The following morning they set out on the road to Amiens. The morning was cold, but not so cold as to be miserable. The sun peeked between the clouds. In the back of the cart Antone played his transverse flute. For the first time Lydia wondered why he never sat on the seat of the cart, but was always in back. His music swirled around them.

James asked, "Antone is that a tune of your making?"

The music stopped. "Aye Uncle. It is."

"It is quite beautiful."

"Thank you. I have not finished it, yet. I am having a bit of trouble with it." The playing resumed. The tune was the most lovely tune Lydia had ever heard. Antone had written this? How could such a shallow creature create something with such depth and warmth? A flat note shattered the beauty of the song. Antone tried it again. The squeak the flute made was earsplitting! He said, "Perhaps, I need a different flute." There was a fumbling of instruments and then the music began again. It went on quite well until that one note.

Brother Matthew laughed. "Perhaps it is the player and not the flute."

Antone did not reply. The music began again and proceeded hesitantly until the fateful note. Brother Matthew exclaimed, "SEE, IT is the PLAYER!"

"Oh, hush," said James, "do not give up Antone. You will make it right."

And Antone did go on, and on and on. The wayward note refused to be silenced. Brother Matthew sat with his hands clamped over his ears. Lydia would have done the same but since her comment yesterday morning about Antone being coarse, he had not spoken to her or even looked at her. Though she would not admit it, being ignored by him hurt. Deep down she did not want to risk further alienation.

At dusk, Moses Aaron's nostrils flared wide. He shook his mane and headed down a stony fork in the road. Instantly irritated Brother Matthew protested, "No James, not there. Make that devil get back on the main road. I am NOT going THERE!"

The flute playing ceased. Antone asked, "Abusing Moses Aaron already priest! Your promises are indeed short. Uncle, where is Moses Aaron taking us?"

"Madame Coeur's."

"Ah," said Antone, "I hear she is fair of face and has library. Why would you not want to go there Brother Matthew?"

"She is a woman of queer notions and strange behaviors. No James, I beg of you. Do not subject me to her peculiarities."

"Dame Paston instructed me to call on her. So we will. When we reach the gate you will hand over our traveling papers to her guards."

Ahead was a thick stone wall and an iron gate barred the road. Two guards stood with spears. At the gate Brother Matthew passed their papers to the guard on his side. The man looked at the papers, nodded and handed them back. The other one opened the gate. Moses Aaron shot through. James did not even try to slow the creature.

Amid the leafless trees a slate roof appeared. Moses Aaron pulled them into a large yard. In the dim light, Lydia gaped at the massive house. It was made all of pink stone and had blown glass windows. A huge ornate door rested at the top of a long stair. A sentry stood guard at the door. At the base of the stairs Moses Aaron came to an abrupt stop. He barely gave them time to get down before he took off again. James did not seem perturbed or surprised.

Antone spun around and said, "Uncle, this is quite a place. Far larger than Dame Paston's castle."

James gave his nephew a silencing glance.

They ascended the stone steps. The sentry took a look at their papers and rapped on the door. A dark skinned man opened the door. Lydia did not know if he was a Jew, an Infidel or an Ethiopian. Never had she seen such lustrous skin. He smiled at James. In a peculiar accent he said, “Follow me.” He led them into a spacious entry. The sound of laughter echoed in the hall to their right. The man took them to the door where the laughter echoed and opened it. Lydia was completely dazzled by what she saw. The room was a festival of color. Turquoise woolen drapes with diagonal patterns in gold and silver ran from floor to ceiling. Red pottery and fine yellow linens decorated the table. At its head sat a tall elegant woman dressed in shimmering orange silk. The dress fit her like a second skin. Small cream colored discs ran the length of the front. The discs held the dress closed. It did not have a single lace or bow on it.

At the table sat five men and one woman. They all turned to looked at the pilgrims.

The woman rose and came to them. Concern filled her eyes. “My dear friend Dame Paston, is she well James?”

“Oui, Madame Coeur, she is,” James assured her.

Instantly Lydia was aware that Antone was very taken with this woman. His eyes traced her face and figure. It was a fine face and a fine figure. Jealousy seeped through her.

Madame Coeur smiled at Antone. “I see a family resemblance here James.”

“Oui, this is my nephew, Antone.”

Antone bowed.

"Little Antone, my how you have grown." To Brother Matthew she said, "Matthew so you are a Brother now?"

"Oui Madame."

"Pity." The woman’s eyes fixed on Lydia. She put a long finger under her chin and looked into her eyes. “So, who is this young man?”

Brother Matthew said, “He is Lord Paston’s proxy.”

Madame Coeur cut her eyes at Brother Matthew. With her head inclined toward her dinner guests she whispered, “You, Brother, should not speak so freely of intimate matters.” Turning her eyes back to Lydia she asked, “What is your name?”

Brother Matthew said, “Luke.”

“Does the boy not possess his own tongue? Speak to me child.”

Frightened, Lydia said, “Pardon Madame.”

“Luke, mmm.” Madame Coeur let go of Lydia’s chin. “The lot of you will have a bath before you sit at my table.”

Brother Matthew protested, “Please, not that.”

In acid tones she said, “You will not foul my table or my beds with your unwashed bodies. It is no wonder the Jews call us filthy Christians. Look at the four of you!”

Brother Matthew pleaded, “Madame, have you no fears of ill health? No kindness? Baths are a danger. A chill, I shall die of a chill. James the cold drafts will kill us all.”

Madame Coeur's eyes flashed. “You insult me. My bathing room is well secured. No draft can penetrate it.”

“But Madame, I am not due for a bath till April and it is only February.”

Madame Coeur frowned at him. “There is a brothel down the way. You will not have to bathe there.”

Brother Matthew sputtered, “I-I can not stay in a brothel. Did I not warn you James?”

Panicked Lydia looked at James. His brow was furrowed. This complication was one he had not anticipated. He fumbled open his cloak. His hand shot out. In it was a letter. He said, "Pardon Madame, before I forget, Dame Paston has sent you this letter."

"Thank you James." She took the letter. Her eyes lit again upon Lydia. After a moment of consideration she said, "Luke as Dame Paston's emissary you shall be treated as my own special guest. Follow Rashi." The man bowed to Lydia. Madame Coeur continued, "He will take you to your room. James, the rest of you go to the servant's bath. You know the way." Madame Coeur returned to her guests. Rashi started down the hall toward a flight of stairs.

Frozen where she was, Lydia did not know what to do. "Go on Luke," said James. "Rashi will take care of you." His eyes met hers. They told her it would be all right. Though fearful, she followed the tall dark man.

The stone stair spiraled upward. At the top was another long hallway. There were many doors. They walked the length of the hall and stopped at the very last door. When Rashi opened the door a sweet fragrance met her. Candles had already been lit in the room. Beautiful wax candles. The clarity of their light tossed dancing shadows into the vividly draped room. A rainbow of silks canopied a double bed. There was a hearth with a large kettle of boiling water. By the fire was a bathing tub filled with steaming water. Rashi lifted the kettle and poured more water into the tub. He motioned toward a bench beside the tub. On it were towels, soap and a pile of clean clothes her size. It was as if Madame Coeur had known she was coming. Rashi said, "Scrub well, monsieur. Hair and all. Madame likes her guests to glisten." With a bow, he left the room.

Never in all her years had Lydia bathed by submersion in a bathing tub! At home a bath was a half job. In her room, with her night gown serving as a tent she bathed with a basin and cloth, top half first, bottom half second, always partially covered. If her hair needed washing, she did that separate. She went to the tub and put one finger in the water. It felt divine. Only very rich people had bathing tubs. Never had she expected to use one.

She took off her cloak, her pilgrim's robe, her travel pack with her candles and writing utensils and then the boy clothes. They were indeed filthy. All that remained was her under garments. As they too slipped to the floor, for the first time in her memory, Lydia was completely naked. Was this how Eve felt in the garden before her bad judgment upended the world? With a mixture of delight and fear Lydia sank into the tub. The water came up to her chin. Its warmth soothed her weary body and soul. The cake of soap was not lye, but some exotic concoction. It removed layers of dirt from her face and it felt so soft. She dunked her head under the water and came up with a gasp of laughter. If all baths were like this she would bathe every day. Of course they were not. She scrubbed her short hair with the soap. A few fleas had taken up residence on her person and they did not like the soap. When she dunked her head again, tiny brown bodies floated in the water. The soap killed fleas. Odd.

From beyond the door, Madame Coeur called, “Hurry child, a boy does not take so long over his bath.”

A boy. Lydia sighed. She had to go back to being a boy. Tonight, she did not want to be a boy, she wanted to be herself. Reluctantly, she climbed out of the tub. Just as she was reaching for the towel, there was a click, and the door swung open.

"As I thought," said Madame Coeur.

Frightened, Lydia covered her naked body with the towel.