The Betrayal

by Mary Hooper

  She smiled wryly, but shook her head. ‘There I’m known as Drunk William’s widow and people spit on the ground when they say his name. And you’ll be back here in Mortlake before too long, will you not?’

  I said I would (though in truth I didn’t know) and, as another roar came from the tavern, bade her good-night and promised to go and see her in the market place the following morning.

  I called on Isabelle on my way home, and though she’d already retired to bed and was mighty surprised to see me at such a late hour, she was pleased with my news and readily agreed to take my place on a daily basis, looking after Beth and Merryl and doing a little cooking and cleaning for the rest of the family until they all went to London. As I’d thought, however, she said she wouldn’t undertake to sleep at the house under any circumstances, especially once the family had left.

  ‘Not with those critters – those ally-gators,’ she said, ‘and the dead birds stuck on branches – and those bones! No, you’ll have to find someone else to bide the nights.’

  I said I would, and moreover knew the very person.

  It was probably near to eleven o’clock when I returned home and found the magician’s house in darkness, and the fire in the kitchen almost out. I lit a candle and banked up the fire, then, hearing no sound at all from any of the downstairs rooms, tiptoed along the corridor and pressed my ear to the library door. The precious show-stone had been at the back of my mind the whole evening, even though I was sure that Dr Dee would have remembered to lock it up before he retired. I told myself he had done – but to no avail, for ’twas near impossible for someone as curious as I to pass up the chance of holding and perhaps looking into this most curious and strange object once more.

  As no sound came from within the library and there was no light to be seen, I pushed the heavy door open. The candles in the wall sconces were out and the fire, which had been burning well when I’d been in the room earlier that evening, didn’t show as much as a firefly glow, so it seemed that Dr Dee must have retired some time back. I turned so that the light from my candle fell across his desk and drew in my breath sharply. The box was there, and – perhaps due to Dr Dee’s absent-mindedness – still without its padlock.

  Seeing this I became extreme nervous – but did not allow that to stop me. Carefully I stood the candlestick down on the desk, reached towards the box and opened it. It was lined inside in deep-blue velvet and contained, as I already knew, the dark viewing mirror and the show-stone, that wonderful shiny sphere of smooth crystal.

  My heart beat loudly in my ears as I reached for the stone and lifted it out, turning it slightly so that the light from the candle fell upon it. Looking into it I had the immediate impression that I was looking into a bottomless well … into air … into infinity. I stared until the edges of the ball blurred and seemed to rise to meet me, giving me the strange impression that I was sinking deeper and deeper into the crystal itself. As I stared, colours appeared within it, then shapes that folded in on themselves and stretched out again to become people. The shadowy figure of Tomas appeared and I strained to see more, but he began walking away into the distance and the globe darkened to show a poor and shabby room with a girl slumped on the floor within it. She wore a black skirt and red cloak, which was the only spot of colour in the room, but I couldn’t see her features because she was bent over, weeping. I got the feeling she was friendless, lost and alone, and her grief was near overwhelming her.

  It couldn’t be me, I thought with relief, for I didn’t have a red cloak. But who was it? Was it someone I cared about? Was it Juliette, perhaps, found out as an imposter?

  I moved the stone slightly in a vain attempt to see the girl from a different angle and make out who she was. I think I may even have whispered, ‘Who are you? ’

  As I did so, however, to my horror there came a voice from the far end of the room. ‘What? Who’s that?!’ Dr Dee barked out. ‘Who’s there?’

  Terrified, I slipped the stone back into its box and turned towards the voice. By the light of my candle, I could now see Dr Dee at the far end of the room. He was lying on a settle under the stained-glass window and looked as if he’d just woken.

  I thank God that I did not falter in my demeanour. ‘You startled me, Sir! Can I be of any assistance? Shall I make up the fire for you?’ I gave a little nervous laugh (which was not in the least bit false). ‘Finding everything in darkness, I thought the whole house a-bed. I came in here to make sure the fire was safely out.’

  ‘I must have fallen asleep,’ Dr Dee said grumpily.

  ‘And all in the dark, Sir?’

  ‘I prefer the darkness, for it’s then that the spirits come.’

  I made no comment on this, merely asked again if I should make up the fire, and upon him replying no, told him that I’d secured Isabelle’s help in the house and that she’d be arriving the following day to begin her duties.

  ‘And she will stay in this house when we leave for Whitehall?’ he asked.

  I shook my head. ‘If you will excuse her, Sir, she has commitments at home. She has to look after the younger ones at night while her mother works.’

  Dr Dee muttered impatiently at these domestic details.

  ‘But ’tis of no import, for I’ve found a trustworthy goodwife who has no responsibilities of her own. When you go to London, she’ll be free to move in here at a moment’s notice and stay as long as you wish her to.’

  ‘Is she a responsible woman?’

  ‘Indeed, Sir. As honest as the day is long. She will not only mind your house, she will care for it in your absence, polish the woodstuffs, scrub the floors and wash the linens if you wish it.’ Dr Dee grunted, which I took to be assent, while I happily contemplated meeting my ma in the market the following morning and telling her of her new position.

  He got to his feet and I handed him my candle to light him to bed, while I, my heart still pounding, went to bed in my own little chamber and thought over all the events of the day: my father dead, my ma found, two people employed, a girl who may not be who she said she was – and a strange vision in a glass sphere …

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was a fine, bright day, as befitted what was supposed to be the first day of spring. I’d been back in London for five days and, though I’d contrived to be around the palace on several occasions, had not set eyes on Tomas in all that time, nor received any message from him. I did, however, expect to see him that day, for I was in St James’s Park with the Queen’s Players, and we were to perform a new play, named The Taming of the Shrew, for the queen. I thought that Juliette would be accompanying the queen, and I hoped to get the chance to ask her once again about her sponsor. If she maintained it was Lady Ashe, then I would tell Tomas and see what he thought about it.

  I was in the park because I’d remembered that Tomas had said the queen wanted to see a play acted as part of the spring celebrations, and by going to the Curtain and reacquainting myself with Mr James, I’d made sure I had a part in it. It was a very small role (for all the actors who usually played women had now returned to the company), and not one which called for me to be dressed in fine clothes with copious amounts of jewellery, as before, but merely to be a serving-woman in a tavern. I had to appear several times bearing tankards on a tray, and get my bottom pinched by a fat friar for my trouble.

  I’d given some thought to what I’d seen in the show-stone, but the vision of that bare room and the feeling of overwhelming grief had been rather overshadowed in my mind by the horror of discovering that Dr Dee was in the library. If it was a true vision I’d seen, if it really predicted something which was going to happen, then I’d recognise it when the time came. As it didn’t seem to have been me who’d been so devastated, however, I decided I wouldn’t spend any time worrying about it.

  I had, of course, acquainted Mistress Midge with all the happenings at Mortlake, told her of the two new servants I’d recruited and assured her that the mistress was making steady progress. We both of us knew that bef
ore the Dees arrived in London we’d have to find another home for Sonny, but so far had been unable to come up with any ideas. The ideal thing would be to get him apprenticed somewhere, to a blacksmith or carpenter or coffin-maker, for then he could live on the premises, but to obtain such an apprenticeship cost a tidy sum. Besides, a boy should usually show an aptitude for a particular trade and, though Sonny was ever-helpful, the only thing he showed a particular talent for was eating.

  That day, however, I’d banished Sonny from my mind and was at the park early to put on my costume and concentrate on my part in the play, for even if I didn’t have words to say, I had to act with the right temperament, and also smile and look outraged on cue. The play, I thought, was a strange one, and at the rehearsal two days before I’d judged it both confusing and brutal – and not near as funny as The Country Husband. Mr James had told us, however, that he was quite sure the queen would enjoy it immensely.

  Before the play was acted there was much else for her to enjoy, for the palace chefs had prepared an outdoor feast and several different beasts (I recognised an ox, a boar and a sheep) were roasting on spits, being turned and basted by small boys. In a pavilion beyond these roasts was a gigantic display of seafoods: sturgeon, oysters, clams, lobsters and the like displayed in the most marvellous fashion amongst running waterfalls, sea-shells and pearls. To accommodate the queen’s guests, five long tables had been covered in swathes of white linen and placed in an E-shape under the trees. At the centre of the top table stood the queen’s throne, on the arm of which was her drinking glass, painted in gold leaf and encrusted with jewels. She also had a silver two-pronged fork, the latest fashionable table item from Italy.

  I looked around, happy to be a part of this fair scene: the prettily domed pavilions, the candle-lamps ready to be lit, the flags and bunting on the trees, and the green bushes ‘blooming’ with pink and white silk flowers. There was a wooden floor for dancing, and even a fountain, which, it had been said, would flow with claret as dinner commenced.

  While the players gathered in the costuming tent and the food was being prepared, Her Grace was a-hawking in the park, accompanied by some of her ladies and gentlemen – and I heard tell that her fool had gone too. This led to me wondering if he had Juliette on his horse beside him, and if they might be talking closely together, he with his arm about her to stop her falling off. How was I going to introduce the topic I must question her about? What would Tomas do when he knew?

  ‘And how do you like the scene, young sir?’ a voice behind me asked, and I looked around to see that Mistress Hunt had come out of the dressing tent.

  ‘’Tis a grand sight,’ I said, ‘and will be even grander when the queen arrives.’

  ‘It will, indeed.’ Mistress Hunt removed a pin from the cushion which hung on a chain around her waist and secured a ribband which had become loose on my bodice. I stood very still, breathing in, for although I was wearing the tight undergarment to flatten my shape, I always feared that the quick eyes of the wardrobe mistress might notice that I was a little fuller in figure than the rest of the players. ‘I do not care overmuch for this latest play,’ she said in a low voice.

  ‘Nor I!’ I confessed.

  ‘Though they think the queen will be pleased by it. I hope she will, for her heart is heavy, poor woman, and she needs something to amuse her.’

  ‘Is she still upset because of the marriage of Robert Dudley?’ I asked, eager for palace gossip.

  Mistress Hunt shook her head. ‘No, I speak of the latest plot by the Scottish queen. Gossip has it that the queen’s ministers have had enough, for while Mary lives, they say their own heads are not safe. They are preparing Mary’s death warrant and are to persuade Her Grace to sign it.’

  ‘Indeed?’ I said. ‘But would she really kill her own cousin?’

  ‘She must! For if she does not, she may be killed.’

  I gasped and vowed, if I could, to ask Tomas later for news on this.

  I walked as far as the ‘theatre’ where we’d be performing, which was a natural dip in the land, flat at one end and lined with benches bearing cushions at the other. Here I joined the rest of the players, stagehands and scene shifters, who were awaiting the queen’s return. They were a genial bunch of boys and men, but I always found myself a little uneasy in their company. This was mostly because I feared they’d find me out as a girl by my voice and attitude (for instance, I could not forbear shuddering when Master Cutler allowed his pet spider to run over him), also because they were educated and quick of wit. Someone such as I, who’d had no schooling to speak of except for a few months at a dame school, was not able to converse easily with those who could deliver a quip or provoke mirth with a well-turned line. Sometimes I found myself laughing along with them without being able to tell the reason why.

  There was a sudden fanfare of trumpets, telling us that Her Grace was approaching the glade, and all gathered there fell silent, straightened their backs and their outfits, and turned towards where the royal gentlemen-at-arms were lined up. A moment afterwards a tremendous cheer broke out as the queen rode into view on a light-grey palfrey with a falcon on her wrist, surrounded by a large group of jumping, yapping hounds. She was wearing a sage-green riding outfit, its jacket embroidered with flowers and leaves, and over her red hair wore a close-fitting net covered with tiny, sparkling stones. Behind Her Grace (here my heart gave a great leap) rode Tomas, dressed as Jack o’ the Green in a silk cloak and hood, and behind him, in pretty matching outfits of cerise and green, rode the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, with Juliette amongst them. Juliette, very much alive.

  ‘God bless Your Grace!’ came the calls from all assembled there: cook or courtier, musician or actor. ‘Long life and happiness!’ ‘Long to reign over us!’

  Such heartfelt cries always made my eyes fill with tears, and I had to quickly blink these away before my fellow actors noticed such sentimentality. I then prepared to enjoy the day, for much would happen before the play was performed.

  First the queen sat and took a refreshing cordial while a choir of children dressed in springtime colours of green, white and yellow sang a pretty air about the season’s soft clouds and breezes. After this there was a display of dancing and a fair speech given by a lady dressed all in white, who crowned the queen with a coronet of flowers and called her Eliza, Queen of Shepherds, likening her ladies to milkmaids and shepherdesses. There was a pause in the entertainments while Her Grace ate heartily, then took her ease in a private tent accompanied by her ladies of the bedchamber. It was then that Tomas (accompanied by Juliette, alas) came to the players’ tent to exchange a few words about that afternoon’s production.

  Of course, Tomas knew it was me straight away, for I was a female disguised as a male disguised as a female and in all truth I was not very different from the way I usually looked, although I was made up to look older and had been padded around the behind to appear fatter.

  ‘I see you are playing the part of Mistress Midge!’ Tomas said.

  I laughed. ‘I am certainly larger of beam than normal.’ I curtseyed to him and then to Juliette, who nodded at me briefly.

  ‘Here again, are you?’ She looked around the tent. ‘Is Mr Shakespeare here?’ she asked. ‘I have heard that this play is by him.’

  I shook my head as I rose from my curtsey. ‘I haven’t heard that he’s here today. I believe he resides in Warwickshire.’

  Clearly disappointed, she began scanning the crowd for someone more illustrious to speak to. Her hair was braided very prettily, I noticed, and studded here and there with pearls.

  ‘Are you well?’ Tomas asked me.

  ‘I am, I thank you.’ I cleared my throat, wondering how to say what I had to. ‘And are you and your family well, Madam?’ I asked somewhat nervously, for of course it was not seemly for someone like me to ask a member of the nobility such a thing.

  She gave me a sharp look. ‘What an extraordinary question.’

  I hesitated and blurted out, ‘’Tis only
that … that I think Lady Ashe a noble lady and hoped that all was well with her family. It is Lady Margaret Ashe who is your aunt, is it not?’

  She raised her eyebrows. ‘It is, and I’m sure she will be most grateful for your solicitous thoughts.’

  I felt myself blush, partly because of the sarcasm in her voice – but mostly with shock. I had surely caught her out! She’d told me once again she was Lady Ashe’s niece, but this was not possible.

  Tomas looked at me curiously. ‘Is something wrong, Lucy? Are you nervous about the part you must play?’

  I shook my head as one of the actors – a grand, overbearing type – began speaking to Juliette of the great love he bore the queen.

  I found my voice. ‘Will you come to the table and take a glass of ale, Sir?’ I asked Tomas.

  He nodded and we walked the few steps out of her hearing. ‘What is it? Why did you speak to Mistress Juliette so? Do you know her family?’

  I nodded. ‘Do you remember I told you that Lord and Lady Ashe own all the land in Hazelgrove?’ I said. ‘He is the lord of our manor; they are both very well loved.’

  ‘I do remember it, now that you’ve reminded me,’ Tomas said. ‘And Mistress Juliette is their niece.’

  ‘But that’s just it – she isn’t!’ I said, speaking in a fierce whisper.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I had to go back to Mortlake last week and my mother was there, and she told me that Lady Ashe’s niece had recently died abroad.’

  Tomas was shaking his head before I’d even finished. ‘Then the girl living abroad must have been another, different niece.’

  ‘There is only one!’

  ‘Then perhaps Mistress Juliette here is a young cousin or some other relation to the lady.’

  I shook my head vehemently. ‘No. Tomas, I’ve got a feeling about her. I think she’s a counterfeit. She is no more Lady Ashe’s niece than I am. She is merely playing a part. I am anxious –’ and as the thought sprang to my mind, I spoke the words ‘– anxious for the safety of the queen!’