But Agnethe looses her hand, and picks up the reins. With a soft cluck of her tongue, they are moving out of the cooling shadows and into the glare. The harsh brightness reveals the bones of Agnethe’s cheeks and brow, just like her mother’s. It is ridiculous to be cowed by the structure of Agnethe’s face, but Lisbet is, and she does not ask more. Her vision of leading Agnethe to the dance tree flickers and dies.

•

‘Three days? You are certain?’ Sophey’s hard face has taken on a blade-like intensity. ‘Why?’

Lisbet shrugs. She doesn’t want Sophey to see how much the dancer dismayed her. ‘A madwoman.’ Even the word sticks in her throat like a bone.

‘But the Twenty-One’s men were there?’

‘Plater,’ clarifies Lisbet.

Sophey crosses herself. ‘He is everywhere. Did Henne see?’

Lisbet hesitates, but Agnethe saves her from the lie. ‘He left as soon as he’d prayed.’

‘Good,’ says Sophey. ‘He does not need such a sight to cloud his mind.’

‘Do you think they will punish her for something so simple as dancing?’ says Agnethe.

‘They are right to do whatever restores calm,’ says Sophey. ‘We can ill afford a further slide into disorder.’

‘She harms no one,’ says Agnethe.

‘She makes a spectacle,’ snaps Sophey, slicing her hand through the air. ‘You have been sheltered, on your mountain. There have been famines, droughts, revolts. Priests murdered at prayer. The whole city is tipping, and Geiler said—’

‘Geiler is long dead,’ says Agnethe, and Sophey glares.

‘And yet he knew where we were going. He said we must guard our minds as well as our souls. The Twenty-One are right to rid the square of her.’

‘It is not certain she is damned,’ says Lisbet, glancing between them. ‘Some spoke as though she may be blessed.’

‘The priests will decide,’ says Sophey, seeming to regain some mastery over herself. ‘It will be at an end soon enough.’

‘At the abbey,’ says Agnethe, ‘when one started a mania, others often followed.’

Sophey spits. ‘Do not speak of such things. Of madness as infection. We are not all so weak-minded as you, Agnethe.’

‘You call me weak, when I have borne all that has been done to me?’

Sophey crosses to Agnethe and pinches her beneath the arm.

‘Stop,’ she mouths. The women spin away from each other, Agnethe rising just slow enough for Lisbet to catch the furrow of anger across her brow before she goes outside, pushing aside the panting dogs.

Lisbet does not want to be alone with Sophey. She points at the grey water bucket. ‘I’ll change that.’

Without waiting for assent Lisbet lifts it as swift as her belly will allow, slopping a little on the floor. She tosses the dirty cloth back onto the scrubbed table and Sophey hisses but Lisbet doesn’t break her stride, following her sister-in-law out into the delirious mid-afternoon sun.

There is no sign of Agnethe. The dogs are resting their heads on their paws, and twitch their eyebrows at her. It is so hot Fluh barely gives true venom to her growl. Lisbet pours some of the water into the trough and Ulf heaves himself up and lopes over to drink, leaning a little against her thigh. She can smell the meaty stench of his fur, knows it will get worse without Henne here to comb it out. She will have to.