I bent lower, hoping to catch some of them, but they were too jumbled to make any sense. The weather was worsening and he must be got under cover as soon as possible. I looked up at Ned Stoner, who was peering anxiously over my shoulder. ‘Run and get two of the Burnetts’ men to bring a litter. Meantime, I’ll get him into the church where he will at least be out of this bitter cold.’ Ned said, ‘Right!’ and sped off down Small Street, while I pushed open the door of Saint Werburgh’s and lifted Master Burnett inside. I hadn’t long to wait. Indeed, I had only just laid my burden down again, when the door burst open and Alison appeared. The hood of her cloak had fallen back unheeded, and her hair was wet with snow. She was still wearing her velvet house shoes, not having paused either to change them or to strap on her wooden pattens. They and the hems of her gown and cloak were sodden. ‘William!’ she cried, crouching down beside her husband. She raised her eyes to mine. ‘What’s happened?’ I had no time to answer then, as the arrival of the Burnetts’ menservants, carrying a hastily improvised litter of a blanket knotted between two poles, precluded any further conversation until we had William safely within doors.
