It would be good for the convent if that purpose was successful; but the Abbess did not wish it to be so unless it was the best thing for the girl. With her dark hair and her gentle rather doe-like eyes, her heart-shaped face and her delicate features she showed signs of real beauty. Her nature was gentle but alert; she would be steadfast but the fact was that the Abbess was unsure.

As yet, she thought, she is too young to decide.

'It is a fine day,' she said briskly. 'Let us walk awhile in the gardens.'

This was strange. The Abbess had never walked in the gardens with her before, but one thing Mary had learned in the convent was not to ask questions so she shut her books immediately and rose.

She followed the Abbess through the stone corridors. They passed silent-footed nuns, who, preserving their silence, did not speak. In the gardens, where vegetables and herbs were grown, three nuns were working: they did not look up. In the bakery it would be the same, as in the wash-house and the ale house. They were all working steadily away and in silence as they would be in the still rooms where the herbs were being made into medicines for the use of the poor.

'You see, my child,' said the Abbess, 'that here we are working for others. It is our mission in life to serve God through His unfortunate children.'

'Yes, my lady Abbess, I have long been aware of that.'

'And you think it a worthy vocation?'

'Oh yes, my lady. I do.'

'There are some who take their vows perhaps too early and later regret that they have done so. The world is an alluring place my child.'

'It is full of wickedness, my lady.'

'And what do you know of that wickedness? Tell me that.'

Mary was silent and the Abbess smiled.

'You know nothing of the world save that which you have heard. But you have seen something of what a nun's life is like. And you think it a good life?'

*0h I do, my lady/

They walked in silence for some moments then the Abbess said, 'How old are you?'

'I am ten years old/

'It is too young to make decisions which would affect the whole of your life/

'What decisions, my lady?'

*My lord the Earl has said that if you should wish to join us here he would not stand in your way/

'To ... join you here/

'To become one of us. What do you think, Mary?'

The girl was silent. To live the life of a nun! To work for the poor! To speak only when given permission to do so! She did not know what to say. When she entered the calm of the convent she had felt a happiness envelop her. That was because Eleanor had said something that she had felt to be unkind; and she was aware of the friction at Pleshy. Her brother-in-law was often angry about something. He and her sister were constantly discussing some grievance and assuring themselves that the day would come when they would be avenged. It made her uneasy; and for that reason she liked to get away. But to live here always ... never to know what was really happening in the world ...

The Abbess said: 'My dear child, do not look alarmed. It would be years before anything was done. The Duke of Lancaster is your guardian and he would have to give his consent of course. His plans might differ from those of your brother-in-law and sister. But a great deal depends on your own wishes for we would not want you to be here against your will. The decision is yours, remember that, but there is talk of its being a suitable life for you and I thought I would tell you this that you can be more watchful of us and our ways. I think it is never too soon to think of these matters.'

'Thank you, my lady. I will think of them.'

'That is well. I believe your groom is waiting at the stables to take you to Pleshy.'

The Abbess went into the convent and Mary made her way to the stables where her horse was ready for her.

In the solarium at Pleshy, Mary was embroidering an altar cloth for the chapel when her sister joined her. Eleanor was

pregnant; she was hoping for a son; she already had one little girl about a year old and she thought herself rather ill used by life because her first-born had not been a son.

She sat beside Mary and said: 'You look so happy. But you always do when you return from the convent. I believe you love that place.'

1 do. It is very pleasant there and the nuns are so gentle. They are very good, you know, Eleanor.'

*I do know it. There are no more worthy people in the world. Some of us have duties in other directions.' She sighed as though she deplored having to be a great lady, go to Court, wear magnificent clothes, and would have counted it a great privilege if she had been allowed to put on the grey robe of the Poor Clares and devote herself to the needy.

Now that was too much for Mary to accept. Eleanor thoroughly enjoyed her worldly life, but she had been planning something for some time and Mary was beginning to understand what it was. Eleanor wanted her to go into a convent; in fact she was trying to persuade her to. Her next words confirmed this.

*Oh Mary, I am beginning to think you are more fortunate than 1.1 do believe God is giving you a chance to lead a very worthy life.'

*You mean go into a convent? Become a nun?'

*I see you are full of joy at the thought.'

*No, Eleanor. That is not entirely true. I do think the nuns are good and I should like to be as they are .. /

*Well then, sister, is that not what I said?'

'But there are other joys in the world. When I play with little Anne I think how fortunate you are to have her and then there is the new one who is coming. I do love the peace of the convent but I should love to be a mother too ... to have babies like Anne.'

'What nonsense!' said Eleanor sharply. 'Having a baby is by no means pleasant I can assure you.'

'I know it is an ordeal but the reward is great. Sometimes I think the most wonderful thing in the world must be to have a child.'

'You are speaking of matters of which you know nothing,* said Eleanor sharply. *I think you should begin to consider going into the convent. I could speak to the Abbess.'

'Eleanor, have you already spoken to the Abbess?'

*We have talked of your future, of course.*

'And our mother?*

'She has not given an opinion but I am sure that she would be happy for you to take up the holy life/

*I think she would respect my wishes in that/ said Mary with spirit.

Eleanor opened her eyes very wide. 'But is that not what we all wish to do?' she demanded.

'If that is so/ replied Mary gravely, 'it is for me to decide and I have some time yet to think about my future.'

'Of a certainty you have/ retorted Eleanor. 'But I think you would be very happy to feel you had settled it.'

Mary was silent. Eleanor would be very happy, she was sure, if it was settled that her young sister should become a nun.

Thomas Woodstock, Earl of Buckingham, rode out to Pleshy to say good-bye to his wife before he left for France. He was not displeased to be going for he was of an adventurous nature and had the Plantagenet desire to do battle. He was fresh from the triumph he had enjoyed when just before Christmas he had captured eight Spanish ships off Brest. Egotistical, impulsive, inclined to recklessness, Thomas yearned to be in the centre of events.

Eleanor understood well. She shared his ambitions. She greeted hitn warmly and immediately commanded that the finest dinner should be served and the minstrels give of their best. She had always insisted that they should have the newest songs from Court and as they were not far from London and Westminster she usually succeeded in her endeavours.

Eleanor had married into royalty and she could not forget it nor allow anyone else to.

It was a good marriage from the point of view of both husband and wife. Thomas enjoyed her ambition and approval in all his endeavours and it gratified him that she should be so conscious of the royalty he had bestowed on her.