'I wish I had been here too, Catrin said with a tired smile. She shed her cloak to reveal the top gown of blue wool with its lavish gold embroidery.

Edon's eyes grew huge. 'Have you been stealing from the Empress's wardrobe? she gasped.

Catrin sipped the wine and laughed bitterly. 'My husband is a man generous beyond all belief, she said, and flicked back the hem of the first gown to show Edon the fir-green of the second dress. 'I left three others behind. By now they will be gracing the forms of Flemish whores in return for favours.

'Your husband… Edon said hesitantly. 'Then it is true.

'I don't know. What have you heard? A defensive note entered Catrin's voice.

'That he was not dead, that you had found him again. Geoffrey said that he was a noble man. He treated the prisoners honourably and they liked him. Geoffrey was sorry for Oliver and pleased for you. She swept to her feet and grabbed her eldest son. 'No, sweetheart, not in his eye, there's a good boy.

'Louis can make anyone like him if he tries, Catrin said dully. 'He swore to me that he had changed but he hadn't, and I was still too blind to see through his charm. He demanded all my attention like a greedy child, but once he had it, he lost interest. He wanted a son and I disappointed him with a daughter, for which he has not forgiven me — not that I care for such things. She shook her head. 'It was the same with Wickham. First the passion and desire, then the desertion.

'He deserted you? Edon wrestled with her struggling son and looked perplexed.

Catrin shrugged. 'Yes, he did, but this time I did not spend a year in grief before I took up the threads of my life. Briefly, and against the background of a thwarted, screaming two-year-old, she told Edon about the siege and how she came to be at Bristol. 'So, she defended herself with a vulnerable half-smile, 'I have come to find Oliver and beg his forgiveness on bended knees.

The youngest maid had finished making up the pallet and offered to show Edon's son the caged finches in the adjoining chamber. As she led him away and peace was restored, Edon readjusted her skewed wimple. 'He doesn't take after me, she said with firm denial, and then she sighed. 'It nearly broke Oliver when he lost you. It was all my Geoffrey could do to prevent him from drinking himself stupid every night or seeking his own death in battle.

Her words deepened Catrin's feeling of guilt and renewed her apprehension. Perhaps Oliver would not forgive her, or even want to see her. 'I had to choose, she said. 'And I would not wish that kind of choosing on any woman. She bit her lip. 'In the event, I made the wrong decision.

There was a brief silence. Catrin glanced at Edon and said, 'Do you think it too late to make amends?

Edon wrinkled her nose and looked perplexed. 'I do not know. Oliver has not taken up with any other women, but he never speaks of you. Geoffrey says that in the summer Oliver received a message to say that you were very happy with your husband and that you were with child. I think until then he had started to recover, but that news disturbed him greatly.

Catrin whitened. 'I knew nothing of it, she said, 'but I would not put it past my husband's malice.

'Why choose such a man above Oliver? Edon asked in total bewilderment. 'Why throw away gold for dross?

'Sometimes your eyes are too dazzled by old shine to know the difference. Catrin shook her head and wiped at a tear. 'I thought that Louis had the right. Now I know that he had no right at all. She gazed pensively at Edon. 'I looked for Oliver in the hall at dinner but I did not see him. Is he here?

Edon wrinkled her brow in thought. 'No, she said at length. 'I think not. But we do not see so much of Oliver these days since he has been seconded to Prince Henry's household.

'Prince Henry?

'If you were in the hall at dinner you would have seen him at the high table. The boy with red hair and a severe dose of the fidgets.

'Vaguely, Catrin said. 'We had heard that he was in England, but I never put the two together.

'Well, he's adopted Oliver as his "pet Saxon", Edon said. 'When he returns to his father in Anjou, Oliver will be going with him as part of his retinue.

Catrin absorbed this information with surprise and a frisson of dismay. She mentally scolded herself for the latter. Time and people did not stand still. It was selfish to expect Oliver to remain in the same place, solid as a rock for her convenience. But right or wrong, it was how she had imagined him and now she was thrown off balance.

'And you do not know where he is now?

'No. Eden screwed up her eyes in thought. 'I seem to remember Geoffrey mentioning that Oliver had business of his own to attend to — another pilgrimage or something — that he wanted to perform before he committed himself entirely to Prince Henry's service. He'll probably be here by the end of the week, and you know you'll be more than welcome to stay among the women. The Countess was only saying the other day how much she missed your green ointment for sore hands.

Catrin responded with a wan smile. Impatience and apprehension churned inside her. She wanted to see Oliver now, not at the end of the week. Waiting was impossible, but she had no other course. 'Then I'll be pleased to make her some and whatever else she wishes. Edon, if I do not have something to occupy my time, I swear I will go mad.

Godard and Edith laid Oliver down on a pallet arranged near the fire. Curious drinkers gathered round until Edith sent them off to their homes with a communal flea in the ear and barred the door.

Together she and Godard gently stripped Oliver's hauberk and gambeson. He drifted in and out of consciousness, making a continuous low moaning sound. Blood had saturated his left arm, and when Godard slit open the shirt and tunic with Edith's shears, both of them winced at the mess that de Mohun's sword had made.

'Have you needle and thread? Godard asked. 'It'll have to be stitched.

She bit her lip and unfastened her small leather needle case from her belt. 'It's more than a flesh wound, she said doubtfully. 'There's displaced bone too.

'I know. I'll just have to do my best.

She looked at him curiously. 'Can you knit bone and sew flesh then?

Godard nodded, but with more confidence than he felt and there was a waxy sheen to his skin. 'Done it on sheep a hundred times, he exaggerated. Actually it was more like two or three.

'There must be other damage too. Look at all the swelling and bruises.

Godard grunted. 'Nothing I can do about that, he said as he threaded the needle. 'I once knew two women who could, but one's dead and the other's long gone. He grimaced. 'He cannot remain here. It's too close to Ashbury and they will come looking for him. As soon as I've stitched this wound, we'll have to leave.

'We? Edith arched her brows.

'Myself and Lord Oliver.

'I see. She gave him a look sidelong, but it was totally lost on Godard who was steeling himself to stitch Oliver's wound.

'The state he's in, he may well die before you have gone more than a mile, she said.

'He will die of a certainty if they find him here. It will be dangerous for you too. I have seen what soldiers do with very little provocation.

'I suppose you are right, she said thoughtfully. 'The men ride out from Ashbury on occasion to drink and whore. My brew ensures their goodwill, but they would not turn a blind eye to such as this. She gestured at Oliver's prone form. 'How far do you intend taking him?

'Bristol. There are chirurgeons there, and he is deeply regarded by young Prince Henry himself.

Edith put her hands on her hips. 'You did not tell me you were the servants of a prince!

'A future king, Godard said in a preoccupied way, as he brought out the flask of usquebaugh and removed the stopper. 'Does it make a difference?

She cocked her head. 'It does to the hearth tales that people come to tell and have told over their ale, she answered, then continued in a brisk, practical tone, 'You will never get him to Bristol on horseback. I'll lend you my cart, providing you promise to return it within the week.

Godard nodded acceptance and, for a while, all conversation ceased as he poured the raw usquebaugh over Oliver's wound, and the injured man screamed and went rigid. 'Hold him for me, Godard commanded, his own teeth gritted. Edith moved into position, although it was difficult to know where to grip since there was scarcely a part of the knight's upper torso that was not damaged. His muscles bunched against her for an instant and then slackened as once again he sank into the mercy of oblivion.

'Lady Catrin used to say that it helped to clean out the badness, Godard said, as he began to stitch. 'But I reckon as the cure's almost as bad as the wounding. 'Who's Lady Catrin?

'A healer. My lord was once betrothed to her, but they were parted before they could wed.

'She belonged to him then, not to you, Edith said slowly and clearly.

'No, not to me, said Godard, with a masculine lack of comprehension.

Edith nodded, a gleam in her eyes. When she saw that the lord would not require further holding, she went to hardness Godard's gelding to her cart, tethering the grey stallion behind.

Godard did what he could for Oliver, which was not much beyond stitching and binding the gashed arm, and then wrapping him tightly in two blankets like a swaddled infant to keep his limbs immobile for the journey ahead.

Edith backed the horse and cart up to the alehouse door and Godard tenderly bore Oliver out and placed him on the piled bed of straw which she had made in the back.

'God speed you and bring you safely to Bristol. She presented Godard with a pig's bladder full of ale, some bread and two hard-boiled eggs wrapped in a kerchief.

Godard took them from her, and cleared his throat. 'I do not know how to thank you, he said gruffly. 'If I offered you silver, I know you would be insulted.

'Indeed I would, she sniffed and folded her arms. 'It will be thanks enough if you return the cart to me yourself when you can.

Godard cleared his throat again. 'Assuredly I will, mistress, he said and, with sudden bravado, leaned forward and kissed the soft expanse of her cheek.

She stood in the road and watched until the darkness swallowed up the sight of the pale horse attached to the back of the cart, and the rumbling noise of the wheels on the track had faded. Then, touching her cheek, she went slowly back to the alehouse and barred the door.


In some ways, Catrin thought, it was as if she had never left Bristol. If not for Rosamund and a collection of fevered memories, the time she had spent with Louis might never have existed. Countess Mabile accepted her back amongst her women with the minimum of questions, admired Rosamund, and then set Catrin to work making a batch of Ethel's famous green hand salve.

Catrin did not particularly like sleeping in the bower. As always, she felt stifled by its atmosphere, but it was a haven until she could find her feet and speak with Oliver. So much depended on their meeting and his response. She chewed her lip and tried to avoid the treadmill of imagining the encounter. She had lived it so often in her mind, had conjured every scenario from falling into his arms to being totally rejected and ignored, that there was no new ground, no wisdom to be gleaned.

She pounded lily of the valley, lemon balm, sage and plantain in a mortar, and when it was sufficiently macerated, added it to a blend of goose grease and almond oil. It worked better if the herbs were fresh, but in mid-winter the dried "substitutes had to suffice.

Chin propped on her hands, Edon watched her work. She was supposed to be weaving a length of braid, but had reached no further than the first six inches before putting the wooden tablets aside.

'Did you really have glass in the windows? she asked, with a shivering glance at the oiled linen that let scanty light and a deal of cold into the bower.

Catrin smiled and sighed at the same time. 'Yes, we had glass. Yes, it was a luxury and one that I miss, but I hated it too. Louis thought people would admire him for it, that they would look up to him, but instead it made them jealous and contemptuous. They blamed me for being a demanding wife, not him for his delusions of rank and grandeur. 'What will happen to him now?

Catrin shrugged. 'I have no doubt that he will make his way in the world. Losing Wickham will set him back, but not for long. He will change his name, his allegiance, whatever is necessary to secure his own comfort. Her eyelids tensed. 'Edon, I do not care, except with anger. She used a horn spoon to scoop a dollop of the unguent into a small clay pot, her movements jerky. 'I want to forget.