Crown of Stars

by Sophie Jaff

This sobers her a little, and I can see each thought passing across her face.

  Witchcraft is a dire accusation. But this is not witchcraft, not really. Only a wedding gift given to her by a sweet-natured old lady, and if it works, it would be incredible good fortune, but even if it does not, surely there’s no harm in trying.

  I lean forward to whisper in her ear. All around us, the forest seems to hush.

  When I draw back, she is staring at me. For a moment I am wary. What if my voice lost some of its age as I whispered? But then I see that her eyes are wide not with fear but with dreams. The triumph of having three sons floods her with pleasure.

  She hesitates, then begins, “I thank you for this with all my heart. If you would return to the castle later, I will show my gratitude.”

  For a moment, my heart softens. She wants to show her gratitude, but will not insult me by offering charity. She is so young, so lovely, so truly gentle. And then I think of him.

  I look again at this beautiful girl, who has never known want nor pain nor fear nor suffering of any kind. This girl who would take him as her right without a thought of who may have been discarded to make way for her, who is as pretty and void of thought as the birds she loves so well.

  “I will take no payment,” I reply in my cracked, brittle voice. “If I have given you pleasure it is reward enough for me.”

  At this she beams sweetly, and turns back into the sunlight. She floats away to her group, having concealed the package from view within the folds of her dress. I hear her murmuring the words to herself, making sure of them.

  Song to song,

  Skin to skin,

  Lip to cup,

  Heart to wing.

  Bone to bone,

  Day to night,

  Blood to blood,

  Wish take flight.

  I grin in the shadows. She sings like a lark. It will do very well indeed.

  22

  Katherine

  “So, Katherine, how did you meet Matthew?”

  That’s the English for you, she notes. They don’t ask what you do for a living, or where you live, or what you pay in rent. On the whole she enjoys this approach. It’s more challenging. She likes to make an interesting detective game of it, listening for casual clues in conversation to find out what a person does. How long will she take to work it out? So far she’s deduced that Ben is a lawyer and Gunther, an elegant German, is in finance. She still has Jane and William and Anna to go.

  These are all the guests at Matthew and John’s dinner party. Anna and Ben are a slightly younger couple; Jane and William, older and comfortable in their marriage; and Gunther—

  “Zolo.” He smiles. “I’m afraid Kenneth haz a cold.”

  And Katherine and Sael, the Americans.

  This is exactly what Katherine wants: to sit at a large mahogany candlelit dinner table, beautifully set with Derby china and white majolica roses in Flemish glass; to sip Cabernet, or water in her case, from crystal glasses; to be one half of an acknowledged relationship, except . . . except she’s not, because Sael has excused himself. Sael is on the phone again.

  Katherine pushes back her ivory-lacquered dining chair to go into the kitchen, where Matthew reigns supremely. Ostensibly to help out, but really to have a quick gossip.

  She finds him standing under a stone arched fireplace that houses a sleek Aga range. He looks up from the dish of zabaglione he’s fiddling with. “My God, Katherine, why didn’t you mention that you’re living with a film star?”

  “What?”

  “Don’t play coy. Sael! My jaw hit the floor. Do you think we could persuade him to change sides?”

  “Honey, if you can get him off his phone for two seconds, you can do what you want.”

  “Hmmm, now that might be a serious challenge. So what do you think of everyone?”

  “Honestly?”

  “Obviously.”

  “They’re lovely.”

  “I know, so boring to have such lovely friends. I apologize. Wish you could have met Kenneth, though, he’s darling and a little bit of a terror, always gives the evening some spice. Without him Gunther is a little suspect.”

  Over her zabaglione, Jane turns to Katherine with eager eyes. “So how many months are you?” She’s one of those women who like to talk pregnancy.

  Katherine doesn’t hesitate. “I’m in my second trimester.” She’s through with counting weeks.

  “Oh, that’s a good one.”

  “So I hear.”

  “How has it been?”

  “Not bad.”

  “With me, I was sick for almost the entire time—that was my first one. My second, I was good after the first trimester. I mean, good minus all the horrible symptoms.”

  “Yes.”

  “Still, once you hold them in your arms, you know it was all worth it.”

  “So they tell me.”

  Katherine’s monosyllabic answers and stiff body language aren’t stemming Jane’s flow of questions. Time to go on the attack. She takes a deep breath, turns toward her inquisitor, and forces her lips upward into a bright, plastic smile.

  “How do you know John and Matthew?”

  Jane falters for a moment at the abrupt change of subject, but rallies admirably. “Oh, I’m John’s cousin! We practically grew up together.”

  “How nice!” Katherine’s voice grows considerably warmer.

  “Yes,” Jane says, and seems about to add some remark when Ben’s voice rings out, pulling them both into his story whether they want to be pulled or not. Ben is a little pudgy, but charismatic. He’s a bit tipsy, and he clearly loves to be in the spotlight.

  “The oddest thing happened to me the other day. I was waiting for the Tube when this gorgeous woman starts flirting with me.”

  “That is odd.” Matthew winks at Anna.

  “I congratulated myself on choosing my pink tie that morning. I’m telling you, babe, you can’t go wrong in pink. I’m also totally gobsmacked because she’s gorgeous. But let’s face it”—he turns to Anna—“how drunk did you have to be to end up with me?”

  “Incredibly drunk,” Anna deadpans. “My parents still want to know what happened.”

  “So, I’m wondering what the hell is going on, but it starts off casually. I can’t even remember, it graduated into the weather, the agony of Tube delays, the film advertised by the poster across the track.”

  “My lord!” William interjects. “How long were you waiting for the train?”

  Everyone laughs. Sael comes back into the dining room, sits down by Katherine’s side.

  Ben refuses to be derailed. “Not long, but that’s the thing, she was so smooth! And then she suddenly mentions something like, ‘As they say in chapter two, verse eight,’ and then she blushes and gives me this fabulous little smile, and I say, ‘I’m sorry, what?’ And then she says, ‘If you ever wanted to come and see what a meeting is like, here’s my card,’ and she gives it to me and on the front are two letters, H and T, and on the back it says, ‘Heaven’s True.’ And I realize that she’s an evangelist. A gorgeous one, but still, I’m being accosted by an evangelist from Heaven’s True!”

  “Heaven’s True?” Gunther gives a low whistle. “Zey’re here in the UK? From vhat I’ve read about zem, zey zeem zo American. From the Zouth. Born-again Baptist.” He turns to Katherine and Sael. “Of course, no offense to our friends here.” He smirks in a way that she doesn’t like, with practiced creases at the corners of his eyes.

  Sael smiles back pleasantly. “No offence taken, Gunther, but you are totally going to hell.”

  There’s a beat before the table realizes that yes, the American is joking, and then they laugh.

  It’s William who says, “Well, after all, that pilot was Russian, so I guess they’ve been getting to everyone.”

  Everyone is silent after that, thinking about the pilot who flew a plane full of passengers into a mountain.

  The photographs of his apartment had been chilling. The walls plastered with copies o
f the Heaven’s True manifesto, and the numbers 22:12 painted over and over on this makeshift wallpaper.

  It was a verse from the Book of Revelation: “Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done.” The Heaven’s True movement proclaimed him a hero. The media had gone berserk.

  “So, Ben, what happened with the hot evangelist?” Katherine asks, trying to get the conversation back to a safer place.

  Matthew looks at her gratefully.

  “I said, ‘Well, I’ll tell my husband about it.’” Ben turns to Anna. “Sorry, my love, but I thought that would give her a jolt at least.”

  “Vat did she do?” Gunther leans forward.

  “She didn’t even blink, that was the thing. She just said, ‘Yes, you should bring him along.’”

  “Ugh, you’d think at least that would deter them.” This is from Jane.

  “Yes, but these zealots are particularly nasty. Imagine some handsome man flirting with you, trying to get his paws on your soul.”

  “Unlike me, who just wants you for your sexy body,” Anna retorts.

  Ben’s mind, however, is already somewhere else. “When did they start gaining prominence again?”

  Sael glances at Katherine. He knows just as well as she does where this is going.

  But it’s William, who seems to be the elected foot-in-mouth man of the night, who once again answers. “It was during that whole thing in the States with that serial killer, wasn’t it—what was his name?” A look of surprise and pain crosses his face. “Ow!”

  Katherine has to suppress a laugh. Jane has clearly kicked him on the ankle.

  She guesses he didn’t recognize her, or maybe he really doesn’t remember that she was involved. Which is a gift. It’s nice not to be known, or to have people determinedly pretend not to know you.

  “It’s all right,” she says to Jane, then turns to William. “You’re right. They started gaining prominence during the summer of the Sickle Man, particularly in Manhattan.”

  There’s another weighted pause now while everyone desperately searches for another topic of conversation. William still looks a little confused. Katherine feels bad for him. She hopes that he’ll only learn the full story later, after she and Sael are gone.

  John comes to the rescue. “Anna, how’s your book coming along? Or is that a truly terrible question to ask?”

  “The book isn’t and the question is, you bastard.”

  But Katherine can see she doesn’t mind being asked, and the table collectively remembers to breathe. They have been saved.

  “Anna is working on her third book,” John informs them.

  “Wow.” Sael is genuinely impressed.

  “Don’t be fooled, it’s hideously academic.”

  “What’s your field?” Katherine is curious.

  “Celtic mythology.” She says this as easily as someone might say, I like to bake cookies.

  “Cool!” Katherine says, then blushes as Anna turns to her. “I’m sorry, that sounded lame, but I mean, I really do think it’s cool.”

  “Our Katherine is becoming quite the history buff lately!” Matthew adds.

  Anna looks gratified. “It is actually cool. I get to write about various gods, but translating Gaulish is a bit of a blow.”

  “You could almost say it’s a bit ‘Gauling’! Whaa, whaa, whaa.”

  They can tell that Ben has made this joke before, and it earns him an eye roll from his wife before she continues.

  “Anyway, you have no right to ask me such questions, John, when a little fairy told me that you too have a book in the works.”

  “Where is that little fairy? I’m going to kill him!”

  Matthew sticks his head around the doorway and grins impishly. “He’s here, and don’t you dare!”

  “That’s marvelous, John!” Jane is endearingly enthusiastic.

  “We’ll see, it’s early days still.”

  “I’ve always loved your translations.” Anna seems thrilled.

  “Well, you won’t believe this one! It’s is based on some newly discovered material by a medieval English priest, written in”—John pauses for dramatic effect—“vernacular English!”

  His effect is not lost on Anna, who gives a little gasp of excitement. Katherine thinks she sees Ben roll his eyes.

  “John calls him the dark priest,” Matthew announces.

  John frowns at him.

  “Oh, sorry, darling, was that a secret?”

  “The dark priest! Sounds intriguing.” William is eager to make amends for his earlier gaffes.

  “Really, I only say ‘dark’ as in unknown, unrevealed.”

  Williams shakes his head vigorously. “Rubbish! It draws up lovely images of evil and the occult.”

  John grins. “That too.”

  “Sellout.” Matthew reaches over to touch John’s cheek.

  Their love is so clear and so strong that it makes Katherine’s throat hurt. She glances at Sael, but he’s again staring at the screen of his phone.

  Matthew turns to her. “But I’m cross with you! Why didn’t you bring the delicious Lucas? Most darling little boy.”

  Anna is stunned “That’s an amazing thing for Matthew to say. He hates children.”

  “I do not! I adore little children, and John and I would fill the house with them if only I wasn’t allergic to all except Lucas.” He realizes what he’s just said and turns to Jane. “And obviously, all your brood.”

  “Of course,” she says wryly.

  Now it’s Sael who saves the conversation. “Katherine was all set to bring him, but our housekeeper said she’d look after him.”

  “Your housekeeper?” Katherine wonders if there’s a hint of judgment in Jane’s voice.

  “Mrs. B. Very formidable, but with a real soft spot for Lucas.”

  “And it would have been no fun for him to fall asleep here, and then have to wake up and take a train ride late at night,” Katherine adds, but she’s thinking about the possessive way Mrs. B looks at him, the almost proprietary way she held his hand as she and Sael had left.

  After the zabaglione, they all retire to the drawing room, spreading out on the vintage leather chairs or curling up on the cushy couches with their tasseled pillows.

  Katherine sips her coffee and lets her eyes wander around the room, admiring the glossy black piano in one corner and the large six-paneled Chinese coromandel screen of a white cherry tree in full bloom against a golden background. The wallpaper is a textured red, and heavy green silk curtains flank the windows. Within the grandeur of the room Matthew’s quirky humor is still apparent.

  Katherine grins when she sees a Royal Doulton shepherdess jostling for prominence with a small plastic T-Rex on the mantel above the marble fireplace.

  She is content to lounge back, catching drifts of others’ conversations.

  “It’s been ages.” Anna leans forward to John.

  “Too long,” he agrees.

  “But you were quite ill. That ongoing flu really walloped you, I hear.”

  “My flu . . .” John looks thoughtful. “Yes, it did.” He grins. “But I’m better now.”

  “You look better. I have to say, you look far better than I’ve seen you look for ages.” Anna is earnest, only half joking.

  He laughs. “Did I look that bad?”

  “No, but now you’re practically glowing with health!”

  Katherine thinks about the day she first saw John, and how thin she’d thought he was. She agrees with Anna. He does seem to glow.

  “In fact I even mentioned to Matthew the potential of doing some sort of exercise in the morning.”

  Anna gasps theatrically. “And what did he say?”

  “He threatened divorce or murder.”

  “I can’t say I blame him.”

  “John!” Matthew, who has been talking to Gunther, leans over. “Have you shown Anna what I got you for your birthday?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

&nbs
p; “Why not? What’s the use of getting you expensive presents if you refuse to show off?”

  “I thought it was for my pleasure?”

  “Well, obviously not.”

  John turns to Anna. “Actually he’s right. It’s just up your street. And Katherine’s too. She loves old things.”

  “Oh no, I don’t want to intrude.” She would rather stay in this lovely room, propped up by pillows, indulging in eavesdropping.

  “Nonsense! I want to hear her American ‘ooh’ of awe.” Matthew is firm.

  “Let’s all go and see it,” Ben suggests restlessly. Can’t be left out for a moment, can you, Katherine thinks with some irritation.

  Together they troop out into the hall and up the staircase to John’s study, which is considerably neater tonight. He takes the lead, but stops at one of the desks and indicates they should cluster around a brown leather case.

  “Very dramatic.”

  “Please tell me it’s a cursed mummy’s paw!” William sounds half hopeful.

  “That’s monkey’s paw.” Jane sighs.

  “A something’s paw which glows when treasure is near, or helps you curse your enemies!” William waves his hand at her, dismissing semantics.

  “You’re all close.” John slowly opens the box. His expression is both sardonic and proud.

  They peer in at a knife with a reddish patina.

  I don’t like it, Katherine thinks.

  “Oh my God.” Anna sighs with longing.

  “Iron,” John says, as if answering her question before she asked it.

  “May I?” Anna is already reaching out.

  He nods, and she bends over it in rapture.

  “Oooh,” she coos, as if it were an exquisite jewel. “Just look at that triskele.”

  “The what?” Ben eyes his wife with exasperated affection.

  “That triple spiral.” She indicates the three interwoven circles carved into the iron, spanning the hilt. “Oh, John, it’s gorgeous!”

  “What does that mean?”

  Anna launches into full academic mode. “A triskele is a symbol depicted in many ancient cultures, from coins to Greek warriors’ armor, but of course because it was found carved on a passage tomb at Newgrange, most people associate it with the Celts.