“Your name’s Jenny, isn’t it?” she said quietly. “I’m Margery, John’s wife.”

I nodded, picking up my spindle again. There had been a pointed hush among the other women; now they resumed their talk.

“I’m told you have quite some skill with healing,” she went on, giving me a sideways glance. “That gash of Red’s—of Lord Hugh’s—cannot have been easy to treat out there. He owes you much.”

I looked at her, and my surprise must have been obvious. She was amused.

“These men do talk from time to time, my dear,” she said. “You’d be surprised how much I hear. And though John keeps himself to himself, he is not blind. He’s been Red’s—Lord Hugh’s—friend for a long time, since well before I came to live at Harrowfield. He understands what Hugh does not speak aloud. Your coming has put a stir in this household that will not settle quickly.”

I thought about this. We had seen the men at the evening meal, and all three whom I knew had acknowledged me courteously. Ben had grinned, and tweaked my long plait, almost as Cormack might have done. John had greeted me by my new name, and seated himself by me at table, ignoring the lady Anne’s frown. I wondered if the guard were to be continued, in one form or another, even during the day. Of Red, seated at the head of the board as was fitting, I saw the least, but I felt his eyes on me as the meal progressed, and as I endured the noise and the smells and the nearness of so many strangers, and longed for night to come.

John did not talk much, but I noticed he stopped the servants from putting roast meats on my platter, and made sure I did eat something, and when some of the young men grew boisterous with ale and began to aim ribald comments in my direction, he silenced them with a few carefully chosen words. As Red’s friend, he had authority. He was, I learned in time, some sort of distant cousin of the family, and had lived at Harrowfield all his life. I was glad enough of his protection, and I noticed again in the days to come, as there was no sign of any mellowing in the household’s attitude to me, that there was always someone watching me. While I sat with the ladies, Margery was there, always kind, always ready to step out of the charmed circle and sit by me, happy enough to hold a one-sided conversation, her eyes full of concern as she watched my painful progress with distaff and spindle, never passing a word in judgment. I was sure her motives were kindly, but I also wondered if somebody had asked her to keep an eye on me. The nightly guard continued. One of them would watch from the time I went to my room until midnight, and another from midnight to dawn. Each of them, I supposed, had one good night’s sleep in three. I observed them without their knowing it, and noted that this task fell only to Ben, and John, and Red. I wondered if, in all this large and obedient household, there were just two people that Red thought he could really trust.