Frederick and a man with a crooked nose take hold of a small rope running up the tentpole. Together, they pull on it. Just the two of them. As they do, up goes the roof canvas, drawn by smaller ropes. There’s no reason in it. Only two men are pulling, but the enormous, heavy canvas is going up all around them. A porter and two boys stop to watch, as struck by it all as I am. The porter calls out to ask how they’ve done it. Frederick calls between heaves, ‘Pulleys!’ As if that answers anything.

The porter’s question brings the tent raisers’ attention my way. Their looks don’t linger, but I feel the men mark me. After that, like nervous horses, they glance towards me every now and then to see if I’m still there.

Paul, Frederick, and the other men continue to raise tentpoles and canvas. As they go along, the crooked-nosed man uses a measuring string to show the others where to stake down the ropes and plant other poles. Before I know it, the sun’s high in the sky, and an entire canvas chamber has been conjured in the field before me.

Some of the men pause to drink some small beer. Crooked Nose steals a look at me, then says low to the others, ‘Why’s she still about?’ He picks up a fist-sized stone, and glances around. Some of the others pick up stones too. Their meaning’s plain. I look over the men threatening to stone me. Paul’s among them.

Right at this moment I take a decision. Once I’ve sorted out this mess, I will cast Paul from my home. He’s not company. He doesn’t deserve sanctuary. Brida and the others can stay, but he’s no longer welcome.

I go on my way. Farther into the field, I see that the large tents are all getting joined together like the wings of a great manor house. There’s small tents too, that seem to grow off the larger ones. I don’t know what the small tents are for.

I pass Jane and several others painting the canvas wall of the largest tent. They’re making a great picture together. They’ve already finished some trees heavy with fruit and a grassy meadow. I remember the painting I saw her doing in my house. Was it for the revels? Now Jane is doing a deer with a fawn. She’s skilled at it. Her deer doesn’t look like a goat at all.