She walked away from the image to stand by the window. There was a swoop of wings and an owl hooted close by but it was too dark to see anything more. As she stared, the emptiness seeped in behind her eyes and spread with a terrible keening ache. She turned away from the dark and clambered onto the bed, high and plumped with a tapestry coverlet, and reached up to briefly touch the Virgin before creeping under the covers without bothering with her victuals or ablutions.

*

When the dawn finally came, Luna sat up with relief, for she’d lain awake in the unfamiliar bed through the darkness of a night she felt would never end. So it was she descended as early as the first cock’s crow. She listened for the sound of voices as she slowly walked the corridor in the hope of hearing only silence, but the master of the house was already sitting in a chair by the monumental fireplace in the main hall. Luna greeted him and took the chair opposite.

He raised his eyebrows when he saw her. ‘A fellow early riser! I hope you slept well?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ She tried to sound refreshed but her voice was ragged and he frowned.

‘Faith, you cannot hide the tiredness; I could never settle in another’s home as well as my own. You will be restored in a few days.’

‘I have no home, so that is no longer a problem for me.’

He grunted in response, then stood and, to Luna’s surprise, came to where she sat and dropped to his knees before her. She shuffled back with as polite a smile as she could manage but he was so close she felt unbearably self-conscious.

‘You have suffered enormous loss.’

She could not meet his gaze and dropped her eyes; these country folk were flushed with emotion.

‘I would gladly offer you a home here, if it suits you?’

‘You would take in a crippled orphan?’ The words slipped out.

He peered at her intently and Luna sat up a little straighter. She had no need of his pity.

He pressed his lips together. ‘I see you are a plain speaker, just like your father. There will be no judgement here, only help, if you choose it.’

‘That is certainly a relief to hear, sire.’ Luna raised her chin. ‘But I will not burden you long as I travel on to the Convent of San Matteo, where I will take my vows as a sister of St Clare.’

He nodded then and rose unsteadily on knees that cracked with age. The effort made him hiss. ‘So I am told by Friar Bartolomeo in the letter which accompanied your arrival.’ He paused and rested both hands against her chair. ‘Do not rush to the convent; stay with us a while. I would be honoured to have Vincenzio’s daughter join my household.’