I set my teeth and fixed my eyes on my work. If Red could hear you say that to me, he would kill you. Uncle or no uncle.

He laughed. “Oh, I do like that grim expression, the spark in the eye. What is going through that little head of yours, I wonder? Think Hughie boy might come galloping back to the rescue? Don’t think so. Not a chance. Wherever he’s off to, it’s far, far away. You can tell by their expressions. Very anxious, they are, certain individuals—very keen to reach him, I’m told, but seems nobody quite knows where he is. Haven’t done him a mischief too, have you?” His eyes narrowed. “I trust that’s not part of the plan. I have a role for Hugh and I intend to see he carries it out according to my wishes. Don’t hope for salvation in that quarter, girlie. He’s not coming. Not until you’re done with, dead and buried, out of my nephew’s life and mine for good. My network is extensive. When he’s on his way home, I’ll know; and he may find himself—delayed. Nothing harmful, mind; just a little diversion to keep him away long enough.”

My hands stopped momentarily, the shuttle between the threads. One foot after the other. I breathed again, and pulled the weft tight.

“That stopped you in your tracks, didn’t it? Surely you didn’t imagine—no, even you couldn’t be so stupid. Death is the only possible penalty, my dear. It’s only the method that gives cause for reflection. So many to choose from, each more—piquant—than the last. There’s carrying a weight of hot iron over a marked distance. Not for you, I think. There’s plucking a stone from a vat of boiling water. Seen that one carried out, fellow required a certain amount of—persuasion. There are the quick methods, hanging, drowning, various things with a knife. Less entertaining, those. I rather fancy something with heat. So hard to decide. So I’m waiting for divine assistance. Father Stephen of Ravenglass is the bishop’s man, a learned cleric and a very old friend. The Reverend Father is skilled in the driving out of demons, and cleansing, and dealing with the art of sorcery. I rely on his judgment totally. I cannot think of a single occasion when we have found ourselves in disagreement. We are of one mind. His support will give my verdict—respectability. Essential, I think, for when your husband returns.”

A shiver ran through me. I would have trusted my life to Father Brien, and I had seen wisdom and kindness in the face of the man who had heard my wedding vows, that night in the woods. But something told me there would be no such understanding in Father Stephen’s eyes. I began to believe, finally, that I was going to die. But my fingers kept on with their steady movement, in and out, in and out, as I wove another square for the sixth shirt.

“You know,” observed Richard, “perhaps you really are a fool. Perhaps you really don’t understand our language as well as Hugh thinks. Aren’t you afraid? Wouldn’t you like a chance to save yourself? Any other girl would be on her knees pleading by now. And it would be easy. Quite easy.” He was almost purring, like a satisfied cat; but no cat would stoop so low.