My Lord, the Hermit

He was like no other hermit she had ever seen. He was young, strong, dark and vowed to silence. His name was Keren, but he was always called the Hermit.
And as he touched her arm, and healed it, a bond was forged between them – a hopeless bond, for she was Joanna of Leybourne, ward of the Count, and he was a man sentenced to build a church with his bare hands, as expiation for the crime of murdering his wife. . .