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me nothing; he sounded like what he was: a man given the task of investigating a death, whose personal feelings on the matter, whatever they might be, were irrelevant.
    ‘I did. She – the dead girl – had been wrapped in a shroud and placed in my grandmother’s grave.’
    ‘What were you doing there?’
    ‘I had taken fresh flowers to place on the stone slab that covers the grave.’ I decided not to mention the prayers with which I had hoped to invoke the guardian spirits. This man was undoubtedly a Christian and, whatever his private sentiments, in his official role he had to follow the Norman line.
    ‘And you noticed that this slab had been moved?’
    ‘I did.’
    ‘So you looked down into the grave?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Why?’
    I hadn’t expected the abrupt question. I tried to think back; what had been in my mind? ‘I believe,’ I said slowly, ‘that I feared whoever had moved the stone might have somehow harmed or damaged my grandmother’s body. She is but recently dead, sir, and I loved her dearly.’
    To my surprise and shame, for I thought I was in control of myself, tears formed in my eyes. I lowered my head.
    Sir Alain might have been a newly-appointed official whose responsibilities, presumably, included finding out how the dead girl had died, but still he had room for compassion. I heard a quick movement, and suddenly he was right beside me. He touched my shoulder and said quietly, ‘Nobody has considered your feelings, have they? We are all so preoccupied with this death that we have not spared a thought for the poor young woman who went to pray for her grandmother and instead made such a terrible discovery.’
    I wiped my eyes, sniffed and said, ‘Thank you, sir, but I am all right.’
    I looked up to find that he was studying me. ‘You will be as soon as we can send you back to your family,’ he remarked. Then he stepped away from me and said decisively, ‘Come with me now and show me where the grave is, then you may go home.’
    I raised my chin and met his eyes. ‘Very well, sir.’
    He went on looking at me for a moment, and I thought I saw the hint of a smile. Then he turned to Lord Gilbert, bowed deeply and, spinning round, strode out of the hall. I wondered if I ought to wait to be formally dismissed, but Lord Gilbert, obviously distressed, frustrated and bemused, waved an impatient hand and sent me on my way.
    Out in the courtyard Sir Alain had already mounted. I stared at his beautiful horse. She was a bay mare, and she had a star-shaped mark on her brow. Her black mane and tail flowed free, and her coat gleamed with health. I was going to have to run hard to keep up with her, and my heart sank, for I had already covered quite a distance that morning and I was weary.
    Sir Alain must have seen my face. He leaned down and held out his hand. ‘Come on, she can carry two, and you’re a slim little thing,’ he said.
    I took his hand, and he swung me up behind him. I settled just behind the rear board of the saddle, frantically trying to arrange my skirts to preserve my modesty. He put his heels to the mare’s sides, and she sprang away, causing me to give out a yelp and fling my arms round Sir Alain. ‘No need to stop my breathing!’ he said with a laugh, and I eased my grip. Then I realized that the mare had settled into her stride – an easy, loping canter – and I no longer felt I was about to fall off. Embarrassed, very glad he could not see my hot face, I removed my hands from his firmly-muscled waist and held on to the back of the saddle.
    I leaned forward to call out directions, and very quickly we had covered the ground and the stakes marking the walkway across to the island appeared in the distance. He drew rein as we approached, and I slid down off the mare’s back. He dismounted more slowly, gazing out across the dark waters of the mere.
    ‘What is this place?’ he asked. His voice was soft, almost awed.
    ‘It is an artificial island. It was built a long time ago as