‘Yes,’ says Lisbet, disapproval weighting her voice. ‘They are rough with them.’

‘They need to tire them,’ says Plater. ‘They are bringing musicians too.’

‘All this I know,’ says Lisbet.

‘You have not let me reach my point.’ He pauses, as though daring Lisbet to speak again. When he is satisfied she will not, he continues. ‘You will accommodate the Church’s musicians. One, perhaps two.’ He holds up a hand to stifle her words before they can leave her mouth. ‘You are not unique in this. All those with debts hereabouts must give up their spare space.’

‘We have none.’

‘Of course you do, with your husband away.’ He crosses his arms, tilts his head appraisingly. ‘Surely you will be glad of the company, three women alone and no man to protect them.’

‘We need no protection.’

Plater clucks his tongue as though admonishing a dog. ‘Come, Frau Wiler, you know these are dangerous times. The city emptied of sinners, where will they go?’ He glances past the skeps, at the forest, and Lisbet cannot help but follow his gaze. The trees melt to black. ‘It will help with your standing before the Church, the council.’

‘We need no help,’ snaps Lisbet. ‘We are churchgoers, almsgivers.’

‘But your bees feed from the monastery’s wildflowers, and yet you will not pay your portion of profit to them.’

Lisbet’s insides churn and fret. ‘That is a matter for the court at Heidelberg.’

‘Do not forget,’ says Plater, ‘under whose Heaven those courts run. The musicians will be here tomorrow.’

‘Have we no choice?’

Plater is already walking towards his horse, his rough hands in his silk pockets. Fluh whimpers and leaps from his path.

Lisbet braces herself, and returns indoors. Sophey is at the table, her head in her gnarled hands.

‘This heat,’ she murmurs. ‘When will it end?’

Lisbet waits until Sophey smooths back her hair, wipes the sweat from her temples. Her mother-in-law fixes her with her black eyes, the hollows beneath them large as knuckles.

‘Plater was here.’

‘Now?’ Sophey rises, her knees clicking, murder in her eyes.

‘He’s gone,’ says Lisbet. ‘But he brought a message.’

‘More from Heidelberg?’

‘From the city, from the Twenty-One and the Church.’

‘One and the same,’ grunts Sophey. She is of the view that the clergy are too much concerned with the council. That there must be more separation in order for priests to be pure. ‘What more do they want with us?’

Lisbet explains about their plans, about the exodus from the city, the stages and the musicians. Sophey winces.

‘You should have called me.’

‘He would not be dissuaded.’

‘We’ll see,’ she says. ‘I’ll to the city now. Have you wax ready?’

‘In the pressing shed. Where is Nethe?’

‘Agnethe is praying, not to be disturbed.’

When Sophey is gone, Lisbet takes the wrapped edge of honeycomb from her pocket and knocks on Nethe’s door.

‘Nethe?’

She presses her ear to the wood, can hear murmurs.

‘I brought you something.’