CHAPTER 21“He’s here again,” said my mother, sinking on to the bench beside me. She had bearded me in the garden where I had been ensconced for hours, busily drawing up charts and frowning over the possible interpretations. Mostly impersonal ones. They involved Duke William and Earl Tostig and Harold of England. And Hereward, a little. Of course.
“Who is here?” I asked, without interest, pulling ungently at the rolls squashed under her careless rear. She shifted impatiently.
“What is all this stuff anyway? What are you about now? Why can you not marry and have children like normal girls? Your father has indulged you far too much in this matter, and so I have told him. Many times.”
“Have you finished?” I asked, replacing the papers on my other side.
She sniffed. “Of course I have. There
