The Animal Stars Collection

by Jackie French

  There were voices down the hall—two of Sir Amyas’s servants were coming. My Queen slipped the letters up her sleeve, then took Master Curle’s arm again.

  ‘It was a fine idea of yours, Master Curle, but I have walked enough,’ she said more loudly. Her voice was steady, but I could hear the excitement underneath.

  The attendants stared at us as my Queen took her place again on her big chair under its red and gold canopy. But my Queen said nothing. I jumped up on her lap and made myself comfortable. Every now and then she patted her sleeve where the letters lay and I heard the paper crackle.

  All day she waited. The summer day was still bright outside the window as our supper was brought in. Even now under Sir Amyas there were the same number of dishes, rich with spices: chicken with quinces, and root vegetables in cider and mustard, deer haunch with caraway and aniseed, a jelly of mulberries, and apples from France, the sort my Queen liked best, and a trifle with ginger and rosewater.

  And still she did not take her letters out.

  More candles were brought in. Night settled around the castle. Now her legs pained her so that it was sometimes almost dawn before my Queen went to bed. Tonight she sewed, as usual, while Master Curle read to her. When his voice grew tired, Mistress Curle took the book.

  At last my Queen yawned. She knelt at prayers with her ladies, who then helped her to her feet and to her bedchamber, where Jane and Mistress Curle attended her.

  Jane came over to unlace her dress, but my Queen stopped her. She reached into her sleeve and pulled out the letters.

  Jane stared. ‘Madam…’ she began. My Queen put her finger to her lips. She sat on the edge of her bed and started to read. I jumped up beside her—or tried to. Perhaps I was getting a bit fat. Finally, after I had tried twice, Jane sighed, then lifted me up and placed me next to my Queen.

  I was nearly asleep when my Queen looked up from her letters. Her face glowed. I gave a snort and tried to wake myself up.

  ‘So, now we know what has been happening in the world outside…’

  ‘Oh Madam, is it good news?’

  ‘I…I do not know. Perhaps it is the best news I have ever had.’

  ‘Madam, what is it?’ cried Jane.

  My Queen seemed to be seeing somewhere else, somewhere far away.

  Her women waited, trying not to seem impatient, though I could smell that they were.

  Then at last she spoke again. There was a strange light in her eyes, an almost desperate one, as though she were chasing a fox and knew she had only one chance to grab it before it went to earth.

  My Queen held up the piece of paper. The strong black writing glinted in the candlelight. ‘This letter—this amazing letter—is from my old friend Andrew Babington. He has planned it all. It’s all arranged. He says Philip of Spain has sent twenty thousand ducats to the Netherlands. The Spanish fleet is already gathering there. As soon as it sets sail to secure me, Babington and ten friends, noble English Catholics, will capture Elizabeth when she makes her summer journey to Hertfordshire, then bring one hundred men to free me. All Catholic England will take up arms and make me Queen. Queen of England, as I always should have been…’

  Jane and Mistress Curle sat there silently. I could smell their excitement, but there was confusion too, and maybe fear. Then Mistress Curle said, ‘Madam…what will they do with the Queen your cousin?’

  ‘Elizabeth.’ My Queen looked down at her hands, then back at Mistress Curle. When she spoke her voice was cold and clear. ‘They plan to kill her. There is no way that I could keep the throne with Elizabeth alive. They will put poison on her saddle, to kill her when she rides. And if that fails they will use other means. Master Babington asks for my permission to go ahead.’

  The room was silent. I was not sure what I smelt—shock and joy, but something more—as they listened to a queen plot to kill a queen.

  My Queen’s voice grew decisive. ‘Jane, go to the other chamber. Fetch Master Nau. Fetch a pen and paper and the invisible alum ink. But do not let anyone see you.’

  Jane nodded. ‘Of course, Madam,’ she said. She hesitated. ‘Madam, forgive me…what will you tell Master Babington?’

  My Queen’s voice was firmer than I had ever heard it.

  ‘He will give me back my throne. My crown, my life. What should I tell him?

  ‘I will tell him to go ahead. That as soon as the Spanish troops arrive they must assassinate Elizabeth. While she lives I can not be safe. Then they must come for me. But if their rescue fails, if I am taken to the Tower, they must still kill her. They must free English Catholics from this Protestant rule.’

  I whined. I couldn’t help it. I had never heard her voice like that before. She stroked me without looking at me, as though she hardly realised I was there.

  ‘He has my permission,’ she said, and her eyes shone brighter than the candles. ‘He has indeed.’

  CHAPTER 17

  My Queen Leaves Chartley Hall

  Chartley Hall, Summer 1586

  It was as though the ice that had frozen my Queen had melted. Sometimes she played the lute with Master Bourgoine or sang with her women. Even her legs improved.

  She still whispered to me, late in the night when the others were asleep. But now it was plans, not pain, that kept her awake.

  ‘I will have the grandest coronation England has ever seen, Folly! I will wear white, I think, just as I did when François was crowned. And gold, more gold than the court has ever seen. Should I marry again? Every prince in Europe will want my hand now. But only to a Catholic will do. England must be brought to the True Faith again, the Mass heard across the land. The ambassadors will come from France, from Spain, and from the Vatican…All those who forget me now will court me once again. And my son, Folly. He must acknowledge me if I am Queen of England. My little son…’

  But still the days went on much as before. Sometimes, now that the weather was warmer, we had permission to walk down to the gardens, my Queen supported by her secretaries, Master Curle and Master Nau. Of course I went too, to bark to make sure that the way was clear.

  It was wonderful to be outside again, to smell fresh air and the scent of fox on the breeze. I wanted to run, to snuffle in the leaves under the trees, or try to catch the starlings that yelled at me from the branches.

  But it was my job to stay with my Queen, no matter how slowly she moved.

  The gardens of Chartley were all long rows, grasses and long canals. Statues of gods and goddesses, long clipped hedges, gardeners with scythes cutting the grass so it looked like one of the carpets we had had back with Shrewsbury at Sheffield and larks singing.

  There were butterflies among the roses. Suddenly, as I sat in the gardens by my Queen and her ladies all sewing, I remembered being a pup, flinging myself into the air to catch a butterfly in my jaws.

  Had I ever been as young as that?

  It was pleasant, dozing in the sunlight, feeling the warmth seep into my bones. But above me my Queen was restless, gazing out across the gardens.

  ‘How long before they come for me?’ she whispered. ‘How long now?’

  ‘Your pardon, Madam?’ said Jane.

  My Queen shook her head. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Nothing important.’

  The smells of summer deepened, with the hint of ripening wheat in the fields beyond our prison. But still no rescue came.

  The air had a haze of heat the day that Sir Amyas Paulet arrived. He still smelt of rotten cheese, but for once he was smiling. The smile looked odd, as though it had been stuck on his face and might fall off at any moment.

  ‘My Lady,’ he said (he never called her ‘Your Majesty’), ‘a neighbour holds a hunt today. I wonder if you would care to join the party.’

  My Queen looked at him, surprised. He had never offered her anything like that before.

  ‘I am afraid my hunting days are far behind me,’ she said.

  ‘But you could ride with us, perhaps, even if you do not hunt,’ said Sir Amyas pleasantly. ‘There will
be a banquet on the grass, too.’

  ‘A banquet out of doors!’ She smiled at that. ‘Well, Folly, would you like to feast among the trees?’

  ‘Woof,’ I said cautiously. I smelt something about Sir Amyas…something strange. Whatever it was he was saying, it was not what he was thinking: we dogs cannot lie, but we know what it sounds like on the human tongue.

  ‘I think the last such banquet I had was back in France,’ she said. ‘Scotland is not a land for frivolity like that…Thank you, Sir Amyas. I would love to banquet in the sun.’ She gave him her hand. After a moment he bent and kissed it. ‘Do you know how long it has been since I have had new people to talk to?’ she said. ‘Ah, Sir Amyas, you are giving me a gift indeed.’

  11 August 1586

  She dressed in green, her favourite riding habit. I had never seen her in anything but black before. Jane fixed on her favourite wig of thick brown curls and pinned her hat onto her head. ‘Why should Sir Amyas show you such favour now?’

  My Queen laughed. ‘Perhaps he has remembered that Elizabeth is getting older. When Elizabeth dies I will be Queen, even if I were never rescued. Perhaps Sir Amyas has finally realised that it does no harm to have the favour of the woman who will one day be his ruler.’

  Her smile deepened. ‘Perhaps,’ she added, ‘I will be his Queen sooner than he thinks.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Jane’s voice was full of doubt. ‘Madam, I do not like this.’ But my Queen was too happy to hear the worry in her friend’s voice.

  Master Bourgoine helped my Queen into the courtyard. She patted me as the men brought the steps for her to climb onto her horse. ‘You be a good dog and stay with Jane,’ she said.

  I stared at her as the men helped her climb onto the big horse and arranged her skirts on the saddle. ‘Woof?’ I said unbelievingly. How could she leave me behind? I was her dog! It was my duty to run beside her horse…All right, I only had short legs. And those horses’ legs looked very tall…

  Jane bent and picked me up. She patted me absentmindedly, but her eyes were on the Queen, her face still full of worry.

  ‘Woof!’ I yelled. ‘Woof!’ I struggled to get down, but Jane’s arms held me firm.

  ‘Folly!’ she said sharply. At least she no longer called me Mouse. ‘Behave yourself!’ She added more gently, ‘She’ll be back soon.’ But there were shadows in her voice.

  My Queen clicked her tongue and shook her reins. The big horse moved off at a slow, rocking canter, with Master Bourgoine and Master Curle and Master Nau a little way behind.

  Jane watched them canter across the moat. Then she put me down. ‘Come for a nice little walk around the gardens, boy—’ she began.

  But I was off.

  ‘Folly!’ yelled Jane. But I was too fast, even for her.

  Over the moat I raced, and down the track. They were out of sight now, but there was nothing wrong with my nose, even if I hadn’t had a decent run for so long my legs were stiff. And yes, I was just a bit fat too. Around the corner I ran…

  And there were the riders in the distance, not going fast, enjoying the fresh air.

  Suddenly my Queen reined her horse to a stop.

  Had she seen me? I tried to make my legs go faster. But it had been too long since I had run like this. My heart was pounding in my ears.

  And then I understood. She wasn’t looking back at me at all. A troop of horsemen galloped towards her down the road. They had swords at their sides, and spears and pistols, and helmets on their heads.

  My breath was tearing at my lungs. But I’d nearly reached her. I heard my Queen say, ‘They’ve come! Master Bourgoine, rescue has come at last!’ She laughed and brushed her hair back from her face.

  ‘Woof!’ I panted. ‘Woof!’ The new troops reined their mounts in and halted. She didn’t even notice me at all.

  I stood there wheezing as Sir Amyas cantered up to the troops. He and the leader spoke for a moment, then the leader rode forward and dismounted. He was dressed in green and gold, and looked tiny beside my Queen’s height.

  Her face glowed with more happiness than I had ever seen before. She held out her hand in welcome. But the trooper ignored it.

  ‘Madam,’ he said, with no bow at all. ‘It is my duty to inform you that your plot against our beloved Queen Elizabeth has been discovered.’

  The joy vanished from my Queen’s face. Her hand dropped to her side.

  ‘I am sorry, I do not understand,’ she said. ‘I have always considered your Queen my good sister and my friend.’

  The man looked uncomfortable. ‘Madam, my orders are to arrest your secretaries, and conduct you to Tixall.’

  ‘Arrest! That is impossible! Outrageous! We are a Sovereign Queen.’ She gestured to Master Curle and Master Nau and Master Bourgoine. ‘Defend me!’ she cried. ‘Draw your swords!’

  ‘Woof!’ I snarled, daring the troopers to get down off their horses and face me. ‘Woof, woof!’

  I snapped at the horses’ legs. They shifted uneasily. But no one else paid me any attention.

  Master Bourgoine put his hand to his sword hilt, but before he could draw it he was surrounded, and Master Curle too. The guards pointed pistols at their faces.

  ‘Madam—’ began the troops’ captain again.

  My Queen slid down from her side saddle. I hadn’t known that she was still so nimble. Perhaps fury gave her strength. She flung herself down to sit on the grass by the side of the track. ‘Lay a hand on me if you will. I would rather die where I am than submit to such injustice.’

  I leapt into her lap, then turned to face her enemies. I snarled again.

  Sir Amyas dismounted and stepped forward. ‘Madam, this is ridiculous. Pray stop behaving like a child. If you will not come willingly you will be removed by force.’

  My Queen’s voice shook and tears ran down her face. ‘Who would lay hands on a Sovereign Queen?’

  ‘Madam…’ Sir Amyas shrugged. ‘You can sit there,’ he said, ‘until you get cold and thirsty. And then you will come to Tixall.’

  My Queen’s voice shook with rage and tears. ‘Traitor! You lured me out here, away from my people.’

  ‘I am no traitor, Madam. I serve only one queen. And you are not she.’

  Master Bourgoine knelt beside my Queen. ‘Your Majesty, forgive me. You must do what they ask.’

  ‘I am a queen! I am a Sovereign Monarch!’

  ‘Madam, we would defend you to the death. You know we would. But our deaths would avail you nothing. We are outnumbered, overpowered. We have no choice, Your Majesty.’

  ‘You mean that I have no choice, even though I am a queen.’

  Her hands stroked me. I could feel them trembling. Finally, she glared at Sir Amyas. ‘Very well. But you must wait while I pray for guidance.’

  Master Bourgoine helped her stand. Sir Amyas would have helped her too, but she ignored his hand. She walked alone to a nearby tree and knelt. I followed her and stood by her, my teeth bared in a silent snarl, daring anyone to approach. Finally she rose. Master Bourgoine helped her back onto her horse. Some of the troopers surrounded the two of them. My Queen was so much taller that she towered over them all. They rode away.

  I tried to follow her. No matter how fast they had galloped I would have followed her scent as long as my legs would carry me. But Sir Amyas grabbed me and held me fast.

  I struggled. I tried to bite. It was the only time in my life, I think, when I have felt too small. No matter how brave a dog is, no matter how determined, there is nothing you can do when a man holds you tight. Not when he is used to handling dogs, as Sir Amyas was.

  He thrust me at one of the remaining troopers. The man held me tight, his hand around my jaws so I could hardly breathe. I couldn’t even bark to say goodbye. Then Master Nau and Master Curle were led away.

  CHAPTER 18

  I am Abandoned

  Chartley Hall, 11 August 1586

  They took me back to Chartley, but not to our rooms.

  The trooper handed me to another, who
buttoned me into his jacket. There was no use struggling now. I managed to get my nose out between the buttons of his coat, to try to sniff the last scent of my Queen. But already her smell was fading.

  It was a short ride back to Chartley. The trooper dismounted, then strode towards the kitchens. He put me down at the door. He yelled, ‘Look after this!’ I heard his horse canter off after the others.

  I stood on the damp cobblestones. I shivered, from shock I think, not cold. I heard feet come towards me. A woman in a coarse linen skirt peered down. ‘What’s that? A big black rat?’

  Someone elbowed her out of the way. ‘Have you no sense, woman? That’s the Queen’s small dog.’ It was Monsewer’s voice.

  ‘Pardon, Monsewer. I meant no offence.’ And then she added, ‘What’s it doing here, then?’

  ‘I don’t know. She keeps him with her all the time.’ Monsewer bent down and picked me up. ‘Are you hurt, boy?’

  I didn’t want him touching me. I didn’t want anyone to touch me, except her. But his hands were kind. Maybe he could get me back to my Queen. I whined and looked up at him, then struggled to get down, to let him know I needed to find her again.

  ‘Grrf!’ I cried. ‘Yip yip grrf!’ I darted to the door and back again, to show them I needed to find my Queen. How impossible it is sometimes to get humans to understand!

  Suddenly above us I heard screams. It was Jane’s voice: raised in a scream of anger, not of fear. Then more yells and the sound of splintering wood.

  Monsewer shoved me at the woman. ‘Look after him! Don’t let him out!’ He ran through the kitchens and towards the stairs.

  The woman held me in the crook of her arm. ‘Look after him…’ she muttered. ‘And me with the pots to scour…’

  ‘I’ll take him.’ It was a girl’s voice. She almost sounded like Megan, from long ago. But this girl spoke like an English girl, not a Scottish one, and her smell was different too. Gentle hands took me from the woman’s arms and stroked my ears. ‘He’s shivering! Don’t be afraid, boy. I’ll look after you.’