John was used to being on the prosecuting side, and he, too, looked uneasy, but he told the truth in a strong voice. “She said: ‘Pray to God, for only He can heal.’ ”

Caris turned to the crowd. “Everyone knows that Mattie was no witch. In that case, says Brother Philemon, why did she flee? Easy question. She was afraid that lies would be told about her – as they have been told about me. Which of you women, if falsely accused of heresy, would feel confident about proving your innocence to a court of priests and monks?” She looked around, letting her eyes rest on the prominent women of the town: Lib Wheeler, Sarah Taverner, Susanna Chepstow.

“Why did I mix dyes at night?” she resumed. “Because the days were short! Like many of you, my father failed to sell all his fleeces last year, and I wanted to turn the raw wool into something I could market. It was very difficult to discover the formula, but I did it, by hard work, over many hours, day and night – but without the help of Satan.” She paused for breath.

When she began again, she used a different tone of voice, more playful. “I am accused of bewitching Merthin. I have to admit that the case against me is strong. Look at Sister Elizabeth. Stand up, please, sister.”

Reluctantly, Elizabeth stood.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Caris said. “She is also clever. And she is the daughter of a bishop. Oh, forgive me, my lord bishop, I meant no disrespect.”

The crowd chuckled at that cheeky stab. Godwyn looked outraged, but Bishop Richard smothered a smile.

“Sister Elizabeth cannot see why any man would prefer me to her. Nor can I. Unaccountably, Merthin loves me, plain as I am. I cannot explain it.” There was more giggling. “I’m sorry Elizabeth is so angry. If we lived in Old Testament times, Merthin could have two wives and everyone would be happy.” They laughed loudly at that. She waited for the sound to subside, then said gravely: “What I am most sorry about is that the commonplace jealousy of a disappointed woman should become the pretext, in the untrustworthy mouth of a novice monk, for a charge as serious as that of heresy.”

Philemon stood up to protest the charge of untrustworthiness, but Bishop Richard flapped a hand at him, saying: “Let her speak, let her speak.”

Caris decided she had made her point about Elizabeth, and moved on. “I confess that I sometimes use vulgar words when I am alone – especially if I stub my toe. But you may ask why my own brother-in-law would testify against me and tell you that my mutterings were invocations to evil spirits. I’m afraid I can answer that.” She paused, then spoke solemnly. “My father is ill. If he dies, his fortune will be divided between me and my sister. But, if I die first, my sister will get it all. And my sister is Elfric’s wife.”

She paused again, looking quizzically at the crowd. “Are you shocked?” she said. “So am I. But men kill for less money than that.”

She moved away, as if she had finished, and Philemon got up from his bench. Caris turned around and addressed him in Latin. “Caput tuum in ano est.”

The monks laughed loudly, and Philemon flushed.

Caris turned to Elfric. “You didn’t understand that, did you, Elfric?”

“No,” he said sulkily.

“Which is why you might have thought I was using some sinister witchcraft tongue.” She turned back to Philemon. “Brother, you know what language I was using, don’t you?”

“Latin,” Philemon replied.

“Perhaps you would tell us what I just said to you.”

Philemon looked an appeal at the bishop. But Richard was amused, and just said: “Answer the question.”

Looking furious, Philemon obeyed. “She said: ‘You’ve got your head up your arse.’ ”

The townspeople roared with laughter, and Caris walked back to her place.

When the noise died down, Philemon began to speak, but Richard interrupted him. “I don’t need to hear any further from you,” he said. “You’ve made a strong case against her, and she has mounted a vigorous defence. Does anyone else have anything to say about this accusation?”

“I do, my lord bishop.” Friar Murdo came forward. Some of the townspeople cheered, others groaned: Murdo aroused contrary reactions. “Heresy is an evil,” he began, his voice modulating into fruity preaching mode. “It corrupts the souls of women and men-”

“Thank you, brother, but I know what heresy does,” said Richard. “Do you have anything else to say? If not-”

“Just this,” Murdo replied. “I agree with, and reiterate-”

“If it has been said before-”

“-your own comment that the case is strong, and the defence similar.”

“In which case-”

“I have a solution to propose.”

“All right, Brother Murdo, what is it? In the minimum number of words.”

“She must be examined for the Devil’s Mark.”

Caris’s heart seemed to stop.

“Of course,” said the bishop. “I seem to remember you making the same suggestion at an earlier trial.”

“Indeed, lord, for the devil greedily sucks the hot blood of his acolytes through his own special nipple, as the newborn babe sucks the swollen breasts-”

“Yes, thank you, friar, no need for further details. Mother Cecilia, will you and two other nuns please take the accused woman to a place of examination?”

Caris looked at Merthin. He was pale with horror. They were both thinking the same.

Caris had a mole.

It was tiny, but the nuns would find it – in just the kind of place they thought the devil was most interested in: on the left side of her vulva, just beside the cleft. It was dark brown, and the red-gold hair around did not hide it. The first time Merthin had noticed it, he had joked: “Friar Murdo would call you a witch – you’d better not let him see it.” And Caris had laughed and said: “Not if he were the last man on earth.”

How could they have spoken of it in such a carefree way? Now she would be condemned to death for it.

She looked around desperately. She would have run, but she was surrounded by hundreds of people, some of whom would stop her. She saw Merthin’s hand on the knife at his belt; but, even if the knife had been a sword and he had been a great fighter – which he was not – he could not have cut his way through such a crowd.

Mother Cecilia came to her and took her hand.

Caris decided she would escape as soon as she got outside the church. Crossing the cloisters she could easily break free.

Then Godwyn said: “Constable, take one of your deputies and escort the woman to the place of examination, and stand outside the door until it is done.”

Cecilia could not have held Caris, but two men could.

John looked at Mark Webber, normally his first choice among the deputies. Caris felt a faint hope: Mark was a loyal friend to her. But the constable apparently had the same thought, for he turned from Mark and pointed to Christopher Blacksmith.

Cecilia tugged gently on Caris’s hand.

As if sleepwalking, Caris allowed herself to be led out of the church. They left by the north door, Cecilia and Caris followed by Sister Mair and Old Julie, with John Constable and Christopher Blacksmith close behind. They crossed the cloisters, entered the nuns’ quarters and made their way to the dormitory. The two men stayed outside.

Cecilia closed the door.

“No need to examine me,” Caris said dully. “I’ve got a mark.”

“We know,” said Cecilia.

Caris frowned. “How?”

“We have washed you.” She indicated Mair and Julie. “All three of us. When you were in the hospital, two Christmases ago. You had eaten something that poisoned you.”

Cecilia did not know, or was pretending not to have guessed, that Caris had taken a potion to end her pregnancy.

She went on: “You were puking and shitting all over the place, and bleeding down there. You had to be washed several times. We all saw the mole.”

Hopeless despair washed over Caris in an irresistible tide. She closed her eyes. “So now you will condemn me to death,” she said in a voice so low it was almost a whisper.