She says nothing. Of course there are hoof prints, she thinks. It is a bridge. Then she sees what he means. There are a lot of hoof prints, all left at the same time, and all going in one direction, northeast.

‘Can they be Tudor’s scurriers?’ she asks.

‘Could be,’ Thomas says, but there is doubt in his voice.

‘Or?’ she asks.

He gets back in the saddle and turns to her without a word.

‘It cannot be Riven and his giant,’ she says, but she knows it can.

‘They must know we crossed the hills,’ he says at length. ‘They must suppose we are trying to get back to Marton Hall.’

‘Perhaps we should avoid the road?’ Katherine suggests half-heartedly. She looks up at the hills ranged around in a ring, grey with snow, wreathed in cloud. She is not well enough for any more nights in the open; they both know it.

‘No,’ Thomas says. ‘The innkeeper says there is an inn the drovers use. We must make for that tonight.’

They continue on, following the tracks of the riding party until evening starts to fall, and then, after another league, they come to the inn, a yellow light in the gloom, holding out all sorts of promises. It is a thatched hall built on the squint and set back off the road among fields thick with bleating sheep. Even before they’ve dismounted they can smell meat cooking, and Katherine can think of nothing else, but as they approach they hear the sound of men and ale-fuelled conversation.

‘We cannot stay here,’ Thomas whispers.

Disappointment settles on her like wet clothing. No, worse than that. It actually hurts. What little strength she has ebbs away, and soon she is shivering and sweating. She is not yet well. They ride on.

‘Is it warmer as a man or woman?’ he asks.

‘Neither,’ she says.

He laughs.

Mist is boiling up from the river beside them, overflowing on to the flood plain, dank and penetrative, and they are pleased when the road turns away and heads up a gentle hill. Over its crest they find what they are looking for: a single cottage with smoke seeping through the eaves. A man appears from the gloom carrying a froe and a dead fish. He drops the fish when he sees Thomas, and swings the froe in both hands. He puts the tool aside when he sees Katherine, reassured by the presence of a woman.