The house was full of flowers and greenery, and folk smiled, for a wedding meant renewal, and stability, and another generation to learn the careful husbandry of tree and beast, the wise and protective nurture of the good folk of the valley. At home, you would never choose Beltane for a wedding, not if you wanted the marriage to last. I sat in my garden sewing by lantern light, and imagined Red showing a small son how to plant an acorn; showing a tiny daughter how a sheep’s wool could be shorn, and grow again. Elaine was not in this mind picture; perhaps, I thought grimly, even when wed she would be kept occupied by her father, who was overkeen to display an interest in the affairs of Harrowfield.

He had arrived that morning, a few days after his daughter. I saw little of him, but I heard his expedition had not gone according to plan, and he was in an ill temper. The supper was festive. The household ate and drank and laughed, and made the sort of jokes you would expect, but in good humor. Richard sat back in his chair and watched me with hooded eyes. Red and Elaine maintained a quiet, exclusive conversation. Ben seemed unusually withdrawn. He was drinking sparingly and frowning into his goblet, his thoughts far away. Margery did not come down.

Lady Anne had done us proud, with course following course on silver platters, roast meats and fresh poached fish, neither of which I could touch; vegetables carved into cunning shapes, soups and sauces and sweetmeats. I longed for the quiet and privacy of my room, but would not offend the family by leaving early. And then they brought on the prize dish, stuffed and garnished and glazed to a warm, glistening gold. A great roast bird, flanked by carrots and turnips and onions, the savory smell of it filling the nostrils and causing a small cheer to go around the festive board. I suppose I was slow to react. I did not think, for long moments. And then I realized what it was, and my stomach heaved and my brow was suddenly dripping with sweat and the whole room reeled and danced before my eyes. I knocked over my chair in a headlong dash for the door, and upset a serving woman with a jug of gravy. At least I did not shame them by spewing the contents of my stomach on the floor of the great hall. I made it outside, just, and stood shaking, shivering and retching till my body had rejected every morsel of food it had in it, and long after. The terrible sight was still before my eyes, the ghastly smell in my nostrils, clinging to my clothing, all around me as their voices came in snatches through the open door.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Somebody slip something nasty in the food? Come on then, who’s the culprit? Been tempted myself, sometimes.”

“You’d never get away with it, not now. Everything’s checked. Makes you wonder.”