by Ashly Graham
Carew said impatiently, ‘En bref, Father, please. You are not writing your memoirs.’
‘What I am saying, firstly, is that Northumberland—my servant Grammaticus—my younger son—and I are at last to assume the mantle of immortality that should long ago have been draped around our shoulders. We shall become as immaterial as the ether into which our souls would have fled at the moment of our appointed deaths.
‘Secondly, the Earl hath also determined, through a complex combination of theoretical and empirical analysis that I am incapable of comprehending, calculated the precise second at which the wretched Cordial’s power to arrest our departure will be nullified. That moment is due to occur...let me see…’—Ralegh stroked his beard in an affectation of forgetfulness—‘ah, yes, it is to be on the stroke of noon tomorrow.’
Arbella, Carew, and Grammaticus gasped, and Arbella looked at her watch. She said, ‘You mean that in only...’
‘Tomorrow, then, not only am I to be released, but also those whom I unwittingly caused to partake of the same infusion, the same bane: Lord Henry, Carew, and Grammaticus. Nor is my wife to be excluded, though I should not be surprised if Death, tasting her poisonous flesh, spat her back into the world. Tomorrow are the years to roll back, and Time, so long prorogued, will reassert itself as if it had never been deprived of its sovereign sway over our bodies.
‘It is therefore now most incumbent upon me to tell you how sorry I am, not only for what I have been responsible for—though it is surely too late to atone for my prideful interposal in Divine matters—but for the short period afforded ye to make such preparations as ye may wish for your departure into the hereafter.’
Ralegh looked embarrassed. ‘A detail: I do not mind confessing my embarrassment at learning from the Wiz that, of the twenty-six ingredients in my Cordial, fully twenty-five of them contributed nothing but flavour, and not in each case good flavour. By keeping their names to ourselves we intend to take the secret of the one with us.’
It was Carew who broke the silence. ‘Well, I can’t say that this doesn’t come as a relief, Father, as well as a shock. To have defied Nature for so long places an extraordinary burden upon the spirit, which each of us has experienced in ways that have largely, at least so far as I have been concerned, remained unshared. Perhaps there was little point in discussing them.
‘But Father, the most important thing is that you must not think that I in any way blame you for anything.
‘I do have a single question, however: since I am the only one of us who has been active in the modern world, the only one who will be missed, though I should not take such for granted of my mother, I wonder what shall be made of that?’
Ralegh exchanged glances with the Earl. ‘I already put that question to the Wiz. The answer is that what public record remains of Master Carew Ralegh, Gentleman, will relate only to his historical existence. I exclude Arbella from my generalization, for she is close and privy to our secret and will remain so.
‘Otherwise, the extension of life that followed the date of thy naturally appointed decease will be, at the moment of our departure, “cancelled from inception”...as I believe the phrase is in thy risky business.’
Arbella decided that this would be an appropriate time for her to withdraw, out of respect for the men’s privacy, and leave them to continue to assess the implications of the revelation. As she walked quietly to the door, she took the Ralegh slip from her case and approached Carew with it, laying her hand gently on his arm where he stood with head bowed.
Carew roused himself from his brown study and accepted the document. ‘Thank you for reminding me, Arbella…please don’t go just yet. Father, changing the subject for a moment, we were on a mission when we came to visit you this afternoon: to deliver your completed contract.
‘Though it is no longer of any consequence, and will be forgotten by the subscribers as if it never existed—for my identity will be lost, and with it the recollection of all those who followed me onto it—its importance is undiminished by our new circumstances, which it preceded in reality.
‘As such you must therefore know that it was only through the conviction of Miss Arbella, the ingenuity of her design, and her unshakeable resolve, that it was brought to fruition.’
Ralegh reached out and took the slip.
‘You will see,’ continued Carew, ‘that it confirms the public esteem in which you still are held. The percentages represent the commitments of various syndicate underwriters on behalf of numerous private individuals who have agreed to wed their fortunes to yours. This contract is the mark of the greatest confidence in your integrity, your intelligence, and your ability. In sum, it honours your reputation.’
Though Sir Walter seemed to read the slip through several times, Arbella got the impression that he was not taking in much, but instead was taking the time to absorb the significance of Carew’s comments.
Then he said, hoarsely, ‘Of all the recognitions I have received in my life, this is without equal, and I am deeply appreciative, Arbella, of thy selfless work on my behalf. I only wish that I were able to fulfil my end of the bargain: in so saying, I hope in some small measure to convey to thee how much it means to me.
‘May I also assure thee that thy efforts were not in vain, for this does much to prepare me for the journey I am to take, in one direction only, outward bound to a destination where I will hope to remain forever in the company of those I love. I will accept this, therefore, in all humility, as a “Westward Ho! and Bon Voyage!”’
Ralegh went to the table, poured more wine, and passed the cups around. Raising his, he said, ‘On this final occasion that we are gathered together in private, then, I say to my lady Arbella: I wish you health, long life, and great happiness. In the short time of our acquaintance, thou hast done much to divert me from my brooding, and disperse the gloom of centuries. Thou hast reminded me of the pleasures of conversation, which I used to enjoy so much before I grew stale and quarrelsome.
‘In return but not in recompense…and I should have mentioned it before but something held me back…I would like to tell thee that such was my confidential relationship with my elder son, Wat, that he confessed to me on several occasions his profound love for your namesake, Lady Arbella Stuart. In my opinion it was not misplaced, for I memorialized it in my Walsingham poem.’
To her surprise, although Carew had already informed her of this, and recited the poem to her in full, Arbella felt tremulous at hearing first-hand confirmation of the connexion, as she spoke the lines,
‘
...true love is a durable fire
In the mind ever burning;
Never sick, never old, never dead,
From itself never turning.
‘Next,’ said Sir Walter, ‘I confirm my fond love for Lord Henry Percy, Earl of Northumberland: despite the misfortune of your northern heritage, you have, dear Henry, for the longest time been my valued friend and companion, as well as my fellow scientist, partner in outlandish schemes, sparring partner in debate...and valued source of revenue at the card-table. Thank God for Harry Percy!
‘And to Grammaticus, who has stood by me through thick and thin, and endured my moods and intemperances, I can only say that my suffering would have been impossible without thee. Impossible to bear, I mean,’ added Sir Walter with a droll smile. ‘Thank you for thy comradeship and support, loyal Grammaticus.’
Grammaticus cleared his throat and looked away.
After a pause Sir Walter cleared his throat, and looked Carew fully in the face. ‘To my son, I will begin by saying this: though your more recent achievements, and they have been numerous and impressive, will be forgotten, I do not forget them and I commend thee for them. I applaud thee for thy energy and independent spirit, which hath far exceeded mine own during this extended period of our after-life life.’
Ralegh dropped to his knees. ‘Carew,’—it was the first time that Arbella had heard him address him by name—‘Carew mine, I thank you from the bottom of
my heart for the constant love that I have received from thee. Despite the neglect and indifference I have shown thee from thy earliest days, thou hast borne mine anger and boorish insults with unfailing tolerance.
‘Only the most loyal and loving of sons could have put up with such behaviour. I do not presume to ask for thy forgiveness, because I do not deserve it. My greatest regret is that, though I have always known the degree of my cruelty to thee, it is now too late to make amends. However I give thanks to God for his mercy in allowing my undeserving role in enabling thee to pursue the career that thou hast, and to accomplish so much, and to permit me to have the opportunity of acknowledging it and telling thee how sorry I am for the misery I have caused thee.
‘I take comfort in the fact that we will be embarking upon the greatest adventure of all together: father and son, we will go forth together into the great unknown.’
Carew, very pale, took his father by the hands and raised him to his feet. They embraced, and as they stood together facing the others, to Arbella it seemed that, though they had never been able to give it expression, neither had ever doubted the love of the other.
Sir Walter raised his cup again. ‘To ye all!’ he said, and they drank. Then Grammaticus went out to fetch a bottle of Madeira from the cellar and, having brought it back and opened and poured it, without any affectation of accomplishment wheeled in a trolley on which were plates of delicacies, including what Arbella took to be songbirds roasted on wooden skewers, and larks’ tongues served on Ritz crackers.
Arbella so admired the unforced light-heartedness of the others that, though she did not eat anything and only took a small glass of Madeira, she did her best to keep a brave face and say nothing that might weigh upon the rising spirits of the others.
But as Carew proposed another toast, hard as she struggled to put the contemplation of what she was about to be deprived of to the back of her mind, she knew that the recent vibrant colour of her life was rapidly fading back to the grey it had always been.
‘Regarding tomorrow,’ Ralegh announced in a matter-of-fact voice; ‘ye will be relieved to know that I intend to make very few remarks before the audience. Last time, my reputation was more important to me than anything, and, knowing that my words were being recorded for posterity, I was intent upon performing well. But now nothing matters to me except my parting from you, true members of my family. The rest will be silence.’
Perhaps it was the light, but Arbella thought that Sir Walter Ralegh looked much younger.
Chapter Thirty-Six
King James arrived on Tower Green enveloped in scent and courtiers, and followed by a retinue of pursuivants, retainers, equerries, pages, and servants. Announced by a heraldic fanfare, he was escorted to the canopied gallery next to the tiered stands that had been reserved for him and his favourites, on the other side of the Green to the area that had been cordoned off for the groundlings.
The erstwhile monarch was in a thundering bad temper. If one had to be hauled back into the world for anything, from one’s demon-and-smoke-free environment—James had scraped entry into Heaven, where he lived in a bed-sit and was accorded minimum privileges—the last person he wanted to find responsible for it was that renegade mountebank Sir Walter Ralegh, whose spirit he thought he had consigned to the flames.
But unfinished business was unfinished business, under universal law, and James had no choice but to obey the recall order. What made the situation worse was that his courtiers, whose presence was also required, were tickled pink and disposed to enjoy themselves. The King’s ill humour was compounded by the way everyone was ignoring him, and his having to eject somebody’s child from his chair, whereupon he discovered that the brat had left an ice-cream cone, now melted, on the velvet upholstery where the royal bottom was due to be placed.
Although Arbella had never seen them before, the aristocrats pouring in all knew who she was. It was fun to be bowed and curtsied to and addressed formally; nobody seemed to care any more about her historical relative’s role as a figurehead of treasonous opposition to His Majesty…or, if they did, now that they were immune to prosecution they wished to manifest their approval. Despite being very taken with the genuine period costume of the upper-class members of the audience as they made their way to the roped-off Court section, Arbella was repelled by their obnoxious smell, which even out of doors was inadequately disguised by a ghastly mixture of perfumes, and the balls of civet and musk that many were swinging.
She was in a good seat, which somehow had been reserved for her, in the middle of the stands next to Carew, Grammaticus, and the Earl of Northumberland—Sir Walter had insisted on making his final preparations in his rooms alone—with whom she was talking for the first time.
Despite his noble status, because he was a prisoner Lord Henry was not allowed to sit with his peers amongst the peers. Arbella was most uncomfortable in the company of the three men under such extraordinary circumstances, and she was having difficulty in making conversation; but she gathered from his lordship’s rheumy eyes and congested chest, the inflammation and swelling of his already bulbous nose, and his frequent recourse to a large polka-dot handkerchief, and a flask, that he had come down with a cold.
This, combined with his deafness and aristocratic stutter and Elizabethan syntax and grammar and accent, made communication with someone she did not know extremely difficult.
When Arbella commented upon Lord Henry’s indisposition, he told her that he had for the past several nights slept naked in a rocking chair next to an open window, with packs of ice tied to his body.
Pressed as to his reason for doing so, the Wiz said that he had been occupied since they parted—for what point was there in going to bed?—in trying to conclude his research into whether the common cold might be cured. The Earl had a formicarium in his apartment, he elaborated, to provide him with a ready supply of formic acid, the emission of ants, to be applied in a poultice to his nose as soon as his throat became scratchy, his sinuses began running, and he started sneezing: all of had occurred at a quarter past three that morning, which of course was too short a period for any conclusive result to be forthcoming.
Defeat was a bitter pill for him to swallow, said Lord Henry: it had been a long-held ambition of his to find a solution to this greatest of mysteries, which he would have liked to bequeath as his posthumous legacy to the world…to which end he had spent the last couple of hours pounding the formic acid into pill form—and a bitter pill indeed it was, he said—to leave behind.
Given that rhinoviruses were too complex a subject to broach at this point, and that hundreds of years later there still was really not much to report, Arbella merely nodded and shook her head in sympathy.
It was not only the Earl who had not slept. Grammaticus, who appeared unperturbed by the imminence of his departure...either that, or he did not place as much trust in his lordship’s calculations as the others...had retired early hoping for a good night’s rest. Instead, he had been kept awake by late-night carousers outside the building, and the sounds of revelry and bawdy songs from the Tower’s taverns; which, although they had only been licensed to remain open until one o’clock, had ignored the order and were still serving drinks at sunrise—with the microbrewed ale, and rum-based Ralegh cocktails proving most popular.
Sensible of Arbella’s almost uncontainable disquiet, while everyone was arriving and talking nineteen to the dozen about the amazing turn of events, Grammaticus was most solicitous towards her, and did his best to distract her from her grief by pointing out various important figures and recounting the various plots and scandals that they had been embroiled in.
As he was doing so, a very hung-over-looking Elizabeth Throckmorton Ralegh arrived, and was shown to a privileged seat under the royal box’s striped canopy. King James, who was in better humour now that the ice-cream on his seat was covered with his Lord Chamberlain’s cloak, doubled, ermine trimmings up—the ironic Ralegh analogy was not lost upon His Majesty—favoured Lady Ralegh with the
realignment of the lips that in Scotland passes for a smile…which Arbella attributed to James’s acquaintance with her ladyship’s publically acknowledged disavowal of sympathy with her husband.
The most liberal application of powder and pearls had failed to disguise the red weals on Bess’s shoulders, which had been caused by a precautionary over-tightening of the knots that had restrained her yesterday.
When her ladyship spotted the Ralegh party, absent the guest of honour, she looked down upon them with a hatred that cut through the air like an acetylene torch. Before she sat down, she held aloft the red leather drawstring bag in which she had always intended to carry around her late husband’s head, and which she was now keenly anticipating putting to its designated use, and shook it triumphantly.
Grammaticus, who was familiar with the Earl of Sandwich’s inspired invention, had brought with him several packages of slices of bread with chopped liver between them, to sustain them through the ordeal. But since none of them could stand liver, to Grammaticus’s chagrin they all declined on the grounds that they were not hungry; whereupon Grammaticus remembered that he did not like liver either.
More welcome was a large Thermos of coffee, “with a drop of something in it”, as the retainer described it while pouring the liquid into four plastic cups. After Arbella took a sip, she said that she could not taste the coffee for whisky, which she did not like; whereupon Henry Percy, who had already emptied his own flask, took her cup, quaffed it in a single draught, drained his own, tossed the cups over his shoulder into the lap of someone Arbella thought looked familiar, and pronounced himself fully recovered from his cold.
