'I have loved once and lost, Roger,' Benjamin continued as if reading my mind. 'I shall not love and lose again. Give me your word.' I lifted my right hand. 'On the sacrament,' I swore. 'And on your mother's soul!'

Benjamin knew me well. Mother had died young but all my memories of her were sweet. God knows I dreamt of her every night in some form or other. To me, her memory was sacred. 'On my mother's soul!' I declared. Benjamin sighed but the sword point didn't fall.

'Oh no, master,' I joked. 'Don't say I have to take an oath not to drink wine or kiss any girl?'

Benjamin smiled thinly. 'While I am gone, Roger, I will worry. You are back to your medicines, aren't you? Cures for catarrh; to make hair grow where it doesn't; to make the fat lean and the lean plump.' I swallowed hard.

'Roger, you know such trickery will take you to the gallows. I want you, now, to bring all your medicines down here. Go on!'

I hastened to obey. I suspected what was coming. I could have wept as I filled my bag with dried cowpate (Shallot's cure for baldness); lambs' testicles (Shallot's cure for impotence); dried newt (Shallot's veritable cure for catarrh); juice of valerian (for those who couldn't sleep); and my latest discovery, dried sunflower seed mixed with pig's urine and ground dates to make a man more virile. Into an old leather bag I piled the phials and potions, saying goodbye to each of them as if they were close and bosom friends. I returned downstairs. I looked fearfully at the spade Benjamin held in his hands though, thankfully, his sword was now sheathed. He took me out across the meadow to an old and ancient hill that overlooked the mill. I gazed tearfully down at the rush-filled riverside, savouring the memory of my sweet nights with Lucy Witherspoon. 'What are we going to do, master?' I asked.