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The thought
     that Agnes could be so empathetic made her smile. Agnes was the least thoughtful or considerate woman Juliana had ever known.
    Poor Agnes. Juliana stole a look at her, considering her features. In profile, they had grown more sharp and intolerant, much
     as many an older maid’s would. She had not been fortunate, of course. It was sad to have to say so, but the last years had
     not been kind to her, whereas of course Juliana herself had been enormously lucky. After all, she had a man who doted upon
     her. Where Agnes was lonely and dependent on others wealthier than herself, Juliana had money and security. And love, of course.
    When the service was concluded, she walked outside with her sister, and she was surprised to see that the stranger wastalking to the receiver, the most important man in the city’s hierarchy. Perhaps he was worth getting to know after all, she
     thought. And then she noticed the depth of his green eyes and found herself modifying her initial view.
    Yes – she could understand Agnes’s interest. Handsome and powerful, this man could make her sister a good match. Juliana would
     speak to her husband at the first opportunity, and learn who he might be.

Chapter Two
    Exeter, November 1323
    Blithely unaware of the impact of his presence on Agnes, Sir Peregrine was soon conversant with the new responsibilities he
     had taken on – or, as he put it, which he must endure. It was an advantage to have the advice of the Keeper of the King’s
     Peace, Sir Baldwin de Furnshill, who was in the city recuperating after being struck in the chest by a bolt.
    Sir Baldwin was already greatly recovered, and when the weather was clement could often be found outside the inn where he
     was staying, his wife ministering to his needs. Always at his side was his servant Edgar, closely observing all those who
     approached his master. Edgar took his duties seriously, and his key role here was the guardian and protector of Sir Baldwin.
    It was on the vigil of St Martin’s Day that Sir Peregrine would later feel that the case started. Although it had no resonance
     of especial significance for him when he first approached Sir Baldwin, in due course he would come to realize that this was
     the day on which God decided to play His cruellest trick on him. At the time, however, he had no inkling of the fate God held
     in store for him.
    The convalescent knight was sitting on a bench indoorswhile his physician, Ralph of Malmesbury, studied his urine in a tall glass flask, holding it up in the sunlight shafting
     through a high window. ‘I don’t want my patient upset or excited today,’ Ralph said, sucking his teeth as he sniffed the urine
     thoughtfully. ‘The stars aren’t good for that. Not this week.’
    Sir Peregrine had a healthy respect for battle-trained surgeons, because he had seen their skills demonstrated on the field
     of war, but for others, such as this piss-tinkering prick, he had none. He ignored the man. ‘Godspeed, Sir Baldwin. My Lady
     Jeanne, my sincerest compliments. You grow ever more beautiful!’
    Sir Baldwin’s wife smiled in a rather embarrassed manner at being so praised, but she was also pleased. She knew Sir Peregrine
     was not prone to idle flattery.
    He could not help but admire her. Lady Jeanne de Furnshill was a tall woman in her early thirties, entirely unspoiled by motherhood.
     Sir Peregrine had seen many women lose their attractiveness and charm when they had become mothers, but not Jeanne. She still
     had bright blue eyes that brought to mind cornflowers in a meadow on a summer’s day, and red-gold hair that reminded him of
     warmth at the fireside. Neither had faded with the years. She was slender, but not weakly; her face was a little too round,
     perhaps, her nose maybe a bit short and slightly tip-tilted, and her upper lip was very wide and rather too full, giving her
     the appearance of stubbornness. Yet all gathered together, her features made her an intensely