disdain, settled himself in a patch of warm light, and closed his beautiful green eyes. His name was Coriolanus, and he was so old and threadbare that Isaac thought he resembled nothing more than a dusty grey rag curled carelessly onto the timbers.
‘What did I tell you!’ cried the Protector Lady, as she clambered from the timbers and jumped onto the scaffold. ‘The boy comes up in a basket or he doesn’t come up at all! Isaac Kingsson? Do you want your good mother hunting the Protector Lord down and beheading him in a violent rage? Can I not at least depend that you shall keep a sensible head on your shoulders?’
The Protector Lord just grinned and leaned recklessly out from the scaffold, suspended above the sheer drop by his heels and one misshapen hand. His hair came loose from his collar and swung behind him, a dark raven’s wing against the blue sky as he turned his face to the sun and shut his eyes.
‘Oh hush, lass,’ he murmured. ‘Sure isn’t the lad as nimble as a little green monkey.’
At the sight of him hanging over the drop, the Protector Lady went a little pale. She placed her hand upon a strut, as if by steadying herself she might also steady him. If Isaac had not known her better, he would think she was afraid she might fall. But of course he did know better: the Protector Lady was famous for clambering the scaffolds, quick as any ship’s boy. She was never afraid she would fall. The little boy grinned as the lady called softly to her husband.
‘Christopher,’ she said, ‘come in.’ Her voice was so low that Isaac was surprised the Protector Lord heard her. But the lord’s clear grey eyes opened immediately, and he ducked his head to look in at her. ‘Come in,’ she said.
The Protector Lord swung in under the bar and landed on the wide scaffold boards with a bounce. He winked at Isaac. ‘Women,’ he said.
‘Huh,’ she said, releasing her hold on the strut and clearing her throat. ‘If you fall and sully all my lovely wood, your ghost will be mopping up the mess for all eternity.’
‘I have no doubt,’ murmured the Protector Lord. He crossed his arms and lounged against the beams, smiling tenderly at his wife.
The Protector Lady came and crouched by Isaac. She grinned at him, and Isaac grinned back. He knew very few women who would crouch down like that. It had to do with her clothes, he supposed. ‘How do, little pud,’ she said, tapping his nose and pushing back his sandy hair. As usual, her own hair had come loose of its long plait and was tumbled around her shoulders in messy auburn waves. Her face was a sunburst of ochre freckles after the long hot summer. ‘Is your da with you?’
‘Papa was called to the university very early, Aunty Wyn. They are to begin lessons again next week, you know! There is much to do.’
The Protector Lady smiled. ‘Your mama must be very happy that she can resume her studies.’
‘Oh, yes, though she tires of always sitting behind the curtain; it quite obscures her view of the tutors!’
‘She should bring scissors and cut a damned big hole in it,’ grunted the Protector Lord. ‘She will continue to press for recognition?’
‘Oh yes,’ nodded Isaac.
‘I despair of them ever granting her the blue robe,’ sighed the lady.
‘That don’t take her talents away,’ said the Protector Lord. ‘It don’t make her any less learned, just because they refuse her a doctorate!’
‘Papa says Mama is quite the best person he has ever met for cutting open and sewing shut a patient! He has crowned her the Lady Mary, Mistress of the scalpel, Master of his heart!’
The lord and lady laughed in delight, and Isaac, very pleased with himself, thrust the now crumpled message out before him. ‘I have brought this!’ he said. ‘It is from Papa. He entrusted it to me!’
The Protector Lady eyed it dubiously. ‘Isaac,’ she said, ‘if your father continues to expand upon his plans, this hospital will never be built! Please tell me he has not sent you with yet another extension to the wards or more storage for the bleeding-room or some manner of new dissection chamber?’
The child laughed. ‘No, Protector Lady, it is news of the baby!’
The Protector Lord straightened. ‘What news?’ he said.
‘I do not know. Papa read it, handed it to Mama, kissed her and left for the university. He entrusted