She gazes up like her thoughts are strung across the ceiling. ‘Then Katryna died leaving little baby Miranda and Bethany alone with the baron. And only a few years later the baron was executed for treason. I remember the day he died. His badge, those golden wings, burned on the castle gates. Took two blows to sever his head.’

She sits for a moment, then her voice gets soft. ‘We helped Bethany, but not in the way she wanted. We swore on the Maker’s name never to reveal what we did.’

All at once, she looks direct at me. ‘I am not so thick as they all think. The secretary believes a Eucharistian is trying to dethrone our Queen, but I am sure the threat is closer to home.’ She’s got begging eyes, but I don’t know what she wants. All she’s told me is a jumble of old stories, and none that explains the deer hearts.

The Painted Pig clutches at her hands. ‘The truth should have died fifteen years ago. It was Corliss’s folly. She wove the secret into a tapestry so one day Queen Bethany would know what we did. And now its meaning has been discovered, but not by the Queen. By whom, I don’t know. All I know is this: we’re being murdered so the crime will be revealed to the world on our coffins. But we didn’t kill a babe. Not Corliss and not Tilly and not me.’ She sinks back slow and loose, like a wrung-out rag.

I think she’s finished, but then she says one more thing. ‘If I die, will judgement come down upon my killer?’ She looks at me as if I have the answer. I know what the Makermen say, but that’s not what she’s asking. She’s asking me, will I bring judgement on her killer.

My lips say the words. ‘When the food is et, your sins will be mine.’ My fingers touch her shoulder to hip and back again in the Maker’s sign. And my head nods one nod.

I will find your killer.

She seems to breathe easier. But it’s not for her I’ll do it. I’ll do it for Ruth.

21. GARLIC

WHEN I OPEN the door to the Painted Pig’s room, Fair Hair and Mush Face are gone. A shudder runs up my back at the sight of the Willow Tree, not two paces away. Was he listening at the door?

‘I’ve come to take the list of foods,’ he says as if to the Painted Pig, but I know it’s meant for me. I stand before him and tell him the foods, smelling the same musty smell I did when he took the list of foods after Corliss’s Recitation. I wonder that he doesn’t let a steward or maid bring the list to the kitchen clerk.