'But, Jabez, surely—'

'Do you defy me?' He turned his wrath on her instead, looming very large and threatening above my chair. 'By God! Do you think to defy me?' I saw the terrible intent in his eyes an instant before he moved, but I was powerless to 3o stop him. Before I could protect the child, he was torn from my arms and, with a cruel gesture, dashed against the stone hearth where he fell like a discarded plaything, twisted and broken. 'I am the master of my house,' my uncle thundered, 'and by heaven, you'll not question it again!'

Shock kept me silent, a screaming protest trapped within my tightly constricted throat. My uncle stood motionless for a moment, glaring down upon us like the ruler of the damned, then turning sharply on his heel he left our presence, and the front door banged to in the hall behind him. A heartbeat later I heard the sound of a single horse heading in the direction of the village, and Crofton Hall.

It was that sound, and the accompanying thought, that roused me from my stupor. Dazed, I lifted my head and turned to look at Caroline, who had flung herself with a wild cry across the room and crumpled on the flaming hearth, her arms wrapped tenderly around the lifeless body of her son. Her body rocked convulsively, her lips moving in a mumbled song of comfort, but he was far beyond her touch. I looked once into her eyes and could not bring myself to look again. They were dead eyes, dead and flat and inhuman. It was as though the horror of what she'd just seen had pushed her anguished mind past all sufferance, leaving but an empty shell where once there had lived a human soul. It was a painful thing to see.

'Caroline.' I spoke softly, imploringly. 'Caroline, we cannot stay here.'

She did not answer me, yet I pressed onward, resolute.

'Jabez has lost his reason, Caroline. 'Tis dangerous to wait for his return. We must seek help.'

The hollow eyes stared through me, unresponsive.

'Wait here for me,' I said to her. 'I will but be a moment.' I did not wait to mark whether she had heard my instruction, but swung my cloak down from its nail behind the back door and, wresting back the latch, stumbled out into the night.

The dovecote was dark as a tomb inside, the thrumming of the birds a weird accompaniment to the frantic beating of my own heart. The trapdoor was closed. I pulled on the rope to open it, grateful for the rush of clean night air and the ethereal shaft of moonlight that pierced the living darkness, giving me light enough at least to see the faint suggestion of walls surrounding me.

Groping my way along the wall, I nearly sobbed my relief as my fingers touched the broken ledge of an empty nesting box. If there was a God, I thought feverishly, the key would still be there. The key that Richard had placed there for my use some two months earlier. The key that would admit me to the courtyard of the manor house. There would be safety there, I knew—safety at least for Caroline, Richard's servants would see to that. For my part, there could be no sanctuary until Richard was delivered from my uncle.

/ have seen the devil's blood, my uncle had said, and the words ran like ice through my veins. Was Richard wounded, then? No, of course he wasn't, I told myself staunchly. Had he been wounded, my uncle would surely have gloated over the fact. Perhaps Richard had ridden the whole way to Oxford with the king. Oh, please, I prayed, let him have the sense to stay with the king. Do not let him return home tonight. ...

My knuckles scraped raw against the jagged stone as my fingers closed around the key, and I drew it forth hurriedly, gripping it tightly as I ran back across the yard to the house.

Caroline was sitting primly in a chair, waiting for me, her cloak neatly fastened about her shoulders. With careful hands she wrapped a shawl around the lifeless baby in her lap. 'He might take cold,' she explained, speaking low as if she feared to wake him.

My heart wrenched painfully in my chest, but I made no protest. Now was not the time to break her fantasy. 'Come, then,' I beckoned to her, and together we went out of the somber house, closing the door behind us.

Not once did Caroline ask where I was taking her, nor show the slightest interest in her surroundings. She followed 3o behind me blindly, silently, clutching her dead child tightly to her breast. The night was cool, and fair, spread bright beneath a pale and shining moon. It was the kind of night that the hunted things fear, a night when your own shadow chased you across the fields and even the forest could not shield you from the waiting, watching eyes.

We passed swiftly through the trees toward the Hall, skirting wide around both church and stables to approach the house by the western wall. At the edge of the stableyard another shadow scurried past us, and I gasped in terror before I saw it for what it was—only a prowling, timid dog, its tail between its legs. I fancied I heard another indrawn breath besides my own, but Caroline had made no sound and I put it down to a strained imagination and the echo of the wind.

It was a simple matter to find the low door nestled in the courtyard wall, but my trembling fingers took three passes to fit the key to the lock. Once fitted it turned easily, and as the door swung inward on its oiled hinges I ushered Caroline in before me, hastily locking the door again behind us. Pressing Caroline back against the wall, where the shadows lay deepest, I raised a finger to my lips and warned her not to speak.

'Wait here,' I whispered. She hugged her baby and nodded dumbly, her eyes dull and uninterested.

A yellow stream of light spilled into the courtyard from the library, and I made my way cautiously in that direction, lifting my skirts so they would not rustle against the grass. My heart pounded in my throat as I neared the open doorway, then stopped altogether when strong arms grabbed me from behind in a grip of iron, hauling me into the light.