Ruth came to him directly. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand. He was draining a glass, and as he set it down he shuddered. Forgive my daring. At the back of her mind, Melusine noted an odd look in the boy’s face, but there was no time to explore it. “I’ve been looking out for you,” he said. ‘Or do I arrest you and have these soldiers march you off to gaol?’ A sweep of his arm indicated the array of military strength on the benches, every eye of which was trained on the little scene being enacted before them. “And all the rest of it perhaps is a song. He is not in a state of mind to bear it. You will never be able to draw.
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