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wanton? Like a thief in the night?’
    His breath was in my face, smelling of wine and meat.
    I turned away from the chaplain. It was useless to appeal to his finer feelings. He had none.
    ‘Father,’ I begged. ‘I miss Mother. Is it so very bad to want to see her?’
    ‘Address me as Sir Walter, if you please,’ he snapped.
    ‘And don’t pretend you had no motive in coming here. We have been at the door long enough to hear what you are planning.’
    My heart jumped into my mouth as I remembered urging my mother to flee.
    ‘Bring her,’ ordered Sir Walter abruptly. The chaplain nodded. He grasped my arm in a painfully tight grip. I resisted, twisting around to look at Mother. But she sat huddled on the bed, hugging her knees, moaning softly. I wondered what they had done to her to break her spirit so.
    The chaplain marched me out through the door which Sir Walter held open. I gave one last anguished backwards glance. The banging of the door echoed round the tower, and I heard the stolen keys rattle in the lock.
    I was pushed and pulled all the way to my father’s great chamber, my arm twisted painfully behind me. The chaplain left us alone. My father locked the door behind him and pocketed the key. I felt fear beginning to rise in me. The father I had once loved was long gone. In his place stood a wild animal. Unpredictable and dangerous. He might do anything.
    Sir Walter leaned back against the wall and folded his arms.
    ‘So you sneak around the stables eavesdropping on private conversations, do you?’ he asked.
    ‘No, Sir Walter,’ I said, forcing my voice to be meek and casting my eyes down in what I hoped was an apologetic, submissive way. I had discovered over the years that it was the way to provoke the least anger from him. ‘I overheard you quite by chance that day.’
    And how much had Sir Walter heard of our conversation, I wondered, casting my mind back over what had been said. Had he overheard that I smuggled food and notes to Mother? If he had, we were in very serious trouble. Surely he could not have followed me up the staircase in time to have heard that?
    Sir Walter stepped forward, took hold of a handful of my hair and twisted it so that I cried out and was forced to my knees.
    ‘Don’t even think about talking to your future husband about me or my business,’ he hissed in my ear. ‘He knows everything. He is deep in my confidence. And you breathe one word to him, or to anyone else, about your mother, I will know at once. Do you understand me?’
    ‘How can I, when I don’t even know who he is?’ I cried angrily.
    ‘You’ll know soon enough. I asked you if you understand me!’
    ‘Yes, Sir Walter,’ I gasped, the pain of my twisted hair making my eyes water.
    ‘You went to Doctor Horde at the priory once. Do you remember? I found out the very same day.’
    ‘I remember,’ I said bitterly. Dr Horde was the prior of the monastery at Henton Charterhouse. I had gone to him for help years ago, but my father had somehow found out. I had been locked up without food for days. I wondered what my punishment would be this time.
    Abruptly, I was released, and got to my feet panting with relief. Sir Walter was looking at his hand, with the strangest expression on his face. I saw several long auburn hairs lying across his palm. The same colour his own hair had been before it was touched with grey.
    He spoke again and his tone was changed.
    ‘Why, Eleanor?’ he asked. Sir Walter was now gazing at me with such intensity that it made me uncomfortable. ‘Remember you are my daughter,’ he said softly. ‘Why don’t you forget that evil witch, and you and I can be friends? We can be allies.’
    ‘She’s not an evil witch,’ I cried. ‘She’s Mother. And you are wrong to lock her up.’
    ‘How dare you question my actions?’ roared Sir Walter, making me jump. ‘I’ll teach you some manners! And I’ll teach you what will happen to you if you dare to defy me.’
    He stepped back from me