The squires dried themselves with their shirts and then put them on, lacing their sleeveless doublets carelessly and moving with all the gawky grace of the young. Haegert Coucy made as if to hide in the stable and watch the girls wash; Jamie grabbed him by the ear and twisted, they exchanged uninspired punches, and then they were off into the back.

“Mind you brush your hair,” Helewise shouted at her daughter.

Phillippa frowned and didn’t deign to answer.

Helewise went back in to her guest.

“You are too courteous for my poor hall,” Helewise said. “You and your little army have saved my harvest.”

Ser Shawn smiled grimly. “Our real army is fighting for its life in the west,” he said bitterly. “The least I can do is see the harvest in.”

She was collecting her good pewter and what little silver she had, so that she could make the harvest table a little brighter. She’d worn the mask all day, but now, without having intended it, she turned to Ser Shawn.

“Will it ever end?” she snapped. “The war?”

He made a face. “Yes,” he said firmly. It was the best thing about him, she thought; the confidence he had. “Yes. We’ll win, and we’ll rebuild.”

“Your words to God’s ear,” she said. “Any word from the east?”

“Antica Terra?” Ser Shawn asked. “Or Liviapolis?”

“I’d settle for any news at all,” she said. “Beyond the state of the crops and Mag’s sick pig.”

Ser Shawn smiled.

The bell rang for dinner, and Phillippa, transformed by a bucket of well water and a heavy hairbrush, went past like a lightning bolt, leaving a tale of perfumed soap and—

“Hey!” roared Helewise. She looked at Ser Shawn. “What was my daughter wearing?” she asked, her question purely rhetorical. Phillippa had somehow managed, in five minutes, to change into a skin-tight dark red kirtle with no shift underneath, so that her sides showed between the lacings, although by the bizarre logic of the young, she still had her reaping hook hanging from her belt like a badge of honour.

“I didn’t notice,” Ser Shawn said, although he was turning a healthy shade of pink.

“Damn it,” Helewise said, knowing that her daughter was out in the back already, secure that her mother would not make a scene in front of guests. “I will not have Haegert Coucy as a son-in-law,” she spat.

“I’ll speak to him,” Shawn said, getting slowly to his feet.