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Barbara was sure, although she could not make out the words—ended
that brief hope and the faint flicker of expectation that it might be her uncle
coming home. The guard would not have questioned him.
    “Perhaps you should go in,” Joanna said. “No one need know
you are here.”
    “I will not.” Barbara’s response was immediate. “We are
witness for each other if any abuse is offered.”
    Joanna did not reply, and Barbara guessed she had not
listened. She was not afraid for herself or for Barbara. Neither moved or spoke
again until Hugh Bigod’s old master-at-arms came through the open gate in the
inner garden wall and hurried toward them. Barbara could feel Joanna’s arm
stiffen in her hand as she braced herself, and her own heart sank again, for
she thought the old man looked frightened.
    As soon as he was close enough not to need to shout, he
said, “My lady, the Earl of Norfolk begs admittance.”
    “Father?” Barbara exclaimed, feeling an instant of joy and
relief. But then she had to tighten her grip on Joanna, who wavered on her
feet, and both joy and relief fled.
    “Yes,” Joanna whispered, clutching at Barbara and as the man
came forward, his head cocked to show he had not heard her, she nodded.
    “Yes,” Barbara repeated as she steadied Joanna. “Bid him
enter and come to us here as quickly as he can.”
    She helped her aunt to sit down and stood beside her, one
arm around her shoulders. She could think of nothing to say, no comfort to
offer. Tears stood in her eyes and then began slowly to trickle down her
cheeks. If her father had come, the news must be very bad, worse than confiscated
estates. Uncle Hugh must be in prison or hurt or…or dead.
    “Hugh is safe, whole and safe.”
    Norfolk’s rough bellow, the words shouted from the entrance
gate in his eagerness to give good news, was like heavenly music. Barbara ran
forward to embrace her father. Joanna, who had bounded to her feet, was barely
a step behind.
    “It is not all good news,” the earl warned, sliding his left
arm around Barbara’s waist and taking Joanna’s hand in his right.
    “He is not wounded?” Joanna asked, and when Norfolk shook his
head, she smiled with clear-eyed joy. “Then I do not care for any other bad
news. If he is taken prisoner, I will find ransom for him. I have my jewels and
my own lands to draw upon—”
    “You will need no ransom. Hugh is fled to France.”
    “To France—” Joanna looked around as if surprised at finding
herself still in the garden instead of packing. “Then I will go—”
    “You will not!” Norfolk exclaimed, dropping Joanna’s hand.
“Fool of a woman! I thought better of you, Joanna. There are more important
considerations than your desire for your husband’s company.”
    Color flooded into Joanna’s face. “What would you, of all
men, know of that consideration?” she asked in a voice Barbara had never heard
her use before.
    “I know there has been a major battle at Lewes,” Norfolk
roared, “and that any hope the king will ever again rule by his own sweet will,
throwing plums to his favorites, is over for good.”
    Pure shock at the cruelty of Joanna’s remark, for her
father’s long unhappiness in his marriage and his attempt to free himself from
it was public knowledge, had held Barbara silent. It was totally
uncharacteristic behavior. Joanna was never cruel. Nor was she ever
sharp-tongued, but now Barbara saw her draw breath, clearly to answer as
angrily as her father had spoken. Before even more unforgivable words were
said, Barbara pushed Joanna back and stepped between her and Norfolk.
    “Joanna!” she cried. “Look at my father’s clothes and his
eyes. He has been riding night and day—have you not, Papa? He has come to
protect you and to protect Uncle Hugh as well as he can. You must listen to the
whole story before you decide anything. Let us all go in so Father can sit down
and have some wine.”
    “Joanna,” Norfolk said, moderating his tone,