'Aye, then thank you, lad, but I still say you've more money than sense.

'And you have more pride, Oliver retorted, and this time made her sit still while he unpinned her cloak and gently drew the mantle over her head.

Ethel's good hand stroked the soft, green wool. 'Your father would be proud of you, she murmured. 'He always set store by seeing those who depended on him clothed and fed, God rest his soul.

'Amen, Oliver said, thinking that his father's soul would have small rest whilst a Flemish mercenary sat in his hall. Every time the usurpers visited the church, they would trample on his grave.

The water in the cauldron started to steam and Catrin made them all an infusion of elderberry and rosehip, sweetened with honey. Ethel took the first, warming swallow and, closing her eyes, sighed.

'Shall I tell you why I'm being a cantankerous old woman?

'I had scarce noticed any different, Oliver said flippantly, then sobered as her gaze opened on him with a spark of warning. 'I thought it was because of Catrin and me — because we had stolen your bed and become lovers?

Ethel shook her head. 'Don't be so foolish. I've been hoping for that since the day you told me about her. It's been all I could do sometimes to stop myself from knocking your two stubborn heads together. No, what's set me on edge is that foolish young adjutant of yours.

'Gawin?

'Aye, Gawin. Her tone was eloquent. 'He's been bedding one o' the Countess's women and got her with child.

Oliver's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Catrin ceased patting out oatcakes for the griddle and stared. 'It's Rohese de Bayvel, isn't it?

Ethel sucked her teeth. 'Saw them together last night and they was arguing like cat and dog. She was all for calling him to account and he was having none of it. Soused as a pickled herring he was, but that ain't no excuse for the way he treated the lass, forcing her to her knees in the snow and calling her a slut. She might be a haughty bitch but she deserves better than he gave last night.

Oliver sighed. 'I'll speak with him as soon as I've broken my fast, for what good it will do. You know his morals where women are concerned.

'Speaking's no good, Ethel said sourly. 'Just take him by the scruff and dunk him in the nearest horse-trough. That's what he deserves.

Gawin looked blearily at Oliver. 'It's none of your business, he said belligerently. 'I'm only seconded to you, you're not my feudal lord. His breath was heavy and sour and he was still drunk.

Around them, the hall was groaning to life, everyone sluggish and the worse for wine. It would be the same again on the morrow, and the morrow after that, all the way to the twelfth and last day of the Christmas feast.

'If I was, your back would be flayed raw, Oliver replied coldly. They were sitting at the trestle near the door. A freezing draught fluttered the rushes on the floor and helped to dispel the vinegary stench of stale wine. 'Rohese de Bayvel is not some Shambles whore you can toss a coin and forget. She's one of the Countess's own maids.

'I know that. Gawin's voice was an irritated snarl. He pushed his fingers through his hair.

'From what Ethel overheard last night, I would doubt it.

'Look, she pursued me. Gawin gestured impatiently. 'Good God, she even put one of that hag's disgusting love philtres in my drink. He glared at Oliver. 'If you push me, I will claim that I was bewitched, and then see what happens to yonder midwife and her assistant.

Oliver saw red. Seizing Gawin by the tunic, he drew him face-to-face. 'If anything happens to Ethel or Catrin, you will pay the reckoning to me, in blood. If you cannot tell honour from shame, I do not want you riding at my side! Throwing Gawin down, he strode from the hall into the clean air of the bailey where he leaned against the forebuilding wall, breathing hard, mastering his fury.

When Gawin was sober and had his nose to the grindstone, Oliver would have trusted him with his life. But given leisure and a cup, the young man's personality degenerated with alarming speed. Usually his follies were set right with a handful of silver and a visit to the confessional, but getting Rohese de Bayvel with child and then spurning her was a different matter entirely — as was the petty, vindictive threat against Ethel and Catrin. Oliver was not sure that he could forgive him for that.

The Earl's younger squires and pages were out in the bailey having a boisterous snowball fight. As his breathing slowed, Oliver became aware of them; the flung snow, the joyful shouts. Thomas FitzRainald and Richard were part of the throng and playing their part to the hilt. A half-grown tan mastiff lolloped between the boys chasing the missiles and tossing lumps of snow between its black jaws. Oliver was spied and became an immediate target for both dog and boys. Sweeping up his own ball, he answered vigorously, flinging the last of his anger from him, before he retreated behind raised hands, begging for mercy and spluttering on showered snow.

The dog jumped up at him, barking and scrabbling with blunt claws. Richard grasped its collar and dragged the animal down. 'His name's Finn, he said. 'Earl Robert gave him to me for a Christmas gift. He's even allowed to sleep with me in the dorter.

Oliver dutifully admired the brute, slapping its taut, golden hide, and wiping his hands on his cloak after it slobbered upon him. He accepted that dogs had their role to play in castle life, but he was not particularly fond of them, much preferring the independent aloofness of the cats that stalked the kitchens and stables and occasionally found houseroom as pets. Still, if Robert had given the pup to the boy, it was a mark of how seriously he was treating the blood bond between them.

Richard turned to run back to his snow game but paused and looked hesitantly at Oliver. 'Will you come with me later to visit my mother's grave and lay a wreath of evergreen?

Oliver was touched. 'Of course I will, lad. I'm glad that you think of her.

Richard shrugged. 'It's my duty, he said, then redeemed himself by adding, 'I don't want her to be lonely.

There was a hint of forlornness in the boy's voice that told Oliver more than words. 'We'll pray for her. He squeezed Richard's shoulder. 'I know that if she were here, she would be very proud of you.

Richard nodded and squirmed, embarrassed by the sudden moment of intimacy. Pulling away from Oliver, he ran to join the others, his dog gambolling at his side.

Oliver watched them for a moment, then made his way across the bailey to Ethel's dwelling. Richard's mention of his mother's grave made him think of Emma's. Was it still attended, or had the passage of time and the new Flemish lord caused it to be neglected and forgotten? A pang went through him, wistful and forlorn like the boy's. But in the same manner he was also aware of the life flowing in his veins. How could he not be after the previous night? Head up, a curve to his lips, he approached the small house.

'You know how to protect yourself, girl? Ethel demanded, once Oliver had gone. 'I don't think for one moment that he's like yon young wastrel, but it's best not to bear a babe unless you're sure you want to.

'Yes, I know. Catrin managed not to sound impatient. 'Sheep's wool or moss soaked in vinegar. Besides, it's not as if I'm blessed with fertility. I was wed to Lewis for a year and a half and never once did I miss a flux.

'Hmph, t'aint always the woman's fault.

'I know that. Catrin smoothed the crimson gown beneath her fingers and looked at the grain of the fabric. 'But I know that my former husband's seed was fertile because he confessed to me that he had got one of the kitchen maids at Chepstow with child — although she miscarried in the third month. She raised her head and gave Ethel a look both candid and sad. 'He found it difficult to resist a pretty face, and they, most certainly, had few defences against him. He could have charmed the very birds down from the trees had he so chosen. Suddenly there was heat behind her eyes. How foolish to be mourning Lewis when she should be rejoicing that she had Oliver. 'Let the past lie, she said with a toss of her head, 'I take your advice to heart and I will be careful. Surreptitiously she rubbed her eyes, but Ethel was sharp and saw.

'I doubt such a man is worth weeping for, she said.

'I'm not weeping. It's the smoke from the fire.

'Oh, aye, it is that, Ethel said with double meaning that caused Catrin to flounce on her stool.

Unrepentant, Ethel sucked her teeth. 'So tell me, will Oliver move his pallet in here or will you go to him?

'It is too early to make a decision like that. Ethel was making her feel ever more defensive. Catrin would neither be led nor pushed. Her own free will or nothing. Between her and Oliver there was respect, liking and sheer, honest lust, but it was too new, too soon.

Her face must have shown her thoughts, for Ethel ceased to badger her, saying only, 'You are the daughter I never bore. I want to see you settled and happy. 'Of which I am both — Mother.

Ethel gave a tired smile and patted Catrin's cheek. 'I think I'll rest for a while. She went to lie down on her pallet.

Catrin watched her with a mingling of affection, exasperation and concern.

She knew that Ethel was failing. The unspoken knowledge lay between them, but not for one moment would the old lady admit that each day was becoming more of a struggle. Ethel too was stubborn and in that, indeed, they were as mother and daughter.

Catrin leaned forward to mend the fire and add two more pieces of split log. A shadow darkened the entrance. Glancing up, a welcome on her lips for either Oliver or Godard, she was surprised and alarmed to see a different man blocking her light. He was not one that she had noticed before, but then she paid small heed to the Earl's mercenaries except to be cautious of them and keep her distance.