She would have said more but she was distracted by a young girl who stood at her elbow, trying to get her attention without interrupting. It reminded Nan of herself when she was that age – perhaps ten years or so, the same age as when her father traded her to the weaver for a handful of coins. But this girl, with her black hair and eagerness to please, was not starved or dirty. She held out Nan’s knife, the one that had dropped to the ground when she saw Bea.

Nan took it and thanked the girl, but the knife prompted more questions from her sister. She spent the rest of the afternoon explaining that she had learned the knives for defense, never saying it was Lady Gwenllian who had taught her. Instead, she told how she served Gwenllian in the herb-house, and with needle and thread, and many other household duties. Those women who stayed and listened seemed as overly impressed as Aunt Mary had been.

But Bea only seemed a little amused.

“It’s no astonishment to me, making yourself the favorite of a great lady.” She laughed in a way that was a little mocking, the barbed tease of a true sibling. “You always did love to be a good girl.”

Nan looked down at her hands where they were folded neatly in her lap, withstanding the wave of memory. She had not forgotten all their sisterly bickering when they were girls, but she had forgotten that this was ever the chief complaint. She hadn’t understood her sister’s resentment then, and she didn’t understand it now. Why should she not want to be good?

“And you loved to take all the butter, and then pretend I ate your share.”

For the barest instant it was like they were children again – she saw the angry denial rising up in Bea’s face, and felt her own protest forming. But then Bea’s face softened and her mouth quirked up. In a blink it was gone and they were grown again, looking back on that life together.

“It was rare enough there was butter to fight over, nor even bread to put it on. It’s no wonder you’re a little thing, and all bones.”

“Not for lack of eating.” Nan smiled. “Lady Gwenllian, she says I’ll never eat enough to make up for the years my belly was empty, but I may as well try.”