'Catherine and the manor-house!' he said, his laughter spilling out. 'And the rest of your nights with Catherine's fat body bouncing up and down on you and poking in her fingers where you want a cock!'

He exploded into laughter, unstoppable, genuine guffaws, ignoring Alys sitting frozen at the table. Then he broke off and mopped his eyes. 'What a haven, my little one!' he said. 'But you could do worse. You were born for a meaner estate than that, after all. It's a triumph for you, in its way. I'll settle some land on you as I promised, and Catherine shall have a fine enough manor. It is better than nothing, Alys; and you were born to nothing.'

Alys sat in silence, her eyes on the table, her cold hands clasped across her belly.

'Now to work,' Lord Hugh said briskly. 'We're holding a sheriff's court this afternoon in the great hall. I want to see the cases which are coming up before me. And these letters have come from the King's council. An armful of new instructions – pursuit of heretics, witchcraft, papists. Treatment of paupers, upkeep of roads, bridges. Numbers of big horses each tenant must keep, numbers of sheep on lands. Training of young men as archers, banning of the crossbow. Control of enclosures, Lord knows what else.' He dumped an armful of papers before Alys on the table. 'Sort them into two piles,' he said. 'The ones that require an answer at once, that we have to deal with today. And those that can wait. I'll read the cases which will come before me this afternoon.'

Alys bent her head over the papers, smoothed out their creases, stacked them on one pile or another. She was not plotting, nor scheming how to turn the plans for the marriage to her advantage. She felt as if she had lost her ability to turn anything to advantage. She was up against the power and authority of men. There was no chance of anything but defeat.

Alys worked until dinner. Lord Hugh trusted her to draft his replies to routine letters and then read them back to him for his scrawled signature and the stamp of his seal. However, some things he kept to himself. There were letters from London which came in a packet of linen with the seams stitched and sealed. He cut it open, sitting in his chair by the fireside, and burned each of the secret pages after he had read it.

At noon David came to the chamber. 'Dinner is ready, my lord,' he said.

Lord Hugh started up from his thoughts and stretched his arm out to Alys. 'Come away, Alys,' he said kindly. 'Come down to dinner with me. This is weary work for you, are you sure you are not too tired?'

Alys rose from the table and followed him from the room. She saw David's acute glance at the whiteness of her face and the slope of her shoulders.

'Does it fare merrily with you, Alys?' he asked. 'Merrily, merrily?'

She looked at him without bothering to conceal her dislike. 'I thank you for your wishes,' she said. 'I hope they come back to you threefold.'

The dwarf scowled. He clenched his hand into the fist with thumb between second and third fingers, the old protection against witchcraft, crossed himself with the fist, and kissed his thumb.

Alys laughed in his glowering face. 'Mind Father Stephen does not see you,' she said. 'He would accuse you of popish practices!'

The dwarf muttered something behind her as Alys, with her head high, followed the old lord down the stairs and into the great hall.

Hugo and Stephen were placed either side of Lord Hugh, Stephen on his right in honour of his return to the castle and to mark the old lord's favour. And the power of the new Church, Alys thought sourly. Alys was seated on the other side of Stephen.

She said nothing while the servers brought the silver ewers and bowls and Lord Hugh and then all of them washed their hands and dried them on the napkins. David watched over the pouring of the wine and then the pottage was served.

'Are you well, Mistress Alys?' Stephen asked her courteously.

'I thank you, yes,' Alys replied. 'A little weary. My lord has made me work hard this morning. He had to reply to the King's letters and we have the sheriff's court here this afternoon.'

'Hugo and I have added to the burdens of the court,' Stephen said. 'We took up a witch today.'

The tables nearest to the high table fell silent, the diners strained forward to listen. Most people crossed themselves. Alys felt her throat tighten.

'My lord!' she exclaimed. She glanced down the table at Hugo. 'God keep you both safe and well!'

'That is my prayer,' Stephen said. 'And it is my duty to preserve myself and my bishop's diocese from these evil creatures.' He glanced around him and raised his voice so that they could all hear him. 'There is no defence against witchcraft except fasting, penitence and prayer,' he said. 'No subscribing to another witch to protect you. That way you fall deeper and deeper into the hands of the one who is their master, who stalks this earth seeking for souls. The True Church of England will protect you by seeking out all witches and destroying them, root and branch, even down to the smallest, least twig.' There was silence. Stephen was impressive. 'Yes,' Alys said. 'We must all be glad of your vigilance.'

He turned his head to her. 'I have not forgotten the injustice of your ordeal,' he said softly so that no one else could hear. 'I carry it with me in my heart, to remind me to avoid popish practices like the ordeal and to keep my own conscience in these matters. I never use the ordeal in my work. I question – question with sight of the rack, and then with torture only where necessary – but I never test a witch with an ordeal any more. I made a mistake that day in giving way to Lord Hugh and Lady Catherine. I have never made that mistake again.'

'But you torture?' Alys asked. Her voice trembled slightly. She sipped her wine.

'Only as it is ordered, for those suspected of felonies,' Stephen replied gently. 'The law is strict in this matter. First comes questioning, then showing the rack to the prisoner and questioning again, and then, and only then, is questioning under torture allowed. When I know I am doing God's work in this godless world, and obeying the law in this lawless world, I can do my duty without anger or malice; or fear that I am doing wrong through my own blindness.'

Alys stretched her hand to her wine again. She saw it was shaking. She hid both her hands in her lap, out of sight under the damask tablecloth.

'And who is this witch you took up today?' she asked.

'The old woman you accused,' Stephen said. 'The old woman who lives by the river on the moor. We were riding out that way hunting and we met with the soldiers who were taking her over the border to Westmorland -as you desired.'

'There must be some mistake,' Alys said breathlessly. 'I never accused her of being a witch. She frightened me. She came on me alone in the wood. She called me by another name. But she was a harmless old woman. No witch.' Alys could hardly speak over the noise of her pulse in her head. She had no breath for anything more than short sentences.

Stephen shook his head. 'When we stopped to see that they handled her gently – soldiers like a game, you know – she asked who we were and when we told her Hugo's name, she cursed him.' 'She would not!' Alys exclaimed. Stephen nodded. 'She named him as the destroyer of the nunnery and of the holy places. She said that he would die without an heir because he had done blasphemy and sacrilege and that the vengeance of her god was upon him. She called on him to repent before more women voided the devil's slime, which is all that he can father. And she begged him to release a woman named Ann. That was the last thing she said – let her go!'

'This is awful,' Alys said. 'But just the ravings of a mad woman.'