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“You should never have come back.”

Jordan’s tongue felt as if it was covered in rabbit fur, and swallowing was difficult. “It seemed right to come back and see you. I’d been away for so long, I just wanted to see the town where I was born one more time.” He knew his brother couldn’t understand the homesick aching in his bones. It had been unwise to return, as Elias said, but it was an urge which couldn’t be refused.

“There was no point,” Elias persisted miserably.

“It seems not.”

“I wonder what will happen to me?”

“You should be all right. They’ll soon catch the Venetians, and then you’ll be safe enough. Not like me: I’ll go to the gibbet.”

Elias brought his legs up and rested his head on his knees. He knew his brother was right. There could be no defense for a man once he was declared outlaw. “You shouldn’t have come back,” he repeated dully.

“At least I’ve seen my town again,” Jordan said softly. “I’ve lived too long abroad. The land is good, rich and fertile, and the people live well, but it’s not my home. I couldn’t die happy there. Here I can die content.”

“Did you never marry?”

“Yes. She caught a fever and died. We had no children.”

“That boy-he’s not your own?”

“No.” Jordan chewed his lip. He hoped Hankin was unharmed. “I took him on when he was newly orphaned. He was a comfort to me, and I was able to keep him alive, so we were well suited.”

Elias grew too hot, huddled as he was, and stretched his legs out before him, groaning with the aching in his joints. He needed water, but it wasn’t that which gave his voice its sharpness. “Was that to atone for what you did?”

“I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of, Elias, believe me,” Jordan said tiredly. It was hard to talk about the matter, it was so long ago. The bloody axe sprang once more to his mind, the woman’s mouth wide as if screaming as she lay by the side of her husband’s body, the girl sheltered behind her skirts. The memory made him close his eyes with a shudder. Although he hadn’t known it at the time, that event marked the end of his old life. And now it had returned to haunt him and end his whole existence.

“The gang killed them all, didn’t they?” Elias asked remorselessly.

“What could I have done against so many?” Jordan rested his head against the wall. He had always known his brother didn’t believe his protestations of innocence.

Elias looked away. A member of the gang had approved, confessed in exchange for his life, swearing he told the truth. There was no reason for him to accuse Jordan if he had nothing to do with it. “The bastards left an orphan, though, just like the one you picked up.”

“I remember.” Jordan gazed at the clear sky through the window. It was not something he could forget. The girl had been struck down, and with all the blood in the room, the men had assumed she was dead. It had been a huge relief to him when later he had seen her breast move, and he had taken her up and carried her away from that charnelhouse. It never occurred to him that he might be accused after saving her, but he had been, and he had to run for his life before he could be arrested. “I’m only glad that I was able to make sure she lived.”

Elias sighed and shifted. Stones on the ground dug into his thin buttocks. “Yes, but what about the lad?”

“Which lad?”

“The one you rescued-the one at your stall.”

“Hankin? He’ll have to make his own way, I suppose.” Jordan stared up at the sky once more, and had to blink away the tears, not only of self-pity but also futility. There was nothing more he could do to help the lad, he told himself. Hankin might be able to fend for himself…if the Abbot didn’t take everything that Jordan owned as an amercement he could give it to the boy.

“With nothing, there’s not much chance of him surviving.”

Jordan faced his brother. “If you do get out of this, Elias, promise me you’ll look after him.”

“Me!”

“Someone has to, and the poor lad has no one. He hardly even speaks English now, he’s been away so long. Swear to me, Elias-it’s the last thing I’ll ever ask you to do for me.”

“And it’s no small thing you want me to do-only to spend the rest of my life protecting a beardless boy!” Elias grumbled, but before long Jordan had the promise he needed, and he could relax and slump back against the wall once more.

It was little enough for him to leave behind, but at least he had the satisfaction that Hankin would be provided for. Elias was scruffy and lazy, and he had a capacity for whining which disgusted his older brother, but he was sound enough, and Jordan was sure he would be secretly delighted to have the company of the boy. Hankin had been a good friend. It would have been an intolerable weight on Jordan’s mind, going to the gallows knowing Hankin was deserted.

He looked out at the fresh, free world again, wondering what had happened to that other orphan, the little girl-whether she had survived the pain and terror of losing her parents so needlessly. It would ease his death if she had not suffered too much torment.

At the sound of harnesses and shouting, the Abbot left the refectory and hurried down to the Great Court. The men were all climbing from their horses with the steady and deliberate movements of the enormously tired.

“Sir Baldwin, you are all well? No one was hurt?”

“No, no one was harmed. And you need not fear for your harriers or berner. They are fine.”

“Sir Baldwin, they were far from my mind,” the Abbot chided him, but the knight saw his gaze moving past him to the wagging tails of the pack. “The girl?”

“She is well, tired but fine-and her father will be delighted to know that she is not harmed in any way at all.”

“That will be a relief to him,” the Abbot agreed. “Now, do you want to question the men immediately?”

Baldwin eyed the bedraggled figures on their horses. The shadows were lengthening, and dark was not far off. “No, my lord Abbot. I am exhausted, and so are they-we have ridden almost to Lydford and back. It would be better to wait until the morning. Let my bones rest a little before I confront them, so I can think more clearly about what I am saying.”

“I will have them chained up in the cellar.”

“I wouldn’t bother. And I am not so sure you need fear their escaping. Just leave a man at their door.” He nodded to the girl. “Avice should be escorted back to her father’s house.”

“I don’t want to go! Let me stay here with Pietro!”

“You are your father’s responsibility, not the Abbot’s,” Baldwin said exasperatedly. “And it would hardly be fitting that you should be kept in a room with two men-especially a dungeon. Come-let us take you home; I shall accompany you.”

“I’ll join you,” Simon volunteered. His legs were stiff after their long ride, and he was keen to stretch them. Baldwin, he saw, seemed preoccupied, and while they proceeded up the road, the knight kept silent, his brow furrowed.

It took little time to get to the merchant’s house. Arthur was waiting, and Simon explained for Avice how she had been brought back to the Abbey. “She is perfectly well, sir. Have no fears for her, er…” He trailed off, with no idea how to finish the sentence. He wanted to say, “She hasn’t been touched, there wasn’t time for them to spoil her,” but somehow the words were trite and irrelevant.

Avice stood beside him, her eyes downcast, and Arthur was caught between anger and sheer delight: anger that she had run away with the boy and not considered her parents; and fierce joy that she was back. As Simon watched, his expression softened, and he put his arms out. Avice seemed to be pulled forward as if by an invisible magnet until she was within the circle of his arms. There was a cry from within, and Simon recognized the strident voice of Avice’s mother; the man and his daughter didn’t appear to notice, but simply stood quietly in their firm embrace. After a moment, Arthur caught Simon’s eye, and there was suddenly a tear falling down the merchant’s cheek.