“Under the filth, you’re still quite a succulent little slut,” he said softly. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that you still have some goods to trade? I’m a man, my dear. I might be bought, as Hugh was. Undo your buttons, let me see the flesh where your clothing hides its whiteness. Or shall I do it for you?”

I spat, accurately, on the toe of his polished boot. He responded with a gust of laughter.

“Oh, dear! She took me seriously! Well done, little whore! Standing on her dignity! You don’t really think I’d dirty my hands on you? Smeared with your own filth, and with those great rough paws? Once, I might have done. But I’m not desperate enough to take my nephew’s leavings. I have far brighter prospects in sight; that young widow, for instance, what was her name, Molly, Mary? Showing a great deal too much interest in your fate; makes me wonder if she’s a proper person to bring up a young boy. Must do something about that. Take steps. Needs a good strong man in her life, straighten her out, teach her a few tricks. Well, my dear. I’ll leave you now. Enjoy yourself. It won’t be much longer.”

There was no time for hate. No time for fear. After a while, I found that there were some tasks I could do in the dark, and I stopped sleeping. There was no time for rest. I finished the front of the last shirt, and began to weave the back. Outside, the season was well advanced, and early leaves were blown across my tiny patch of sky. I judged that it was close to Meán Fómhair, and that I had been imprisoned here for three moons. In my mind I saw the late roses in full bloom, the berries fat and glossy on bramble and currant bush, bees busy among swathes of lavender. I thought, the apples will be ripening. He said…but I would not let myself finish the thought, for there was no time for foolish hope. Spin. Weave. Sew. One foot before the other. And again. On and on into the dark.

Almost every day, Richard came. Sometimes it was only for a few moments, but more often he was in expansive mood, wanting to talk. Now that he had me, as he thought, in the palm of his hand, he grew less cautious. For after all, I could hardly repeat what I heard, could I, even supposing I had the opportunity, which was unlikely. And so, piece by piece, as if solving a puzzle in small steps, I began to learn another side of the story.

“So, here we are again. Can’t say you’re looking well, my dear, that would be stretching the imagination just a little far. Feeding you enough, are they? Just enough. I want you kept alive, until the hearing. Justice must be seen to be done, after all. Unfortunate that Father Stephen has been delayed so long. Busy man. But he’ll be here, never fear. Mind you, if it’s too long, we’ll go ahead without him. Hugh’s weak. Besotted, that’s the word. Can’t risk waiting till he gets back. Even after this, even after you run out to satisfy your itch with another man, and sell his secrets under his nose, the boy can’t be relied onto do the right thing. No, it must be soon, and public. Decisive. Final. That’s what people expect, and that’s what I’ll give them. Something spectacular with fire, I think. That way, we get rid of the sorceress and her spells in one dizzying, dazzling display of heat and light. Orgasmic. Blissful. I shall so enjoy myself.”