Andrew Haywood with us, though I must confess it's not always a pleasure. The man's a wreck⦠cold sweats and delusions when he's at his worst."
  "Sounds helpful."
  "Claims it's altitude sickness but there's a suspicion that he has a taste for his own medicine cabinet."
  "I'm surprised you put up with him."
  "Can't really send him home can we? He was the measure of civility on our voyage but since taking residency here he grows from bad to worse. It's a damned mess⦠my wife has been under the weather recently but she refuses to let him anywhere near her. Can't say I blame her."
  "You've brought your wife with you?" Ashe found the idea startling given the politics of the time.
  "Oh she's a bright spark, my Helen, wouldn't dream of waiting dutifully behind for my return. Besides, she has always taken an interest in my work, her knowledge would put many lesser botanists to shame."
  "Taught her all you know."
  "I suppose I have," Walsingham smiled. "Besides, it makes these long expeditions all the more palatable to have her by my side. A marriage withers in isolation don't you think?"
  "Indeed I do," admitted Ashe, though he couldn't lay claim to any personal experience. There was an air of nervousness to Walsingham when he discussed his wife that Ashe found curious. For all his sentimental words, there was discomfort there. His "bright spark" was not the source of pleasure he made her out to be.
  "I think we can risk moving now," Walsingham said, poking his head out of the cave. "The light will be gone soon and the last thing we want is to be stuck out here in the dark." He pulled his pack on and tightened his scarf around his face. "Do you have no equipment?" he asked, his voice muffled by the thick wool.
  I didn't think I'd need any for such a brief trip, thought Ashe, I certainly never intended to go trekking over mountains. "I'm travelling light," he said. "Left the main party just over the last ridge." He hoped Walsingham didn't question him further. Next time he should prepare a cover story.
  "A proper Sherpa, eh?" Walsingham replied, heading out into the open air.
  They made their way out onto the narrow ledge, Walsingham leading the way. "The journey is a short one," Walsingham continued, "you should be fine. I have rope if we come unstuck en route ."
  The ledge widened out a few yards from the cave and the going was as easy as Walsingham promised. Ashe couldn't help but be reminded of his recent trek within the house, where he, Carruthers, Miles and Penelope had travelled up the side of a mountain rising â in typically preposterous fashion â within the walls of one of the sitting rooms. Then they had been lucky enough to have a staircase to follow and regular pitstops within furnished caves.
  "It should only take us half an hour or so," shouted Walsingham. "Once we get around the next bend you'll see the monastery. I make it a point never to travel too far from the base on my own, once you get further afield the climb is far too dangerous to be attempted without roped support."
  "No need to make your wife a widow in the name of botany," Ashe replied.
  "Indeed not."
  After a few minutes the landscape below revealed itself. Further down, in the shelter of a narrow valley, a building pulled its stone walls around itself as if for warmth. Banners fluttered on parapets, shivering from exposure. A bell sounded, ringing around the central courtyard and calling the monks that lived there to prayer. Prayer was good, Ashe thought, bodies huddled in the fug of incense fires as they chanted. Even if nobody was listening it took the chill off.
  "Sounds like evening prayer's started," he said to Walsingham.
  "They never stop," Walsingham replied. "A more devout band cannot be imagined."
  "I suppose there's not much else to do up here," said
  "Sounds helpful."
  "Claims it's altitude sickness but there's a suspicion that he has a taste for his own medicine cabinet."
  "I'm surprised you put up with him."
  "Can't really send him home can we? He was the measure of civility on our voyage but since taking residency here he grows from bad to worse. It's a damned mess⦠my wife has been under the weather recently but she refuses to let him anywhere near her. Can't say I blame her."
  "You've brought your wife with you?" Ashe found the idea startling given the politics of the time.
  "Oh she's a bright spark, my Helen, wouldn't dream of waiting dutifully behind for my return. Besides, she has always taken an interest in my work, her knowledge would put many lesser botanists to shame."
  "Taught her all you know."
  "I suppose I have," Walsingham smiled. "Besides, it makes these long expeditions all the more palatable to have her by my side. A marriage withers in isolation don't you think?"
  "Indeed I do," admitted Ashe, though he couldn't lay claim to any personal experience. There was an air of nervousness to Walsingham when he discussed his wife that Ashe found curious. For all his sentimental words, there was discomfort there. His "bright spark" was not the source of pleasure he made her out to be.
  "I think we can risk moving now," Walsingham said, poking his head out of the cave. "The light will be gone soon and the last thing we want is to be stuck out here in the dark." He pulled his pack on and tightened his scarf around his face. "Do you have no equipment?" he asked, his voice muffled by the thick wool.
  I didn't think I'd need any for such a brief trip, thought Ashe, I certainly never intended to go trekking over mountains. "I'm travelling light," he said. "Left the main party just over the last ridge." He hoped Walsingham didn't question him further. Next time he should prepare a cover story.
  "A proper Sherpa, eh?" Walsingham replied, heading out into the open air.
  They made their way out onto the narrow ledge, Walsingham leading the way. "The journey is a short one," Walsingham continued, "you should be fine. I have rope if we come unstuck en route ."
  The ledge widened out a few yards from the cave and the going was as easy as Walsingham promised. Ashe couldn't help but be reminded of his recent trek within the house, where he, Carruthers, Miles and Penelope had travelled up the side of a mountain rising â in typically preposterous fashion â within the walls of one of the sitting rooms. Then they had been lucky enough to have a staircase to follow and regular pitstops within furnished caves.
  "It should only take us half an hour or so," shouted Walsingham. "Once we get around the next bend you'll see the monastery. I make it a point never to travel too far from the base on my own, once you get further afield the climb is far too dangerous to be attempted without roped support."
  "No need to make your wife a widow in the name of botany," Ashe replied.
  "Indeed not."
  After a few minutes the landscape below revealed itself. Further down, in the shelter of a narrow valley, a building pulled its stone walls around itself as if for warmth. Banners fluttered on parapets, shivering from exposure. A bell sounded, ringing around the central courtyard and calling the monks that lived there to prayer. Prayer was good, Ashe thought, bodies huddled in the fug of incense fires as they chanted. Even if nobody was listening it took the chill off.
  "Sounds like evening prayer's started," he said to Walsingham.
  "They never stop," Walsingham replied. "A more devout band cannot be imagined."
  "I suppose there's not much else to do up here," said
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