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'Wharf Alley, Eldred said. 'In the middle, atween the cookshop and the bathhouse.

With that they were gone. Agatha frowned after the closed door and pursed her lips.

While Wharf Alley was not the worst area in Bristol, neither was it the most salubrious. In between the houses of the merchants and craftworkers, there were bakeries and cookshops. There were also taverns and bathhouses. A man could have a meal, get drunk and find a whore all without walking more than thirty yards. He could be robbed and tossed in the river within the same distance too.

'This house, said Eldred, halting before a dwelling that was squeezed in the middle of two larger establishments. Its daub and wattle walls had recently been limewashed and the thatch was also new.

'Belongs to the folk at the bathhouse, Eldred confided. 'They bought it off the widow who used to live there. Rent it out now, they do.

Catrin eyed the house as Eldred banged on the door. It was the sort of place that men used for assignations with their mistresses, rather than renting as a domestic home. Perhaps the mistress was in labour.

Eldred's knock was answered by the red-haired Welshman.

'I brought the midwife like your master wanted, he announced.

Catrin did not recognise Ewan at first, except to know that she had seen him somewhere before. By the time she did, she was over the threshold and putting down the hood of her cloak.

'Ewan? Her eyes widened.

So did the soldier's before he rounded on Eldred. 'What trickery is this? he snarled.

Eldred stared in bewilderment. 'No trickery, he said. 'You asked for a midwife, I said I could find you one and here she is. You owe me my fee. He extended his hand.

'You're owed nothing, Ewan growled.

Catrin felt weak and disoriented with shock. Ewan's master could only be Louis. Mother of God, after all these years. He flitted in and out of her life like a destructive spirit; wreaking havoc and leaving her to pick up the pieces, only to reappear and dash them to the ground again in ever more fragile shards. She laid her hand on Eldred's indignant sleeve.

'Escort me home, Eldred, she said, with as much calm as she could muster. 'I myself will pay your fee. She turned to the door.

'That will not be necessary, Louis said quietly, and barred her way. 'Master Eldred, I thank you. He gave the messenger a silver halfpenny and, setting his hand on Catrin's shoulder to detain her, stood aside to let the man depart. Then he closed the door.

But for the thought of the woman she had been brought to aid, Catrin would have thrust him off and hastened after Eldred. She glared at her husband. 'I was summoned to attend at a childbirth, she said. 'I suppose some other unfortunate woman has fallen victim to your charm.

Louis looked hurt. 'Why do you always think the worst of me, Catty?

'Because I know now that there is no better, she retorted. 'And my name is Catrin. What are you doing in Bristol, Lewis?

He shrugged and smiled, familiar gestures which had once sent a pang through her, but now filled her with distaste. They were affected, not charming. 'The same as everyone else. Paying court to Prince Henry, our future King.

'Why, do you think he might give you a castle to ruin?

A scowl marred his brow. 'You've still got the claws, I see.

'I don't suffer fools gladly. Show me to the woman in travail or else let me go. She set her hand on the door latch.

'There isn't a woman in travail, Louis said. 'The need for a midwife is my own. I did not know that the old beggar would bring you.

'What? Catrin gazed at him and wondered if he had lost his wits. 'Why should you want a midwife?

Louis flicked a glance at Ewan. 'Go next door and amuse yourself, he said, flipping the soldier a coin. 'I want to talk privately with my wife.

'I am not your wife, Catrin said coldly. 'You gave up that right when you rode out of Wickham and left me and a tiny baby to face the siege.

'You are mine in the eyes of the Church.

'But not in my own and that is all that matters.

Eyes lowered, Ewan opened the door and stepped out into the street. Catrin started after him, but Louis was quicker and leaped in front of her, his extended arm barring her way.

Filled with loathing and a spark of fear, Catrin drew herself up. 'Let me go, she hissed. 'For whatever purpose you want a midwife, find someone else. I owe you neither loyalty nor service.

'Then what about pity, Catrin? His voice softened and filled with pathos. 'Can you not find it within you to pity me?

'No, I can't, she answered savagely, but was aware of a betraying spark of uncertainty.

Louis perceived and sprang upon it immediately. 'I do not believe that. Your heart was always tender even if the shell was of steel. He bowed his head. 'I'm dying. That's why I sent Ewan away; he doesn't know. You'll be rid of me sooner than you know.

'Dying? Catrin did not know whether to laugh or be appalled, to believe or to doubt. 'I can see nothing wrong with you. She couldn't. He was lean and tanned, with all the vibrancy she remembered.

'Then look again.

She followed his gaze along the outstretched arm barring her from freedom and saw on the bare skin of his wrist a raw patch about the size of a brooch.

'Leprosy, he said, lowering his arm and turning it to show her the sore in more detail. 'The crusader's plague. I took the cross to atone for my sins and it took my life. Pity me, Catrin. Lie in your warm, adulterous bed and think of me at the roadside in beggar's rags with a clapper bell for my bedmate and the cry of "Unclean!" on my lips.

She shook her head and swallowed, her gaze drawn in fascination to the raw skin with its scummy, grey edges. She had often seen lepers before, had thrown them quarter and halfpennies for charity's sake, but always from a distance. They clothed themselves in voluminous robes to conceal the desecration wrought on their bodies by the disease, but she had seen enough sores to know the signs.

'Go if you want. He stood aside, leaving her way free to the wet street outside. 'Go back to your life and pretend that we were ships that passed in the night, that we never had this collision.

'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, she whispered. Handsome, vain Louis with his need for adulation, his delight in all things sensual. It was the cruellest end that fate could have devised. Although the doorway yawned, she found it impossible to walk out.

'So am I. He pulled his sleeve down over the sore. 'I understand that it creeps slowly; that it will be a while before it reaches my fingers and causes them to rot. For the present, at least, I can hide the sore, live among other men and make my way in the world. But soon enough that will change. He gave her a mocking look. 'Now do you pity me?

Catrin clenched her fists. She felt compassion and loathing in equal proportions. It was typical of Louis that he would rather infect others with the disease than sacrifice his own way of living. 'What good would it be to you if I did?

The mocking expression vanished and in its place came, a pleading look through which calculation glimmered. 'For pity's sake you might help me to live.

'Why should I do that when it would be of more benefit to me to have you dead?

His smile was more than half grimace as he shut the open door. 'Conscience, Catty, your bleeding conscience. I don't have one, but you always had enough for both of us. That's why you didn't walk out when I gave you the chance.

She bit her lip, knowing that he was right and as always he had found a weakness and exploited it. 'I know of no cure for leprosy, she said. 'There is nothing I can do for you.

'But there is. The physicians in the Holy Land are more learned than any here. They know of all manner of remedies that we have not even begun to comprehend. His eyes gleamed.

'I know that there is a great healing tradition among the peoples of Araby, Catrin answered. 'Ethel taught me many of their ways. But I know of none for leprosy. She wondered what his intention was. Why did he need a midwife when a physician was the more obvious choice? A niggling suspicion began to grow in her mind, but it was so preposterous that she did not allow it to surface.