suffered the loss of a parent. After Silvia died, Lolla had been mothered by Bessie Bell, Lady Philippa, Merthin's housekeeper Em, and of course Caris herself. Perhaps she was confused about who she should obey. But Caris did not voice this thought, as it might seem to suggest that Merthin had somehow failed as a parent. "I had terrible fights with Aunt Petranilla when I was that age."
"What about?"
"Similar things. She didn't like me spending time with Mattie Wise."
"That's completely different. You didn't go to low taverns with rogues."
"Petranilla thought Mattie was bad company."
"It's not the same."
"I suppose not."
"You learned a lot from Mattie."
Lolla was undoubtedly learning a lot from handsome Jake Riley, but Caris kept that inflammatory thought to herself - Merthin was furious enough already.
The island was entirely built up now, and an integral part of the city. It even had its own parish church. Where once they had wandered across waste ground, they now followed a footpath that ran straight between houses and turned sharp corners. The rabbits had long gone. The hospital occupied most of the western end. Although Caris went there every day, she still felt a glow of pride when she looked at the clean grey stonework, the large windows in regular rows and the chimneys lined up like soldiers.
They passed through a gate into Merthin's grounds. The orchard was mature, and blossom covered the apple trees like snow.
As always, they went in through the kitchen door. The house had a grand entrance on the river side which no one ever used. Even a brilliant architect can make a mistake, Caris thought with amusement; but, once again, she decided to give the thought no voice today.
Lolla stamped upstairs to her room.
From the front room a woman called: "Hello, everyone!" The two boys rushed into the parlour with glad cries. It was their mother, Philippa. Merthin and Caris greeted her warmly.
Caris and Philippa had become sisters-in-law when Caris married Merthin, but their past rivalry had continued to make Caris feel awkward in Philippa's presence for some years. Eventually the boys had brought them together. When first Gerry then Roley enrolled at the priory school, it was natural for Merthin to look after his nephews, and then it became normal for Philippa to call at Merthin's house whenever she was in Kingsbridge.
At first, Caris had felt jealous of Philippa for having attracted Merthin sexually. Merthin had never tried to pretend that his love for Philippa had been merely superficial. He clearly still cared about her. But Philippa nowadays cut a sad figure. She was forty-nine and looked older, her hair grey and her face lined with disappointment. She lived now for her children. She was a frequent guest of her daughter, Odila, the countess of Monmouth; and when she was not there she often visited Kingsbridge Priory to be close to her sons. She managed to spend very little time at Earlscastle with her husband Ralph.
"I've got to take the boys to Shiring," she said, explaining her presence here. "Ralph wants them to attend the county court with him. He says it's a necessary part of their education."
"He's right," Caris said. Gerry would be the earl, if he lived long enough; and if he did not Roley would inherit the title. So they both needed to be familiar with courts.
Philippa added: "I intended to be in the cathedral for the Easter service, but my charette broke a wheel and I made an overnight stop."
"Well, now that you're here, let's have dinner," Caris said.
They went into the dining hall. Caris opened the windows that looked on to the river. Cool fresh air came in. She wondered what Merthin would do about Lolla. He said nothing, leaving her to stew upstairs, to Caris's relief: a brooding adolescent at the dinner table could bring down everyone's spirits.
They ate mutton boiled with leeks. Merthin poured red wine, and Philippa drank thirstily. She had become fond of wine. Perhaps it was her consolation.
While they were eating, Em came in looking anxious. "There's somebody at the kitchen door to see the mistress," she said.
Merthin said impatiently: "Well, who is it?"
"He wouldn't mention his name, but he said the mistress would know him."
"What kind of person?"
"A young man. By his clothes a peasant, not a town dweller." Em had a snobbish dislike of villagers.
"Well, he sounds harmless. Let him come in."
A moment later, in walked a tall figure with a hood pulled forward to cover most of his face. When he