Richard was in the carved heavy chair at the head of the table, in his breeches and linen shirt. His chair was tipped back on its two back legs with his weight.

His face was like a skull, his lips drawn back in a terrible piteous grin of fear, his eyes staring, looking to me as his rescuer, as the only person in the world who could save him from certain death.

Ralph was behind the chair, one hand pulling Richard’s head back with a tight grip on Richard’s curling hair, the other hand holding a long sharp knife against Richard’s throat.

They were both watching the doorway. They had heard me come in and the slap, slap, slap of my wet nightgown and cloak as I crossed the hall. I took in the scene in one swift glance and quickly pushed the door shut behind me so that no one else could come in, so that no one but us would know. And I leaned back against it.


Richard’s whole face trembled in a pitiful appeal. ‘Julia!’ he said, and I could hear him trying to put his charm into his voice. ‘Julia!’

I looked at him out of my red-rimmed weary eyes. I looked at him, the brother I had loved all my life, and I knew I would never cease loving him. My brother, my blood, my kin.

I raised my head and Ralph’s dark, understanding eyes met mine.

Ralph waited in silence for my decision.

‘Kill him,’ I said.

Ralph’s sweep of the knife was as clean as a butcher’s.

Meridon