"Keo,” his mother shouted from the kitchen. “Shelby Lacoore brought something by for you."
On the back porch, Keo stood above a large wool blanket spread across the boards of the veranda and examined his work from above.
On it lay three linen under tunics, three dark green pairs of woolen hose, a black wool tunic, a wool cloak and a waxed linen over-cloak with hood. Beside the clothes were few objects; a candle stub, flint and tinder box, a dozen sheets of writing paper in a thin leather folio, a pen with three nibs and two small bottles; one empty, the other corked and filled with ink powder.