In one of the cabins a man sat on the edge of his narrow bunk. “I have scarcely left his side. He looked like a French boy soldier she had once glimpsed marching towards his death in one of the battles they would later call the Hundred Years War. ‘Don’t let us quarrel over your Leonardo,’ he said, summoning a faint smile. She withdrew her head with a little moan, and resumed her flight. In the evening, a band of village musicians, accompanied by most of the young inhabitants of Willesden, strolled out to Dollis Hill, where they formed a rustic concert under the great elm before the door. 6.
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