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it. Was this the same man that had set my body aflame with unquenchable fire? “I wonder what God thinks about breakfast?” he rambled on cheerfully. “Now, since He doesn’t eat, with Him it would be purely a theoretical issue, but …”
    “Help me brush the feathers off my back, and I’ll get dressed and find something.”
    “Actually, Margaret, you can’t get out of bed today. If you did, they’d think I hadn’t a heavy enough hand.”
    “But I can’t stay in bed. I haven’t a nursemaid, and I promised the girls they could ride the donkey.”
    “For once, they can wait. You can’t get out of bed until after everyone else, and if anyone speaks to you, moan a bit.”
    “But it’s all feathery in here. I don’t want to stay in bed.”
    “Too bad, that’s an order. After all, who’s master?” He raised a sardonic eyebrow.
    “I’m still hungry. Are you going to starve me up here all morning?”
    “Don’t worry, I’ll send somebody up—if there’s anybody to send.” And he went downstairs whistling.
    Pretty soon there was a clatter of footsteps up the stairs, and a girl in wooden clogs made her way through the bodies to the bed. The noise of her footgear elicited groans, and I could hear her say, “My, what a stink!” before she appeared at the bedside with a tray. It was Cis, the laundress. The sleeves of her old gray wool gown were rolled up and tucked above the elbows. Her butter-yellow hair, damp from steam, was hanging in limp curls around her round face. I had noticed her before, apparently the only woman in a womanless house, a plump, busy little figure who never seemed to be much occupied with laundry. But now that I saw her closer, I saw she was not so much plump as big busted, and short for her age, which must have been around sixteen. She was staring so hard, you’d have thought I was a unicorn.
    “Just look at all them feathers, will you? He must have really done you.”
    I could barely understand her thick country accent. But since I couldn’t honestly bring myself to groan, I just said, “Is that breakfast? Can I have it?”
    She looked down at the tray in surprise, as if she’d forgotten it momentarily. “Yes. He sent it up. I’m sure he’s sorry. You’re lucky. The others are never sorry.”
    What a tactless girl. I wondered how she knew. I started to eat, but she didn’t go away. She just kept staring. Finally I swallowed a bite and asked: “Why are you staring?”
    “Ooo. I’ve never seen a lady before, and I have to remember everything, to tell the others.” Her gaze wandered to the perch.
    “Them your clothes?” she asked, fingering my shift. “Nice. That’s linen, ain’t it?” Then she saw the surcoat hung beneath. Her eyes widened, and she ran her hands over the embroidery. “My, my. That’s gold—and green velvet too. Is it from London?”
    “It was made there, but the material’s from Genoa.”
    “That’s far, isn’t it?”
    “Very far. My former husband brought it on a ship. But tell me, is anyone up downstairs?”
    “Hardly anyone. The inside grooms are still lying in the hall, but Cook’s up, though his head hurts. The outside grooms have taken the horses out, and we was boiling the tablecloths in the courtyard when Master Gilbert came out. Mam told me all about ladies: she saw Lady Bertrande almost every day. But I don’t remember her at all. She died when I was very little. Everybody says she was the greatest lady in the whole world. When she came here after her wedding, she brought chests and chests and chests from her father’s house. And falcons, and hounds, and a white mare, and a lapdog, and two grooms, and a chaplain, and three maids.” Then she looked me over. “You don’t have any maids, do you?”
    “Not here.” I was beginning to be annoyed.
    “But you have got all the rest, haven’t you? The chests and the lap-dog and all, somewhere else?”
    “Yes, of course I do.” How horrid. Judged by my lapdog. I certainly