'But my mother…" Julitta gestured at Ailith. 'I cannot leave her like this!'

'She will be all right. You can check on her between tasks, and I'll look in myself,' Agatha said not unkindly, but with a determined glint in her eye. 'Go on, girl, the sooner gone, the sooner back!' She flapped her hands in a shooing motion.

Julitta did not want to go, but she had little choice. With a final, worried glance at her mother, she went reluctantly from the room and down to the bathhouse.

For the next quarter candle notch, she heaved the pails back and forth, back and forth until the tub in the end cubicle was filled to two-thirds of its depth and the steam rose from its surface as thickly as river mist. Her wayward hair developed a wilder curl, and her face glowed with effort. She scattered fragrant herbs in the tub and made up the couch. Her mind watched her body at work, focusing upon the red hands, the damp, wild curtains of her hair as she leaned forward, the stoop of her spine. The cruelty was knowing that there was more to existence than this. She was bursting with life and all the vital force was being wasted in bearing pails of water and watching fat merchants grope smug whores… in watching her mother die by inches before her very eyes. Julitta thumped the bolsters and shook the coverlet vigorously in the same way that she had once attacked the bread in the kitchens at Ulverton.

That memory mauled her now, springing from its forgotten corner to sink its claws into the present. She could clearly recall the gritty feel of the flour on her small palms, the smell of yeast, the sunlight patterning the kitchen shed floor; her mother's voice gently chiding, and her own tantrum in response. The princess never knew what she owned until she was made a beggar.

There were tears in her eyes as she picked up the empty bath pails and prepared to leave the room. Wulfstan the Goldsmith was blocking the doorway. She gasped in surprise, and her stomach clenched with fear as he drew the curtain across, blocking the safe view of the passage and main room beyond.

'Put the pails down,' he said gently. 'You won't be needing them for some little while.'

His bulk was firmly planted between Julitta and escape. Her eyes flickered, seeking a way out, and finding none. Retaining the pail in her left hand, she relinquished the one in her right and drew her eating knife. She held it close in to her body, tilted at a wicked angle. Even at fourteen, her uncertain life had taught her the skills of survival.

The merchant smiled indulgently but his grey eyes were cold as he unpinned his cloak and wrapped it around his arm. 'Put that toy away,' he said in the same mild, comfortable voice. 'It would be a pity to hurt you.'

His tone raised the hairs at Julitta's nape. She could see in his eyes that despite his words, he intended to hurt her very much.

Wulfstan took a step forwards. 'I kissed your mother once, but I'll wager that your lips are the sweeter. No-one else has tasted them, eh?'

Julitta shifted her stance, trying to keep the bathtub between herself and Wulfstan. There was a new coarseness to his breathing and his complexion was darkly flushed. She had heard men speak of being 'hot for a woman' and now she knew what they meant, could almost see the heat shimmer of Wulfstan's lust. Her legs were suddenly weak and her heart banged against her ribs like a prisoner hammering to escape.

'Please, Jesu, please let me go!' she cried.

Wulfstan cocked his head on one side. 'I tell you what,' he said, moistening his lips, 'I'm a fair man. Some might hold my softness against me, but I'm prepared to give you a sporting chance. If you can win past me and through that curtain, I'll let you go and not pursue you further. What do you say?' Smiling, he stepped aside and spread his arm in invitation.

The mild voice was now gently playful, but Julitta knew that she was trapped. She had once seen a cat catch a bird and then toy with it, letting it flutter free then batting it to the ground before its mauled wings could carry it to safety. And when the cat had tired, it had unsheathed its claws and sunk them deep to kill. But like the bird, Julitta's terror still made her struggle for that impossible freedom.

'Don't you want to escape?' Wulfstan hitched up his tunic and loosened the drawstring on his braies. 'You want me, is that it?'

In one swift motion, Julitta scooped up a bucketful of the bath water and flung it over Wulfstan in a sparkling deluge. He staggered backwards, spluttering, and she made her bid for escape, clawing frantically at the curtain. Wulfstan caught her around the waist and dragged her back into the room where he flung her down on the floor and pinned her there with his weight. One large hand crushed over her right wrist until she was forced to relinquish her grip on the dagger. His soaking hair and beard dripped on her face. 'You little bitch!' he snarled, and his tone now was neither mild nor playful. She could hardly breathe for the pressure of his well-fed weight on her slender body. Against the juncture of her thighs, through her clothes and his, she felt the swollen pressure of his erection and she screamed. The merchant pressed his hand over her mouth and nose, cutting off her air. She bit him as hard as she could on the fleshy side of his palm and he released her with a bellow of enraged pain. Julitta screamed again. Wulfstan fetched her a clout on the side of the head that made her ears ring, and sent black stars wheeling across her vision. Muttering curses at her and encouragement to himself, the man set about dragging up her skirts and forcing her legs apart. Julitta heaved and struggled. He had to release her while he freed his turgid organ from his braies, and Julitta made her right hand into a claw and gouged a deep line of scratches from his cheekbone to the growth of beard on his jaw. He reared back, blood welling from the wounds, and Julitta once more displayed her uncommon education by seizing his exposed testicles and twisting with all her strength.

It was Wulfstan's turn to scream. The noise rebounded off the walls and sank into the curtain. He rolled off her hand, doubled up, twisting back and forth, howling in agony. His erection deflated more rapidly than it had risen, and he clutched himself.

Gasping in terror, Julitta scrambled to her feet and groped at the curtain. Wulfstan's voice ceased abruptly in mid-howl and suddenly he was choking and struggling for air, his face turning a ghastly greyish-blue. A spasm shuddered through him and his body arched. His irises disappeared, leaving blind eye-whites. Julitta stared, knowing that she should make her escape, but rooted to the ground by sheer horror.

Wulfstan shuddered again, his entire body rigid. His final breath wheezed in his throat and his body slumped. The white stare locked upon Julitta in accusation. She clutched the curtain for support, not understanding what had happened, her legs made of jelly.

'In the name of all the saints, what goes forth here?' Dame Agatha came puffing down the line of cubicles. 'What were those dreadful sounds?' She pushed past Julitta into the room, then stopped and clapped her hands to her mouth. 'God on the Cross!' She sucked a breath through her fingers.

'He… he pounced on me,' Julitta said weakly. 'I tried to fight him off and suddenly he started choking for breath and turning blue… I was only trying to stop him…" Her voice wobbled. She swallowed, struggling for composure.

'Well, you have certainly done that, my girl.' Agatha's expression was grim. She stooped to check Wulfstan's body for signs of life, then, shaking her head, stood up. 'Reckon as he had a seizure. I seen it oftimes before. A rich man in his middle yean comes seeking excitement and 'tis more than his body can stand.'

'Is he dead?' Julitta gave a small shudder.

'As a Norman's conscience,' Agatha confirmed. 'It'll ruin my custom as soon as this news hits the city. What did you have to claw him for? Them marks on his face will make it look as if he died of more than just a seizure!'

'He… he was going to rape me,' Julitta said. 'I… wanted to stop him, not to kill him.'

Agatha's ham-like arms folded around each other and hitched the mountainous bosom. The good dame pushed out her lower lip and scowled thoughtfully. 'His family won't want this cried abroad, that's for sure. I suppose there's profit to be had out of that along the way, but you and your mother must leave. I can't afford to have you here if the law comes calling. As this is, it won't do my reputation no good. I run a proper house.'

'Go?' Julitta looked at her, nonplussed. 'But my mother is too sick to make a journey.'

'She won't get any better staying here.' Agatha unfolded her arms and removed the leather money pouch from her belt. 'Here, take this silver to tide you over.'

Julitta stared at the bag of coins dangling from Agatha's fat fingers.

'Go on, take it and get you gone, before worse befalls you,' Agatha commanded. 'Do you want to be stripped naked and paraded through the streets of Southwark in an open cart before you finish on the gibbet for the murder of a prominent townsman? Well, do you?'

Julitta shook her head, her mind filling with a vision of herself standing in a ladder-sided cart, no garment save her wild, red hair, while jeering crowds threw stones at her and clods of dung, their stares a combination of lust and contempt. She knew that no-one would think to plead for an insignificant Southwark whore. The closest to mercy she was going to come was this bag of coins and the leeway to make her escape across the river to the nuns at St Aethelburga's. If only her mother was strong enough to bear the journey. If only she was strong enough herself.