sick. And if I could have killed him then to stop him, I would have, believe me, I would have done it gladly, but I couldn't. He was too strong.'
She swallowed the hard lump that had risen in her throat, trying to think how to explain it so that Raffaele would understand.
'Afterwards ... after he'd gone I fell asleep. I dreamed I'd killed him, but it was only a dream, just a dream. I couldn't have done it. I've thought about it over and over again. I don't remember walking through the streets. It must have been a dream.'
'Like the dream you had about your son?' Raffaele snapped. 'Curious, isn't it, how you dream and deaths always follow? There are those who might say that is worse than murder; they might call it witchcraft.'
Elena gaped at his back. He couldn't be saying this. 'But my son isn't dead. I told you ... I told you that Gytha took my son. I thought you believed me. That's why you helped me, wasn't it, because you knew I was innocent?'
'I don't know what I believe any more!'
Raffaele gripped the edge of the casement so hard that Elena thought he was going to tear it apart with his bare hands. For several moments he stood there, his head bowed, his knuckles white. Then he seemed to regain control of himself.
'You shouldn't speak about your dreams to anyone,' he said quietly. 'If Ma or the other women think they are harbouring a witch, they will not keep you here.'
'But I don't want them to keep me here,' Elena said. 'It isn't safe.'
For the first time since she'd entered the room, he turned to face her, staring at her as if she was a stranger. Elena realized it was the first time he'd seen her dyed hair. Her hand slid up, pulling her cap further down over her coiled plaits, but she couldn't hide her eyebrows. Luce had insisted on dyeing those too, saying her pale auburn ones were in too marked contrast to her dark hair.
Your hair, what happened to your beautiful hair?' Raffaele said, aghast.
'Luce dyed it. Ma insisted in case the sheriffs men came back.'
Raffe continued to stare at her, then he seemed to remember where he was. 'Talbot tells me that no one has returned here again to enquire about the murder. That's good. That means they don't link Raoul's death with you.'
'But what about Hugh?' Elena said. 'He saw me. He didn't seem to remember who I was, but he said he thought I looked familiar. And he asked Finch about me. I can't stay here now. What if he returns?'
Shock and fear flashed across Raffe's face. He grasped her shoulders, staring down into her eyes so fiercely that she was forced to lower her gaze.
'What's this about Hugh? He was here? When . . . when was he here?'
'More than a week ago . . . two maybe.'
'Was he here looking for you?'
'I don't think so,' Elena said. 'He was here to . . . use a little boy. He just happened to see me. But what if he remembers where he saw me before? You have to take me away.'
Raffaele stepped back from her, running his hand distractedly through his thick grizzled hair. 'I will ... I will, I give you my word, but not yet. There's something I must do, and until that's finished, I can't be with you to look after you. This is the only safe place I can leave you.'
'But it isn't safe!' Elena wailed. 'What if he comes back?'
Raffaele was pacing the floor, gnawing on the edge of his thumb.
'Hugh only saw you fleetingly when he was at the manor, one of dozens of servants. He wasn't there when you were accused. Everyone in the manor knows that villein escaped the gallows. There won't be a man in Osborn's retinue who doesn't know he'd pay a fortune to capture you, but even so, Hugh won't be able to link a face to a name. Even if he was the man who you overheard talking about the Santa Katarina, you said yourself he didn't see your face.'
Elena lurched violently, grabbing hold of the edge of a table, trying to keep herself from falling.
'Hugh! You think Hugh was the man I heard in Lady Anne's chamber? But. . . but I don't understand. That night when I told you, you said it was one of Osborn's servants.'
Raffaele shook his head impatiently. 'I know that's what