'Holloa!' he shouted towards the guardroom. 'Let us in!'

He scooped Alys into his arms and carried her into the guardroom where a frowsy-faced lad threw open the door. 'Lass tried to drown herself,' he said tersely. 'Get some hot mead for her, quickly. And a sheet to wrap her in. And another cloak.'

The lad went running. Alys, hidden in the man's cloak, retching and vomiting, fumbled with her shift and thrust the dangerous little doll into her purse with the others.

The man held her. Water poured from Alys' mouth, she wept moat water, she pissed wetness into the wet shift, and her urine was as icy as the rest.

The man thumped her hard on the back and Alys struggled for breath, caught a gulp of air and then vomited a basin of water. 'Head down,' he said.

Water gushed from Alys' nose, her hair stuck like waterweed to her icy face. Remorselessly he held her, head down, until she had stopped choking, then he lifted her upright and thrust her into the chair and chafed her hands.

The lad burst in with a steaming jug and a billowing sheet. 'Good,' the man said. 'Wait outside.' He ripped Alys' nightshift from hem to collar and rubbed her body hard with the warm sheet. Her skin was rough with gooseflesh and her feet and fingers were blue. From thigh to ankle she was bleeding sluggishly from a hundred little cuts and scratches from the rubbish in the moat. Then the man wrapped her tight in his thick cloak, sat her in the chair, and held a mug of hot mead to her mouth.

Alys twisted away. The liquid was scalding. But he held her again and forced her to drink. It went down her sore throat like liquid fire. 'Here, don't I know you?' the man asked. Alys blinked up at him. Her teeth were chattering so badly and she was shivering so hard she could hardly make him out.

'Father Stephen,' she said, when she recognized the priest. 'It's me, Alys. Lady Catherine's woman. Lord Hugh's clerk.'

'More mead,' the priest commanded. He handed her the mug and Alys wrapped her hands around it. She was shuddering with deep chilled shivers.

'Drink it,' he said. 'I insist. It'll drive out the cold. You're looking better already.' Alys nodded. 'I'm grateful you were there,' she said. He frowned. 'Why did you do it?' he asked gently. 'It's a painful death, a nasty way to go. And hell at the end of it, for sure.' Alys nearly denied it, then she caught herself. 'I was afraid,' she improvised quickly. 'After the ordeal… Lady Catherine is suspicious of me… I am afraid of another ordeal, or another. She can make what claims she wishes against me. I could not sleep in the night and then I woke full of dread. I did not know what to do.'

Her teeth chattered as if denying the lie. Alys clenched them on the mug and sipped.

He looked distraught. 'Child, I had no idea,' he said. 'I am to blame for this! I had no idea that the lady's personal vengeance against you went so deep. I would never have allowed an ordeal to satisfy mortal malice! It's a sin to use the ordeal to pay some grudge. I should have known! And to drive you to despair!' He broke off and took two swift strides down the room.

Alys pushed her hand through her hair and squeezed out some of the icy water. She watched him, trying to measure his mood and the extent of her danger.

'You must confess,' he said. 'Confess and pray for the sin of attempting to take your life. It is a mortal sin, God forbids it by name. You must wrestle with your despair and your fear. And I will also ask you to forgive me. I have been too rigorous. I have sought for wrongdoing too eagerly. It is a sin.' He thought for a moment. 'It is the sin of vanity,' he said. 'I have been proud of my record of witch-taking, of hunting heresy. Many have come before me and few have escaped justice. But I must guard against pride.'

'I am innocent,' Alys said eagerly. 'And I was afraid that Catherine would force me to another ordeal. That you would support her and question me. And that some mistake – some innocent mistake – would mean my death.'

He nodded, stricken. 'I have been at fault,' he said. 'I am glad to be a scourge to the wicked, but not to an innocent like you. You must forgive me. I will never set an ordeal for you again. You can have my word. I will protect you against malice. You have proved your innocence, once with the ordeal of bread, and once in the moat. For if you were a witch you would have floated and you were assuredly drowning when I hauled you out.'

Alys nodded, and wrapped the cloak a little tighter around her. Father Stephen caught the movement and handed her another cup of mead. 'Drink,' he said. 'And then you must go to your chamber and make sure you are warm and dry. Fear no more, you are safe from any ordeal ever again. I will never try you and no one will ever test you while I am near to protect you. You were drowning like a Christian, you are no witch.'

Alys nodded again, a small gleam of satisfaction hidden behind the mug.

'Will Lady Catherine be awake? Will she trouble you with questions when you go to your chamber?'

Alys glanced at the slit window of the guardroom. It was grey with the winter dawn. 'She may,' she said. 'She is suspicious of all her women. I have more freedom than the others because I serve the old lord. But she watches us close, and she fears all of us.'

Father Stephen nodded. 'She has much to fear, poor lady,' he said. 'Hugo does not always use her kindly and the old lord is weary of her complaints. He has asked me to speak to my bishop about having her set aside and the marriage annulled.'

Alys felt her interest quicken. 'Can your bishop decide?' she asked.

Father Stephen glanced quickly behind them to see that they were not overheard. 'Of course not!' he said. 'The King is the supreme head of the Church. All matrimonial decisions go before the Church Court and finally to him. But the young lord and Catherine are in close cousinhood, and their grandparents were cousins also. I daresay it could be argued that the marriage was invalid.'

Alys drew a little breath. 'If you were to recommend it, would the bishop do as you advised?' she asked.

Father Stephen smiled. 'I have a degree of influence with His Grace,' he said smugly. 'But I have not yet decided what advice I should give. I have to pray and think on it, Alys. I am Hugo's friend, but in this I have to be God's man before any other claim.'

Alys nodded sympathetically. 'It is a heavy responsibility for you, Father Stephen,' she said. Her face was turned up to him, her dark eyes guileless. 'It would be so wonderful if you could get the young lord released,' she said. 'The castle would be a happier place! And Lady Catherine would be spared the pain she suffers now.'

Father Stephen nodded. 'Marriage is a sacrament,' he said. 'It lasts until God ends it – unless it was invalid from the first. There can be no argument about suiting a man's or a woman's whim.'

Alys nodded. 'But no one knows what my lady endures,' she said. 'Dreadful acts against her. And she so deep in sin that she glories in them like a beast.'

Father Stephen looked appalled. 'That should stop,' he said. 'Whatever the means, I should stop that. That is mortal sin.

'Here!' he said, breaking off. 'You are shivering. Get to your chamber and some dry clothes.'

Alys turned to go.

'Alys,' he said hesitantly. She turned. 'Swear that you will never think to kill yourself again,' he said. 'It is an awful sin, the most dreadful sin. And it would lead you to a terrible judgement and an eternity in hell. An eternity, Alys! Think of it.'

Alys bowed her head, the sodden purse with the magic dolls safe in her blue hands. 'I do think of it, Father,' she said dully. Then she turned and went.