Arcadia

by Iain Pears

  Finally, they applied themselves to her head. Her hair was brushed like it had never been brushed before, with sweet-smelling liquids massaged into her scalp so it tingled. They cut it – how on earth would she explain that when she got home? If she ever did – and bound it up in a complicated arrangement which somehow stayed in place when they had finished. It never did when she tried it in her bedroom.

  Rosie was almost asleep from the surfeit of sensations by this time, so she made no objection when they began on her face. This was again rubbed and massaged, her eyebrows plucked, her teeth violently cleaned, before they began on the make-up. Her mother had never allowed even the slightest hint of paint – though other girls her age were experimenting – so she would have become excited had she not been so relaxed. Lips, cheeks, eyelashes, eyebrows, nose, ears were all given full attention until Rosie could no longer even grasp what they were doing to her. Later she realised that they had not only cut her hair, they had dyed it as well. Oh, am I going to be in trouble, she thought. Finally they brought an extraordinary wig, long and golden, quite unlike her own hair, and carefully put it on her head, tucking her hair out of the way. It was surprisingly comfortable.

  Then they were finished and – tentatively, nervously – held up a mirror for her to see herself.

  Rosie gasped in utter astonishment. In the glass there stared back at her, wide-eyed with wonder, the face of an undeniably, amazingly, fabulously, magnificently beautiful young woman, the like of which she had never seen in a mirror before. ‘Lordy!’ she said reverently. ‘Just look at that!’

  The servants smiled nervously, realised it was approval and then grinned broadly.

  *

  When she was finally ready, Rosie was taken to Lady Catherine’s private suite in the house, shown through the door and left alone with her.

  She was so bewildered by this stage she had stopped thinking altogether. Nothing made sense. She could, of course, have behaved normally – stamped her feet, burst into tears and demanded to be taken home – but she suspected that would achieve nothing. This was all too elaborate to be some joke. Too solid to be a dream. Too strange to be anything other than real. She was dressed, manicured and coiffed more elaborately than any debutante or film star, being treated like some form of royalty and had no choice but to play her role. That might, at least, allow her to find out what all this was about. Meanwhile, she might as well enjoy herself. Worrying wasn’t going to make any difference.

  Her idea of courtly behaviour came mainly from the novels of Jean Plaidy and the lesser Hollywood epics she saw on a Saturday morning at the Odeon. Not much, but in all of these silence and slow movement seemed to be the foundation of grace. The first was not her strong suit, but she had, often enough, practised being presented at court in the privacy of her little bedroom. She could do what was necessary.

  To her vague disappointment, it wasn’t required, at least not yet. In her rooms Lady Catherine was relieved of her duties as Lady of the domain. There – and there alone – she could be herself. It was where she received Henary, for example, when she wanted a proper argument with him. Where she received those she trusted and liked, when she did not need the protection of her position. By Rosie’s standards she was still formal, but certainly less scary or strange.

  ‘Sit, Rosalind, please do.’

  Lady Catherine was also transformed for the Festivity. She wore what Rosie guessed was a cloth-of-gold robe and had rings on every finger, one of gold, one of silver on each and all with stones in them. Her fair hair – which Rosie now realised was a wig as well – had been brushed with gold paint, so that it sparkled in the light. Around her were belts, several of them, across her chest, stomach and hips. The effect was very peculiar but, Rosie conceded, very attractive also. ‘You look very nice,’ she said. Lady Catherine smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You also look quite different.’

  ‘Don’t I just! Who would have thought! If Mummy could see me at the moment, she’d have a heart attack, I think.’

  ‘I do hope not. Is your mother ill?’

  ‘Oh, no. Fit as a flea, but she’s not one for dressing up, if you see what I mean. Especially me. She thinks I’m too young.’

  ‘Too young? You must be – what, fifteen?’

  ‘And a quarter.’

  ‘You are not married?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Betrothed, then?’

  Rosie laughed. ‘Don’t be daft,’ she said. ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon. It’s just a saying. No. I am not. People don’t get married until they are in their twenties at least. Normally, I mean.’ She decided not to go into the example of Amy, who had had to leave school suddenly last year.

  ‘You come from a long way away, don’t you?’ came the suddenly serious question.

  Rosie nodded. ‘I think I must.’

  ‘Do you know anything of Anterwold?’

  Rosie looked at her, open-mouthed. ‘Did you say Anterwold?’ she asked incredulously. ‘Anterwold?’

  ‘Yes. That is what this land is called. Did you not know that?’

  ‘Oh. No,’ the girl replied, properly flustered for the first time. ‘I know nothing. I don’t know where I am or how I got here. I don’t know how I’m going to get home. I’m going to be in real trouble when I do. I mean, not perpetual slavery. But a lot of detentions. Anterwold? Are you serious?’

  ‘Hush, my dear, don’t worry. We wish to help you. It may be you will be able to help us as well. We shall see. I must tell you that at the moment there is nothing we can do. We don’t know how you got here either. But Henary …’

  ‘Yes. Him. He seems terribly nice.’

  ‘He is the wisest and most learned man in the land. If anyone can help you, he can. You must trust him, for he means only well. Can you do so?’

  ‘I will ask Jay.’

  Lady Catherine raised an eyebrow. ‘You trust the opinion of a student over mine?’

  ‘Certainly,’ Rosie said. She smiled apologetically for her cheek.

  ‘In that case, you must ask him. He will be your escort for the Festivity. I hope that does not offend you.’

  ‘Oh no! Why should it? Who is he, anyway?’

  ‘Henary says he is one of the most gifted students he has ever had, although apparently he is quite unaware of that, so please do not tell him. Pride gets in the way of learning. One day – if he learns to obey rules and follow orders, which at the moment seems unlikely – he may be a very great Storyteller.’

  ‘Is that good?’

  Catherine looked at the girl, who was evidently serious.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘There is no higher achievement or honour in the world.’

  ‘In that case, it must be a very different world from mine,’ Rosie replied.

  *

  In contrast to Rosie, Jay received no special treatment, for which he was deeply grateful. Any attention he might have received would certainly have been unpleasant, and he still could not believe his good fortune in escaping unscathed, at least temporarily.

  Moreover, he had questions of his own to ask. For example, when he left Henary, he was met by a servant, carrying his best robes. By the elevated standards of Willdon, they were poor enough, what he had to wear on high days at college, but they were a great deal better than his normal clothes. Henary had brought them with him, but how had he known in advance that Jay would disobey his orders to stay outside the domain? Had he been determined to overlook the fault even before it had been committed?

  An imponderable question, with no answer that he could see. Oddly, mysterious though it was, it was not the thought that filled his mind as he found his way to the bathhouse (the communal one – no one was going to celebrate his presence) and began to prepare himself for the night.

  No; his mind was full to bursting with the strange girl who had reappeared before him. So many questions floated in his head, he could not fix on any one long enough to make sense of it. Who was she? Where was she from? Why the unusual name, appearance, c
lothes, words, behaviour? Why was he given the job of being her guide for the evening? (Henary’s explanation made no sense.) Why such a welcome for her? Who (he repeated for the tenth time) was she?

  When he met her once more, just as dusk was beginning to fall, he did not recognise her. He was standing in the first courtyard, wondering how the evening would unfold, when he saw two figures approaching him. Both were of unmatched beauty and elegance, one tall and fair, the other shorter, and with long golden hair. Both wore the finest clothes he had ever seen in his life; over their faces they already wore the glittering, elaborately painted masks which gave both an air of mystery. They were, he thought, nothing to do with him; his role was merely to stand in the corner, watch them go by and admire from a distance.

  But they walked towards him and the shorter woman smiled. It was the smile that jolted him into realising who she was, and also that the creature next to her must be the Lady Catherine. He went down onto one knee with a deep reverence.

  ‘Stand up, Master Jay,’ said Lady Catherine. ‘I do not intend to eat you this evening. Breakfast tomorrow, perhaps?’

  Jay returned to his feet but could not look into her eyes, so shy and abashed was he.

  ‘Or perhaps I should leave that to your master. What do you think?’ she added.

  ‘Shall I do the introductions?’ Rosie asked. ‘Now, let me see; I’d like to get it right. It seems so important here. “It is my very great pleasure, and an honour to me and my family …”’

  ‘Only a pleasure,’ Jay corrected. ‘Only a master should be introduced with very great pleasure. In fact, in my case, you should probably say “It is my duty”.’

  ‘For this evening, we grant you very great pleasure,’ Catherine said. ‘In fact, we might dispense with it altogether, as the Festivity starts so soon. You are Jaramal, son of Antus and Antusa, and are known as Jay.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Then that is what I will call you also. I welcome you to my home, Jay Antusson; may you be happy here, as if it were your own.’

  Jay was speechless, which was, for once, not good. He was expected to say something in return. Luckily Rosie did not realise this and interrupted.

  ‘Jay!’ she said. ‘Isn’t this just fantastic? There’s going to be a party, and you are to be my escort. Lady Catherine says it will last all night. I’ve never been up all night. Except once on New Year’s, but that was only because I sneaked out of bed when everyone was downstairs.’

  ‘It will be my very great honour …’

  ‘Oh, do stop all that, please, or you’ll be no fun. As I’m stuck here, I have decided to enjoy myself, and I can’t do that if you keep on bowing at me and looking as though you’ve just swallowed the soap.’

  Lady Catherine laughed. ‘Well said, Lady Rosalind. Jay, I command you to obey her wishes, and those of your master.’

  With that she withdrew, leaving them alone.

  Jay scarcely noticed her going; instead he was gazing at Rosalind.

  ‘What? What is it? What’s wrong? What have I done now?’

  ‘Nothing. I just think you look beautiful.’

  She blushed mightily at the compliment. No one had ever said anything like that to her before. The closest she had ever come was when Colin in year two had said she was quite pretty, he supposed. This was a great improvement and she didn’t know how to reply. So she just said, ‘Do you mean it? Or is that just what you’re meant to say?’

  ‘I mean it. Every word.’ Then he held out his arm and she linked hers in it. He adjusted it so that her hand was gently resting on his forearm, and said, ‘Would you care to walk around the Festivity?’

  The guests had been arriving in the far courtyard for some time and were spreading out around the gardens. All were in their finest clothes, all talked softly. Only the occasional sound of laughter rose above the gentle murmur of voices. Then a loud trumpet sounded from an open window on the second floor of the house and a great cheer rose up, with applause and cries of ‘Well sounded, trumpeter! Sleep well! May you sleep through dawn!’

  ‘We’ve begun,’ Jay said. ‘Now all is permitted until dawn.’

  ‘Anything?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So go and ask Lady Catherine – or should I call her Katie? – for a dance.’

  ‘You should not call her Katie. It may be permitted but that does not mean it is wise.’

  ‘Coward.’

  ‘I admit it. Besides, I want nothing more than to talk to you. “I would not want to choose for wealth and not for perfect love.”’

  It was a quotation, of course, but not entirely spoiled by the fact that Rosie didn’t notice. In fact, Jay realised with a start, it was just as well she didn’t. The story was of the starving man given a choice between a pig and a beautiful but foolish woman. In the end, after much anguish, he chooses the pig to feed his family, uttering the words as he sends the woman away. Not the best of compliments.

  ‘What’s this party in aid of? This Festivity, I mean.’

  ‘It is the fifth Festivity of the rule of Lady Catherine. It marks her accession.’

  ‘She has it every year?’

  ‘She should, but Henary tells me that for the last two years she cancelled it. The harvests were bad, and she said it would be better to leave the food with those who needed it.’

  ‘Good for her.’

  ‘Not everyone thought so. Some considered it a scandalous break of tradition. Gontal made a fuss about it.’

  ‘Did you think it scandalous?’

  ‘I know nothing about it. Only what Henary told me an hour ago. Anyway, the music will begin soon. Let us walk until then.’

  ‘What about food? I’m starving.’

  ‘Later.’

  *

  The Festivity was magical beyond imagining. Much of the grounds had been taken over and the paths were lit with torches which cast a soft, reassuring light over the hedges and bushes. All around were gaily coloured pavilions and tents, which contained food and drink or music and dancing. Some were put up by guests, for it was a grand thing to have your own tent for such an occasion. At one point a tall masked man bowed deeply to Rosie, leaving her confused about how to respond.

  ‘Should I have done something there?’ she asked when they had walked past.

  ‘You should have curtsied back,’ Jay said. ‘It is safe to do so for a while longer. As you did not, he undoubtedly thinks you are haughty and proud. You have humiliated him, and the only good thing to say about it is that there was no one around to watch.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry! Let’s go back and I’ll apologise. It’s just that he reminded me a little of that horrid man I met in the forest.’

  ‘That would make things worse. What man?’

  ‘Before I came across you. There was this man. I said hello and we talked, but then he ran off. It wasn’t important, I suppose, but he was really rude. I didn’t like him in the slightest. Do you know how sometimes you can dislike someone the moment you meet them? And what do you mean, young Jay, when you say “safe to do so for a while longer”?’

  ‘After night has properly fallen and the stars are out, if you curtsy back to a man you become his companion for the next hour.’

  ‘Goodness. What for?’

  ‘To do whatever you wish to do. It’s not a promise of marriage or anything, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘Best to forget about it now. Explaining why you didn’t respond might take all night. Besides, I am supposed to keep you close.’

  ‘Are you indeed?’

  ‘Yes. Henary gave me strict instructions.’

  ‘Did he? Then you can tell Henary from me that I don’t want him choosing my companions any more. I suppose if it wasn’t for that you would be off with someone else. I’m sorry you have to spend time with me. You must find it a terrible imposition.’

  ‘No, no, no. Dear Rosalind, I can think of nothing better. I am the luckiest man in the world. Do you
think I would be able to accompany a woman of such beauty otherwise?’

  She grunted, slightly mollified by the completeness of his apology. ‘I’m sorry. I am a long way from home. Please remember that every time I make a mistake.’

  They walked without speaking for a while, until Jay said softly, glad to be able to move on to a new subject, ‘Look, we are at the lake. Shall we take a boat?’

  They had indeed arrived at a small jetty which jutted out into a broad lake that had been illuminated by torches on tall poles in the water. On the lake already were half a dozen boats, drifting or being rowed slowly towards the centre. They had lanterns in the rear and were covered in brilliantly coloured cloths.

  ‘Would you join us, young couple?’ cried a man standing upright in one of the boats. ‘We have space for two more, and I’d welcome another pair of hands.’

  ‘Gladly, sir, thank you,’ Jay said, and he steered Rosie towards the water. ‘Do you mind?’ he whispered. She shook her head and allowed herself to be handed into the boat, where she sat next to a large woman at the front.

  ‘The best evening to you,’ said this woman cheerfully. ‘What a splendid occasion this is. I present myself as Renata from Cister. That is my husband, Beltan. Are you comfortable? I do hope your young man is better with boats than mine is. Otherwise we are going to go round in circles and get seasick. Do you care to introduce yourself, my dear?’

  All this was delivered in a torrent of good humour that rather reminded Rosie of Mrs Hamilton, the old lady who ran the bed and breakfast for students down the road. She also would begin a conversation with about twenty questions.

  ‘My name is Rosalind,’ she said, aware of the fact that she was beginning to think of it as her proper name. That reminded her of the young man in the forest again. Of his look, his eyes, and the tingled confusion in her stomach. ‘This is Jay,’ she added.

  ‘Excellent! Young, tall and strong. That’s the way I like ’em. Master Jay! Pick up that pole and pay the price of youth, if you please.’

  Jay laughed and did as instructed, or tried to. In truth, he wasn’t very good. Rosie, who had been taken punting once or twice and had watched students from the river bank, wanted to jump up and show him how it should be done, but it would ruin her clothes and might not be the right thing to do. ‘Make sure the pole goes down fast and straight,’ she called out. ‘Otherwise you’ll push us sideways.’