“That’s all?” She looked quite shocked. I could hear the unspoken questions. Where on earth did he find you? What possessed him to bring you back here, and with nothing but the clothes on your back? Why?

Megan spoke again, surprising me. “That was Simon’s dog,” she said. “My lord Hugh’s brother. Alys, he called her. She’s old now; he had her since he was no more than an infant. Never let anyone near her since he went away. Fends for herself, mostly. She’d snap your fingers off, if you went to pet her. Until now.” She reached a tentative hand toward the small hound; it responded with a deep growl, baring its teeth. “See?” said Megan lightly. “Vicious little thing. Seems to like you well enough, though.”

I managed a smile of sorts, and she grinned back, her natural curiosity overcoming her wariness.

“I’ll speak to my lady Anne,” she said. “Find you a nightrobe and some other things. And I’ll come back for you in the morning, show you where to go. We rise early here.”

That night I slept; but bone-weariness and the effects of the wine were not enough to blot out entirely the night terrors that still beset me, and I woke suddenly from a dream that is best left untold, a dream that I had often, the sort of dream that wove its way into my daily thoughts, so that I still shuddered each time a man touched me, the sort of dream that made my whole body cringe, and tremble, and my heart pound in my chest. Alys lay heavily on my feet; she had not woken. A dim light from the waning moon shone into the room. And there were low voices outside.

I got up and went softly to the window. Both doors were barred, although I would have been happier to leave one ajar, to smell the night scents of lavender and woodbine, to feel the cool breeze on my skin. But I had lost the ability to trust; I was no longer protected by the sweet cloak of innocence. So I had bolted my doors. But I stood on tiptoe on the wooden chest, and looked out into the garden. Two shadowy figures were exchanging quiet words; both wore dark clothing, and I saw the glint of weapons in the faint light. One of them went out through a gate in the wall; flaxen-haired, somewhat jaunty in his gait, even in the middle of the night. The other was taller, and walked with a slight limp. He settled by the wall at the far end of the garden, relaxed but alert, one leg stretched out, barely visible in the shadows. It was a long watch till daybreak.

I couldn’t tell if I felt better or worse, knowing I was under some sort of guard. Where did they think I could escape to, here in the middle of their country with neither a pair of boots nor a water bottle to my name? Besides, after the reception I’d got so far at Harrowfield it seemed unlikely the local folk would offer me much help if I tried to make it to the coast. And what was I supposed to do then, swim for home? No, I was stuck here whether I liked it or not. So why the guard?