“She won’t sell herbs on a Sunday,” Rob reminded him.

“I can tell her what I need, and she can bring them to the Priory when she is passing,” James invented.

Overhead, above the thick gray clouds, he could hear the flocks of winter geese coming in to roost on the shingle beds out in the harbor, and once, the unearthly creaking noise of swans’ wings. It was too dark to see anything but the track beneath their feet and the occasional glimpse of a slim moon between the raveled clouds. Rob went sure-footed on the well-known twisting paths but James had to follow him carefully. He could not even see the route that the boy was taking.

“And your mother is well?” he asked, trying to keep up.

“Winter’s always hard on the mire,” Rob answered. “And Alys had to work on the ferry every day, even on the coldest days, and my mother was afraid every moment that she was out on the rife. When I went over to take a turn it was even worse for her. She’s terrified of deep water. But she’s well enough. It’s more comfortable living in the ferry-house, than in the old cottage.”

“They’re in the ferry-house? Why did they move from the cottage?”

Rob looked away from his tutor, ashamed of his father’s desertion. “We’re going to tell everyone that we think my father is dead,” he said. “After Alys’s wedding. But for my mother to keep her work and her good name, she can’t be seen as a woman living alone.” He stumbled and stopped and turned to his tutor. “It’s better for her to be thought of as a widow, under the protection of her brother, especially when Alys and I leave home. I am sorry to lie, sir. But we really have to.”

James dropped his hand on Rob’s hunched shoulder. “You’re doing the right thing,” he said. “It’s no shame to you, nor to her, that your father chose not to come home. It’s no lie to say that you don’t expect him. And I’ll tell no one that I saw him in Newport. He’s dead to me, too.”

Rob visibly brightened. “It’s such a little island. She can’t live here without a good name.”

“And Alys is to be married?” James turned the conversation from the boy’s discomfort, as they started to walk again.

“Next Sunday. She’s had to save every penny for her dowry.”

“Your mother must be happy for her.”

“It’s taken all of her savings.”

James thought he was a fool not to have sent money. But how would she have explained it? And he would have been stealing money that had been given for his work for the king. He had no money of his own. How could he have robbed the cause he was sworn to, for the woman that he was forbidden to love? But the thought of Alinor in hardship made him flush with shame.

“Your uncle Ned should never have left her for so long,” he said irritably.

“It was Alys that did the ferry. Ma wouldn’t touch it. D’you really believe that my father isn’t coming home, sir?”

James was glad to climb the bank that led towards the rife and see the looming darkness of Ferry-house. “It’s what he said. And better for your mother if he does not, don’t you think?”

“Better for Alys too. The Stoneys would never have her if my da was still here.”

“And better for you?”

Rob flushed. “The apothecary wouldn’t have me as an apprentice if he met my da.”

“Your mother will be a free woman in six years,” James said.

“That’s such a long time,” Rob said, as a young man will say, and James—a young man only twenty-two years old himself—could not disagree.

They reached the ferry-house door. Rob turned the latch and the door yielded. “Mr. Summer came with me,” he said as he went in and James stepped in behind him.

After the darkness of the harbor, the room was bright, though it was only lit by firelight and rushlights. Ned was seated at the table, sharpening a pocket knife, Alinor and Alys either side of the fire, spinning, with their distaffs propped beside them and their spindles whirling at their feet. As James came in, Alinor jumped up with a gasp, her spindle skittering away under the settle.

“You’re very welcome,” she said, recovering.

“I thought I’d walk over with Robert,” James said awkwardly. “I thought I’d ask you for some herbs against my fever . . . if it comes back again. I didn’t mean to disturb you all.”

Ned barely raised his eyes from his work but bobbed his head in a nod.

“Will you take a glass of ale?” Alinor asked. “Please, sit.” She gestured to her stool at the fireside.

“Thank you, and then I’ll walk back by the road.”

“Dark night,” Ned observed.

“Yes indeed.”

There was a silence as Alinor went to the cool buttery at the back of the house and drew a glass of ale each for James and Rob, and then brought another for Ned. Rob sat beside her on the bench against the wall.

“Is it strange to be home?” James asked Ned.

Ned shrugged. “It’s not the life I’d have chosen, but none of us can live the life we’d have chosen.” He paused. “Maybe you can,” he said. “Maybe his lordship does.”

“Not anymore,” James said honestly. “I never thought this would happen, and I never thought it would end this way.”

Ned put his knife carefully in the worn leather sheath and put the whetstone to one side. “Pity that you didn’t,” he said gruffly. “Could’ve been stopped years ago.”

“I agree,” James said, trying to find some common ground. “I have thought for a long time that we should have found a way ahead without going to war. That we should have made an agreement so that we could find a way to end our differences and live together.”

“Well, now we have,” Ned said with a little smile. “Though p’raps not the agreement you’d have wished. Can you live in this new England?”

“I hope to,” James said. “I hope to regain my home, and I hope to live there, with my family, and help . . .”

“Help what?”

“The ruling and governing of the kingdom . . . of the country.”

Ned raised his head and stared at James as if he could not believe the quiet words. “And why should you, and the likes of you, rule and govern us, when you’ve disturbed our peace for nearly ten years?”

James swallowed. “Because I am an Englishman and I want to live in peace.”

“I’m sure we all want peace,” Alinor interrupted.

Ned smiled at her. “Aye. I know you do, Sister. And I hope that we’ll have it now. What’s your opinion on how the country should be run?”

Alinor flushed a little. “Ah, Ned, you know I only know my trade. I think midwives should be licensed, and women should be churched after their confinement. For the rest—how would I know?”

James had a sudden sharp memory of his mother’s astute vision, which had guided their family through years of change; she knew the world as well as her husband, and could calculate political advantage quicker than any man.

“Are you in favor of petticoat government?” James asked Ned, trying to smile.

“I’d rather be ruled by good-hearted women than by all the cavaliers who will be turning their collars, and flocking back to their houses, now they’ve lost.”