“Where is it?” Gryff asked. “The priory?”

“To the west, and not far,” said Hal, when Nan did not answer. “It is easily reached by nightfall, even do you stop and eat with us. Will you not share our meal, as thanks for delivering a servant so sorely needed?”

Gryff could hear the warm persuasion in his friend’s voice, learned from his father. As hard to resist as it was, Nan did not readily agree. She seemed to consider it a moment, glancing over her shoulder to the girl who stood in the street. Gryff prayed for the heavy clouds to open up and make the prospect of travel more dismal.

“If you take me in your home even for an hour,” she said quietly, “you must take also a whore who travels with me, and the risk that follows me for certain troubles I have lately caused. I know you cannot welcome either of those things.”

Her face burned now, a flush along her cheeks and neck that spoke her shame as she kept her eyes downcast. Gryff did not want to look away from her even for an instant, but he made himself. He turned to Hal, only to see his friend had already decided.

“There will not come an hour when you are not welcome here, no matter who or what accompanies you,” Hal answered, just as quietly. “I thought my friend lost to me forever. And so he would be, without you.”

Her eyes came up at that, a startled look that landed on Gryff. He had told Hal some of it – how the villains had held him and what had happened when they attacked her party on the road. It was only the barest facts with few details, just enough to explain these last few months of his life. He had not said a word to his friend about the depth of his gratitude to Nan. There was no need.

She turned back to Hal and seemed to consider his offer.

“I would not wish to return your welcome with misfortune.” She looked squarely at him and took a deep breath before speaking bluntly. “I’ve done a grave injury to a man, because he would hold a girl when she wished to escape. He may come after me – or as he cannot walk, he’ll send the sheriff after me. And then you’ll be found to have me at your table, and a whore too. It’s better I leave Lincoln without delay than I bring such disrepute to your good name.”

“Was the hue and cry sent up against you?” asked Hal.

“Nay. But nor did I leave that place quietly.”

At this, the little girl spoke up. “Bettie don’t call on the watchmen, and she told us we was never to do it,” said the child, eager to explain. “The tanner will have to go himself, when he is sober and able to stand on one leg.”