'I mean it, Oliver deflected swiftly. 'It is no less than I expected you to say, although I suspect that this, he gestured at Ethel, 'is more than you had in mind.

'We were unfortunate, Catrin said stiffly.

'To the contrary, you are more lucky than you know. When she opened her mouth to argue, he laid a forefinger against her lips. 'No more, or we will both say things that we will regret. For now, my priority is to see you and Ethel safe back to the keep and alert the watch about those two ruffians.

She swallowed and nodded. Then she swallowed again and compressed her lips, her complexion greenish-white.

His gaze sharpened and he swore softly beneath his breath. Turning to the woman who had brought the ale and the stool, he haggled the use of her donkey for a penny and deliberated which of the two women was going to sit on it.

'I can manage, Catrin said grimly between clenched teeth. 'Let Ethel ride.

Oliver studied her, then nodded. Pride, if nothing else, would keep her upright until they reached the castle.

While the woman held the ass, he helped Ethel on to its bony, scooped back. He had always viewed the old woman as being physically solid and strong. In his youth, the back-swipe of her arm had floored a village brat on many an occasion, so he was disconcerted to discover that she weighed next to nothing. She was like a bird, her bones hollow for the flight of her soul. Her spirit, however, had no intention of departing just yet, and it was with relief that he heard her remark tartly that she was not a sack of cabbages.

Clicking his tongue to the donkey, he turned it round. 'A sack of cabbages would not cause me so much trouble, he retorted, and held out his arm for Catrin to lean on. It was a measure of her own wretchedness that she took it without demur.

Chapter 11

'Go on, say it, Catrin challenged.

'Say what? Oliver spread his hands, his breath clouding the air. Around them frost glittered like loaf sugar. Ice, a fingernail thick, lay in clear, angular patterns on the waterbutts and troughs, and the mud in the bailey had become a pliable, white-crusted clay.

'That you were right and I was wrong.

'About what?

'About being open to attack. She stamped her feet, with both impatience and cold. She could see that he was going to make her pay by drawing the incident out. He had been absent on the Earl's business yesterday. She and Ethel had stayed by the fire, nursing their bruises. 'You told me that I was vulnerable, and I ignored you.

'No less than I expected. He blew on his cupped hands. 'You were bound to learn the hard way.

'I hate you, she said calmly.

'That's no less than I expected either. How's your head today?

'It aches, but it belongs to me again. She touched her forehead and grimaced slightly at the niggle of pain still lingering behind her eyes.

'And Ethel?

'Somewhat shaken despite all her brave words. I've left her by the fire with a hot tisane and one of her gossips for company — old Agatha from the laundry.

'So your time is your own for a little while?

'Unless the Countess sends for me. Catrin cocked her head on one side and eyed him suspiciously. 'Why?

'I have something for you. He took her arm, and led her across the bailey towards the Countess's garden.

'Where are we going? Utterly baffled, Catrin hung back a little. She hardly thought that he was going to present her with a flower in this bleak weather, or take her for a stroll around the dormant herb beds. If he wanted somewhere private to talk, there were warmer places than a pleasance at the end of November.

But his direction did not alter, and within moments they had entered through the gate and into a world on the edge of dormancy. The soil was turned and brown, each clod wearing a frill of hoar. The herb beds still held tinges of colour, the sage and lavender standing bravely against the cold. The mint was straggly and the tansy and rue had bowed their heads. Of the gardener, the only sign was the scent of frying bacon wafting from the tiny thatched hut on the far right near the rows of leeks and cabbages.

'Well? Catrin repeated.

He led her down one of the marked-out paths to a grassy ring, surrounded by stone benches. The Countess's women often came here in summer to sew and weave. Occasionally Mabile would hold small feasts and entertainments for selected guests. They would sit out until the moon rose in the sky, cooking morsels of marinated food over an open fire. Today the place was frozen and deserted, the grass blades wearing a white scaling of frost, and the stone benches bleak grey, untouched by any kindness of sun.

'Oliver, why have you brought me here? she persisted, and hugged herself with cold.

For answer he reached beneath his cloak, tugged at his belt, and presented her with a knife — not one for eating or midwifery work, but a man's weapon with a sharp blue edge and a haft of decorated bone. 'I want you to carry this with you for protection when you go out into the city at night, he said.

Catrin took the weapon but could not prevent a shudder. 'I don't know how to use it.

'That's why you're here now — to learn. I saw the way you were holding that blade of yours when you were attacked. If you are going to draw a knife on someone, you have to know how to fight — not only that, but how to survive.

Catrin shook her head. 'Oliver, I cannot…"

'No such word, he said in a tone that refuted argument, and handed her a piece of wood which had been carved to the same shape as the knife. From his belt, he drew a similar piece. 'It's a skill as indispensable as any that Ethel's taught you.

For the next hour, Catrin was instructed in the art of self-defence. At first she was self-conscious and unsure, her lunges half-hearted, because she felt foolish. 'Christ, who's to see you? Oliver demanded. 'Why do you think I chose the gardens? There's only the old man and he's too busy breaking his fast to pay any attention to us! If it does not bother me, then it shouldn't bother you.

'You're a man, she said. 'This is customary to you.

He rolled his eyes in disbelief. 'And it was a man who attacked you in the street! You are doing this for your life, woman. Don't tell me it is not in your nature to fight back. I know full well the measure of your mulishness. He looked at her broodingly for a moment. 'Imagine that I am a robber, out for your purse and perhaps other things in the dead of night. How would you fight me off?

'Throw pepper in your face and run, she said quickly.

'With Ethel at your side? he snorted. 'Or supposing I emerged from a side alley too swiftly for you to reach in your satchel for the pepper? If it was your intent the other morning, you failed miserably.

Catrin reddened, but could not deny the truth of what he said. There had indeed been a pouch of pepper in her satchel, but buried near the bottom.

'Come at me again, he said, beckoning.

Catrin sighed, pursed her lips and thrust with the wooden knife. Grey eyes dark with anger, Oliver grabbed her wrist and twisted it round, making her drop the knife; then he hooked his leg around hers and brought her down hard on the frozen grass. Straddling her, pinning her wrists above her head, he snarled, 'This is what could happen to you, and in no more space than an eye-blink… and worse.

Catrin swallowed and stared up at the harsh planes of his face, mere angry inches from hers. The frozen grass struck through her clothes and chilled her flesh. His grip was bruising, his weight took her breath. 'Let me go, she said shakily.

'You know what an attacker would say, he answered grimly, and held her down a moment longer before relaxing his grip and drawing her to her feet. Her teeth chattering, she glared at him as he brushed the frost from her cloak with the flat of his hand.

'Jesu, Catrin, I don't want to lose you. If you must go abroad in the street, then at least let it not be like a lamb to the slaughter. For all your fire and spirit, you would not survive as you are now. I am not suggesting that you become an Amazon, only that you should learn to defend yourself long enough to live. If you cannot unbend enough to do that, then what chance do you have? His voice took on a pleading note.

She continued to scowl at him, wanting to capitulate but hampered by her pride. With a sigh, he turned from her and retrieved her wooden knife from the grass. 'When you can hold me off for a turn of the cook's small hourglass, I will consider that you have evened the odds. If you're angry with me, Catrin, then use it. He held out the weapon. 'Take it and show me.

'Angry with you? She shook her head and closed her hand around the wooden haft. 'I am angry with myself. She tilted the blade at the angle he had shown her earlier. 'Tell me again. The sooner I master this, the sooner I'll be rid of your lecturing.

Their eyes met, held in challenge for a moment, then sparked at the same time with reluctant humour.

'My «lecturing» might just save your life, he pointed out, struggling not to grin. 'Now, let's begin again. Disable, disarm and run.

By the end of an hour, Catrin was no longer cold. Flushed and panting, all self-consciousness forgotten, she strove to hold Oliver at bay, making up for her lack of skill in sheer determination. Indeed, her moments of success, brief though they were, filled her with exhilaration and a certain rashness.

'Disable, disarm and run! he yelled at her, laughing despite himself as he parried a swipe aimed at his belly. 'God's bones, you don't have to stay for the kill!