‘And so have we all. And for some the war lasted longer than their lifetimes. How many Englishmen d’you think have died to persuade the king that we want to be governed by Englishmen and pray to God and not to bishops?’

John shook his head.

‘Thousands,’ the man said glumly. ‘Hundreds of thousands. How many more died of plague and hardship because of this damned struggle?’

John shook his head again.

‘Thousands more. And how many families d’you think have lost a son or a brother or a father?’

John shook his head in silence.

‘Every single family in the land,’ the carter said solemnly. ‘This has been a wicked, wicked war, a war without an enemy because we were fighting and killing ourselves.’

Hester was in the stable yard, tossing hay over the door to the horse, when she heard the rumble of the wheels and saw the cart rock as it rounded the corner into the yard. For a moment she saw only the barrels at the back and thought that John had sent some goods ahead, and then she dropped the pitchfork with a clatter on the cobbles as she recognised the man who got down from the carter’s seat and turned to face her.

He looked older than she remembered, and weary. The bear-grease stain had faded from his skin but he was still deeply tanned from the hard sun and wind. He had lost a couple of teeth during his time of near-starvation, and he had grown a brown moustache and beard which were flecked with grey. His eyes were sad, an unmistakable sadness which made Hester want to hold him and comfort him without even asking what had grieved him so. He looked as if he had lost something very dear to him and Hester wondered what blade in the new world had cut him so deep.

‘John?’ she said quietly.

He stepped forwards a little. ‘Hester?’

She realised that she was wearing her oldest working clothes, men’s thick boots and a brown scarf over her hair which was pinned carelessly on the back of her head. She could not have looked more functional if she had tried. She whisked her scarf off her head and tried not to seem embarrassed. She had always tried to be above vanity, especially with this man who had married his first wife for love and lost her while she was still in her youth and beauty.

Hester brushed the hay from her coat. ‘You are welcome home,’ she said.

He took two steps towards her and opened his arms to her and she went towards him and felt the intense relief of a man’s embrace after more than three years of loneliness.