He accompanied her to the stalls, where he was utterly useless and she, she was ruthless. She bartered with every trader over the price of vegetables, honey, and sewing thread.

‘If I ever need to buy a horse,’ he said, in the calm between stalls, ‘remind me to let you do it.’

‘If you ever have the means to buy a horse, I’ll certainly oblige.’

Before he could reply she turned to engage a harassed-looking woman over a tray of candles. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to take the candle from her hand. Not sure what he was looking for he turned it over, this ordinary-looking candle of dull yellow wax.

Both women were staring at him.

‘Fine work,’ Alexsander managed to say. They returned to their haggling.

He wandered among the small crowd of the market, pleased that his reputation had not yet grown enough to put people off their necessities, as it had their ale. He stopped to admire some hand-worked goods: exceptional craftsmanship of household items all carved in wood and finely polished. The stall displayed smaller goods in the front, with larger items such as bookcases and wardrobes behind. He found himself enchanted by the simple but pleasing designs.

‘Do you make instruments?’ Alexsander asked.

The small man running the stall shook his head. ‘Nothing so fine as that.’

‘You are too modest. These are exquisite.’ Alexsander picked up an intricately carved wooden chain, made of interlocking pieces, which had a spoon on each end. ‘I’ve never seen the like. What is it?’

A small cough made him turn around. Rebecca was shaking her head.

‘It’s a wedding spoon,’ the craftsman said, with a knowing grin.

Alexsander gave a cry and almost dropped the spoon, only just catching it before it hit the stone cobbles. He quickly replaced it on the stall and backed away, brushing his hands on his coat as if he’d touched something infectious.

‘Don’t worry,’ Rebecca said, ‘I’ll make sure you get a good price.’

‘That’s quite al—’

‘Sebastien,’ she said to the stall-holder, ‘my friend here is a poor, penniless musician. But as you can see he is not a man devoid of good taste.’

‘He’s the inspector’s day-brother.’

‘A thankless role,’ Rebecca said. ‘Maybe one day he’ll find the peace and sanctuary of a good marriage.’

Sebastien regarded Alexsander carefully, then named a price for the spoon.

Rebecca set to work. Alexsander found the whole thing rather excruciating, but he couldn’t leave. After an insufferable few minutes, a price was agreed that was almost half of the original figure. Alexsander handed over the coins as much to be away from the situation as anything else – his cheeks could not stand such a burning much longer. He was relieved to find the spoon was well wrapped so as to be hidden.

As they walked away from the stall, Rebecca slipped her arm through his.

‘You are nothing but mischief,’ he said. ‘What am I going to do with a wedding spoon?’