As dusk crept up over the Common, Peter arrived home, tired as usual, and with the same sad story of Dame Margaret’s baby.

‘So you’ve heard?’ he said. ‘Does seem very sad and they say it was a well-made boy – just this funny colour, and they never got a whimper out of him. They say Sir Hugh will see him buried tomorrow. What’s for supper?’

So they all sat down on the log seat, with Alice standing between Peter’s knees and, spiking the slices of ducks’ liver on sharp yew twigs, they held them over the fire and then dropped the sizzling lumps on to the thin scones.

‘That’s not done yet, Peterkin. Hold it closer,’ Marion said.

‘But my hand’s burning, and I like it juicy.’

She felt too weary to argue with him.

Later, before getting into bed, Peterkin had sidled up to her, just as she was banking up the glowing logs with ash, and whispered, ‘Mam, will you really do the ducks for tomorrow?’

‘They’re already in the pot, with onions. Can’t you smell them? They’ll be in the pot all night.’

‘Are you really pleased I got those ducks, Mam?’ She was a little surprised and gave him a rare hug.

‘Yes,’ she said, with emphasis. ‘Always get wild ducks when you can, and pigeons – they are good food but smaller – rooks too, but not much to eat on a rook, but the more of them you can kill the better the corn will be. Now, into bed with you.’

But when she got into bed herself she was not comfortable. Her clothes were damp and heavy about her, so was the cover. In spite of this chill, Peter had fallen asleep almost at once. She had seen how exhausted he was when watching his hands trembling as he held his spike with liver on it over the fire. She knew this was not from cold but from hours and hours of heavy sawing of elm boards. Alice had objected to being put into the cradle – she really was getting too long for it – but she too had fallen asleep quickly.

But Marion could not sleep. The death of Dame Margaret’s baby preyed on her mind, used as she was to childbirth resulting in a dead baby. She felt very tired, very dispirited and was aware of this contrast with her mood that morning when Peterkin had brought the ducks and when she was planning rich food. Now all seemed wearisome. She wondered if this change of feelings indicated that she was about to bleed, and then realized that she had not had a bleeding period for some time, she couldn’t remember for how long. Women often did not when food was very scarce, as it usually was in the spring months, and when food was scarce it was always the women who went without first, and for longest. She knew she had often been hungry since the Christmas feasts were over, and this was probably why she had no bleeding. She remembered years ago – it was after her Margery was born – that there were two years of very poor harvests and every one had gone hungry, and that during that time most of the women had no bleedings.