me to love you? But, enchantress, I do! Have I not said it? I love you!"

They stood for a long moment gazing at one another. Then Eada's step upon the stairs brought them back to reality. "Josselin," said the older woman as she entered the room, a steaming basin in her hands, "Dagda has heated some water for you downstairs. Mairin and I will hurry, and be ready as quickly as possible."

There was nothing for him to do but return to the hall, but before he went he stole a quick kiss from his wife which brought a smile to her lips and those of her mother, particularly when he whistled his way back down the stairs.

"You are fortunate," said Eada. "Did I not say he was a good man?"

"You are thinking of father," said Mairin, who had quickly seen the sad look that crept into Eada's eyes.

"I miss him," said Eada softly. "I spent practically my whole life with Aldwine. Now I am alone. It is a strange feeling, my child. I go through the days thinking that something is wrong, that something is missing. Then suddenly I realize what it is. It is your father. He is gone, and I feel for the first time in my life less than whole."

"But you are not alone, mother! You have me, and you have Josselin. One day you will have grandchildren too. We need you!"

"Then you do not want me to return to my brother's hall? I may stay at Aelfleah?"

"Stay at Aelfleah? Aelfleah is your home, mother! You are its mistress."

"No, Mairin. You are now its mistress, and Josselin de Combourg is its lord. Aelfleah is mine no longer."

Mairin flung her arms about her mother and hugged her hard. "Once," she said, "my home was stolen from me. I was sent away from the place I loved and knew best. Then you opened your heart and your home to me. You took me for your daughter even though at the time your heart was breaking for Edyth whom you had carried within your womb and raised for five years.

"I do not remember the woman who gave birth to me, mother. It is you who raised me, who rejoiced with me in the hour of my small triumphs, who wept with me over my small misfortunes that at the time seemed so enormous to me. It is you who nursed me when I was sick and scolded me when I was wrong but too stubborn to admit to my faults. Faults which you always forgave. It is you who are my mother. To send you from your home, from a place you love, would be a great sin. But more important, I love you, mother! I want you with me for as long as G.o.d will allow."

Eada looked with tear-filled eyes at Mairin. Her hand went to her mouth to stifle her cry of happiness. When she had recovered herself she said, "I will mourn your father and Brand all my days, but surely G.o.d blest me when he gave me you for my own true child, Mairin."

The two women hugged again, and brushed away each other's tears. Then with a smile they began to help each other wash and dress for the coronation. They would wear the gowns they had worn yesterday when they had been presented to the king. The only other garments that they possessed were the more serviceable ones that they had worn traveling down to London. No one would notice, they knew, for they were not important. It was very unlikely that they would be close enough to see the king again except at a distance. After the ceremony they would return to the house to change their clothing, and be on their way back to Aelfleah that day.

They were not expected to join the feasting afterward where there would be more male guests for there were few Norman ladies of rank in England yet. It was still considered too dangerous due to the continued unrest in the countryside. Norman women were considered by their men to be ornamental and useful only for the breeding of children, or the making of alliances. Even the queen had not yet set her dainty foot in England.

It was a cold Christmas Day, gray and overcast with just the hint of snow in the air. The streets of London were festive, and filled with both Normans and Saxons of all ranks on their way to the great Cathedral of Westminster, built by the late King Edward, and only a year ago consecrated to G.o.d's service. William had thought it the most appropriate place to be crowned. Most guests were on foot, but here and there were parties of mounted guests who rode even as did the little group from Aelfleah. They had not come to London unescorted, but Josselin was not certain of the temper of the city and had left his men camped on the far side of the London Bridge where there was less likelihood of trouble.

Now as they drew nearer to the great church the pace slowed even more in the press of the crowds. The noise was fearsome. They had been promised a place within the cathedral itself, and leaving their horses with Dagda they joined those on foot to enter Westminster. Josselin could see no one that he knew, but he managed to secure a place for his wife and Eada toward the rear of the great church on the edge of the large crowd where they would have a fine view of William as he pa.s.sed by.

William of Normandy entered the abbey of Westminster with a firm tread to be hallowed as England's king according to the ancient British rite. He was crowned and the unction performed by Aldred, the archbishop of York. The late King Edward had been forced by the G.o.dwin faction to remove the legal prelate of Westminster, and replace him with a priest named Stigand whom the pope had disavowed.

It was not a long ceremony, and when it was over Archbishop Aldred presented William I, King of England, to the people, speaking in the English tongue which was quite an innovation. Then Geoffrey, the bishop of Coutances, speaking in his native Norman French, also presented the king to all his subjects.

Unfortunately the mercenary troops guarding Westminster heard the second round of shouts marking the king's acclamation and thought a rebellion was starting. They promptly set fire to some of the surrounding houses. This error in judgment was quickly corrected, but not before two homes had burned to the ground, and some half a dozen others had been damaged. Horrified, the king gave immediate orders that reparations be paid to the householders. Then he thanked G.o.d upon his knees before the main altar that no one had been hurt in the melee.

Torn between the women in his care, and a possible danger to his liege lord, Josselin had hesitated a moment when the furor arose. Then Mairin had hissed at him, "Go to the king, my lord! We will be safe here." He left them without even looking back. When the confusion had settled William noticed his Breton knight, and smiled briefly at him.

"I am all right, Josselin. Go back to your beautiful wife and to those lands of yours, and help to keep England safe for us. I have been crowned king this day, but if I am to keep my crown then I must unite this country into one. Marriages such as yours, and men like you upon the estates will help me to make England strong." He held out his hand to the younger man, and Josselin de Combourg, kneeling briefly, kissed it. Rising, he left the king's presence. William smiled after him, and turning to his brother, Odo, said, "Let us depart for Barking, brother, and receive the homage of my subjects good and true."

The bishop grinned back at his brother and replied, "Let us depart for Barking, William, because it is a cold day, and at Barking there is food and hot mulled wine awaiting us. Perhaps even a warm maiden who might be half as lovely as the flame-haired wench you so casually gave to de Combourg. Ahh, I envy the man! If she's as fiery as her hair you'll be lucky if that border keep gets built. She'll exhaust him in the nights, and he'll have nothing left for the days! You would have done better to give him an ugly wife so he would spend all his time out upon the walls driving the workers." And the bishop laughed uproariously.

"Odo, you are far too worldly for a man of G.o.d," said the king, a slightly disapproving tone to his voice.

"But, William," replied his brother wisely, "you needed a bishop in the family."

A small, frosty smile touched William of Normandy's mouth for the briefest moment, and then he said two words. "To Barking!" and turning, left Westminster.

Odo of Bayeux, a knowing look upon his own face, hurried to catch up with his older brother.

Josselin had shepherded his wife and mother-in-law from the great church. He knew that once the king had left, the crowds would thicken again. He hoped to get quickly away and back to their own house so that they might change their clothing and depart. Despite the disturbance Dagda was exactly where they had left him.

Mairin grinned as he boosted her into her saddle. "Can you imagine anyone forcing him to move?" she said to her husband.

"What happened?" demanded the big Irishman. "My heart was in my mouth when those mercenaries began firing the houses."

Josselin explained, and Dagda nodded. "Undisciplined fools!" he muttered as he climbed upon his horse.

Making their way back through the city, they reached the house where the two women quickly changed from their finery into their more practical traveling garb. The clothing was serviceable, dark and plain to the eye, for despite their armed escort, Josselin did not wish to attract any attention. His objective was to return to Aelfleah as easily and as swiftly as possible. Checking that the coals in the fireplace were completely dead, Dagda took the remaining food and locked the small house behind them. They rode over the London Bridge to meet with their armed escort.

The weather was bitterly cold, and light snow fell intermittently. The damp seemed to creep right through their fur-lined cloaks. Mairin rode with her head tucked as deeply into her hood as she could get it. Even so her cheeks felt frosted with the icy air. A year ago she and Eada had celebrated a quiet but happy Christmas with Brand, and two years ago she had been in Byzantium at Christmastide, and in love with Basil. She felt a tear glaze her red cheeks.

Why am I weeping for him, she thought? It was bad enough that he deserted me for a lover, but a male lover? He did not really love me for all his beautiful words! Then she thought of the tender initiation he had given her into the sensual world of pa.s.sion, and of the exquisite arts of love he had taught her. Surely he had felt some love for her. She wondered if Josselin would enjoy having her practice upon his body those delicious arts in which Basil had instructed her. She very much wanted to make love to Josselin, and she wanted him to make love to her. This husband, she mused, would not leave her a virgin.

They rode until just before dark when they were forced to accept the hospitality of strangers, a Saxon thegn and his family. The thegn had not fought at Hastings having been ill at the time, and his sons were too young to have gone in his stead. Now he and his wife thanked a merciful G.o.d that it had been so for several of his neighbors had died at the hands of the Normans. Their women and children had been cast out into the winter cold to wander the roads. At least half a dozen girls of good families had been debauched by their Norman conquerors, and they were not faring well. It was a tragedy repeated all over England. Basically the king had been merciful, but there were those who had boldly defied him even after his victory over Harold G.o.dwinson. To them he showed his wrath.

Their hosts were anxious for the latest word, and eagerly listened to the accounts of the coronation. They nodded their heads approvingly as Eada told them of how the archbishop of York had presented William to his subjects in the English tongue. The thegn almost wept openly when Josselin told him that he would be confirmed in his lands provided he swore his fealty to William. Relief was evident upon his face for he had feared that like his neighbors he would lose his lands.

"The king is not like that," said Josselin firmly. "Though I am not a Norman I have served him for many years. William of Normandy is a just man. A harsh one I will admit, but a fair and an honest lord. You have but to be loyal and honest to him in return."

"But can he hold England?" the thegn questioned. "I hear there is yet restlessness in the north, and Exeter as well."

"King William will hold England you may rest a.s.sured," replied Josselin. "You cannot harm yourselves or your family by giving him your fealty."

The following morning they took leave of their hosts, and continued upon their way. For a few hours the sun made a brave attempt to shine, but the cloudy lemon disc was quickly overcome by the gray as they hurried slightly north and west toward Aelfleah. They traveled onward for several more days, stopping only at night to shelter, and once during the mid-day to rest the horses, and eat. At last the landscape around them began to look familiar, and they knew that they were near the end of their journey.

The valley with its fine manor house looked so peaceful and welcoming as they rode down the eastern hills to cross over the Aldford river. The stableboys came running to take their weary mounts, and within the house was warmth, and decent food and wine.

"And a hot bath!" said Mairin gleefully.

"Oh, yes," echoed Eada fervently, "but you first, child. I must see to the removal of my things from the master's bedchamber. It now belongs to you and Josselin. I will sleep in your room from now on."

Mairin was about to protest, but then realized her mother was right. The master's chamber did belong to Josselin now, and she was Josselin's wife. Mairin might be uncomfortable at first in the chamber she considered her parent's, but she would get used to it.

"I will see to the evening meal then, mother," she said quietly as Eada hurried up the stairs, Nara in her wake.

"Has the king then confirmed my lady Mairin as heiress to these lands?" asked Nara.