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when he was consulting a heavily illuminated manuscript in the Bodleian Library in Oxford.’
    His eyes stayed on Kelby making her uncomfortable. ‘Tim said the gloves make sure hands don’t mark the parchment, but it could be beneficial for parchment to absorb the natural oils on fingers.’ Doctor Robson chuckled, ‘Either way, it’s best to make sure our hands are clean.’
    Kelby saw Marina’s outstretched hand. A sharp lemon odour filled the room as she wiped her hands.
    ‘Phew!’ Kelby finished wiping her hands. ‘I wouldn’t want to ruin this lovely old book.’
    ‘But of course, best practice is to handle it as little as possible.’
    ‘Okay.’ Kelby said.
    Each page illustrated details of a different herb in a flowing handwritten script. Beside the inked words, an elaborate decorated first letter, naming each herb had been drawn with intricate designs. Despite its age, every page in the book had high-quality drawings of the plant and its seeds.
    ‘It seems to be a practical book.’ Marina’s voice filled with pride. ‘Look,’ she pointed at the page Kelby was on, ‘There’s details about each herb’s medicinal properties and even directions for compounding the medicines extracted from them. They’re on every page. And these are symbols of the different planets, a sort of shorthand showing medicinal properties. Astrology was a big part of medicine in those days.’
    ‘What does this say?’ Kelby pointed at a large A.
    Marina leaned over and squinted at the words. ‘It says “anemone”. Then it goes on to explain its juice is applied externally to clean ulcerations, infections and cure leprosy or inhaled to clear the nostrils.’
    As Kelby listened to Marina, the tips of her fingers tingled. Kelby shook herself and pulled back. The girdle book magnetised her. Locked in, Kelby leaned forward again, one hand still resting on the leather knot.
    Marina’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, ‘When I was researching herbals, I came across a woman author who’d written several stories in Barcelona in 1492!’
    Doctor Robson reached into Marina’s folder and showed Kelby a printed list.
    ‘They’re now held in manuscript archives in Madrid,’ said Marina. ‘Some of these old documents are preserved in private repositories, such as Abadía de Torcal. My uncle runs an exclusive retreat there.’ She glanced at her brother.
    ‘Not now, Marina,’ he said.
    Marina sighed, and continued, ‘But this particular author’s work is in public administration.’
    Kelby nodded and made some notes.
    ‘I wanted to be a hundred per cent sure, so I went to the Instituto de Enseñanza.’
    ‘What did you find?’ Once again, the book winched Kelby closer. A shadow lingered between the pages, leaking an aura of a medieval struggle.
    Marina tossed her head and twanged in her thick accented English, ‘The stories appear to be written by the first female Spanish author.’
    ‘Wait,’ Doctor Robson cut in, ‘she may not be the first as such. Remember Egeria.’
    ‘We don’t know if Egeria was Spanish,’ Marina retorted.
    Kelby watched the sparks fly between them and held up her hand. ‘Can someone fill me in here?’
    Doctor Robson cleared his throat, ‘Um, sorry, Kelby. Nothing like a little tiff to add excitement.’ He gave her his sheepish grin and continued, ‘Egeria was a fourth-century female pilgrim who wrote an account of her pilgrimage to Jerusalem in Latin.’
    Kelby watched him stroke his sister’s arm.
    ‘When Marina was researching she came across Egeria. While we’re not sure who was the first female author. We’d like to believe our journal author is the first, because of her numerous short stories and her detailed journal.’
    Marina leaned forward, ‘ Si. There’s so much written speculation about her, yet no-one can say what happened to her. Her disappearance is a mystery.’
    Suddenly a thrumming vibrated through Kelby’s veins.
    ‘What was her