There was a rumble of assent.

Wulfric looked at Billy Howard and Annet, sitting side by side. In the end, Gwenda thought, people would probably do what Annet and Billy wanted. “I don’t want trouble,” Billy said. “But we should finish what we’ve started, for the sake of all the women in the village.”

Annet did not raise her eyes from the floor, but she nodded assent, and Gwenda realized with dismay that Wulfric had won.

“Well, you got what you wanted,” she said to him as they left the church.

He grunted.

She persisted: “So, I suppose you will continue to risk your life for the honour of Billy Howard’s wife, while refusing to speak to your own wife.”

He said nothing. Sammy sensed the hostility and began to cry.

Gwenda felt desperate. She had moved heaven and earth to get the man she loved, she had married him and had his baby, and now he was treating her like an enemy. Her father had never behaved this way to her mother – not that Joby’s behaviour was a model for anyone. But she had no idea how to deal with him. She had tried using Sammy, holding him in one arm while touching Wulfric with the other hand, in an attempt to win back his affection by associating herself with the baby boy he loved; but he just moved away, rejecting them both. She had even tried sex, pressing her breasts against his back at night, brushing her hand across his belly, touching his penis, but it did not work – as she might have known, remembering how resistant he had been last summer, before Annet married Billy.

Now, in frustration, she cried out: “What is wrong with you? I only tried to save your life!”

“You should not have done it,” he said.

“If I’d let you kill Ralph, you’d have been hanged!”

“You had no right.”

“What does it matter if I had the right or not?”

“That’s your father’s philosophy, isn’t it?”

She was startled. “What do you mean?”

“Your father believes it doesn’t matter whether or not he has the right to do something. If it’s for the best, he does it. Like selling you to feed his family.”

“They sold me to be raped! I tripped you up to save you from the gallows. That’s completely different.”

“As long as you go on telling yourself that, you’ll never understand him or me.”

She realized she was not going to win back his affection by trying to prove him wrong. “Well… I don’t understand, then.”

“You took away my power to make my own decisions. You treated me the way your father treated you, as a thing to be controlled, not as a person. It doesn’t matter whether I was right or wrong. What matters is that it was up to me to decide, not you. But you can’t see that, just as your father can’t see what he took away from you when he sold you.”

She still thought the two things were completely different, but she did not argue the point, because she was beginning to see what had made him angry. He was passionate about his independence – something she could empathize with, for she felt the same way. And she had robbed him of that. She said falteringly: “I… I think I understand.”

“Do you?”

“At any rate, I’ll try not to do anything of that kind again.”

“Good.”

She only half believed she had been wrong, but she was desperate to end the war between them, so she said: “I’m very sorry.”

“All right.”

He wasn’t saying much, but she sensed he might be softening. “You know that I don’t want you to complain to Lord William about Ralph – but, if you’re determined to, I won’t try to stop you.”

“I’m glad.”

“In fact,” she said, “I might be able to help you.”

“Oh?” he said. “How?”

36

The home of Lord William and Lady Philippa, at Casterham, had once been a castle. There was still a round stone keep with battlements, though it was in ruins and used as a cowshed. The wall around the courtyard was intact, but the moat had dried up, and the ground in the slight remaining dip was used to grow vegetables and fruit trees. Where once there had been a drawbridge, a simple ramp now led up to the gatehouse.

Gwenda, carrying Sammy, passed under the arch of the gatehouse with Father Gaspard, Billy Howard, Annet and Wulfric. A young man-at-arms was lolling on a bench, presumably on guard, but he saw the priest’s robe and did not challenge them. The relaxed atmosphere encouraged Gwenda. She was hoping to get a private audience with Lady Philippa.

They entered the house by the main door and found themselves in a traditional great hall, with high windows like those of a church. It seemed to take up about half the total space of the house. The rest, presumably, would be personal chambers, in the modern fashion, which emphasized the privacy of the noble family and played down military defences.

A middle-aged man in a leather tunic was sitting at a table counting notches on a tally stick. He glanced up at them, finished his count, made a note on a slate, then said: “Good day to you, strangers.”

“Good day, Master Bailiff,” said Gaspard, deducing the man’s occupation. “We’ve come to see Lord William.”

“He’s expected back by suppertime, father,” the bailiff said politely. “What’s your business with him, may I ask?”

Gaspard began to explain, and Gwenda slipped back outside.

She went around the house to the domestic end. There was a wooden extension that she guessed was the kitchen. A maid sat on a stool by the kitchen door with a sack of cabbages, washing the mud off in a big bowl of water. The maid was young, and looked fondly at the baby. “How old is he?” she said.

“Four months, nearly five. His name is Samuel. We call him Sammy, or Sam.”

The baby smiled at the girl, and she said: “Ah.”

Gwenda said: “I’m just an ordinary woman, like you, but I need to speak to the Lady Philippa.”

The girl frowned and looked troubled. “I’m only the kitchen maid,” she said.

“But you must see her sometimes. You could speak to her for me.”

She glanced behind her, as if worried about being overheard. “I don’t like to.”

Gwenda realized this might be more difficult than she had anticipated. “Couldn’t you just give her a message for me?” she said.

The maid shook her head.

Then a voice came from inside: “Who wants to send me a message?”

Gwenda tensed, wondering if she was in trouble. She looked towards the kitchen door.

A moment later, Lady Philippa stepped out.

She was not quite beautiful, and certainly not pretty, but she was good-looking. She had a straight nose and a strong jaw, and her green eyes were large and clear. She was not smiling, in fact she wore a slight frown, but nevertheless there was something friendly and understanding about her face.

Gwenda answered her question. “I’m Gwenda from Wigleigh, my lady.”

“Wigleigh.” Philippa’s frown deepened. “And what do you have to say to me?”

“It’s about Lord Ralph.”

“I was afraid it might be. Well, come inside and let’s warm that baby by the kitchen fire.”

Many noble ladies would have refused to speak to someone as lowly as Gwenda, but she had guessed that Philippa had a big heart underneath that rather formidable exterior. She followed Philippa inside. Sammy began to grizzle, and Gwenda gave him the breast.

“You can sit down,” Philippa said.

That was even more unusual. A serf would normally remain standing when talking to a lady. Philippa was being kind because of the baby, Gwenda guessed.

“All right, out with it,” Philippa said. “What has Ralph done?”

“You may remember, lady, a fight at the Fleece Fair in Kingsbridge last year.”

“I certainly do. Ralph groped a peasant girl, and her handsome young fiance broke his nose. The boy shouldn’t have done it, of course, but Ralph is a brute.”

“Indeed he is. Last week he came across the same girl, Annet, in the woods. His squire held her down while Ralph raped her.”