Earl Edmund strode into the great hall, a rolled parchment in his hand, and my curtsy brought my face so near it I could smell the ink. He touched my elbow when I rose.

“Margaret.” He inclined his head. “Please accept my condolences on your terrible loss. First the loss of your mother, and now your aunt.” He shook his head slowly. “A terrible loss. How we shall miss them.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

“Never would I have known you for the child you were when last I saw you.” He smiled as he took my measure. “You’ve become as lovely as ever your aunt Claris was. And it is my hope that you’ll one day be the healer your mother was. He shook his head sadly. “How we miss her here.”

I did not know what to say, so I bowed my head in thanks.

“My father admired and took the counsel of your great-grandmother Gytha, to whom he accorded dominion over Bury Down manor. And I was guided by her granddaughter, your kind aunt, Claris. And by your mother, of course,” he hurriedly added. “May you,” he said as he handed me the parchment, “to whom I now accord this dominion, live long in service to the people of your village. Even as you continue to serve the crown.” As I reached for the deed, he looked into my eyes. “I and my house are at your service, Margaret of Bury Down.”

“Your Grace.” Dropping into another curtsy I accepted the deed, my head bowed longer than necessary as I fought back the waves of relief and gratitude that threatened to show themselves as tears.

When I rose, the earl looked briefly at Hugh and then back at me. “There’s one more thing. It does you little good to raise all those sheep if you can’t sell the cloth you weave from their fleece.”

He’s going to take my flock!

“Oh, but Mister Tucker sells our cloth.”

“Ah, Tucker. A good man. He trained Martyn, I believe. And Martyn trained you. I’m told you’ve surpassed them both, Margaret. You’ve become a master of the craft.”

“Martyn took samples of your work to the guild,” Hugh said. “He told them of your years of instruction. But it was your weaving that earned you membership in the guild.”

The earl smiled. “Even with a boon and a parcel of land, a landowner needs an income. As a master weaver, you’ve a profession for life. Why, you could train your own apprentices.”

“And sell my own wares?” No more listening to Mister Tucker’s barbs? No more accepting mere pennies while he pocketed the lion’s share of the money my work brought in?

“And sell your own wares. We’ve fairs in Bodmin now. Take your fine cloth there.” He did not add, “Where you’ll not have to compete with Tucker.”

I curtsied low again and bowed my head in gratitude though I knew there’d be no need to journey to Bodmin. Women who came to us from Bodmin for cures often asked if they might purchase the cloth I wove from Brighida’s “goddess thread.” Until today, I had to send them to Tucker’s market stall to buy it.

When they learn that I am a guild member entitled to sell my wares, I thought, they will come to Bury Down for more than cures.

When I rose, the earl was gone and Hugh was smiling at me. “Looks like you’re now the master weaver,” he said.

I looked at the deed that granted me dominion over Bury Down.

“Hugh,” I asked. “What is dominion?”

“Rule,” he said, taking my elbow. “It means you’ve the right to do with it what you will. It is under your rule.”

He led me through the great hall and out to the stables, where he hitched his horse to the cart and helped me up onto the seat.

“Where will you go now, Hugh?”

“To the village, to await Martyn and some others I’m expecting from the coast. If they don’t arrive in a day or two, I’ll head back there. Gough hides himself in those cliff caves better than a rat on a ship, but it may be they’ve caught his scent.”

“He’s likely with Tinker Penneck. And he won’t hide Tinker for long,” I said. “For Tinker won’t be hidden away.”

Hugh smiled, his expression one of surprise. “That’s right, Megge. And that’s how I intend to find him. Through Tinker.”