Alys read the letter to him and then burned it when he nodded to the fire. There was also a letter from the College of Heralds. Lord Hugh wanted to add a quartering to his shield to greet his new grandson. There was a precedent for the honour in Catherine's family and the old lord and the college were haggling about the justice of the claim and the price that would have to be paid for the added lustre to Hugh's name. He shook his head at their demands. 'I must watch my ambition,' he said. 'See what ambition is doing to the Boleyns, Alys. The safest place to be is halfway down the hall. Not too near the top table.'

There was a lease sent from the Bowes manor for his inspection. A tenant was resisting a change of his holding from entry and occasional fines to an annual rent. He wanted to pay his fines in goods but the castle was hungry for cash. Alys read the medieval Latin of the lease slowly, stumbling over the archaic words. Lord Hugh watched the flames in the fireplace, nodding first with concentration and then with weariness, and then his eyes slowly closed. Alys read on a few sentences more and then softly laid down the parchment and looked at him. He was fast asleep.

She rose quietly from her chair and went softly to the arrow-slit in the westward wall and looked out. Below her on the far side of the river-bank she could see Lady Catherine walking awkwardly, wrapped in furs, one hand on Hugo's arm. He was leaning towards her so that he could hear what she said above the rushing of the water. Even at that distance Alys could see Catherine's adoring gaze up at Hugo and her smile.

The old lord was dozing behind Alys, the fire crackled in the grate. Alys watched how Hugo leaned towards Catherine and how he helped her across the muddy parts of the path. At a distance Morach followed, with a basket on her arm and Eliza Herring walking at her side. The other ladies must have stayed indoors. Behind them were two armed servants on horseback. Hugo was taking no chances with the safety of his wife and unborn son.

Alys felt her hands hurting and looked down. She had clenched them into fists and her nails had marked four deep red sickles into each palm. 'Oh God, this jealousy is my crucifixion,' she whispered, but she stayed watching, unable to leave the window. Catherine slipped a little on the mud and Hugo caught her with one arm around her waist. Alys could almost hear her laugh as Hugo held her, then she turned her face up to him and his dark head came down and he kissed her.

Alys felt her cheeks burn. Somewhere, from the back of her mind, came the memory of the doll which she had thrown in the moat. The three dolls were hidden in the purse on a piece of string dangling out of the garderobe, waiting for the time that they could be buried. Alys had kept her mind away from them with the same disciplined blindness that she stopped herself thinking of the nunnery, of her mother, or of fire.

But when she saw Catherine slip, so near to those deep icy waters, she thought again of the little doll of Catherine which she had thrown far out into the green waters of the moat and which had bobbed and turned its face to her, and then smiled at her and nearly drowned her from its own power and malice.

'Oh, but I'm safe now,' Alys said aloud. 'I'm safe here indoors, while you are out there.'

She glanced back into the room. The old lord was snoring, his cap askew, his head on one side. The warm glow of the firelight flickered red on the stone walls. The deerhound dozed before the fire, paws twitching now and then in his dream.

'Nothing could hurt me here,' Alys said. She looked back out of the window. 'But you…' she whispered to Catherine. ' You are very near the water. And the spell on the dolls was very potent. So potent that your husband went to you and loved you with such passion that he has forgotten all about me. It was my power in the dolls that drew him to you. It was my power in the dolls that put that baby in your belly. And the doll for you was drowning, Catherine. Your doll was drowning.'

Alys was silent for a moment, her bewitching whisper falling into the quietness of the room.

'I had a Seeing of Hugo and me together,' she murmured. 'Perhaps that meant you died, Catherine. Perhaps you're going to die. Perhaps you're going to drown. Perhaps you're going to drown now.'

Walking a short distance behind the couple Morach paused and put her head on one side as if listening to some distant noise.

'Perhaps it will happen now,' Alys whispered. She was pressing up against the window-sill, leaning her whole body against the cold stone, forcing her will through the very walls of the castle.

'Perhaps now, Catherine,' she said. She started humming, very deep in her throat, a powerful sleepy noise like a swarm of toxic bees. 'Perhaps now,' she whispered yearningly. 'The water is very deep and very cold, Catherine. The rocks are very sharp. If you slip and fall now, you will be swept downriver and by the time they get you out, "your lungs and your belly will be filled with icy water. You nearly drowned me. I know how it feels. And soon, you will know it too.'

Morach was standing as alert as a hound listening for the horn. Then she whirled towards the castle and stared towards it, raking the arrow-slits with her stare as if she were looking for Alys, almost as if Alys had called loudly and clearly towards her. She looked straight towards the narrow slit of window in the great tower where Alys stood. For a moment the two women stared towards each other and Alys knew that – despite the distance, the narrowness of the arrow-slit and the darkness of the room – Morach was looking into her eyes and reading her mind. Then Morach yelled a wordless warning and started running towards Catherine.

Hugo turned at the shout and his hand went to his sword. Catherine swung around and lost her footing on the mud of the path, stepped backwards, and with the awkward misbalance of pregnancy stumbled on the very edge of the path. Her arms flailed like a helpless child. Alys, watching with burning eyes, was humming louder and louder, deep in her throat; and it was as if the power of the sound was pressing down on the little figure, wrapped tight in bulky furs. Catherine clawing helplessly at the air, her mouth wide in a scream, fell slowly backwards. Then she was gone – head over heels, clear over the rocks at the edge of the river, into the deep pool and down into the fast flooding waters.

Hugo tore at his sword and flung it aside, yelled at the soldiers for help, and jumped down on to the rocks and boulders at the river's edge, throwing himself towards the water. But Morach was quicker. In an instant she dived out over the rocks, deep into the pool, and went down below the water like a questing otter. She came back up and duck-dived again.

'Get out of the way, Morach,' Alys breathed through the window, shaking with dismay. 'You're my kin, not hers. You're working for my interests, not hers. Leave her, Morach. Leave her be!'

Morach shook her head, as if to rid herself of a voice in her ears, and dived. There was a flash of white as her feet kicked in the air and then a flurry of colour of drowned cloth as she surfaced with Catherine in her arms. Hugo waded in, waist deep in the water, and grabbed Catherine. Alys could see that she was limp, perhaps stunned. She knew the woman was not dead. It would have been a rare piece of luck if she had broken her neck or staved in her head on a rock. Hugo gathered Catherine into his arms and then reached out a hand for Morach. One soldier jumped down and passed the two women up to his fellow on the bank. Alys watched it all, dry-eyed, white-faced. She watched Hugo scoop Catherine back into his arms for a stumbling run towards their horses. She saw Catherine grab the pommel of the saddle with one limp hand as she was handed up on to the horse, and Morach was tossed up behind one of the soldiers. The little cavalcade moved out of sight around the curve of the tower and Alys guessed they would hurry back into the castle by one of the sally-ports. At any moment now there would be an alarm and people running, and everyone worried about Catherine and praising Morach.

Alys pushed herself stiffly away from the window and pulled out a footstool to sit at Lord Hugh's feet and watch the flames of the fire. She shivered a little as she remembered the icy greenness of the moat. Then she leaned forwards and put her chin on her hands and stared with blank, unseeing eyes into the very heart of the redness – and waited for the noise and the shouting to start.

She did not wait long. Lord Hugh jumped out of his sleep at the yell from the great hall which echoed up to his room.

'What is that? What is that?' he demanded. 'Alys! Are we under attack? What is that noise?'

'I'll go and see, my lord,' Alys said smoothly. She went to the door but as she opened it David came in. 'Nothing to alarm you, my lord,' he said swiftly. 'The Lady Catherine had a fall in the river and Lord Hugo has brought her safe home. She is being put to bed by her women. Her wise woman says she thinks the child is not hurt.' 'God be praised!' the old lord said, crossing himself.

'Tell her I'll come at once. Alys! D'you hear that! Catherine near-drowned and the heir with her! God's breath! That was a narrow escape!' 'I'd best go to her,' Alys said.

'Yes, yes. Go and see how she is and come straight back to me. I'll come and see her myself when she permits. And tell Hugo to come to me as soon as his wife is settled.'

Alys slipped from the room and ran down the stairs to the ladies' gallery. The place was in uproar. Servants were running around with wood-baskets, ewers of hot water, jugs of mulled wine and hot mead. Catherine's women were shrieking orders and then cancelling them, snatching up Catherine's hands to chafe and kiss. Hugo, supporting Catherine, was yelling for them to put a warming-pan in Catherine's bed and clear the room so she could be undressed. Morach, ignoring the hubbub, dripped a wet path to Alys' chamber. She checked when she saw Alys in the doorway and their eyes met.

'You swim like a witch,' Alys said, not caring who heard her.

'And you curse like one,' Morach replied, venom in her voice,

'Why meddle?' Alys asked, dropping her voice so her words were lost in the shouting. 'You heard my power, you know what I was doing. Why meddle in my work?'

Morach shrugged. 'That's a death I'd wish on no one,' she said. She shuddered as if she was chilled to her soul. 'I'd hate to die by water,' she said. 'I couldn't stand by and see a woman die by water. Not a young woman, not a young woman with child, not one that I'd served. You're a harder woman than me, Alys, if you could have stood by and watched her drown.'

'I was holding her under with all the power I have,' Alys said through her teeth.

'And I pulled her out,' Morach said, blazing. 'There are some deaths no woman should suffer. I'd rather any death than drowning. I'd rather any death in the world than going under the water and choking my way to hell.'

Alys glanced around her. Eliza Herring was within earshot, though screeching instructions to a servant. 'Thank God you were there,' Alys said loudly.

Morach gleamed under her dripping mat of grey hair. 'Thank you for your good wishes.' She pushed past Alys and went into their little room, slamming the door. Alys turned and clapped her hands together. 'You men!' she said, her voice clear above the noise, 'Out! All of you! We cannot get Lady Catherine abed with you all here. Eliza! Turn down her bed. You girl!' – to a passing maid – 'Get those warming-pans into her bed. And you' – to another – 'see the fires are banked high in her chamber and this one.'

The room emptied at once. 'Out of the way!' Alys said crossly to the maidservants and to Catherine's ladies who still cluttered the room. She took Catherine's other arm and she and Hugo led the shivering woman into her chamber and lowered her into a chair by the fire.

'Fetch towels and sheets,' Alys ordered Hugo, without looking at him. She pulled off Catherine's sodden fur cloak and dropped it on the floor. Then she unpinned her head-dress, undid her gown, and stripped her with hard hands until the woman was naked.

Hugo passed her the towels and both of them rubbed her hard all over until her white skin glowed pink and the roughness of the gooseflesh had subsided. Then Alys wrapped her tight in the warm sheets and Hugo lifted her into bed. Alys piled rugs on top of her and pulled the warming-pans out to refill them with fresh embers, while Hugo gave her hot mead to drink. Her teeth chattered pitifully on the cup. Alys, at the fireside, shovelling embers, hunched her shoulders. 'I'm cold,' Catherine said.