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rooms branching from it. To the right of Wynn was the huge and extravagant black marble staircase. It curled around then joined onto a balcony which overlooked the hall.
         Carefully Wynn squeezed past two maids who were scrubbing the marble staircase, taking extra care on the banister, cleaning the gold which was delicately inlaid within the black marble. They maids did not bother to move, and Wynn had to delicately negotiate her way up the wet steps. She reached the top of the stairs and knocked on the first door on the left. There was no answer. She waited for a few moments, casting her eyes over the balcony and the paintings and tapestries which decorated the wall. A hall followed straight from the stairs, doors lined either side of the walls. Large windows above the balcony allowed sunlight to flood into the Manor, the white and black marble contrasting elegantly in its golden glow.
         Whilst she waited Wynn heard a commotion in the hall as the butler and the servants underneath her were beginning to trestle the tables in preparation for lunch. The Great Hall where the Master ate his lunch was the last room in the corridor on the bottom floor, the doors had been left open in carelessness and the clatter of cutlery being set on the wooden table echoed around the Manor. Wynn scowled as she thought of the servants that would still be in bed, not required until lunch was to be served, the Ewer, the Cupbearers and Carvers. Wynn rolled her eyes at the still unopened door in front of her and knocked again a little harder.
          “Enter!” A man shouted after a long moment.
         Wynn gritted her teeth before carefully arranging her face so her expression was blank and opened the door slowly, balancing the tray on her knee. She ensured that as she walked in her head was down in respect of the Master. Wynn had never looked around the Master’s room much, only quick glances when he was not looking. She knew a double bed was pushed against the wall in the middle of the room, a wrought iron headboard against the cool whitewash. Windows lined the wall opposite her but now the thick curtains were drawn so that the only light came from sparse candles placed around the room. A large wardrobe sat to the left of Wynn, and a mirror and writing desk sat against the wall to her right. There was not enough furniture to fill the room and Wynn had often wondered how her room could be so cramped when she owned far less than the Master.
          Lord Oprend was strewn on his bed beside his wife, who was still asleep. At Wynn’s entrance he smirked but Wynn still had her head lowered and so did not see his face twist gleefully. A knock sounded behind Wynn surprising the Master and wiping the smile from his face, he grunted admission, wishing they would leave but it was only the servant of the Wardrobe. He entered and hovered by his namesake, his face impassive. The Master did not glance at the servant of the Wardrobe instead fixing his attention back on Wynn.
          Running his fingers through his hair he ordered Wynn to set the tray on the writing desk watching as she obeyed, setting the tray on the desk, where the Master ate his breakfast each morning. Ale with white bread, a dish of meat and a dish of fish; an ordinary, if outlandish, meal for a Lord. Wynn then waited to be dismissed. The air between them was tense and Wynn was beginning to feel, once again, uncomfortable in the Master’s presence. The Master glanced over and checked his wife was still asleep, she mumbled something incoherent then rolled over. Satisfied the Master got out of bed, walked over to the other servant present and allowed him to dress him in a silk dressing gown. Wynn shivered, knowing what was coming.
          The Master walked over to her, “Raise your head girl,” he commanded, his voice was deep and Wynn felt the arrogance in his words. Wynn slowly raised her head and her eyes met with the Master’s. It was as though the rest