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hopeful. I’d be wary ofhim, if I were you. Conflicting loyalties make for difficulties. But the question is: do you like him?’
    I shook my head, turned my face away.
    â€˜If you wish to keep your own counsel, it’s your choice.’
    This made me feel churlish. ‘How do I know if I can trust him?’ I asked this worldly woman.
    â€˜Has he given you a gift?’ I shook my head. ‘If he does it shows he has designs on your respectability.’
    â€˜Oh.’ I thought about this. Not that any gift had been offered. ‘So I should refuse any such gift?’
    Her eye gleamed. ‘I’d not say that. I’d say accept any gift he makes you.’ The gleam brightened to a twinkle as if she had been the recipient of many gifts in her past life. ‘It may well be that it is the sign of a true regard, if he is willing to spend money on you and he matches the gift well to your inclination. And before you argue that it is too particular, the great Capellanus says—have you read Capellanus?—well, he says that a woman who is loved may freely accept from her lover a mirror or a girdle or a pair of gloves.’
    â€˜So if he gives me a gift of a mirror he loves me true?’ I found myself smiling.
    â€˜Of course.’ But her answering smile was sly. ‘Unless he merely wishes to lure you into his bed. Only you can tell. You need to balance the good against the bad in any relationship, mistress. But I’d say take him, if you would. I have taken a lover, and enjoyed the experience.’
    I thought about this too. I could well imagine, as I took in the expanse of her comfortable figure, assessing the quality of her enveloping cloak and her stocky grey palfrey. She was not without means.
    â€˜And sin?’ I asked bluntly, startling even myself. ‘What about sin? What about adultery, if I take this man to my bed?’
    â€˜Sin!’ She brushed the word away as if it were a troublesome gnat. ‘Will God punish us for snatching at happiness in a world that brings a woman precious little of it? I say not. I live a good life, I give charity to the starving, I confess my sins and find absolution. Would God begrudge me a kiss or the warm arms of a man on a cold night? I’m too old to look for marriage, I think. Now you’ll be an object of admiration and desire. You’re comely, and doubtless fertile, mistress.’
    And Mistress Saxby raised her harsh voice—much like the raucous jays that hopped along the hedgerows—in song.
    â€˜Love is soft and love is sweet, and speaks in accents fair;
    Love is mighty agony, and love is mighty care:
    Love is utmost ecstasy and love is keen to dare
,
    Love is wretched misery: to live with, it’s despair…’
    She leaned to nudge me with a knowing elbow.
    â€˜But to live without it is even worse,’ she added in an aside accompanied by an arch look.
    I was sorry to see her go at Lincoln.
    â€˜I need to offer a prayer for inflammation of the knees,’ she said with a roguish wink. ‘And other bits of me. I’ll not be able to go on pilgrimages for ever.’ The badges on her cloak glinted in the cold light. ‘Make the most of your youth, my girl. You’ll regret it if you don’t.’ With broad fingers, surprisingly agile, she unpinned one of her badges showing the Virgin seated in Majesty under a canopy, with the Christ child in her arms. ‘Take this. One of my betterones—pewter rather than lead—can’t afford the silver. From Our Lady’s Shrine at Walsingham. She’ll keep you safe.’
    Mistress Saxby patted my hand as her face grew sombre. ‘If you do take this man, what I would say is: beware of the wife. It’s easy to be carried away by the glamour of stolen kisses, but a wife can make your life a misery. Take my word for it.’
    â€˜I have no intention of crossing the path of his wife.’
    Mistress Saxby’s