then?’
‘If I told you, you’d be none the wiser. What about you? What’s your name?’
‘My real name is Keturah.’
‘That’s nice. It’s in the Bible, isn’t it? Wasn’t she one of Abraham’s wives?’
‘Yes, but I don’t care who she was. I hate my name. It’s horrible. Most people call me Kitty. I’d rather that.’
‘Then that’s what I’ll call you. Kitty. My name’s Jenna.’
‘Jenna? That’s a strange name!’
‘It’s from Cornwall.’
‘Is that in Devon?’
‘Well, down that way.’
‘I wouldn’t know anyway, like you said. We get drovers here from Devon sometimes. There’s one called Robin who comes here quite often.’
‘Yes, I know, I walked part of the way with him.’
‘With Robin! Oh, you’re so lucky! He’s lovely. I think I’m going to marry him when I grow up.’
‘Oh, really? Does he know that?’
‘No, not yet. I haven’t told him. But I expect I’ll tell him soon.’
Jenna smiled to herself in the half-darkness. This little girl sounded very young, ten or eleven years old perhaps, or less, still young enough to think all her problems would end at the altar. She’d learn soon enough that they didn’t.
‘I’m tired now, Kitty. I’d like to thank St Christopher for keeping me safe on the journey and then I’m going to go to sleep. I have work to do tomorrow!’
‘Where did you sleep when you were travelling?’ Young Kitty wanted to know everything.
Jenna sighed. ‘Well,’ she said, turning on her side, her back towards her persistent interrogator, ‘I mostly slept in hay lofts like this one. Under a hedge once or twice.’
‘It’s a good thing it was summer,’ Kitty observed, nodding sagely to herself.
‘Yes, it is, for lots of reasons. There was plenty of work to be had and the field workers always got fed. And I sometimes earned enough to pay for a share of a straw mattress. But nobody ever kept me awake like you’re doing. Now, Kitty, I really want to get to sleep.’ Jenna yawned exaggeratedly, feigning a tiredness she didn’t really feel. But she was not yet ready to confide in Kitty, or anyone else for that matter.
Kitty was not to be deflected. She inched closer to Jenna and leaned on one elbow, still determined to talk. ‘You’ll like it here,’ she said in a confidential tone. ‘The monks keep themselves to themselves and Master Jourdemayne is ever so nice, for all that he’s very fussy about keeping the dairy clean. No one likes his wife though – we call her Old Mother Madge – so it’s as well we don’t see much of her.’
‘Why is that?’
‘She spends a lot of time up at the palace. She makes creams and ointments and things like that and sells them to the gentry up there. I’ve heard tell she makes a tidy living at it, so she’s away quite often. Mind you, there was a time when she was away for a couple of months. But that was different.’ She waited: surely curiosity would get the better of Jenna.
‘Don’t you want to know why?’ she asked, after a long pause.
‘Oh, all right then. Why?’
‘She was in prison!’ Kitty said, dropping her voice dramatically.
Jenna twisted herself up to face her. Now it was her turn to be wide-eyed.
‘In prison! Really? What had she done?’
‘Well, it was never really proved, but I just remember it. Not many people do these days, because it was ... oh, I don’t know, a good few years ago. But I remember my mother saying she came out of prison in May. The ninth, I think it was. Or perhaps it was the tenth. Mind you, my mother’s dead long since, so I could be misremembering. But I can just remember her coming home to the farm, even though I was only a very, very little girl. I remember I was ever so frightened...’
‘Kitty!’ By now, Jenna was shaking Kitty’s arm. ‘What had she done? What was she accused of?’
Kitty paused again, a little too long, for the greatest dramatic impact.
‘Tell me, Kitty!’
Kitty took a deep breath and composed
‘If I told you, you’d be none the wiser. What about you? What’s your name?’
‘My real name is Keturah.’
‘That’s nice. It’s in the Bible, isn’t it? Wasn’t she one of Abraham’s wives?’
‘Yes, but I don’t care who she was. I hate my name. It’s horrible. Most people call me Kitty. I’d rather that.’
‘Then that’s what I’ll call you. Kitty. My name’s Jenna.’
‘Jenna? That’s a strange name!’
‘It’s from Cornwall.’
‘Is that in Devon?’
‘Well, down that way.’
‘I wouldn’t know anyway, like you said. We get drovers here from Devon sometimes. There’s one called Robin who comes here quite often.’
‘Yes, I know, I walked part of the way with him.’
‘With Robin! Oh, you’re so lucky! He’s lovely. I think I’m going to marry him when I grow up.’
‘Oh, really? Does he know that?’
‘No, not yet. I haven’t told him. But I expect I’ll tell him soon.’
Jenna smiled to herself in the half-darkness. This little girl sounded very young, ten or eleven years old perhaps, or less, still young enough to think all her problems would end at the altar. She’d learn soon enough that they didn’t.
‘I’m tired now, Kitty. I’d like to thank St Christopher for keeping me safe on the journey and then I’m going to go to sleep. I have work to do tomorrow!’
‘Where did you sleep when you were travelling?’ Young Kitty wanted to know everything.
Jenna sighed. ‘Well,’ she said, turning on her side, her back towards her persistent interrogator, ‘I mostly slept in hay lofts like this one. Under a hedge once or twice.’
‘It’s a good thing it was summer,’ Kitty observed, nodding sagely to herself.
‘Yes, it is, for lots of reasons. There was plenty of work to be had and the field workers always got fed. And I sometimes earned enough to pay for a share of a straw mattress. But nobody ever kept me awake like you’re doing. Now, Kitty, I really want to get to sleep.’ Jenna yawned exaggeratedly, feigning a tiredness she didn’t really feel. But she was not yet ready to confide in Kitty, or anyone else for that matter.
Kitty was not to be deflected. She inched closer to Jenna and leaned on one elbow, still determined to talk. ‘You’ll like it here,’ she said in a confidential tone. ‘The monks keep themselves to themselves and Master Jourdemayne is ever so nice, for all that he’s very fussy about keeping the dairy clean. No one likes his wife though – we call her Old Mother Madge – so it’s as well we don’t see much of her.’
‘Why is that?’
‘She spends a lot of time up at the palace. She makes creams and ointments and things like that and sells them to the gentry up there. I’ve heard tell she makes a tidy living at it, so she’s away quite often. Mind you, there was a time when she was away for a couple of months. But that was different.’ She waited: surely curiosity would get the better of Jenna.
‘Don’t you want to know why?’ she asked, after a long pause.
‘Oh, all right then. Why?’
‘She was in prison!’ Kitty said, dropping her voice dramatically.
Jenna twisted herself up to face her. Now it was her turn to be wide-eyed.
‘In prison! Really? What had she done?’
‘Well, it was never really proved, but I just remember it. Not many people do these days, because it was ... oh, I don’t know, a good few years ago. But I remember my mother saying she came out of prison in May. The ninth, I think it was. Or perhaps it was the tenth. Mind you, my mother’s dead long since, so I could be misremembering. But I can just remember her coming home to the farm, even though I was only a very, very little girl. I remember I was ever so frightened...’
‘Kitty!’ By now, Jenna was shaking Kitty’s arm. ‘What had she done? What was she accused of?’
Kitty paused again, a little too long, for the greatest dramatic impact.
‘Tell me, Kitty!’
Kitty took a deep breath and composed
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