Portrait in Gold

Part One

Chapter 1

Kate McGovern made one last pass around her apartment making sure that everything was in order. Two crystal vases filled with red roses flanked a tall African statue sitting in the middle of the mantle. A bowl of white calla lilies graced the coffee table, and a colorful Moroccan shawl hung across the back of the couch. She had spent most of the day polishing and cleaning every inch of her apartment. Smoothing out a few small wrinkles on the shawl, she glanced into the mirror over the sideboard and pushed her hair away from her face. Now it was time to wait. Vivian was always late and even though they had not seen each other in almost four years, Kate expected Vivian would still be late. Promptness was not one of her virtues.

Half an hour and two martinis later, the buzzer on her call box rang. Kate pushed the button and a very familiar voice said, Open the damn door. I’m freezing. Kate grinned and listened until she heard the front door open. She waited a few minutes before she opened the door to her apartment and was surprised when Vivian fell into her arms. My God, a third floor apartment and no elevator, you must be kidding? Vivian gasped.

Well, hello, it’s good to see you, too, Kate said, waiting for Vivian to regain her composure. Setting her luggage down, Vivian grabbed Kate. Now, I need a proper hug.

Vivian quickly scanned her surroundings and gave a nod of approval. Nice place, but really you didn’t need to drag out that ugly statue and if you had been using that shawl all these years it would have faded by now. I’m really over that stage in my life. Circling Kate, she said, And you, my dear friend, look great. What have you been doing, Botox, Liposuction, what?

Four days a week at the gym, no alcohol except on the weekends and fast food is a thing of the past, Kate replied.

Vivian kicked off her shoes and settled into the corner of the couch. That sounds pretty boring. I need a drink, anything but water, milk, juice or soda.

Martini okay?

You bet. Make it a double so you don’t have to get up so often. It is so good to be here. I can’t believe I’ve been away so long. Of course, I didn’t miss the grime of New York. I feel like I could scrape it off my face right now.

Oh, please, this is one of the best cities in the world, but I guess Paris just sounds so much more romantic.

Speaking of romance, I know there is no one new in your life since I talk to you every week, but I do have some news. Roger and I are no longer a couple. He called me yesterday and we decided it was time to part ways. I have only seen him four times in the last year and when he comes home he always smells like the most current fragrance on the market. So now, I’m ending my fifth or is it my sixth serious relationship and you haven’t even started the first? They were all nice guys, but if you leave a man alone enough, he’ll find some kind of trouble to get into. I suppose loving my job more than my boyfriend didn’t help either. I’m getting tired of having to redo my condo after they move out. They always seem to leave with more than they came with. Vivian held her martini glass up, A toast to single women and short romances. I suppose you and I are doomed to end up two old spinsters sitting on a porch somewhere drinking martinis.

You know, I’ve had high school boyfriends, college boyfriends, but now I want a grown up boyfriend, not just somebody who wants to play house. It seems like I’m never in the right place at the right time. There is no one at work I’m interested in and I’ve given up the bar scene. I never meet anyone that I want to spend more than one evening with. I’m a whiz at first dates, Kate said.

Did you ever think maybe you’re just a little too picky about men? Even when you found someone you really liked, you analyzed your relationship until you found something about him that you didn’t like and it would end before you ever gave it a chance. Then you dwelled on it until it became the focal point of everything he did or said. Honestly, how did you and I ever become best friends?

Are you saying that I’m anal retentive? Kate asked, laughing.

Oh, I wouldn’t go that far, but I do know that once you set your mind on something, it gets written in stone.

I’m not ready to settle, yet. When I do it will be marriage, honeymoon and babies in that order. Anyway, look who’s giving me advice. You’re the one that will live with a man, but not marry him.

Vivian held up her empty glass. Touché, that calls for another drink. Could it be that your mother has scared you away from marriage? How many times has she been married?

Four times. Now she has decided that living with her current crush is much easier than all those messy divorces. Did I tell you that she is going to sell Grandma Addie’s house in San Francisco? It makes me sad. That was the only real home I ever knew.

Why don’t you buy it? Vivian asked.

Are you kidding, Kate replied. That house is on the national register and right now I would imagine it’s worth at least a couple million dollars. I live here and I don’t plan on moving to California. Mom said it is costing her a lot of money to maintain it and no one is living in it right now. I can see her point, but a member of our family has lived in that house since it was built over a century ago. Mom has pretty much stripped it of everything of value, except for some of the older furniture.

That sounds like your mother, old greedy Glenda, the wicked witch of the south. I loved that house, too, Vivian said. I loved spending time there during the summer when we were in college. I remember sleeping in a bed so high off the floor I needed a step stool to get in it. The room had wallpaper with big yellow flowers and a big chandelier hanging right over the bed. I can still picture that big green thing hanging over my head and watching it spin around after you and I had come home from a night on the town.

I hated the idea that my mom always argued with my grandmother when we went to visit, Kate said. My mother was always looking around, asking questions and wanting to take things from the house. We were at Grandma Addie’s wake and mom disappeared for a couple of hours. Later, we found out that she was over at the house, snooping around and putting things in her car. She couldn’t even wait until Grandma Addie was buried. Becky asked mom if grandmother had a will. Mom said that she had tried for years to get her to make one, but Addie said it wasn’t necessary since Glenda was her only child and she would be her only heir.

That sounds rather suspicious to me, Viv said. Your grandmother loved you and your sister and I am sure she wanted to leave you some of her possessions.

Kate wanted to change the subject. I don’t want to talk about her anymore. It will put me in a bad mood. Okay, now tell me what’s going on with your job and this whirlwind schedule you’re on? Is the auction at one of the houses on Broadway?

Vivian shook her head. Actually this a private auction for invited guests only. It is the estate of a man who lived on Long Island. It should be interesting. I never met him, but I did an appraisal on some of his paintings a couple of years ago. I understand that they are expecting quite a few art dealers, since this man owned a large collection of paintings. There are also other art objects that are purported to be worth a fortune. His name was David Witherow and he had been a recluse for the last twenty years.

And of course, they called in the best to do the appraisals. It’s so hard for me to believe that anyone would trust your judgment Viv, Kate said laughing.

I beg your pardon. I spent eight years studying all those damn old paintings and ugly statues. Give me credit for something. Actually, Kate, I’ve built up a pretty good clientele and they recommend me to other people, so my list keeps getting longer. I love it!

Seriously, I think it’s great that you are so successful and love what you’re doing. I wish I could say the same thing. Compared to what you do, my job is so boring. Actually, not even compared to yours, it’s boring.

Vivian reached over and touched her hand. Look nobody says you have to stay in finance. You’re a smart cookie, and you always wanted to be a writer. I know you chose finance because your father was paying for your education and you thought that is what you should do.

You know he didn’t have much money when I was in college, Viv. After he left my mother, she made sure she got most everything they owned. I know I make a much better living in my present job than I ever would have as a writer.

You don’t know that for sure. You could write my life story and give all those romance gals a run for their money. Vivian yawned. I’ll think about letting you do that, but right now jet lag is catching up with me. I really hate to cut the evening short, but I have to be up at seven in the morning. We’ll have dinner tomorrow night when I get back and we can yack all night. Now show me to my quarters, woman.

Kate opened the door to the bedroom. Remember, bathroom to the right, bed to the left. She gave Vivian a quick hug. See you in the morning.

Kate had just finished brushing her teeth when she heard Vivian let out a loud shriek. Dropping her toothbrush, she ran down the hall. What’s wrong? Are you okay?

Vivian stood in the middle of the room wrapped in a towel. She was holding an eight by ten picture in an ornate gold frame. Where in God’s name did you get this?

Kate reached for the picture, This is a portrait of my grandmother, four times removed, Katherine Ryan.

Get your fingers off of it, Kate. You should never touch a painting this old or leave it sitting out unprotected from the sun. I am in shock that you have this. When I first saw it, I thought it was you dressed up in some fancy costume and then when I got closer, I almost flipped. Do you have any idea who painted it? Before Kate could answer, Vivian continued on. This is a Patrick Hardesty painting. How is it you never told me you had it and what is something as valuable as this doing on the dresser in a spare bedroom?

I suppose the subject never came up. When we were in college we never talked much about our ancestors. We had other things on our minds, like boys, beer pong and studying. I got it out of my closet and put it in here so that you could look at it and know that I am not completely out of the loop when it comes to art. My mom gave it to me before she moved out of the city.

Vivian plopped down on the bed. Well, I know all about Patrick Hardesty. I studied his art when I was in school. Patrick Hardesty painted women’s portraits all across England and Ireland in his early years. He didn’t become famous until he was in his thirties. He painted a portrait for an English government official and that led to commissions for portraits all over the country and finally for the monarchy. Kate, this painting is worth a fortune to the right buyer and here it is, in my best friend’s spare room. Dropping the towel, Vivian slipped into her robe and began rifling through her luggage. She opened a leather case and took out a magnifying glass. Light, I need light. Where is the best light in the apartment?

I have a desk lamp that’s pretty good, Kate said, leading Vivian into the living room.

As she scanned every inch of the picture, Vivian took on a completely new persona. Even the tone of her voice was different. Yes, this oil is signed by Patrick Hardesty. See right here, she said, pointing to the bottom right hand corner. He had a peculiar way of making his P’s. Now, let’s talk about the necklace this woman is wearing. I know a little about the necklace she is wearing. I have a friend who is very interested in it. In the early 1700s, Ewan Medford O’Donnell was a very wealthy Irish landowner. He had five of these necklaces made by one of Ireland’s most prestigious jewelry maker. They were identical down to the number of links on the chains. The middle stone is an emerald surrounded by rubies, and if you turned it over, there were the initials EMOD engraved on the back along with the initial of the daughter who inherited it on her wedding day. He gave one to each of his daughters with the instructions that the necklace be handed down each generation to their first born daughter. In some of the families when no female heirs were born or the woman never married, the necklace was eventually sold or given to another family member. Over the last hundred years, four of the necklaces became a part of a collection owned by a very wealthy man, but the fifth has never surfaced. Vivian leaned back in the chair. I’m not really interested in the necklace. To me this picture is like finding the Holy Grail of the art world. For a lonely appraiser to come up with a painting like this is almost unheard of. You have to tell me everything you know about this picture and the necklace. I want to hear the whole story. I had no idea that your ancestors were part of the O’Donnell dynasty.

Well, it’s too long to begin tonight. Besides you really have me rattled right now. I had no idea that this was valuable except to me. It is very precious to me. In fact it is my most prized possession. It’s the only thing my mother ever gave me. Usually if I say I like something she has, she’ll tell me that she will sell it to me. I don’t have the necklace. I have no idea who has it.

You’re right. Let’s call it a night, but I’m so excited I doubt if I’ll be able to sleep.

Kate also lay in bed thinking about the painting. Even though it was one of her cherished possessions, she never gave any thought to its monetary value.

It was right after her mother, Glenda’s last divorce that Glenda decided to move out of her apartment in the city into a smaller house in the suburbs. Kate had agreed to help with the move and it became a long and tedious project. Her mother vacillated over every piece of furniture and object in the three-bedroom apartment. It took them a week just to get the kitchen and dining room ready for the move. They were working on the guest bedroom and her mother was standing on a chair in front of the open closet handing things to Kate. She handed Kate the painting that was wrapped in brown paper. Kate laid it on the bed with the rest of the things. An hour later, she peeled back the paper and saw the painting. She remembered that she had remarked to her mother how special it was to her when she was little.

Glenda said that her mother, Addie, had given it to her on one of her visits to California a few years back. Glenda never liked it. It wasn’t her style, but she didn’t want to hurt her mother’s feelings since they had just recently made amends after so many years of a strained relationship, so she took it. She only put it out when her mother came to visit her.

When Kate asked her mother if she could have it, Glenda said yes. Kate was sure her mother would probably want money for it, but she said she would let Kate have it in exchange for all the work she had done helping her get ready for the move. Glenda said that Addie had two trunks full of old journals that she wanted Glenda to read. Glenda wasn’t interested in the contents; she wanted a trunk for storage, so she only took one and left the other behind. When she brought the trunk to her house and opened it up, it smelled so musty that she put it in her storage room in the basement of the apartment house.

Kate hoped her mother still had the journals.

Chapter 2

The next morning, Vivian opened the door to Kate’s bedroom. She flipped on the overhead light and said, Good morning, sleepyhead.

Kate pulled the cover over her head. Go away. You said you had to get up at seven. It’s not even light out yet.

Well, I have a wonderful idea and I just couldn’t contain myself any longer. Get up. I made coffee. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, she pushed Kate back and forth. Come on, get up.

Okay, okay, so what is your brilliant idea that can’t wait until you come home tonight? Kate retorted.

I couldn’t go to sleep last night without telling someone about the painting. I called a friend of mine who I knew was going to the auction today and he is very interested in meeting you. He’s flown over from Ireland just for this sale. When I told him about the painting, he almost decided to miss the auction just to come here and see it. I told him that wouldn’t be necessary. I was sure you wouldn’t mind coming with me. He is absolutely brilliant when it comes to Irish culture and art. He used to be the curator of the O’Donnell exhibits at the National Museum in Dublin. He knows all about your ancestors. He lives in Ireland most of the time, but his parents still live here in New York.

Yes, I do mind. I don’t want to go. You just take the painting with you. See you tonight. Kate turned over and closed her eyes.

No, no, he wants to meet you and talk to you since you’re a relative of Katherine Ryan. He said he has some information about her that you might not know about. Come on. How much time do we get to spend together? I might not see you for a long time, Vivian said.

Kate sat up and stretched her arms in the air. So now I get the guilt trip. You’re such a conniver. What should I wear?

Twenty minutes later, they were in front of Kate’s building with Vivian standing in the street hailing a cab.

Once in the taxi, Vivian fidgeted in the seat. Damn, how long does it take to go eight miles? When is New York going to get with the program and start taking some action to improve traffic problems? In Paris public transportation is the quickest way to get anywhere.

Kate grinned, This isn’t Paris. I guess as soon as they can get permits to knock down some of these buildings, they can widen the streets. Stop worrying. We have plenty of time.

See, I told you we would make it. We have twenty minutes to spare, Kate said as they arrived at the Witherow Estate in Sagaponack, Long Island. Two armed guards stood in front of the closed iron gate. After checking Vivian’s identification, the gate was opened and the cab proceeded in. Ushered into a small building directly inside of the gate, Vivian and Kate had their picture taken by another uniformed officer. A few minutes later they were each handed a badge which, they were told, must be worn while they were inside the grounds of the estate.

Don’t look so concerned, Kate. This is standard procedure, Vivian whispered, as they got back in the cab and followed a procession of cars up the driveway.

Man, this place is creepy. Looks like the Munster’s house. Look up there, Kate said, pointing to the roof of the house. Those are huge gargoyles. I never knew people actually put gargoyles on their house. I bet the neighbors up here just loved him.

It doesn’t matter. He was a billionaire and besides this place is so secluded they probably never even knew what the outside of the house looked like, Vivian replied. She paid the driver and grabbed her large leather case from the back seat. Let’s go see if we can find Clayton. He told me that he would wait for us in the library until the auction started.

As they walked down a long hallway filled with garish furniture and faded carpets, Kate couldn’t help but think that the musty smell of the house overshadowed anything that would seem valuable enough to sell. Later that day as each item was put up for bidding; she realized how wrong she was.

A guard in the hallway checked their badges and gave them directions to the library. Expecting to find walls lined with leather bound books and exquisite furniture; Kate was surprised to find only a huge mahogany desk and a few odd chairs. The desk had a large sign on the front that read, Sold, Number 628. Instead of meeting someone who should look like a curator, smoking a pipe or wearing a wool blazer with leather patches on the elbows, she was met by a man, perhaps in his mid-thirties, with blonde hair and black rimmed glasses.

Vivian quickly moved forward and gave the man a hug. Finally releasing him she turned to Kate. Clayton McAllen, I would like for you to meet my dear friend, Kate McGovern. Clayton extended his hand. Ah, yes, the lady with the illustrious portrait. Please have a seat, he said as he pulled two chairs close to the desk and took out a magnifying glass.

As Vivian sat down, her foot touched Kate’s leg. You’re staring, she said behind her hand. Vivian took the painting out of her case. She carefully unwrapped it and laid it on the desk in front of Clayton. He sat quietly examining the portrait through a large magnifying glass.

A few minutes later, he pushed his chair away from the desk and said, I am astounded. I have never seen a Patrick Hardesty portrait in this size. He always made large paintings and so I assumed when Vivian told me about this one, I was ready to tell you that it was just a very good replica of an original. Not true. I am ninety-nine percent sure this is indeed an original painting by Patrick Hardesty. And the necklace, of course, is a very important clue. Since we know there were five, this one had to belong originally to Elizabeth O’Donnell. All of the other four necklaces are accounted for. I am very much interested in how this painting ended up in the United States. Do you know, Kate?

I have no idea. My mother gave it to me and it was given to her by her mother, Adeline. That’s all I know. She had just finished her sentence when a loud bell began to ring.

The auction is getting ready to start. Are you going to stay, Miss McGovern?

Yes, Kate replied. I think it might be interesting.

I’ll save you a seat. Now, we better go, Vivian. As they left the room, Vivian looked over her shoulder and winked at Kate.

Kate walked around the outside of the building for a few minutes trying to clear her head and stuffy nose caused by the musty smell in the house. She wondered if Clayton was married.

When she returned to the house, the grand ballroom where the auction was being held was filled to capacity. As she stood in the back of the room, Kate could see Clayton in the second row waving his program in the air. She was a bit embarrassed to be given such a privileged seat, but she excused herself and made her way down the aisle. Sitting down next to Clayton, she mouthed the words thank you, since the auctioneer had already begun making preliminary announcements on the rules of bidding. Kate began to sniffle.

Clayton leaned close into her and whispered the word cats in her ear.

She gave him a quizzical look.

He repeated the word, Cats. The man who owned this house had about twenty cats. I’ll bet that’s what is causing you to stuff up.

You’re so right about that, she answered. I’m allergic to cats.

For two hours Clayton gave his undivided attention to the process that was happening on the stage. Paintings were carried out, placed on an easel, a brief description was given of them and then the bidding began. She watched in awe as the white cards with numbers on them were raised in the air as the price of each painting grew higher and higher. Hundreds of thousands of dollars were being spent by people from all parts of the world. There were telephone handlers taking bids as Vivian sat on the stage in case there were any questions about the artwork being sold. Kate jumped each time the gavel was banged on the podium and the word Sold echoed through the room.

When the auctioneer announced that there would be a thirty-minute break, Clayton took Kate’s arm. Let’s get out of here for a while. I need to get some fresh air and I’m sure you do, too. He stopped at a refreshment booth, grabbed two bottles of water and a brown bag. This okay? he asked.

Depends on what’s in the bag, she answered.

He grinned at her. Sandwiches, I hope. Usually ham and cheese with mayo.

Right now, I could eat the bag. I wanted to eat breakfast, but Vivian was so anxious to get here all I had to eat was a cup of yogurt.

They found a small concrete bench under a large tree. Clayton brushed the bench with his hand and handed her a bottle of water. Don’t think about eating my sandwich, you might get your hand bitten off, he said laughing.

She liked him. He was intense, yet he had a sense of humor. Taking a bite of the very dry sandwich she blurted out, Are you married? What I meant to say is with a profession like yours it would be hard, I mean with all the traveling you have to do. She was falling over her words.

He shook his head no. I was so close, I could smell the flowers on the altar, but I realized it wasn’t going to work. Allie wanted me to find employment in New York and give up traveling since I would be gone most of the time. We had already talked about that subject earlier in our relationship and she knew that I would never give it up, but then she changed her mind. Allie didn’t take it very well, but I knew I was doing the right thing when I broke it off.

I’m sorry, Clayton, I’m usually not this bold.

No need to apologize. Given time, I probably would have asked you the same thing, but Vivian told me she was bringing her single friend, Kate McGovern, with her.

She can’t wait for me to get married so that I can gripe to her about how miserable I am. She knows that’s one reason I’m not married. I haven’t found anyone who I think I can spend the rest of my life with and that is very important to me. Not Vivian, she changes partners like she changes her hair color.

I totally agree with you. That’s why I’m still single, too. I lead a complicated life. I spend most of my time traveling. Not a very good basis for marriage. Clayton began to laugh. Good Lord, we’re talking about marriage like it was some kind of sentence with no chance of parole. My parents have been married for over fifty years and they still seem pretty happy. Maybe it’s an act for my benefit. He peeled off the crust from his bread and threw it to a flock of birds waiting patiently nearby.

I know you aren’t originally from New York, so where did you call home? he asked.

Atlanta, Georgia.

I would have never guessed that, he said.

Why, is it because I don’t have a southern accent? I only lived there until I was ten and then my family moved to New York.

No, I just thought that with your green eyes and red hair you were going to answer that you were born in Ireland.

I plan on going to Ireland someday. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

You should. It’s a beautiful country. I would be the perfect tour guide since I know everything about the country and the O’Donnell clan, which is your ancestral bloodline. There is one question I would like to ask you. I would really like to talk to you about the painting. Are you free for dinner tonight? I know its short notice, but…

Oh, I’m sorry, Clayton. I really want to spend some time with Vivian. She’s leaving tomorrow and I may not see her for a long time. She hesitated and then added, But, I would love to go out to dinner with you some other time, I mean to talk about the portrait.

Great. I’ll call you next week. I guess we’d better get back inside.

As they walked toward the house, she said, Vivian never told me the reason you were here today. I really didn’t see much Irish art for sale. Is there a special article you want to buy?

I haven’t seen anything yet that has enticed me to raise my number and bid, but these eccentric millionaires have hidden treasures that no one knows about. That’s what I’m waiting for. One of these days that necklace your ancestor is wearing in the portrait is bound to surface.

Three more hours of bidding and the auction was over. Kate’s back hurt, her head hurt and she couldn’t wait to escape from the allergy-ridden house. Clayton was staying around to look at a few more items that were for sale in other parts of the house, but Kate begged off and said her goodbyes. Spotting Vivian in the crowd, she motioned to her and a few minutes later they met outside. They left in a limousine that Clayton had arranged to take them home.

Vivian spread her arms across the velvet seat and let out a sigh. Now that’s what I call a real gentleman. Orders a limo with a stocked bar and doesn’t even ask if he can come up to see your etchings. I think Clayton may be fond of you, darling.

Oh, bull, he is more interested in my etching. He wants to take me out to dinner so that I can tell him all about the painting and what I know about the necklace. By the way, how come you never batted your eyes at him? That was some hug you gave him, Kate remarked.

Don’t think I didn’t try, Kate. He just wasn’t interested. I guess I was just too pushy for him. Every time I see him with a woman she is either another museum geek or someone he is doing business with. Besides, he is too competitive for my taste. I do believe Clayton is scared to death of commitment.

Dang it, I didn’t give him my phone number. How is he going to call me?

Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he gets it. Now hand me that bottle of wine.

Chapter 3

After Vivian left, Kate realized how boring her life really was. She had managed to talk Vivian into staying until Tuesday and Vivian forced her to go out every night. Vivian took her to a couple of nightspots, that the week before, Kate would have probably crossed the street just to avoid walking past them. She had fun, real fun. Drinking, dancing and being around people who didn’t care what she did for a living and weren’t at all interested in why she was there. At the apartment, she got used to Vivian singing opera in the shower and eating cold pizza for breakfast. She never got used to her setting glasses on her walnut tables without using a coaster, never making her bed or putting her dishes in the sink. In spite of all her bad habits, as soon as Vivian left, Kate missed her.

When Clayton called on Wednesday, he said he would like to take her out Saturday night for dinner at his father’s country club. No, she didn’t have to worry; he wasn’t planning on introducing her to his parents. She laughed at his candor, and for the first time in months wasn’t dreading having to deal with the first date syndrome. Of course, it wasn’t a first date, it was just two people getting together to discuss a common interest and have dinner.

Clayton arrived right on time. She watched out her living room window as he got out of the cab. She was relieved to see that he was casually dressed in tan pants and a white polo shirt. She was glad she had decided to wear her favorite blue silk dress, which always gave her a boost of confidence. Kate took off her gold necklace and bracelet. She decided that tonight, less was more.

On the ride to dinner, he told her she looked lovely. She thanked him for sending the limo after the auction. He grinned and said it was going to be there for him anyway, compliments of the hotel, but he didn’t want to use it.

And all along I thought you had ordered it just for me. You ruined it you know. I was beginning to think I was someone special, Kate said.

You are, he replied as his fingers casually touched her hand.

They had drinks on the balcony and then were seated at a table overlooking the lake. Their food arrived and the rest of the meal was spent making small talk.

After dinner, Clayton took her hand and they walked along the pier. It’s kind of strange that you’re stalking my ancestors, Kate said.

Clayton laughed. "Don’t worry, all the ones I have been researching are dead. You come from a very elite family, Kate. Their reign goes all the way back to the twelfth century.