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die, that was for certain, so the task of keeping the family alive would fall to her, at least until either of her brothers came home. Fortunately there was still some of the hoard of pennies left – even before his accident, Papa had known that something might befall him, so he’d shown her where he’d hidden the money to keep it safe. Before the siege the cloth business had been good, and by living carefully he had managed to save a good deal against the possibility of an uncertain future. She gave thanks every day for his foresight, but although she still had some money, it was no use if there was nothing to buy, and food supplies were short in Lincoln. What was she to do? She sighed and turned back to her father. While he was alive, she must care for him to ease his passage into the Lord’s grace.
    He stirred and mumbled something incomprehensible. Occasionally this had happened – he’d seemed almost on the verge of regaining consciousness, but then he’d either murmured or even raved for a few moments without waking, before subsiding back into the dark world he now inhabited. She dipped the rag and tried to cool him again.
    As she turned towards him, she started as she realised that his eyes were wide open and staring at her.
    ‘Papa?’ She reached out to him gently, but he didn’t respond.
    He continued to stare silently, but after a few moments a hoarse whisper came from his lips. ‘Edith?’
    Her mother’s name. Alys’s eyes filled with hot tears. ‘No, Papa, it’s me, Alys.’
    She had little hope that he would understand her, but to her surprise he seemed to focus on her coherently. ‘Alys.’ He twitched his hand and she took it, holding the gaunt pale fingers in her own. He continued to whisper, his wits somehow returning. ‘You brought me home?’ She nodded. ‘Proud of you. Proved yourself.’ His hand was so cold. She held it to her face, and he moved his fingers to touch her cheek. His voice was hoarse. ‘You must do something for me.’
    She thought she knew what was coming. ‘I’ve looked after the little ones, Papa, I’ll make sure no harm comes to them.’
    He tried to move his head and whimpered. It was a moment before he could speak again. ‘Yes … but … something else you have to do. Someone you must talk to.’
    He was raving again, surely.
    ‘Come closer, child, and I will tell you. You must do this, for all of us …’ She bent her head closer and listened to the rasping whisper. So that was what he’d been doing! She sat back in shock.
    His strength was failing, the words slow, laboured. He gripped her hand. ‘You must … promise me.’
    She couldn’t stop the tears. ‘I promise.’
    ‘Good …’ the whisper tailed away in a rattle, and he breathed no more.
    She sat looking down at him for a long moment before releasing his hand, placing it on his chest and gently closing his eyes. Of course she’d promised, for how could a dying man be denied? But how was she to carry out the task? She had little idea of how to begin, never mind how she would do it while looking after the children. The children! They were orphans now and they must surely be her first priority. She had to keep them safe – she must see to her home and family first, ahead of any other considerations. But her father’s urgency haunted her. What if she were to fail to heed him in order to keep the children, and they should die anyway because of the siege? And what happened to those who broke a solemn vow to the dying?
    Dizzy and faint, she tried to seek comfort in prayer. Her father had at least been shriven that morning, so he could pass into the Lord’s grace. She bent her head to pray for his soul. Requiem æternam dona ei Domine  …
    She was thus engaged, and it was becoming full dark, when she heard the sound of footsteps on the stair. She looked towards the door to see Mistress Guildersleeve enter the room, her kindly face concerned. ‘Alys. How is he? The children said …’