To Eleanor, the only things that can possibly fly through the air are either birds — such as her dear little goshawk, with which she loves to hunt in the forest — or arrows. The thought that a message could fly through the air, not even attached to a pigeon, and be invisible, to boot, is far beyond her ken, and, to her, even a cause for merriment. Indeed, even as you are reading this, Eleanor and her ladies are seated in the Great Hall, filled with mirth at the visual image of words flying through the air. What would ducks say, were they to see such missives flying about? In their little minds, “worldwide web” means something entirely different. The robins, as well, would be nonplussed, their feathers quite ruffled at the sentences flying by. ‘Tis just as well that Eleanor can depend on messages delivered on horseback, rather than on the internet; she knows for certain Hugh — ah, Hugh! — will be in receipt of her message and that it will not be lost in the air somewhere over England. And it is so important that Hugh read that message….