“Thank you for the penny,” Aliena called after her, but Meg had disappeared into the gloom.

Aliena peered apprehensively in the direction Odo had indicated. Holding the candle up high, she went through the archway, and found herself in a tiny square vestibule. The light of the candle showed three heavy doors, each barred on the outside. Odo called out: “Straight in front of you.”

Aliena said: “Lift the bar, Richard.”

Richard took the heavy wooden bar out of its brackets and stood it up against the wall. Aliena pushed the door open and sent up a quick silent prayer.

The cell was dark but for the light of her candle. She hesitated in the doorway, peering into the moving shadows. The place smelled like a privy. A voice said: “Who is it?”

Aliena said: “Father?” She made out a dark figure, sitting on the straw-covered floor.

“Aliena?” There was incredulity in the voice. “Is that Aliena?” It sounded like Father’s voice, but older.

Aliena went closer, holding the candle up. He looked up at her, the candlelight caught his face, and she gasped in horror.

He was hardly recognizable.

He had always been a thin man, but now he looked like a skeleton. He was filthy dirty and dressed in rags. “Aliena!” he said. “It is you!” His face twisted into a smile, and it was like the grin of a skull.

Aliena burst into tears. Nothing could have prepared her for the shock of seeing him so transformed. It was the most dreadful thing imaginable. She knew instantly that he was dying: the vile Odo had told the truth. But he was still alive, still suffering, and painfully pleased to see her. She had been determined to stay calm, but now she lost control completely, and fell to her knees in front of him, weeping with great racking sobs that came from deep inside her.

He leaned forward and put his arms around her, patting her back as if he were comforting a child over a grazed knee or a broken toy. “Don’t cry,” he said gently. “Not when you’ve made your father so happy.”

Aliena felt the candle taken from her hand. Father said: “And is that tall young man my Richard?”

“Yes, Father,” Richard said stiffly.

Aliena put her arms around Father, and felt his bones like sticks in a sack. He was wasting away: there was no flesh beneath his skin. She wanted to say something to him, some words of love or comfort, but she could not speak for sobbing.

“Richard,” he was saying, “you’ve grown! Have you got a beard yet?”

“It’s just started, Father, but it’s very fair.”

Aliena realized that Richard was on the edge of tears and struggling to maintain his composure. He would feel humiliated if he broke down in front of Father, and Father would probably tell him to snap out of it and be a man, which would make it worse. Worrying about Richard, she stopped crying. With an effort she pulled herself together. She hugged Father’s appallingly thin body once more; then she withdrew from his embrace, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose on her sleeve.

“Are you both all right?” Father said. His voice was slower than it used to be, and it quavered occasionally. “How have you managed? Where have you been living? They wouldn’t tell me anything about you-it was the worst torture they could have devised. But you seem fine-fit and healthy! This is wonderful!”

Mention of torture made Aliena wonder whether he had suffered physical torments, but she did not ask him: she was afraid of what he might tell her. Instead she answered his question with a lie. “We’re fine, Father.” She knew that the truth would be devastating to him. It would destroy this moment of happiness and fill the last days of his life with an agony of self-reproach. “We’ve been living at the castle and Matthew has been taking care of us.”

“But you can’t live there anymore,” he said. “The king has made that fat oaf Percy Hamleigh the earl now-he’ll have the castle.”

So he knew about that. “It’s all right,” she said. “We’ve moved out.”

He touched her dress, the old linen shift that the verderer’s wife had given her. “What’s this?” he said sharply. “Have you sold your clothes?”

He was still perceptive, Aliena noted. It would not be easy to deceive him. She decided to tell him part of the truth. “We left the castle in a hurry, and we haven’t any clothes.”

“Where’s Matthew now? Why isn’t he with you?”

She had been afraid of this question. She hesitated.

It was only a momentary pause, but he noticed it. “Come! Don’t try to hide anything from me!” he said with something of his old authority. “Where’s Matthew?”

“He was killed by the Hamleighs,” she said. “But they did us no harm.” She held her breath. Would he believe her?

“Poor Matthew,” he said sorrowfully. “He was never a fighting man. I hope he went straight to heaven.”

He had accepted her story. She was relieved. She moved the conversation off this dangerous ground. “We decided to come to Winchester to ask the king to make some provision for us, but he-”

“No use,” Father interrupted briskly, before she could explain why they had failed to see the king. “He wouldn’t do anything for you.”

Aliena was hurt by his dismissive tone. She had done her best, against the odds, and she wanted him to say Well done, not That was a waste of time. He had always been quick to correct and slow to praise. I ought to be used to it, she thought. Submissively she said: “What should we do now, Father?”

He shifted his sitting position, and there was a clanking noise. Aliena realized with a shock that he was in chains. He said: “I had one chance to hide some money away. It wasn’t much of a chance, but I had to take it. I had fifty bezants in a belt under my shirt. I gave the belt to a priest.”

“Fifty!” Aliena was surprised. A bezant was a gold coin. They were not minted in England, but came from Byzantium. She had never seen more than one at a time. A bezant was worth twenty-four silver pennies. Fifty were worth… she could not figure it out.

“Which priest?” said Richard practically.

“Father Ralph, of the church of St. Michael near the North Gate.”

“Is he a good man?” Aliena asked.

“I hope so. I really don’t know. On the day the Hamleighs brought me to Winchester, before they locked me up in here, I found myself alone with him, just for a few moments, and I knew it would be my only chance. I gave him the belt, and begged him to keep it for you. Fifty bezants is worth five pounds of silver.”

Five pounds. As this news sank in Aliena realized that the money would transform their existence. They would not be destitute; they would no longer have to live from hand to mouth. They could buy bread, and a pair of boots to replace those painful clogs, and even a couple of cheap ponies if they needed to travel. It did not solve all their problems, but it took away that frightening feeling of living constantly on the edge of a life-or-death crisis. She would not have to be thinking all the time of how they were going to survive. Instead she could turn her attention to something constructive-like getting Father out of this awful place. She said: “When we’ve got the money, what shall we do? We must get you freed.”

“I’m not coming out,” he said harshly. “Forget about that. If I weren’t dying already they’d have hanged me.”

Aliena gasped. How could he talk that way?

“Why are you shocked?” he said. “The king has to get rid of me, but this way I won’t be on his conscience.”

Richard said: “Father, this place is not well guarded while the king is away. With a few men I believe I could break you out.”

Aliena knew that was not going to happen. Richard did not have the ability or the experience to organize a rescue, and he was too young to persuade men to follow him. She was afraid Father would wound Richard by pouring scorn on the proposal, but all he said was: “Don’t even think about it. If you break in here I’ll refuse to go out with you.”