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She had spotted the nest earlier as they’d come up the hill from the ruins. It sat in a hollow where the old masonry had crumbled at the end of the standing wall that protruded from the hillside. She doubted the boys could reach the nest, but they could easily eat all the tarts. She turned to the Montford’s. “I know where the nest is.”

“Can you show us?” Mr. Montford asked.

Cassie led the way, and Mr. Montford, Mr. Duncan, and Sir Adrian followed. As they approached the spot where the narrow wall jutted out from the hill, a series of frantic guttural cries rent the air. Cassie halted, her heart in her throat, at the sight of the boys. Henry sat midway along the top of the crumbling wall, his legs dangling on either side, an airy gap and a steep drop in front of him. Below Henry, Charlie clung to the jutting stones of the wall’s face, his feet on a narrow ledge. A huge raven made a diving pass at Henry, and he ducked, flattening himself against the top of the wall.

Cassie pointed to a large, basket-like mound of twigs in a hollow above the last arch at least thirty feet from the ground. “There must be fledglings in the nest.”

Mr. Montford halted a few paces ahead of Cassie, where the curve of the hill turned sharply down to meet the wall. “Henry,” he shouted, “come back at once!”

“I can’t,” cried the boy. The raven dove again, skimming over the top of the clinging child.

“Papa,” Charlie wailed from his niche. “I’m stuck, too.”

Sir Adrian turned to Cassie with a mute appeal and offered his hand. Whatever he had in mind, she took his hand. They scrambled down the hill where the slope was gentler, using tufts of grass like stepping stones, Mr. Duncan following behind them. At the bottom, Sir Adrian studied the wall as he stripped off his coat and boots, and rolled up his shirt sleeves. “Talk to Charlie. Keep him calm. I must get to Henry first.”

“Cole,” Mr. Duncan protested, “You can’t mean to climb that thing. Sheer madness!” “Unless you have a ladder handy, Duncan, I see nothing for it but to climb.”

Cassie positioned herself under the younger boy’s perch. High as he was, maybe two body lengths above her, Charlie must have had an easy climb until he reached the niche, a rough patch of irregular cobble-like stones stuck in crumbling cement. With each hand he clutched one of the protruding stones, his feet on a narrow ledge.

“Charlie,” she called. “I’m standing below you. Hang on!”

“I can’t. I can’t. The bird will get me.” The rising breeze ruffled the boy’s shirt.

“Charlie, were you trying to help Henry?” Cassie tried to distract him.

“I was. Then the birds got angry.”

“They have babies in their nest. They want to keep you away.”

“The bird will peck me,” he cried.

“He won’t if you put your face to the stones.”

Cassie looked over her shoulder for Sir Adrian. He climbed with nimble assurance, finding hand and toeholds in the brick work at the lower end of the wall. The latent strength she had sensed in him from their first meeting was now plain in the easy play of his arms and back as he climbed. Where the lintel of an ancient door made a ledge, he pulled himself up into the open arch below the nest. His nearness drew the bird, and the raven swooped at him, screeching and clawing the air above his head. He reached around a narrow pillar, and took hold of a jutting brick. It broke away, and a portion of the wall showered down. Charlie wailed again.

“I can’t hold on anymore,” he cried.

“Yes, you can, Charlie.” Cassie stepped up to the wall, and put her good foot on a row of stones at the base. Above and to her right, Sir Adrian changed direction.

Taking hold of a narrow pillar, Cassie pulled herself up. She grasped the pillar and pressed her face to the warm stones, finding her balance. There was no way she could reach the boy.

“Charlie,” she called. “Look up. Watch Sir Adrian.”

“Lady Cassandra, come down,” Mr. Duncan ordered.

“I’m staying with Charlie.”

“Charlie,” Sir Adrian shouted. “Get ready. I’m going to take your arm and hand you down to Mr. Duncan.”

Stones rolled and bounced down the side of the old wall. Then Sir Adrian cried, “Got you.” Charlie yelped, and Cassie saw him hanging in the air beside her.

In an instant, Duncan came forward to grab the boy. Cassie slid her hand down the pillar at her side and lowered her good foot toward the ground. Another shower of stones rained down, and her foot slipped. Her knee banged hard against the stones.

Then Mr. Duncan took her arm, pulled her from the wall. Her bad foot landed hard, as he spun her to face him. “Lady Cassandra, one hardly knows what to say to a woman of your years. There was no occasion for you to endanger yourself. You have been foolish beyond permission.”

Cassie gently disengaged herself from his hold. “Have I? Your concern is no doubt kindly meant, Mr. Duncan, but a woman of my years decides for herself what the occasion requires.”

Charlie scrambled up the hill to his father, and Cassie turned back to Sir Adrian. He’d reached the broken level of the wall directly below Henry, so that the flattened boy and the man were face-to-face. The angry raven still dove at them, but Sir Adrian spoke quietly to the boy, keeping Henry’s focus on him. The wind snatched away their words, but at last Henry sat up, his hands on the top of the wall. Then, at a nod from Sir Adrian, the boy began to inch his bottom along the wall toward the hill. When there was room, Sir Adrian hoisted himself up. And together they worked their way toward the hillside. The raven wheeled up into the air and descended above the nest, still protesting with raucous cries. Mr. Montford sent Charlie running for the others.