He tells her why she is here. After the servant made his report, the first guard was questioned and finally revealed what had happened. Yes, it was her, that kitchen wench, who broke his wrist. And he’d no sooner confessed than his three friends came forward, showing where they had been thrashed by her skillet. But Sir Robert says to her, “I don’t believe a word of it. I think the servant who told me about you is lying. They are all lying. It is impossible. You are a nobody, a woman. But what are they lying for? And to what end? That is what I want to know.”

“You can believe what you like,” she replies.

He ignores her and continues to talk while pacing the room. Charges must be brought against the beggar boy who stole from the kitchens. He will be fined, and if he cannot pay the fine, which is likely, then he will be whipped, his hand chopped off, or both. Sir Robert taps his chin thoughtfully. “Which would you prefer if you were in his place?” he asks.

“He is no thief,” she replies, stepping forward. She thinks of the work she still has to do and all these years later her time wasted by the same well-dressed idiot in fine boots. God knows why their paths have crossed again. Her temper rises. “I gave him the food.”

“Then you are a thief, too,” he says, “for that was not your food to give.”

A pause. She sees a change in his face.

He chuckles at her, grinning, and his grin is exuberant, that of a father holding for the first time his bawling male heir or a newly married bridegroom about to lie with his young wife. At any moment, he may actually begin to hug himself. He crosses the room to stand beside the windows that overlook the training grounds, but she thinks he has moved there only because he knows the light will show him off to better effect.

“I shall see if my guards and the servant are lying to me,” he says. “And if you are, then I promise I will make fools of all of you. Also, it has been a dull few days. This will make for a fine afternoon’s entertainment.” He crosses his arms, stands at full height. He is a betting man. “Let us make this interesting. If you can do what I ask and prove that my men have not lied to me, I will drop the charges, against both you and the boy. You have my word.”

She can tell he believes he will win. This, Joan thinks, is the problem with having a short memory. He has forgotten that she has bested him before. What is to say she won’t do it again? But this time, if she wins, she will make sure he remembers it. “What must I do?” she asks.