‘The tent was too warm, I came out to take some air. It’s Lady Miranda, isn’t it? Are you unwell? You were running.’

‘I am unwell, yes. And turned around. Tell me, which way is the road?’

‘The road? I’ll call somefolk to help you. There must be a linkboy about.’ The Country Mouse turns towards the main tent. ‘Hello?’ he cries. ‘Hello?!’

Quick as a fox, Miranda pulls a long, iron flesh-hook from its place near a pit fire with a gloved hand. ‘Keep quiet!’ Miranda says, jabbing the hook at the Country Mouse. ‘Do as I say, and take me to the road or I’ll gut you.’ Her body’s bent like she’s been cornered by dogs. Before I know it I’m running towards them.

She sees me out of the side of her eye and steps back without thinking. Good, she’s off her balance. But she’s still got the hook. Its tapered prongs glisten with meat fat as she turns on me. It’s the first time I see her fully. A forgettable face in a simple wool dress and wide sleeves. A small gold brooch her only adornment for the revels. Lady Miranda is Mush Face. The girl who went hungry in Bethany’s castle even though her mother had been a queen.

With my lame ankle, I haven’t got much hope in a fight, so I use what I’ve got. I hold the S on my collar up to catch the firelight.

But Mush Face doesn’t falter like Fair Hair did. Her breathing doesn’t even change. This should be a warning to me. She’s desperate or mad. Indeed, before I can think what to do, she jumps forward and slashes at me with the hook. My ankle rolls as I jerk out of the way. I fall hard on the ground, nearly landing in a pit fire. Wavering heat flushes my face. I roll away from the fire only to find myself looking direct at the prongs of Mush Face’s flesh-hook.

There’s a thud as the Country Mouse charges into her, knocking the hook away. She scuttles after and rises up with it clutched in her two hands like a broadsword. ‘I’ll kill you both.’

The Country Mouse is on the ground, holding his burnt arm and breathing fast. Knocking Mush Face was too much. She rushes him, raising the hook like she’s going to strike.

I scream the only words left to me, ‘Tell me your sins!’

My voice startles her to stillness, the flesh-hook still raised to strike. ‘Are you the Maker’s revenge?’ she breathes.

‘Your sins,’ I say again. I don’t have any other plan.

Mush Face keeps the hook aimed at the Country Mouse. ‘If you have followed me, then you know my sins.’

‘Recite them,’ I call.