“Ma?” Alys called up from the quay. “Are you all right?”

Alinor looked down at her daughter. “Yes,” she said. “There were no passengers?”

“None that’d want to disembark here,” Alys stated the obvious.

“No,” Alinor said quietly, and went back through the glazed door to her room.

“Alys, come!” came Livia’s impatient cry from inside the warehouse, and Alys went inside and bolted the double doors behind her.

Livia was still standing before her crated goods, one hand on the crate as if she could feel a heartbeat. “I can hardly believe they’re here,” she said breathlessly.

“When will you take them to his house?” Alys asked.

“As soon as you can lend me the wagon.”

Alys nodded, knowing that the wagon would earn no money but would be gone all day.

“As soon as I have them there, I will confirm the date of the showing. I want them to be at their very best.” She turned to Alys. “You will help me, won’t you? You will lend me your wagon and two men, and let me take it to and from the house? You know I’m only doing this for Matteo, for Roberto’s son? So that he can have his inheritance in gold at the goldsmith’s, rather than in lumps of marble left behind in Venice? You know I want to help here? Bring some money in, so that you can move to a cleaner part of the town?”

“And then will you leave us?” Alys remarked, her voice carefully neutral.

There was a pause while Livia took in what her sister-in-law was saying. “Leave you?”

“After your sale?”

“I did not think it,” she said quietly. “Do you want me to leave? I know it is crowded. I know that Matteo means extra work for everyone…”

“No,” Alys stumbled. “Not at all… but I thought… I would want you to stay! I would want you…” She could not say what she wanted; she did not know what she wanted.

But Livia was quick. She clasped her sister-in-law’s hands. “No! My darling! My dearest! Don’t think of me leaving! Have you been thinking that? Don’t dream of it. This is for all of us, for all of us that Roberto loved, even your children will benefit! If I can make a fortune, then we will all buy a new house together and all live together. You will ship my goods, we will have a house and a gallery of antiquities. We will never part. You are my sister, are you not? Mia Suocera is my mother-in-law! We are family, I want no one else! We will live together always. We shall never be parted!”

Alys, her hands tightly clutched, felt her eyes fill with unexpected tears. “Oh! I’m so glad. I thought you would… I didn’t want…”

Livia drew her sister-in-law into her arms, so that her little lacy cap was against Alys’s smooth golden braids. “We will never be parted,” Livia breathed. “You are all the family that is left to me, and I and the baby are all that is left of your brother. Of course, we will always be together, and our fortunes will be as one. You will help me, and I will help you.”

SEPTEMBER 1670, HADLEY, NEW ENGLAND

It was easy for Ned, a man who had been born and bred on the Saxon shore, the band of marshland between deep seas and flooded fields, to remember the times of the year for his letter to Alinor. He wrote in the autumn equinox, when the waters of the swamps rose high under a huge moon, that hung so close in the pearly sky that he could write by its yellow light.

AUTUMN TIDE

MY DEAR SISTER,

I AM SENDING 1 BARREL OF DRIED HERBS AND SOME LABELED SEEDS WHICH YOU CAN SET. THEY LIKE A LIGHT SOIL (LIKE RIVER SILT) AND GOODNESS IN THE SOIL (ANY MUCK. WE USE FISH). 1 BOX OF DRIED SASSAFRAS LEAVES. 2 BOXES OF SASSAFRAS DRIED BARK AND ROOTS AND 1 BARREL DRIED FRUITS AND ROOTS. I HAVE PUT A MAPLE LEAF BETWEEN EACH PACKAGE SO YOU CAN SEE THEY HAVE NOT BEEN DISTURBED OR WE ROBBED.

THANK YOU FOR YOURS WHICH CAME SAFE TO ME THOUGH IT BROUGHT SUCH BAD NEWS. NO DOUBT ROB HAS GONE TO THE LIFE ETERNAL, AND WE WHO WILL FOLLOW HIM SHOULD NOT GRIEVE. HIS WAYS ARE MYSTERIOUS INDEED. HOW WE SHOULD LOSE ROB AND NOT OTHERS I DON’T KNOW. I GIVE THANKS TO GOD THAT YOU AND ALYS AND YOUR CHILDREN ARE WELL AND THAT ROB’S WIDOW AND BABY HAVE COME TO YOU.

THINGS GO WELL FOR ME. I HAVE LAID DOWN A CORN STORE THIS SEASON. ONE OF THE WOMEN OF THE PEOPLE SHOWED ME HOW TO DIG A GREAT HOLE IN A SANDBANK, LINE AND SEAL IT WITH CLAY, AND WRAP MY DRY CORN COBS SO THAT THEY DON’T SPOIL. I HAVE DRIED MY BEANS AND STORED THE SQUASH, I HAVE SMOKED FISH. MY FRIENDS IN THE VILLAGE WILL TAKE ME ON A DEER HUNT WITH THEM FOR WINTER MEAT. I HAVE SAVED SEEDS TO PLANT IN SPRING FROM MY GARDEN AND GATHERED NUTS AND SEEDS FROM THE WOODS. THEY HAVE PLANTS THAT WERE STRANGE TO ME AT FIRST, BUT NOW I GROW THEM AND HARVEST THEM. THE SQUASHES ARE LIKE OUR MARROWS, ONLY STRANGELY SHAPED AND COLORED. THE NATIVE WOMEN GROW THEM ALONGSIDE BEANS AND MAIZE AND THEY CALL THEM THE SISTERS AND SAY YOU MUST GROW AND COOK THE THREE TOGETHER. THE APPLE TREE WHIP THAT YOU SENT ME LAST YEAR HAS TAKEN, BORE THREE LITTLE APPLES AND I HAVE SAVED THE SEEDS TO PLANT IN SPRING. THE FORESTS ARE FULL OF BERRIES AT THIS SEASON, ONE CALLED A CRANBERRY GROWS IN THE SWAMPS IN THE POOREST OF SOIL. IT IS SHARPER EVEN THAN A RED CURRANT BUT MAKES A VERY GOOD JAM. WHEN THEY’RE FULLY RIPE I WILL FILL ALL THE JARS THAT I OWN, WHICH ARE NOT MANY AS THEY’RE SHIPPED FROM ENGLAND. I MOSTLY USE GALLEY POTS MADE FROM CLAY BY THE NATIVE WOMEN THAT ARE SO STRONG THEY CAN BE SET IN THE EMBERS LIKE AN IRON KETTLE. I SEAL THEM WITH PARCHMENT AND STRING AND BEESWAX WHEN THEY COOL. YES! I HAVE FINALLY TRADED FOR A SWARM OF ENGLISH BEES. VERY FIERCE—I ONLY WISH YOU WERE HERE TO BEFRIEND THEM.

I NEED NO CANDLES! I USE CANDLEWOOD CUT FROM PITCH PINES. THE SPLINTERS BURN LIKE A CANDLE AND IT YIELDS TURPENTINE. I AM LAYING IN FIREWOOD AGAINST THE WINTER AND REPAIRING THE CRACKS IN THE CABIN WITH CLAY AND SAP FROM THE TREES MIXED TOGETHER. I HAVE SHIELDED ONE WALL WITH SHINGLES TO KEEP OUT THE COLD. IF THERE IS TIME I SHALL PUT ON AN EXTRA LAYER OF THATCH WHICH THE NATIVE PEOPLE BRING UPRIVER FROM THE COAST. THE NATIVES TELL ME THAT I SHOULD DOUBLE THE THICKNESS EVERY YEAR AS THE REEDS DRY OUT AND SETTLE AND THE WINTERS HERE ARE BITTER WITH SNOW FOR MONTHS. I AM BETTER PREPARED EVERY YEAR.

I WILL HAVE NO VISITORS FROM WINTER TILL THAW, EXCEPT THE NATIVE PEOPLE WHO WALK ALIKE THROUGH SNOW AND HEAT. ONE OR TWO OF THEM WILL COME TO ME WITH DRIED MEATS AND STORED CORN TO SHARE, AND I WILL GIVE THEM AN EGG OR TWO IF ANY OF THE HENS WILL LAY THROUGH THE COLD WEATHER. I HAVE TO BRING THEM INDOORS—JUST LIKE YOU HAD THEM AT YOUR OLD HOME. THEY WOULD DIE OF COLD OTHERWISE. THEY THINK IT RIGHT TO ROOST ON MY FEET ON MY BED, AND WHEN I TURN IN THE NIGHT THEY CLUCK AT ME FOR DISTURBING THEM.

I TRUST THE NEW KING IS NOT TURNING PAPIST OR TYRANT? WE GET SO LITTLE NEWS HERE AND MOST OF THE SETTLERS ARE INDIFFERENT TO HIM—PROVIDED HE STAYS AT A DISTANCE AND DOES NOT TRY TO RULE US! HERE WE ARE FREE OF EVERYTHING BUT THE RULE OF THE ELDERS, AND IF YOU DON’T LIKE THEM, YOU CAN TAKE YOUR MUSKET AND BED ROLL AND GO—THERE IS A WHOLE COUNTRY TO ROAM. THEY MAY TRY—BUT NOBODY CAN MUSTER OR ORDER ME—AND THIS IS WHAT I WANTED ALL THOSE YEARS AGO WHEN MY COMRADES IN THE ARMY SAID THAT WE MEN MIGHT RULE OURSELVES, OWN OUR OWN LAND, AND CALL NO MAN MASTER.

I THINK OF YOU AT FULL MOON. GOD BLESS YOU ALL,

YOUR LOVING BROTHER

NED.