At the House of the Magician

by Mary Hooper

  ‘Oh my Lord and Master!’ said the woman. ‘What is it but three creatures from the swamp?’

  Merryl – who had stopped weeping some moments before – now began to giggle. ‘No, it’s just us,’ she said. ‘Me and Beth.’

  ‘We were playing on the riverside…’

  ‘And then I got stuck in the mud and couldn’t get out and nearly drowned!’

  ‘And our friend rescued us,’ Beth finished.

  Mistress Midge pulled out a stool from the ashes in the fireplace and sank on to it. She was a tall woman with a dishevelled look about her, grubby of dress and red of face – and stout, of course, for I’ve never seen a cook who wasn’t as hearty as a hog. Her apron was stained, her cap ribbands frayed at the ends and her hair, grey and wiry, hung around her face. Her appearance well suited the state of the kitchen. ‘My Lord, my Lord,’ she said, wringing her hands as she looked the children up and down. ‘However am I going to get you clean?’

  ‘We must go in the tub and be washed!’ Merryl said joyfully. ‘Set the water on the fire now!’

  ‘But the tub has a hole in it,’ said Beth.

  Mistress Midge frowned. ‘You must be washed in the big wine cooler, then,’ she said, ‘for you’ll never get clean otherwise.’

  ‘What about our friend,’ Beth said. ‘Must she go in the wine cooler too?’

  The cook looked me up and down and tutted. ‘I cannot see to her bathing as well as your own.’

  I felt very indignant at hearing this, for I’d been waiting all this time to be noticed and even, perhaps, graciously thanked for rescuing the children. ‘Excuse me,’ I said. ‘I know I present a shocking muddy aspect at the moment, but I’m in this state because I went into the river to rescue Merryl.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Mistress Midge, pressing her lips together.

  My indignation rose. ‘Would you rather I had left her to drown? They were playing all alone down there with no one to mind them, and if I hadn’t been walking past they would have come to grief.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Beth, and then she made a leap to scoop up the monkey, causing several trenchers and a copper bowl to fall to the floor. The monkey ran off, chattering, leaped on to the topmost board above the fireplace and threw down a ladle, which only just missed Mistress Midge’s head.

  ‘Lord, Lord above,’ she said. ‘That damned animal!’

  Ignoring the monkey, I made an effort to brush at my arms, which were caked with mud, lamenting the state of my apple-green skirts as I did so. ‘I was perfectly respectable when I set out this morning,’ I said in as haughty a voice as I could manage, ‘but now I am all in disarray. I thought I might at least be due some thanks for saving…’ I stopped of a sudden and gave a gasp, for I’d only just remembered that, intent on rescuing Merryl, I’d dropped my basket and hadn’t thought to pick it up again.

  Remembering this I straightaway ran out of the kitchen, down the long passageway and on to the river path, but it wasn’t to be seen.

  I burst into tears, unable to believe my stupidity in not keeping it within my sight. Sure enough, I had my money safe in my pocket, but what was now my only clothing was covered with mud and not fit to be seen. I had no shoes to speak of, and no smock, shawl nor even a kerchief to my name.

  Mistress Midge, holding a candle, appeared at the back door. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘My basket’s gone!’ I said. ‘And my second-best skirt and bodice and some other possessions dear to me. I left them on the river path…’

  ‘Oh my Lord,’ said the cook, and she came outside, lifting her candle so that it illuminated a little of the pathway ahead of us. ‘Some villainous puttock has made away with it,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘and will no doubt be presenting his sweetheart with a fine basket of stuffs this evening.’

  I fought to hold back my tears. I’d only left home a few hours ago and already I’d lost the few things of any value that I’d ever owned. It did not bode well for my new life in London.

  ‘Come back into the kitchen, dearie,’ said Mistress Midge, her voice softening. ‘I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you. Indeed, I should have thanked you kindly for saving Merryl, but I’ve been that mithered these past days that I’ve hardly known my own name.’

  I sighed and tried to look sympathetic, although could not help thinking that my own problems were more pressing.

  ‘It’s the mistress, you see,’ she went on. ‘What with her being so long in labour and calling for a little bit of tender meat and a nourishing caudle at every moment, what with the gathering of green rushes to strew the lying-in room, the midwives to prepare hot drinks for and the visitors calling to drink the health of the new arrival, I fair forgot my manners.’

  I nodded and, having no kerchief to my name, dabbed at my nose with the only piece of my sleeve which was not muddy.

  ‘The housekeeper left after a row with the master, and to cap it all, Jane the nursery maid disappeared with the footman,’ Mistress Midge continued as we went back into the kitchen. ‘I should have known; I kept coming across them whispering in corners and looking coy at each other, but could scarce believe it would come to that.’

  ‘So the children have no nursemaid to mind them?’ I asked, and it was then, I believe, that I began to think that there might be a place for me in this house.

  She shook her head. ‘It’s always the way. Servants won’t stay here, you see.’

  I was about to ask why this was, when Beth, having poked at the fire, touched the grid of the hot coal basket and screamed. The monkey screamed too and Mistress Midge gave a cry of exasperation. ‘You see,’ she said, ‘’tis all harum-scarum mad… ’tis too much for a body.’

  ‘Then why do you stay?’

  ‘These babes,’ she said, indicating the children. ‘If I left, who would mind them? Besides, I’ve looked out for their mother since she was born – I couldn’t abandon her. And where else might I be taken on at my age? I’m too old to prink myself up for a hiring fair.’

  I wanted to know more about the household, but a plan had begun to form in my head. ‘Shall I put some water on to heat?’ I asked. ‘And then, perhaps, I could stay and help you get the children clean.’

  ‘You’ll not get anything out of it!’ she said straightaway. ‘For this house isn’t as rich as it was, and Master is as mean as the Devil when it comes to the laying out of money.’

  ‘That’s no matter.’

  ‘And don’t think that you can steal away with a couple of silver porringers under your gown, for Master has a big dog which will chase you down and –’

  ‘Father does not have a big dog,’ Beth corrected her.

  ‘Hush, child!’ said Mistress Midge.

  ‘Or any dog at all,’ put in Merryl. ‘For Mother says they are nasty, smelly creatures.’

  I hid a smile, hoping very much that I could stay there for the night at least, for I was fair exhausted and felt I hardly had the strength to go on further. ‘I can assure you that I won’t steal your possessions,’ I said, and added mildly, ‘even though it was through helping you that I lost my own.’

  ‘Well, now…’

  ‘But if I help you bathe the children, then maybe I can wash myself when they’ve finished with the water – and endeavour to clean my gown at the same time.’

  ‘Oh, do let her,’ Beth said. She appealed to her little sister, saying, ‘We want her to stay, don’t we?’ But Merryl’s eyelids had dropped and her head had slumped forward.

  Mistress Midge shrugged and her lips twitched as, talking crossly to herself, she considered what to do. After a moment she reached up to take a cauldron from above the fire. ‘You’d better take this, then – ’tis the largest,’ she said to me, half-cross, half-resigned to the matter. ‘There’s a well in the courtyard; you can fill it there.’ She raddled at the dying fire with a poker. ‘I’ll get the big wine cooler, and some logs from the shed to get the fire going… maybe between us we can get the children clean enough to say goodnight to t
heir mother.’

  ‘Is she in good health after her confinement?’ I asked. ‘

  Aye, she’s come through the ordeal well enough – but ’twould set the poor creature back a seven-night to see the girls in the state they’re in now.’

  I took the cauldron from her. ‘Perhaps, after the children are clean, I could sleep here in the kitchen. Just for one night!’ I quickly assured her. ‘’Twill be too late to go elsewhere by then and I could sleep on a stool here by the fire. No one would find out.’

  ‘Lord, oh Lord,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know. If Master discovered that I was putting up strangers and strays…’

  ‘I’ll be off straight in the morning before anyone sees me,’ I said, and thinking it wisest not to hang around while she deliberated, I carried the cauldron to the door and asked where the courtyard was.

  ‘Across the passage, through the green door on the left and along the corridor,’ came the reply. ‘You’ll come upon it through the gate at the end. But wait!’ she said as I reached the door. ‘Go on your way swiftly, disregard any strange sounds and don’t open any doors, for what goes on behind them does not concern servants. If the master should pass, mind you keep your head low.’

  I stared at her. ‘Who is the master here?’

  She pursed her lips again as if she was not going to reveal this, then, after a moment, seemed to relent. ‘I will tell you that, for where’s the harm? ’Tis Dr John Dee.’

  I looked at her curiously. ‘I think I’ve heard that name.’

  ‘Aye, you may have,’ she nodded. ‘He’s a learned man who works for our good queen.’

  ‘Works for our queen…’ I repeated, awestruck. ‘What does he do?’

  She hesitated again. ‘He’s the queen’s magician,’ she said quite briskly. ‘Now fetch the water and be quick about it.’

  Chapter Four

  ‘I may stay, then?’ I asked Mistress Midge. ‘I may stay just for tonight?’

  ‘You’ve settled yourself into that space by the fire, so it looks as if you already are,’ she said tartly. ‘Besides, I could hardly turn you out of here naked as Eve, could I?’

  I hugged a blanket around me. It was old, scratchy and like to be rich with fleas, but it would keep me from catching chill while my clothes dried on the line above the fire.

  Mistress Midge and I had bathed the children and made them ready for bed, then she’d taken them upstairs in the house to say goodnight to their mother. While they were gone I’d washed my legs and arms as best I could in the tepid water, which was now a pale and sluggish brown, then sponged down the bodice and skirt I’d been wearing. When Mistress Midge came back we’d lugged the heavy wine cooler out to the river’s edge, where we’d upturned it, then she’d poured me a small glass of beer, cut some chunks from a loaf of bread and we’d sat in front of the fire while she’d told me of some of her life and – when I was given time to speak – I’d told her mine. It was not, of course, as though I had much to tell, for, apart from going upriver to Richmond with my brother, I’d never been out of the parish where I was born. I had no sweetheart to boast about, had scarce any schooling and had taken no other work but glove-making and bird-scaring. How dull and country-mouse-like my story had sounded in the telling, especially compared to that of Mistress Midge’s in the magician’s house.

  The dwelling in which we sat, she told me, was ancient and considerably larger than it appeared, consisting of about twenty rooms (she could not say how many exactly, as many were not used), and sprawled between the parish church and the river. In all this house, however, there were now but three staff: Mistress Dee’s lady’s maid, who thought herself very grand and hardly lowered herself to appear in the kitchens, a manservant, who lived out and attended on Dr Dee on occasions and Mistress Midge herself.

  ‘At one time we also had a footman, a kitchen girl, a farrier to look after the horses, a nurserymaid, a pot boy and a dairymaid,’ she said, counting them off on her fingers. ‘But we’ve none of those now. I daresay the master’ll get more servants at a hiring fair, but the next of those is not until the spring.’ She sniffed. ‘He hasn’t the money to pay their wages, anyway.’

  I was ready to offer myself for work and board, wages or no wages, but was a little apprehensive about what might go on within these walls. What was it, exactly, that magicians did? Some, I’d heard, charted the stars in the sky in order to judge others’ fortunes, some concocted potions so they could live for ever, others conversed with spirits. Was it safe to be in the house of such a man?

  ‘You said that servants wouldn’t stay here because of the master,’ I began.

  She snorted with derision. ‘Aye. They would see something strange or hear unfamiliar noises in the night and they’d be off. No staying power, these milk-livered lads and simpering lassies. They’d take fright at a sheep’s baa.’

  ‘Then does Dr Dee conjure spirits?’ I asked in awe. ‘Does he make gold from metal?’

  ‘I don’t believe he can make gold,’ she said, spitting into the fire, ‘or we’d see a little more vittles and have a few more servants around the house. And as for spirits and angels – well, some say he do conjure them, and some say he don’t. What I say is, as long as he don’t conjure one up in my bedroom, then he can do whatever he likes.’

  I thought on her words and wondered what it would be like to work in such a household. I could manage the children well enough, and life here would certainly be more exciting than spending my days sewing gloves. In many ways, too, it would suit me well to stay here, twixt home and London, for Ma was not too far away and I might, on occasion, be able to go back and see her.

  ‘I’m very good with little ones,’ I said when Mistress Midge paused to take a breath from telling me of her trials and tribulations. ‘I’ve often looked after my sisters’ children.’

  ‘Indeed,’ she said, sopping bread into her beer and eating it with relish.

  ‘I’ve always been considered very responsible.’

  She nodded, mopping under her chin with a crust.

  ‘For I’ve already saved Merryl’s life!’ I went on, warming to this. ‘And I can work hard and diligently and do whatever I am bidden.’

  There was a long silence. ‘So you’d stay on, would you? And you’d not be scared by anything you might see?’

  I wondered what manner of thing this might be, but felt intrigued rather than frightened. ‘No, indeed I would not.’

  ‘Very well,’ she said then. ‘If you’re still here in the morning, I shall ask the mistress if you may be hired, for there’s certainly too much work for a tired old body like mine.’

  She found me a big old nightshirt of hers to wear, then went to her bed, leaving me alone in the kitchen. I’d promised her that I’d keep the fire alive and I got more logs from outside the door and, after dampening them so they’d burn more slowly, stacked up the grate. I then visited the privy in the courtyard (which was grandly appointed and must have dated from when the family had money, for it had a velvet seat and was studded all over with brass nails), pulled a stool close to the warmth of the fire and, resting my head against the chimney piece, tried to sleep. But of course I could not, for my head kept slipping down the wall. I missed my ma, too, and everything felt very strange and unfamiliar to me, for it was the first time I’d slept away from home.

  Sleeping upright proving impossible, I found two wooden benches and fashioned a bed for myself by laying them together, placing the blanket on top and wrapping it around me. In this way, despite the strangeness of my situation, I managed to sleep for a short while.

  I awoke suddenly some time later, though, and not remembering where I was, slid off the benches and on to the floor. I sat there quietly for a moment, wondering what it was that had woken me, then went to the kitchen door, opened it a fraction and heard, very faintly, a voice chanting as in a church and the light tinkling of some bells.

  I’d not heard a bellman so had no way of knowing the hour, only knew that it was
still dark, not yet dawn. Outside I could hear the river high up and close, lapping against the bank, so it must be high tide. Eight hours or so had gone by since I’d been down on the river bed with the children, so it was, perhaps, three o’clock in the morning.

  The noise which had woken me must have marked the end of the ceremony, for in another moment all noise had ceased and everything fell to silence. I found, however, that I was no longer sleepy but instead filled with a great curiosity about my present surroundings. What happened in this house? What magick was accomplished within these ancient walls?

  This curiosity, refusing to be quelled, fired up my senses so much that I knew I’d not sleep again. I therefore lit the scrap end of a candle in the fire and crept towards the kitchen door, for I had a mind to explore my surroundings.

  This curiosity is a failing of mine, for since I’ve been a very little girl I’ve got into trouble by asking too many questions or doing what I shouldn’t. I ate a black beetle once because I wanted to know how it tasted, and another time, much younger, I picked a red coal out of the fire because it was glowing so prettily and badly burned my hand. In spite of all these things, though, I’d always felt – and still do – that it’s best to know the worst, and that if I was going to stay at this house then I ought to know a little of what went on within it.

  Not that I wasn’t terribly afraid of what I might find, and as I walked through the house the hand which held the candle shook so much that light flickered and juddered across the walls, and my stomach felt as it did when Father came home late from the tavern and lurched about looking for someone he could give a leathering to.

  At the bottom of the corridor was the courtyard I’d been in earlier, and here I turned left and carried on further into the house, passing many more closed doors. Dusty tapestries lined the walls and portraits in ornate frames hung here and there. Lifting my candle in order to see their subjects better, I recognised our good Queen Elizabeth, and a portrait of her father, named Henry, who had six wives, and a line of other old people I took to be members of the family I now lodged with, for there was a strong similarity between the vivid blue eyes and pointed noses of these, and those of Beth and Merryl. The last of these portraits was a man looking to be about a hundred years old, with snowy white hair beneath a black skullcap. He had a long grey beard, which was forked at the ends, and he was wearing some sort of ceremonial robes, black and furred like a scholar’s. He was standing beside a table, on which rested a brass-banded chest, and a sign on the outer frame showed his name. Though I couldn’t read this, it was a short word and I recognised the letter D at the start, so was certain that it was my employer who was depicted. I stared at him, shivered, and walked on, and all the while the house was so deathly quiet about me that I began to think that I’d dreamed up the chanting and the tinkling of bells.