The Wise Woman

Nineteen

There was silence for a long minute, then there was a dull roll of thunder and a livid purple-yellow flash of lightning which outlined the horizon of the western hills. The sky above them was greenish yellow, as bright as decay, and rolling in quickly from the west were clouds as dark as midnight.

Hugo looked up at Alys. Her face was ugly with strain. Her heart was pounding. All she could think of was how to survive. How to escape the charge of witchcraft which must come next. Her laughter had been blown away by the ominous breeze which was blowing the storm towards them, but her cheeks were still wet.

'Don't cry,' Hugo said. He pulled off his leather gauntlet and put up his hand to brush her cheek.

'I was afraid,' Alys said. When his hand touched her face she turned towards it so that his palm brushed her lips.

'Afraid of what?' Hugo asked softly. 'I'd not hurt you.' Alys shook her head. 'No,' she said. 'I know that.' 'Then what did you fear?' Hugo asked. 'Her.' Alys nodded to the dark mouth of the cave. 'She had made some dolls, she said they would do her bidding. She said that if she made the dolls sick then the people would be sick.' Hugo nodded. 'I saw them,' he said. 'They were vile.' 'You saw them as she shook them out of the bag,' Alys said quickly, 'as she let the bag open and shook them out. She told me that she would be mistress of the castle, that she would command your father, and you, and me, and Lady Catherine. With the dolls.'

Hugo looked at Alys and she saw an old superstitious fear cross his face. 'This is nonsense,' he said uncertainly. 'But you should have told me.'

Alys shrugged. 'How could I? I never see you alone now. Your father is too old and frail to be frightened with such dark fears. And I would not trouble Lady Catherine, not now.'

Hugo nodded. 'But what were you doing with her?' he asked. 'When I rode up?'

'She had agreed to stop,' Alys said. 'She promised to bury them in holy ground, to put away the magic. But she would not come out alone. She forced me to come too. She did not dare stand on the holy ground. She made me dig the hole. Only I could step on holy ground, because she was a black witch – leagued with the devil – and I am not.'

Hugo nodded. 'You must have been very afraid,' he said. He put his warm hand out and closed it over hers as she gripped the pommel of the saddle.

Alys looked down at him, her face alight with joy at his touch. 'I am afraid of nothing now,' she said. 'And I have my power, my white power, good power, which is dedicated to you and to the service of your family. I was using my power for you, to keep you all safe. I was struggling with her evil – and none of you knew.'

Hugo put a foot in the stirrup and swung into the saddle behind Alys. 'Come,' he said over his shoulder to the men. 'We'll go home. I have to speak to my lord and to Father Stephen about this matter. Alan, you block the hole with rocks, boulders as big as you can carry, and wait here with Peter until the water rises and covers it. You can keep the dogs with you.'

The men nodded.

Hugo hesitated. 'As you love me…' he said. 'No word of this to anyone. If you want to follow me to Newcastle, on my travels, or to London – not one word. We tell everyone that the woman fell into the river and was drowned. All right?'

The young men, grave-faced, nodded.

'If you gossip,' Hugo said warningly, 'if you chatter, like silly girls, then I will not know which of you has whispered this story.' He looked from one to another. 'I will turn all of you away, and you will never find service with a noble house again,' he said. 'You will go back to your fathers, my cousins, and I will tell them that you are not worthy to be in my family.'

The men nodded. 'You have my word,' they said, one after another, like an oath. 'You have my word.'

Hugo nodded and clicked to his horse. The young huntsman fell into line behind Hugo. They rode up the moorland path to Tinker's Cross again. Hugo tightened his arms around Alys.

'I have missed you,' he said in sudden surprise. 'I have been planning this voyage so carefully, and been so busy with the farms and the castle and the new house, and watching so much over Catherine that I had forgotten the pleasure of your touch, Alys.'

Alys nodded. She leaned back against him, feeling his warmth, the way he moved easily with the strides of the big horse.

'I saw you pale and quiet and I thought nothing of it,' Hugo said remorsefully. 'I thought you were sulking with me, because of that night. And I felt angry with you, for refusing me a second time.' He dropped his head forward and pressed her to his cheek. 'I am sorry,' he said simply. 'I have not cared for you as I should.'

'I have been very unhappy,' Alys said, her voice low. Hugo held her close. That's my fault,' he said. 'I wanted to be free of your love, of the promises I had made you. It all seemed – ' He broke off. 'Oh, I don't know! Too complicated. There was Catherine near-drowned and sick. There's my father failing but looking as if he will live forever. There's my new house, which I want more than anything in the world, and my father won't give me the funds! And then there you were, looking at me with your big eyes like some vagrant deer. I am selfish, Alys, that's the truth. I didn't want more troubles.'

Alys turned her head a little and smiled at him. 'I am not your trouble,' she said confidently. 'I'm the only one who can help you. I'm the only one who cares for you. I have grown sick this winter nursing your father, caring for your wife, and fighting this great evil of Morach which Catherine insisted on bringing into your family. If it had not been for me and my white power I don't know what Morach would have done.'

Hugo shook his head. 'I'd like to believe it can't be so,' he said. 'But I saw her. And then I saw the hare. This is a bad business, Alys.'

'Well ended,' Alys said firmly. 'We'll think no more of it. I fought against her and you have killed her, and the thing is done.' Her hands on the pommel of the saddle were white with tension, her fingers ached.

'Yes, it's done and we'll keep it quiet,' Hugo said. 'I don't want to distress Catherine, not at this time. And my father would be disturbed. We'll collect those little dolls and give them to Father Stephen. He'll know what to do with them. And we'll say no more on this.'

Alys nodded again.

'You are lucky it was me that found you,' Hugo said. 'If it had been anyone else they would have tried to catch two witches, not just the one.'

Alys shook her head. 'I have taken an ordeal,' she said coldly. 'I am no black witch. I counselled Lady Catherine against having Morach in the castle, and I warned her that though I am just a herbalist and a healer, Morach always had a reputation for dark work. I warned her and I warned you. No one would listen.'

Hugo nodded. 'That's true,' he conceded. He was silent for a moment while his horse walked up the path to the high moor. 'It must have been an odd childhood for you, Alys, all alone on the moorland with a woman like Morach as your mother.'

'She was not my mother,' Alys said. 'I am glad of it.' She paused. 'My mother, my real mother, was a lady,' she said. 'She died in a fire.'

Hugo pulled his horse to a standstill and looked down at the ground.

The spade lay where Alys had dropped it, beside the little hole. The pannier bag was on the ground, split from top to bottom. But there were no little wax dolls anywhere.

The wind stirred the heather all around them and the rain began to fall in great thick drops of water. Alys pulled her hood up over her head and felt the wind tug her cape. There were no little dolls anywhere on the sodden ground.

Hugo jumped down from the horse and kicked around in the clumps of heather. 'I can't see them,' he said. 'Hey! William! Come and help me search for them.'

'Search for what, my lord?' William asked, dismounting and leading his horse forward.

'For the dolls, the dolls that the old woman had in her sack,' Hugo said impatiently. 'You saw them.'

The young man shook his head. 'I didn't see anything, my lord,' he said. 'I just saw the old woman running off and then the hounds followed a hare and ran it to ground.'

Hugo squinted against the driving rain. 'You saw nothing?' he asked.

'No, my lord,' William said, his round face wet, his hair plastered to his scalp.

Hugo hesitated, not knowing what to say, then he laughed shortly and slapped him on the back. 'Mount up, we'll go home,' he said and swung back into the saddle himself. 'Lead those ponies back to the castle.'

'Will you not hunt for the dolls?' Alys asked, her voice low.

Hugo shrugged his shoulders and turned his horse homeward. 'If they were made from lye or tallow they'll melt quick enough,' he said. 'They were maybe broken under the horses' hooves. Maybe they were fancy and cheating like half the rest of witchcraft. They're on sanctified ground – for what that is worth – let's forget it.'

Alys hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the holly tree. There was something white at the root; she leaned forward to see. Hugo tightened his grip around her waist.

'Don't fret,' he said. 'Let's away, it's going to pour with rain.'

He turned the horse but Alys did not take her eyes from the roots of the holly tree. She saw a tiny little white root, like a worm, like a little candlewax arm. She saw a tiny, misshapen, white hand. It waved at her.

'Let's go!' she said with sudden impatience.

Hugo wheeled the horse and it reared forward into a great loping canter, all the way across the top of the moor until it slowed for the ford south of the castle.

'What shall we tell Lady Catherine and your father?' Alys asked, her words whipped away by the wind.

'That Morach fell in the river and drowned,' Hugo said. 'And when the baby comes, you will be able to deliver him, won't you, Alys? You will care for him and for Catherine?'

'Yes,' Alys said. 'I was at every childbirth Morach attended since I was two years old. And I have delivered several babies on my own. I didn't want to care for Catherine while she hated me, but I can do well enough now. I will care for him as if he were my own child.'

Hugo nodded and held her more closely. 'I thank you,' he said formally.

'I won't fail you,' Alys said. 'I shall use all my powers to keep Catherine well. Your baby will be born and I will keep him well. For you, Hugo, and for me. For your fortune and your freedom depend on him. And I love you so well that I want you to be rich and free.'

Hugo nodded, and Alys sensed he was smiling. She leaned back into the rich warm jerkin and felt his body heat warm her through, and his arm tighten around her waist.

'I have news for you that I have been saving,' she said. She hesitated on the lie for no more than a moment. 'I am with child, Hugo,' she said. 'I am going to bear your child. We lay together only once but I am fertile for you and you are lusty and strong with me.'

Hugo was silent for a moment. 'Are you sure?' he asked incredulously. 'It's very soon.'

'It's nearly two months,' Alys said defensively. 'He will be born at Christmas.'

'Christmas.'' Hugo exclaimed. 'And you're sure it is a son?' 'Yes,' Alys said determinedly. "The dream I had at the Christmas feast last year was a true Seeing. You and I will have a son and we will be lovers, we will be as man and wife.'

'Catherine is my wife,' he reminded her. 'And she is carrying my son.'

'But I am carrying another son,' Alys said proudly. 'And your son on me will be strong and handsome. I know it already.'

Hugo chuckled. 'Of course,' he said soothingly. 'My clever Alys! My lovely girl! He will be strong and handsome and brilliant. And I will make him wealthy and powerful. He and his half-brother can be companions for each other. We will bring them up together.'

Hugo loosened the reins and the big horse moved forward faster in its rolling canter. 'My father will be glad,' Hugo said, raising his voice against the wind in their faces and the rain. 'His own whores had sons by the quiverful – but his own wife had only the one.'

'And who loved him the best, and who did he love the best?' Alys challenged.

Hugo's broad shoulders shrugged. 'That matters not at all,' he said dismissively. 'Love is not for us. Land, heirs, fortune – these are the things that matter for lords, Alys. The poor can have their loves and their passions. We are interested in weightier things.'

Alys leaned back and rested her head against his shoulder. 'One day you will love as passionately as a peasant,' she said softly. 'One day you will be mad for love. You will be humbled to dirt for it.' Hugo laughed. 'I doubt it,' he said. 'I doubt that.' They rode in silence for a little while, Alys weighing the lie of pregnancy, which should guarantee her safety whatever anyone in the castle said against her or against Morach. Hugo would never lose the chance of another son, even if a proclaimed witch were carrying it. While he thought she was carrying his child he would die to protect her. But once the lie was discovered…

Alys shook her head, she could plot no further than one move at a time, plot and trust to her dreams of herself in the garden in Catherine's rose and cream gown. A scud of rain hit her in the face, and a low rumble of thunder sounded around the western hills and rolled nearer.

Alys had a sudden vision of Morach listening to the sound of the storm in the dark cave, her head against the stone ceiling, the water roaring and washing around her knees, and the hounds waiting for her outside. She blinked. For a moment she could feel the hard unyielding stone on the back of her own neck as she pressed upwards, away from the water. The water around her legs was icy cold, storming with currents, a rising torrent which tumbled around her knees, and poured unstoppably to pull at her skirt around her thighs. Some driftwood banged against her roughly and she stumbled and fell into the water and sprang up again, drenched and trembling, clumsy with the weight of the water in her gown.

It was as if the water had tasted her now and wanted more. A great wave buffeted the cave, hitting her sideways, and she knocked her face against the rock wall and felt the weight of the earth all around her. It was now nearly too late to crawl out and face the men but the terror of drowning was suddenly greater than her fear of the hounds, and she scrabbled at the wall, trying to find her way back out. Her hands, bruised and bleeding, battered against the wall of the cave and then suddenly stretched out into a void of water where the river beat its way outwards. She stretched out her hands like a blind woman, pummelling the swift current, longing for the cold touch of air. Then her knuckles scraped the roof of the passage out of the cave.

She had left it too late. The narrow hole out of the cave was already filled to the ceiling with the tumbling roil of flood water. All that was left for her was the little pocket of air trapped in the roof of the cave, and as she turned her face upwards to breathe into it another surge of water bellowed into the cave and the level of water leaped from waist-height to her shoulders. Her gown was filled with water, the current swirling around her whole body. Pushed and pulled by the torrent she lost her footing and fell, with a roaring noise in her head as the water rushed into her ears, her nose and her mouth. Hunger for life threw her upwards again, to the last little hollow of air in the roof of the cave. But as she reached for it her head cracked against the ceiling of the cave and her open choking mouth tasted only water. Alys moaned.

'What's the matter?' Hugo's voice pulled her back to the present, to her dangerous gamble, to his arm comfortingly around her. 'Did you say something?'

'Nothing!' Alys said brightly.

A great squall like a dark curtain spread down along the valley, blotting out the hills all around them.

'The river's up,' said Hugo with satisfaction. 'The witch is drowned.' He shook the water out of his eyes and pressed the roan horse into a canter. 'All speed for home,' he said.

Gossip about Morach's sudden departure from the castle could not be prevented. Too many people had known that she had ridden out with Alys, and seen Alys return alone with Hugo. William had seen nothing, but the other huntsmen had seen that notorious sight – a witch change herself into a hare – and would not remain silent for ever. But the word could be kept from Catherine. Hugo summoned the women into the gallery while Catherine slept before supper and told them that if he heard one word – one word – spoken out of turn about Morach in Catherine's presence, he would beat that woman and turn her out of the castle in her shift.

The women opened their eyes wide and muttered among themselves.

'She is drowned,' Hugo said baldly. 'With my own eyes I saw her fall into the river and drown. And the man or woman who denies that is calling me a liar.' His hand lightly touched his belt where his broadsword would hang. 'I would kill a man for that, and beat a woman. I cannot stop you chattering among yourselves' – he swept them with his dark accusing look – 'no power on earth could prevent that. But one word of suspicion or doubt before Lady Catherine and you will wish you had been born mute.'

Only Eliza found the courage to speak up. 'What about Alys?' she asked.

'Alys stays with us,' Hugo said. 'She is a good friend to our family. She will care for Lady Catherine now, and for my son when he is born. It will be as it was before Morach came to the castle. You can forget Morach. She is gone.'

He waited in case there should be a reply and then he smiled his joyless commanding smile and walked from the gallery to seek his father.

Alys was there before him, sitting in the twilit chamber on a stool at the feet of the old lord, giving him the news before Hugo should come. 'Morach's gone,' she said without preamble.

The old lord looked sharply at her. Alys nodded. 'She and I were up on the high moor together. She was making some mischief with candlewax dolls and I went with her, to stop her. Hugo was out with his hounds and they saw her, and chased her down a cave and left her there to drown.' The old lord said nothing, waiting. 'She was a witch,' Alys said harshly. 'It's good that she's dead.' 'And you are not,' the old lord said slowly. Alys turned her pale face up to him. 'No, my lord,' she said gently. 'Not at my ordeal, when Catherine hated me and tested me so harshly; and not now. I have made my peace with Catherine and I am her friend. I am in love with your son, and I love and honour you. Tell me that I can stay in your household, under your protection. I am free of Morach and I am free of the past.'

The old lord sighed and rested his hand on her hand. 'What of your power?' he asked. 'You lost it when Morach came and when Hugo would not love you.'

Alys gleamed up at him. 'I have it back,' she said. 'Morach had stolen it from me and stolen my health as well. She knew I would stand between her and you. She knew I would protect you and yours from her witchcraft. She made me ill and weak and she was starting to work her ill will against you all. Now that she is dead I have my power back and I can keep you safe. Tell me that I may live here under your protection, as your vassal.'

The old lord smiled down into Alys' bright face. 'Yes,' he said softly. 'Of course. I wanted you by me from the first day I saw you. Don't make trouble between Catherine and Hugo, I want a legitimate heir, and after this one I want another. You and Hugo can be what you will to each other – but don't distress my daughter-in-law while she is carrying my grandson.'

Alys nodded obediently, took his caressing hand and kissed it. 'I have news for you,' she said. 'Good news.' The old lord waited, his eyebrows raised. 'I am with child,' Alys said. 'Hugo's child. He lay with me the night he came home from Newcastle. I am not like Catherine, hard to please, hard to conceive. I am with child to Hugo. I have missed two times. The baby will be born near the Christmas feast.'

The old lord gleamed. 'That's good!' he said. 'That's good news indeed. And d'you think it will be a son, Alys? Can you tell if it will be a boy?'

Alys nodded. 'A boy,' she said. 'A strong, handsome boy. A grandson for you, my lord. I shall be proud to be his mother.'

The old lord nodded. 'Well enough, well enough,' he said rapidly. 'And it means that Hugo will likely stay here until your child is born. Between you and Catherine, I shall keep him fast at home.'

'Yes,' Alys said eagerly. 'Catherine could not keep him home but he will stay for me. I will keep Hugo home for us both, my lord. I want him to leave for London or on his voyage as little as you do.'

The old lord barked his sharp laugh. 'Enchant him then,' he said. 'And keep him by you.' He paused for a moment and looked at her with pity. 'Don't overleap yourself, Alys,' he said gently. 'You will never be his wife. You will always be Catherine's lady. Whatever goes on at court – and I say nothing about that -whatever goes on at court, we are simple people here. Catherine is your mistress, you serve her well. Hugo is your lover and also your lord. I don't deny I am fond of you, Alys, but if you forget what is owed to your masters I would throw you from the castle tomorrow.

'Serve Catherine honourably and well and let Hugo take his pleasure with you when he wishes. That was how I kept my women. A wife for the heirs, and a woman for pleasure. That's order and sense. That's how it should be done.'

Alys kept her head down and her resentment hidden.

'Yes, my lord,' she said submissively.

David took her by the sleeve as she passed him by on the ill-lit stairs.

'I hear your kinswoman is dead,' he said softly.

'Yes,' Alys replied steadily. Her voice did not quaver, her face was serene.

'A hard death for a woman – drowning in cold river water,' David said.

Alys faced him down. 'Yes,' she said.

'And what of you now?' David pursued.

Alys smiled into his face. 'I shall care for Lady Catherine,' she said. 'I shall serve and honour Lord Hugh, and his son. What else?'

David drew her a little closer, pulled at her sleeve so that she leaned down and his mouth was near to her ear. 'I remember you when you were a fey wild thing off the moor,' he said. 'I saw you naked, changing your rags for the whore's shift. I heard that you took the ordeal for witchcraft. I saw you sicken and pine for the young lord. Now I ask you. What next?'

Alys twitched her sleeve from his grip, straightened up. 'Nothing,' she said blandly. 'I will serve Lady Catherine and help her during the birth. I will obey my Lord Hugh and honour his son. There is nothing more.'

The dwarf nodded. His smile gleamed at her in the darkness. 'I wondered,' he said. 'I truly wondered about you. I thought you had the power to turn this castle on its ears. When you brought in the old woman, the witch, with all her power, I thought you were about to act. I have been watching you and wondering when you would make your move. I have had you in my mind for the new lady of the castle. So close as you are to the old lord! So powerful in your witchery to tame Hugo's wildness! And if you had a child – as you foresaw in your dream – such a wife you would be for him!'

Alys took a sharp breath but she held her gaze steady on his dark, angry, little face.

'What went wrong?' the dwarf asked curiously. 'What went wrong between you and the old witch? You were on your way, weren't you? The old witch was within Catherine's confidence, you and she would have attended the birth alone. What would it have been? Stillbirth? Strangled with the cord? Breech? Coming backwards and drowning in the blood?' He laughed, a sharp cruel laugh. 'But you were in too much of a hurry, weren't you?' he said. 'Wanted Catherine dead and out of the way and Hugo all your own? I saw you pining and fading and losing your looks. It was eating you inside like a bellyful of worms, wasn't it, little Alys? So you hexed Catherine into the river, didn't you? Hexed her into deep water, wearing her thick furs so that she would drown.'

Alys was as white as skimmed milk. 'Nonsense,' she said bravely.

'And the old one pulled her out,' the dwarf said. 'D'you know? I rather liked the old one, your mother.'

'She wasn't my mother,' Alys said. Her whole face felt stiff, unnatural. 'I just lived with her. My real mother died in a fire.'

'Fire?' the dwarf said acutely. 'I never heard that before?'

'Yes,' Alys said. Her voice held a depth of despair. 'My mother, my real mother, died in a fire. And nothing has ever been right for me since she was gone.'

The dwarf cocked his head on one side, viewing her like some strange specimen. 'So now you've lost one to fire and one to water,' he said unsympathetically. 'But shall I call you Lady Alys yet? Will Catherine go the way of your two mothers? Fire? Water? Or by earth? Or by air? And what of you? Will it be the castle or a hidden place in town – a bawdy house in everything but name?'

Alys took one angry step down the stair and then turned on the step and looked back up. Her face was bright with spite. 'You will say Lady Alys to me,' she said passionately. The dwarf recoiled from her sudden rage. 'You will say Lady Alys to me – and I shall say "Farewell!" to you. For I shall be Hugo's wedded wife. And you will be a beggar at my gate.'

She turned and pattered down the stairs, her fine gown floating after her, not looking back. David stayed on the step listening to her footsteps going down and around the curving stone stair.

'I doubt that,' he said to the cold stone walls. 'I doubt that very much indeed.'

Catherine was heartbroken at the loss of Morach. She wept and clung to Alys when she was told, and Alys put her arms around her and they held each other like a pair of orphan sisters.

'You must stay with me now,' she said. She could scarcely speak for sobbing. 'You have her skills, you were there to help me just as she was there to help me when I was nearly drowned, when I nearly lost my life. You're her daughter, I loved you both. Oh! But Alys! I shall miss her.'

'I shall miss her too,' Alys said. Her blue eyes were flooded with unspilling, convincing tears. 'She taught me all that she knew, she gave me all her skills. It's as if she handed the care of you over to me before she left us.'

Catherine looked up trustingly. 'Do you think she knew?' she asked. 'Do you think she knew with her wisdom all along that she would leave us?'

Alys nodded. 'She told me she saw a darkness,' she said. 'I think she knew. When she took you from the river I think she knew then there would be a price to pay. And now the river has taken her.'

Catherine wailed even louder. 'Then she died to save me!' she exclaimed. 'She gave her life for me!'

Alys smoothed Catherine's hair with one soft, hypocritical hand. 'She would have wanted it that way,' she said. 'She, and I, are glad to make that sacrifice. I have lost my mother for you and I do not,' her voice gave a little pathetic quaver, 'I will not regret it.'

Catherine was sobbing without restraint. 'My friend, Alys!' she said. 'My only friend.'

Alys rocked her gently, looking down at the puffy, tear-blotched face. 'Poor Catherine,' she said. 'What a state you are in!'

She raised her voice and called for the women. Ruth came at once.

'Send for Hugo,' Alys said. 'Catherine needs him.' He came at once and recoiled as Catherine, blubbering, reached out her arms to him with a wail of grief. He dropped to his knees before her chair and held her. 'Hush, hush,' he said gently into her hair. He looked up at Alys, not seeing her. 'Have you nothing you can give her?' he asked. 'Nothing that can calm her? It ' cannot be good for the child for her to distress herself so.'

'She needs to calm herself,' Alys said distantly. Catherine sobbed and held Hugo closer. 'I know,' she said, sniffing. 'But she made me laugh. She made it seem as if everything was a jest. She told me things about her life that made me laugh till I cried. I can't believe she won't walk in now and laugh in our faces.'

Alys shot one quick look at the door. The tapestry quivered. For a moment it seemed all too likely that Morach would walk in, trailing water and icy river weed, and laugh in their faces with her blue drowned mouth opened wide.

'No,' Hugo said quickly. 'She won't do that, Catherine. She is drowned. Try not to distress yourself so.' He turned to Alys. 'Surely you have something to calm her?' he said.

'I can give her a distillation of the flower of Star of Bethlehem,' Alys said coldly. She went to her room. In the linen chest were the little bottles and powders and herbs which she and Morach had amassed. On the bed was Morach's white cotton nightshift. In the draught from the open door it billowed for a moment and raised itself a little up on the bed, as if it would get up and walk towards her. Alys stared at it hard for several moments. The arms shifted slightly as if they would point at her accusingly. Alys leaned back against the door and stared it down until she could force it to lie flat and limp again.

'Here,' she said, coming back into the gallery.

Hugo took the glass from her without looking up and gave Catherine sip after sip, watching her face and talking to her in a low, gentle voice. When she stopped sobbing, sat up, and wiped her face with her handkerchief, he looked around at Eliza and said, 'Here! Make her ladyship's bed ready! She should sleep now.'

Eliza ducked a curtsey and went through to Catherine's room.

'Have you anything to help her sleep?' he asked Alys over his shoulder.

She went back to the room she had shared with Morach. A log had shifted on the little fire and the shadows leaped and danced around the bed. For a moment it looked as if there were someone sitting on the chest at the head of the bed with their face turned towards the door. Alys leaned back against the door and pressed her hand hard against her heart. Then she fetched the drops of crushed poppy seeds for Lady Catherine, so that her ladyship might sleep well in the comfort of her great bed.

Hugo took the draught without thanks and led Catherine – one arm around her thick waist – out of the gallery and into her bedroom.

Alys watched them go, saw Catherine's head droop to Hugo's shoulder, heard her plaintive voice and his gentle reassurances. Alys tightened her lips, curbing her irritation.

'Won't you be afraid to sleep tonight on your own?' Eliza asked Alys as the door shut behind the couple. 'No,' Alys said.

Eliza gave a little scream. 'In a dead woman's bed!' she exclaimed. 'With the pillow still dented with her head! After she had drowned that very day! I'd be afraid she would come to say her farewells! That's what they do! She'll come to say her farewells before she rests in peace, poor old woman.' Alys shrugged her shoulders. 'She was a poor old woman and now she's dead,' she said. 'Why should she not rest in peace?'

Ruth looked sharply up at her. 'Because she is in the water,' she said. 'How will she rise up on the Day of Judgement if her body is all blanched and drenched?'

Alys felt her face quiver with horror. 'This is nonsense,' she said. 'I'll not hear it. I'm going to bed.'

'To sleep?' Mistress Allingham asked, surprised.

'Certainly to sleep,' Alys replied. 'Why should I not sleep? I am going to get into my nightshift, tie the strings of my cap and sleep all the long night.'

She stalked from the room and shut the door behind her. She undressed – as she had said she would – and tied the strings of her nightcap. But then she pulled up her stool to the fireside and threw another log on the fire, lit another candle so that all the shadows in the room were banished and it was as bright as day, and waited and waked all night – so that Morach should not come to her, all cold and wet. So that Morach should not come to her and lay one icy hand on her shoulder and say once more: 'Not long now, Alys.'

The next day Alys summoned a maid from the kitchen and they cleared the room of every trace of Morach. The kitchen maid was willing – expecting gifts of clothes or linen. To her horror at the waste of it all, Alys piled it all up and carried it down to the kitchen fire.

'You're never burning a wool gown!' The cook bustled forward, eyeing the little pile of clothes. 'And a piece of good linen!'

'They are lousy,' Alys said blankly. 'D'you want a gown with a dead woman's fleas? D'you want her lice?'

'Could be washed,' the cook said, standing between the fire and Alys.

Alys' blue eyes were veiled. 'She went among the sick,' she said. 'D'you think you can wash out the plague? D'you want to try it?'

'Oh, burn it! Burn it!' the cook said with sudden impatience. 'But you must cleanse my hearth. I cook the lord's own dinners here, remember.' 'I have some herbs,' Alys said. 'Step back.' The cook retreated rapidly to the fire on the other side of the kitchen where the kitchen lad was turning the spit, leaving Alys watched, but alone. Alys thrust the little bundle into the red heart of the fire.

It smouldered sulkily for a moment. Alys watched until the hem of Morach's old gown caught, flickered and then burst into flame. Alys pulled a little bottle from her pocket. 'Myrrh,' she said and dripped one drop on each corner of the hearthstone, and then three drops into the heart of the fire. 'Rest in peace, Morach,' she said in a whisper too low for anyone to hear. 'You know and I know what a score we have to settle between us. You know and I know when we will meet again, and where. But leave me with my path until that day. You had your life and you made your choices. Leave me free to make mine, Morach!'

She stepped back one pace and watched the flames. They flickered blue and green as the oil burned. On the other side of the kitchen the cook drew in a sharp breath and clenched her fist in the sign against witchcraft. Alys paid her no heed.

'You cared for me like a mother,' she said to the fire. The flames licked hungrily around the cloth and the bundle fell apart and blazed up, shrivelling into dark embers. 'I own that now. Now it is too late to thank you or to show you any kindliness in return,' Alys said. 'You cared for me like a mother and I betrayed you like an enemy. I summon your love for me now, your mother-love. You told me I did not have long. Give me that little space freely. Leave me to my life. Morach. Don't haunt me.'

For a moment she paused, her head on one side as if she were listening for a reply. The dark smoky smell of the myrrh filled the kitchen. The kitchen lad kept his face away from her and turned the spit at extra speed, its squeak rising to a squeal. Alys waited. Nothing happened. Morach had gone.

Alys turned from the fire with a clear smile, nodded at the cook. 'All done, clothes burned and the hearth cleaned,' she said pleasantly. 'What are you making for the lord's dinner?'

The cook showed her the dozen roasted chickens waiting to be pounded into paste, the almonds, rice and honey ready for mixing, the sandalwood to make the mixture pink. 'Blanche mange for the main course,' she said. 'And Allowes – I have some good slices of mutton. And Bucknade. Some roasted venison. I have some fish, some halibut from the coast. Would you want me to make something special for Lady Catherine?' she asked ingratiatingly.

Alys considered. 'Some rich sweet puddings,' she said. 'Her ladyship loves sweet things and she needs all her strength. Some custards, perhaps some leche lombarde with plenty of syrup.'

'She's growing very fat and bonny,' the cook said admiringly.

'Yes,' Alys said sweetly. 'She is fatter every day. There will scarce be room for my Lord Hugo in her bed if she grows much bigger. Send a glass of negus and some custards and some cakes up to her chamber, she is hungry now she is in her fifth month.' The cook nodded. 'Yes, Alys,' she said. Alys paused on her way to the door, one eyebrow raised.

The cook hesitated, Alys did not move. There was a powerful silence as the cook met Alys' blue eyes and then glanced away. 'Yes, Mistress Alys,' she said, unwillingly giving Alys a title. Alys looked slowly around the kitchen as if defying anyone to challenge her. No one spoke. She nodded to the kitchen boy and he scrambled from the spit to open the door for her into the hall. She passed through without a word of thanks.

She paused as the door closed behind her and listened in case the cook should cry out against her, complain of her ambition, or swear that she was a witch. She heard a hard slap and the spit-lad yell at undeserved punishment. 'Get on with it,' the cook said angrily. 'We don't have all day.'

Alys smiled and went across the hall and up the stairs to the ladies' gallery.

Catherine was resting in her room before dinner, the women gathered around the fireside in the gallery were stealing an hour of idleness. Ruth was reading a pamphlet on the meaning of the Mass, Eliza was daydreaming, gazing at the fire. Mistress Allingham was dozing, her head-dress askew. Alys nodded impartially at them all and walked past them to her own chamber.

The maid had swept up the rushes from the floor as she had been ordered, and left the broom. Alys took it up and meticulously swept every corner of the room, sweeping the dust and the scraps of straw into the centre of the room. Carefully she collected it all and flung it on the fire. Then she took a scrap of cloth and wiped all around the room, everywhere that Morach's hand might have rested or her head brushed. Every place where her skirt might have touched or her feet walked. Round and around the room Alys went like a little spider spinning a web. Round and around until there was no place in the room which she had not wiped. Then she folded the cloth over and over, as if to capture the smell of Morach inside the linen – and flung it into the heart of the fire.

The maid, complaining, had brought new rugs and a spread for the bed and Alys smoothed them down over the one solitary pillow. She shook out the curtains of the bed and tied them back in great swags. Then she stepped back and looked around the room with a little smile.

As a room for two healers, two midwives for the birth of the only son and heir, it had been generous. It was as big as the room next door where the four women slept, two to a pallet-bed. As a room for one woman, sleeping alone, it was noble. It was nearly as big as Lady Catherine's, the bed was as large, the hangings nearly as fine. It was colder than Catherine's room – facing west out over the river – but airier. Alys had chosen not to scatter new herbs and bedstraw on the floor, but the room smelled clean. It was clear and empty of the clutter of women, no pots of face paint, no creams, no half-eaten sweetmeats like in Catherine's room. Alys' gowns, capes, hoods and linen were in one chest, all her herbs, her pestle and mortar, her crystal and her goods were in the other.

There was one chair, with a back but no arms, and one stool. Alys drew the chair up to the fire, rested her feet on the stool, and looked into the flames.

The door opened. Eliza Herring peeped into the room. 'There you are!' she said awkwardly.

Alys raised her head and looked at Eliza, but said nothing.

Eliza looked around. 'You've swept it,' she said, surprised. Alys nodded.

'Aren't you coming out to sit with us?' Eliza asked. 'You must be bored in here on your own.' 'I'm not bored,' Alys said coolly. Eliza fidgeted slightly, came a little further into the room and then stepped back again. 'I'll come and sleep in here with you, if you like,' she offered. 'You won't want to be on your own. We could have some laughs, at night. Margery won't mind me moving out.' 'No,' Alys said gently.

'She really won't,' Eliza said. 'I already asked her, because I guessed you would want company.'

Alys shook her head. Eliza hesitated. 'It's bad to grieve too much,' she said kindly. 'Morach was a foul old woman but she loved you – anyone could see that. You shouldn't grieve for her too long, Alys. You shouldn't sit here all alone, grieving for her.'

'I'm not grieving,' Alys said. 'I feel nothing. Nothing for her, nothing for you women, nothing for Catherine. Don't waste your worry on me, Eliza. I feel nothing.'

Eliza blinked. 'You're shocked,' she said, trying to excuse Alys' coldness. 'You need company.'

'I don't want company and I cannot have you sleeping in here,' Alys said. 'Hugo will want to be on his own in here with me very often. I have prepared the room for the two of us.'

Eliza's eyes widened, her mouth made a soundless 'O'. 'What about my lady?' she demanded when she could find her voice. 'She may not be well, Alys, but she has enough life in her to throw you back into the street. Hugo would never cross her while she is carrying his child.'

Alys' lips smiled without warmth. 'She will become accustomed,' she said. 'Everything is going to be different now.'

Eliza blinked. 'Just because Morach drowned?' she asked.

Alys shook her head. 'It is nothing to do with Morach. I am expecting Hugo's child. It will be a son. Do you tell me that he will let Catherine rule me, when she is carrying one son and I another?'

Eliza gasped. 'But hers is legitimate!' she protested. Alys shrugged. 'What of that? You can never have too many sons and Hugo has no other. I think they will treat them both as heirs until they know that the succession is safe, don't you?'

Eliza held the door against her and peered around it. 'Is this dukering?' she asked. 'Divining and dukering?'

Alys laughed confidently. 'This is mortal woman's knowledge,' she said. 'Hugo has been lying with me ever since he came back from Newcastle. Now I am with his child I want a room to myself and perhaps a little maid to wait on me. Why should Catherine object? It will make no difference to her.'

'She made it bad enough for you before,' Eliza warned.

Alys nodded. 'Yes,' she said. 'But now she is ill and weary all the time, and I am the only one who can quiet her fears. She would cling to me whatever I did. And I will care for her kindly enough.'

Eliza nodded with begrudging admiration. 'You've come a long way, Alys,' she said.

'They call me Mistress Alys now,' Alys said. 'Would you ring for a tub and a pitcher of hot water? I shall take a bath.'

'Ring yourself!' Eliza exclaimed, instantly indignant.

Alys whirled up from the chair and took Eliza by the shoulders, shook her and held her, putting her angry face very near. 'I will warn you once, Eliza,' she said through her teeth. 'Everything is different here now. I am Alys no more. I am carrying Lord Hugh's grandchild by his son who is barren with every other woman but me and his wife. I am second only to his wife. I can count you as my friend, or I can count you as my enemy. But you will not live here long if we are enemies.'

The fight went out of Eliza in a rush. 'You're very lucky,' she said with half-hearted resentment. 'You came as nothing and now you're to be called Mistress Alys.'

Alys shook her head. 'I came as a learned woman, a healer and my lord's clerk,' she said proudly. 'I am the daughter of a noble lady. I am fit for this. I am as fit to be the Lady here, as Jane Seymour is for the Crown. Now ring for hot water, I shall take a bath.'

Eliza nodded, slowly. 'Yes, Mistress Alys,' she said.

Two men servants carried the big barrel up the winding stairs and into Alys' room and set it down close to the fire. A kitchen maid came with a sheet of linen and spread it over the sides and bottom of the bath. Two men behind her brought great buckets of scalding water. They poured it in and went back for two more. Alys sent them for a fifth to leave by the side of the barrel with a ladle to add more hot water as she wished. She shut the door behind them and opened the chest where she kept the herbs. She had dried honeysuckle and rose petals in a purse of linen and she took a handful and scattered them on the water. She had a tiny bottle of oil of chamomile and she rinsed her hair with it. She sat in the hot water with her head resting against the back of the barrel and rubbed her hands all over her body, crushing the flower petals against her skin. Her hands went over and around her breasts until the nipples stood hard and tingled to her touch. She shook out her wet hair and let it tumble over the side of the barrel and drip carelessly on the floor.

As the water cooled she roused herself from the bath, wrapped herself in a warm sheet and sat in solitary silence before her fire. She sniffed at the skin of her forearm, like a sensuous little animal. She smelled of meadow flowers from the petals, and her fair hair smelled of honey. Her body was lithe and slim and lovely. Her face was grim.

'Tonight,' Alys said softly to herself. Tonight, Hugo.'