“And Richard Stoney is Harvest King.”

“Are we ready?” Mr. Miller demanded as the last cart rumbled in. As the men hurried to unload it, Richard Stoney came from the stables and received a crown of plaited wheat on his brown curly head.

Mr. Miller ceremonially closed the barn doors, the young women gleaners, Jane Miller among them, and the young men reapers lined up before it, as if to block entry, and Alys and Richard went to their places on the far side of the yard with the lads catcalling and the girls singing out Alys’s name. His lordship, knowing the harvest games, waited for the young couple to stand side by side, and called to them: “Ready?”

“Aye!” Richard answered for them both.

Sir William shouted: “Go!” and the young couple dashed across the cobbled yard towards the barn doors, dodging and twisting as their friends sprang towards them, pelting them with jugs of water and handfuls of chaff, trying to prevent them entering the barn. They fought their way through, pushing and ducking, swerving and gasping. Richard grabbed Alys’s hand to pull her from a mob of boys as the adults cheered them on, until finally each of them got a hand on the great iron ring of the barn door, pulled it open, and declared that the harvest was safely home.

Everyone cheered. Alinor saw the bright looks that the young couple exchanged, and the way they immediately turned away from each other to return to their friends, Richard exuberantly bouncing towards the harvest lads, who jostled him and pulled at his straw crown, as Alys ran to the girls, flushed and giggling. Mrs. Miller served the harvest ale, first cup to Sir William, and the thirsty harvesters gathered around for their cups as Alinor turned to find James at her side.

“Your daughter is a very beautiful girl,” he observed.

“She is,” she said quietly.

They were painfully tongue-tied in company. They wanted to speak nothing but secrets; and they could not be seen to whisper. “You got home safely from your travels?” was all she could say.

“Yes,” he said awkwardly. “Yes, I did. Did you go back to the young mother? Is she well?”

“I went this afternoon, and I will go again tomorrow,” she confirmed. “I like to visit a young mother with her newborn baby, even if she has her own mother at her side.”

He was about to ask if he might come to see her at the cottage tonight, after harvest home; but he broke off. Her brother was coming down the track from the ferry to the mill yard, his old dog, Red, winding around his feet.

“I have to see you,” James said urgently. “Not here. Not in front of all these people. Alone.”

“I know, I know,” she breathed.

“Can I come tonight?” he whispered; but before she could answer Ned walked up to his sister, and acknowledged James with a brief nod.

“Good day, sir,” Ned said abruptly. “I see you came to visit the poor people of the parish. I suppose you like the old ways: Harvest Queen and Harvest King.”