Another trumpet sounds. Long Hair waves his hands wildly for me to go. Frederick calls again from the stage, ‘My love, why do you tarry?’ Before I can breathe, Long Hair darts round the panel again, back to the play.

I need to get away. At the far side of the stage is the actor pulling the panel ropes. Beyond him are the musicians. And beyond them, thank the Maker, I spy a groom walking with an empty dish. The small tent for plating up food is not far, and from there I can escape into the field.

I creep to the edge of the scenery panel. But then I stop. There’s still five paces between me and the actor pulling the panel ropes. Five paces of open stage where I’ll be seen by everyfolk in the audience.

There’s nothing for it. I snatch up the clothes Long Hair left on the ground and put them on. They’re too large, which is a fine thing, because my face gets shadowed by the large coif. As I’m dressing, I spy a club like constables carry at night tucked behind the scenery to be used in the play. My ankle can hardly bear my weight, so I take it as a cane. I can hear Frederick and Long Hair exchanging oaths of love before the audience. With luck, folk will be so gripped by their playacting that they won’t pay me any mind as I cross behind them on the stage. I say a silent prayer and limp into the light.

Just as I step out from behind the panel, Long Hair dashes round it for another quick exit. We smack direct into each other, falling in a heap. If I hoped to avoid notice, I failed utterly. All eyes in the entire tent whip to me. I’ve been starved of folk’s gaze for months, and now there are more faces turned on me than I’ve seen in all my life. I cannot breathe. I cannot move. I’m startled still.

‘My love . . . what’s this?!’ comes Frederick’s voice.

Long Hair’s pulling himself up. There’s a trickle of blood coming from his nose where my head must have struck him.

‘Oh, my love, you have been injured by this . . . unexpected arrival.’ Frederick’s talking loud, like he’s still playacting for the audience.

Long Hair presses his hand to his nose. ‘Who is this creature who has happened upon our lovers’ tryst?’ he says back, also for the crowd.

Frederick peers at me from above. ‘It appears to be – oh, Maker mine,’ he utters this last bit under his breath. He recognizes me.

‘Is she insensible?’ asks Long Hair urgently.

‘Merely stunned, I believe,’ answers Frederick. He leans down and wraps my shawl around my neck. He’s hiding my collar.

‘Who is it, and why has she come upon us so unexpectedly?!’ presses Long Hair.