I didn’t want to marry the earl. But my brother had got in deep with him and together they were conspiring – not that I knew that then. I didn’t know until my husband, the earl, threw the keys to the castle at me and told me to hold it.
The king’s brother, the king being out of the country.
Why, where was my husband going?
Thank you, my brother, for delivering me unto this.
I defended the castle. What choice had I? Until, in the direst straits, the king’s brother said I could leave, to go join my husband overseas.
Of course, this isn’t the same castle. Ours burnt to the ground. That’s the problem with building castles of wood.