something about the plays you perform in.’
‘No, I do costume design. I also help out backstage during performances.’
‘And what do you study?’ Haydock asked in a patronizing tone. ‘I mean, such a job is obviously meant to earn a little something on the side while you get your degree.’
‘I already have my degree, in drama and theatre studies. I was very lucky to find a theatre that could take me on right away.’ Guinevere couldn’t resist adding, ‘In London.’
‘I would love to live in London,’ Leah said. She had a warm, melodious voice, and her tense expression relaxed as she took to the topic. ‘All those historic sites and museums to visit.’
‘Then why don’t you move there?’ Oliver said. His tone was a little too loud for a normal question. It was more like a challenge.
Leah flushed the same colour as her trouser suit. She held her head up, but her shoulders slumped as if she was physically trying to remove herself from the scene.
The butler appeared in the door and announced, ‘Kensa and Tegen Morgan.’
A stout woman in her late forties walked in, carrying a twined basket on her arm. She was already dressed in a woollen garb that gave her a medieval look. ‘I made some changes to the script. I’ll hand out the new information right away.’ She reached under the cloth in the basket she was carrying. Dolly came over to see if there were any treats forthcoming.
‘Not again,’ Bolingbrooke said. ‘Why can’t you just leave the play alone?’
‘There are no changes to the text,’ Kensa countered. ‘Just a few directions as to where everybody should be standing. Body posture and so on.’ Kensa threw Leah a pointed look as she said the latter.
Leah said, ‘Guinevere here works in a theatre. I’m sure she knows much better than you how people in a play should behave.’
Guinevere cringed at being drawn into the disagreement in this way, but Kensa ignored the mention completely and started to pass sheets around with brisk movements.
Leah accepted hers but put it on the table right away without even looking at what it said.
Haydock flashed Kensa a smile and even said something in a low voice that Guinevere couldn’t overhear.
Bolingbrooke made an evasive gesture, and Kensa put the paper beside him on a side table. ‘You have a small part anyway. Doesn’t matter much whether you are any good or not.’
‘A small part?’ Bolingbrooke protested. ‘In the Middle Ages the lord of the castle had the power of life and death over the people under his rule. He could decide to have you strung up just because he didn’t like you.’
The girl who had come in with Kensa was still at the door, watching the scene as if the take-charge behaviour embarrassed her.
Their shared surname – Morgan – suggested these two were related, but there was little likeness in their faces. While Kensa was blonde with bags under her eyes suggesting she slept badly, Tegen had wild raven hair and a deep tan as if she was outdoors a lot. She wasn’t in medieval garb either but a green shimmery cocktail dress that ended two inches above the knees.
Tegen focused on Oliver, and her expression lit. ‘I had no idea you were back here, Ollie.’
Oliver didn’t seem to share her enthusiasm for their reunion. He looked at her dress and said, ‘I’m sure polyester wasn’t around in the Middle Ages.’
‘Well, I don’t want to look like an idiot in front of all of those people. Mum says the society is inviting members from other societies to attend. There might even be a piece in the newspapers. I want to look good.’ Tegen smoothed down the short skirt, the silver bracelets on her left arm tinkling. Intrigued by the sound, Dolly came over, and Tegen sat on her haunches at once to scratch the doggy behind the ears. ‘We need a dog too, Mum. Just a small one like this. At Emma’s there was an ad for puppies.’
Kensa’s eyes narrowed. ‘What were you doing at Emma’s?’
Tegen ignored the question and said, ‘Golden retriever puppies. They’re so fluffy and cute.’
Kensa had returned to her basket and looked Oliver over. ‘Don’t they feed you on your travels?’
‘Mum!’ Tegen shot to her feet and elbowed her. ‘He’s just lean.’
Oliver didn’t seem to hear as he lifted the cloth covering off the basket. There were garments inside like the one Kensa wore herself, of coarse dark material. Oliver scoffed as he ran his hand over the fabric. ‘Haydock’s going to wear this? That’ll be the day. Why didn’t he want to be the judge in the play? Be on the good side of the law?’
Looking past him as if he didn’t exist, Haydock said to Kensa, ‘Now that the costumes are ready for us to wear during our rehearsal tonight it will be even more real than other times.’
He seemed to want to catch Kensa’s eye, but she avoided looking at him, fussing with the basket instead. Her reluctance to engage formed a complete contrast with her earlier dominant behaviour.
Oliver pressed Haydock, ‘Why did you want to be Branok?’
Haydock’s eyes flashed a moment. ‘Branok was a resourceful man. Without him this castle would have ended up destitute. He saved it. He should never have been tried.’
‘He wasn’t convicted,’ Oliver scoffed. ‘He got away scot-free.’
‘Scot-free? He was forced to leave the island. Even without any conviction his old life as he had built it was over. Hardly fair.’
‘Fair?’ Kensa hitched a brow. ‘That man was guilty of the death of two small children. Hurting children is the worst thing anyone can ever do.’
There was a short tense silence. Haydock seemed to have flinched under her words as if they struck him across the face.
Then Kensa said in a forced light tone, ‘Do you have the Branok ring?’
‘Yes,’ Haydock said, reaching into his pocket as if to produce it.
Everybody watched him expectantly, but he retracted his hand. ‘When I’m dressed, I’ll put it on.’ He looked around slowly. ‘You’ll be surprised to see it. It’s the genuine article.’
‘I don’t believe you have a ring dating back to Branok’s lifetime,’ Oliver said at once. ‘Where would you have found it?’ He surveyed him suspiciously.
‘Maybe not dating back to Branok’s lifetime, but it’s centuries old. And intimately connected with Cornisea.’ Haydock smiled as he said it, hiding some secret satisfaction related to the ring he carried on his person.
Everybody waited for him to go on, but he didn’t seem willing to reveal more about it right now.
Then Bolingbrooke said, ‘Yes, well, let’s get on with it. Everybody better get dressed and then I’ll lock Branok in the dungeon. Perhaps Oliver can go down there already to light the torches?’
He looked at Guinevere and explained, ‘We still have no electric light in the dungeons. It’s old-fashioned torches along the wall.’
‘More like lanterns with tea lights in it.’ Oliver gestured at her. ‘Do you want to come along? Then you can see the dungeon. Everybody else has already seen it.’
The latter seemed meant to stop Tegen, who appeared about to invite herself along.
Guinevere agreed and snapped her fingers at Dolly, who immediately came to her side. They followed Oliver out of the room. The last thing Guinevere saw was Tegen, whispering angrily to her mother. Kensa wasn’t listening though as she was watching Haydock and his daughter Leah with a brooding look.
‘Nobody seems to like each other,’ Guinevere observed as they took a corridor that led into a dim recess. ‘Is all this tension