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make it their own.” Hal covered his eyes and bowed his head as if in prayer in case someone in the congregation saw the glint of a tear in his eye. After a while he opened his eyes and looked down at the sons she had foreseen all those years ago.
    Tom was the closest to him in spirit and flesh, big boned and strong for his age, with the eye and hand of a warrior. He was restless, easily bored by routine or any task that called for long, meticulous concentration. He was no scholar, but neither did he lack in brain or cunning. In looks, he was pleasant but not handsome, for his mouth and nose were too large, but he had a strong, determined face and heavy jaw. He was impulsive and sometimes rash, almost fearless, often too bold for his own good. The bruises on his face were faded now to yellow and ugly purple, but it was typical of Tom to rush in against someone so much older and of twice his strength, without a thought for the consequences.
    Hal had learned the truth of the confrontation in the woods below the chapel: William had told him of Mary, the scullery maid and she had made to him an almost incoherent confession, sobbing bitterly the while.
    “I’m a good girl, sir, God’s truth I am. I didn’t steal nothing like he said I did. It was just a bit of fun, nothing bad.
    Then Master William he came into the chapel and he said bad things to me, and he beat me.” Weeping copiously she had pulled up her skirts to show the great flaming weals across her thighs.
    Hal had said hastily, “Cover yourself, girl.” He could guess just how innocent she was. He had noticed her before, although he usually took scant interest in the two dozen or so females who worked in the main house, for she had a saucy eye and a voluptuous turn of buttock and bosom that was difficult to overlook.
    “Master Tom tried to stop him, else he would have killed me, Master William would. He’s a good boy, is Master Tom. He didn’t do nothing-” So Tom had cut his teeth on this bit of sweet meat, Hal thought. It would do the lad no harm. She had probably given him a good grounding in the old game, and when William had caught them at it, Tom had rushed to her defence. The sentiment was praiseworthy, but the action was foolhardy: the object of his knight errantry hardly worthy of such fierce loyalty.
    Hal had sent the girl back to the kitchens and had a quiet word with his steward. Within two days he had arranged other employment for her as a serving-wench at the Royal Oak in Plymouth, and she had disappeared quietly from High Weald. Hal didn’t want her knocking at his door in nine months” time to present them with a bundle.
    He sighed softly. It was not long now before he would have to find other employment for Tom too. He could not stay here much longer.
    He was almost a man. Aboli had recently started Tom’s lessons with the sword, Hal had delayed this until the boy had the strength in his arms: he had seen youngsters who had been spoiled by a too early start with the blade. He shuddered abruptly as he thought of Tom in another fit of rage calling out his elder brother: William was a swordsman of note. He had severely wounded a fellow student at Cambridge with a thrust through the lower chest. It had been an affair of honour but it had taken all Hal’s influence and a purse of gold guineas to keep it quiet. Duelling was legal, but frowned upon; had the man died, even Hal might not have been able to shield his son from the consequences.
    The thought of two of his sons taking up their feud with blades did not bear thinking about, Yet it might become more than a possibility if he did not separate them soon. He would have to find Tom a berth in one of the ships of John Comp the affectionate sobriquet for the English East India Company. Tom sensed his father’s gaze upon him and turned to give him such a frank, guileless grin that Hal had to look away.
    Guy sat beside his twin. Guy was another problem, Hal mused, but of a different sort from