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sheds. “He deals back and forth for Lord Lovell and some others, too, that doesn’t want to merchant for themselves. He does all right, does Master Penteney. It’s quiet here only for the while.”
    All that explained how Master Penteney could afford to please Lewis to—frankly—excess. What it didn’t explain to Joliffe was why Master Penteney bothered with pleasing him. He held Lewis and Simon’s wardships, yes, and that meant he was responsible for their care and up-raising until they came of age, meanwhile running their inheritance and taking the profits of it. How well or ill a ward was kept depended on their guardian and on how much of a profit he meant to have out of the wardship. A ward could be nearly starved and go in rags the while they were in an unkind person’s keeping, though it was rare for that to happen and there were laws to prevent it; but there was nothing that forced Master Penteney to indulge Lewis with as much care and freedom as he plainly did—not when, as an Eden-child, Lewis could simply have been locked in a room and fed, even removed as heir and Simon put in his place. Joliffe came back to wondering why hadn’t he been.
    They were nearly to the great barn. Reared up to the sky and spread wide to either side of its broad double doorway, it was larger than some village churches Joliffe knew, maybe larger than the hall in the house behind him. Piers bounded out from the shadowy inside and called “Come on! Wait ’til you see!”
    The others went ahead. Although horse and cart would go easily through the doorway, Joliffe stopped and spoke to Tisbe, then left her standing outside before he followed the others into the high-raftered space, thick with shadows after the bright day outside, in time to hear Matthew say, “All the rain this spring brought the grass along. With the good weather these past few weeks, Master Penteney had some meadows mowed, making early hay on the chance the weather turns again, the way it has these past two summers and we get to make no more hay. There’s not much, though, and still plenty of room for you.” He raised his voice. “Master Fairfield, you stay off that mow! You got your good clothes on!”
    Well away toward the far end of the barn and the golden mound of hay there, Lewis and Piers pulled up short and looked at each other, before Lewis hunched his shoulders toward his ears in a massive shrug and together they turned back.
    “Have my work cut out for me with two of ’em to watch,” Matthew muttered, but it sounded like token grumbling and he added, “Won’t hurt him to have some new company for a change, someone to play with, like, and your boy’s not making fun of him. That’s good.”
    But then, anyone who would let Piers talk and show off all he wanted was going to find him good company, Joliffe thought. The rest of them might even be spared Piers’s chattering at them for the while, if Lewis was willing to listen enough.
    “You’re welcome to bring your cart right on inside. Settle down wherever you like,” Matthew went on. “Help yourself to hay for bedding if you like. Master Penteney says you’re not to be grudged it if you want it. He says, too, your horse can be put to pasture with his if you like. Save mucking out here, don’t you see, and feeding it since you’re not going to need it these few days.”
    “That’s kind indeed,” Basset said.
    “Where?” Joliffe asked, knowing he’d be the one to take her.
    “You go out the rear gate here into the lane and head north,” Matthew answered. He went on to tell Joliffe how to know the place when he saw it while Rose called to Piers and Lewis, headed now for the cart, “You two leave those baskets alone for now. When we’re settled in, you and Master Fairfield can go through them, Piers, but not yet.”
    “Ask for Walter Glover,” Matthew said “He’s Master Penteney’s pasture-master there. He’ll see you right. He’s a stiff man, is Master Glover. Keeps things