But as the old woman was saying, “You’ve your mother’s beauty, you always did,” the dog began to howl. In a corner of the room it had discovered some chickens, evidently a very alarming sight that called for a great deal of noise.

Gryff stepped past Nan and said, “Bran!” in the same moment she cried, “Fuss!” This had the advantage of confusing the dog, who immediately paused in his outcry to look at them both in turn. Before he started up again, Gryff crossed the floor and knelt down to distract him amid a cloud of feathers. At the edge of his vision he could see Nan pressing the tears from her eyes.

“Is this your lad?” asked the old woman. “Oh aye, you’re of an age to be married now! Come let me see him.”

She held Nan’s hand tight and beckoned Gryff to come nearer. He looked to Nan, unsure.

“Nay, Aunt Mary, I have me no husband. We only journey together for safety on the road to Lincoln.”

She said no more than this, whether from circumspection or her natural disinclination to speech, and dismay came into the old woman’s face. She looked as if she might begin to weep again, but for different reasons.

“You were ever a good girl, Nan. I did my best by you, and if you have been brought so low that you must prostitute yourself then all I would hope–”

“Nay, goodwife, never would she dishonor herself or your good name. I beg you will not slander your niece for the charity she has shown me.” He came to her so she could see him well, his words striking a jarring note even in his own ears. They spoke so plain and humble, and he did not. “So urgent was her need to find you that she would not be delayed in waiting for the safety of a larger party, yet did she take pity on me in my distress and allows me to accompany her to Lincoln. By my hope of heaven do I swear there is no dishonor in it.”

He bent lower to be sure she could see him. She squinted up at him, the disapproval fading from her face as he spoke. Her eyes went round, and she gave a little gasp, turning to Nan.

“Oh he speaks fine words, and I’ve been forgetting you are a favorite of the lady of Morency!” She sat up straight but lowered her eyes, suddenly meek. She patted the grimy kerchief that covered her hair, as though a worried touch could turn it into a silk veil. “You won’t be in the habit no more of humble ways, though I’ll welcome ye as best I can. The winter stores are all but gone now, but Edmer will bring a bit of cheese. And there’s always the chickens–”