by Lisa Klein
As I stared, the raglike bundles resolved themselves into skulls with torn flesh like strips of stiff leather. Their white teeth shone in grimaces. The breeze stirred remnants of hair. Blackbirds pecked at the eye sockets of one that looked more human than the rest. Probably he had been alive only days ago.
I hurried after Emme and Anne, who were passing under the portcullis. In the courtyard the queen laughed, her good spirits restored despite the drizzling rain. Indeed, everyone was merry except for the stern-faced yeoman guards in their scarlet and gold uniforms. I wondered how the queen could be so gay while standing in the very courtyard where her mother had met her death.
I followed Emme toward one of the inner towers, wondering again about the young Elizabeth. Where had she been confined? Had she been afraid? The sound of iron clanking against stone mingled with my thoughts. Surely she had not been chained in a dark dungeon? We entered the Tower. An overwhelming smell of animal waste made me put my hand to my mouth. I heard a screeching and saw colored feathers flash overhead. Then a wailing filled my ears, like that of an angry cat magnified a hundredfold, and a roar sounded in reply, echoing inside the stone tower. What monstrous creatures were here? In the dimness I glimpsed the tawny hide of a beast straining against an iron collar, the fur around its face like a giant ruff, sharp teeth bared. Feeling my gorge rise with panic, I pushed my way out of the Tower and ran into the courtyard, gasping the damp air.
All the way back to Whitehall, everyone talked of the queen’s menagerie. The roaring beast I had glimpsed was called a lion. The catlike wailing came from a leopard, one of four in an iron cage, Emme said. She described their spotted fur and their long, slim tails. Anne snarled, curving her fingertips at Graham, which only made him more amorous toward her.
“My favorite was the bear,” Emme said. “It was a marvel, with white fur, as if the sun had bleached it!”
I wished that I had swallowed my fear and stayed so I could have seen that bear. While the others chattered about the animals, I watched the city through a veil of rain that fell into the roiling river.
As the barges passed the magnificent houses on the north bank of the river and neared Whitehall, the rain stopped. Feeble sunlight shone through the clouds, and the queen’s barge made suddenly for the wharf.
“I’ll wager our Bess has conceived a sudden desire to walk home, obliging us all to accompany her,” Leicester grumbled.
“You know how she likes to be seen. Look at the crowd waiting for her!” said Veronica as we stepped ashore.
“Make way for Her Majesty!” demanded the warder. Gleeful shouts arose as the queen passed. A woman ran forward and, before anyone could stop her, pressed a folded paper into her hand, while others threw nosegays. Most of the flowers fell into the mire of the street.
“Another petticoat ruined,” complained Anne, lifting her skirts just enough to clear the mucky street.
In front of her, Elizabeth paused before a puddle that gave off a peculiar stink.
At that moment a man stepped out of the crowd. He stood nearly a head taller than any of the queen’s guard. His hair was brown and curled, his nose sharp, his mouth wide. A pointed beard graced his chin. He wore a vivid blue doublet that swelled out in front, ending in the shape of a peasecod. His brocade hose were short and wide, setting off lean and strong legs. A cloak was slung over one shoulder. From his left ear hung a gleaming pearl. I drew in my breath at the sight of such a splendid figure.
In one graceful motion, he swept the cloak from his shoulder, laid it on the ground before the queen, and bowed low. The rich cloak, with its fur-trimmed collar and bright gold braid, began to soak up the vile water. I watched, stunned to see such a fine garment ruined. What was the meaning of this extravagant gesture? Who was this generous, impulsive man?
With a smile, the queen gave him her hand, stepped on the cloak, and crossed the puddle without soiling her feet. Seeing the garment already sodden, the other ladies followed suit.
Meanwhile Elizabeth drew the young man close to her and spoke in his ear. When she let go of his hand and moved on, I could see his face shining like that of a lover. I, who had never looked with longing at any man, was seized with a sudden envy of my queen.
I walked around the puddle, avoiding the sorry cloak. Unable to restrain myself, I stared at the man as I passed, drinking in his features. His eyes flickered over me and he smiled—surely not at me, but at the memory of the queen’s touch.
“Close your mouth, you look moonstruck,” said Emme.
“Who was that?” I whispered.
“He is the queen’s new favorite, I daresay,” she replied.
“But what is his name?”
“Why, my dear Catherine, that is Walter Ralegh!”
Lisa Klein is the author of Ophelia, Two Girls of Gettysburg, and Cate of the Lost Colony. A former professor of English, she lives in Columbus, Ohio, with her family.
www.authorlisaklein.com
BOOKS BY LISA KLEIN
Ophelia
Two Girls of Gettysburg
Lady Macbeth’s Daughter
Cate of the Lost Colony
Praise for
Lady Macbeth’s Daughter
“A riveting, nuanced historical drama… . Klein nimbly inserts feminist themes and vivid detail into the story, balancing the political tragedy and battlefield action.” —Booklist
“This is a strong feminist reenvisioning of the original… . A great choice for teen book groups.” —SLJ
“Klein’s novel is very clever and one can’t help but admire her for the way she builds her characters… . This is a very insightful, remarkable read.” —The Compulsive Reader
Praise for Ophelia
Ophelia
“A spellbinding tale of love, murder, and revenge.” —VOYA
“[Klein] has taken one of Shakespeare’s famous plays and written a tale that is a little more user friendly in today’s world… . Add castles, adventure, romance, murder and fleeing for one’s life, and you have an amazing story.”—Teenreads.com
“[Readers] will be swept up by the vivid, atmospheric setting, the heart-pounding romance, the palpable torment, and Ophelia’s fierce, earnest questions about how to love.” —Booklist
Copyright © 2009 by Lisa Klein
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
First published in the United States of America in October 2009
by Bloomsbury Books for Young Readers
E-book edition published in September 2010
www.bloomsburyteens.com
For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to Permissions, Bloomsbury BFYR, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Klein, Lisa M.
Lady Macbeth’s daughter / by Lisa Klein. — 1st U.S. ed.
p. cm.
Summary: In alternating chapters, ambitious Lady Macbeth tries to bear a son and win the throne of Scotland for her husband, and Albia, their daughter, who was banished at birth and raised by three weird sisters, falls in love, learns of her parentage, and seeks to free Scotland from tyranny in this tale based on Shakespeare’s Macbeth.
ISBN-13: 978-1-59990-347-7 • ISBN-10: 1-59990-347-4 (hardcover)
1. Gruoch, Queen, consort of Macbeth, King of Scotland—Juvenile fiction. 2. Macbeth, King of Scotland, 11th cent.—Juvenile fiction. [1. Gruoch, Queen, consort of Macbeth, King of Scotland—Fiction. 2. Macbeth, King of Scotland, 11th cent.—Fiction. 3. Kings, queens, rulers, etc.—Fiction. 4. People with disabilities—Fiction. 5. Witchcraft—Fiction. 6. Murder—Fiction. 7. Scotland—History—To 1057—Fiction.] I. Shakespeare, William, 1564–1616. Macbeth. II. Title.
PZ7.K678342Lad 2009 [Fic]—dc22 2009006717
ISBN 978-1-59990-623-2 (e
-book)
