Henry’s back, and plunks some silver down in front of everybody, and now EVERYBODY wants a piece of him. Ok, not Alice, who’s freaking the hell out, or Read, who hates Henry on Alice’s behalf. But definitely everyone else.

Farlowe and Redwick try to claim that any silver found belongs to the Virginia Company, to which Henry responds: ‘Go ahead and find it for them, then.’ They then separately try to play him, in their own ways. Farlowe attempts to make him a confederate by pointing out he’ll need an able and connected politician to protect his interests if he goes back to England a rich man. Henry’s not convinced, because this guy’s trying really hard to be Littlefinger and is falling extremely short. Redwick, of course, just threatens to hang Henry, and Henry shrugs and reminds him that, if he’s hanged, the secret of where this silver is goes with him. Redwick and Farlowe step down and pout.

Yeardley just wants to know if his graverobbed map is legit and tells Redwick to be ready to go on a silver-finding expedition once he gets the go-ahead. But Henry’s not nearly as stupid as everyone thinks he is and remains mum. Besides, they need to first find out if this even is silver.

That’s where Christopher and Reade come in. Turns out they’re both Renaissance men, in their own way. Christopher, along with being a doctor, has quite a lot of knowledge of silver smelting and testing and gives Henry instructions for building the right kind of oven for the work. Henry goes to Reade, who’s ready to tell him exactly where he can shove his damn oven. But he backs down and agrees to build it, so long as Henry promises to stay away from Alice.

Alice, meanwhile, has shacked up with Discount Blake Lively, who’s apparently sane again, though busy rolling her eyes at her constantly inebriated husband. She takes a break long enough to spit in Henry’s face, though.

Alice decides she needs to do something to protect herself, so she reports Henry for rape to the men in charge. Depressingly, though not at all surprisingly, it turns into an interrogation of her, which outrages DBL who, let’s not forget, apparently time travelled back to the 17th century and is unfamiliar with how things are in this time. I’m not saying any of this is ok, by the way: it’s beyond disgraceful how sexual assault victims tend to be treated, even now, but someone living at this time would certainly know that women had a hell of a, ‘well, did you ask for it, you sinful Jezebel, you?’ hurdle to clear, especially when the man you’re accusing has something everyone else around you wants.

Meanwhile, out in the wilderness, Silas is wandering around with Chacrow and having some heart-to-hearts. During one of them, he promises he doesn’t want to kill his brother and feels terrible for how all of this has gone. At that point, Chacrow decides he can go ahead and tell Silas that Davie was lying, which means Henry is probably on his way home. Wow, thaaaaaaanks, Chacrow, for sitting on the knowledge that Silas’s wife’s rapist was heading straight for her! Hope you enjoyed the camping trip, buddy!

Since it’s clear she’s not going to get actual justice, Alice briefly decides to take things in her own hands and confronts Henry by the riverbank, which is fitting, though rather horrifying. Henry, who seems to feel genuine remorse for what he’s done, tells her to go ahead and stab him, if she really feels he deserves it. Of course, she can’t go through with it, but it seems like it’s a bit cathartic for her. Enough so that she’s able to go back to the cabin at the farm, where Silas finds her, having basically run the whole way home. She gives him a serious bollocking, then does the 17th century equivalent of making him sleep on the couch: telling him he’s outside for the night. Hope he has better luck out there than the cow.

Now on the outs with his wife, Silas tries to make nice with Henry, but Henry isn’t having it.

Joss isn’t given much to do this hour. All she does is go to Temperance Yeardley and promise not to tell anyone about the governor digging up graves looking for treasure maps, so long as Temperance hands over the letter from her cousin, unopened. Temperance agrees, readily.

And Mercy, of course, is acting like her usual dimwitted self. She’s convinced that Henry’s the devil, because he’s got facial scarring. Apparently she’s forgotten that this is a man she actually knows and has known for some time and is, therefore, not Lucifer. She’s sufficiently jumpy that she sets a storehouse on fire, after having locked herself inside. Does she have the presence of mind to unlock any of the doors or windows that she herself locked? Of course not. It takes Henry busting down part of a wall to bring her to safety. But then Henry gets trapped inside the collapsing building and Silas finally gets to set some bit of the world right by rescuing him. The townsfolk ignore Silas and hoist Hero Henry up on their shoulders, but at least Silas and Alice make up, so there’s that.

The silver Henry found is finally smelted down, and then tested. But the test reveals it’s fairly worthless. Massenger, who was earlier faced with a choice between losing all his employees to a silver rush or selling Henry his farm, cackles away. Yeardley pouts. Joss realises she no longer has any leverage over Lady Yeardley and is therefore screwed.

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