The Gallows Curse

Two Days after the Full Moon,

September 1211



Apples — If fruit and flower appear on the same branch it is an omen of death. For the Celts believe that in Paradise the hills are covered with apple trees that bear fruit and flowers together.

When plucking the fruit, some apples must always be left on the tree for the faerie folk and the spirits of the grove.

On Twelfth Night, all in the village must assemble at dusk bringing with them their iron pots and tools and choose one apple tree to stand for all. And to that tree all present must drink its health in cider and pour cider over the roots and hang bread soaked in cider in the branches. The lowest twigs are dipped in cider and men must bow down three times and rise staggering as if they bear a heavy sack of apples on their backs. Then must all the villagers bang their iron tools together to make as much noise as they can, to awaken the spirits of the tree, so that they will stir the trees to life and bring a good harvest.

Apples cure melancholia and eating an apple at midnight on All Hallows Eve will guard against colds for a year. At Samhain each unwed mortal standing around the fire whirls an apple on a piece of string. Whoever's apple falls first shall be married within the year, but the one whose apple falls last shall die unwed. If a maid would know if her lover is true, she should lay apple pips around the fire; if the pips burst with a pop her lover is faithful, but if they shrivel and burn silently her lover is deceiving her.

The Mandrake's Herbal





St Michael's Day



Lanterns were being hung all around the brothel garden, though it was not yet noon. Garlands of late flowers were being sprinkled hourly with cold water from the well to keep them fresh, but their perfume was fighting a losing battle against the spices and herbs of the pastries, honeyed fruits, roasting geese, baked meats and syllabubs, which were being stirred, basted and dressed in the kitchens. Low tables had been set ready beside the seats and turf banks, and later, as it grew dark, they would be groaning with food and wine.

Ma had hired extra cooks for the day, for the older women were needed to strew fresh herbs among the rushes, drape cloths artfully over the dark corners to give an illusion of privacy where there was none, and above all to help the girls dress. It was the glorious feast of Michaelmas and Ma Margot was determined not to be outdone in her celebrations. She stood back, hands on hips, gazing up with satisfaction at the centrepiece she had commissioned for her garden. It was a wooden life-sized statue of a standing naked woman with angel wings. One hand was cupped invitingly around her plump painted breast and the other pressed coyly between her open legs.

Even Elena found it impossible not to be caught up in the merriment of the women around her. She had been busy all morning hanging fruits from the trees and bushes where any might pluck them. Red cherries hung in bunches from the birch tree, apricots grew from rose bushes and dozens of rosy apples ripened on the willow tree in the very centre of the garden, as was only fitting in such a garden of delights.

Luce beamed at her as she passed her with an armful of newly aired clothes, blood-red for the devils and diaphanous white gowns made to resemble angels' raiment with tiny wings fashioned from real swans' feathers.

'You chosen what you're wearing tonight, Holly?'

Elena's stomach lurched. A cloud had passed over the sun.

'But I'm not. . . entertaining.'

Luce gave her the sort of half-puzzled, half-amused look that adults reserve for small children who've said something ridiculous.

'Course you are. Every woman and boy will be at the festivities, even the older women join in. You wait, tonight there'll be more men in here than weevils in a sack of grain. They come from miles around. A few girls get bedded, but mostly it's just flirting, dancing and getting drunk, like any regular saint's day.

'Ma reckons it brings in the new customers, specially the young lads too shy to come aknocking on the door. Lets them see there's nothing to be afeared of. They can pick a girl that takes their fancy, have a quick fumble and a few kisses. It whets their appetite, see, and that's not the only thing it wets, if you get my drift.' Luce giggled. 'They'll go home with only one thing on their minds — when can they come back and give it to her properly? She knows her business, does Ma.'

'But Ma said I was only to serve the special customers.'

'Everyone's special tonight, besides, like I say, you don't have to do anything except flirt. You can do that, can't you? And if one of them tries to go a bit too far and you don't fancy it, just give him a playful slap or tell him you're going to fetch some wine and then go and talk to someone else. Mind you, you want to be careful, that can make some of them keener than if you let them have their grope and get it over with.'

Seeing the anxious expression on Elena's face, she added, 'Look, just keep pouring the wine and cider down them; a few glasses of that and they'll not be able to get it up, much less find where to put it if they do. You ever watched a drunk try to get his finger in a latch-hole? Come on, choose your costume soon else the best ones will be gone.'

Luce swept off towards the sleeping quarters where, judging by the giggles inside, the girls were already waiting to claim their gowns.

Elena picked up a bunch of grapes and wandered over to the turf seat to find a place to hang them. It wouldn't be so bad, would it, if it was only what Luce had said? After all, at the feast days back in the village, that's what they'd all done, danced and flirted a little. Wasn't that where she'd first noticed how handsome Athan was, when she saw him with a group of lads at the feast, and observed how every time she'd glanced in his direction, he seemed to be looking at her?

Luce said they came from miles around. Suppose, just suppose Athan was to come here tonight. He might if Master Raffaele had told him where she was. It would be his chance to see her without risk of betraying her hiding place. Elena hugged herself in delight.

Then just as suddenly she was seized by fear as another thought struck her. If Athan knew where she was then he knew she was in a brothel. She had grown so used to living in this place, she had forgotten how it would appear to Athan and his mother, Joan, even to her own mother. Athan would think she was a common whore, that she'd given herself to other men. He'd be disgusted. What if he came and told her he despised her, and that he never wanted to see her again? She couldn't bear that. She couldn't let him find her here.

'Will he come tonight?' a small voice whispered beside her. Looking down, she saw Finch squatting behind the turf seat. For a moment she thought he meant Athan, then she saw the misery etched in his face.

The boy tugged at her skirts. 'The werecat? Holly, will he come back for me?'

It was on her lips to say no, to reassure and soothe the child, but she stopped herself. Once before she had told him everything would be all right, but it had been far from all right, and she knew Finch had been hurt much more by that false promise from her than by anything Hugh had done to him. The slashes on his arms were healing well, but the scars would remain as long as he lived.

She stroked the pale golden curls. 'I don't know, Finch, I don't know if he will come, but there will be lots of people here. Everyone will be together in the garden. You won't be alone.'

'He could still take me to a room,' Finch said in a dead voice.

Elena knew that was true. Whatever Ma's plans, if any man dangled enough money in front of her, he would be able to buy whatever he wanted, she was sure of that.

Finch stared anxiously about him to see if they could be overheard, then he wriggled closer, staring up at her with a look of fierce determination.

'I'm gonna run away today.'

Elena shook her head. 'You can't, Finch, you'd never get past Talbot.'

'I know a different way out. I found it. In the cellars, there's another tunnel. Leads to a gate. It's a way out of here. Talbot doesn't watch that one. He thinks no one knows about it, 'cause it's hidden. But. . . but I can't open it myself. I know how to, I've seen Talbot do it, but I can't do it by myself. You could help me though. We could do it together, then we could both run away. You want to leave here too, don't you?'

Elena crouched down and looked into the child's face. 'We can't, Finch, it's too dangerous. You don't understand, there are people looking for me. I can't leave here. Besides, where would we go? How would we live?'

'I'm strong, I can work. Look!' Finch clenched his small fist, lifting his thin little arm to try to make the muscles bulge. 'I can earn money for us both and we could sleep in a barn. You remember, Holly. We shall be safe, diddle diddle, deep in the hay.'

He smiled up at her with the unshakeable confidence of a child, his eyes bright with excitement for the very first time she had known him.

She felt her own heart leap upwards. Why not? Why couldn't they just go? She didn't have to wait for Master Raffaele, why should she? He'd made it very plain that he had more important matters to attend to than her. Who knew when he'd come back, if he ever did? He probably had no intention of taking her away from this place. He had not protected her from Raoul. He'd allowed Ma to put her to work as a whore. Maybe, maybe Ma had even paid Raffaele for her. He certainly wasn't going to protect her from Hugh. Stay out of his way—those were the only words of comfort he'd offered. Only she could save herself now.

No one would recognize her with her dyed hair, besides which they'd probably long forgotten about the runaway serf. No one would be looking for a woman travelling with a boy. There were other towns, other cities. They could go anywhere.

Elena seized the boy's hands. 'Finch, are you sure about this? Are you sure the gate really leads to the outside, not just to another cellar?'

Finch's eyes were sparkling. 'I saw it. I looked out through the bars and saw a great river right outside. I could ... I could nearly touch it.'

His eager little grin only made him look smaller and more vulnerable. Could she really look after them both? She had worked ever since she could toddle, but she'd never in her life had to seek work. As a villein, she had merely done what others told her to do. She wasn't even sure how to go about finding a master or mistress. What if they started asking questions, demanding the parchment to prove that she was a free woman?

Did the boy understand what he might be facing out there? Winter would soon be here and if they couldn't find shelter they'd starve or freeze to death in some stinking alley like the other beggars. But at least if they ran, Finch would have a chance. She knew only too well what it was like to spend your days waiting in fear and dread. If Finch had been her son, she wouldn't hesitate.

Elena looked down at the boy. 'If we do run away, we won't be able to stay in Norwich. They'll come looking for us. Do you understand that? We'll have to walk, maybe a very long way, for days, weeks even.'

She realized that she had no idea what might lie beyond Norwich, nor even in which direction she should go. Not back to Gastmere, that was certain, even her dyed hair would not disguise her there. Gastmere lay down-river of Norwich, so they must walk upstream. But what lay upstream, another town, a marsh, a lake? She didn't know

Elena bit her lip. We might not be able to find food for days. And we'll be hungry and cold, but we'll have to keep moving no matter how tired we are or how many blisters we have on our feet. Are you sure you can do that?'

The light in Finch's eyes had not dimmed for an instant. 'I can, I can! I promise. Afore my uncle gave me to Talbot, I was hungry all the time and cold too, for I slept with the dogs. But I never cried. I promise I won't ever cry, even if I'm starving. Please, Holly, please let's go now, afore the werecat comes,' he begged, tugging on her hand.

'No, we can't go yet. Talbot or Ma might look for us, or go to the cellars to feed the animals. We'll have to wait until this evening, until everyone is busy, then we won't be missed. And we'll have all night to walk in the dark with less chance of anyone seeing us.'

'But what if the werecat comes afore we get away?'

'Ma won't let anyone in here until it's dark, not tonight.' Seeing the child's face crumple, she said quickly, You get whatever clothes and food you can, tie them in a bundle and hide them near the cellar door. But be careful no one sees you. Then tonight, once the feast has started, I'll meet you.. .' she stared around the garden trying to find a suitable place, 'over there.' She pointed to a large bush closest to the courtyard wall. 'Keep moving around, but keep watching that bush. I'll go there when I think it's safe. I'll nod to you. When you see my signal you creep along to the boys' chamber and make sure it's empty. If it is, go and hide in there till I come. Can you do that?'

Finch nodded eagerly and in a fit of joy suddenly hugged her, so fiercely that Elena thought he would never let her go.





The moon rose bright and fat, clad only in a few wisps of cloud. The evening star pierced the indigo sky, but few gazed upwards to see it as one by one the lanterns were lit in the brothel garden, misting the trees with soft yellow pools of light. The naked wooden angel now pissed wine that sprayed out in a graceful arc from between her spread legs whenever someone pressed her lusciously rounded breast. The older women bustled out from the kitchens, piling the tables with platters of food, but there were none of your dainty dishes and pewter goblets at this feast.

Flagons of mead, wine, ale and cider graced the little tables, surrounded by all manner of curious little vessels a man might wish to drink from: a polished goat's horn, a leather cup fashioned as a woman's shoe, or a breast-shaped pot from which he could suck his chosen libation through a hole in the rosy nipple.

There were other plump round breasts formed from curd tarts with cherry nipples, which nuzzled alongside goose-filled pastries shaped like men's cocks which squirted thick rich gravy into the mouths of the biters. Custards were moulded into buttocks, with rosehip jelly syrups dribbling between their fat cheeks. Breads were baked into curvaceous torsos. Brawn became shapely legs and arms, whilst rosewater pudding was moulded into sweet red lips. Pike in galentyne was formed into a female belly, with strands of green samphire dripping with melted butter artistically arranged as her pubic hair. In short, every part of the human anatomy that a man could desire was fashioned in sweet or savoury, salt or sour to whet his appetite.

As soon as a good crowd of men were gathered, the crowning glory of the feast was borne in to a loud rattle of drums from the musicians who at once struck up a lively tune. Not for these gentlemen a cooked duck artfully disguised as a living peacock. No, a man could see exactly what meats he was being offered here. A giant penis had been created by stuffing larks inside a boned chicken, the chicken in a goose, the goose in a heron. At one end, on either side of the long thick sausage of meat, two sheep's stomachs had been packed with mutton, beef and pork until they were as round and taut as the rising moon. And, in honour of the Archangel Michael whose feast it was, two goose wings were attached on either side as if the whole creation was in flight.

The four women who bore in the flying genitals on a great wooden board swooped and swerved in a mocking dance, wafting the tip past the girls with cries of 'You think you can stretch to this one, Annie?' 'Now this'll give you something to get your teeth into, girl.' The men roared their appreciation.

All over the garden, men and youths were lounging in twos or threes. Girls were sprawled across their laps, feeding them meats and pastries from their own fair fingers, dripping with juice or sauces, which the men sucked at like infants at their mother's knee. A few men and women were dancing to the bawdy songs of the musicians, while others joined in the choruses, bellowing like bulls near cows in heat, with much enthusiasm but precious little melody.

A few couples had already retreated behind the gauze hangings, clearly wanting privacy for their passions. But the customers, unlike the brothel girls, were oblivious to the fact that the artfully placed lanterns threw every twist and turn of their antics as giant shadows on to the walls, much to the amusement and delight of those watching the play.

Elena tried to keep to the corners of the garden as much as possible, and whenever a man did try to catch hold of her, she slipped away on the pretext, as Luce had advised, of fetching him a drink or some food, but never returning. She gazed anxiously round for Finch. She saw the other boys who were plainly enjoying the feast, stuffing themselves with food or sitting on men's knees, letting themselves be fondled while sipping wine from the men's own goblets. But of Finch there was no sign.

She was so preoccupied with searching for him that she didn't notice Luce heading purposefully in her direction until it was too late. Luce was leading a young man by the hand who could have been scarcely more than thirteen or fourteen summers. To Elena, a woman at sixteen, he was a mere boy.

'Here we are then,' Luce said in a motherly tone, thrusting the blushing youth at Elena. 'This is Holly, she'll take care of you.'

Seeing that Elena was about to make some excuse, Luce leaned forward and hissed, 'You best take this one. Ma's watching you and if you don't take him, she's liable to fix you up with someone herself. Besides, this one'll do no more than stare, poor lamb. He's not a clue what it's for, except to piss with, and I doubt he's even learned to do that straight yet.'

The lamb in question must have heard her, for he blushed even more furiously and chewed his knuckle. Elena glanced across the garden. On a high gilded chair placed against one wall Ma was following the proceedings with the intensity of a hunting hawk. With a flick of her jewelled fingers, she motioned girls towards the shy, the elderly or the ugly who were gazing at the more fortunate men and their giggling lovers with hungry expressions.

Ma's black hair gleamed with a dozen gold pins, each inlaid with emerald-green glass that glinted in the candlelight so that it seemed as if a dozen eyes blinked out of the dark nest. She wore a long, viper-green cloak trimmed with sable which, though greasy and a little worn, still looked lustrous in the flattering light of the lantern. It must once have been made for a lady of normal height and Ma had arranged it around herself so that it covered her legs and fell to the floor. Thus enthroned, anyone who did not know her would think her the height of any other woman.

Ma's head was turned towards Elena. At this distance she could not be sure Ma was watching her, but she could take no chances. Elena forced a smile and asked the young lad if it was his first time here.

He nodded, staring at her chest, though Elena couldn't decide if that was lust or that he was merely too shy to look her in the face.

'My brother brought me. Said it was high rime I ... my brother's had hundreds of girls,' he finished lamely. He gave a jerk of his head over to where three gangling young men were all but hidden under the buxom girls who sat on their laps, nuzzling their faces.

'I'm sure he hasn't had as many as he boasts,' Elena said. She led the youth to a pallet placed under one of the trees that she had earlier decorated with fruit and plucked a few grapes from the bunch. Sitting beside him, she tried to feed him the grapes one at a time as she'd seen the other women do, but whereas other men would have lain back and made a sensuous game of it, the lad hunched forward, allowing her to stuff the grapes into his mouth, with no more pleasure than a fretful infant allowing a mother to spoon gruel into him.

'You . . . you can touch me, if you want,' Elena said reluctantly, but knowing she must do something.

She gazed around, searching the garden for Finch. Where was he? They must go soon. They needed as many hours of darkness as they could get to put distance between them and Norwich. What if they couldn't find a way out of the town? She knew some towns had gates. They hadn't passed through a gate when they'd entered, but that was because they'd come by boat. Could you simply march out of the city? She realized she had no clear idea of where they were in Norwich, only a hazy recollection of walking through a maze of streets to get here. Finch said the tunnel in the cellar came out near a river. If they followed the river, it must lead —

'Where?'

She was startled by the voice. 'Where what?'

You said I could touch you,' the young lad said. 'Where ' should I...'

Elena stared at him blankly. Finally in desperation she muttered, Why don't you kiss me instead?'

He threw himself at her, pressing his lips tightly against hers. He began to move his mouth in a vague chewing action. His hot, sweaty hands grabbed at her neck as he tried clumsily to pull her tighter.

Staring over his shoulder, Elena suddenly froze. A man was sauntering across the garden towards Ma Margot. She was certain she knew the walk, but as he passed by one of the trees, the full light of the lantern shone on his face. It was Hugh.

The lad had given up his attempt at kissing and had tentatively slid a hand on to her kirtle over her breast, but Elena was too scared even to register this. She watched in horror as Hugh reached Ma's throne where, as if she really was a queen, he made a bow and pressed her hand to his lips. If this was mockery, Ma evidently didn't treat it as such, for she rewarded him with a smile and sent a girl scurrying for a goblet of wine and a plate of pastries.

It was evident that whatever she had intended when she said Hugh would pay dearly for what he had done to Finch, she wasn't going to let it interfere with business. From the way she leaned towards him as she fed him one of the prick- shaped pastries, slipping it into his mouth with her own taloned fingers, you might have thought he had never laid a hand on Finch. No doubt, Elena thought bitterly, what Ma meant was that she would simply double or treble the price, because Hugh had damaged her goods, but she'd still let him use her boys as he pleased.

Finch! Any moment Hugh might ask for him. Elena pushed the lad's hand away.

'Stay there,' she said, trying to sound as casual as possible. 'I'll fetch you some good strong wine to relax you, then I'll. . . we'll do things that will make your brother so jealous, he'll never laugh at you again.'

The boy beamed at her, and tried to lounge back nonchalantly on the pallet, but without success. Elena hurried to the bush she had pointed out to Finch earlier that day. She gazed desperately around for him, nodding in case he could see her. But there was still no sign of him. She could only pray he'd seen her and had already gone to the boys' chamber.

She waited as long as she dared, then when Ma was bending forward to say something to Hugh, she slipped back behind the bush and through the gate which divided the courtyard from the garden, edging along the wall towards the boys' chamber. There was no one in the courtyard. The sounds of the music mingling with laughter and chatter which rose up from the garden only seemed to heighten the stillness of the courtyard. The lanterns dangling from the topmost branches of the trees in the garden threw soft pools of light on to the flinty cobbles. Elena edged around the light as a man might avoid quicksand.

She had almost reached the door when she saw someone else enter the courtyard by the gate. Footsteps hurried across. Elena froze, suddenly realizing that she could not offer any explanation as to why she was standing in front of the boys' chamber. She started back towards the gate at a run and collided with Luce coming towards her.

'Hey, steady there.' Luce grabbed Elena's arm to stop herself slipping on the cobbles. 'You seen Finch? Ma wants him, but I reckon the lad's hiding somewhere, doesn't want to be found.'

Elena shook her head, unable to trust herself to speak.

Luce groaned. 'There'll be hell to pay if I can't find him. Ma won't want any of her guests disappointed tonight, specially him. That gentleman's not the type to go quietly if he can't get what he wants, and Ma doesn't need a bear roaring through the beehives, not tonight. I'd best see if Finch is in the boys' chamber.'

This time it was Elena who caught her arm. 'No, don't waste your time. He's not in there. I was looking for him too and I checked there. You know Finch, he's always hungry. Why don't you check the kitchens? He's probably hanging round the cooks. I'll look in the sleeping quarters.'

'Kitchens, yes, you're right. With that pretty little face of his, he could wheedle food from the king's own plate. Those cooks are probably stuffing him like a capon.'

She turned to go, then looked back at Elena. 'I know you feel sorry for the lad, Holly, but if you find him, you'd best take him to Ma straight away, even if he begs you not to. It'll be worse for him in the long run if he makes a fool out of her. She doesn't take kindly to that. You've not seen Ma in a rage and you'd best pray to every saint in heaven, and the Devil too, that you never do.'

Elena waited until Luce was out of sight, then ran back to the boys' chamber and slipped inside. It was as dark as a grave, for the boys were not expected to entertain in there tonight and not even the fire had been lit in the pit. She groped her way forward, using the partitions between the stalls as her guide. When she judged herself almost at the back of the room, she called out Softly, 'Finch, Finch, are you there? It's me, El. .. Holly.'

Almost at once she felt a small cold hand slip into hers.

'Where have you been? I've waited ages and ages. I thought you weren't coming.'

'I'm here now.' She squeezed the little fingers gently. 'Can you find the door in the dark?'

'Course I can.' He sounded more confident than she'd ever heard him, just like any cocky little village boy. She felt his body taut beside her, but knew from his tone and the urgent tugging of his hand that his tension came from excitement, not fear. She guessed he hadn't seen Hugh arrive. He didn't know they were looking for him.

She swallowed hard. 'We must hurry, Finch, there isn't much time.'

They found the burning torch half-way down the cellar steps as before and Elena lifted it out of its bracket. Although she knew exactly what to expect now, still that raw stench of savage beasts made her stomach contract. She dreaded passing them. Would Finch be able to walk past that great cat after what had happened? But he didn't turn towards the cages. Instead he tugged her towards the side of the stairs and the open hole in the floor with its hollow drip, drip of water.

'Careful,' Finch warned.

He pulled her back against the wet slimy wall as they inched around it. The slippery flags beneath Elena's feet sloped at a perilous angle towards the great black hole. Finally they reached the back of the staircase. Finch darted forward and grabbed at something. Elena held up the burning torch and saw a thick piece of sacking hanging against the wall. Finch held it aside and at once a new smell of mud and rotting fish billowed towards them on an icy current of air. In front of them was a tunnel, sloping downwards away from the cellar. Like the other, it curved round, so that Elena couldn't see the end.

'Down there, that's the river and the gate,' Finch whispered.

Elena suddenly remembered the blazing torch in her hands. Once they reached the end of the tunnel anyone on the river or the bank would see its flame for miles in the darkness.

'Finch, we have to put the torch back. If Talbot comes and finds it missing he'll guess someone is down here.'

Elena knew she should be the one to replace the torch in its bracket on the stairs, but she couldn't go back there, not if it meant returning here in the dark. She was terrified that one false step and she would fall into that hole. Without a light, how could she even see where it was?

Finch hesitated, but only for a minute. 'You stay here. I can find my way in the dark. Done it hundreds of times.' But his voice was trembling.

She wanted to stop him. She knew that she should, but she couldn't. She let him take the torch from her hands.

You'll stay here, Holly, won't you?' he begged her. You promise you won't go without me? You'll wait for me?'

As the boy slipped under the sacking, Elena stood rigid in a darkness so thick that it seemed to suck the very air from her mouth. She pressed herself against the dripping wall. She was back in that pit, next to Gerard's coffin, chained by the neck, screaming and screaming and yet knowing that not a sound was escaping from her lips. Again she heard the grating of the trapdoor opening and Raffaele's voice calling to her, Raffaele's hand bringing her light and freedom. What would he say when he found her gone? He had told her time and again to trust him, and everything which had gone wrong in her life had been because she hadn't gone to him, hadn't trusted him.

Elena tried to force the memories down, to silence Raffaele's voice in her head. Above her, even now, Luce was searching for Finch, Talbot too probably, and maybe others. Hugh would be growing impatient. It would only be a matter of time before Ma sent Talbot to search the cellars. Elena shivered. It was so cold down here. Where was Finch? Suppose he'd fallen into that hole or was standing in the darkness, too frightened to move? What if he couldn't find the entrance to the tunnel? She would have to go out there. She'd have to find him.

Elena felt a cold waft of air on her skin as the sacking curtain moved.

'Holly, Holly, where are you?' Finch sounded terrified.

'Here, I'm here.' She thrust out her hand, feeling round until she touched something warm. Finch seized her hand, then threw his arms about her waist, pressing his face into her belly in a frantic hug.

'I heard someone calling for me up there,' he whispered. 'Are they looking for me?'

'Come on,' Elena urged. 'Quickly!'

Moving her hand along the slimy wall, they edged down the passage. Several times they both slipped on the wet stones beneath their feet, but they managed to steady each other. At last, as they came round the curve of the tunnel, Elena felt a breeze on her face and saw before them the thick iron bars of a gate glinting in a shaft of moonlight.

On the other side of the iron grid, three steps led down to the water's edge. Stretching out in front of them was the broad river; black and oily in the silver light, it twisted and writhed as it rushed past them. Moored along either bank were the dark humps of boats. Here and there the red glow of a small brazier on a boat's deck, or the yellow smudge of a lantern hanging from a mast or prow, showed that their owners were spending the night on board, but most of the little craft rocked at their moorings, black and silent. On the far side of the broad river more fires burned outside a small cluster of wooden shacks, but beyond that was darkness.

Finch pointed to a rope hanging from the roof of the tunnel. 'See, you have to pull that and the gate comes up, but it goes down as soon as you stop pulling'

Elena grasped the thick rope and tugged. It took all her strength to make the grid swing upwards just the span of her hand, but as soon as she slackened her grip, it fell back into place with a crash that echoed through the tunnel. She and Finch both froze, holding their breath, but they heard nothing except the rushing water.

Elena looked around, her heart thumping in her chest. Time was running out. There had to be a way to keep the gate open. She searched both sides around her. Then she saw a metal bar, jutting out high up on the wall. When the gate was raised fully, it should be possible to loop the rope over the bar and hold it open, but they'd never be able to close it behind them. They'd have to pray that no one came down here for hours.

'Finch, listen to me. As soon as I lift the gate, you get under it and scramble up the bank beside the steps.'

'But you're coming with me. You promised.'

'I will, I will, but you have to go first. Go as soon as I tell you. Are you ready?'

Finch nodded. Elena planted her feet wide and grabbed the rope in both hands. She heaved. The heavy iron gate lifted a few inches. She pulled harder, the rough fibres of the rope biting into her hands. The gate lifted a little higher.

Then she heard it, faintly but unmistakably, a man's voice calling from somewhere behind her.

'Finch! Answer me, you little brat! Finch!'

Finch heard it too and turned. In the moonlight she could see his eyes wide with terror.

She heaved on the rope with all her strength and the gate rose just another few inches. 'Now, Finch, now! Crawl under. Go on quickly. I can't hold it.'

Finch hesitated, then as the voice above them called again, he dropped to his knees and slithered under the gap. It took all Elena's remaining strength not to let the gate fall with a crash; she eased it down as slowly as she could, but even so iron fell back on to stone with a dreadful clang.

Finch threw himself against the closed gate with a wail. 'Holly, Holly, open it! Open it! You can do it.'

Behind her, Elena heard Talbot's voice again, nearer this time. 'Finch, you'd best come out now, lad, or Ma'll flay the hide from your back and worse. Come on, lad, no use hiding, you know I'll find you.'

Finch cringed, but he still thrust his arm through the bars, trying to touch Elena.

'Please, Holly, please,' he begged. 'Open the gate. Let me back. I'm scared. I don't want to be out here. Let me back in, please.'

Elena crossed to the gate and took his cold little hands in hers.

'I can't, Finch. I can't. That man, that werecat has come back. You have to go. It's not safe for you here.' She reached through the bars, stroking his mop of soft curls.

'Listen to me, Finch. You have to be a brave boy. You must get on to the bank and follow the river. Keep walking all night, and when daylight comes find a place to hide and sleep. Then walk again when it gets dark. Walk until you are a long way from here. When you reach another village or town, then you can look for work. But, whatever you do, don't trust the boatmen. Don't let them see you. Too many of them come here. They might recognize you or Ma might ask them to find you.'

'But Holly, how are you going to escape?'

'Don't worry about me. I'll find a way out, you see if I don't.'

Talbot was bellowing again, fury in his voice. The caged beasts were snarling and hurling themselves at their bars, disturbed by his shouting.

She pulled her hands away. 'Go, Finch, go quickly! Talbot is coming.'

The boy stood motionless, his little fists gripping the bars. His face was ghost white in the moonlight, and silver tears were running down his cheeks.

Elena softly began to sing.



Lavender's green, diddle diddle, Lavender's blue.

You must love me, diddle diddle, 'cause I love you.



'Remember, Finch, always remember.'

As she resolutely turned away, her throat tight with tears, she thought she heard a soft echo behind her, a tremulous, broken little voice that might almost have been the sobbing of the river.



Let the birds sing, diddle diddle, let the lambs play,

We shall be safe, diddle diddle, deep in the hay.



She did not turn round.

Elena groped her way back up the slope as quickly as she could. She was desperate to reach the cellar before Talbot could come down the passage. She had to stall him long enough for Finch to get clear. She only prayed that the boy had the sense to run and was not still standing there. 'Blessed Virgin, look after him, keep him safe.'

It seemed much longer going up that tunnel than going down. She began to fear that she had taken a wrong turn, but there was no turn. She dragged her hand along the wall, feeling her way. The other she stretched out in front of her, to feel for the sacking curtain. She could still hear Talbot. He wasn't calling now, but cursing and muttering as he poked among the cages. The animals snarled, hurling themselves at their cages to drive away his unsettling light and defend their own tiny territory.

Something brushed lightly over her hand, and she almost yelled out until she realized it was the piece of sacking. She slid from behind it, keeping herself pressed against the wall as she edged round in the darkness. Talbot must be at the far end of the other passage for there was no light from the torch, unless he had given up and left.

Without warning, her shoe, slippery from the mud in the tunnel, shot out from under her and she crashed back against the wall, sliding down it. She scrabbled to find a footing, but there was nothing, nothing beneath her feet. She was sliding down the slope of the floor. She was falling into the hole. She thrashed wildly, trying to find something to hold on to, but her cold hands encountered only the smooth wet flagstones. She screamed, her legs kicking into the black empty space.

Light suddenly blinded her and even as she blinked her eyes, she felt a rough hand grab her wrist and yank her up so hard she cried out again, this time in pain. But with her other hand she managed to grasp a booted ankle and she hauled herself into a sitting position. Still holding on to the thick, sturdy legs, she clung there, shaking with terror.

Talbot hauled her to her feet.

'Another inch and you'd have been dead, lass,' Talbot said gruffly. He pushed his misshapen nose close to hers. 'So, what you doing skulking down here?'

She could smell his hot, sour breath, but tried not to turn her face away. 'I ... I was hiding. I didn't want to ... entertain the men.'

'Is that so?'

He held the blazing torch up so close to her head that she was afraid he was going to burn her. She still had her back to the hole and dared not wrench herself away in case she fell again. He peered behind her at the corner of the stairs. 'I reckon Ma's right, you have found a way out of here.'

It was on the tip of her tongue to deny it, but then she saw it was useless. 'I did find a gate, but I couldn't open it. It's too heavy.'

He stared at her for several moments and his eyes narrowed. Then he lowered the torch. 'You seen that boy, Finch?'

Elena swallowed. 'He was heading towards the kitchens last time I saw him.' She knew Luce would have already checked there, but at least it was the opposite direction to the cellar.

'Aye, well, he's not there now,' Talbot growled. 'That bastard'll not be kept waiting much longer. Ma'll feed us to the beasts if we don't find the brat soon.'

Elena left Talbot continuing to search the cellar. She knew he would check the gate and she prayed with all her strength that Finch would have had the courage to run before Talbot went down that passage.

Elena raced back to the sleeping chamber. She only had one thought in mind. She had to buy enough time for Finch to get far enough away. If they discovered he was not here, and Talbot mentioned finding Elena in the cellar, it wouldn't take Ma a fingersnap to realize what had happened and send Talbot to search the river bank for him. Elena had to divert them.

She stripped off her own muddy kirtle and dashed cold water on her face and arms. She looked wildly around. An angel's gown still lay across one of the pallets. It was old and slightly torn, which was why the other women had rejected it. She pulled it on. It had been made for a woman twice her weight and height. The front hung loose in a low sweep, exposing most of her breasts.

She dared not delay, but ran out and across the garden. To her alarm she saw Talbot making his way across to Ma from the other side. She had to reach Ma first. She was half-way across when the young lad she'd abandoned stepped out in front of her, eyeing her new costume with a mixture of undisguised drooling and the kind of acute embarrassment that he might feel if his mother caught him with his hand up a woman's skirt.

'Are you . . . did you get some wine?' he finished lamely, evidently not having given up hope, even after all this time, that she would keep her promise.

'I'll be back,' she said, pushing past him, feeling desperately sorry for him as she heard the snorts of laughter and jeers from the boy's brother and his friends. But she could do nothing for the lad, except hope that one of the other girls would take pity on him.

She reached Ma just before Talbot. Hugh was sitting in a carved chair beside her. Ma was evidently trying to keep him occupied by talking, but he had long since given up any pretence of politely listening. His jaw was set hard, and he seemed only a breath away from venting his fury at being kept waiting.

Ma's yellow-green eyes widened in alarm as Elena, grabbing a flagon from the nearest table, gave a low curtsy.

'May I refill your goblet, sir?' Without waiting to be asked, she bent forward, deliberately letting the front of her gown fall open inches from his face. She'd no idea if this would please him, but she'd seen the other girls do it often enough to know it seemed to excite most men.

She straightened up. She could see at once that Hugh was not as easily witched as the village lads, but all the same she had caught his attention. He was eyeing her with the same puzzled curiosity as that night when she dressed Finch. Ma must have seen the look too for as Talbot approached, she quietly signalled to him to stay back.

'Well, now. If it isn't the feisty little black-haired maid . . . Holly. Isn't that what the lad called you? If I remember rightly you challenged me. Told me I was frightening the boy.'

Elena swallowed hard. 'He was afraid, sir.'

'And you? Are you afraid of me? I think you are not, or you wouldn't come marching up to me, flaunting yourself.'

He ran his fingers lightly over her breasts and Elena gave an involuntary shudder, flinching away. She recovered herself, but she knew Hugh had felt it.

His mouth curled in a slow smile. 'Or could it be that you enjoy a little fear? You get a thrill out of poking the stick in the lion's cage to rile it, see if it's really as dangerous as they say.'

He stood up so abruptly that Elena almost spilt the flagon of wine over them both. He inclined his head towards Ma Margot.

'I've changed my mind, mistress. Forget the boy. What's the pleasure in the hunt, if the quarry cowers in a corner waiting for the spear? A she-bear who turns and fights is far more challenging. There's good sport to be had in bringing her down.'

You, man,' he called to Talbot, who still hovered in the corner. Hugh tossed a small bag of coins at him. 'Take us to a room and see to it we are not disturbed.'

Even before Hugh had flung her into the chamber, Elena knew instinctively that all the arts of seduction that Luce and the other women had explained to her would only anger him: the playful words, the slow teasing strip, the slide on to his knee and soft caresses would have no effect on him.

Elena was terrified, but she knew the one thing she must not do was show it. She had to keep him occupied long enough for Finch to get away. She had to stand up to Hugh, that was what he wanted, and if she was to get out of here alive, she must give him what he wanted. Wasn't that the one thing Ma had taught her, give them what they want and survive? Nothing else matters but to survive.

Hugh stood on the other side of the chamber watching her, his arms folded. Between them was a bed that almost filled the chamber. It had been carved to look like a boat, with a high dragon prow. Ropes hung from its sides and sacks of raw wool were piled in a heap inside, layered so deep that you could dive in head first and come to no harm. The whole chamber smelled of sheep's fat and damp wool, like Athan always did when he returned from the shearing in Gastmere. Elena tried to swallow the hard lump rising in her throat.

Hugh prowled around her, looking at her from every angle. 'You know, I'm sure I've seen you before. I was certain the other night, but I just can't place ...'

'I used to work in the market place in Norwich,' Elena said quickly, falling back on the lie Ma had invented.

'So that other wench said, but I am not in the habit of buying either fish or women in market places. I have servants to fetch the one and I would not dream of soiling myself on the other.'

He pulled off his shirt. A band of sleek black fur was fastened around his waist. He stroked it and for a moment his expression became glazed as if he was listening to something in the far distance. The pupils of his eyes dilated so wide they looked like huge black holes in his skull. He slid a long knife from his belt and fingered the blade.

'Now, suppose you tell me the truth, or shall we make a game of it? A game that I think I shall rather enjoy, although I can't promise that you will.'