Chapter 107

That north-easter was not blowing on the night when Mary came up to Castle Craven to share a little fiesta with Lance and the Venerable. It was the Venerable’s birthday. Probyn had been over in the morning with his conception of what a birthday present should be, Probyn the practical, the wool merchant, whose fleece was turning to goblin gold. He had brought a fur-lined overcoat, six flannel shirts, the same number of thick pants and vests, and a precious copy of Gerard’s Herbal. He had swallowed a glass of sherry …