‘Bring me my harness, will you, Kit?’

Katherine stiffens. She finds being with Richard unsettling. Geoffrey shows her where his armour is kept, wrapped in oiled cloth against rust. Bag by bag she carries it up to the room on the second floor and when she brings the last one, she finds him wearing only his hose and a linen shirt. She has seen all the other men naked, including Thomas, but she has always avoided looking at Richard while he is washing or changing his shirt. She is wary of looking, wary of the feelings he provokes.

She looks away now. Then back again. He is broad-shouldered, narrow-waisted and long-legged and there is something about him and the way he moves that catches her mid-stride. She gathers herself and waits, averting her eyes, confused by the sudden warmth.

‘Come,’ he says impatiently. ‘Help me with this.’

He is crouched over one of the bags, trying to make sense of the intricate jumble of steel pieces, laying out the larger parts on the planks next to him. When they are all organised he stands and picks up a padded doublet, patched at the armpits, elbows and groin with links of chain.

Starting from the sabatons, the interlocking strips that cover his feet, he instructs Katherine how to attach each piece of his harness, carefully naming each part as they go so that she will in future know the difference between a pauldron – the piece of plate that protects the shoulder – and a gorget, the collar of steel that covers the throat. It is a complex business, involving the delicate interplay of many pieces of overlapping steel, each one fastened with leather straps.

As she moves about him, Katherine can feel his breath on her cheek and smell his body, but still she does not look him in the eye. Her head seems to throb as she puts her arms around his chest. At last she straps the sword belt about his hips and then helps him with his armet, the close fitting helmet with a visor that comes down to meet the gorget.

She steps back and watches him moving around the room, reacquainting himself with the feel and weight of the armour. It is unnerving. He looks like a different order of creature entirely, and as he moves the metal slithers and scrapes and jangles.

After a moment he lifts up his visor with the knuckles of his glove.

‘Now go and fetch Thomas, will you, Kit? And tell him to bring that pollaxe of his.’