‘Perhaps. The land came to Cornford through his wife, nothing but rough hill pasture, to hear him talk of it, and full of violent Welshmen stealing each other’s sheep and wives and confusing the two.’ Sir John laughs gently at his own joke.

‘Why did she stay down there then?’ Katherine goes on. ‘Why did he not bring her to live at Cornford?’

‘She was a sickly creature,’ Sir John says. ‘Something wrong with her chest and Cornford was supposed to be too cold for her. It is draughty, that castle, and the east wind comes straight off the sea.’

Richard tuts, disapproving of someone so soft, but Sir John goes on.

‘Cornford never got over the death of his wife,’ he says. ‘Used to dote on the girl. He was like that. It was why I liked him. He was the only one who understood why I didn’t send you off either, my boy, so before you start criticising, think on that.’

Richard raises his eyebrows but drops his gaze to his hands on the table.

‘I only met her once,’ Sir John goes on. ‘When she was about five or six, I suppose. The strangest accent you ever heard. Like Dafydd and the other boy – Owen, is it? Probably had it beaten out of her by now, of course.’

Goodwife Popham comes in with an armful of logs. She drops them on the hearth, and leaves the room again.

‘So she might still be in Wales?’ Katherine asks.

Thomas admires the way she can stick to a matter, to follow it to its heart.

‘I suppose she might,’ Sir John agrees. ‘Which would explain why Riven hasn’t found her.’

‘And she is Riven’s ward only until the Epiphany?’ Richard asks. ‘After that she may do as she wishes?’

Sir John nods. A gleam appears in his eye.

‘If my grasp of the law is correct,’ he says.

‘So do we pray he doesn’t find her before then?’ Katherine says. ‘Or is there a way we make sure he doesn’t?’

Sir John scratches his cheek. Richard is looking at her intently.

‘Ordinarily I would place my trust in God,’ Sir John starts, ‘and hope for the best, but with men like Riven perhaps it is as well to look into the matter ourselves.’

‘But how do we find her?’ Richard asks.

An idea strikes Thomas.

‘Dafydd,’ he says. ‘Dafydd used to serve Lord Cornford, didn’t he? He told me he was at Ludford Bridge when Riven killed Cornford, and for want of anything else to do, he fell in with the next company in the line, which happened to be yours.’

There is a moment of silence.

‘That’s right,’ Richard says, half smiling at the memory. ‘I remember. Couldn’t understand a word he said at first, him or his brother – still can’t really, but they can both use a bow, so.’

‘So get him in here, will you, Thomas?’