down to dine here, but had been served with more food than they could possibly eat. Another wave of hunger and nausea rose up in Elena at the sight of the meats. She swallowed hard, and tried to focus on something.
The gateman was looking her up and down with a great deal of curiosity. He was a stocky man, with thick, bowed legs that gave him a rolling gait. His nose had been badly broken and had mended crooked, and the thickened ears which bulged out from under his grizzled hair bore witness to their owner having engaged in numerous fist fights. But he had the cockiness of stance which suggested he usually came out of a fight victorious, whether by fair means or foul.
'I wonder . . . tell me, lass, did you work at the manor with Master Raffaele?'
'For a little ... as a maid.'
An oddly satisfied grin flickered across the gateman's crocked face. 'So you're the girl he was so keen to protect. You certainly have a knack for getting yourself into trouble, lass.'
He nodded to himself. Then he glanced towards the far end of the hall as if someone had attracted his attention, though Elena could see nothing except the carved grotesques.
'You wait here,' he ordered.
The gateman disappeared through a narrow doorway on the opposite side of the room. Elena heard the creak of stairs, then silence. Finally the stairs creaked again and the gateman was standing in the doorway beckoning to her.
'Best follow me, lass, Mother Margot doesn't like to be kept waiting'
Elena shuffled towards him, clutching her scrip tightly against her stomach, as if it would afford her some kind of protection. Although she had never seen a nunnery in her life, as soon as they had entered the building she had recognized that this was no convent. But some part of her still tried to cling desperately to the notion that it was, for if it was not a convent, what was it?
The gateman led the way up the stairs, holding the lantern down by his side so that Elena could see the steps. The stairs ended at a stout door. He knocked before reaching down for Elena's arm and pulling her into the room.
This upper room was smaller than the one below, with a casement overlooking whatever was behind the house, though the shutters were firmly closed. A large bed with thick hangings around it occupied one corner and much of the remaining space was taken up by a table covered with a pile of ledgers and quills and the remains of a supper — a good one too, judging by the wine dregs and goose bones. A huge carved chair stood behind the table, but it was set too deep in the shadows for Elena to make out more than a shape and something that glittered green. Only a single wax candle illuminated the room, so that at first Elena thought it unoccupied.
A fresh little bub to see you, Ma.'
Ah, the Bullock's girl.' The voice seemed to be coming from behind a thick woollen cloth screening off the corner of the chamber. 'So, what brings you here, my darling?'
Thoroughly disconcerted at being addressed by someone she couldn't see, Elena stammered, 'Master. . . Master Raffaele said you'd take me and I'd be safe here ... I'll work hard, Mother, I'll do anything'
'I'm glad to hear it. Very glad, but why should you need to be kept safe? Why should you not be safe where you were? Tell me the truth, my darling. I can always tell when someone is lying and I don't like liars, do I, Talbot?'
The gateman jerked his head in a vague gesture of agreement.
Elena stared at her feet, desperately hoping she was about to do the right thing, but Raffaele said Mother Margot was a friend of his and he'd not have sent her here if he thought the woman would turn her away.
'I had a baby, a boy. I was afraid for him so I gave him away, but they said . . . they said I'd killed him. But I didn't. . . I swear. You have to believe me,' she added desperately.
'I don't have to believe anyone, my darling, and I seldom do. So it's here or the gallows, is that it? That should sharpen your appetite for work. Now, let's see what Master Raffe has sent us.'
The cloth billowed as someone stepped from behind it.