‘What’s happened?’ Marion asked, shifting a foot to a warmer spot.

‘A side o’ bacon fell down from the beam.’

‘Into the fire?’

‘No. No one heard it fall, or saw it. Must have fallen on some straw and the dogs got it. M’Dame found that bitch of hers and her pups at it. Mangled it was, not much left. Dogs were sick after too, but she’d turned them out of the Hall before that.’

Marion groaned at the loss and asked how it had happened.

‘Don’t know. A bit of rope was still round the foreleg, could’ve been a spark on the rope burnt through slowly. Leather would’ve burnt too. Ed-me-boy’s been sent down to the orchard to get the long ladder to go up and see if all the other sides are hanging firm.’

‘Iron chain’s the only safe thing,’ said Marion.

‘Iron chains? How’d we get enough iron chains for all that load of meat? It’s a terrible loss and all that work that went into the making of it, and all the salt too – it was one of the biggest sides. Still, when it’s gone, it’s gone. No need to blame me and Joan that it fell down, screeching like that, and it’s her hellhounds that ate it … ’

Milly’s voice faded away as Dame Margaret and Tom came out of the Hall towards them. Marion noticed how Dame Margaret’s gown, still the old grey one – she had not yet made up the rich red fabric from Rutherford – hung out in front. Poor woman, she thought, with all those previous dead babies to think of.

Having greeted Dame Margaret politely, as village habit demanded, Marion turned to Tom and pointed to the mended pannier.

‘So there’s nothing now to stop your Ed taking the two back to Rutherford,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a bit of spun wool to go, but not much – been so busy.’

‘Would be as well to wait till we’ve collected a lot,’ said Tom, looking at Dame Margaret, hoping for agreement, but Marion knew he was trying anything to postpone Ed-me-boy’s journey there. Dame Margaret was no help.

‘No, Tom,’ she said, ‘the sooner the better, before winter comes. He can take what wool is ready. They’ve had more than enough already for the salt they let us have, and we won’t get more salt this year however much wool we send. Ed can load up the baskets and lead Heart-of-Oak all the way there, and ride him back next day. I’ll ask Sir Hugh when he can best spare the horse.’ She went back indoors and Tom had to face another absence of Ed-me-boy, and, even worse, this time Ed-me-boy would do the journeys on his own.

Tom could not understand why Ed-me-boy was so eager to do this long journey again. Tom himself had always been content to stay in the village. What Ed had not told his father was that when he was in Rutherford in August, he had seen and talked with Annie, the nearby miller’s daughter, who had a face like a hedge rose and eyes the like of which Ed had never even imagined, and now, to Ed, all eyes else were as dull as dead embers.