A grey destrier swung out of the line and headed straight towards her. Again Catrin's heart swooped and plummeted, but in response to a different blend of emotions. 'Oliver! she cried.

His grin dazzled beneath the nasal bar of his helm. During ten days in the field, his jaw had sprouted an embryo beard of startling Viking-red. Riding up to her, he leaned from the saddle and extended his palm. She took it, set her foot over his and, in a flash of scarlet silk hose, straddled the stallion's rump. Lodging one hand in his belt, she clutched the basket of eels with the other.

'Have we not met somewhere before? Oliver jested, his eyes flickering from her face to the basket, to her red hose, as if he could not decide where to look first.

'I am sure I would remember if we had, Catrin retorted, her eyes dancing.

'And do you?

'I could be persuaded.

He laughed and twisted in the saddle to embrace her, then made a hasty grab for the reins as the horse jinked sideways. Catrin uttered a small scream and, laughing, gripped his belt more tightly.

Randal de Mohun watched the play with a half-smile on his lips and contempt in his eyes. 'I did not realise your «protection» extended that far, Pascal. There was an edge to the jesting tone of his voice.

Returning to the ranks, Oliver gave de Mohun a cool look. 'As of Twelfth-Night, we have been betrothed, he said. 'Catrin is my wife in all but the final blessing.

After one glance at de Mohun, Catrin lowered her eyes. There was something about the mercenary that caused her flesh to crawl. It was more than just the incident when he had tried to kiss her as she tended his hand.

'Then I congratulate both of you. De Mohun inclined his head in a mocking salute. 'I'll drink to your happiness the moment I'm free of my duty.

If he hoped for an invitation to do that drinking with Oliver's coin, he was disappointed. Oliver fixed a polite expression on his face and held it there, refusing to be drawn.

Just to be irritating, de Mohun needled them with his presence for a while longer, but finally he gave up and rode off down the line to snarl at the recruits.

Catrin's scalp prickled. She did not know whether she preferred him in her sight or out of it.

'Yes, Oliver murmured as if reading her mind. 'He is a wolf. A very fine wolf who will sit at your fire and save your life from other wolves, and then, because it is his nature, he will snap your hand off in his jaws. 'I thought he was your friend.

'Only in the days when I thought it was daring to have a wolf at my fire and I had nothing to care about.

'Well, you do now, she replied, 'so have a care to yourself too. She was not just speaking of de Mohun, although he was cause enough for concern. Now that the first joy of greeting was over, she had time to remember that Oliver's return was fleeting; that very soon he would be on the road again, this time to full war.

Oliver laughed. 'You need have no fear on that score, he said vehemently.

While they were dismounting in the castle bailey, Gawin approached them. 'Has there been any news, Mistress?

She dusted down her skirts and glanced at him. 'News?

'About Rohese? He bit his lip.

Catrin shook her head and could not help but feel pity for him. 'No, I'm sorry, she said. 'There has been no word in the town.

He nodded his thanks and, downcast, turned away. Oliver watched him and sighed. 'I would not usually say this, but setting out on campaign will be the best thing for him — clear his mind, help him find his balance. It's the first time that he's had to face the reaping of what he has sown.

Catrin nodded sombrely. 'It was probably the first time for Rohese too.

Oliver sighed heavily. 'God have mercy on them both. Which was the nearest he would come to saying that he thought Rohese was dead. Gathering Catrin into his arms, he kissed her. 'I have to go and make my report to the Earl and I don't know when I'll be free, but save some eel stew and a seat by the fire.

'I can think of warmer places, Catrin said mischievously, 'but only if you shave that stubble.

He cupped his jaw. 'I promise, if you promise.

Laughing, she pushed herself out of his arms and went to tend to the dinner.

Ethel was waiting for her. 'He's back then, the old woman said, and eased her stool away from the fire so that Catrin had room to cook the eels she had just put down.

'How do you know?

Ethel chuckled. 'Your face gives you away. Besides, I saw the horses in the bailey.

'There are always horses in the bailey these days, Catrin said with a small shrug. Sitting on her heels, she looked at Ethel. 'But he won't be staying for long. I don't want… Her voice betrayed her. In silence she donned a linen apron and picked up a sharp knife.

'You will not lose him, lass. The old midwife touched her breast. 'I know it in here.

'Lightning does not strike in the same place twice, you mean? She stripped the skin from an eel with a sharp, downward tug.

'I just know it. Time was when I could command the sight by scrying in a cauldron of simmering water. I ain't got the art any more, lost it when I had my first seizure, but I still have inklings at times. He'll come back to you, never you doubt.

Catrin finished preparing the eels in silence. Then she wiped her hands on the apron and looked intently at Ethel. 'Truly? You have truly seen? Her breathing was suddenly short.

Ethel made the sign of the cross. 'I swear it on the Heavenly Virgin. He was riding that grey of his in the midst of a victory procession. I could see a crown shining and there was great rejoicing. Her voice tailed off and her eyes grew dark and distant.

'What else did you see? When Ethel did not respond, Catrin gave her a little shake. 'Ethel?

The midwife came to with a start and shook her head. 'What else did I see? she repeated vaguely. 'I don't remember. It was confusing and I was tired. All I know is that you need not fear for Oliver's well-being on this march. She rummaged beneath her mantle. 'You could give him this though, as a talisman. She handed Catrin one of her famous knots, threaded on to a strip of leather. It was woven with three colours of hair — raven-black, flaxen-gold and dark, rich copper.

Catrin gave Ethel a questioning look. 'Mine and Oliver's I can see, she said, 'although I will not ask how you came by them, but whose is the red hair?

Ethel shuffled self-consciously on her stool. 'It is mine. Do you think I was always this dirty sheep colour?

'No… I…

'Time was when I could put autumn herself to shame. She leaned for her satchel and, with shaky fingers, unfastened the latch. Delving to the bottom, she drew forth a pouch of light green silk and from it produced a plait of hair, thick as a wrist and the colour of a copper beech leaf. 'I had it cut off when the first grey threads started to show. It was a hot summer and I didn't miss my hair — I had to wear a wimple anyway. Sometimes I use strands in weaving my knots, but not often. You can see how full and thick it still is. There was pride in her voice.

The sight of the plait filled Catrin with poignancy. She narrowed and blurred her eyes and tried to imagine Ethel as a young woman with glossy, auburn tresses and a spring in her step. 'You must have been beautiful.

Ethel made a preening gesture. 'I had my admirers, she said. 'I tell you something else too, something that I have never told anyone before. She lowered her voice. 'Oliver is my great-nephew.

Catrin raised her brows in startled question.

Ethel nodded. 'I am the bastard daughter of his great-grandsire. My mother conceived me at the midsummer festival in the fields beyond the bonfire. She gave me a one-sided smile. 'Old lord Osmund had the red hair but, fortunately, so did my mother. She was able to pass me off as her husband's, but I always knew that I was different to my brothers and sisters.

'So there is a family tie between you? Catrin looked down at the knot in her lap. 'Did Oliver's great-grandsire ever know?

Ethel shrugged. 'He never made a point of enquiring after me, but we never went short. Sometimes there would be gifts from the keep — a new goat when ours died, the end from a bolt of linen with enough on it to make me a chemise. He paid for my brother, Alberic, to be educated for the priesthood at Malmesbury. The bond was known but never acknowledged, and after he died it was forgotten. She stroked the plait and returned it to its pouch.

'Why tell me now? Catrin asked.

Ethel shrugged. 'Perhaps it is a secret that I don't want to take with me to the grave.

Catrin looked at her with dismay widening her eyes, and Ethel looked back serenely.

'I would be a fool not to realise how frail I have become, she said. 'I am a herb-wife. I know what can be healed and what has to be. Then she smiled and gently shook her head. 'That stew is not going to be ready before midnight.

Taking the hint, Catrin tucked the hair knot away and resumed chopping the eels. She did not want to think of Ethel dying, but she saw the truth as clearly as the old woman, and knowledge was a two-edged sword. She could not decide whether it was better to live in ignorance or know what the future held in store. Oliver was going to be all right. Ethel was going to die.


Gazing into the fire, Ethel watched the flames dance, but they did not speak to her again and she was glad. She did not have the energy to discern their meanings. They could be so ambiguous, and that troubled her. Behind the shining crown and Oliver's return, there were dark currents that threatened to ruin the future of those that Ethel loved best, and she knew that there was nothing she could do.