“Not yet,” said his father gaily, as if it were a real possibility that Merthin might become an Italian count; which annoyed Ralph, but only momentarily.

His mother said: “Could we see our rooms?”

Ralph hesitated. What did she mean by ‘our rooms’? The dreadful thought crossed his mind that his parents might think they were going to live here. He could not have that: they would be a constant reminder of the family’s years of shame. Besides, they would cramp his style. On the other hand, he now realized, it was also shameful for a nobleman to let his parents live in a one-room house as pensioners of a priory.

He would have to think more about that. For now he said: “I haven’t had a chance to look at the private quarters myself yet. I hope I can make you comfortable for a few nights.”

“A few nights?” his mother said quickly. “Are you going to send us back to our hovel in Kingsbridge?”

Ralph was mortified that she should mention that in front of William and Philippa. “I don’t think there’s room for you to live here.”

“How do you know, if you haven’t yet looked at the chambers?”

Daniel interrupted. “There’s a villager here from Wigleigh, Sir Ralph – name of Perkin. Wants to pay his respects and discuss an urgent matter.”

Ralph would normally have told the man off for butting into a conversation, but on this occasion he was grateful for the diversion. “Have a look at the rooms, Mother,” he said. “I’ll deal with this peasant.”

William and Philippa went off with his parents to inspect the domestic quarters, and Daniel brought Perkin to the table. Perkin was as obsequious as ever. “So happy to see your lordship safe and whole after the French wars,” he said.

Ralph looked at his left hand, with three fingers missing. “Well, almost whole,” he said.

“All the people of Wigleigh are sorry for your wounds, lord, but the rewards! A knighthood, and three more villages, and Lady Matilda to wed!”

“Thank you for your felicitations, but what was the urgent matter you needed to discuss?”

“Lord, it doesn’t take long to tell. Alfred Shorthouse died without a natural heir to his ten acres, and I offered to take on the land, even though times have been very hard, after this year’s thunderstorms in August-”

“Never mind the weather.”

“Of course. In brief, Nathan Reeve made a decision that I feel you would not approve.”

Ralph felt impatient. He really did not care which peasant farmed Alfred’s ten acres. “Whatever Nathan decided-”

“He gave the land to Wulfric.”

“Ah.”

“Some of the villagers said Wulfric deserved it, as he had no land; but he can’t pay the entry fee, and anyway-”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Ralph said. “I will not allow that troublemaker to hold land in my territory.”

“Thank you, lord. Shall I tell Nathan Reeve that you wish me to have the ten acres?”

“Yes,” Ralph said. He saw the earl and countess emerge from the private quarters, with his parents in tow. “I’ll be there to confirm it in person within the next two weeks.” He dismissed Perkin with a wave.

At that moment, Lady Matilda arrived.

She entered the hall with a nun on either side of her. One was Merthin’s old girlfriend, Caris, who had tried to tell the king that Tilly was too young to marry. On the other side was the nun who had travelled to Crécy with Caris, an angel-faced woman whose name Ralph did not know. Behind them, presumably acting as their bodyguard, was the one-armed monk who had captured Ralph so cleverly nine years ago, Brother Thomas.

And in the centre was Tilly. Ralph saw immediately why the nuns wanted to protect her from marriage. Her face had a look of childish innocence. She had freckles on her nose and a gap between her two front teeth. She stared about her with frightened eyes. Caris had heightened the childish look by dressing her in a plain white nun’s robe and a simple cap, but the clothing failed to hide the womanly curves of the body underneath. Caris had obviously wanted to make Tilly seem too young for wedlock. The effect on Ralph was the opposite of what was intended.

One of the things Ralph had learned in the king’s service was that, in many situations, a man could take charge simply by speaking first. He said loudly: “Come here, Tilly.”

The girl stepped forward and came to him. Her escort hesitated, then stayed where they were.

“I am your husband,” Ralph said to her. “My name is Sir Ralph Fitzgerald, lord of Tench.”

She looked terrified. “I’m happy to meet you, sir.”

“This is your home now, as it was when you were a child and your father was lord here. You are now the lady of Tench, as your mother once was. Are you happy to be back in your family home?”

“Yes, lord.” She looked anything but happy.

“I’m sure the nuns have told you that you must be an obedient wife, and do all you can to please your husband, who is your lord and master.”

“Yes, lord.”

“And here are my mother and father, who are your parents, too, now.”

She made a little curtsey to Gerald and Maud.

Ralph said: “Come here.” He held out his hands.

Automatically, Tilly reached out, then she saw his maimed left hand. She made a disgusted sound and flinched back.

An angry curse came to Ralph’s lips, but he suppressed it. With some difficulty he forced himself to speak in a light tone of voice. “Don’t be afraid of my wounded hand,” he said. “You should be proud of it. I lost those fingers in the service of the king.” He kept both arms stretched out expectantly.

With an effort, she took his hands.

“Now you can kiss me, Tilly.”

He was seated, and she was standing in front of him. She leaned forward and offered her cheek. He put his wounded hand at the back of her head and turned her face, then he kissed her lips. He sensed her uncertainty and guessed that she had not been kissed by a man before. He let his mouth linger on hers, partly because it was so sweet, and partly to enrage those watching. Then, with slow deliberation, he pressed his good hand against her chest, and felt her breasts. They were full and round. She was no child.

He released her and sighed with satisfaction. “We must get married soon,” he said. He turned to Caris, who was visibly suppressing anger. “In Kingsbridge Cathedral, four weeks from Sunday,” he said. He looked at Philippa but addressed William. “As we’re getting married by the express wish of His Majesty King Edward, I would be honoured if you would attend, Earl William.”

William nodded curtly.

Caris spoke for the first time. “Sir Ralph, the prior of Kingsbridge sends you greetings, and says he will be honoured to perform the ceremony, unless of course the new bishop wishes to do so.”

Ralph nodded graciously.

She then added: “But those of us who have had charge of this child believe she is still too young to live with her husband conjugally.”

Philippa said: “I concur.”

Ralph’s father spoke. “You know, son, I waited years to marry your mother.”

Ralph did not want to hear that story all over again. “Unlike you, Father, I have been ordered by the king to marry Lady Matilda.”

His mother said: “Perhaps you should wait, son.”

“I have waited more than a year! She was twelve when the king gave her to me.”

Caris said: “Marry the child, yes, with all due ceremony – but then let her return to the nunnery for a year. Let her grow folly into her womanhood. Then bring her to your home.”

Ralph snorted scornfully. “I could be dead in a year, especially if the king decides to go back to France. Meanwhile, the Fitzgeralds need an heir.”

“She is a child-”

Ralph interrupted, raising his voice. “She is no child – look at her! That stupid nun’s habit can’t disguise her breasts.”

“Puppy fat-”

“Does she have a woman’s hair?” Ralph demanded.

Tilly gasped at his crude frankness, and her cheeks reddened with shame.