Dimly, my ears were picking up an increase in activity outside the room, the sound of raised voices and hastening steps. The light was too poor for working, and my mind was numb and exhausted with my efforts. I went to the door and looked out just as Megan hurried by, her arms full of linen. I caught her sleeve, raising my brows in question.

“It’s Mistress Margery,” she said breathlessly. “Been having her pains all afternoon, very strong they are, but the midwife says there’s something wrong. Babe’s the wrong way round, she says, and you know what that means. Poor Mistress Margery. Her first babe died, you know. Looks like it might be the same again.”

Her words shocked me back into this world. Margery’s child, which was so precious to her. She and John had lost one, they must not lose another. I could help. I had done this before, I knew just what to do. I could not tell them this, but I could show them. I followed the bustling Megan to Margery’s quarters, where there were women clustered around the door, and light within. Megan vanished inside with her clean cloths. But my way was barred by one of Lady Anne’s waiting women.

“Not you,” she said firmly. I hesitated only a moment, then tried to make my way past her. This was ridiculous. If Margery was in trouble, she needed me. Surely she wanted me. And I knew what to do, at least I thought I did. The woman’s arm shot out to block my way.

“You can’t go in there,” she said. “You’ll not be allowed to set your curse on a woman in childbirth, nor lay your filthy hands on her unborn babe. Be off with you. Your kind are not welcome here.” I would have slapped her face, if I hadn’t known it would only make things worse. I drew a deep breath.

“What’s the matter?” came a voice from within the room. It was the lady Anne, who now came to the door, hearing her women’s raised voices. “Jenny. What are you doing here?” She looked tired and sad, and not at all pleased to see me. I used my hands to speak to her. I can help. I know these things. Let me help. Let me in.

Lady Anne looked at me wearily. “I don’t think so, Jenny,” she said, and she was already turning away. “We have our own midwife here. She has skills enough; if she cannot save this babe then I fear nobody can.” And she was gone.

“You heard my lady,” said another woman. “Be off with you. We don’t need your kind. It’s a healer that’s wanted here, not a killer. Why don’t you go back where you came from, witch?”

I left. What was the point? But I could have wept, thinking of Margery who had become my friend, and who now risked losing what she had waited for so lovingly. I went back to my room, made sure my preparations for the night were complete, then paced up and down the garden as Alys sniffed around under the lavender bushes. I felt the chill deepen as the sky grew darker, and nightfall closer. My heart grew heavy with foreboding. Death was very close that day; I felt her in my bones. No warm hearth nor guardian holly branch could keep her out, where she chose to enter. I wished I could don cloak and boots and go to the river now, could be there at the moment when the sun dropped below the horizon and the land grew gray and purple and black. But I knew Red. I must appear at the table or a search would be mounted. There was no escape until full dark. He needed neither lock nor key to keep me prisoner.