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settled herself, save to order Dickon curtly to adjust her stirrups.
    When the party was ready and farewells had been said, Josse glanced at Dickon, nodded briefly and led the way out of the courtyard and off on the road to New Winnowlands.
    The morning was fine and sunny. They reached Josse’s manor in good time and he managed to persuade Galiena to step into the house and take some refreshments; Will’s Ella, silent and shy as ever, worked her usual magic and had cups of cool wine anda platter of warm, spiced cakes ready in next to no time. Aebba was offered the same courtesy but, with a brief shake of her head, she declined. Will was sent out to Dickon, left holding the horses, with a flagon of ale and a hunk of bread and cheese.
    Then Josse saw the party on their way.
    Standing beside Galiena as she sat on her horse, he sensed her nervousness. ‘Do not fear, my lady,’ he said quietly, for her alone to hear. ‘They are good people at Hawkenlye and will do their best to help you.’
    ‘But if I should fail!’ she said, her voice anguished.
    ‘Do not dwell on that,’ he advised. ‘Keep hope strong, for often that is the way to bring about what it is you desire.’
    Fleetingly the tension left her white face and she smiled at him. ‘What a sound fellow you are, Josse d’Acquin,’ she murmured. Then, lightly touching her heels to her horse’s sides, she rode straight-backed out of the yard.
    Leaving Josse with the distinct but surely mistaken impression that she had been flirting with him.

3
     
    Helewise, Abbess of Hawkenlye, was absorbed in one of the great leather-bound ledgers in which the Abbey’s financial records were carefully detailed. In company with every other monastic foundation in the land, Hawkenlye was going to have to give up its wealth to go towards King Richard’s ransom; Helewise was in the middle of preparing an inventory of the Abbey’s assets.
    It was neither a charitable nor a loyal thought, but she could not help but be extremely grateful that Hawkenlye enjoyed the patronage of Queen Eleanor. The Queen might be more eager than anyone else to see the ransom collected and paid over and her favourite son released, but, as Helewise well knew, Hawkenlye was special to the Queen. Had she not taken a personal interest in its construction and dedication, searching out the best craftsmen that France and England could produce to ensure that the Abbey would be memorable in its beauty? Had she not bestowed as her own personal gift – or so they said – the Abbey’s greatest treasure, the walrus ivory carving of the dead Christ in the arms of Joseph of Arimathea?
    It was possible, Helewise acknowledged, that the Queen would demand the return of her gift so that it might be sold for the ransom. But somehow it did not seem likely.
    Wishful thinking, Helewise told herself sternly, returning to her ledger. That’s what that is. And if we are commanded to give up our treasures, then we shall do so willingly for the King’s sake.
    Queen Eleanor had visited Hawkenlye in April. The first desperate anxiety over her captive son had abated; she had recently received a letter from him in which he assured her that he was well and content. He also revealed that he had established a friendly and affectionate relationship with the Emperor, and he expressed his deep gratitude to his mother for her endeavours on his behalf. Eleanor, who had previously been beside herself with worry, had been bombarding the frail and elderly Pope Celestine with impassioned letters demanding that he do something to help the great Lionheart. Frustratingly, Celestine had yet to answer; he was, according to the Queen, shaking in his papal shoes at the prospect of performing any action that might offend the Emperor and so, in Eleanor’s own words, he had ‘taken the coward’s way and decided to do nothing’.
    The encouraging message from Richard, together with the great comfort of actually being able to do something herself