Igraine began to fret and to lose patience.
“You are over venturesome, madame,” she said, “in coming to Winchester.”
“So!”
“I believe they hang folk here at times; they might even break your slim white neck.”
Morgan’s lips twitched, but she did not blench from the argument.
“You speak of hanging,” she said, “and the inference is rather peculiar. Listen a moment, my good convent saint: your knight on the black horse would most certainly have needed the rope, if my man had not mended vengeance with that poniard.”
“Pelleas and the gallows! You’re a fool!”
Morgan smiled back at her very prettily.
“After all, your man did first murder,” she said.