Inside, Cecily had no thoughts for Breton knights who could not speak English. She only had eyes for Gudrun. She found her sitting on a wall bench, partially screened by the looped-back sleeping curtain. The veil that covered Gudrun’s brown hair was drawn forward round her shoulders for modesty as her gown was unlaced at the front. She was discreetly suckling a newborn baby.

      Philip! Cecily hurried over, trying to disguise her eagerness. Philip was smaller than she had imagined, with a wrinkled face and an astonishing crest of thick dark hair. One tiny hand was splayed out on Gudrun’s breast, and his eyes were shut, but he was feeding strongly. Her brother. The rightful heir to Fulford Hall.

      ‘Lady Cecily!’ Gudrun’s gasp quickly turned into a smile of relief and welcome. ‘This is Philip.’

      Cecily dropped to her knees on the rushes and reached out to stroke the tiny head. ‘Oh, Gudrun. He’s beautiful.’

      Gudrun’s expression softened. ‘Isn’t he?’

      Another baby, a plump, rosy-cheeked bundle, was asleep in a reed basket by Gudrun’s feet. Gently, Cecily stroked a chubby little foot that was sticking out of its coverlet. ‘And this? Who is this?’ She tucked the cover back in place.

      Gudrun smiled. ‘That is my Agatha.’

      ‘Agatha. She is lovely too.’

      Cecily’s gaze was drawn back to her brother. And while she struggled with yet more tears Gudrun lowered her voice. ‘I’m right glad you are come, my lady. Wilf and I have been afraid with these—’ she jerked her eyes in the direction of Richard and his companions by the central hearth ‘—come here. Afraid of what they might do. Not knowing what would be best for this little one—whether to stay, or go like your sister. But with you home…you will know what to do. You will stay, won’t you, my lady?’

      ‘Yes, I’m to marry Sir Adam.’

      Gudrun’s eyes widened, and she looked at Cecily’s habit, at the wooden cross on her breast. ‘You, dear?’

      Cecily had to smile. Gudrun had not changed, thank the Lord. Sometimes she would remember, and call Cecily by her title, but more often a simple ‘dear’ would suffice. Cecily would have had it no other way.

      A shadow fell across the entrance. Adam. He’d removed his chainmail and sword, and a plain green tunic covered those broad shoulders; a belt with a silver buckle encircled that slim waist. As Cecily had observed in the convent, he appeared slighter without his armour. His shape pleased her eyes. He was her enemy but, unlikely as it seemed, she liked looking at him. It was most disorientating. He marched to the fire, holding his hands out to the blaze. Nail-bitten fingers, she recalled. Sir Richard addressed him and Adam answered, even as his eyes roamed the room and came to rest on her.

      He always does that when he enters a room and I am already there. He looks for me. He watches me. And I do not think it is because I please his eyes—no, he is suspicious of me. I must be on my guard, for Philip’s sake.

      ‘Well, I don’t know,’ Gudrun was saying. ‘I thought you were promised to God. But, since your sister would have none of him, perhaps it’s for the best.’

      ‘Yes. I…I think so. Tell me how things stand at Fulford.’

      Gudrun rattled on, bringing Cecily up to date: Lufu the cook had vanished; they were short of butchered meat; Gudrun and her husband Wilf needed help with running the household as Marie, her mother’s maidservant, had been worse than useless since Lady Philippa’s death…

      While Gudrun talked, Cecily searched for changes in the Hall itself. The whitewashed walls, blackened by smoke from the central hearth, the lofty roof space, criss-crossed with dark oak beams—all were blessedly familiar. As was the curtained recess used as sleeping quarters by married couples in the Thane’s household since her grandfather’s time. Around the recess, the walls were dotted with storage chests and people’s bundles. Cloaks hung from wall pegs. Her mother’s tapestry brightened the south wall.

      Nothing was obviously out of place. Nothing appeared damaged. The world had been turned on its head in the past month, and the only fault that Cecily could find was that the clay floor was covered with rushes that smelt as though they had needed freshening weeks ago.

      ‘Gudrun?’ Cecily interrupted the flow of talk.

      ‘Yes, dear?’

      ‘No looting seems to have gone on.’

      Gudrun’s brow creased, ‘No,’ she agreed, her voice puzzled. ‘That’s true. I feared it might happen, but he—’ she looked past the fire at Adam ‘—keeps his men in order.’

      ‘What about my father’s wolfhounds? Where are they? Did Lightning and Greedy go with him to Hastings? And is Loki still with us?’

      ‘No, dear, Loki died last winter. But Thane Edgar left Lightning and Greedy behind to keep your mother safe. And they would have done so too, if she’d still been with us. You should have seen them when these foreigners rode in. I learnt then how a wolfhound can turn into a wolf.’

      Cecily caught her breath. ‘The dogs weren’t killed?’

      ‘No, dear. The new lord had them chained in the yard out back, by the stables.’ Gudrun gave a reminiscent grin. ‘Right carry-on there was—snarling, snapping. They’d have torn his throat out, given half a chance.’

      Glancing at the men by the fire, Cecily rose. ‘I’d better see to their needs.’

      Gudrun’s lips twitched. ‘Whose needs, dear? The men or the hounds?’

      ‘Both,’ Cecily said, on a laugh such as she’d not expected to make this day. ‘Oh, Gudrun, it is good to see you.’

      Gudrun’s veil quivered as she nodded agreement. ‘Aye, dear, so it is. Now be off with you—before yon lord wonders why a mere servant so commands your attention. Best keep them sweet. And our secret safe.’

      ‘Aye. No one has brought them refreshment yet. Where is Wilf? If Lufu is not to be found, he can give me a hand.’

      ‘Oh, no, dear. A wheel on the cart was wobbling, so Wilf took it to the smithy. He should be back any time.’

      ‘Marie, then. Surely she can help?’

      Gudrun made an impatient sound. ‘I’ve not seen her. Try the church. Since your mother went, rest her soul, Marie’s all but moved in there.’ She winked. ‘I expect Sigrida would be glad if you prised her out of there.’

      ‘Gudrun?’

      ‘Yes, dear?’

      ‘My pony…Cloud…?’

      Gudrun smiled. ‘Still here. Your father was thinking of selling her, but your mother wouldn’t hear of it. You’ll find her in the paddock.’

       Chapter Eleven

      Fearful that Adam might confront her directly over her visit to Leofwine’s house, Cecily spent the next few hours avoiding him. Initially that was not hard: there were old friendships to rekindle; there were rushes in need of replacing; there was Cloud and her father’s wolfhounds to look to…

      When she entered the cookhouse to take stock, the importance of keeping Adam and his troop well fed was large in her mind. Her contact with men might been scant of late, but she would never forget how ill-tempered her father had become if he’d missed a meal. It followed that Adam and his men were more likely to deal even-handedly with the villagers if they had full stomachs. Enemies of the Saxon people though they might be, it was in everyone’s interests that she gave them good meals.

      As Gudrun had warned her, there was no sign of Lufu, and the