At the House of the Magician

by Mary Hooper

  On entering the room, however, my attention was suddenly caught by the large stone fireplace in the centre of the facing wall. This, as far as I knew, was never used, for it had been superseded by two smaller fireplaces, one at each end of the room, these being thought to warm the room more efficiently.

  Why did it suddenly come to my attention? I wondered this after, thinking it might have been the noble sculpted columns to each side or the pretty carvings in the limestone, but then perhaps it was neither, but just the spirit of inquisitiveness which has dogged me all my life.

  As I stood admiring it, something made me wonder if I could stand within the fireplace and glimpse the sky above. I took a step forwards, then looked around one of the marble columns into darkness and sensed, rather than saw, a large space there.

  I took another step, to the right this time, and found myself in a small cramped area like a box room or tomb made of stone; a space in which anyone might be completely hidden from anyone else in the library. Here – there was just light enough to see these things – were some traces of habitation: a stool, several grimy candles with flints to light them by, also a plate, knife and small earthenware pitcher which seemed, from the sour smell, to have once held milk. And everything I touched had the dust of years upon it.

  I sat down on the stool in the almost-darkness, smiling a little to myself, for I knew the girls would never find me here. After a moment, though, I wondered if it might be better to keep this secret to myself. My reasoning went thus: when I’d been living at home I’d oft wished for a way to conceal myself from my father, and perhaps at this house, too, such a private space might come in useful. Also – were I ever to be so bold – by hiding here in the fireplace I might discover what went on between Dr Dee and Mr Kelly when the door was locked.

  Coming out and brushing myself down, I went to my original hiding place behind the tapestry and happily managed to stay hidden from the girls for fifteen minutes or so. Our game swiftly came to a conclusion, however, when the small party returned from the wet nurse, together with little Arthur, for Mistress Dee had been unable to bring herself to part with him. They climbed down from the carriage, rubbing their bones and bitterly complaining about the jolting they’d taken on the journey, and the mistress, looking fearful pale, was helped straight to bed by Mistress Allen.

  ‘Mama is being silly,’ Beth said as supper was prepared. ‘Papa said so.’

  ‘Did you and I both go to wet nurses?’ Merryl asked her.

  Beth nodded. ‘Of course. And when you and I have children, they’ll go, too.’

  ‘Mine won’t!’ Merryl said, suddenly snatching Tom-fool from Beth. ‘I’ll keep mine with me.’ And she ran off with the monkey chittering with fright at being taken so abruptly, while Beth ran after to retrieve him.

  Mistress Midge set me chopping bones for a broth and, being in a good mood (for the neighbour had bought a bottle of claret with her and this was now standing empty beside the water trough), began telling me more tales of her early life when she’d worked for Mistress Dee’s family, and how she’d come here to Mortlake with her mistress when she’d married Dr Dee ten years ago. She said that Mistress Dee was thirty years younger than her husband and was his third wife.

  ‘And she is said to have married well by being matched with him,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think so, for she’s still young and pretty and he’s just an old husk of a man that even I couldn’t abide near me.’

  ‘And how did his first two wives die?’ I asked.

  ‘In childbed,’ came the reply, which I might have guessed and answered for myself.

  ‘But my poor lady hasn’t won herself any great marriage, for this house is a warren of poor rooms and – my, to think Her Grace herself comes here! – ’tis most incommodious, for ’tis full of rats from the river and unwholesome draughts. The old dowager – the master’s mother – I swear died of an ague she got from breathing in the foul airs rising from the water.’

  ‘What was old Mistress Dee like?’ I asked.

  ‘A harridan. She posted rules in the kitchen that I had to abide to, if you please. Told me how I should scour my pans and keep my kitchen neat! And she was of the old religion, too, and – though this was before my time – set up an altar and took Mass in the library even after our queen came to power.’

  I looked at her in wonderment.

  ‘Aye, she did,’ Mistress Midge confirmed. ‘And it’s said that somewhere in the house is a priest’s hidey-hole, so that he might be hidden away quickly if someone suspected that an illegal Mass was taking place.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. So that was what my secret place had been: a priest’s hideaway. And it didn’t seem as if anyone knew it was there …

  Chapter Eight

  A few days later Mistress Midge gave me a sixpence (which I think was her own) and bade me go to the market to buy greenstuffs. Once, she told me, herbs and salads enough for the household’s needs had grown in the courtyard, but this had been neglected of late and little grew there now but tangles of ryegrass and nettles.

  Merryl and I went together, leaving Beth at home to help Mistress Midge prepare a salve for little Arthur. His bottom and back were covered all over with a rash, they said, and he’d cried all night, which made me exceeding glad I slept far away from him. On the way there Merryl told me that her papa had cast a chart for Arthur so that he could ascertain what his future was going to be according to the positions of the stars in the heavens at the moment he was born.

  ‘Papa knows many things from looking at the stars,’ she said. ‘Did you know that it was he who decided when the day of the queen’s coronation should be?’

  I confessed I hadn’t known this.

  ‘And according to what Papa found out from the various configurations of heavenly bodies –’ she spoke with very learned words, like no other child I had ever known – ‘Arthur will become a scryer and be able to converse with spirits, so soon Papa won’t need Mr Kelly to do this.’

  I nodded, thinking that Mistress Midge would be pleased to see the back of Mr Kelly, but also that it would surely be many more years before Arthur was ready to take up his responsibilities.

  The market was held in a small square outside an ancient building which had once been the convent, when we’d had such things. It mostly consisted of farmers and goodwives selling their wares from planks raised up on logs or from wicker baskets, and was very busy and clamorous as they were all shouting the various merits of their wares at once. I bought what we needed: a rope of garlic, bunches of chives, sage and thyme, and then found a second-hand clothes stall where, with threepence of my own, I bought a white undersmock which tied at the neck with a lace band and could be worn under my two new gowns to liven them. I spent two more pence on cloth slippers, which I sorely needed, and then, moving to the next pitch, found myself by a basket containing lavender wands. Here I was immediately transported back to my home; to sitting making my wands at the rickety table with Ma embroidering her gloves and the smell of lavender in the air all around us. Suddenly I missed her very much and my eyes filled with tears. I hoped she was well, and not unhappy without me …

  Blinking these tears away, I picked up one of the wands to ask the price, and in doing so my eyes fell for the first time on the girl who was selling them, who was about my age but a little thinner and a little taller. The bodice she was wearing was of pale pink linen, rather faded, and it had a small darn on the shoulder. The skirt was full and of a brighter hue than the bodice, for it had not been washed so often, and under these things she wore a draw-neck smock with a line of cheap lace about the throat. I stared at her with rising indignation, for the reason I knew these clothes so intimately, was acquainted with each crease and darn, was because they were my own!

  I gave a scream. ‘My clothes!’ I said. ‘You are wearing my skirt and bodice, Miss! And my undersmock.’ I looked past her to her lavender wands, and noticed that the basket which held them was also mine. ‘You have my basket, too – and my comb
and stockings, no doubt!’

  The girl paled and looked at me in fright.

  ‘You thief! How dare you wear them so brazenly!’

  Merryl, who had been wandering about the stalls, came back and surveyed us, wide-eyed. ‘Are those your clothes, Lucy?’ she asked. ‘The ones you lost at the river?’

  ‘Yes, they are,’ I said, most indignant.

  A small crowd had gathered about us, seemingly glad of the interruption to their daily routine.

  ‘Shall I fetch a constable?’ one asked eagerly.

  ‘Certainly, and at once,’ I answered, ‘for this girl is wearing my clothes and must be a thief.’

  The girl burst out weeping. ‘I didn’t steal them! Please don’t report me …’

  ‘We’ll let the law be the judge of that, Miss,’ I said, speaking very high and mighty. ‘I left this very basket containing, amongst other things, my skirt and bodice – the ones you’re wearing now – on the riverbank, and someone stole it. Are you saying you’re not the thief?’

  ‘It wasn’t me, I swear it!’ she cried. ‘Please don’t call a constable, or I’ll be put in jail.’

  ‘But how did you come by what you’re wearing?’ someone in the crowd asked.

  ‘Did the faery folk bring them to you?’ asked another, drawing some laughter.

  ‘My … someone in my family found them. They were in a basket and there was no one around and they didn’t know what to do with them.’

  ‘But you must have known they belonged to someone,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you take them to the constable?’

  ‘It seemed like – like a gift from heaven,’ answered the girl. Her eyes suddenly fell on Merryl and she gasped. ‘Is that the magician’s child?’ she asked.

  I nodded. ‘She is the child of Dr Dee, my employer. I left the basket of clothes near to his house on the riverbank at Mortlake, as well you know.’

  But the girl had turned ashen-faced. ‘Please! Don’t let him enchant me. I’ll give everything back to you. Take this now!’ She pushed the basket still containing the lavender wands into my hand. ‘Come with me and I’ll give you everything that was yours. Only don’t let a horrid spell be put upon me and my family.’

  I stared at her in surprise. ‘But I would not …’

  She burst into fresh sobs and I became confused, which changed to a sudden pity for her so that I immediately forgave her. ‘Stop weeping,’ I said. ‘Look, I’ll come to your home with you and you can give me what is mine and let that be the end to it.’

  ‘Truly?’ She clutched my sleeve. ‘And you won’t tell the magician?’

  ‘I won’t tell anyone,’ I said, thinking that she probably had little to be afeared of, for the magician’s skills were such that he’d reported my clothes to be on a market stall in London when they’d been but a half-mile away from the house.

  We waved off the disappointed spectators and Merryl and I went with the girl to her home – a small, rough-built cottage a short way off in a hamlet named Barn Elms – and waited outside while she changed out of my clothes. It appeared to be but a poor dwelling, for I looked through the shutters and there was little in there in the way of furniture and not even a proper chimney, only a hole in the centre of the room to let the smoke out. The girl climbed a ladder to the loft and when she reappeared she was wearing an almost-threadbare skirt and jacket. She handed me the basket containing my other things, and all the time making so many humble apologies that I had to ask her to stop. We began to walk back towards the market together, for she still had six or so lavender wands to sell, which she now carried in a loose shawl hung over her shoulder.

  ‘I made wands when I lived at home, too,’ I said. ‘’Tis a nice occupation, but one that doesn’t last for long in the year.’

  ‘What do you do now?’ she asked shyly.

  ‘I’m nursemaid for the children of Dr Dee,’ I said, and noticed the way her eyes looked at me fearfully when I said his name. I lowered my voice, although Merryl was some distance off, skipping along with Mistress Midge’s basket. ‘And so far I’ve had no reason to fear him.’

  ‘Then forgive me speaking thus, but it’s said that he’s a necromancer – one who can raise the dead. And a woman around here swears that he enchanted her cow so that it gave poisoned milk.’

  I shook my head. ‘I can’t ever think he did such a thing, for he’s the queen’s magician and surely has more important things to do than meddle with cows and poison their milk. It’s said that magicians change metal into gold, but there’s precious little evidence of that, either, for there is never any money to be had in the household.’

  ‘My mother said that she had heard he speaks with … speaks with …’ she seemed to find difficulty in saying the next words, and tried several times before managing, ‘. … the Devil.’

  ‘’Tis not true,’ I said stoutly, though a shiver of horror ran down my spine, and I prayed that I wasn’t employed in a house so corrupt.

  The girl and I exchanged names, and hers was Isabelle, which I thought very pretty, and we began to speak of lots of different things, for her life had not been so very different to mine – although she still lived at home and was the oldest of six brothers and sisters, while I was the youngest of mine. At each pause in our conversation, however, she’d thank me again for not giving her over to the Watch, until at the end I had to become stern and say that she was not to mention it ever again or I would certainly take her straight round to the jail myself, and we both laughed at this and became friends.

  On crossing the common land we were about to part and go our separate ways when a band of youths raced past us, all wearing the blue cloaks and plain flat caps of apprentices. They shouted and whooped as they ran, and some other folk stopped them to ask what they were doing, and then ran with them.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked. ‘A fire?’

  Isabelle shook her head. ‘’Tis the queen coming from Whitehall in her barge. The ’prentices have run from upriver and cut across the land in order to see her again.’

  I immediately grew excited. ‘Is the river far from here?’

  She shook her head, pointing. ‘Just across the common.’

  I called quickly to Merryl, asking her if she wanted to see the queen.

  ‘I’ve oft seen her before,’ she said, running up to me, but then must have seen the eagerness in my face. ‘But I’ll see her again if you wish.’

  Isabelle had begun running across the common, taking a path over a stream and under the big oak trees. ‘Make haste!’ she called back to me, and I picked up my skirts and ran after her as fast as I could, crunching on the acorns that had fallen and dodging around the pigs that were feeding there.

  We ran pell-mell towards the river and arrived in time to hear shots being fired, people blowing trumpets and sounding other musical instruments or clanging pan lids together and whistling. There were shouts of ‘God save Her Grace!’ and ‘Long live the queen!’ and, caught up in the excitement of it all, we too began shouting and cheering before we hardly knew what we were making such noise about.

  We were only just in time to see the spectacle, for as we reached the bank of the river the queen’s barge glided by, pulled by a strong rowing boat with eight pairs of oars. The barge was a beautiful thing, ornamented with paintings and gilding, having a cabin at the front with glass windows and a canopy of shimmering silk over. Seated before the cabin, raised on a golden throne, sat the woman I had long dreamed of seeing: Her Grace, Queen Elizabeth of England, waving to each side of the river by turn (for on the opposite bank, at Chiswyck, a like crowd had assembled), acknowledging with smiles and nods the tributes and acclaim of her citizens. Behind her came a flotilla of rowing boats filled with folk waving, cheering or banging drums; everyone there seeming to be filled with joy at being part of Her Majesty’s progress.

  As her barge passed, the bells of the church rang out, pealing again and again until this refrain was taken up by the next church further downriver – which was, I knew, St Mary’
s at Mortlake, next to the magician’s house.

  We cheered until she was out of sight, until we were almost hoarse, then Isabelle turned to me, smiling. ‘She’s back from a progress and will be going to Richmond Palace. They say it’s her favourite.’

  ‘Sometimes she calls on Papa on the way,’ put in Merryl in a matter-of-fact way. ‘If she’s got time.’

  ‘Truly?’ I gasped.

  She nodded. ‘Sometimes she comes because she wants to find the best day to do something or to know if someone’s love for her is genuine, and sometimes she has an ague and wants to know if it is like to turn worse.’

  Isabelle looked at Merryl. ‘Does she really come to your home?’

  Merryl nodded.

  ‘’Tis true,’ I said. ‘They have told me so before.’ I took Merryl’s hand. ‘We must go home with all haste!’

  I bade goodbye to Isabelle, saying I’d certainly look for her in the market again. Merryl and I then hurried home, for if the queen was going to come a-calling, I had a mind to be there.

  Chapter Nine

  It was some few days later, however, that the queen called on Dr Dee, and I still wonder at the bravery (some might call it foolishness) which led me to do what I did. I was so very curious about her, though, so longed to see at close hand the magnificent and beloved person I’d heard so much about, that I scarce thought of the wisdom of what I was doing.

  The first we heard of her coming to visit was a pounding on the door – the front door, that was – quite early one morning, and Mistress Midge being very put out that whoever was knocking didn’t come around to the back like everyone else. ‘Lord above! We don’t have menservants or footmen, so it’s left to the likes of you and me to attend the door,’ she huffed. ‘And I don’t know how I can be expected to do it along with everything else, indeed I don’t!’