'So must I, else it'll be nightfall before we arrive. Inclining his head in farewell, he turned from her and set off in the direction of the outer bailey. Catrin watched his retreating figure, the confidence of his stride, the way he spoke cheerfully to an acquaintance as he went on his way. In the three years since Lewis's death she had come to terms with her loss and it had diminished to a dull ache at the back of her mind. Now, once more, it was a clear, sharp pain that took her breath. She was aware of standing in the bailey, alone amongst all the vigour and bustle, her figure small and insignificant. She doubted that anyone would care deeply, or even notice, if she were suddenly to vanish.

Then Catrin clucked her tongue impatiently. What did it matter if no one cared, as long as she did herself? Relying on others was a dangerous way to live, and frequently a waste of time. Drawing herself up, she returned to the keep, prepared to face whatever the day held.

Chapter 5

'You can have these, said Countess Mabile. She had been rummaging in the depths of an oak coffer and now emerged with a length of unbleached linen and another of sage-green wool. 'You're neither tall nor buxom. There should be enough for an under gown and dress.

'Thank you, my lady. Catrin took the fabric with gratitude. The wool in particular was of excellent quality and, despite Mabile's words, there was plenty to make a dress and probably enough for some panels in the sides and modest hanging sleeves. All she had to do was cut and sew them — and as quickly as possible, given the state of her current garments. She had discarded the tawny overgown because it was just too stained and obnoxious to be seen in polite company. Her blue-green undertunic clung flatteringly to her figure, but there was a large patch near one of the seams where moths had caused damage, and a couple of burn marks on the skirt from leaping embers.

The Countess looked her up and down. 'You'll need something for now as well, she said, and went to plunder another coffer. It was her own personal one and more ornately carved and inlaid than the other. Her face was animated, a pink flush to her cheeks. Catrin could see that Mabile was enjoying herself greatly making a silk purse from a sow's ear.

'I'm sure one of my daughter's old gowns is in here. She left it after a visit — she was pregnant at the time and it wouldn't fit her any more. Ah, here we are. From the chest, she drew a dress of dark crimson wool. It was in the fitted style, tight to the waist, then flaring out to an almost circular hem. There was gold thread woven into the braid at cuff and throat and the matching waist-tie. Catrin had never seen a gown so fine, and stared in disbelief as the Countess handed it to her.

'My lady, I cannot! she gasped, feeling overawed.

'Don't be foolish, Mabile snapped. 'It's lain here for three years as it is. If it stays any longer, the moths will make use of it beyond repair. Put it on and let me hear no more. She thrust it into Catrin's arms and turned back to the coffer. There's a wimple in here somewhere that should suit.

Speechless with gratitude, Catrin donned the red gown. The sleeves and hem were slightly too long, but otherwise it was a good fit, and the colour was a perfect foil for her black hair and hazel-green eyes.

'Catrin, you look beautiful! Edon FitzMar circled her, twitching the gown into place. 'You'll have all the knights falling over each other to share your trencher in the hall!

Catrin pulled a face. 'Reason enough to take it off this instant, she said, but really she was pleased, her confidence buoyed by the luxury of the new garment and the admiration she saw in the other young woman's eyes. Nor did the cold envy in Rohese de Bayvel's disturb her, for it only served to confirm that the red dress must suit her.

The Countess found a wimple of cream-coloured silk, edged with crimson embroidery, and secured it lightly over Catrin's braids with a brass circlet. Then she stood back to admire her handiwork. 'Much better, she declared. 'Child, you are quite lovely.

Catrin reddened at the compliment. Fine feathers, it seemed, did make a fine bird.

For the rest of the morning, she and Edon sat in a corner of the bower, cutting and sewing the linen and wool into new garments. Catrin did not want to parade about the keep in the red gown. It was too fine to wear except in the hall at night and on special occasions. Rohese did not offer to help with either the cutting or the sewing, and Catrin was glad, for it saved her the bother of refusing. She had a strong suspicion that given the opportunity, Rohese would have ruined the fabric in some way. Catrin resolved to keep her distance as much as she could.

Edon proved a competent seamstress in her own right and was brisk with a needle. As she stitched, she asked tentative questions about Catrin's past. She was obviously curious, and just as obviously trying to be tactful. Unfortunately the two did not marry.

'I'm so sorry about your husband, she said, after Catrin had reluctantly yielded the information that he had been killed in a fight. 'It must have been horrible to lose him when you had been wed so short a time.

Catrin fought the urge to snap at her companion. Edon could not know how deep the wound was, but she was doing an admirable job of grinding salt into it.

Edon looked at her sidelong, and her face fell. 'I shouldn't have said that, should I? She touched Catrin's arm in an apologetic gesture. 'Geoffrey's always telling me that I never stop to think.

'It doesn't matter. Catrin's voice was ungracious.

'Yes, it does, I can see that I've hurt you.

Catrin's needle flew. 'It is in the past, it cannot be changed, and there is no use in grieving. She gave Edon a tight smile. 'There is no use talking about it either.

'No, no of course not. Edon bit her soft lower lip and returned to her sewing.

Catrin had said that she did not want to talk about the past, but now that it had been called to mind it was not so easy to banish. She could still see Lewis on the last day of his life with perfect clarity; his wind-ruffled dark curls and burnished mail, his hands on his mount's bridle, quick, clever and graceful.

'The last night we were together we quarrelled, she said. The words emerged of their own volition, as if the edges of the wound could no longer be held together. 'He had come late to our bed after a night of gambling and drinking with the other men. There had been a woman too — one of those dancing girls you sometimes see — and his skin stank of her scent. We had never argued the way we argued that night. I refused to kiss him in the morning before he rode away. I turned my cheek and I turned my back. By the time I had regretted the deed and run after him, he was gone. She took three swift stitches. 'I never saw him again.

'Oh Catrin! Once more Edon touched her.

Catrin laughed bitterly. 'Reason and good sense were never mine where Lewis was concerned. I gave him my body before we were wed and he took it with never a second thought — my heart too, and that he broke.

Edon gave the suspicion of a sniff. 'I cannot bear anyone to be sad. I wish I'd never asked you.

Catrin was irritated, but tried not to let it show. It was not Edon's fault that she appeared to have feathers for brains. She was the kind who would weep over a minstrel's song in the hall and wax sentimental at the smallest opportunity.

Although she knew that Edon wanted to be embraced, Catrin could not bring herself to such an intimacy so soon. 'Then let us talk about it no longer.

Edon nodded and sniffed again, her small nose pink. 'You're not angry with me, are you?

'No, Catrin said. Irritated certainly, she thought. And yes, at her core, she was angry, but not with Edon. Biting off the thread, she selected a new strand. 'Tell me about yourself instead.

For the next half hour, Edon took Catrin at her word and poured such a glue of mundane trivia into her ears that she became almost insensible. Edon's husband Geoffrey was, it seemed, a paragon among men. He was tall, exceedingly handsome, gentle, witty, brave and kind. Catrin doubted that such a male existed, except in Edon's imagination. A man without flaws was one without a soul. But she kept her counsel and smiled in the right places whilst her eyes glazed and her jaw ached with the effort of preventing a yawn.

She was rescued from purgatory when an elderly woman appeared in the chamber doorway.

Edon ceased her litany of 'Geoffrey says', and put her sewing down with brightening eyes. 'Here's the midwife, she murmured to Catrin. 'She's going to attend my lying in. I asked her to find me an eagle stone; I wonder if she's got it now. Raising her arm, she beckoned.

The woman had paused to catch her breath after the arduous climb up the winding stairs from the hall. She returned Edon's salute and, after a moment, came over to them. Catrin noted that she moved slowly with a slight limp on the left side, and she was still panting as she sat on the bench beside the two young women.

'When you pass three score years and ten, you shouldn't go climbing twice that number of stairs in one attempt. She placed her hand to her breast as if the motion would calm her heart.

'Did you bring it, did you bring my eagle stone? Edon demanded like a greedy child.

Catrin could have kicked her for such lack of consideration. 'Would you like some wine? she offered. It was perhaps not her place to do so, being the newest addition to the Countess's women, but Catrin had no time for such conventions.

'Bless you, child. The woman smiled, exposing her worn teeth. The lines on her face deepened and crinkled, revealing humour and endurance.