The Bishop's Tale

Chapter Sixteen

The afternoon was wearing away, and Frevissemeant to talk to Guy and Lady Anne again, and to Jevan, too. Of everyone around Sir Clement he had gained the most – freedomfrom his uncle after a lifetime of his cruelties – and lost themost – his livelihood and his hope of Lady Anne; Guy would betaking both from him. Frevisse wanted to know how he was andwhat he was thinking, not simply because he was part of thequestion of Sir Clement’s death, but because he was a friend ofRobert’s, and she was fond of Robert, no matter how rarely they saweach other.

But duty and affection took her back to heraunt’s bedchamber first. The room was shadowed, the shuttersclosed, the bed curtains drawn. The women silently at varioustasks around the room made shushing gestures at her as sheentered. Alice, seated on the window seat with one shutterset a little back so light fell on the book on her lap, beckonedFrevisse to come sit beside her. The gentle puff and pause ofAunt Matilda’s breathing came from inside the bed curtains, intoken that she was deeply asleep.

“She woke a while ago,” Alice whispered, “andate some broth and milk-soaked bread.”

“And you were able to persuade her to sleepagain?”

Alice smiled. “Not so much persuaded asgave her no choice. There was a sleeping draught in the wineshe drank afterwards. Master Broun says the more she sleepsjust now, the better she’ll be.”

On that at least Frevisse agreed withhim. “What of you? If you want to go out for a while, Ican watch by her.”

Alice shook her head. “This is where Iwant to be, with Mother and my praying. I’m well enough.”

Aware that she had scanted her own prayersall day today, Frevisse glanced down and saw the book her cousinheld was indeed a prayer book, opened to the psalms in Latin. That reminded her of the Wyclif book in its bundle somewhere amongher things across the room. Taking her mind quickly away fromthe mingled guilt and pleasure of that thought, she asked, “Isthere anything you need done that I can do for you?”

“Mother was worrying over Sir Clement’sfamily, anxious that someone express our formal sympathy for theirloss. Would you go to them, to give them our sympathy, andexplain why neither Mother nor I came instead? I’d askWilliam to go but he won’t. He simply wants anything to dowith Sir Clement out from under his way.”

“I’ll do it gladly.” Frevisse forboreto add that she had been going to them anyway. “Though I fearthat neither they nor anyone else are over-moved by grief. Sir Clement wasn’t loved.”

“God keep us from a like end,” saidAlice. “It was a fearful thing to see, and to know he’dcalled it down upon himself.”

They both crossed themselves. ButFrevisse added, to lighten Alice’s mood, “Still, he’d worked longand hard for it, setting everyone else against him along theway.”

“That’s true,” Alice agreed with a trace ofamusement. “He even managed between Father’s death and hisown to set my lord husband against him with no greatdifficulty.”

“How?” Frevisse asked, surprised.

“By bringing up that property dispute he hadwith Father. He wouldn’t let it rest even this little whileof the funeral. William was furious over the rudeness, andbecause even though there’s no matter in it, the lawyers’ feeswould mount nonetheless, if it went that far.”

“I doubt there’s anyone who’s sorry he’sdead.”

“Certainly not William. Well, thecrowner will be here tomorrow, I hear, and that will be the end ofit. I trust Sir Clement’s family will leave with his bodyimmediately once they’re allowed to?”

“I understand so.”

“I’ve told Master Gallard to tell them we’llgive any help we can.”

“And please ask me for anything I can do, anytime.”

“Your prayers,” Alice said, smiling. “Surely your prayers are what I want most. And yourfriendship,” she added to her own evident surprise as much asFrevisse’s.

Frevisse smiled back at her, aware of growingaffection for this cousin she hardly knew. “You’ll have both,without fail. I think I should like to have your friendship,now that I’m not forever being annoyed by you,” she addedteasingly.

“Annoyed by me? How?” Alice demanded,amused as Frevisse had meant for her to be.

“Because you could sit for hours at yoursewing or whatever other task you mother gave you, and never makethe least bother about it. You always seemed very contentwith yourself, while I was ever wishing I were being or doingsomething else.”

“Except when you were reading,” Alice saidshrewdly.

“Except when I was reading,” Frevisse agreed,and they both laughed, were quickly shushed by Aunt Matilda’swomen, and ducked their heads to hide more laughter behind theirhands.

Then Alice confessed in a whisper, “I wasalways annoyed by you, too. You’d been everywhere and seeneverything, it seemed, and Father never seemed to mind how muchtime you spent among his books. It wasn’t until after youwere gone that I dared begin to press him as you did forbooks.”

“I never knew you were interested.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be. I was mymother’s daughter and there was the end of it.”

“But you didn’t let it be the end of it.”

“No,” Alice said firmly. “I didnot.”

Frevisse’s smile widened, “Oh, yes, I thinkwe can be very good friends indeed.”

Frevisse found Lady Anne alone in her room,except for her two maids, and like Alice, she was seated at thewindow, a book open on her lap, while her maids sorted throughbelongings in her traveling chest. The cold gray daylightgave her blond loveliness an ashen appearance, but even allowingfor that, she looked pale, delicately shadowed under her eyes as ifshe had not slept so well as could be wished.

Frevisse, as she approached her, wassurprised to see the book was another prayer book, and opened tothe Office of the Dead. Lady Anne, catching her glance andthe surprise in it, said, “I found myself wondering if there mightbe hope of Sir Clement’s salvation after all. I thought howunpleasant it would be to eventually arrive in Purgatory and findhim waiting for us.”

“I suspect that if Sir Clement manages to goso far as Purgatory, he’ll be far too busy with his own redemptionto trouble yours.”

Frevisse’s irony was lost on Lady Anne. She merely considered the thought for a moment, then answered, “Isuppose you're right.” She closed the book and tossed ittoward one of her maidservants. “Sit down, if youplease.”

Frevisse suspected that Lady Anne’s mannersdepended on her mood and possibly on the importance of whom she wastalking to, because no matter how young and vulnerable she looked,seated there pale in the winter light with the tender shadows underher eyes, she clearly had a strong core of self-will andself-interest that had small consideration for others beyond howthey affected her directly.

Frevisse sat, folded her hands into hersleeves, and said mildly, “I trust there is always hope of heavenfor all of us, even someone so outwardly without grace as SirClement.”

“It wasn’t merely outwardly. Hedelighted in the sorrows of others. Besides, God wouldn’thave struck him down like that if he weren’t deserving ofit.” Lady Anne said it flatly, with no particularvenom. Sir Clement being no longer a problem to her, shewould shortly have dismissed him completely from her life. But, probably in consideration of Frevisse, she added, “Though ofcourse we should hope the best for him. You’ve probably beenpraying for him. You’ve given your life over to such charityof spirit.”

“To the will of God, rather,” Frevissesaid.

Lady Anne drew her delicate brows together ina pretty frown. “It must be very strange to give yourself upso completely. To the will of your prioress, the will of yourabbott, the will of your bishop. I suppose you even have tolisten to the pope. You have no life of your own at all!”

“One grows use to it,” Frevisse said, amusedby the girl’s complete incomprehension. “Even to thepope. That is the core trouble with giving yourself up to thewill of God – it requires you also give yourself up to the will ofpeople who are not always godlike.”

“I suppose it makes you far more sure ofheaven,” Lady Anne said doubtfully. She obviously thought shewould find a better way to that goal than through so muchsacrifice. She was also growing a little bored with theconversation, fretting her white fingers at her skirts.

“Actually I’ve come from Countess Alice andher mother and husband, to bring you their deep sympathy for yourloss and assure you of any help that they can give during your stayhere.”

Lady Anne brightened. “How verykind. He’s important at court, isn’t he? The earl ofSuffolk? And much more charming than that dreadful Bishop ofWinchester.”

“I believe so, yes,” Frevisse said in generalanswer.

“But have you heard when the crowner issupposed to arrive? This waiting is terribly tedious.”

“Tomorrow for certain.”

“And then we can go home and be married andbe rid of everything that might ever remind us of SirClement! Won’t that be grand!”

“My lady?” Guy asked from the doorway.

The maidservants rose from their work tocurtsy to him. Lady Anne sprang to her feet and went to him,saying gladly, “Dame Frevisse came to offer us the family’scondolences on Sir Clement’s death, and she says the crowner willbe here certainly tomorrow. Then we’ll be able to gohome!”

“When he’s finished his questioning,”Frevisse reminded.

Lady Anne waved a dismissive hand. “There’s hardly anything to question. There’s Sir Clementdead and God did it. We all saw it.”

Frevisse had risen at Guy’s coming. Now, smiling in her best and most modest nun-wise, she satdown. Lady Anne cast her a look as if willing her tounderstand she could leave now and everyone would be pleased, butFrevisse feigned not to see it, and with no choice, they joinedher, Lady Anne’s displeasure somewhat showing. Frevissesmiled on them both and said, “My cousin the countess of Suffolkasked me to tell you that if there is aught we can do for you, youhave but to ask.”

As she expected, the mention of her cousinbrought Guy’s attention to her more respectfully. “Thank hergrace for her kindness. We’re doing very well. Everything considered,” he added, remembering there should be somegrief, if only for appearance’s sake. “Everything has beenseen to and is ready. As soon as the crowner givespermission, we’ll be able to leave.”

Judging by the warm glance that pass betweenhim and Lady Anne, he would have taken her hands then in the sharedpleasure of that coming freedom, if Frevisse had not beenthere.

She would have gladly left them to it, butshe still had questions she needed answered. “Was SirClement’s property all entailed, so it comes directly to you, orwill there be provisions in his will lessening theinheritance?”

“It’s all entailed,” Guy saidcheerfully. “He was too busy with his quarrels to spend timeextending his holdings. It all comes to me.”

“With surely some provision made for JevanDey as his only other relation. Jevan is his onlyother relative, isn’t he?”

“He is, but there’s no provision forhim. Sir Clement was clear about that all along.”

“But he served him so well, from what I’veheard and seen. Why, even at the funeral feast, no one butJevan waited on him. Or did they?”

“Only old Jevan.”

“Except for the wine. That was somebodyelse,” Lady Anne said

“He was pouring for everyone along that partof the table,” Guy said. “But the food, only Jevan broughtthat. Serviceable to the last, for all the good it will dohim. No, everything comes to me, and Jevan will have exactlywhat he’s earned all these years of licking Sir Clement’sboots.”

“And payment in full for putting you introuble with Sir Clement when he could,” Lady Anne added. “That beastly marchpane.”

“That, too,” Guy agreed.

“The marchpane?” Frevisse asked. “Youmentioned that before, didn’t you?”

“Jevan suggested he give it to Sir Clementwhen Guy asked him what a good gift would be. And Sir Clementwas rude about it ever afterwards.”

“But Jevan might have done it innocently, notknowing it would enrage Sir Clement,” Frevisse suggested.

“I doubt my cousin ever does anythinginnocently. He meant to make trouble then as surely as SirClement ever did. They were alike in more than looks. As they say, ‘Like in one way, like in more.’” Guyfrowned. “No, when Jevan has shown me what I need to know ofthe manor’s matters, I’ll be rid of him. There’s no otherway.”

Frevisse put on a thoughtfulexpression. “Lady Anne and I were talking of Sir Clement’ssalvation before you came in.” Guy smothered a rudenoise. Frevisse pretended not to hear, but went on as if shehad been considering the problem of Sir Clement’s soul. “Isthere any chance he was not so far in sin as we all think hewas? Had he shown any inclination of late toward repentinghis ways?”

Lady Anne answered, “I think he may have beena little less quarrelsome of late, but I also think that was simplybecause he was growing old and lacked the strength toward it he hadhad.”

“But he hadn’t been ill? He wasn’tgiven to illness?”

“Sir Clement?” Guy scoffed. “Never. Not even rheums in winter. Nothing made himill.”

Frevisse looked to Lady Anne. “Youfound that true?”

“Oh, yes. He was always concerned overhimself. Wouldn’t eat this unless it was perfectly fresh,wouldn’t eat that at all, had to have things cooked just so. But ill, no, never.”

“What sort of foods didn’t he like?” Frevissepressed.

Lady Anne shrugged. “Anything thathappened to go against his fancy. From one time to the nexthe could hate a thing or love it. There wasn’t any sense toit.”

Guy nodded agreement. “He wasimpossible to please.”

Frevisse made casual conversation a whilelonger for the sake of seeming polite, but could find no way toelicit any more useful information from either of them. Shemade a graceful departure as soon as she was sure of that, withsome hope of finding Jevan until she realized supper time was morenear than she had thought. For manners’ sake she ought todine in the solar with whomever of the family came, and so she wentthat way instead of after Jevan.

Aunt Matilda did not rise for the meal. “But she’s awake and, I think, better,” Alice said. “SirePhilip is with her for a while now so I could leave.”

She was serene but wan, and the earl, elegantin his mourning black, was attentive to her at the table, seeingshe had the finest and daintiest of every dish and gently insistingshe eat and drink more than she might have otherwise. For thefirst time, in his kindness to her cousin, Frevisse found somethingparticular about him that she liked. But it meant that, sinceBishop Beaufort had chosen to dine in his own rooms, and SirePhilip was with Aunt Matilda, there were only she and Dame Perpetuato make other conversation; and since the one thing they bothwished to speak of was impossible here, their conversation wasslight, with many silences. In them, Frevisse followed herown thoughts.

Despite all her questioning, she still hadonly pieces, like the shards of a window she had once seen outsidea burned church. Slivers and cracked pieces of bright colors,with here and there a recognizable part of a face, or the fold of arobe, or the petals of a flower, but most of it making no sense atall, just pieces that might never have been part of anypattern.

But there had to be a way here to bring allthe pieces into sense. She knew Sir Clement had died fromeating a food that was poison to him but to no one else aroundhim. She did not know what the food was or how he hadcome to eat it, since he seemed to have known it was dangerous tohim. Then there was the matter of who had given it to him -and why. The why was the least problem: There were morethan enough people with reasons for hating Sir Clement todeath. But who had known exactly what to use to killhim? And how had they put it into his food at thefeast? Guy, Lady Anne, and Jevan were the three best able tohave done it, and they all had reasons to want him dead. Neither Guy nor Lady Anne seemed to have any idea there was a fooddeadly to Sir Clement. Or they – one or the other or both -were feigning their innocence of the knowledge. If they werenot feigning, that left Jevan, except he was going to lose the mostby Sir Clement’s death and so, perhaps, should have been leastwilling toward it.

She realized Dame Perpetua had been talkingto her, attempting to maintain at least the appearance ofpropriety, and that she had been nodding her head as if attendingto what she said. But now something finally meshed with herown thoughts and she interrupted sharply. “What?”

Dame Perpetua paused in mild surprise at theabruptness, then repeated patiently, “I said that I’m sorry Idelayed your learning about the poison this afternoon by notstaying where you expected to find me.”

“No, that was all right,” Frevisse assuredher. “It was what you said after that. About why youleft.”

“Because someone came in to see SirePhilip.”

“No, you said who it was that came in.”

“Why, Sir Clement’s nephew. The one wholooks so like him. He seemed troubled, or maybe only tired,but he wanted to speak to Sire Philip alone. I thought itwould be easier for me to go than them, so I went in search of you,with the Galen.”

“And he stayed to talk with Sire Philip?”

“That’s why he came,” Dame Perpetua explainedagain, patiently.

Sire Philip had been talking with Jevan,then, probably not long before she had come into the libraryherself, but he had never mentioned Jevan being there. Whyshould he? she asked herself. And promptly asked back,Why hadn’t he? Especially after she had told him whatshe was doing at Bishop Beaufort’s behest, when he had to know thatshe would be interested in anything about anyone who had beenaround Sir Clement.

The meal was finished. Alice andSuffolk were rising; the servants were hovering to clear dishes andtable away. Frevisse stood up with Dame Perpetua and said,“If you’ll pardon us, we’re going to do Vespers in the chapel, tomake up for the Offices we have somewhat scanted these fewdays.”

No objection could be made to that, exceptperhaps by Dame Perpetua who had had no idea of any suchthing. But she remained admirably silent, made her curtsywith Frevisse, and followed her from the room. Not until theywere on the stairs down to the hall did she say, “This is a goodidea of yours, Dame. But what else are you about?”

“I don’t know,” Frevisse said. “But Icouldn’t stay there longer, doing nothing.”

“It seems you’ve already done a great dealtoday.”

“But none of it will matter if I don’t findout the answers that make all of it make sense.”

“You might be better for a rest, a night’ssleep.”

“I might be,” Frevisse agreed, and wenton. With a sigh, Dame Perpetua accompanied her.

The servants were just finishing withclearing the hall after supper. Frevisse saw Lady Anne andGuy, Sir Ralph, Sir Edward, and Lady Eleanor clustered in front ofthe fireplace, but her attention went to Master Gallard, busy atsetting servants to make the rushes even where they had beenscrabbled by table legs and people’s feet. For all hisapparent fluster, he was efficient about it, just as he had beenefficient at everything these past few days. But even nowthat she knew he was Sire Philip’s brother, she could find nofamily resemblance at all, either in looks or manner.

He saw her before she could turn away andhurried over to make his eager, bobbing bow and ask, “Is thereaught I can do for you? How does Mistress Chaucer? Better, I hope. This has been a very heavy business for her,poor lady.”

“She’s resting quietly and that’s the bestthing for her just now.”

“Very certainly. But is there anythingI can do for you?”

She had been intending to ask Guy and LadyAnne where Jevan might be, since he was not in the hall, but nowshe said, “I’m looking for Jevan Dey.”

Master Gallard puckered his lipsthoughtfully, then said, “I think I saw him going to the chapelbefore supper. He never came to eat, you know. Heshould. He’s far too thin. Unless he’s gone somewhereelse, he’s in the chapel, surely.”

“There’s very little that you miss, is there,Master Gallard?”

Frevisse said it as a compliment, and he tookit so. “No, no, not if I can help it.”

“I didn’t know you were Sire Philip’sbrother.”

Master Gallard looked surprised. “Therewas no call for you to know, certainly. And there’s verylittle like between us, is there?”

“But you’re glad to be serving together thiswhile?”

“Most certainly. We were apart for manyyears, but have a fondness for each other. It’s good to betogether while we can, before-” He broke off with a suddenintake of breath, as if he had nearly committed anindiscretion.

“Until Bishop Beaufort takes him into hisservice,” Frevisse finished for him.

Master Gallard looked relieved. “Youknow his expectations then? Yes, he has good hope ofit. And well he should. He’s very clever.”

“And ambitious?” She said it as a mildjoke about something of which they both knew and approved.

Master Gallard bobbed on his feet as heanswered archly, “Within the limits he deserves to be, surely.”

“Wasn’t he bothered by Sir Clement’sinsistence he could prove you weren’t freeborn?”

“It was all nonsense. Pigeon traps inwater.” Master Gallard waved his hands airily to show thefoolishness. “There are papers. Philip has themall. Sir Clement had no claim, even on me. Philip wouldbe safe of course, being a priest, but I’d have no protection atall, and can you see me in a village, doing day work foranyone? But there were no grounds for it. Sir Clementwas only being odious.”

“But you’re nonetheless not sorry that he’sdead.”

“There’s no one sorry, I fear.” MasterGallard dropped his voice to emphasize the solemnity of hisanswer. “And few pretending they are. Though after adeath like that we should all consider our place in God’s eye andamend our ways.”

“You were in the hall when ithappened?” Frevisse could not remember whether she had seenhim then or not.

“No, no. My feet, you know-” Master Gallard bobbed slightly. “-they grow sore when I’m onthem too long, or if I stand too still. They’re very tender,and that morning by the time we’d finished with the funeral andseeing everyone into their places, well, I was in desperate need ofsitting down, and I did, in the kitchen where I could still be sureof what went on, of course, in case of need. But when theoutcry over Sir Clement began, it took me too long to reach thehall, with the servants in the way and all, so I only saw him beingtaken out. But there was talk of it afterward. Morethan enough talk. A terrible business, terrible. You’verecovered from the shock of seeing it, my ladies?”

“Quite recovered, yes,” Frevisse assuredhim. “If you’ll excuse us?”

Master Gallard assured them that he would,and while he was busy at it, Frevisse deftly extricated herself andDame Perpetua and went on their way.

“Did you learn anything from that?” DamePerpetua asked when they were well away from being overheard.

“I learned Master Gallard agrees with SirePhilip’s story that Sir Clement was no threat to them. Itwould be better if he’d said he’d actually seen these papers thatinsure that. So far, I have only Sire Philip’s word that theyexist.”

“And you couldn’t very well ask MasterGallard.”

“No. That’s something I’ll have toleave to the crowner. He has a right to ask and be answered,where I might be refused for impertinence. But I also learnedMaster Gallard was in the kitchen and so had access to SirClement’s food.” Which was useless unless she found some wayhe could have known which dishes Jevan would take to Sir Clement,because surely he could not have put the poison food into everydish or even remove one without someone in the kitchen noticingwhat he was doing, and that would have been too large a risk torun.

The chapel was as it had been the firstevening, when Frevisse had come to pray beside Chaucer’s corpse,except that there were fewer candles around the bier where SirClement now lay, and only two men kneeled beside the coffin. One of them was Jevan.

Not willing to disturb him at his prayers,Frevisse beckoned Dame Perpetua to the other end of the chapel, andby a single candle’s light, their heads close together over DamePerpetua’s prayer book, they whispered through Vespers. Whenthey were done, Dame Perpetua looked questioningly from Frevisse toJevan’s back, and back again. Frevisse shrugged, not knowingwhat to do except wait and hope it would not be too long.

It was not. The chapel’s chill hadbarely begun to be uncomfortable before Jevan straightened stifflyand rose slowly to his feet. As he bowed to the altar,Frevisse went forward so that when he turned away, she was standingbeside him.

“Master Jevan.”

“Dame Frevisse.” He bowed again. He was tired; it showed in his face and the way he heldhimself.

“I need to talk to you.” She indicatedthe door, and he followed her out into the antechamber.

But when she stopped, he said, “I have dutiesI must needs go to.”

“I’ll keep you only briefly. My cousinCountess Alice has asked I give her sympathies to Sir Clement’sfamily, since she’s nursing her mother presently, and to assure youof any help you need in your while here.”

“The lady is very gracious. I hopeMistress Chaucer isn’t badly ill?”

“Not ill so much as exhausted with trying tobe brave through everything.”

“But she’s better?”

“We think so.”

“That’s well then.” Jevan clearlyconsidered the conversation finished. He began to bow again,to leave. To forestall this, Frevisse said, “I’ve heard agreat deal about your uncle and what he was like. It’s toyour credit you were praying for him.”

A dull flush spread over Jevan’s face. Was he that unused to compliments? Frevisse wondered. But heonly said, “He should be prayed for by someone, and who better thanI?”

“Still, he wasn’t an easy man to bearound. No one seems sorry at all that he’s dead. Areyou?”

“Not in the slightest.” The answer camewith the firmness of deep conviction. “Everyone around himwill be better for being rid of him.”

“Especially Guy and Lady Anne.”

Jevan’s jaw tightened, but he did notflinch. “They’ll have their desires now, and God give themjoy of it.”

“And you? What will you do? Go onin service to Guy? I gather you were invaluable to SirClement.”

“I was his drudge,” Jevan said.

“You could have left him, found workelsewhere.”

Jevan shook his head. “He left me nohope of that. I tried once, took work as a woolpacker for oneof the merchants who bought our wool. Sir Clement hunted medown and gave neither me nor the merchant peace until finally theman had to let me go, to be rid of him. Sir Clementsaid he would do that whenever I tried to leave.”

“At least Guy will be an easier master.”

“At his first chance, Guy will have me outthe door and down the road with a curse and not much else to carrywith me. We don’t like each other, Guy and I.”

“He still holds the marchpane trick againstyou.”

Brief pleasure flickered on Jevan’sface. “There were walnut halves set in the center of eachpiece. Sir Clement all but foamed at the mouth when he sawthem and never forgave him. He’d boil into a temper everytime he saw Guy after that.”

As if with only mild, gossiping curiosity,Frevisse asked, “But why?”

Jevan’s face had fallen back into its settledexpression of endurance. “Walnuts made Sir Clement ill. Guy didn’t know that.”

“But after the marchpane, everyone inshouting distance of Sir Clement probably did,” Frevisse said,remembering his temper.

“Easily,” Jevan agreed grimly.

As if in simple commiseration, containing hersatisfaction at having at last another part of what she needed toknow, and wanting more, Frevisse said, “Sir Clementhad a finicking stomach, I’ve heard. The milk had to befresh. The goblet couldn’t be pewter. He didn’t likenuts. The cook was telling me. Was Sir Clement feigningor did any of that really make him ill?”

“Some things, yes, though not as many as hepretended. Walnuts did. Even touching them-” Jevan broke off with a shake of his head. “My lady, I disliketalking about him, and I have things that need to be done. Ifyou’ll excuse me.”

“My pardon. Certainly. I forgetmyself and chatter overmuch,” Frevisse said. “Thank you foryour kindness. And remember my cousin’s offer. Anythingyou may need while at Ewelme…”

Jevan had retreated while she was stilltalking. She trailed off to silence and stood gazing at theair in front of her, considering.