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Elnora had laid aside, for her weak eyes no longer allowed her to read. As heavy as a small coffer of coins, it was entitled The Herball or General History of Plants. It was a treasure more valuable than gold to me. When I tired of my needlework, which was often, I pored over this book with ever growing fascination. I studied its precise drawings and stored in my memory the virtues and uses of all plants. I learned that peony taken with wine can relieve nightmares or melancholy dreams. When a mother delivers her babe, parsley seeds aid in bringing away the afterbirth cleanly. Rhubarb purges madness and frenzy. Fennel sharpens the sight and is an antidote to some poisons. All this and more I committed to memory. Soon Elnora began to rely on me to create new mixtures and tonics. I copied Mechtild's cumin poultice and Elnora found relief from the pain in her side. She chided me less for my laziness and melancholy, and she allowed me more time to study and write.
    Since Elnora allowed me to study this book that so entranced me, I tried to please her by attending chapel services with her. She prodded me to attention when the preacher railed against pride and vanity. I also read the conduct books she prescribed to teach me morals, though I found them most tiresome. They all said that I must be silent, chaste, and obedient, or else the world would be turned topsy-turvy from my wickedness. I scoffed at this, suspecting the writer had no knowledge of women and even less liking for them. Another manual advised me to be silent, but not always so, that I might cultivate the art of witty but modest conversation that was the mark of a court lady. I preferred this book.
    However I had no occasion for witty discourse, except with myself. Sometimes as I worked, I imagined both parts of a conversation between a beautiful woman and her noble suitor. Or I contended in my mind against the ignorant writers who condemned women as frail and lacking in virtue. These exercises distracted my mind from the menial tasks that fell to me as the lowest of Gertrude's ladies. I had to empty the queen's close stool, which before had been Cristiana's task. I also had to fetch large pitchers of water for Gertrude's bath and empty the tub afterward, until my feet were swollen from running to the well and the latrines, and my arms ached.
    It was dismaying to be chosen like a new bauble and then forgotten, a mere passing fancy. Gertrude rarely spoke to me, but I gazed on her, my eyes drinking in her beauty. Her hair shone like oiled oakwood, and her gray eyes seemed to hide her soul. She was still shapely and her face was unlined. Her ladies evermore praised her beauty, and she loved to be told that she was too young to be the mother of a grown prince. Like her, I dressed my hair in a long braid, which I sometimes tucked under a coif that I embroidered, rather crudely, with pansies. I longed to know if she approved of my dress and manner. It hurt me to think that she took no notice of my attempts to please her.
    Humility was a hard virtue for me to learn, for I did not like to be always meek, with downcast eyes. Though looking down one day, I made a startling discovery: New curves had appeared in my body. Small breasts rounded out my silk bodice. They began to ache and throb. One day my flowers commenced with a stream of bright blood and a sharp pain in my gut. I ran to Elnora.
    "I have hurt myself. I know not how," I cried in a panic.
    She calmed me and wiped my tears. She brought me clean rags and explained how generation occurs. It amazed me that now my body was able to create a child, and it frightened me to think of the pain that lay in my future. It was like a sudden turn of fortune, to be thrust one day into womanhood.
    Now that I was a young woman, I determined to take more pride in my gowns and ornaments, even though they had been worn by other ladies first. I thought that my lace cuffs set off my white hands. The stiff ruff that was then in fashion framed