'Alys!' he said as she came in. 'I need you to read this. It's written small. I cannot see it.' 'From London?' Alys asked.

The old lord nodded. 'The bird brought it to me,' he said. 'My homing pigeons. Clever little birds, through all this bad weather. It must be urgent for my man to send them out into snow. What does it say?'

The letter was from one of Lord Hugh's informants at court. It was unsigned, with a code of numbers to represent the King, the Queen, Cromwell and the other lords. Lord Hugh had his own methods for making sure that his sovereign sprang no surprises on his loyal vassals.

Alys read it through and then glanced up at Lord Hugh. 'Grave news,' she said. Hugh nodded. 'Tell me.'

'He says the Queen was taken to her bed. She was with child, a boy child, and he is lost.'

'Oho,' Lord Hugh said softly. 'That's bad for her.' Alys scanned the paper. 'Sir Edward Seymour is to become a member of the privy chamber.' She glanced at Lord Hugh. He was nodding, looking at the fire.

'The Queen blames the miscarriage on a shock from His Majesty's fall,' Alys read. 'But there is one who says that he heard the King say that God will not give him male children with the Queen.' 'That's it then,' Lord Hugh said with finality. Alys looked up at him questioningly. 'That's it for the Queen,' he said, speaking low. 'It will be another divorce I suppose. Or naming her as a concubine and returning to Rome. He's a widower now that Catherine is dead.'

'He could return to the Pope?' Alys asked incredulously.

'Maybe,' Lord Hugh said softly. 'Queen Anne is on the order of her going, that is for certain. Miscarriage, blame…' he broke off.

'He could restore the priests to their power?' Alys asked.

Lord Hugh glanced at Alys and laughed shortly. 'Aye,' he said. 'There might be a safe nunnery for you yet, Alys. What d'you think of that?'

Alys shook her head in bewilderment. 'I don't know,' she said. 'I don't know what to think. It's so sudden!'

Lord Hugh gave his short laugh. 'Aye,' he said. 'You have to skip very fast to keep pace with the King's conscience. This marriage is now against the will of heaven too, it seems. And Seymour's star is rising.'

He nodded towards a leather pouch of letters. 'These came by messenger,' he said. 'Scan them and see if there is anything I should know.'

Alys broke the seal on the first. It was written plainly in English and dated in January.

'From your cousin, Charles,' she said. 'He says there are to be new laws against beggary,' Alys read.

Lord Hugh nodded. 'Skip that bit,' he said. 'You can tell me later.'

'It is the coldest winter ever known,' Alys read. 'The Thames is frozen and the barges cannot be used. The watermen are suffering much hardship, starving for lack of work. Some of them have their boats stuck fast in the ice and the boats are being crushed. There is talk of a winter fair.'

Lord Hugh waved a hand. 'Read me that later,' he said. 'Anything which affects the north? Any new taxes?'

Alys shook her head. 'He speaks of the King's accident, a fall while jousting.'

'I knew of it already. Anything else?' 'He suggests that you write pressing your claim for the monastery lands which abut your manors,' Alys said. She could feel her lips framing each word precisely as she thought of the wide fertile fields either side of the river. Mother Hildebrande used to like to walk in the meadows before haymaking, smelling the heady scent of the flowers growing wild and thick among the grass. On a summer evening their perfume stole across the river to the gardens, to the chambers, even to the chapel, like a sweet, natural incense. Now these lands were spoil – up for offer.

'He says, "You and Hugo are well praised for the goods you have sent south and for your loyal zeal. Now is the time to prompt the King to reward your labour. He is also open to money bids for the land, beneficial leases, or land exchanges. They are saying that a lease of three lives will pay for itself over and over."'

The old lord nodded. Twenty-one-year leases,' he said softly. He shook his head. 'It would see me out, but what of Hugo? Anything else?'

Alys turned the page. 'Prices of corn, coal and beef,' she said. 'Prices of furs and wine.'

'Anything else about the north?' Lord Hugh asked. 'No,' Alys replied. 'But the laws about vagrants will affect your lands.'

They were silent for a moment, the old lord looking deep into the fire as if he would see his way clear through the changes which were coming.

'This other letter,' he said abruptly. 'Translate it for me. It's from the bishop's clerk and he writes in Latin. Read me it in English.'

Alys took the paper and drew up her stool to the table. It was a letter from the bishop's clerk outlining the acceptable causes and reasons for an annulment of the marriage between Lady Catherine and Lord Hugo. Alys felt the sudden heat come into her face. She looked up at the old lord. He was looking at her quizzically.

'I can send the old shrew away,' he said. 'Barren old shrew. Send her away and free Hugo.' A wide smile as bright as his son's cracked his grave face. 'I've done it!' he said. 'I've freed Hugo. Now he'll have a plump new wife with a fat new dowry and I shall live long enough to see my heir!' Alys' face was sour. 'You don't know then?' 'Know what?' he asked, his face darkening. 'Out with it, girl, you're my source for women's tattle. You should come to me with whatever news you have the moment you get it.'

'She's with child,' Alys said. 'I suppose that changes everything.'

For a moment he hardly heard her, then his face lit up with joy. 'With child!' His fist banged down on the forgotten, redundant letter. 'With child at last!' He threw back his head and laughed. Alys watched him, her mouth pressed tight.

'With child at last!' he said again. Then he checked himself. 'Is she sure? Have you looked at her? This is no ruse, is it, Alys? Does she think to save her skin for another few months with pretences?'

Alys shook her head. 'She's pregnant. I checked her. And she sent for my kinswoman, Morach, who is to stay with us until the birth. They've just struck their deal.'

'Boy or girl?' the old man asked eagerly. 'Tell me, Alys. What d'you think? Boy or girl?' 'I think it's a boy,' Alys said unwillingly. 'Has she told Hugo?' the old lord demanded. 'Curse the lad! Where is he?'

'She told him,' Alys said. 'He's out hunting venison for you, my lord. I don't know if he's back yet.'

'He went out without telling me?' the old lord asked, his face suddenly darkening. 'He gets the shrew in pup and then he goes out without telling me?'

Alys said nothing, her hands clasped in her lap and her eyes down.

'Hah!' Lord Hugh said. 'Not best pleased, was he?' Alys said nothing.

'She told him this morning and he went straight out?' Lord Hugh checked. Alys nodded.

'In a rage I suppose,' the old lord said ruminatively. 'He was counting on an annulment. He'll know that's not possible now.' The fire crackled. The old lord sat silent in thought. 'Family comes first,' he said finally. 'Duty comes first. He can take his pleasures elsewhere – as he always has done. But now that his wife is with child, she is his wife forever. The child is well – d'you think?'

'These are early days,' Alys said. Her lips were cold and the words came out carefully. 'Queen Anne herself can tell you that many a baby is lost before birth. But as far as I can tell, the child is well.' 'And a boy?' the old man pressed her. Alys nodded.

'That is well!' he said. 'Very well. Queen Anne or no! This is the nearest to an heir that we have ever come. Tell Catherine to wear something pretty tonight, I will drink her health before them all. She can come to my room as soon as she is dressed. I will take a glass with her.'

Alys nodded. 'And me, my lord?' she asked. 'These other letters?'

Lord Hugh waved her away. 'You can go,' he said. 'I have no need of you now.'

Alys rose from the chair, curtsied and went to the door. 'Wait!' he said abruptly. Alys paused.

'Thrust those papers from the bishop in the fire,' he said. 'We don't want to risk Catherine seeing them. She would be distressed. We cannot risk her distress. Burn them, Alys, there will be no annulment now!'

Alys stepped forward and gathered the thick manuscripts into her hands. She pushed them into the back of the fire and watched them flame and blacken and crumble. She found that she was staring at the fire, her face blank and hard.

'You can go,' the old lord said softly. Alys dropped him a curtsey and went out, closing the door softly behind her. David the dwarf was coming up the stairs, his sharp little face curious.

'You look drab, Alys,' he remarked. 'Are you sick? Or heartbroken? What's the old woman doing in the ladies' chamber? Are you not glad to have your kinswoman take your place?'

Alys turned her head aside and went down the stairs without answering.

'Is it true?' David called after her. 'Is it true what the women are whispering? Lady Catherine is in child and Hugo is in love with her, and she is high in the lord's favour again?'

Alys paused on the turret stair and looked back up at him, her pale face luminous in the gloom. 'Yes,' she said simply. 'All of my wishes have been fulfilled. What a blessing.'

'Amen,' said David, his face creasing into ironic laughter. 'And you so joyful!'

'Yes,' Alys said sourly, and went on downstairs.

Hugo was late from hunting and came to the high table when they were eating their meats. He apologized gracefully to his father and kissed Catherine's hand. They had great sport, he told them. They had killed nine bucks. They were hanging in the meat larder now and the antlers would be brought in for Lord Hugh. The hides, tanned, perfumed and soft, would make a cradle, a new cradle for the new Lord Hugo.

He did not once look at Alys, and she kept her gaze on her plate and ate little. Around her the babble of excited women's talk swayed and eddied like a billowy sea. Morach was silent too – eating her way through dish after dish with determined concentration.

When supper was over both Hugo and the old lord came to the ladies' chamber and the women played and sang for them and Catherine sewed as she talked. Her colour was high, she was wearing a new gown of cream with a rose-pink overskirt and a rose stomacher, slashed, with the cream gown pulled through. In the candlelight with her hair newly washed and dressed and her face animated with happiness she looked younger, prettier. The old bony greedy look had gone. Alys watched her glow under Hugo's attention, heard her quick laughter at the old lord's jests, and hated her.

'I need to pick some herbs in the moonlight,' she said quietly. 'I must ask you to excuse me, my lords, my lady.'

Catherine's bright face turned towards her. 'Of course,' she said dismissively. 'You may go.'

The old lord nodded his permission. Hugo was dealing cards and did not look up. Alys went down the stairs and across the hall, out through the great hall doors and into the yard of the inner manse and then turned to her right to walk between the vegetable- and herb-beds.

She needed nothing, but it was good to be out of the hot chamber and under the icy high sky. She stood for minutes in the moonlight, holding her cape tight around her, her hood up over her head. Then she walked slowly the length of the garden and back again. She was not planning. She was not thinking. She was beyond thought and plans or even spells. She was hugging to her heart the great ache of loneliness and disappointment and loss. Hugo would remain married to Catherine, they would have a son. He would be the Lord one day and Catherine the Lady of the castle. And Alys would be always the barely tolerated healer, clerk and hanger-on. Disliked by Catherine, forgotten by Hugo, retained on a small pension from the old lord because in that large household one mouth more or less made little difference.

She could marry – marry a soldier or a farmer and leave the castle for her own little cottage. Then she would work from sunrise until hours after dark, bear one child after another, every year until she fell sick and then died.

Alys shook her head as she walked. The little hovel on Bowes Moor had not been enough for her, the abbey had been a refuge she thought would stand forever, the castle had been a step on her way, and her sudden unexpected desire for Hugo and his love for her had been a gift and a joy she had not anticipated. And now it was gone.

Behind her the hall door opened and Hugo came out.

'I can't stay long,' he said in greeting. He took her cold hands in his warm ones and held them gently. 'Don't grieve,' he said. 'Things will come out.'