The Secret Diary of Thomas Snoop, Tudor Boy Spy

by Philip Ardagh

  Being a house of such magnitude, it will take me forever to learn the location of each room and the twist and turn of each corridor, but I do have a sense of the general layout. As is the latest style, it is in the form of a letter H78. The west wing (W) is the first line of the H, the central part of the house (C), which incorporates parts of a much older building, is the crossbar of the H, and the East Wing (E) the right-hand vertical.

  The original Goldenhilt Hall was obviously of timber-frame and wattle-and-daub construction79. At some stage, the additional wings had been added to the property in stone and, more recently still, much of it had been clad in brick, the very latest fashion80. At this stage, some very fine windows would also have been added81 and, even more recently, I suppose, the staircase. The craftsmanship of the staircase is truly remarkable. I am used to staircases of stone, or simple, almost ladderlike construction. The staircase here is a marvel of wooden design. The walls lining the staircase are a mixture of wooden panelling – matching the staircase’s boards, banister and newel posts82 – and of white plaster. (Who knew I could get so excited over a stretch of steps?)

  I have not much else to report. I am familiarising myself with the layout of the house while I can. Master Tundy expects much work of me, but seems fair.

  Speaking of which, today I caught sight of The Lady Anna de Grieff,83 the daughter of my host, the Earl of Drayshire, and she too seems fair, but in another way. (Her brother, Simon – the viscount – I am informed, is interested in horses above all else. He is usually out riding and I have yet to glimpse him.) The Lady Anna is a most pretty girl. She was wearing a dress as green as her eyes. And, just to be clear upon the matter, her eyes are very green, like a cat’s. (A cat with green eyes, that is. Ignore amber and blue-eyed cats.) I imagine that she must be not much older than myself. And I do imagine her. A great deal.

  When we spoke, she smiled shyly. “Oh, so you are Lord Snoop’s nephew,” she said. “I am most pleased you’re here to help old Rotundy!” For a moment, she looked aghast at having spoken aloud her nickname for the steward. Then she giggled. (Rotund means plump and, as I have stated previously, Master Tundy is indeed a little round about the middle!)

  “It is a rare opportunity to visit such a grand home,” I replied.

  We passed a few more pleasantries, then went our separate ways.

  77 The wife of an Earl is a countess, but is usually referred to as ‘Lady’ with the name of the Earldom after it – in this case, Drayshire.

  78 Another popular shape for the layout of Tudor houses was in the form of the letter E.

  79 Most Tudor homes weren’t built of brick or stone but were timberframed with the gaps between timbers filled by wattle and daub. Wattle is a woven lattice of strips of wood, and daub – with which the wattle is daubed/covered – is a thick layer made up of wet soil, clay, sand and even animal dung, often mixed with straw. This could dry to a smooth finish.

  80 Tudor bricks are smaller and thinner than today’s traditional housebrick and are of slightly pinker colour. They were handmade.

  81 Glass was expensive, so large widows were a way of showing off one’s wealth. One of the most famous large-windowed Tudor buildings is Hardwicke Hall.

  82 The wooden uprights supporting the bannister. Newel posts at the bottom of the stairs were usually the most ornately carved.

  83 As the daughter of an earl, Anna is given the honorary title of ‘The Lady Anna’, always with a capital ‘T’. Even in the middle of a sentence.

  The greatest marvel I have yet laid eyes on in Goldenhilt Hall, this house of wonder, is the long gallery. With it vaulted ceiling of deeply moulded plaster, and a floor that runs the whole length of the house, with a window front and back, I’ve never seen anything like it. The steward took me there this morning.

  “Pray, what is it for, Master Tundy?” I asked. “What is its purpose?”

  “It hath many purposes. It demonstrates that my lord and master, the earl, hath the wealth and power to build such a fine room. It demonstrates his excellent taste in the most modern of ideas. It took many months to build and I can account for every penny of it,84” said the steward.

  “It is a gallery for his lordship to display portraits of his most worthy ancestors.” He nodded at the oil painting upon the wall, which were of some of the most owl-like people I have ever seen: big-eyed and small-beaked. I mean, nosed. “And it is a place for the ladies and gentlemen to walk and talk. For them to discuss business or gossip when the weather is deemed too poor to venture into the gardens. It is a place of exercise.”

  I found myself glancing at the steward’s stomach. I rather suspect that he is not one for much exercise himself.85

  We had reached the large window – stretching from waist-height to ceiling – at one end of the gallery. In the middle, made from stained glass, was the de Grieff family crest, with the turnip on its shield, and supported on one side by an eagle and by a hare on the other. With a stone surround, this vast window is made up of a number of sections, the diamond panes of glass held together in a latticework of lead holding them in place. The lower sections of window are hinged and can be opened.

  Along with the basic layout of the house and garden, Lord Severn had supplied me with diagrams of a number of types of window. Why? Because different types of windows can be entered from the outside by different means: a latch lifted or the leading heated, when necessary, then bent back and the glass removed.

  It is Lord Severn’s belief that the more one knoweth about a subject, the better one is prepared to tackle it if and when the need arises. Especially if one is a boy and can fit through smaller gaps than a fully-grown spy!

  The three most important rooms to me at present are all in the middle section of the house:

  - the kitchens

  - the steward’s office

  - the Great Hall, with its fine wood panelling, tapestries and even grander windows; its roof, with its carved beams, so high that there are no rooms above it.

  The Great Hall is where the guests will congregate and be entertained. It is here that I shall eavesdrop on their conversations as best I can. Master Tundy’s office is important because it containeth the name of each and every guest and their servants, and a set of keys to every room with a locked door.

  As for the kitchens, this is where I hope to befriend as many servants as I can without suspicion. The cook himself is a man named Garble, who hath the rare distinction of having but one arm. One-armed men are not unknown to me, but he is the first one-armed cook I have yet encountered! Fortunately, he hath an army of lesser cooks and helpers to assist him in his work.

  He is more a shouter of orders than a dicer of vegetables! I say the word army advisedly for he runneth this huge kitchen like he’s still in the army, though I doubt he was ever very senior in the ranks.

  Despite his looking very like a hell-mouth painting86 and barking orders like an order-barker – I cannot think of a better example at present – he hath taken a shine to me and seems a nice enough fellow.

  “How d’ya like old Ro?” he asked.

  “I don’t think I’ve met him,” I replied.

  “Tundy!” said Garble, his terrifying-looking face breaking into a toothy grin. “Rotundy! That’s what we calls him. He must have a good pair of lungs, what with him shoutin’ out orders all day!”

  You’re one to talk, I thought. But said nothing.

  “The only time he ain’t bellowin’ is when he’s making sure he hath more than his fair share of my fill!” he said, laughing again and sticking his stomach forward in a reasonable impersonation of the steward.

  “More work, Garble, and less idle chatter,” said a voice behind me. Master Tundy had appeared out of the shadows. None of us had heard him enter. So much for my spying skills, being alert at all times.

  “You heard the man!” shouted Garble, as though his staff had been the ones receiving the telling off, when they’d been working away in silence. He picked up a carrot87 and bit the end o
ff with a loud

  as if to remind the steward that, in the kitchen at least, HE is in charge.

  Tundy turned to me. “Done here, Snoop?” he asked.

  “Yes, sire,” I nodded.

  On the way out, I bumped into a man I now know to be Scullion88 the spit boy.89 Remember Green, the man I met in the forest, clutching a dead wolf? The biggest man I had ever seen? The Wild Man of the Woods with the slate green eyes? The man I described as being the size of a small village and about as wide? The biggest human being I ever expected to see?

  Scullion is

  “Sorry,” I said, directly to his stomach, at my eye level.

  High above my head, Scullion grinned like an oaf.

  84 Keeping detailed household accounts was an important part of the steward’s job.

  85 Not that he would have been allowed to use the long gallery.

  86 Wall-painting in Christian churches often showed the entrance to hell and all the horrors it contained, as a way of reminding people what would happen if they sinned.

  87 Carrots weren’t orange until the seventeenth century, so it’s likely that the one Garble ate was a purple colour.

  88 Scullion was a fifteeth century term for a servant with the most menial kitchen tasks. So it can’t have been his actual name.

  89 A spit boy was, more often than not, a fully-grown man whose job it was to turn the huge spit – on which there might be pretty much a whole pig or bullock or deer – in front of an open fire for hours on end. This would have been an exhausting job even without the heat of the fire. With the heat, it must have been almost unbearable. The fat dripping from the cooking animal would have been caught in a trough beneath.

  I have been so busy with my duties, both for Master Tundy and for Lord Severn, that this is the first time I have had an opportunity to update this diary. Goldenhilt Hall is now filled with some of the most important and finely-dressed noblemen and women in the country. I cannot deny that I feel a certain thrill at being in their presence, but also feel that I am ready for the task ahead.

  Suddenly the house is filled with colour. The laws of apparel mean that I have become used to being surrounded by fellow servants dressed in blue or drab brown.90 And the hats. Some of these hats have to be seen to be believed. I know it is not my place, but some give the impression of a noble lord wearing a great squashy loaf of bread upon his head, a feather jauntily placed on top!

  Now that all the Lords and Ladies have their rooms, and have their retinues91 to attend to them, along with Goldenhilt’s servants, my daily tasks for Master Tundy have changed. And, though I have less opportunity to go here, there and everywhere, I have more opportunities to lose myself amongst the guests and to make myself useful in ways where I can eavesdrop.

  On my way to the servant stairs, I saw my friend Mark Tolland once more.

  “Is your master happy with the arrangements?” I asked, referring to Lord Mulberry.

  “He is never happy with anything,” said Mark, his voice low. “He claims the room too small and the bed too hard… when the room could stable all our horses and the bed would suit the fussiest princess! Lady Mulberry is more easily pleased but still highly strung.”

  “Any news of your friend, John Rider?” I asked. I had not forgot the account of the terrible football match!

  “He should be well enough to return to Mulberry Manor by the week’s end,” said Mark, “but he will not be back to full strength for weeks to come.”

  He was about to say more, but I was distracted by a flash of green. The Lady Anna was slipping out into the garden. She looked troubled. Her face was flushed and her skin looked clammy. Her hair was less than perfectly arranged.

  When the opportunity arose, I followed her into the night air with the stealth of a [door hinge].92

  Goldenhilt Hall hath a more formal garden immediately surrounding the house itself, outside which is a deer park which, as the name suggesteth, is a park for deer. Or, to be even more specific, a park in which the Earl of Drayshire and his friends may hunt deer, which must be an easy enough sport, there being so many of them. Deer, that is, not friends of the Earl of Drayshire, though there be plenty of them also.

  In the failing light, I could make out The Lady Anna heading for the maze. Mazes are the height of fashion, so there is little surprise that a house such as Goldenhilt would have one. I cannot imagine that the maze at Nonsuch is any finer!93

  As well as her unsettled appearance, there was something different in The Lady Anna’s manner of walking. Something out of character. This is just the kind of behaviour I have been trained to note and act upon, but I was unable to follow her as I might have done in most other circumstances. When she actually entered the maze, it would have been madness to follow her in. Not only might I have become completely and utterly lost, but she could have turned back upon herself and walked into me at any time, and there was no convincing way I could have explained the reason for my presence.

  Instead, I hid myself behind a conveniently situated shrub and, working alongside the similar principle that what goes up must come down, I satisfied myself in the knowledge that someone who enters a maze must come out again. I waited.

  The Lady Anna reappeared sooner than I had expected but her transformation was noticeable. Though the same on the outside, she bore herself with more dignity. Her look of panic and uncertainty had been replaced with a look of fixed determination. A grim determination. It was as if her whole inner-self had transformed.

  Whom had she met in there who made her behave so differently when departing, I wondered.

  A lover?

  A Spanish lover, perhaps?

  Perhaps she was unknowingly being lured into some Spanish plot by a Spanish lad pretending to like her?

  I decided not to follow The Lady Anna back to the house but to remain hidden behind the shrub and see who – if anyone else – left the maze.

  I did not have to wait long, but what I saw – who I saw – has chilled me to the core. I can make no sense of it.

  For the second person to leave the maze was also The Lady Anna!

  No, this is no error in my writing of the code. The person to leave the maze after The Lady Anna was…

  Had she somehow managed to re-enter the maze, unseen by me, by some different route? Surely that was not possible – and, anyhow, there would not have been enough time. And certainly not enough time for her to also change her clothing. This second Lady Anna was dressed differently to the first… but it was her without a doubt. She walked past my hiding place close enough for me to touch her. I would swear by Almighty God it was The Lady Anna… but how can this be?

  I was about to follow her when I was interrupted by the kitchen boy Peter. Standing behind me, the shrub offered me no protection, and he did not even ask what on Earth I might be doing, for it was not his place!94

  “Oh there you are, Master Snoop,” he said, picking his nose and looking upon me with a what-are-you-up-to smile. “Master Tundy hath been calling for you.”

  Under any other circumstances, I might have been concerned that the steward had noticed my absence, but my mind was still reeling from what I had seen of The Lady Anna with mine own eyes.

  It must be witchcraft.

  Master Tundy was waiting for me in his office. With all the guests now here, he bid me to move about the Hall ensuring that everything was running as best as could be hoped for. And to report back. He sought perfection.

  I cannot believe my luck! Lady Margaret P—(whose name rhymes with turtle95) had asked the same of me, to be her eyes and ears; and, thus, the eyes and ears of Lord Severn. And now, whether he knows it or not, the steward hath given me reason to be anywhere about Goldenhilt Hall without question! What spy could ask for more?

  90 The law of apparel (clothes) was also known as the sumptuary laws. There were strict rules about what someone in Tudor Britain could or could not wear based on their place in society. One could tell at a glance who was a labourer, merchant or gentleman, just
by the cut and colour of their clothes. Only royalty could wear purple. The very rich and powerful wore black, because truly black dyes were very expensive. Red denoted happiness. More important servants wore blue. There were harsh punishments for those who wore clothes above their entitlement/place in society. It was another way of exerting control. Like most Tudor laws, they were there to protect the rich and the powerful.

  91 A retinue is a group of advisers, assistants, or others accompanying an important person.

  92 I’m not sure door hinges are very stealthy. They certainly can’t tip-toe. I suspect this is another of Thomas’s coding errors but have NO IDEA what the actual word he intended might have been.

  93 Nonsuch was one of the finest royal palaces ever built in Britain. A village was destroyed to make room for its construction by Henry VIII. It wasn’t finished when he died in 1547. After his daughter Mary became Queen, she sold it to the Duke of Arundel in 1556 who then completed it. By the 1590s it was a royal palace again and remained so until King Charles II gave it to the Countess of Castlemaine in 1670. She had it pulled down in 1682 and sold it off, brick by brick to pay off a gambling debt. As well as being an amazing building, it is said to have had an amazing maze.

  94 ‘Not his place’ as in not in Peter’s place in the hierarchy of servants. His main job was to do as he was told!

  95 In medieval times, a number of bestiaries were produced. A bestiary was a highly illustrated book – a compendium of beasts – which listed names and descriptions of animals both real and imagined (but written as though all were real). This included the Aspidochelone, sometime described as a GIANT TURTLE so big that it was mistaken for an island! Such books remained popular in Tudor times, though knowledge of true natural history was growing.