[Susan hears that unsteadiness. It seems to her that the kindest thing she can do is not to draw attention to it, and not to rub any more salt in the wound; she's given her sympathy, and unless the woman wants to talk more about it, that's that.]

[She nods, taking the cloth and doing as she's bidden, pressing it to her face.]

Aye. Though I've no faith he's alive. Last I saw of him, 'twas three men - three boys - against an army, and half the Barony on his heels.

[She bites her lip. Let him live, she thinks, not for the first time today. Prays, almost, although she's not sure who she would pray to. I died. Our baby died. Let Roland live.]