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more welcome rescuer could there be than you?’
    They talked for a long time. Good friends that they were, they had not met since the previous autumn, and there was much to catch up on. Having covered the minutiae of both the Abbess’s daily round and his own – in considerable detail, since each was well-versed in the doings of the other – the conversation eventually turned to the pressing matter of the moment.
    Josse was immensely gratified that he had been right in his assumption that Queen Eleanor would have made the time for a visit to Hawkenlye Abbey. Listening intently to the Abbess’s account of what had passed between the Queen and herself, he was pleased, for Queen Eleanor’s sake, that she had found a kind and sympathetic ear at Hawkenlye.
    When the Abbess told him about the Queen’s gift and what she had in mind to do with it, he agreed that the concept of a Hawkenlye Herbal was a good one. ‘And you have someone with the skill to do justice to such a book?’ he asked.
    ‘I believe so, Sir Josse. A young nun, one whom I do not think you have met, informs me that she is an artist. She is preparing an example of her work so that I may judge for myself. In fact’ – she rose to her feet as she spoke – ‘I think she may by now have finished. Will you accompany me while I go to see?’
    ‘Gladly I will.’
    He followed the Abbess as she led the way along the cloister and around a corner to a private spot that he did not think he had visited before. There was nobody there, but a tall desk and a stool indicated where the artist had sat. On top of the desk, a cloth had been carefully tucked round several objects to protect them. As Josse watched, the Abbess raised the cloth, revealing pots, paints, brushes, ink and a small piece of parchment.
    The Abbess picked up the parchment. Josse waited. After a moment, she said, ‘Sir Josse, I believe that my project’s success is assured.’ Then she passed the parchment to him.
    He saw straight away that she was right. The unknown nun had captured the very essence of her subject; the blackberries looked so lifelike that they all but made his mouth water. And the text was inscribed in a bold, flowing hand that was both attractive and easy to read, although Josse, whose reading skills were not well developed, found he had to struggle a little with some of the words.
    ‘It is exquisite, my lady.’ He handed back the scrap of parchment.
    ‘You think I would be right to go ahead and order the materials?’ She looked at him anxiously. ‘It is a lot of money . . .’
    ‘Aye, I do,’ he said firmly. ‘Queen Eleanor, you say, wishes a permanent tribute to the King?’
    ‘Yes. That was what she specified. To the King and his mother, in recognition of their grief and sorrow at this terrible time of the King’s imprisonment.’
    ‘Aye.’ He sighed. The King’s present condition was a fact that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his mind, sometimes at the back, sometimes – as now – brought to the forefront. Turning back, not without effort, to the matter in hand, he said, ‘Well, in your proposed herbal, it would seem, you have something both useful and decorative. What could be better?’
    The Abbess appeared to think for a while longer. Then, her face clearing, she said, ‘Thank you. Then I will arrange for the order to be sent without delay.’
    ‘Er – might I ask to be allowed to meet your artist?’ he ventured.
    ‘Sir Josse, of course! I will send for her, and you shall be present when I tell her of the role she is to play in our great undertaking. But the meeting will have to wait until after Nones – will you come to pray with the community?’
    Telling her that he would like nothing better, he walked beside her across the cloister to the Abbey church.
    Back in the Abbess’s room, Josse leaned against the wall as she settled herself in her chair. She had despatched a novice nun to go and find Sister Phillipa and tell her she was