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why. Mistress Rowe had taken my place beside the hearth, and my

husband was leaning over her chair.

When she left I went to the little chest. My linen and pots were shut

within it. The key hung at Nicholas’s girdle.

“Give it me,” I said.

He set down his cup. “You might ask what brought Mistress Rowe

here.”

“Did her land come with her?”

“She wishes to speak of the pasture.”

“Then you had best marry the pasture. You spend more nights

thinking of it than of your wife.”

He came towards me so quickly that I struck my hip against the

table in stepping back. His hand stopped upon its edge. I hated

myself for having moved. I hated him for seeing it.

“Take care, Elspeth.”

I could smell the wine upon his breath. There was a loose thread

at his collar where I had promised to mend it. I had put the work

aside when Joan sent for me. Such a little thing to see while we

quarrelled; I wanted to put out my hand and tuck it away.

“You have not come to my bed in a month,” I said. “Am I to know

nothing of where you go?”

“You know where I am now.”

“Yes. Locking away the things I need because a man thanked me

where you could hear him.”

“Ward has said enough of you at the alehouse.”

“His wife lives. Would you have him sorry?”

“I would have him hold his tongue.”

“And me.”

He took the key from his girdle, but kept it in his hand. “You may

have this when you have done with the knots. No more women at