‘Coins in the basin,’ calls Frederick from the fireside. ‘For the feed pot. We take no profit from it.’ His eyes walk past me. ‘Our benefactress has returned!’

I thought I had made myself mistress of my own house, but now I see they’ve been creeping up on me. They’re like the slow rot that overtakes roof thatch. I’m on top of it, you think each day. Not so bad, you tell yourself. Until the one day you wake in a pile of rotten thatch and nothing over your head but white sky. If my mother were here she’d chase them all out, but first I need something from them.

I go direct to the hearth, where there’s a bed of grey ash. Jane scoots out of the way, taking a platter of oysters with her. I kneel and draw the letters I remember from the tapestry in the ash. Jane’s children dart forward to see what I’m doing. Jane gives the older boy a hard slap across the hand that makes him howl.

‘What is it?’ asks Frederick, gathering the boy into his arms and nuzzling his belly until giggles take over. Frederick looks at the ashes and shakes his head. ‘Don’t know that one.’

One of the shadows speaks up hesitantly. ‘You talking to a sin eater? That’s bad truck.’

‘I’m talking to the room at large,’ Frederick says. ‘A soliloquy, not a dialogue. If she overhears, so be it.’

The first shadow looks at Frederick doubtfully. ‘Lot of words there.’

‘What’s her catch?’ asks the second shadow, taking an eyeful of the room but nodding towards me. ‘She’s not a rogue, is she? I’m not paying duties to angle in these parts.’

‘She has her mysteries,’ says Paul from the hearth. ‘’Tis the price of sanctuary.’

‘Is it sanctuary?’ says the first shadow. ‘The door was marked so, but I’ve never been at sanctuary like this. It smells of death and it’s got a sin eater and a leper.’ He glances at Brida, who eyes him back. ‘What’s next? Egypsies and Eucharistians up there?’ He looks up the ladder.

‘You are free to leave!’ says Paul, hard.

The first shadow shifts, taking the measure of Paul. Paul is young and strong, despite his scars. The shadows have had many a lean year.

The first shadow raises his hands for peace. ‘We’re just here a short time. Do our business while the Queen’s revels are on, then be on our way.’ He pokes his thumb back to his staff. I see the hole that his hand had covered around its top. That’s where he puts a hook for angling. Anglers look for unshuttered windows and hook out linen and clothes to sell. It’s a not very clever or dangerous sort of dodge, usually done by folk who’re not very clever or dangerous.