‘If his nephew’s the king, he gets given positions, doesn’t he? Titles, lands, positions and that. Gets to marry his son to the richest woman in the land. If his nephew’s not the king, he gets what? A kick in the balls and a push down the stairs. That’s why he’s here.’

Put like that, it makes perfect sense.

In the ward the women are already hard at work beating laundry in the rain, marking the passing of time with the steady thud of their beetles.

‘So what now?’ Katherine asks Dwnn.

‘My John’ll send word of the landing to the Earl of March. The Earl’ll want to stop Tudor joining Somerset’s army up north, I’ll bet. Dear God. If those two get together, I shouldn’t like to be living in London right now. A load of Scotsmen, Irishmen, Frenchmen and northerners? They’ll steal everything they can’t fuck and burn the rest.’ Dwnn frowns at them. ‘You should be gone if you want to make it back to England before midsummer,’ he tells them.

‘Today?’ Walter asks.

‘Today,’ Dwnn agrees. ‘Tudor’s scurriers’ll soon be combing the countryside looking for anything they can get their hands on. We can sell you horses and food.’

‘We’d ride home?’

‘’Less you want to walk, or a ship docks, which I can’t see happening.’

Thomas and Katherine look at one another.

‘We’d best be going then,’ Walter says. Katherine nods her agreement.

‘I’ll inform Margaret,’ Dwnn says.

‘Why?’ Walter stops him.

‘She’ll want to be ready. She’ll have things to pack.’

‘You want us to take Margaret?’

Dwnn speaks quickly before they can change their minds.

‘Of course,’ he says. ‘I thought that was why you were here. And it’s best that way. She’ll come without a servant, if you don’t mind? I cannot send Goodwife Melchyn to England, not with Tudor’s men here. You’ll be able to move faster that way, at any rate.’

Katherine sighs, and the men nod in reluctant agreement. A boy is sent to alert Margaret and they return to the solar to bundle up their possessions again.

‘Do we even know a route home?’ Thomas asks Walter.

‘We’ll take a guide,’ Walter says. ‘One of the local lads.’

‘Where are Dafydd and Owen?’ Katherine asks.

‘They must be about,’ Walter mutters. ‘Probably saying their goodbyes.’

Dwnn sells them three strange-looking horses with large eyes and small heads. The best available, he says.

‘What about Owen and Dafydd?’

‘They can bring their own.’

They look them over in the outer yard while Margaret’s pony is brought from the stables, saddled with a side-saddle that does not look to have ever been used.

‘She enjoys riding,’ Dwnn says, ‘but it is her breathing. She seems to find it hard to be around horses.’

‘Will she have a coughing fit again?’ Katherine asks.