I know it was she Magistrate Thompson took in the woods, the story was whispered to me the first time I joined the women washing clothes. She seems but a slip of a lass. I’ve tried to protest her innocence, as much as a newcomer can, but none will listen.

Across the crowd I look for Daniel, who of all in the village will surely offer her a kind word, but once more find myself facing Gabriel.

‘Oh, I brought you wine,’ he says, holding out the cup as if to prove the truth of his words. It looks absurdly small clasped in his great, meaty fist.

‘I’ve some already.’

‘Yes, I see.’

I look past him. Somewhere nearby is Daniel.

He clears his throat, stands awkwardly holding the wine and his cider. ‘You are a timid lass,’ he says.

‘I am not.’

‘No, no, not timid, I misspoke. I mean, that is, you are – a innocent.’

He calls me whore when in my rags, innocent when dressed like any other girl. ‘Really you do not know me so well as to pronounce my character,’ I say.

‘But I should like to.’

‘Why?’

He shifts his weight, goes to lift his cap and spills wine down his tunic, curses quietly. Sweat balls and trickles down his cheek. He squints into the setting sun, then back at me. Clears his throat again. ‘I have not the pretty words you deserve, but to see you there all the time, with those eyes and your—’ He gestures towards me, spilling more wine. ‘And I a farm worker and you a dairymaid, it’s clear that …’

His voice peters out. Were it not for the taste of his thumb still on my tongue, his fist on my cheek, I might pity his stumbling advances. I stare him down, made bold by wine and anger, until he hangs his head and I’ve the satisfaction of watching colour spread over his face.

Past him I see Daniel, and call out to him. He glances at Gabriel, hesitates, then walks over.

Gabriel looks at me miserably, and walks away. I am filled with momentary pity, and must remind myself of the brute he is.

‘Shall you dance?’ Daniel asks.

‘Oh I – don’t know that I can.’

He takes my empty drink, throws it to the grass and pulls me, laughing and protesting, to the circle by the fire. And I am moving, my head filled with music. The warmth of flames on my face, the voices of those around me. Daniel’s hand in mine. We dance on and on, until we can barely breathe.

If only my family could be part of this. If only the fear of discovery did not lurk in the shadows. Then I would have crossed the river, to become the new Sarah.

As the music slows, so do we. Daniel leans so close I feel his lips against my neck. ‘Come with me,’ he whispers.