The scene beyond confirmed her thoughts.īarely had the trees budded, surrounding their dark and arching branches with only an ephemeral, ghostly hint of green which could be sensed but not yet seen.
A dry smile of gratitude creased the old woman’s face, and her eyes strayed to the diamond-paned and leaded window nearby. As he added logs to the fire and fanned it to a hotter burn, Joan bustled round the old woman, placing another shawl across her legs. “My lady, are you cold?” Joan stood quickly, nodding to yet another woman who immediately disappeared into the shadows of the deep and cavernous room in which they sat, only to reappear moments later with a young boy in tow. The movement caught the eye of Joan, one of the women seated near her. The wimple she habitually wore accentuated her sharp, birdlike features – her small narrow eyes, her thin lips and aquiline nose. She shivered and drew her shawl closer round her small, bent shoulders. Were the winters becoming harsher, she wondered idly, or did her advancing years just make them seem so.
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