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check on progress. It had been interesting to note how the character of the house had slowly changed; in the beginning, when there were gaping holes in the roof and spiteful draughts under ill-fitting – or totally missing – doors, the spirit of the miserable and moaning old woman for whom the house had been built seemed still to be hovering around. The very house had an air of dejection, as if it stood with slumped shoulders feeling sorry for itself. The place had been, Josse had to admit, quite depressing.
    But, as the repairs and renovations progressed, it appeared to Josse that the house began to stand up tall. To hold its head up with a new pride, to say, as its original beauty was slowly – very slowly – restored, See! See what a fine place I am, fit for the knight who is to live here!
    Those were not, however, the sort of thoughts a man mentioned to his builder. And, indeed, when Josse remarked to Brice of Rotherbridge that the house was beginning to welcome its new master when he visited, Brice had shouted with laughter and told Josse not to bring those weird and fanciful foreign ideas over here, thank you very much!
    As well as taking over a part of the late Alard of Winnowlands’s estates, Josse also found himself taking over the man’s servant. Will, who had served and, latterly, nursed Sir Alard with quiet and efficient devotion as the old man slowly and painfully succumbed to the lung rot, had presented himself at the new house one morning when Josse was arguing with the builder about whether or not to turn the western tower into a small solar (an argument which, even though Josse wasn’t entirely sure what he would do with a solar, he won).
    Waiting patiently until the matter was settled, Will then stepped forward, swept off his hood and said, ‘Sir Josse d’Acquin? You won’t remember me, sir, but—’
    ‘I do remember you, Will.’ Josse hurried forward to greet him. ‘How are you?’
    Will gave a faint shrug. He looked thinner than Josse remembered. ‘I do all right.’
    Josse doubted that. The man’s master was dead, after all. With Sir Alard had gone Will’s livelihood. ‘I see.’
    Without preamble, Will said, ‘You’ll likely be needing serving folk for this here house, sir. I know the area, I know the people. I’d take care of you, and your property, if you’ll have me. Watch over your interests, like, when you were from home.’
    Josse stared into the deep eyes for some moments. It was not that he did not trust Will; quite the opposite. What held him back from instantly engaging the man was a certain concern about Will’s temperament. Josse, in the main a light-hearted, optimistic soul, was not sure he could cope with someone as dour of mien as Will.
    ‘I—’ Josse began. Then, after an awkward pause, ‘Will, I – er – I mean, are you over your grieving for Sir Alard? I know that his death hit you hard, and—’
    To Josse’s surprise, Will smiled. The smile broadened, quite altering the severe expression, and Will began to laugh.
    ‘Why not come right out with it, Sir Josse?’ Will said. ‘A cheerful fellow such as yourself doesn’t welcome the idea of having a miserable bugger like me tending to his needs. Isn’t that it?’
    ‘No! Not at all! I—’ But Josse, too, was laughing. ‘Very well. Yes, that’s it. Exactly.’
    Will’s face straightened. ‘Sir, I’ll tell you straight, I thought a deal of Sir Alard, God rest his soul.’
    ‘Amen,’ Josse muttered.
    ‘But he’s gone. I did my best for him, and I’ve nothing on my conscience regarding his death. No nor his life, come to that – we had our ups and downs, did Sir Alard and me, but we understood each other. He knew I was his loyal man. Reckon that’s why he left me a tidy bit, when at last he left us what remains on this earth.’
    ‘Ah.’
    ‘But all that’s in the past,’ Will resumed, ‘and life must go on, like. So, Sir Josse, will you take me on?’
    ‘I will,’ Josse said, ‘right