‘Welcome to my manor,’ he said. We were on Cuddy’s land: the manor Richard had bought from Hal to grant to Cuthbert and Hilda, as I had requested. From Middleham Castle we had ridden in driving rain through a maze of treeless, stone-walled sheep pastures and forded the Cover Beck with the water up to our horses’ hocks but I could not complain because it was I who had insisted that we travel by the back route in order to be unobserved. I blinked the moisture from my eyelashes and peered out from under the hood of my dripping cloak. I had been expecting a manor house but what I saw before me looked more like some kind of stone-built animal shelter, albeit a large one. ‘It is a barn, Cuddy.’ I tried to keep my tone light but my disappointment must have been clear. Cuthbert threw back his head, showering water off the brim of the beaver hat he wore and to my indignation he laughed. ‘Oh, what a duchess you truly are, Cis!’ he spluttered. ‘Have you never seen a bastle before?
