I was, however, somewhat mollified when I saw it was the pretty servant girl who had given me a saucy look at dinner the night before, and that she was carrying a steaming tray. “Good morning, sir. Are you ready for your tea and crullers?”

I pulled on my robe and tried to push my hair into line with one hand.

She set the tray on my table. “The crullers are still warm; I just finished making them.”

I took a drink of scalding tea and a bite of cruller. They were just the way I liked them, with lots of cinnamon. “These are wonderful.”

“Thank you, sir. As well as bringing you your breakfast, the constable’s wife said I should explain to how to get to the chapel for service. You go back through the great hall-”

“Church service!” I cried. “That’s why they’re ringing the bells. I’m going to be late.”

“You have plenty of time. They always ring the bells half an hour early, to give slack-a-beds time to get up and dressed.”

“I forgot it was Sunday,” I said somewhat sheepishly.

“We have service in the chapel every morning,” she said primly. “Anyway, you go through the great hall, and at the far right-hand corner there’s a door into a stairway. Go up to the third landing, and there’s the chapel. You shouldn’t get lost; just about everyone else should be going there too.” But though she spoke formally and correctly, as a servant should address even someone who was fully dressed and combed, she gave me a wink as she left me to finish my breakfast and get dressed.

Twenty minutes later, dressed and reasonably tidy, though I was still licking crumbs from my lips, I walked through the great hall and joined a large group of people going upstairs. The stairs were dark and badly lit-no magic globes here-so it was with surprise and pleasure that I emerged into a very tall chapel, whose walls were made almost entirely of stained glass. The eastern light illuminated the Bible stories and the saints, and blue and green shadows were cast across us.