In spite of its closeness to the butchers’ stalls and slaughterhouses, with their accompanying stench of blood and rotting entrails, the silversmith’s seemed to be prosperous enough and attracting a high-class trade. It made me glad that I had followed Adela’s advice and worn one of the two new suits of clothes provided by Richard of Gloucester’s bounty for my journey to France the preceding autumn. Consequently, having tied the horse to a nearby post, I entered the shop confident that I looked my best in brown woollen hose, a pale green tunic adorned with silver-gilt buttons and a brown velvet hat sporting a fake jewel on its upturned brim. ‘I’ve never seen you so smart,’ my wife had said admiringly as I stood in the middle of our bedchamber earlier that morning while she had made final adjustments to the set of the tunic across my broad shoulders. But my sympathies had been with Elizabeth and Nicholas, convulsed by silent laughter, and with Adam who, upon coming into the room, had asked where his father was.
