The Wise Woman

Twenty-three

Catherine was sleeping when they came home. Alys and Hugo went quietly past her closed door to Alys' bedroom and told Eliza to call them as soon as Catherine awoke. Hugo strode over to the arrow-slit and looked out. Alys took the ribbons from her hair and pulled down her gown to show her warm creamy shoulders. 'My lord?' she said softly.

Hugo glanced around. 'Not now,' he said coldly. 'Who was that lad in the field?' Alys ignored his rejection. 'No one I know,' she said. 'The maid I danced with, the little blonde one, said he was an old lover of yours. His wife speaks against you. Says you have stolen his peace, says you hexed him into loving you and he can neither sleep, nor eat, nor love her.'

Alys laughed. 'Not I,' she said. 'But from what you say I guess it must have been Tom of Reedale. We were playmates when we were children, I've not seen him in ten years. He married a shrew. She'd blame anyone for the dryness of her marriage. It can't be laid at my door.' 'It looked bad,' Hugo said.

Alys shrugged, tossing her hair back off her shoulders. Hugo turned away from her, looking out of the arrow-slit window again. Alys hesitated. She stepped forward and put her arms around his waist, pressed against his back. 'Tonight,' she said softly, 'tonight, Hugo, I will summon my sisters to be with us. My sisters and I will play together tonight. I will summon them and they will spread their smooth bodies over me and lie down on me and give me endless, endless pleasure.' She felt his arousal in the tension of his shoulders, but he did not turn round.

'And what for you?' Alys asked coquettishly. 'No, nothing for you! Not a touch, not a kiss, Hugo! You will lie as if you are enchained, and you will watch while they bury themselves – fingers, lips, tongues – in me. And you will watch my body writhe under their caresses, and you will hear me cry out with pleasure.'

Hugo sighed with desire, leaning his head forward so it was touching the cool stone of the lintel.

'I will let them bind me,' Alys said thoughtfully. 'You will see me on a rack of their pleasure. You will see me strain and pull against their silken knots as they penetrate me and pleasure me and make me cry for release." Hugo turned around in her arms and pressed her close to him, nuzzling her naked shoulders, inhaling the scents of her skin and hair; but his face was still sombre.

That was an ugly scene in the field,' he said. 'You must be more careful.'

Alys pulled away from him, irritated. 'There's nothing I can do to prevent gossip,' she said. 'People will become accustomed to the change. When they see the son we have, when they grow used to me being always at your side, when they know that I am always here – the lady of the castle in everything but name.'

Hugo shook his head, unconvinced. 'I want Catherine to take her supper in the hall tonight,' he said. 'There's been too much gossip. There's been too much ugly talk about witchcraft and Catherine being set aside.'

Alys shrugged and smiled up at him. 'I don't care what they say,' she said confidently. 'I know that I am carrying your child and that I am well and strong.

People can say what they like, they can think what they like. It does not matter what they say. You will protect me, your father will protect me. Old women gossiping in chimney corners cannot hurt me.'

Hugo shook his head. 'It hurts us all,' he said bluntly. 'You're a fool if you think yourself safe, Alys. Every word said against me, every whisper against my name, is a threat to the peace of the country. These are times when people will make a mob over anything. These are times when people are anxious about witchcraft, fearful. 'There are vagrants everywhere thrown on to the roads by the closing of the monasteries, stirring up anger about the loss of sanctuary. There are changes that no one could have foretold. The little monasteries and nunneries are going and there is anger among the people – they cling to the old religion, they cling to the old superstitions.

'I don't like to be gossiped about. I like to ride out and see smiles. I like a little honour done my name. I like a pretty wench to curtsey to me and not to fly away the moment you come near for fear your shadow falls on her. You did badly at the field today, Alys. You were named as a witch before many people and you did not deny it.'

'And what about you?' Alys demanded, her anger mounting. 'What about you who are desperate for my witchcraft, who beg me to work magic on you? You have bidden me to call my sisters to your new house -to christen it backwards! You, who want me to spread my magic all around your new house, to destroy the holiness of the stolen stones. You want all the pleasures and none of the pains, Hugo! You want bedroom witchcraft and daylight sainthood. You can't be a person out of the ordinary, out of the crowd, and then expect them to call down blessings on your name when you ride by on your big horse.'

Hugo shook his head. 'You don't understand,' he said again. 'For all your learning, you are a foolish slut in this. Why d'you think it is death to speak against the King? Not because he is not safe on his throne! Not because he lacks soldiers! But because danger lies in gossip and rumour. Treason starts with whispers. And they are whispering about you.''

Alys walked away from him, to the chest for her clothes, and took out her comb. 'They always talk of the special ones,' she said in a low angry voice. ‘I have been special all my life. I have been the favourite for all my life. People have always envied me and wondered what powers I have. I will ride it out. I am the favourite in the castle, I am like a daughter to your father. I am your lady.' Hugo said nothing, but he shook his head. Alys pulled up a stool to the fireside and half turned her head from him. She ran her fingers through the thick tresses of her hair to free them from the curls of the plaits, and then started to comb it over and over, until the comb was running smoothly. Hugo, still angry, found himself watching the hypnotic strokes of the comb sliding through the silky golden mass of thick hair. Alys sat on her stool before the empty fireplace and closed her eyes and hummed a song softly in the back of her throat. Hugo leaned back against the wall, arms folded, and watched her, his face impassive. Alys, acutely aware of him even though her eyes were shut, thought that in a few moments she would give him some wine with a pinch of earthroot. It had been some days since Hugo had been drugged into madness and desire. She felt a need, like a tingle in her fingertips, to pull the strings and set Hugo's lust dancing once more. And this time she would make him crawl towards her begging for a taste of her. Alys smiled with her eyes still shut. Hugo would not call her a slut and a fool without paying for it with agonizing desire.

The knock on the door startled them both from the beginning of Alys' sensual spellbinding. It was Eliza Herring.

'Mistress Alys! Lady Catherine is awake and asking for you.'

Alys pulled up the shoulders of her gown and shook the creases from the skirt. She threw her hair away from her face. 'I'll go and sit with Catherine,' she said irritably. ‘I’ll tell her that she must go to the hall for supper. She exposes us all to abuse if she will not do her duty.'

She could read nothing from Hugo's face. 'I don't think it is your place to instruct the Lady Catherine on her duty,' he said softly. 'You may tell her that I request it. Your wishes are of little weight in this matter.'

Alys hesitated, unbalanced by Hugo's irritability. 'Tonight…' she said.

Hugo shook his head. 'I will have you tonight, or whenever I choose,' he said sharply. 'But it makes no difference to your service to Lady Catherine. You should not keep her waiting.'

Alys shot one level glance at him. Hugo stared back, without fear, without affection. Alys, her face dark with anger, put down the comb and went to Catherine.

She was propped up on her fine embroidered pillows. Her face was flushed from her sleep and her eyes were red.

'I've been lonely,' she said without preamble.

'I'm sorry to hear that,' Alys said, suppressing her irritation. The room was stifling. It faced east over the courtyard and grew dark in the afternoons, though the summer sky was pale and golden through the window. Catherine had ordered the fire to be banked high and hot in the grate; candles burned on the table. There was a crowded, sour smell to the room. The strewing herbs on the floor were limp and scentless. On the cupboard there was a clutter of sweetmeat plates and Catherine's pots of creams, salves and perfumes, a goblet on its side, the dregs sticky on the shelf, and an empty pitcher of ale.

'I had a bad dream,' Catherine said. 'I dreamed that Hugo had left me, gone to London. Gone to the King's court.' She gave a little sob. 'Like Father,' she said.

Alys sat on the bed, taking Catherine's plump, damp hand. 'Don't grieve,' she said. 'He has not gone. He is not going anywhere. Think of the baby. It is bad for the baby if you cry. Hugo is settled and happy here. He is not planning to leave. And anyway, even if he did, Henry is a gentle king. Hugo could do no wrong at court.'

Catherine lay back against the pillows. Her face was flushed, a little trickle of sweat ran down between her fat breasts inside her night-gown.

'My back hurts,' she said pitifully. 'It aches again.'

Alys concealed her impatience. 'Have you been in bed all day, Catherine?' she asked.

Catherine nodded.

'If you do not walk around you will get heavy and tired, and of course you will ache,' Alys said. 'Let me help you up.'

Catherine shook her head again. ‘I can't walk around,' she said fretfully, 'I am lame. My ankles hurt and my knees. My legs hurt all over. You don't understand, Alys. I am too old and too tired to carry and bear this baby. I am not strong.' She gave a little snuffly sob. 'I am not strong,' she said again.

Alys leaned forward and stroked Catherine's forehead, brushing back the brown hair which clung in limp tendrils to her face.

'What about a bath?' Alys suggested. 'I could tell them to bring a hot bath up for you, with some herbs in it to make you feel less tired. I could wash your hair and you could put on a pretty gown for supper tonight. Wouldn't that help?'

Catherine turned her face towards Alys' caressing hand. 'Yes,' she said, like a child trying to please. 'All right. Tell them to bring me a bath.'

Alys sent the serving-maid down with orders to bring the biggest bath-tub draped with the finest linen cloth to Lady Catherine's room. Sheets must be aired to dry her and wrap her. Alys went to her room to fetch dried flowers and some verbena oil to pour into the bath water and to set before the fire to scent the room.

Hugo was dozing on Alys' bed as she came in, his feet up with his dusty boots on the cover. He opened one lazy eye when he saw her but did not trouble to move. 'What are you doing?' he asked. 'Is Catherine well?'

'She's fretful,' Alys said. 'I thought a bath would soothe her. She's complaining that we left her all day alone. She has not dressed. She has not even washed today. I will give her a bath and wash her hair and get her dressed for supper.'

'Good,' he said. He stretched out and closed his eyes again. The dirt from his boots was smeared all over Alys' new counterpane.

She hesitated for a moment, resentful. Everyone in the castle has their own way with their lives but me, she thought. Hugo can rest and dream of the stupid fair-headed peasant. Catherine can waddle into a bath. I have to run between the two. She nodded without speaking and took the herbs and the oils to Catherine's bedroom. Eliza followed her, holding the door.

The great bath-tub lined with linen had been set before the fire and was filled to the brim with steaming water. Eliza put the herbs and oils beside it, and at Alys' nod helped Catherine from the bed.

Catherine's legs were worse. Around her knees and around her ankles the skin was white and swollen. Her large belly stood out from the rest of her body with the navel protruding. Her breasts were tight and hot, blue-veined and distended. The nipples had swollen and were brown and bruised. Her hands were swollen too, with a deep red mark where her wedding ring was cutting into her finger. Alys took her hand.

'Does this hurt?' she asked.

Catherine nodded. 'It's grown too tight,' she said. 'It throbs.'

Alys held her hand and put one arm around Catherine's wide waist to guide her into the water. Catherine sank, like a beached whale returning to the deep, and sighed with pleasure.

'Fetch your lute,' Alys said to Eliza, 'and sing to us.'

Catherine laid her head back against the edge of the tub. Alys folded a thick square of linen and placed it under Catherine's solid white neck. 'There,' she said. 'That's more comfortable for you.'

Catherine shut her eyes but her mouth quivered. 'I'm so tired,' she said plaintively. 'So tired.'

Alys took a handful of soft waterlogged herbs and scrubbed Catherine's shoulders in a gentle circular motion. Catherine languidly raised one arm and then another for Alys to wash and rub. When she reached Catherine's fingers she massaged them with oil and pulled gently at the wedding ring. It was stuck tight. They would have to call a blacksmith to cut it off. Hugo's wedding ring would have to be cut off Catherine's hand. Alys hid a smile.

Catherine leaned forward in the bath, grunting as she bent over her fat belly while Alys washed her back. Then Alys went around the tub and lifted and washed one leg after another. The skin was yielding, spongy to the touch. Both ankles were swollen as thick as if they were sprained, and both knees. Alys pressed them hard. Catherine did not complain of any discomfort. Alys' fingers left dark red marks.

Eliza tuned her lute and started to play very softly. Catherine lay back in the tub, one white foot in Alys' hands, and shut her eyes. Alys, feeling her healing power welling and pouring through her fingers, rubbed at the sole of Catherine's swollen foot. She sensed Catherine's lack of balance, an unevenness about her body, something sickly, something poisonous inside her. She took up the other foot and rubbed it gently with oil.

When she had finished with Catherine's feet she went to the head of the tub and very gently poured water over Catherine's thick brown hair, concentrating on the skin of the scalp and the temples, washing it with soap and then rubbing it with oil, and then rinsing it all until the hair was clean.

The discontented look of a lonely child had drained away from Catherine as if Alys' touch was a panacea. Her face was rosy. When Eliza's song had finished, she hummed the chorus and then waved her hand: 'Sing it again!' she said. Eliza shot an irreverent wink at Alys and took up the lute for a second time and sang the song through once more. Catherine sighed with pleasure. 'The water is growing cold,' Alys said. 'You must come out, Catherine, or you will chill.'

Eliza laid down the lute and opened the door for a serving-girl. Alys held up the warmed sheet and draped it around Catherine from the front, Eliza threw a warmed sheet over her shoulders and back.

'Clear this,' Alys said abruptly to the serving-girl and Eliza.

She guided Catherine to the bed and patted at her face and hands and shoulders until they were dry, then she combed her fine brown hair and spread it out around her on the warmed sheet so that it would dry without tangles.

Catherine lay like a painted statue, pink from the heat, smiling. Alys dropped the bed-curtains from their bags and drew them around the bed. The serving-men came and took the bath away. When they had gone, slopping water and swearing, the room was very quiet. Alys tied back the curtains at the head so Catherine could see the fire crackling and the flames burning brightly, sweet-smelling with Alys' incense.

The door behind Alys opened and Hugo came into the room.

He stepped up to the bed and put an arm around Alys' waist to keep her at her place.

'Are you well, my Lady Catherine?' he asked gently.

Catherine's eyes fluttered open. She smiled her delight at seeing him.

'Hugo,' she said. 'You have been away from me for so long!'

He nodded. 'I have neglected you,' he said. 'I left you to care for yourself and the child and Alys here tells me that you are not taking the exercise you need.'

Catherine looked at Alys and smiled. 'She takes very good care of me,' she said.

'And she has a wonderful touch, has she not, Catherine?' Hugo asked.

Alys looked quickly at him. He was smiling, there was some heat at the back of his smile. Alys could smell his lust like woodsmoke on an east wind. She tensed and tried to move aside. Hugo's grip tightened on her waist and his smile never faltered.

'Oh yes,' Catherine agreed. 'She has been rubbing my back and my feet and my head. Alys has healing in her fingers, her touch is like silver.'

Alys could feel Hugo's heat through his doublet. She felt danger massing around her, clotting in corners of the room, thickening and rolling closer like woodsmoke from green wood.

'I will leave you,' she said. 'I will leave you two alone and order your supper to be served here tonight.'

'No,' Hugo said, not taking his eyes from Catherine's rosy, relaxed face. 'I have a fancy to see you massage my wife with your oils, Alys.' Catherine's eyes widened, but she said nothing. 'It is not fit…' Alys started.

'Do it,' Hugo said softly. 'You have done everything else I have ever desired. Now I desire this.'

He lifted the sheet which covered Catherine and dropped it to one side. Catherine, revelling in his attention after weeks of neglect, lay still and let him look at her, let his eyes wander over her bloated pale body, distended with her pregnancy. 'I please you?' she asked humbly.

Hugo placed his hand on the mound of her belly. 'You do,' he said. 'And this pleases me most of all.'

He glanced at Alys who was motionless, watching the two of them together.

'Do it, Alys,' he said. It was an order. Alys went slowly to the table and poured lavender and almond oils into the palm of her hand and rubbed them to make them warm. She was thinking feverishly how to escape from the two of them, how to get herself out of Catherine's chamber and into the safety of the ladies' gallery where the others were sitting around the fire and chattering about the haymaking. She glanced at Hugo as she walked around to the other side of the bed. His dark eyes were very bright. He looked capable of anything. Alys smelled danger as sharp as a curl of smoke from a spark in a haystack.

She started gently and softly to stroke oil into Catherine's white puffy shoulders and arms. Catherine lifted her head to expose her thick neck, closed her eyes and lay still.

With a little laugh Hugo walked to the door. Alys heard the click of the lock as he turned the key and then the rustle of his doublet as he threw it off. When he came back to the bed on the other side, he had rolled up his shirtsleeves and poured a handful of oil into his own hands.

'I will copy you, Alys, and learn your skills,' he said. His voice was like silk; Alys heard the tone of his rising lust and did not look across at him.

Catherine's nipples were hardening as they stroked her shoulders and her neck.

'A little lower?' Hugo suggested, a ripple of laughter in his voice. Alys stroked, with gentle small touches, down to the swell of Catherine's breast. Hugo copied her movements exactly. Catherine arched her back slightly on the bed, her stomach raised, her breasts moving towards their hands.

Hugo chuckled. His palm moved confidently down and Alys watched her lover cup his hand over his wife's plump breast.

'I should leave you now,' she whispered. She could not drag her eyes away from his confident, caressing hand. Catherine sighed with pleasure, her eyes still closed.

'You do it, Alys,' he told her, smiling his mischievous smile at Alys' tense, anxious face. 'Do it,' he said again.

Gently she stroked the slope of Catherine's breast. 'I command it,' Hugo said softly. Alys slid the palm of her hand over Catherine's plump nipple and felt the nipple harden beneath her touch with a delicious responsiveness. Catherine moaned.

'Rub me,' she said.

'You do it,' Hugo demanded. He reached across Catherine and took Alys' other hand and placed it on Catherine's other breast. At Alys' touch Catherine smiled. Her face, warm with pleasure, shadowed in candlelight, was lovely. Alys stroked gently all around Catherine's hot breasts, rubbed the nipples with the flat of her palm, felt a sudden rising desire to press harder, to stroke and pummel Catherine's warm, bulging, newly washed skin, to pinch her, tease her, see her squirm and arouse her desire.

'I have to tell you, my lady, that I have lain with Alys,' Hugo said quietly. Alys gasped and froze, but Catherine, her head arched back, her breasts pushed upwards to Alys' hands, was not distracted from her greedy sensuality.

'I could not resist her,' Hugo said gently. 'She is a most delicate whore.'

Catherine laughed, a breathless laugh, deep in her throat. 'You must take your pleasure where you will, Hugo,' she said. 'You are a man. You are the lord. You must have all that you desire.'

'I am going,' Alys said abruptly. She turned for the door but Hugo was quicker. He blocked her way in a moment and she stood, outraged, her eyes blazing.

Hugo's smile was as feckless and wicked as she had ever seen.

'Turn around, Alys,' he said.

For a moment she hesitated and he took her gently by her shoulders and turned her back to Catherine's sprawled wanton bulk on the bed. Catherine opened her eyes and smiled at Alys; she looked ready to eat her. Alys shuddered – partly from distaste, partly from a rising, unwanted desire. She was trapped by Hugo's lust, in Hugo's fantasy, as she had so often entrapped him. Gently he pushed her back to the bed. 'Touch her, Alys,' he said softly. 'Touch my wife again. You can stroke her – or even pinch her. You can slap her if you wish. I imagine you would like to slap her. She will not mind. She likes it.'

He pushed her gently and Alys leaned forward and slid her hand, still slick with oil, from Catherine's thick throat down to her fat breasts. Catherine groaned softly and reached her arms out for Alys.

Hugo's skilful hands went to the back of Alys' gown and untied the lacings, loosening them swiftly. Alys straightened up to protest, but Catherine, without opening her eyes, still smiling, caught one of her hands and pulled it back on the warm, squashy breast.

'Rub me,' she said. 'Alys, rub me.'

Hugo chuckled, his wicked spoilt-boy chuckle, held Alys more firmly around her waist and pulled the lace from the holes with a swift hiss. The green stomacher and wide sleeves tumbled off. Hugo pushed down the white linen chemise so Alys' breasts and arms were bare. She made a soft, inarticulate protest.

'My gown,' he reminded her. 'The new green gown. Mine to strip from you, as we agreed.'

He untied the strings of the overskirt and dropped the expensive brocade to the floor. He untied the green silk underskirt and it fell in a ring at Alys' feet. Alys, held by Hugo's careless hand around the waist, both hands captured by Catherine, stood leaning over the bed wearing nothing but her fine linen shift.

'On the bed,' Hugo ordered. He pushed her gently, and when she resisted he pushed her harder. 'I mean it, Alys,' he said. There was an unmistakable threat in his low voice. 'You have no choice, Mistress,' he said.

Reluctantly Alys climbed on the bed beside Catherine. Catherine turned her face to her and smiled. 'Pretty Alys,' she said. Her voice was slurred with desire. 'Take her shift off, Hugo,' she said. 'Strip her.'

Hugo pulled Alys' shift up from her hips and over her head in one smooth motion as Catherine reached out for her and pulled her down beside her.

'I may not enter you, my lady,' Hugo said thickly to Catherine. 'It would be dangerous for the baby and bad for your milk. But I can give you some pleasure, I think.'

Catherine laughed, a delighted, indulged laugh. 'You bring me your whore?' she asked. 'Hugo, you are wicked! You bring me your whore to please me with her silver fingers?'

Hugo chuckled. 'I am a little wicked,' he conceded. They sounded as if they were flirting in some elaborate courtly ritual. Alys between them, naked and shivery, shrank back as Catherine's scented damp body pressed forward.

'But she would tempt a saint, wouldn't she, Catherine?' Hugo asked agreeably. 'You can't blame me for falling into temptation with Alys.'

He took a handful of Alys' hair and pulled her head back. He put his mouth over hers and Alys felt his tongue slide shamelessly into her mouth as he kissed her deeply and fully while Catherine watched. Incredulously, through her own rising desire, she heard Catherine's low aroused chuckle.

Hugo released her. 'See how I share my secrets with you, Catherine!' he said. 'You are my lady! This is my whore.'

Catherine took Alys' limp hand and put it to her breast again. 'Touch me again,' she said. 'Like you were doing before.'

‘I won't be commanded as if I were a toy,' Alys said. She tried to speak with her power in her voice, but she sounded soft, petulant. She felt her power draining from her, mauled by the two of them. She pulled back, away from Catherine's grasping hands, but Hugo was up on the bed behind her and pressing her forwards. His arms came round her waist and caressed her breasts. Alys felt the warmth of his familiar hands stroking her, cupping her breasts, gently pulling at her hardening nipples. Catherine's hands were on her belly, spanning and pinching Alys' narrow waist. 'Don't,' Alys said weakly. She heard consent in her own voice. She felt her rising desire to be taken by them both, to have them both use her as they wished. As if they were two rich, indulged children, and she a new toy for them to finger and destroy. As if she were without value, a nothingness, which they might tease, abuse, reject. If the two of them played with her to destruction, tore her to pieces between their greedy mouths and working fingers, it would be just. It would be her deserts.

'Don't,' Alys said softly. Hugo heard her assent and laughed. 'Little whore,' he said tenderly and nudged her forward, his penis pressing hard against her back. 'Alys, I think you long to see how low you can fall.'

Alys leaned forward over Catherine's big belly and nuzzled at the fat breasts and licked, with the tip of her tongue, at Catherine's nipples. The oil was sweet and pungent, it furred Alys' tongue. She felt trapped in a nightmare of heady sickly tastes and new forbidden sensations.

Catherine shuddered with pleasure at the touch of Alys' tongue, and took Alys in her arms. She snatched at Alys' hand and pushed it down between her legs. Alys, flinching with contradictory repulsion and lust, felt Catherine's bush of thick hair and then a deep slippery canal drenched in liquid, feeling her own thighs grow sticky and wet.

Catherine was breathing fast. Her hands pressed Alys' hand against her body more and more urgently. She arched her back and rubbed herself against Alys' hands, groaning as she did. Alys gave a little gasp of distaste and of desire. She was surrounded by Catherine and Hugo. Catherine squirming beneath her, Hugo bearing down on her from behind. The two of them were playing with her like two malicious cats with a mouse.

And at the same time Alys felt a leap of desire that she should be between them, that Catherine's hands should be pawing her, one at her breast, and one, horribly, delightfully, between her legs. That Hugo should be pressing himself at her back – as hard as a spear -probing between her legs, hard and slippery with her wetness, and then she felt Hugo rear up behind her and plunge himself inside her, at the same moment as Catherine snatched Alys' hand, ground her hot wet flesh against it and thrust it deep inside her.

Catherine and Hugo groaned together, repeatedly thrusting at the same time, as practised lovers reaching release together. Alys, hot with desire, suddenly frantic, twisted and turned between them, but Hugo slackened and stilled, grew small and released her.

Catherine rolled away, her breathing deep and easy, her face rosy and relaxed. Hugo dropped face down into the pillow with a deep sigh. Alys lay between the two of them, silently raging and unsatisfied. The small bones of her hand were aching where Catherine had crushed it against her flesh. Inside her body she was hot and sore, between her legs she was drenched and unsatisfied.

She looked from one to the other; they were both smiling, sated. Neither of them looked at her, neither of them cared whether or not she had any pleasure. The question of Alys' irritable, unsated desire was of no importance. Alys' sensation of drowning in corruption was of no interest. Catherine pulled the covers a little closer, her face slack with sleep and satisfaction. She slept. The fire crackled gently, the scent of lemon verbena was very sweet in the room. The three of them – the two naked pregnant women, and the half-dressed young lord – lay still. The lord and his lady slept.

Catherine came down for supper in the great hall, rosy in her pink and cream gown, her face smiling, fat as a pudding, her hair spread out over her shoulders, her appetite sharp. Hugo had her on his arm as they walked into the dining-hall and there was a shout of appreciation and welcome from all the diners. Alys took her old place at the women's table and cast a hard look around at all of them to warn them not to mock her for her return.

'Welcome back,' Eliza said irrepressibly.

Alys met her bright eyes with a cold stare. 'I am happy to dine with you, Eliza, and with you all,' she said levelly. 'But do not forget that I am carrying Hugo's son in my belly – something each one of you would give a year's pay for. Don't forget that when Catherine takes to her bed again I shall be sitting next to the old lord and that I am his favourite. Don't forget that I am Mistress Alys to you and every one of you. My fortunes may rise and fall, but even at their ebb they are higher than you could dream.'

All the women looked at their plates and supped their broth in silence. Alys let the silence go on and on. She watched Hugo. Half a lifetime ago it seemed that she had sat here with Morach beside her, and watched Hugo's back with a desire so strong that she had thought she would die of it. Now she looked at his shoulders and his neck and the set of his head with silent hatred.

'Are you not eating, Mistress Alys?' Ruth asked quietly.

Alys glanced down at her bowl. The broth had grown cold, thick lumps of grease floated in it. Alys took a sip of wine tainted with the metallic taste of the pewter cup. David the steward had seen that her place on the women's table was laid with pewter, like theirs. Glass was only for the top table, and she had lost her place there.

'I am not hungry,' she said briefly. 'I will ask Hugo to send me something to my room later.' She rose from the table and went to the high table, to the old lord.

'I wish to leave the table,' she said softly in his ear. 'I have some pains and I feel sick. I wish to go to my room.'

The look he turned on her was kindly enough, but he smiled as if he could see straight into her heart. 'Don't be envious, vixen,' he said softly. 'You come second to Catherine. We always told you that. Go and sit at your place and drink and eat from pewter. She will keep to her room again some time and you can queen it up here then. But when she chooses to eat with us in the hall where she belongs, you take your place at the women's table – where you belong.'

Alys glanced across at Hugo. He was listening to some jest a man was shouting to him from a table further down the hall. He caught the end of the riddle and threw back his dark head in a shout of laughter.

'No,' the old lord said, following her glance. 'There is no appeal against my decision. I am master here still, Alys. Go and sit where you are bid.'

Alys smiled her sweetest smile. 'Of course, my lord,' she said. 'I did not wish to spoil the good cheer and merry company at the ladies' table with my illness. But if you wish it, of course I will sit with them.'

Lord Hugh glanced back at the table and barked a sharp laugh at the four sour faces. They were straining to hear what Alys and the old lord were whispering about.

'Oh, go your ways,' he said indulgently. ‘I will spare you the merry cheer of that crew. Go to your room now, but another time you must sit with the silly bitches.'

Alys dipped him a curtsey and slipped out through the tapestry-hung door behind them. She caught Eliza's eye as she left and remembered her first dinner in the castle when they had told her that no one could leave before the lord.

'Things are better for me now than they were then,' Alys said to herself grimly. She mounted the stairs to the ladies' gallery, pushed open the door and pulled up a chair before the fire. 'It is better for me now than in Morach's ugly cottage.' She threw another log on the fire and sat watching the sparks fly. 'I have forced them to see me for what I am,' she said defiantly to herself. 'I came here as a nobody and now they call me Mistress Alys and I have twelve gowns of my own. I have as many new gowns as Catherine.'

The quietness of the room gathered around her. ‘I have forced them to see me for what I am,' Alys said again. She was silent for a moment, watching the flames.

'They see me as his whore,' she said softly. 'Today I became Hugo's whore. And everybody knows.'