Samples from the Seedling Growth investigation aboard the International Space Station help researchers study the impact of the microgravity environment on plant growth. (NASA) View large image
View of the TROPI seedling cassette for the European Modular Cultivation System, or EMCS, aboard the International Space Station Destiny laboratory module during Expedition 14. (NASA) View large imageWhy is NASA conducting plant research aboard the International Space Station? Because during future long-duration missions, life in space may depend on it.
The ability of plants to provide a source of food and recycle carbon dioxide into breathable oxygen may prove critical for astronauts who will live in space for months at a time. In addition, plants provide a sense of well-being. At the McMurdo Station for research in Antarctica -- a site that in the dead of winter resembles the space station in its isolation, cramped quarters, and hostile environment -- the most sought after section of the habitat is the greenhouse.
NASA and the European Space Agency, or ESA, are studying how plants adapt to micro- and low-gravity environments in a series of experiments designed to determine the ability of vegetation to provide a complete, sustainable, dependable and economical means for human life support in space. As researchers continue to gain new knowledge of how plants grow and develop at a molecular level, this insight also may lead to significant advances in agriculture production on Earth.
Plant biology experiments on the space station using the European Modular Cultivation System, or EMCS, allow scientists to investigate plant growth and the processes within their cells to understand how plant life responds to conditions in space. Researchers currently are planning three new plant growth investigations specifically designed to examine the growth of seedlings in microgravity using this facility.
Combining the proposals of NASA Principal Investigator John Z. Kiss, and ESA Principal Investigator Javier Medina, the Seedling Growth investigation will continue at the space station for a series of experiments: Seedling Growth 1, 2 and 3 in 2013, 2014 and 2015 respectively. The results of these experiments will help researchers understand how plants sense and respond to the space environment.
Once aboard the space station, astronauts will conduct experiments to examine the seedlings' cultivation and stimulation under controlled temperature, atmosphere composition, limited water supply, illumination and acceleration conditions using centrifuges. Because the station crew is key to the success of the experiments, crew members will receive significant training, including on-board computer video instruction.
Thus far, NASA's Ames Research Center, Moffett Field, Calif., has completed three experiments using the EMCS. The 2006 study called Root Phototropism, or Tropi, used Thale cress (Arabidopsis thaliana) seeds from the mustard family to investigate how plant roots respond to varying levels of light and gravity. Using a rotating centrifuge, Kiss designed the experiment to expose the plants to different gravity conditions.
In 2010, the Tropi-2 experiment expanded on the knowledge gained from the first Tropi investigation. Collectively, the two studies demonstrated how red and blue light affects plant growth differently at varied levels of gravity. With this information, researchers now know that they can optimize plant root and shoot growth in space by fine-tuning the plants' exposure to light.
Most recently, the Plant Signaling space experiment, led by Principal Investigator Imara Perera, research associate professor at North Carolina State University, Raleigh, N. C., studied the roots and shoots of wild type and genetically modified Thale cress plant seedlings in microgravity and 1g -- a simulation of Earth's gravity. Images of the seedlings were sent to Earth before astronauts harvested and preserved the seedlings for post-flight analysis. The frozen plants are scheduled to return to Earth in 2013 aboard a SpaceX Dragon capsule.
The analysis of these data will lead to an understanding of the molecular mechanisms plants use to sense and respond to changes in their environment. Insights gained from this study will help scientists identify plants that are better able to withstand long duration spaceflight and microgravity conditions.
Unique Environments Demand Specialized Equipment
Provided by ESA, the EMCS consists of a holding structure filling four station lockers and includes an incubator with two centrifuges. Two to four Ames-developed Experiment Containers, or ECs, can mount to each of the two centrifuge rotors to allow scientists to perform experiments at various g-levels up to twice Earth's gravity, or 2g.
The EMCS design enables control of temperature, humidity, oxygen and carbon dioxide. Equipped with white and infrared lights, EMCS also can control g-level simulation and water to perform experiments with biological samples. Video observation, imaging, data handling and command systems allow for control of the experiments inside the ECs. The ECs have specialized systems to study cell biology, small aquatic animals, roundworms, fruit flies and plants.
NASA's Ames Research Center worked closely with ESA to develop specific experimental units designed to grow plant seedlings, particularly Thale Cress, as well as other plant species. The hardware has performed flawlessly in supporting the Tropi-1, Tropi-2 and Plant Signaling experiments and will be used in the upcoming Seedling Growth study.
With The Hobbit hitting theaters soon, the Santa Clarita Library system in California will use the popular movie as a chance to encourage people to return to the library.
The Friends of Santa Clarita Public Library have sponsored book discussions, lectures and games for readers of all ages to celebrate the J. R. R. Tolkien adaptation. In addition, one branch painted an excellent hobbit door on the library entrance (photo embedded above). Here’s more about the events: “To celebrate we are offering a variety of Hobbit related programs and activities. At all programs there will be a chance to win tickets to a free private library screening of the new movie The Hobbit on December 15th at 10 am at the Valencia Edwards Stadium 12 Theater. To win tickets you must be present at a program, have a current library card and be at least 13 years of age.”
UK spies unable to crack coded message from WWII carrier pigeon
By Michael Martinez, CNN
updated 10:21 AM EST, Sat November 24, 2012
Hand-written on a small piece of paper labeled "Pigeon Service," the note consists of five-letter words that don't make sense.
STORY HIGHLIGHTS
The skeleton of a World War II carrier pigeon is found in a man's chimney in England
A red canister attached to a leg bone holds a coded message UK agency can't crack
Meanwhile, a pigeon museum seeks clues in the bird's identification numbers
(CNN) -- Not even the British spy agencies that inspired James Bond can solve the mystery of a secret World War II message recently found on the skeleton of a carrier pigeon in a house chimney.
The meaning of the encoded message apparently died about 70 years ago with the wayward pigeon that David Martin found in his smokestack in Bletchingley, Surrey County, England.
Martin recently discovered the bird's remains with the surprisingly intact message inside a small red canister attached to a leg bone.
The only hope appears to be curators at the Pigeon Museum at Bletchley Park, who are now trying to trace the origins of two alphanumeric identifiers for the pigeon that were also written on the message, the UK intelligence agency GCHQ said this week.
"If they are identified and their wartime service established, it could help to decode the message," the agency said about the pigeon's identity numbers.
To the casual reader, the message is indecipherable.
Hand-written on a small piece of paper labeled "Pigeon Service," the note consists of five-letter words. Those words don't make sense: The jumble begins with "AOAKN" and "HVPKD." In all, the message consists of 27 five-letter code groups.
Deciphering the message requires codebooks and possibly a "one-time pad" encryption system, and those materials "will normally have been destroyed once no longer in use," the agency said. There is a small chance that a codebook survived.
"Without access to the relevant codebooks and details of any additional encryption used, it will remain impossible to decrypt," the agency said.
The one-time pad encryption gave the note added security. A random key is used to encrypt only one message.
"The advantage of this system is that, if used correctly, it is unbreakable as long as the key is kept secret," the agency said. "The disadvantage is that both the sending and receiving parties need to have access to the same key, which usually means producing and sharing a large keypad in advance."
Heightening the mystery are three other issues: The message is undated, the meaning of its destination of "X02" is unknown, and analysts can't identify the sender's signature or his unit.
"Unfortunately, much of the vital information that would indicate the context of the message is missing," the intelligence service said.
The sender's sign-off appears to say "Sjt W Stot," using an abbreviation for "serjeant," an old-fashioned spelling for "sergeant," the agency said.
The use of "Sjt" links the message to the army, the spy agency said.
"If 'Sjt Stot' and addressee X02 could be identified, it could give us a better idea of where to look for the information," the agency said.
About 250,000 pigeons were used during World War II by all branches of the military and the Special Operations Executive, the UK intelligence agency said.
Flying from mainland Europe to Britain, the birds heroically delivered all sorts of messages through a gauntlet of enemy hawk patrols and potshots from soldiers.
"Although it is disappointing that we cannot yet read the message brought back by a brave carrier pigeon, it is a tribute to the skills of the wartime code-makers that, despite working under severe pressure, they devised a code that was undecipherable both then and now," said GCHQ, one of three UK intelligence agencies
It looks as though not everyone in charge of the J.R.R. Tolkien estate is happy with the way the man’s work has been utilized by movie companies. Mere weeks before the release of the first movie in the long-anticipated big-screen Peter Jackson adaptation, Warner Bros. is being sued by the estate for a whopping $80 million for misuse of the rights granted to the company for the trilogy of movies based on Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings books.
Don’t worry, fans, it has nothing to do with the movies; you can rest easy any worries you had about the latest Tolkien installment, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey— the lawsuit is mainly over online slot machines and other digital merchandising. The estate said in a statement to Deadline that:
Not only are gambling services outside the rights granted, but this exploitation of Tolkien’s well-loved work has offended and distressed Tolkien’s devoted fans, harming Tolkien’s legacy and reputation… The plaintiffs have been compelled to take this action to protect their literary and commercial assets and hope that the dispute will be resolved quickly.
Warner Bros. originally had access to the limited right to sell consumer products of the type regularly merchandised at the time such as figurines, tableware, stationery items, clothing and the like. The complaint states that “they did not include any grant of exploitations such as electronic or digital rights, rights in media yet to be devised or other intangibles such as rights in services.”
It looks as though the estate are suing for such a hefty amount of cash because of the “irreparable harm to Tolkien’s legacy” and reputation and the valuable goodwill generated by his works that the Rings casino gaming has supposedly caused. It’s not totally uncommon for disputes like this. Just last month Warner Bros. was on the other side of a lawsuit, accusing a small production company of trademark infringement over its upcoming movie Age of the Hobbits.
So, there you have it, and I can totally understand the case the Tolkien estate. Middle-earth should not be destroyed using low class merchandising techniques like marketing slot machines. Plus, Tolkien was a devoted Christian — there’s probably no way he’d have wanted to be associated with gambling? What are your thoughts
I can see why he wouldn’t have wanted to let it go until his head was separated from his neck. It’s that beautiful. Attributed to Georg Schreiber of Königsberg, Prussia, a 17th century master craftsman famed as the chess set maker to royalty, the game board is made of opaque white amber and translucent red amber on a wood chassis with an ebony superstructure, carved Roman-style portrait busts and chased silver accents. There’s a Nine Men’s Morris board on one side, a chess board on the other, and it opens up to reveal a diptych backgammon board. Inside it holds 14 game pieces of cream amber, with a white amber profile in the center overlaid with translucent red amber, and 14 pieces of translucent orange amber. The profiles are of all the kings of England from William the Conqueror to James I. There is no signature on the board, so we can’t be absolutely certain that it was made by Georg Schreiber. The detail on this piece is one of a kind. No other boards have been found that are so elaborately decorated with allegorical scenes, busts, Latin and German proverbs, silver accents and painted metal underlays. However, Schreiber’s style is hard to mistake, and the many highly specific commonalities between this work and the only known game board to have been signed and dated by Schreiber put the attribution on very solid ground. The signed board is dated 1616. This board is dated 1607, which makes it the earliest Schreiber game board extant. In the first half of the 17th century, Königsberg was the center of amber craftsmanship in Europe. The Sambia Peninsula on the Baltic Sea just northwest of Königsberg had been the primary source of amber in the West since antiquity, and in the Middle Ages, the amber trade was controlled by the Teutonic Order, which ruled the area from 1255 until 1525 when their Grand Master, Albrecht of Hohenzollern, converted to Lutheranism and secularized the Order’s former territories into the Duchy of Prussia. Instead of the rosary beads which had been the primary amber product under the Teutonic Knights, artisans in Königsberg, the capital of the new duchy, focused on crafting courtly objects — caskets, cups, inlay and of course, game boards — for the nobility and aristocracy of Europe.
This particular game board with its exquisite craftsmanship and royal English theme may have first been owned by King James I, who ruled England at the time of the board’s creation and who is the last English king portrayed on the game pieces. These high quality objects were often used as diplomatic gifts. The Elector of Brandenburg, ruler of Prussia, could well have gifted it to King James. The royal provenance is also hard to confirm, but we know that King Charles I was an avid chess player, not even interrupting his game when he was told that the Scots had changed sides and were supporting Parliament. According to the tradition that has accompanied the piece for centuries, King Charles I brought the game board to the scaffold on the day of his execution, January 30th, 1649. There he bequeathed it to William Juxon, the Bishop of London and the king’s personal chaplain who gave Charles the last rites before he was beheaded. Charles also gave Juxon the copy of the King James Bible he had brought to the scaffold with him, and he handed him his “George,” a figure of St. George slaying the dragon that is part of the accoutrements of the Order of the Garter, with the request that Juxon deliver it to the Prince of Wales. By family tradition, Juxon left the game board to his nephew and it stayed in the family for two generations before being passed down to the Hesketh family, who added Juxon to their name as part of the inheritance stipulations. The Heskeths have owned it ever since. It’s the estate of Frederick Fermor-Hesketh, 2nd Lord Hesketh, which is now selling the piece. The Bible was given by Lady Susannah, widow of Sir William Juxon, son of the bishop’s nephew, to their neighbors the Jones family of Chastleton House. The Jacobean manor is now owned by the National Trust, but the Bible remains in the collection there. The Scaffold George, as the insignia became known, did eventually make its way to Charles’ son and is now in the Royal Collection. Other than the long oral tradition and the clear lines of descent from William Juxon, there is some documentary evidence supporting the dramatic King Charles I story. The inventory of the King’s possessions after his execution lists “A Paire of Tables [i.e. two game boards joined together to form a diptych] of White and Yellowe Amber garnished with silver.” Written below the entry is a line saying that it was sold to a creditor of the perpetually indebted Charles for £30. Creditors got first dibs in these fire sales. This is how many of them were “repaid” after the King’s death: they bought something from the royal collection with the expectation that they would be able to resell it at a profit and get some of their money back. (One item listed on the inventory that didn’t sell was Charles’ collection of Raphael’s tapestry cartoons.) How could the game board have been sold to a creditor if Charles gave it to Bishop Juxon, you ask? By order of Parliament, Juxon was allowed to be with the King during his final days under “the same restraint as the King is,” in other words, confined to his rooms in Whitehall Palace. From January 27th, 1649, the day the King was sentenced, until January 31st, the day after the King was executed, William Juxon was being held by Parliament. As soon as he left the scaffold, Juxon was questioned by Parliamentary authorities. They confiscated everything the King had given him and questioned him about the last thing the King said to him (“Remember”). The next day they let him go. Both the game board and the Scaffold George are listed on the inventory. So if these objects were confiscated and sold, how could Juxon have gotten the game board back and bequeathed it to his family? The plausible answer is he simply bought it back from the creditor. The creditor in question was William Latham, a wool merchant, who was doubtless far more interested in cashing out the decorative object than in keeping it, especially since he had had to pony up £30 to buy it from Parliament. We know for a fact that that’s what happened to the Scaffold George: it was purchased by a creditor who then sold it to royalists. They saw to it that George was returned to Charles II in keeping with his father’s request.
Samples from the Seedling Growth investigation aboard the International Space Station help researchers study the impact of the microgravity environment on plant growth. (NASA) 
View of the TROPI seedling cassette for the European Modular Cultivation System, or EMCS, aboard the International Space Station Destiny laboratory module during Expedition 14. (NASA) 
(CNN) -- Not even the British spy agencies that inspired James Bond can solve the mystery of a secret World War II message recently found on the skeleton of a carrier pigeon in a house chimney.
I can see why he wouldn’t have wanted to let it go until his head was separated from his neck. It’s that beautiful. Attributed to Georg Schreiber of Königsberg, Prussia, a 17th century master craftsman famed as the chess set maker to royalty, the game board is made of opaque white amber and translucent red amber on a wood chassis with an ebony superstructure, carved Roman-style portrait busts and chased silver accents. There’s a Nine Men’s Morris board on one side, a chess board on the other, and it opens up to reveal a diptych backgammon board. Inside it holds 14 game pieces of cream amber, with a white amber profile in the center overlaid with translucent red amber, and 14 pieces of translucent orange amber. The profiles are of all the kings of England from William the Conqueror to James I.
There is no signature on the board, so we can’t be absolutely certain that it was made by Georg Schreiber. The detail on this piece is one of a kind. No other boards have been found that are so elaborately decorated with allegorical scenes, busts, Latin and German proverbs, silver accents and painted metal underlays. However, Schreiber’s style is hard to mistake, and the many highly specific commonalities between this work and the only known game board to have been signed and dated by Schreiber put the attribution on very solid ground. The signed board is dated 1616. This board is dated 1607, which makes it the earliest Schreiber game board extant.
In the first half of the 17th century, Königsberg was the center of amber craftsmanship in Europe. The Sambia Peninsula on the Baltic Sea just northwest of Königsberg had been the primary source of amber in the West since antiquity, and in the Middle Ages, the amber trade was controlled by the Teutonic Order, which ruled the area from 1255 until 1525 when their Grand Master, Albrecht of Hohenzollern, converted to Lutheranism and secularized the Order’s former territories into the Duchy of Prussia. Instead of the rosary beads which had been the primary amber product under the Teutonic Knights, artisans in Königsberg, the capital of the new duchy, focused on crafting courtly objects — caskets, cups, inlay and of course, game boards — for the nobility and aristocracy of Europe.
The royal provenance is also hard to confirm, but we know that King Charles I was an avid chess player, not even interrupting his game when he was told that the Scots had changed sides and were supporting Parliament. According to the tradition that has accompanied the piece for centuries, King Charles I brought the game board to the scaffold on the day of his execution, January 30th, 1649. There he bequeathed it to William Juxon, the Bishop of London and the king’s personal chaplain who gave Charles the last rites before he was beheaded. Charles also gave Juxon the copy of the King James Bible he had brought to the scaffold with him, and he handed him his “George,” a figure of St. George slaying the dragon that is part of the accoutrements of the Order of the Garter, with the request that Juxon deliver it to the Prince of Wales.
By family tradition, Juxon left the game board to his nephew and it stayed in the family for two generations before being passed down to the Hesketh family, who added Juxon to their name as part of the inheritance stipulations. The Heskeths have owned it ever since. It’s the estate of Frederick Fermor-Hesketh, 2nd Lord Hesketh, which is now selling the piece. The Bible was given by Lady Susannah, widow of Sir William Juxon, son of the bishop’s nephew, to their neighbors the Jones family of Chastleton House. The Jacobean manor is now owned by the National Trust, but the Bible remains in the collection there. The Scaffold George, as the insignia became known, did eventually make its way to Charles’ son and is now in the Royal Collection.
Other than the long oral tradition and the clear lines of descent from William Juxon, there is some documentary evidence supporting the dramatic King Charles I story. The inventory of the King’s possessions after his execution lists “A Paire of Tables [i.e. two game boards joined together to form a diptych] of White and Yellowe Amber garnished with silver.” Written below the entry is a line saying that it was sold to a creditor of the perpetually indebted Charles for £30. Creditors got first dibs in these fire sales. This is how many of them were “repaid” after the King’s death: they bought something from the royal collection with the expectation that they would be able to resell it at a profit and get some of their money back. (One item listed on the inventory that didn’t sell was Charles’ collection of Raphael’s tapestry cartoons.)
How could the game board have been sold to a creditor if Charles gave it to Bishop Juxon, you ask? By order of Parliament, Juxon was allowed to be with the King during his final days under “the same restraint as the King is,” in other words, confined to his rooms in Whitehall Palace. From January 27th, 1649, the day the King was sentenced, until January 31st, the day after the King was executed, William Juxon was being held by Parliament. As soon as he left the scaffold, Juxon was questioned by Parliamentary authorities. They confiscated everything the King had given him and questioned him about the last thing the King said to him (“Remember”). The next day they let him go.
Both the game board and the Scaffold George are listed on the inventory. So if these objects were confiscated and sold, how could Juxon have gotten the game board back and bequeathed it to his family? The plausible answer is he simply bought it back from the creditor. The creditor in question was William Latham, a wool merchant, who was doubtless far more interested in cashing out the decorative object than in keeping it, especially since he had had to pony up £30 to buy it from Parliament. We know for a fact that that’s what happened to the Scaffold George: it was purchased by a creditor who then sold it to royalists. They saw to it that George was returned to Charles II in keeping with his father’s request.
I can see why he wouldn’t have wanted to let it go until his head was separated from his neck. It’s that beautiful. Attributed to Georg Schreiber of Königsberg, Prussia, a 17th century master craftsman famed as the chess set maker to royalty, the game board is made of opaque white amber and translucent red amber on a wood chassis with an ebony superstructure, carved Roman-style portrait busts and chased silver accents. There’s a Nine Men’s Morris board on one side, a chess board on the other, and it opens up to reveal a diptych backgammon board. Inside it holds 14 game pieces of cream amber, with a white amber profile in the center overlaid with translucent red amber, and 14 pieces of translucent orange amber. The profiles are of all the kings of England from William the Conqueror to James I.
There is no signature on the board, so we can’t be absolutely certain that it was made by Georg Schreiber. The detail on this piece is one of a kind. No other boards have been found that are so elaborately decorated with allegorical scenes, busts, Latin and German proverbs, silver accents and painted metal underlays. However, Schreiber’s style is hard to mistake, and the many highly specific commonalities between this work and the only known game board to have been signed and dated by Schreiber put the attribution on very solid ground. The signed board is dated 1616. This board is dated 1607, which makes it the earliest Schreiber game board extant.
In the first half of the 17th century, Königsberg was the center of amber craftsmanship in Europe. The Sambia Peninsula on the Baltic Sea just northwest of Königsberg had been the primary source of amber in the West since antiquity, and in the Middle Ages, the amber trade was controlled by the Teutonic Order, which ruled the area from 1255 until 1525 when their Grand Master, Albrecht of Hohenzollern, converted to Lutheranism and secularized the Order’s former territories into the Duchy of Prussia. Instead of the rosary beads which had been the primary amber product under the Teutonic Knights, artisans in Königsberg, the capital of the new duchy, focused on crafting courtly objects — caskets, cups, inlay and of course, game boards — for the nobility and aristocracy of Europe.
The royal provenance is also hard to confirm, but we know that King Charles I was an avid chess player, not even interrupting his game when he was told that the Scots had changed sides and were supporting Parliament. According to the tradition that has accompanied the piece for centuries, King Charles I brought the game board to the scaffold on the day of his execution, January 30th, 1649. There he bequeathed it to William Juxon, the Bishop of London and the king’s personal chaplain who gave Charles the last rites before he was beheaded. Charles also gave Juxon the copy of the King James Bible he had brought to the scaffold with him, and he handed him his “George,” a figure of St. George slaying the dragon that is part of the accoutrements of the Order of the Garter, with the request that Juxon deliver it to the Prince of Wales.
By family tradition, Juxon left the game board to his nephew and it stayed in the family for two generations before being passed down to the Hesketh family, who added Juxon to their name as part of the inheritance stipulations. The Heskeths have owned it ever since. It’s the estate of Frederick Fermor-Hesketh, 2nd Lord Hesketh, which is now selling the piece. The Bible was given by Lady Susannah, widow of Sir William Juxon, son of the bishop’s nephew, to their neighbors the Jones family of Chastleton House. The Jacobean manor is now owned by the National Trust, but the Bible remains in the collection there. The Scaffold George, as the insignia became known, did eventually make its way to Charles’ son and is now in the Royal Collection.
Other than the long oral tradition and the clear lines of descent from William Juxon, there is some documentary evidence supporting the dramatic King Charles I story. The inventory of the King’s possessions after his execution lists “A Paire of Tables [i.e. two game boards joined together to form a diptych] of White and Yellowe Amber garnished with silver.” Written below the entry is a line saying that it was sold to a creditor of the perpetually indebted Charles for £30. Creditors got first dibs in these fire sales. This is how many of them were “repaid” after the King’s death: they bought something from the royal collection with the expectation that they would be able to resell it at a profit and get some of their money back. (One item listed on the inventory that didn’t sell was Charles’ collection of Raphael’s tapestry cartoons.)
How could the game board have been sold to a creditor if Charles gave it to Bishop Juxon, you ask? By order of Parliament, Juxon was allowed to be with the King during his final days under “the same restraint as the King is,” in other words, confined to his rooms in Whitehall Palace. From January 27th, 1649, the day the King was sentenced, until January 31st, the day after the King was executed, William Juxon was being held by Parliament. As soon as he left the scaffold, Juxon was questioned by Parliamentary authorities. They confiscated everything the King had given him and questioned him about the last thing the King said to him (“Remember”). The next day they let him go.
Both the game board and the Scaffold George are listed on the inventory. So if these objects were confiscated and sold, how could Juxon have gotten the game board back and bequeathed it to his family? The plausible answer is he simply bought it back from the creditor. The creditor in question was William Latham, a wool merchant, who was doubtless far more interested in cashing out the decorative object than in keeping it, especially since he had had to pony up £30 to buy it from Parliament. We know for a fact that that’s what happened to the Scaffold George: it was purchased by a creditor who then sold it to royalists. They saw to it that George was returned to Charles II in keeping with his father’s request.