A series of stories by lilith street the wooden lady was the form of the virgin mother, in the prow of the ship headed for the bays of portugal. made completely of wood, her stone-like form was carved from the hulk of a tree. she was now silvery, grown soft and had a mystical appearance. the salt of the ocean had done its work. an almost catatonic figure, she was heavy, and no one could move her. an unknown artist in london paints the images for the sacred book the fleurs de lys. it is given as a christmas gift to nine-year-old henry vi, in honour of the marriage of the duke of bedford to anne of burgundy. her father did not know she was even an artist, and had her locked in an asylum called bedlam. he assumed she was only employed as the scullery maid in the castle. but the prince had held the very book in his hands, and locked it away in his royal library. it was sitting there in all its splendour as a tribute to the truth. from a king of the old world with an olive branch to an olive oil prophetess. . . from a fleur de lys manuscript during the renaissance to a fleur-de-lis in ironwork featuring the work of miss elizabeth. . . from a visit with a royal princess to a wild lily pinned on an ebony gate . . . there are many forms of confession, of becoming ageless and innocent.