The knock on the door startled them both from the beginning of Alys' sensual spellbinding. It was Eliza Herring.

'Mistress Alys! Lady Catherine is awake and asking for you.'

Alys pulled up the shoulders of her gown and shook the creases from the skirt. She threw her hair away from her face. 'I'll go and sit with Catherine,' she said irritably. ‘I’ll tell her that she must go to the hall for supper. She exposes us all to abuse if she will not do her duty.'

She could read nothing from Hugo's face. 'I don't think it is your place to instruct the Lady Catherine on her duty,' he said softly. 'You may tell her that I request it. Your wishes are of little weight in this matter.'

Alys hesitated, unbalanced by Hugo's irritability. 'Tonight…' she said.

Hugo shook his head. 'I will have you tonight, or whenever I choose,' he said sharply. 'But it makes no difference to your service to Lady Catherine. You should not keep her waiting.'

Alys shot one level glance at him. Hugo stared back, without fear, without affection. Alys, her face dark with anger, put down the comb and went to Catherine.

She was propped up on her fine embroidered pillows. Her face was flushed from her sleep and her eyes were red.

'I've been lonely,' she said without preamble.

'I'm sorry to hear that,' Alys said, suppressing her irritation. The room was stifling. It faced east over the courtyard and grew dark in the afternoons, though the summer sky was pale and golden through the window. Catherine had ordered the fire to be banked high and hot in the grate; candles burned on the table. There was a crowded, sour smell to the room. The strewing herbs on the floor were limp and scentless. On the cupboard there was a clutter of sweetmeat plates and Catherine's pots of creams, salves and perfumes, a goblet on its side, the dregs sticky on the shelf, and an empty pitcher of ale.

'I had a bad dream,' Catherine said. 'I dreamed that Hugo had left me, gone to London. Gone to the King's court.' She gave a little sob. 'Like Father,' she said.

Alys sat on the bed, taking Catherine's plump, damp hand. 'Don't grieve,' she said. 'He has not gone. He is not going anywhere. Think of the baby. It is bad for the baby if you cry. Hugo is settled and happy here. He is not planning to leave. And anyway, even if he did, Henry is a gentle king. Hugo could do no wrong at court.'

Catherine lay back against the pillows. Her face was flushed, a little trickle of sweat ran down between her fat breasts inside her night-gown.

'My back hurts,' she said pitifully. 'It aches again.'

Alys concealed her impatience. 'Have you been in bed all day, Catherine?' she asked.

Catherine nodded.

'If you do not walk around you will get heavy and tired, and of course you will ache,' Alys said. 'Let me help you up.'

Catherine shook her head again. ‘I can't walk around,' she said fretfully, 'I am lame. My ankles hurt and my knees. My legs hurt all over. You don't understand, Alys. I am too old and too tired to carry and bear this baby. I am not strong.' She gave a little snuffly sob. 'I am not strong,' she said again.

Alys leaned forward and stroked Catherine's forehead, brushing back the brown hair which clung in limp tendrils to her face.

'What about a bath?' Alys suggested. 'I could tell them to bring a hot bath up for you, with some herbs in it to make you feel less tired. I could wash your hair and you could put on a pretty gown for supper tonight. Wouldn't that help?'

Catherine turned her face towards Alys' caressing hand. 'Yes,' she said, like a child trying to please. 'All right. Tell them to bring me a bath.'

Alys sent the serving-maid down with orders to bring the biggest bath-tub draped with the finest linen cloth to Lady Catherine's room. Sheets must be aired to dry her and wrap her. Alys went to her room to fetch dried flowers and some verbena oil to pour into the bath water and to set before the fire to scent the room.

Hugo was dozing on Alys' bed as she came in, his feet up with his dusty boots on the cover. He opened one lazy eye when he saw her but did not trouble to move. 'What are you doing?' he asked. 'Is Catherine well?'

'She's fretful,' Alys said. 'I thought a bath would soothe her. She's complaining that we left her all day alone. She has not dressed. She has not even washed today. I will give her a bath and wash her hair and get her dressed for supper.'

'Good,' he said. He stretched out and closed his eyes again. The dirt from his boots was smeared all over Alys' new counterpane.

She hesitated for a moment, resentful. Everyone in the castle has their own way with their lives but me, she thought. Hugo can rest and dream of the stupid fair-headed peasant. Catherine can waddle into a bath. I have to run between the two. She nodded without speaking and took the herbs and the oils to Catherine's bedroom. Eliza followed her, holding the door.

The great bath-tub lined with linen had been set before the fire and was filled to the brim with steaming water. Eliza put the herbs and oils beside it, and at Alys' nod helped Catherine from the bed.

Catherine's legs were worse. Around her knees and around her ankles the skin was white and swollen. Her large belly stood out from the rest of her body with the navel protruding. Her breasts were tight and hot, blue-veined and distended. The nipples had swollen and were brown and bruised. Her hands were swollen too, with a deep red mark where her wedding ring was cutting into her finger. Alys took her hand.

'Does this hurt?' she asked.

Catherine nodded. 'It's grown too tight,' she said. 'It throbs.'

Alys held her hand and put one arm around Catherine's wide waist to guide her into the water. Catherine sank, like a beached whale returning to the deep, and sighed with pleasure.

'Fetch your lute,' Alys said to Eliza, 'and sing to us.'

Catherine laid her head back against the edge of the tub. Alys folded a thick square of linen and placed it under Catherine's solid white neck. 'There,' she said. 'That's more comfortable for you.'

Catherine shut her eyes but her mouth quivered. 'I'm so tired,' she said plaintively. 'So tired.'

Alys took a handful of soft waterlogged herbs and scrubbed Catherine's shoulders in a gentle circular motion. Catherine languidly raised one arm and then another for Alys to wash and rub. When she reached Catherine's fingers she massaged them with oil and pulled gently at the wedding ring. It was stuck tight. They would have to call a blacksmith to cut it off. Hugo's wedding ring would have to be cut off Catherine's hand. Alys hid a smile.

Catherine leaned forward in the bath, grunting as she bent over her fat belly while Alys washed her back. Then Alys went around the tub and lifted and washed one leg after another. The skin was yielding, spongy to the touch. Both ankles were swollen as thick as if they were sprained, and both knees. Alys pressed them hard. Catherine did not complain of any discomfort. Alys' fingers left dark red marks.

Eliza tuned her lute and started to play very softly. Catherine lay back in the tub, one white foot in Alys' hands, and shut her eyes. Alys, feeling her healing power welling and pouring through her fingers, rubbed at the sole of Catherine's swollen foot. She sensed Catherine's lack of balance, an unevenness about her body, something sickly, something poisonous inside her. She took up the other foot and rubbed it gently with oil.

When she had finished with Catherine's feet she went to the head of the tub and very gently poured water over Catherine's thick brown hair, concentrating on the skin of the scalp and the temples, washing it with soap and then rubbing it with oil, and then rinsing it all until the hair was clean.

The discontented look of a lonely child had drained away from Catherine as if Alys' touch was a panacea. Her face was rosy. When Eliza's song had finished, she hummed the chorus and then waved her hand: 'Sing it again!' she said. Eliza shot an irreverent wink at Alys and took up the lute for a second time and sang the song through once more. Catherine sighed with pleasure. 'The water is growing cold,' Alys said. 'You must come out, Catherine, or you will chill.'