There was another thing being said, and this I liked even less. This was that the evil enchantment they spoke of was in the work I did, the twisted, tortuous spinning and weaving of spindlebush (for so they called it). It was through this strange activity that I spread my influence over the household, and in particular, over Hugh. They could see it was shirts I was making. I had thought them a people with no tales, but once they came on this idea, it seemed every waiting women, every cottager had some old story of a garment with evil powers, that burned or poisoned or drove its wearer mad. The idea spread frighteningly fast and after a while people did not bother to lower their voices to a hush, for it seemed they no longer cared if I heard what they said about me. My friends in the household tried to protect me from it, but this became impossible.

Then small wrong things began to happen. I slipped and muddied my gown when out walking. Lady Anne gave it to a servant for cleaning, but there was a mishap, and the gown was returned to me strangely stained. Unwearable. But it was the only one I had. So I wore it until Lady Anne, frowning, found me another, even plainer and more shapeless than the last. I wore that, and held my head high. Then Alys went missing. This drove me frantic, for it put me in mind of the lady Oonagh, and the strange cruel tricks she had played on our household at Sevenwaters, and I spent the best part of a day hunting everywhere and trying not to let my panic show. My mind dwelled on my faithful Linn, who had died in the forest trying to protect me, and when I thought of her I was overwhelmed by images of that terrible day when I had carried her body home through the forest and had waited, weeping and bleeding, for my brothers’ return. I schooled my face to calm as best I could, and searched methodically in the house, in the stables, in the barn, under hedges, in the orchard. I felt quite alone that day, for Lady Anne kept Margery indoors and the men were busy about the farm. I might have asked Megan to help me search, for she was still friendly enough, but she was minding Johnny and could not be called.

By late afternoon I was becoming resigned to the fact that I would not find Alys; that something ill had happened to her. I resolved to wait in my garden, and to ask Ben or John for advice when they came home. But it seemed there was no need for this, for as I rounded the corner by the kitchen door, there she was, sitting on the stone steps outside my room with an expectant look, apparently none the worse for wear. I let my breath out in a sigh of relief and exasperation. Where had she been hiding all this time? How dare she worry me so about nothing, the rascal? I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.