Alchemy

by Maureen Duffy

  ‘So you wake at last Master Boston,’ she said as one who knew otherwise. ‘I have staunched your wound which is indeed only slight though it bled a deal. But I think your wrist is broke. Now I must go to my lady and tell her you will live. It was she sent me to make certain no one else should attend you.’

  ‘Who undressed me?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Is my lady angry with me?’

  ‘You have put her honour in danger but by good fortune no one knows. However the knight who laid you low is also eager to know how you do and I think will insist on coming to see for himself. He thought you a most pretty youth and admired your courage. Such likings are all the fashion now, following the pattern of his majesty. And indeed kings have always had their favourites of both sexes, even her late majesty as my own Lord of Leicester and the Earl of Essex. Power ever attracts beauty as moth to candle flame which often has its wings singed there.’

  ‘Madam, before you leave me I would ask you kindly to fetch me certain things as I direct. I do not wish to rise and set my wound bleeding again which you have so skilfully staunched.’

  ‘Well, I have tended many wounds in my time, especially from this most dangerous game of the tilt that the noblemen will play, and noblewomen encourage them. And for what: to act out an old play of the romances as Sir Gawain and La Belle Iseult, as if they were Arthur and his knights risen from the dead who were long dust before my grandfather was born if they ever in truth walked the earth except in story books and broadsheet ballads.’

  So grumbling still she brought me the things I asked for that I might strap my wrist with a poultice, soaked in tincture of oil of Solomon’s seal, under a leather wristband stiffened with smooth fillets of wood and the same to be applied on a cloth for my wound. I asked also for a draught of poppy to quell the pain and with a double purpose drown me in Lethe for I could bear neither the sting of my wounds nor of my thoughts.

  When I woke again it was to find the knight of the tower, as I judged for I had never before seen his face without his helmet, sitting beside me on a stool and leaning his hands on his sword, his chin on his hands.

  ‘They say you are something of a physician Sir Boy. Will you live? I would not be the cause of such a spark put out.’

  ‘I thank you for your asking sir. Are you that knight that worsted me? If so I thank you that you did not strike harder as I believe you might have done, and that as I remember you came to my aid.’

  ‘It is no part of courage to strike harder than is necessary to gain the end or to be the oppressor of the weaker party.’

  ‘Then sir you have an unfashionable idea of chivalry for these harsh days.’

  ‘So young and so out of sorts with the times. You would be a philosopher as well as a pasteboard soldier. What is your name Sir Boy?’

  ‘Amyntas Boston, sir. And yours? By your manner of speaking you should be a Scotsman.’

  ‘Aye. For I came south with his majesty looking for some preferment in England since in Scotland I am only the youngest son of Sir Hector McQueen, a landless laird who left my mother nothing but debts, and a crumbling tower besieged by the bailiffs. Hence my impresa. My given name is Duncan, after the kings of Scotland. His majesty was gracious enough to knight me for my attendance on him as a page but now I must make my own fortune by my sword. That is not easy in time of peace. So I think to go abroad where there are still wars and booty to be had by taking and ransoming of prisoners or in defence of new colonies in lands still to be explored by the Northwest Passage if that may be found, where a landless man may gain something of his own. What is your lineage?’

  ‘My father was a physician sir in Salisbury and I follow his calling.’

  ‘Then you could be most useful for my enterprise for I mean to settle in the New World either in the north where there are many animals as beaver and silver fox that may be trapped for their fur and a fortune made that way or in the south where gold is to be found among the idols of the heathens who live there. You are a lad of courage. Come with me.’

  ‘I am honoured sir that you should wish to make me of your company but I am servant to the Countess of Pembroke and cannot leave at will.’

  ‘Fortune changes. Now that her son the earl has a wife your countess must move over. Who knows where she will go or what she will do? She may no longer have need of a page physician.’

  ‘Then I shall follow my fortunes elsewhere sir but for now I remain in her service.’

  ‘If you should change your mind Sir Boy you may find me until I sail at the Unicorn in Southwark.’ And he left me.

  I was glad to see him go for the truth of his words pained me and the strength of his will in my weakened state might have prevailed on me to go with him though it would have been hard to keep my secret for many months on board ship. If I were discovered I might suffer all kinds of indignity as indeed I feared might also be the case if I were not. Sir Duncan McQueen had stared at me too hard with a look of lechery and I remembered my night-time visitor when first I came to the great house.

  Later after I had slept again a servant was sent to me with bread and broth and a hot posset to which I added more poppy and so slept pretty well, except it seemed to me that my lady came and leant above me so that her naked breast nearly rested on my lips and her hand on my brow. In the morning I remembered some words of a poet: ‘It was no dream I lay broad waking’ but could not tell if this was true or false.

  Within two days treating of my wound I was well enough to rise and make my way, though shakily, to my lady’s chamber. The house was quiet and empty, the court having gone away for Windsor carrying with them the bride and groom. I found her seated in her chair and saw at once the settled melancholy on her face.

  ‘Well Amyntas, you have not killed yourself with your foolishness.’

  I fell on my knees and kissed the folds of her skirt. ‘My lady is rightly angry with me.’

  ‘At least no one knew your folly except myself. I saw to that or I had been shamed to have been deceived as men would have thought it. Were you mad Amyntas to play such a trick? And where did you get your antique armour that caused all to laugh that saw you?’

  ‘I found it in Sir Henry Stilman his house.’

  ‘It must have been his son’s. A boy of great promise struck down by the smallpox. And where did you learn your skills?’

  ‘By practice my lady’

  ‘Why did you expose yourself and me to discovery rash child?’

  ‘I thought to do as Zelmane in your brother’s Arcadia!

  ‘But Zelmane was a youth, a prince in disguise.’

  ‘Then I could be Parthenia when she fought as the Knight of the Temple.’

  And was worsted. The Arcadia of my dear brother is to be understood like one of Our Saviour’s parables as showing forth an inner meaning, not to be followed slavishly word for word. Again I say Amyntas you must give thought to your future. When my son returns after the Christmas festival I must leave this place, as well Ramsbury and my Ivychurch and I do not know where I shall go except to lodge a while at Baynard’s. I shall be poor, Amyntas, and must cut my coat according to my cloth. You must shift for yourself though I will give you what help I may but I shall be myself a vagrant. You must consider whether it is time to give up your disguise and look for a husband, some merchant or physician or servant to a noble household as a steward.’

  My heart sank at these words. She went on: ‘I would provide you with something towards your marriage portion.’

  ‘My lady, it was not the lack of a dowry that brought me here at your command.’ And here I felt the tears begin to start in my eyes.

  ‘There child, do not distress yourself. Only think of what I have said and we will speak of it again when you are more recovered from your wound.’

  Then I said that I would go to London. ‘Not to be a charge on your ladyship but to make my own way, never to bring you any discomfort but only to be allowed to come to you sometimes and to be always ready if you should need me.
’ And here I could no longer stay my tears but wept openly.

  My lady reached down and drew me up and into her bosom. ‘Come now be calm. Do not drown us both in your tears. You shall come with me when I go and we will see what the future will bring and what God intends for us both in his own good time. Perhaps the course of nature will settle all. Who knows but we shall both find husbands.’

  I decide not to do any more paperwork after signing off with the Gaos. Instead I switch on the tele and zap in on the ten o’clock news. There’s the usual political shenanigans going on of how the minister lied. Cries of ‘resign, resign’. Smiling ripostes and animal howls and groans in reply from the Commons bear garden. Public service workers are threatening to strike. The dead will be unburied; the living uncared for; fires will rage; refuse pile up in the streets for rats and foxes to rummage through. The spectre of ancient anarchy is invoked to keep us in line.

  ‘Symptomatic of a lawless age,’ the newscaster is saying against a background panorama of clenched fists, stones being thrown. The sound cuts in above his voice: men’s shouting and women’s screamed abuse. ‘This normally quiet street of respectable citizens…’ The camera focuses on the street name and then pans to the house number. It swings to the words on a couple of placards: ‘Satanist, Pervert; We don’t want you in our town.’ The address is Galton’s.

  The camera sashays from face to face contorted with self-righteous rage and then to the back of the small crowd to capture the arrival of the police. As it zooms in on the police cars (Z cars, jam sandwiches? What are they called now that they’re fruity coloured as ice lollies?) for a couple of seconds it picks up a silent figure at the back, a little apart. I think I recognise Ms Apple-pie Molders.

  I switch channels to see if I can find another version of the news, with perhaps a second shot of her in confirmation. This time I get the beginning of the story. The protesters were alerted by a piece in the local paper. But how did the rag get hold of it? I dial directory enquiries for its number. Will there be anyone there as late as this? Perhaps I should ring Galton to see if he’s inside the house and OK. I try his number.

  ‘Yes. Who is it?’

  ‘It’s Jade Green, Dr Galton. Are you OK?’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It’s on the television news. The police have just arrived. I expect they’ll want to come in. You should let them. Be nice to them. You’re an innocent citizen who hasn’t been charged with anything, besieged in your own home. They have to protect you. Do you want me to come down? Is there anywhere you can go? They should put a guard on the house.’

  ‘There’s nowhere I can go, except perhaps to one of our coven but I don’t want to involve them. If they’ll send these people away and leave someone on duty here I’d rather stay in my own home. It’s good of you to offer to come down but by the time you could get here I hope they’d all be gone.’

  While he’s speaking I’m watching the Molders moving away from the back of the crowd. Mission accomplished. I decide not to tell Galton what I think I’ve seen. After all I’m not absolutely sure and he might spill it to the cops as a fact or do something silly with the information.

  ‘There’s someone at the door, Ms Green. I expect as you say it’ll be the police. Thank you for calling. I’ll ring you in the morning.’

  ‘Earlier if you need me. I’ll try to find out how all this started.’ Is he frightened or just excited? I can’t tell from his voice. I decide it’s too late now to ring the paper. Sleep on it, Jade.

  When I ask for the editor in the morning I can just imagine the set up. ‘Trisha speaking. Can I help? I’ll see if Mr Hanks is available. Who shall I say is calling?’

  Hanks comes on the line with a triple note ‘Hal-lo-ah. Ms Green, is it? What can I do for you?’

  ‘I represent Dr Alastair Galton, Mr Hanks. The man whose house was besieged last night as a result of a piece in your paper. I’d like a copy of that article and to know where you got your information.’

  ‘We never reveal our sources, Ms Green.’

  ‘Don’t make it hard for me, Mr Hanks, or I could make it hard for you. I don’t imagine your paper could stand an action for libel, let alone the damages Dr Galton would undoubtedly be awarded.’

  ‘We merely reported the facts.’

  “There are no facts except that Dr Galton has not been charged with anything and is therefore entitled to his privacy and to not being libelled by your publication. Are you a lawyer, Mr Hanks? If not I suggest that you consider carefully what I have said.’

  ‘The local library has a copy.’

  ‘I haven’t time for that, Mr Hanks. I need one now. I suggest you fax one to me as soon as we finish this conversation. Now for my second point. Did your information come from the police?’

  ‘Alright.’ He’s suddenly understood the seriousness of what I am suggesting. ‘It was an anonymous tip-off. A phone call.’

  ‘Did you get the number?’

  ‘I told you it was anonymous.’

  And you didn’t use 1471 to find out?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you attempt to verify the allegation?’

  ‘I checked the name and address on the electoral roll. I rang the college and asked to speak to Dr Galton. They said he no longer worked there. So I knew I’d got the right guy. Look, I don’t want any trouble. We run on a shoestring. I can’t tell you any more than I have, and what’s in the piece.’

  ‘Fax me a copy then, Mr Hanks. You do have a fax machine? What was the voice of your informant like? Male or female?’

  ‘It was muffled. It could have been deep female or light male. I thought they’d put something over the mouthpiece. People often do if they’re giving information anonymously. Or else these days they text or email.’

  ‘I need to see the whole piece to decide how libellous it might be.’

  ‘Look, we didn’t mean any harm. I wasn’t to know they’d besiege the guy’s house. I can’t be held responsible for people getting worked up about something they read in the paper. Christ knows it’s hard enough to get them to buy one, unless it’s got their kid’s birthday in it. OK, I’ll fax it to you. What’s the number?’

  When I tell him he says: ‘That’s a London number.’

  ‘Yes indeed. My office is in London.’ Just in case he thinks he’s dealing with some little local firm.

  When the fax comes through I see why Hanks suddenly decided to cooperate. It’s all there: the arrest, Gallon’s name and address, the fact that he was naked, his dismissal from Wessex. The only thing that isn’t in the piece is why he was sacked. But the implication of ‘not safe with young people’ is enough to damn him as a paedophile, and bring out the self-appointed guardians of public morality baying for blood. If it weren’t all true, Galton could demand a printed apology at least. But anyway that isn’t what I’m after. I’m trying to figure out why the Wessex people should pursue him in this way. Is it just spite or their own version of self-righteousness?

  By getting himself arrested he gave them the opportunity to hit back at him, even if someone (Molders?) was behind that too. But it doesn’t tell me why. I could ask Galton point-blank but somehow I don’t think I’d get an answer, not the real one anyway. An evasion if not a full-blown lie.

  I ring Galton. ‘How are you this morning, Dr Galton? Did you talk to the police? Did you get some sleep?’

  ‘I did as you suggested and asked for their help. They were quite correct and polite. I realise of course that our beliefs seem strange to them. One of them I thought would have been less sympathetic if he had been on his own and in charge. Fortunately his superior realised his responsibilities in keeping the peace and protecting an innocent member of the public.’

  He’s sounding smug again and I can feel myself getting tetchy. ‘If anyone tries to interview you from the press don’t talk to them. Have you still got police protection?’

  ‘They went off about midnight after all the people had gone away. They said I should tele
phone if there was any more trouble.’

  ‘And the TV cameras?’

  ‘They left soon after the police turned up and dispersed the crowd. I watched it all from my bedroom.’

  ‘Can you see if there’s anyone there now?’

  ‘There is someone, I think. On the other side of the road, looking up at the house from time to time. Unless he’s a burglar I can’t think why else he would be there.’

  ‘He’ll pounce on you if you go out, and try to get an interview. Be very careful. Remember what I’ve said. Don’t talk to anyone, except me or the police. I think I’m going to be paying a visit to Wessex. I might need to talk to you. If you’re going out call me on my mobile.’

  ‘Ms Green, I have to say when I asked you to help me out with my little problem I had no idea things would escalate in this way. I am so grateful for your support.’

  ‘Don’t worry Dr Galton, my bill will soon fix that.’ I ring off angry with myself at my own sharp tongue. It’s when the guy gets yucky I find myself lashing out. I wonder why he hasn’t tried to recruit me for his coven. I should have warned him above all to lie low and not go dancing about in the woods at night.

  There’s no pleasure in a run on the Crusader today. For one it’s raining and two it’s Friday. Everyone’s already heading out of town in the spray from the car in front. Pile-up time on the motorway. I steer well clear of both the plodders and the racers. I can’t wait to get out of my wet gear when I get to the Wessex bike shed. Axe you getting old, Jade? You used to find bombing along in the rain, using all your skills, exhilarating. Or is it just that for so long post-Helen you didn’t care if you lived or died and now, suddenly you have a stake in being alive; though I couldn’t pin down what if anything it’s based on and it may not last, may be just a delusory false dawn. There goes Rosalind again in my head cocking a sharp eye, sticking out her sharp tongue. ‘Men have died and worms have eaten them, but not for love.’

  Maybe I should just come clean. March into the dean’s office and say: ‘I’m representing Dr Galton, the lecturer you sacked and we’re going to sue you for unfair dismissal and harassment.’ But I still haven’t any proof. I’d be thrown out of Wessex at once with no chance to gather any evidence ever again. How can I prove it was an anonymous tip-off from here that set the mob on Galton?