Fools' Gold by Philippa Gregory

might read them to Brother Luca, and he would test the gold.’
    Ishraq beamed at him in gleeful triumph. ‘You need my learning, Brother Peter?’
    The older man gritted his teeth. ‘I do.’
    ‘You don’t think that translating a recipe for testing gold will strain my poor woman’s intelligence to breaking point?’
    ‘I hope that you will survive it.’
    ‘You don’t think that such knowledge should be kept to men, only to men?’
    ‘Not on this occasion.’
    She turned to Luca. ‘Do you want me to translate the recipes for you? Will you test the gold?’
    ‘Of course,’ Luca said. ‘We can use the spare room next to mine. We will have our own goldsmith’s assay room!’
    Only Freize caught the shadow that crossed Isolde’s face at the thought of the two of them working all day together in the small room.
    ‘And tomorrow, I will go out and exchange some more coins for gold,’ Brother Peter said. ‘We will have to test a number of coins to be sure.’
    ‘And the lasses can buy new gowns,’ Freize said happily. ‘And masks, and hats. And I shall look through my boxes and see if I can’t find some more coins to turn into English gold nobles. A man could make a small fortune in this town by doing nothing but buying at the right time.’

Immediately after breakfast, the following morning, Ishraq and Luca were side by side at a table in the spare room off the dining room, quiet with concentration. Luca was staring at half a dozen beautiful golden coins purchased by Brother Peter from the money changers. Ishraq had a scroll of manuscript before her. Carefully she unrolled it, weighted the top and bottom so that it could not roll up, and started to translate from the Arabic into Italian. ‘It says first you have to look, to see if it has been stamped or marked by the goldsmith or mint.’
    Luca squinted at the coins, one after another. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘They’re all marked as English nobles, minted by the English at Calais. They’re all marked in exactly the same way. Identical.’
    He made a note on a piece of paper beside him, and then carefully put the paper over the coin and gently rubbed a coloured stick of sealing wax over it. The image on the coin showed through. ‘Now what?’
    Ishraq tucked a curl of dark black hair behind her ear. ‘Check for discolouration, especially wear,’ she read. ‘If another metal is showing through the gold, then this is gold plate, a gold veneer laid over a cheaper metal.’
    Obediently, Luca turned over every coin and looked at the beautifully bevelled edges of the whole coins. ‘They’re perfect. All of them. Same colour all the way round.’
    ‘Bite it,’ she said.
    ‘What?’
    She giggled, and he glanced at her and smiled too. ‘It’s what it says here. Gold is soft, bite it, hold it in your mouth for the count of one hundred, and then look at it. If it is gold, your teeth should mark it.’
    ‘You bite it,’ Luca replied.
    ‘I’m the translator,’ she said modestly. ‘You’re the assayer. I am a mere woman. In your faith I think it is me that tells you to bite the apple. Besides, I’m not cracking my teeth on it. You’re the one that wants to know: you bite it.’
    ‘God Himself tells us your sex bit the apple first,’ Luca pointed out. ‘So we’ll both bite one,’ he decided, and handed her a half noble and kept a whole coin for himself. Solemnly, they both put the coins at the side of their mouths, bit down, held the coins, counted to one hundred and then looked at the result.
    ‘I’m amazed!’ she said.
    ‘I can see my teeth marks!’ he agreed.
    ‘Gold then.’
    ‘Write it down,’ Luca instructed her. ‘What’s the next test?’
    ‘We have to scratch it with an earthenware plate.’
    Luca went to the door, opened it and yelled down the stairs. ‘Freize! Bring me a bowl from the kitchen!’
    ‘Hush!’ Freize said, labouring up the stairs. ‘Lady Isolde has half of Venice in her room above us, fitting her with gowns,