The abbess' wise old face lit up with a smile. 'There, my child!' she said delightedly. 'The Lord has provided for us, and He will provide for us over and over again. Don't be faint-hearted, Sister Ann! Trust in Him, and He will bring us to great joy.'

Alys nodded dumbly and climbed up the step of the sheep gate and stepped into the saddle.

That's a very fine horse,' the abbess observed. 'Too good for a cleric, I would have thought.'

'It's Lady Catherine's horse,' Alys said quickly. 'She is carrying the young lord's child and cannot ride. They like me to ride her mare to keep it in exercise.'

The abbess nodded slowly, looking from the horse to Alys. For one moment Alys was gripped with a chilling certainty that the old woman understood everything, could see everything. The lies, the witchcraft, the walking wax dolls, the murder of Morach, and the bed with three writhing, greedy bodies. Hugo's laugh when he called her his wanton whore echoed in the sunny afternoon air around them.

Mother Hildebrande looked into Alys' face, unsmiling. 'Come tomorrow,' she said gently. ‘I think you have been very near to very grave sin, my daughter. Come tomorrow and you can confess to me and with the guidance of God I will absolve you.'

'I have not been near sin,' Alys said breathlessly. She managed a clear honest smile. 'Nowhere near, praise God!' she said lightly.

Mother Hildebrande did not smile in return. She looked from the expensive, elegant pony in the rich, well-made harness to Alys in her red gown with the silver embroidered stomacher and her cherry-red cape; and her old face was drained of its earlier joy. She looked as if she had been cut to the heart.

'Tomorrow at noon,' she said firmly and turned and went back inside the cottage.

Alys watched the door shut on the frail figure and stayed for a moment longer. There was no sound of a tinderbox, no smoke drifted out of the barred window. There would be no dry kindling in the hut, perhaps only one or two rushlights. Morach might have hidden her tinderbox. But even if there had been one – Mother Hildebrande would not have known how to light a fire.

Alys wrenched the mare's head around towards home. 'Come on!' she said sullenly. She kicked it hard and the animal flinched and lunged forward, nearly unseating her. 'Come on!' she said.

Twenty-five

When Alys rode up to the inner castle gate Eliza came dashing down the stairs, pushing past the soldiers and dragging her from the saddle.

'Come at once! Come at once!' she said in an urgent undertone. 'It's Catherine! She's in pain. None of us know what to do! Thank God you're back now! They were about to send the soldiers out to look for you!'

Alys let Eliza grab her and rush her across the drawbridge, through the great hall and up the stairs to the ladies' gallery.

The place was filled with people. Servants were dodging in and out carrying trays. Sheets were airing before the fire. Someone had let Hugo's deerhound into the room and it growled when it saw Alys. Two serving-men were labouring up the stairs with the bath-tub, another two coming behind with churns of hot water.

'She said she wanted a bath,' Eliza said. 'She wanted you to bath her again, like you did yesterday. Then she said she felt pains in her belly. She was walking around to ease them. We made her get into bed. Hugo has only just come in himself, we were afraid you were off together and would be gone all day. David has just gone to tell Lord Hugh. Catherine's in her bedroom -go to her, Alys! Go to her!'

Alys clapped her hands. 'Out of here!' she shouted. All of her anger and fear and frustration boiled over in one releasing burst of rage. 'Out of here, you useless toss-pots!' she yelled. She took one of the servants by the shoulder and spun him around and thrust him out of the room. He staggered on the stairs and collided with another, hurrying up the stairs with extra sheets. Alys grabbed a page-boy by the ear and pushed him out of the room. One of the serving-wenches was giggling helplessly at the chaos. Alys smacked her hard across the face and watched with vicious pleasure as the red marks of her fingertips showed on the girl's cheek.

'Now get out,' Alys said to them all. 'I will call you if I need any of you.'

She left them scrambling for the gallery door and stalked towards Catherine's bedroom.

Hugo was at the head of the bed, holding Catherine's hands. Her women, Ruth, Mistress Allingham and Margery, were on the other side of the bed. Ruth was swinging a censer of silver which Alys recognized as part of Hugo's haul from the nunnery. The air was thick with the throat-rasping smell of incense. Margery was sponging Catherine's head. She was tossing on the pillow, with her eyes shut. Every now and then she gave a gasp of pain and strained her body upwards as if some giant hand had gripped her in the middle and hauled her to the roof.

'Stop that,' Alys said irritably to Ruth. 'And open a window. The place stinks.'

Hugo looked up, his scowl disappearing. 'Thank God you're back, Alys,' he said. 'No one knew what to do, and the physician in Castleton is away all week. I was on the edge of sending for the wise woman from Richmond.' 'When did the pains start?' Alys asked. Catherine opened her eyes at Alys' voice. 'This morning,' she said. 'When I woke.'

Alys nodded knowledgeably, though she knew nothing more. 'I'll have to look at her,' she said. 'You'd better wait outside.'

Hugo leaned over Catherine's bed and pressed a kiss on her forehead. As he passed Alys he laid a hand on her shoulder. 'Save my son,' he said in an undertone. 'Nothing in the world is more important than that.'

Alys did not even look at him. 'Of course,' she said curtly.

Hugo's pat on her shoulder was that of a man to a trusted comrade. Alys, remembering his hands cupped on her breasts as he thrust her towards Catherine's smothering embrace, shot him an angry glare, but he was looking at Catherine. He did not even see her.

'Give her something to ease her pain,' he said softly. 'She's being very brave. I'll be outside all the time. I'll come in if she wants me.' 'Certainly,' Alys said frigidly.

Hugo led the way out of the room, the women scuttling after him. 'Shall I stay?' Eliza asked.

'What could you do?' Alys asked cruelly. 'You know nothing. What use could you be? Tell them to bring the chest of my things from my room.'

Catherine moaned again and Alys went swiftly to her side.

'What sort of pain is it?' she asked. 'Like opening,' Catherine gasped. 'Like opening up and splitting. Alys, help me!'

There was a tap at the door. Two serving-men came into the room carrying Alys' chest of herbs and oils, put it gently on the floor and went out. Alys opened the chest and took out a twist of powder in a piece of paper. 'On the right side or on the left?' she asked. Catherine groaned again. 'All over,' she said. 'I feel strange, Alys. As if this were not me. I feel in the grip of something else.'

'Open your mouth,' Alys said. Deftly she tipped the powder down Catherine's throat and then held a glass of water for her to sip. At once Catherine's colour came back into her cheeks and she breathed a little more easily.

'What can it be, Alys?' she asked. 'It's something wrong with the baby, isn't it?'

'It's coming before its time,' Alys said. 'Could you have been mistaken with the dates, Catherine? You are only nearing your seventh month. It should not come yet.'

Catherine gasped as another pain seized her. 'I could be, I could be,' she said. 'But not two or three months wrong. There's something wrong. I can feel it!'

'What can you feel?' Alys asked urgently. Hidden away at the back of her mind was the thought that perhaps Catherine's pregnancy was going wrong. That the child would not be born, or would not be a son. Or would be born dead. Or if Catherine were to die…

‘I feel strange,' Catherine said. Her voice sounded unreal, as if she were calling from a long way away. 'Help me, Alys! You love me dearly I know! Help me, Alys! I feel as if the child is slipping out of me, melting and slipping away!'

Alys stripped back the covers. Catherine's plump, puffy legs were stained with veins of blue, flushed pink with heat. Alys pulled up Catherine's shift with reluctance and peered at her. The lower sheet was stained with a pale, creamy juice.

'Is this your waters? Have your waters broken?' Alys asked.

Catherine shook her head, her body twisted as a spasm of pain took her. ‘I don't know, I don't think so,' she said. ‘I have had nothing but this oozing.'

'No blood?' Alys asked.

'No,' Catherine said. 'Alys, keep the baby inside me. I can feel it melting.'

Alys pulled Catherine's shift down and rested her hand on Catherine's round belly. 'You are being foolish,' she said firmly. 'Foolish and hysterical. Babies do not melt. I can see you are in pain and I can help you bear your pain; but there is no blood and your waters have not broken. Your baby is still inside you and he is well. Babies do not melt.'

Catherine started up on the bed, half-supporting herself with her arms. She glared at Alys and her face was wild, her hair tossed around her face, her eyes bulging. 'I tell you he is melting!' she screamed. 'Why won't you listen to me, you fool! Why won't you do as I tell you! Do something to make the baby safe! He is melting. I feel him melting! He is melting inside me and slipping away!'

Alys pushed Catherine back down on the pillows and held her hard by the shoulders. 'Hush,' she said roughly. 'Hush. That cannot be, Catherine. You are mistaken. You are gibbering nonsense.'

She rested her hand on Catherine's rounded belly and then snatched it away again in instinctive horror. Catherine gave another groan. 'I told you,' she wept.