"Where is it?" Physician Ingle watched as Mother Shipton furiously rooted around in her cave's earthen floor. As she searched, she muttered to herself like a chicken scratching in the dirt. In her hand she held the latest secret correspondence from Father Ballard. She needed the new cipher to decode his message.

"Curses! How will I write my next newsletter?" She spat on the floor, working her gums.

"This is bad news, Ursula." The physician's face remained impassive.

"It's that wicked girl. I know the wench stole it!" She stood upright, poking the earthen floor with her gnarled walking stick as she spoke. A speckled chicken ruffled it's feathers, clucking loudly as it scurried to the other side of the room seeking safety from Ursula's wrath.

The physician listened carefully as she continued muttering, more to herself than to him. "I was in a hurry yesterday morning. I had to reach the King before he left Bisley." Mother Shipton waved her hands, excitedly. "I wrapped the cipher a wool shawl then placed it in a hole in the floor under the cupboard. It's my secret hiding spot away from prying eyes." She shook her head, disgusted with herself. "I was careless. She was here early, delivering my writing supplies. Her uncle makes the papyrus I like to use. She must have snuck in after I left to steal the damned book. God help us, we will all be killed once the letters regarding the Rebellion are deciphered!"

"Which girl?" Ingle asked.

"Eh?" Distractedly, the old woman brushed the dark earth from her hands, turning to look at him. "The wretched serving girl from the Manor, Simone."

Mother Shipton is an old crone, but she's observant. Simone is well trained, but the old sage knew a thief when she saw one.

"I must get the book back. I don't care who has to be tortured to find it."

"You are sang froid, Ursula."

"I'm not the one who killed three wives, then blamed them for my own lack of fertility!" Mother Shipton spat the words out like an angry cat. "The King's only legitimate son will not live long enough to succeed him. I don't need a vision to prophecy that fact. There's going to be an upset in the line of Tudor succession. It's time for the House of York to regain it's rightful place on the throne."

"You're right, Ursula. I'll do everything within my power to find the book." Ingle pulled his cloak over his shoulders, preparing to leave.

Mother Shipton continued to pace anxiously in the small cave. She waved, dismissively for him to get out of her way. Ingle knew the prophetess didn't fear being executed, so much as she did becoming obsolete. He almost felt sorry for the old witch. 

The Physician picked up his black medical satchel. I feel terrible, deceiving this old woman. Especially when it's taken years for me to gain her trust. But Neville needs this book. He can't be controlled by Walsingham if he has the cipher. Little did Ursula know, the book was safely tucked away in his leather medical bag. Hidden a mere, few feet away from her. He walked to the door, carrying the bag lightly, as if it held a newborn babe. With this cryptology key, Neville and I will control the White Rose Party. He nodded satisfied with himself.