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guards and counted everybody in.
    ‘Nothing fresh. It seems King Charles is having to wait for the Spanish to bring all their ships up.’
    Then the attack on the York contingent came out and men were roused from the guardhouse to get out after
them, more as a show of goodwill to the visitors than in the hope of stumbling across the band, for they would be long gone by now. The hostage was thrown into the castle jail for the night until he recovered enough to denounce his comrades.
    Unable to talk confidentially to Thomas in the turmoil of carrying in their baggage, Hildegard looked for a chance as soon as they were being conducted towards their separate quarters. They were lodged in the guest house across the garth from the bishop’s palatial abode, with the large Saxon hall between.
    She tugged urgently at his sleeve. ‘Has anybody said anything to you about why we’ve been asked along?’
    ‘By “anybody” I suppose you mean Hubert?’ Thomas gave a wry smile. ‘Whatever the abbot might know he would surely have told you above anybody.’
    ‘I need to know, Thomas.’
    He became serious. ‘Rest assured, Hildegard, I would tell you if there was anything to tell.’
    ‘Even if you were sworn to secrecy?’
    He took her arm and turned her aside from the toing and froing of servants bringing in the baggage. ‘Do you suspect some secret motive?’
    His grey eyes were as guileless as a child’s.
    ‘I wondered if you’d heard anything?’
    ‘Only that you have knowledge of herbal lore. Hubert mentioned something along those lines. Not that I asked. It’s not my business.’ He smiled down kindly. ‘No one’s sworn me to secrecy. There are no secrets. Even the archbishop’s arthritis is known to every soul in the shire. I’m here to be your shadow wherever you go. You can
trust me.’ He smiled reassuringly. ‘I expect that ambush has made you uneasy? I believe it was merely a chance attack.’ He watched her closely. ‘Do you think there’s more to it?’

Chapter Two
    L incoln. The bishop’s enclave. Early morning. Rain.
    They were scarcely out of prime when a messenger arrived. His horse came splashing into the foregate, and by the time everyone had turned to stare, a man in Neville’s livery was tumbling from the saddle. A group of excited servants hurried him towards the guest quarters.
    Hildegard was called into the archbishop’s audience chamber after the messenger was sent down to the kitchens for a reward of cheese and ale. She was joined by Edwin and Thomas.
    Neville began without preamble. ‘It seems that my unfortunate kitchener did not drown as we believed, or, at least, not before receiving a blow to the back of the head.’ He glowered at the three of them. ‘What d’you make of that?’
    Edwin bit his lip.
    ‘An accident?’ offered Thomas tentatively. ‘He hit his head on the side of the vat, maybe?’
    Neville raised his eyebrows.
    Hildegard spoke up. ‘It sounds to me like foul play.’

    Neville was grim-faced. ‘And so it sounds to me as well. My bailiff has questioned the few servants who remain behind. He has decided not to mention that he found a stout stick lying in the herb beds not far from the door of the brewhouse until he has learnt more. So you’re right, Domina. Indubitably foul play.’
    Edwin spoke up. He sounded shocked. ‘Somebody hit the fellow on the head with the stick, then tried to dispose of his body in the vat?’
    They glanced at each other. But Neville continued. ‘What you’re going to do, Edwin, is look at this list here and tell me what you think.’
    He handed the clerk a piece of vellum with the seal of the Bishopthorpe bailiff dangling from it. Edwin scanned it and looked up. ‘These are the old servants who stayed behind at the palace, Your Grace.’
    ‘They are indeed. And when you call them old you’re right again. Can you imagine any of them picking up a club and bludgeoning a man to death with it?’
    Edwin threw his head back and gave