The Wise Woman

Twenty-nine

The morning was clear and sun-filled, just as the old lord had predicted. The storm had drenched the mist and blown away the clouds. Alys, waking from a second sleep, went over to the arrow-slit and stared out towards the moor where the white ribbon of the road snaked westward.

For long moments she stood staring towards the moor as if she thought that she might see something coming along the road. Then she shrugged and turned away.

'I fear nothing,' she said under her breath. 'Nothing. I have not come this far to be fearful of dreams. I am not a fool like Catherine. I shall fear nothing.'

Mary tapped at the door and came in, laden with a platter of bread and meat, and a pitcher of ale. Alys went back to bed and ate heartily, sitting up in bed, and reviewing one gown after another as Mary took them from the chest and spread them out before her.

'The new blue gown,' she said at last. 'And I'll wear my hair loose.'

Mary laid out the dress, poured hot water from a ewer to a basin, and helped Alys lace tight into the gown. It had been remade from some blue silk in Meg's box, sewn by the castle sempstresses in the style favoured by the new Queen Jane. Alys smiled. The dress might have come into fashion precisely to show off her growing belly. The stomacher was cut short, it pressed across the breasts and laced at the back like a bodice. In the front the fullness of the gown was gathered across the belly.

Even virgins wearing such a fashion would look pregnant; Alys, with the curve of her belly emphasized by the folds of silk, looked like a queen of fertility. She opened the door, bid 'good day' to the ladies and strolled across the gallery to visit Catherine.

Catherine was still in bed. Her breakfast tray was pushed aside, she was drinking from a mug of ale. She put it down when Alys came in the door and held out her arms to her. Alys bent over the bed and allowed Catherine to hold her and nuzzle her damp face into Alys' neck.

'Alys,' Catherine said miserably. 'You must help me.' Alys pulled up a chair to the bed without invitation or permission and sat down. 'In what way, Catherine?' she asked pleasantly. 'You know I would do anything in my power for you.'

Catherine snivelled weakly and hunted in the pillows for her handkerchief. She rubbed her eyes and her moist nose. 'I cannot stop weeping,' she said thickly. 'All day and even all night. Alys, I weep even in my dreams.'

Alys examined her clasped hands against the blue of her robe. They were as smooth and as white as a lady's. No one would look at them now and think Alys had ever plied anything heavier than a needle. 'Why do you weep?' Alys asked, without much interest.

Catherine pressed the backs of her hands against her pink cheeks to cool them. 'Hugo will not see me,' she said flatly. 'He will not see me and he refuses to touch me because I have not been churched. But Father Stephen is not here so I cannot be churched. Hugo knows that. He is using it as an excuse to snub me. I know it. I know it.' She broke off, her voice had risen high and angry. She took a deep breath. 'I do not even know if Father Stephen believes in churching,' she said resentfully. 'If he calls it superstition and refuses to do it, and Hugo still will not touch me until it is done, then what can I do? It is a trick. Hugo is punishing me for losing his child. But it is not my fault! I am not to blame!' Her voice had grown high and shrill again. She took a quivering breath, trying to calm herself. Alys barely looked at her.

'The old lord will not see me,' she said. 'He says he will see me when I am well again and fit to be seated at table; but I know he is angry with me.' She hesitated, her voice very low. 'I suspect him,' she said softly. 'I suspect him of trying to have me put aside.' Alys glanced up at her but said nothing. 'You must know,' Catherine said with sudden energy. 'You write his letters for him, he tells you his business. Is he writing to have me set aside and the marriage annulled?' 'Yes,' Alys said precisely. 'If his friends at court will support his application.'

The flushed colour went from Catherine's face, leaving her waxy white. 'On what grounds?' she whispered. 'Too close kinship,' Alys replied. 'There was a dispensation…' Catherine began. 'Bought from the Pope,' Alys answered. 'The King decides these matters now. Not the Pope.'

Catherine was silent, staring at Alys. 'What does Hugo say?' she asked. 'Does he love me still? Does he want to keep me? Will he stand against his father?'

'Hugo doesn't know,' Alys answered. 'But I doubt he would go against his father's will in this matter.'

'No,' Catherine said, shaking her head. 'He would not. He married me because his father ordered it, and he lay with me because they needed an heir. Now I cannot give an heir I am of no use to anybody. So they will throw me away.'

Alys looked at her fingernails. They were pale pink and regular, with clear white tips and little half-moons of whiteness at the base. Alys inspected them approvingly.

'I am lost,' Catherine said hollowly. Alys waited, indifferent to Catherine's pain. 'What will they do with me?' Catherine asked. 'You could marry again,' Alys suggested. A little of the colour came back into Catherine's cheeks. 'After Hugo?' she demanded.

Alys nodded, conceding the point. 'Or you could have a little house of your own, with your own servants on your dowry land. Perhaps a little manor, a farmhouse.'

Catherine's plump face trembled with her grief. 'I have been the lady of the castle,' she said. 'The wife of Lord Hugo. Do they expect me to live in a cottage and keep ducks?' Alys smiled. 'Could you fight them?' 'I'd lose,' Catherine replied promptly. 'Catherine of Aragon could not sway them, a princess in her own right. The Boleyn woman's own uncle found her guilty and sent her to be killed. It's not likely that they would listen to me! The King's council do not like to hear about male impotence, male infertility. It is easier for them to blame a wife.'

Alys glanced behind her to see that the door was safely shut. 'That's treason,' she said flatly.

Catherine looked defiantly at her. 'I don't care,' she said. 'They have used me like a toy and now they will throw me on the midden. Hanging as a traitor could not hurt me worse than this betrayal.'

There was silence for a few moments. Alys saw that Catherine's constant tears had dried on her cheeks.

Underneath the rosy plumpness of Catherine's face the old hard lines were beginning to show again.

'Who will they marry him to?' Catherine asked. 'Have they written to anyone?'

Alys kept her voice level, her joy and confidence concealed. 'Lord Hugh has made no approaches,' she said. She waited for Catherine to guess that Alys would be the new lady, waited for her explosion of rage, of jealousy which would carry her out of the castle in a fit of pique and then beach her outside, never to return, in a little manor farm, visited only now and then by David with unwanted goods from the castle. Impoverished. Alone.

'I suppose they will wait until the annulment has gone through,' Catherine said. Alys smiled inwardly at Catherine's stupidity. 'Then they will look about them for a girl, a young girl, fertile and strong and wealthy. That's who they will wait for. Some noble little thing who will fall passionately in love with Hugo as I did. And then wear away her life with longing and jealousy- as I have done. And then wait and wait for a child from him. For it is he who has no seed. It is he who is corrupt.'

Alys kept her face down so Catherine could not see her smile. There was no young noble bride in the offing. There was no list of candidates. Alys was as close to Lord Hugh as anyone in the castle. If there had been marriage plans for Hugo then Alys would have known- even before Hugo himself. The annulment was planned. A second marriage would be left to Hugo's desires, to Lord Hugh's preference. Alys knew that when Catherine left the castle the new lady would be Alys.

Catherine threw back the covers of the bed and went to the window. She drew back the curtains and flung open the shutters. The morning sunlight poured into the room, the dust from the strewing herbs dancing in the sunbeams.

'Look at him,' she said with deep resentment. 'Blithe as ever.'

Alys went to her side. In the courtyard below, Hugo was detaining Alys' new serving-girl, Mary, with one casual hand on her arm.

'Who is she?' Catherine said in a half-whisper. 'A new girl, my maidservant. David found her in Castleton to wait on me,' Alys said. She could feel herself getting breathless; deep in her belly she felt her pulse speeding with jealousy.

Hugo's laugh echoed around the courtyard, they could see Mary toss back her hair and smile at him.

From the round tower behind them, the prison tower, a soldier came out of the little doorway and strolled down the external stone stairs, calling some jest to Hugo. The watching women could see Mary shrug her shoulders and laugh.

'So now you know,' Catherine said triumphantly. 'Now you know how I felt when they brought you in, straight off the moor, and I saw Hugo turn and watch you every time you crossed a room. They called you one of my ladies but I knew you were here for their delight – Hugo's and the old lord's. It killed me inside to see him burning for you. And now you can watch your maid, a silly ignorant girl, and see Hugo burning for her. And every time she walks across the room you will see him turn his head away from you and watch her.'

Alys leaned against the window-sill and looked down, the stone wall cold and hard against her. Hugo had his arm around Mary's waist, he was whispering in her ear. Mary had leaned back along his arm, her neck seductively stretched, the tops of her breasts showing over her bodice. As Hugo's wife and Hugo's mistress silently watched, Hugo dropped his dark head and kissed her neck and her breasts. They heard Mary's ripple of laughter and then she pushed him away. She ran a few steps from him, as if she were unwilling, and then she glanced at him over her shoulder, inviting the chase. When he did not follow, she set her basket on her jutting hip and swayed across the courtyard. Hugo stood and lazily watched her walk away until she was out of sight.

'How long do you think she will hold out against him?' Catherine asked. 'A month? A week? Until tonight?'

She gave a cracked, bitter laugh and leaned back against the bedpost. 'It was always better, I found, if they gave in swiftly. He gets bored then. The worst agony for me was when he was hot for you. You delayed so long. It was such pain for me, waiting and waiting for him to have his fill of you and come back to me.' Alys shook her head. She could not match the torment and storm-lit madness of last night with Hugo's prosaic flirtation in the sunny courtyard. 'Only last night we were lovers,' she said unguardedly.

'How could he want a slut like her today? We were together in madness last night. How could he wake and want her?'

'He used to go from my bed to yours without even pausing,' Catherine replied. 'Hugo's infidelities happen at speed. You, of all people, should know that.' Alys nodded. 'But last night…' she said. She broke off. Catherine was right. Of all women she should have known of the fickleness of men's desire. From her earliest childhood she had heard Morach warning girls wanting love potions that you can arouse lust but not liking. You can hex someone to obsession but not to affection.

'Do you love him?' Catherine asked curiously. 'No,' Alys replied absently. 'I did, at first. I was sick with love for him, I gambled everything – my soul itself – to make him love me. But since then…' She sighed. 'I sometimes desire him,' she said. 'And I need him now to keep my place here. I like to be the lady here, I like to be first with him and with his father. But I cannot say I love him tenderly. I have only loved one person tenderly.'

She thought of the old woman in the cottage on the moors coming out into the innocent sunshine at the sound of the horses, and then the soldiers taking her roughly and bundling her on a horse behind some lad who would crack jokes and call her 'Grandma' and then slung her down like a sack in Appleby market. 'And I think I may have failed in my love for her,' Alys said evasively.

'Morach?' Catherine guessed.

Alys thought of the old corpse rolling round and round in the roiling waters of the cave. 'Not Morach,' she said. 'But it is true that I failed her too.'

Catherine slid an arm around Alys' waist. 'When I go will you come with me? To the manor farmhouse? We could live together, Alys, you could practise your healing. We would be comfortable.'

She hesitated, glancing sideways at Alys. 'I would care for you. I would protect you. I would be like a husband to you. I desire you, Alys. I wanted you the night that Hugo brought you to me, and I had desired you before. It was my idea that he should have us both. He tempted me into telling my desires once, and I told him that I longed for you.

'Even when you were my rival I hated you and wanted you, all at once. I used to think of Hugo lying with you and I longed for you both, I envied you both. You – because you had Hugo at your beck. And he -because he could lie on you and master you. I longed to see you together, your body and his. But now, since I lost the baby, I hate Hugo. I hate the thought of him and his foul seed. But I still want you. I dream of you.'

Alys stepped out of Catherine's cuddling arm, her mind whirling with possibilities. 'I don't know,' she said, playing for time. 'I never thought.'

Catherine's face was eager. Alys felt her power flowing through her as she saw Catherine's need for her, Catherine's desire. Alys laughed softly, seductively. 'I never knew you desired me, Catherine,' she said. 'I never knew.'

Catherine reached out for Alys once more, pulled at her waist. 'I would keep you safe,' she said urgently. 'Here in the castle, if Hugo tires of you, you are lost. When the old lord dies they will blame you for his death, perhaps charge you with witchcraft. Have you thought of that? But with my money on my land I can keep you safe.'

'I am safe here,' Alys objected. 'Hugo may flirt with a serving-wench but he desires no one but me. I will have a place here long after Mary is out on the streets of Castleton plying her trade as a whore. Hugo will never tire of me.'

Catherine nodded. 'Not now,' she said. 'But later. When the new wife comes in, she may demand that you are sent away. If she is young, noble and beautiful, Hugo will do everything he can to please her. She will snub you and insult you. She will bring her own women and you will have nothing to do in the gallery. They will tease you and abuse you. And when Hugo comes to sit with them they will laugh and say you are awkward and foolish and out of fashion. Your gowns will be wrong, Alys, and they will laugh at your speech and even at your healing. They will mortify you and humble you and then laugh at your pain. I can save you from that, from humiliation when the new wife comes in. And I would like to live in a manor-house with you. Far from Hugo, far from his father. Just you and me with a little farm, Alys!'

Alys felt her skills slick and warm at her fingertips. She felt her power around her like a puppet-master's cloak when he spreads it wide as a backcloth and sets his little dolls dancing. She slid her arm around Catherine's broad waist and felt the big woman yearn towards her. 'If I agree to come to you when Hugo's new wife arrives, will you go peaceably now?' she asked. 'The old lord has said he will be generous with money if you accept the end of the marriage graciously. You could get all the money we need by obliging him.'

Catherine stiffened. 'Make it easy for them!' she exclaimed.

'Make it easy for us,' Alys corrected her. 'Take their money, and then, when you are safe in your own little manor – take me too!'

Catherine drew Alys to her, drenched her neck in kisses, moved her lips up across Alys' face towards her mouth. 'Then I can have you, like Hugo used to have you,' she said. 'I used to dream of what he did with you, I used to burn up with jealousy and desire dreaming of him with you. Now I cannot have him and he hates me, and he has made me foul to myself. But at least I can steal his whore from him. At least I can take you,'

Alys forced herself to stand still, her hands on Catherine's puffy hips, while Catherine's grip tightened around her waist and her other hand stroked the top of Alys' breasts.

'Do you want me for desire of me, or revenge on Hugo?' Alys asked curiously.

'Both,' Catherine said honestly. 'I will humble him as he has humbled me. I lost my child but he will lose his whore. I shall steal you away from him as if you were his best possession. I shall take you as I would poach his mare. I shall make you mine and every time I lie on you I shall have all my pleasure and his as well.' She turned towards the rumpled bed, her hand insistently pulling Alys. The sheets were stained with wax and smelled sour. Alys froze, hiding her disgust. 'Not now,' she said quickly. 'Tonight, Catherine. If I can get away from Hugo I shall come to you tonight.'

Catherine paused and beamed. ' We deceive him! she said, laughing with delight. 'Just when he thinks he has beaten me to the ground and has you as his whore. We steal away together and laugh at his pride. And we will find pleasure that Hugo in his cruelty has never dreamed of.'

'Yes,' Alys said. ‘I will come tonight if I can sneak away from him. And I will come to your manor as soon as you are settled.' She kept her eyes down to hide the flare of triumph. 'I promise.'

'Do you swear on Our Lady?' Catherine asked urgently.

Alys took the oath as lightly as a butterfly sipping nectar. 'I swear.' Catherine reached out both arms. 'I agree,' she said.

'I agree, Alys. Now let me hold you again.' Her grip tightened. 'Let me hold you,' she said.

Alys stood still in Catherine's embrace for a long tedious moment; her face, hidden from Catherine, was radiant. Then she gently stepped back.

'You should rest,' she said. 'Go back to bed and eat a good dinner. I have to go and write letters for Lord Hugh. The King's messenger came yesterday, they will need replies today.'

Catherine reluctantly released her. 'Come to me when you are free this afternoon,' she commanded. 'And we will talk about the manor-house. I will tell David to fetch me the books of accounts and we can choose our home together.'

Alys nodded. 'If I can come I will,' she temporized. 'You go to bed now.'

'I love you, Alys,' Catherine said. She looked like a little girl, climbing into the high bed. 'I know you don't love me. But when you are hurt by Hugo and banished from here, I think you will turn to me. Do you think you could love me?'

Alys shaped her lips into a smile. 'I love you already,' she said. 'And I look forward to the day when we are in our manor-house together.'

Catherine held out her arms. 'Hold me again,' she said.

Alys stepped forward, put her arms around Catherine and let the woman rest her head on Alys' unwelcoming shoulder. Alys drew back and pulled up the covers, tucking Catherine into bed.

'I will tell the girl to change your bedding,' Alys said. Catherine beamed at her. 'How you care for me, Alys!' she said gratefully. 'How gentle and loving we will be together when we are far from here.'

Alys glanced out of the arrow-slits in the tower on her way to Lord Hugh's chamber. The high hills of the moor glowed like purple mist in the bright sunshine. The air was clear and clean as it blew gently through each arrow-slit, so Alys, hastening up the spiral stairs, went from sharp moorland air to stale castle smells as the sunlight fell briefly on her face and then left her in darkness. The white road was empty of travellers. She paused and looked carefully. There was nothing stirring the dust. Nothing.

She breathed slowly at the final window before she went in to the old lord.

He was wearing a light summer robe and sitting in his chair before a small fire. The room was crowded. Hugo was there and as Alys opened the door he laughed at some jest and she saw his dark head thrown back and his face merry. When he saw her he gave her a swift wink and came forward to draw her into the room. As his fingertips touched hers they both felt a tingle of last night's desire. 'Give you good day, my Alys!' Hugo said warmly.

Behind Hugo was the priest Father Stephen, still in his travelling cloak, thinner and more intense than before. David stood beside him, holding rolls of manuscript letters.

'Ah, Alys,' Lord Hugh said genially. 'Come in, come in. Here is our own good Stephen with news of his preferment. He has been made archdeacon! You must congratulate him.'

'Indeed I do,' Alys said prettily. She put her hand to Stephen. ‘I can think of no better man for the task,' she said.

Stephen bowed slightly over her hand. His eyes flickered from her face to her belly. He had heard gossip that Alys was carrying Hugo's child. Now he saw that it was true.

'I have much work to do,' the old lord said. 'Stephen, you will take your old rooms? And talk with me this afternoon after dinner?'

'Certainly, my lord,' Stephen said. 'Come riding with me now,' Hugo said. 'We can take the hounds and go up over the moor, get some meat.'

Stephen grinned. 'Still hunting Hugo?' he said. 'Always some prey or another.'

It was a private joke. Both men grinned like schoolboys. 'No preaching now,' Hugo said. 'Not on your first day back with us!'

Stephen laughed and nodded. They swirled from the room in a flurry of coloured capes and David went quietly after them, shutting the door.

Alys settled herself at the table in the window, smoothed her blue gown over her knees, turned her head and smiled.

'You're looking very contented,' the old lord said approvingly.

‘I have been talking with Catherine,' Alys said. 'I think I have done you a service which will please you.' He cocked an eyebrow at her and waited. 'If you will settle a decent-sized manor farm on her, and give her a pension, then I can persuade her to let the annulment go through without protest,' Alys said calmly. 'She is ready to leave at once.'

'Christ save us!' the old lord exclaimed. He hauled himself up on his cane and walked around his chair. 'Why?' he asked. 'Why should she surrender Hugo after clinging to him for all these years?'

'She feels unclean,' Alys said. 'She felt the miscarriage very deeply, she has wept without ceasing until today.

She feels your anger and Hugo's. She wants to please you and she wants to get away. She knows she is barren and she will have to go.'

The old lord nodded. 'But I always thought her so lustful,' he said. 'I thought we would have to lever Hugo out of her arms.'

Alys looked down and smiled complacently. 'She is a woman of unnatural desires,' Alys said simply. 'She now desires me.'

The old lord gave a crack of laughter. 'God help us!' he said. 'Hugo will be mortified! She's had his cock between her legs and she prefers the peck of a hen! Wait till I tell him! He will die of shame! Catherine will let the marriage go if she can have his whore!'

He sobered in a few minutes. 'And what of you?' he asked. 'Playing both sides against the middle, as usual, I suppose?'

Alys looked up at him. 'My lord?' she asked innocently.

'What light oaths have you pledged?' the old lord demanded. 'Come now, girl, I need to know the terms, all the terms that Catherine is setting.'

‘I have promised to live with her should I ever leave here,' Alys said.

The old lord nodded. 'And she was satisfied with that? Sounds very thin to me.'

'She thinks Hugo will take another wife from far away,' Alys said. 'She does not know that I carry Hugo's child in my belly. She is a fool. Her own worries and her own fears blind her. Not even her ladies have dared to tell her that I carry Hugo's child. She is so selfish, so drowned in her own needs, that she does not even see me. She understands nothing. She thinks I am a passing fancy, she does not see clearly enough to see me as Hugo's lady.'

The old lord had turned away, Alys could not see his face. But the stillness of his back warned her.

'You thought that you would be the new wife?' he asked.

Alys found that her breath was coming fast. The sense of fear and anger in her belly which she had felt while watching Hugo flirting in the courtyard was flooding back. She felt her face grow cold and then flushed.

'Yes,' she said bravely. 'I may not be noble and I bring no dowry. But I am the only woman ever to conceive and to carry his child. When my son is born he will be the only heir you have. You know as well as I that Catherine is not infertile – you have had physician after physician to look at her. You know it is Hugo's seed which is weak. If you bring another wife you will only have another barren marriage. It is only I who can conceive with Hugo. Only I who can carry his child full term. When I give birth to a son in the springtime you do not dare not to have us wed by then, and the child legitimate!'

The old lord, his back still turned, threw back his head and roared with cruel, mirthless laughter. Alys smiled nervously, hoping to share his humour.

'I dare?' he asked, turning around to face her. 'You tell me: I do not dare? Oh, my pretty slut, I dare greater things than that!' He stepped across the chamber and thrust his bony hands in front of her face, counting off points on his fingers. 'One: Hugo is not to marry a base woman from God knows where, of God knows what family or parents. Two: I don't take gambles on appearances.' He patted her lightly in the belly with the back of his hand. 'You could have a cripple in there, like Catherine had. You could have a girl.' He spoke as if cripple and girl were equally abhorrent. 'You could have a dead baby or an idiot boy.'

Instinctively Alys put her hands over her belly as if to block out the words. He pushed her hands away. 'Or wind. You could fail to go full term,' he said cruelly. 'You could miscarry like Catherine. You have six months to get through yet, my little whore, it's not likely I'll buy without seeing what I'm getting, is it?'

Mutely Alys stared up at him, her hands in her lap, palms uppermost. 'And thirdly,' he said loudly. 'If it is a son, and hale and hearty, Hugo does not marry you, you little fool. We make the son legitimate! I adopt him as my heir. We want the child, we don't want you! We never wanted you except for clerking and Hugo's pleasure!' Alys was white-faced, her hands were shaking. 'What made you think you could snare me, you little slut? Have you forgotten who I am? You seem to have forgotten your own base blood as soon as you had colours on your back. But me? Have you forgotten who I am? I am the lord of all the land around me for hundreds of miles! My family was planted here by William the Norman King himself, and I have fought and schemed for every acre under my foot. You might forget yourself – God knows you're not memorable! But me? Have you forgotten my family? Have you forgotten my power? Have you forgotten my pride? Have you forgotten who I am?'

Alys rose unsteadily to her feet. 'I am unwell,' she said. She could feel her face trembling. It was hard to form the words. 'I will leave you, my lord,' she said.

'Sit down, sit down,' Lord Hugh said impatiently, his anger blown away in a moment. He thrust her into the chair and stamped over to the table and poured her a glass of wine. Alys took it and sipped. He watched the colour creep back into her cheeks.

'I warned you,' he said gently. 'I warned you not to try to overleap the boundaries, God's own boundaries, between the noble and the rest.'

The wine was steadying Alys. 'Hugo loves me,' she insisted softly.

The old lord shook his head. 'Alys, don't talk like a fool!' he begged. 'You please Hugo. You are a pretty woman, desirable and hot. Any man would want you. If I were not frail and old, I'd have you myself. But don't think these things are decided on whim, on pleasure in a face, or a night's lust. Not even the King himself consults his appetites in this. It's a political decision, always political. Hunting for heirs, hunting for new alliances. Making power, consolidating power. Women are just pawns in this game. Hugo knows as well as I that the next marriage has to be done well, to our advantage. We need a connection with a rising family of the southeast – someone close to the King. Hugo is right – the King is more and more the source of power, of wealth. We need a family high in favour at court.'

Alys put down the glass. 'And do you have one in mind?' she asked bitterly.

'I have three!' the old lord said triumphantly. 'The de Bercy family, they have a wench of twelve they would let us have, the Beause family – they have a girl too young, only nine – but if she is big and forward for her age she might do. And the Mumsett family – they have a girl on their hands whose marriage contract has collapsed. She's twenty. The right age for Hugo. I need to know why her engagement failed, but she might do.'

The wine was spreading through Alys' body like despair. 'I did not know,' she said dully. 'You never spoke of these to me. You never wrote to them. You never received letters from them. I did not know. How have you made these arrangements? I never wrote for you.'

Lord Hugh chuckled. 'Did you think you saw all my letters?' he asked. 'Did you not think that David writes for me, in Latin, aye, in English and Italian, or French too? Did you not think that Hugo writes for me sometimes? Did you not think that when it is deep, deep secret then I write for myself and send it out by a bird, releasing the bird with my own hands so that no one knows but me and a clever, secretive bird?'

Alys shook her head. 'I thought you trusted me alone,' she said. 'I thought I was close to your heart.'

The old lord looked at her with compassion. 'And they call you a wise woman!' he said with gentle mockery. 'You are a fool, Alys.'

She bowed her head.

'What will become of me?' she asked.

'I'll keep you as my clerk,' the old lord offered. 'There will always be a place for you in my hall. You will nurse your child for the first two years. I will not take him away from you before then. When he has tried his first steps I shall take him for my own and you can please yourself.'

‘I can stay here?' Alys asked.

'As his nurse, if you watch your tongue. As long as Hugo's new wife does not object. She will have the rearing of your son. He will be brought up as her child.'

'She gets Hugo and the castle and my son,' Alys said numbly. 'This girl you do not even know. She gets Hugo and the castle and my son and I get nothing.'

Lord Hugh nodded. ‘I could send you to France to a nunnery when the baby is taken from you,' he offered. 'I'll give you a dowry and the name of a dead man. You could go back to the nunnery as a widow. I will do that for you.'

'I have lost my faith,' Alys said with weary dignity. 'Step by step in this castle I have fallen into sin and lost what little faith I ever had. The life I have led here would have robbed the faith of a saint.'

The old lord laughed shortly. 'Forgive me,' he said. ‘I am just a layman, I cannot dispute these things. But surely the life you lived here would have proved a saint. This should have been a good test for a little fledgling saint.' Alys bowed her head under his mockery. 'Well then, you have your final haven,' he said, a ripple of laughter in the back of his voice. Alys looked at him dumbly.

'Catherine and the manor-house!' he said, his laughter spilling out. 'And the rest of your nights with Catherine's fat body bouncing up and down on you and poking in her fingers where you want a cock!'

He exploded into laughter, unstoppable, genuine guffaws, ignoring Alys sitting frozen at the table. Then he broke off and mopped his eyes. 'What a haven, my little one!' he said. 'But you could do worse. You were born for a meaner estate than that, after all. It's a triumph for you, in its way. I'll settle some land on you as I promised, and Catherine shall have a fine enough manor. It is better than nothing, Alys; and you were born to nothing.'

Alys sat in silence, her eyes on the table, her cold hands clasped across her belly.

'Now to work,' Lord Hugh said briskly. 'We're holding a sheriff's court this afternoon in the great hall. I want to see the cases which are coming up before me. And these letters have come from the King's council. An armful of new instructions – pursuit of heretics, witchcraft, papists. Treatment of paupers, upkeep of roads, bridges. Numbers of big horses each tenant must keep, numbers of sheep on lands. Training of young men as archers, banning of the crossbow. Control of enclosures, Lord knows what else.' He dumped an armful of papers before Alys on the table. 'Sort them into two piles,' he said. 'The ones that require an answer at once, that we have to deal with today. And those that can wait. I'll read the cases which will come before me this afternoon.'

Alys bent her head over the papers, smoothed out their creases, stacked them on one pile or another. She was not plotting, nor scheming how to turn the plans for the marriage to her advantage. She felt as if she had lost her ability to turn anything to advantage. She was up against the power and authority of men. There was no chance of anything but defeat.