‘I thought he was made of stronger stuff.’

‘Apparently not, Uncle.’

‘What’s happened to your ear?’

‘A little nick, Uncle, nothing to speak of, well, I must go on, glad I could be of help.’

‘Yes, thank you, Clod. Sure I can’t do anything about that ear?’

‘No, thank you, Uncle, no need.’

I was around the Hall, stepping over Iremongers, nodding at relations; there she was in her spoilt uniform, her hands shaking, Lucy finishing wrapping a smashed leg. I pulled her up.

‘Iremonger,’ I said, ‘I need you. You’re to come with me.’

‘She’s working here,’ said the matron, calling over, ‘attending to the sick.’

‘Don’t argue with me, matron, I’m in trousers now and not to be spoken to.’

‘You might be in ermine for all I care, Master Clodius, I need her help.’

‘You have no authority over me.’

‘Over you, no, over her, yes.’

‘She’s coming with me.’

‘She stays here.’

‘Do you argue with a full-blood?’

‘I argue with the circumstances, with medical emergency. That’s my beef.’

I had hold of Lucy by the right hand, the matron, up now and with us, held her by the left. Lucy stood in terror in the middle.

‘Let her go!’ I said.

‘I shall not,’ called the matron.

‘She’s coming with me.’

‘She stays in this room until I’m done with her.’

‘Listen, matron, be sensible, I must have a word with you.’

‘I thought we were doing that already. You’ve got everyone’s attention.’

Indeed now so many people were looking up at us, wondering at our argument, no doubt at why a true Iremonger should be making such a fuss over a servant. In the distance Idwid was beginning to stir upon the dining room table.

‘Listen, matron,’ I said, quiet now, so that only she and I and Lucy might hear, those Iremongers all about us watching the swinging chandelier again, ‘please to listen. Do you know who this filthy creature is?’

‘Some skivvy, what does it matter?’

‘Please, matron, I want you to stay calm. I want you to take a deep breath. Now listen carefully. This ugly wraith is something more than you suppose. Consider now who she might be. Her hair beneath this filthy bonnet is russet. There is a clue in that. Take a look at her, do but properly observe her muddied phiz, and you shall see soon enough what I’m talking about.’

The matron dumbly looked, but saw – for her face betrayed her mind entirely – nothing in particular.

‘I did not wish to say it,’ I continued, ‘for fear of causing great alarm. I did not wish to tell you for fear of upsetting you, now I see that I must.’

‘Well then, you must,’ she said, ‘go on do.’

Lucy was all the while staring at me, most perplexed.