The Animal Stars Collection

by Jackie French

  She carried me into the kitchens. I looked towards the hearth, expecting to see dogs’ baskets there. But there were none. Of course, no other dogs lived in the kitchens now.

  I thought she would put me down. If she had put me down I could have found a way out, found my Queen’s scent…no matter how short my legs I would have found her!

  But instead the girl kept me with her all that day, for Monsewer came back and gave her jobs that she could do one-handed, stirring the pots or shelling peas with me on her lap. I think it was mostly to stop me from running away to find my Queen, and getting lost perhaps. But it was a comfort to be held.

  There was still no basket for me when night came. Instead the girl took me to the bed she shared with two other kitchen wenches. I slept between them on the feather mattress that smelt of girls and sweat and mutton. Not like the flowers and freshness of my Queen.

  And then the next day…and the next…

  I couldn’t eat at first. But Monsewer soaked bread in milk for me and warmed it up, and sat with me while I ate it. When I looked up I saw tears on his face, and realised he must also love my Queen.

  Another day…and another…more days and more again…

  Whispers rippled through the kitchen. Someone ran up to the girl who carried me. ‘Have you heard?’

  ‘Heard what?’

  ‘Master Babington, who used to be Her Majesty’s page! He has been found guilty of a plot to kill Queen Elizabeth.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘It’s true! And he has been hanged in London, with six of his friends. Not just hanged, either…’ Her voice grew lower and more excited. ‘They cut him down before he was dead, and cut out his bowels while he was still alive! Then they chopped his body into quarters, and…’

  I stopped listening. What did it matter? Nothing mattered till my Queen came back.

  I ate. I slept. I endured, as there was nothing else to do but wait. One day she would come for me. She was my Queen. One day she would return.

  She had to.

  CHAPTER 19

  My Queen Comes Back to Me

  Chartley Hall, Autumn 1586

  25 August

  It was Monsewer who came for me. The kitchen staff made way for him as he scooped me up and carried me upstairs.

  I hardly breathed. My heart was thumping like the big clock in the hall.

  And there she was, standing all alone in her outer room, the guards behind her.

  Monsewer bowed low and held me out, but my Queen did not see us. She stared around at the doors wrenched open, the clothes and papers scattered. She whirled around to the guards. ‘Some of you will be sorry for this!’ she cried.

  ‘Woof!’ I said. ‘Woof!’ I struggled down and ran to her. She picked me up. But she seemed to hardly see me.

  Sir Amyas stepped forward. ‘Calm yourself, my Lady. We have done what we had to do.’

  ‘Steal my papers? Imprison my people?’

  ‘Your people and your papers are under our Sovereign’s command. As you are, my Lady.’

  Suddenly her voice was firm again. ‘I have two things, Sir Amyas, that you cannot take from me: my royal blood and my religion. And I will keep them until my death. You may go. You all may go!’

  ‘My Lady—’

  ‘Go!’

  They left. Suddenly she seemed to notice I was in her arms. ‘Oh, Folly! Folly!’ She held me close. I licked her face and then her hands. ‘Monsieur, I thank you. For looking after my friend. For all your loyalty. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.’

  Tears were in Monsewer’s eyes too. ‘I am yours to command, Your Majesty. In any way. Always.’

  I licked her face again. ‘For the first time in fourteen days, Monsieur,’ she said, and I knew she spoke to me too, ‘I no longer find myself alone.’

  She began to sob. Footsteps pounded up the stairs. Jane burst through the door, then Master Bourgoine and Mistress Curle and some of her other people.

  ‘Madam!’ cried Jane. ‘You are safe!’

  My Queen looked up, the tears rolling down her face. ‘Where are my secretaries? Master Curle and Master Nau?’

  Mistress Curle covered her face and began to sob too. ‘They are in prison, Madam,’ said Jane. ‘In London. They won’t let us see them, talk to them.’

  ‘They will torture them!’ cried one of the other ladies, Barbara, Master Curle’s wife. She ran from the room, without even curtseying to my Queen. But my Queen didn’t frown at her. She began to cry again.

  Mistress Curle was still crying too. But she helped Jane undress my Queen and put her in her bed. Jane brought her a posset of ginger and warm wine. She drank, but couldn’t eat. Blood oozed onto her nightdress from a new sore on her shoulder.

  I never left her side, except to visit the box of straw in the garderobe, and even then I kept my ears pricked to make sure I missed nothing that might harm her.

  5 September

  I was just padding back one afternoon when Sir Amyas knocked on the outer door. He didn’t wait to be announced, but stomped, with several of his soldiers, into my Queen’s inner chamber, where she lay on her bed.

  ‘Out,’ he said to Jane and Mistress Curle.

  Jane stared at him as though he were a slug. ‘I take orders from Her Majesty.’

  My Queen struggled to sit up. ‘How dare you command my people!’

  ‘Grrr!’ I clambered onto the bed, ready to bite anyone who touched my Queen.

  Sir Amyas stuck out his chin. ‘Your people are subject to the laws of this country, which you have so shamelessly ignored.’

  Jane and Mistress Curle stood where they were. One of the soldiers moved towards them, and my Queen nodded at them to go. Jane left reluctantly, looking over her shoulder as she went through the door, as though she wished she were a dog like me and could bite Sir Amyas on the leg.

  Sir Amyas waited till they had left the room, then said, ‘My orders are to take all the money in your possession, my Lady. I must ask you for the keys to your cabinet.’

  ‘My money! You cannot think to leave me a pauper!’

  ‘Scarcely a pauper, my Lady. More will come from your estates in France—if you behave yourself. The keys.’

  ‘The woman you call your Sovereign has taken my freedom. She shall not take this!’

  ‘My Lady, I take only what you have used to bribe people and further your plots. The keys!’

  ‘No!’ she cried.

  Sir Amyas gestured to the guards behind him. ‘Break down the doors.’

  ‘You will not!’

  My Queen swung her legs off her bed. They were swollen and the veins stood out. She managed two steps and then collapsed. I jumped down to where she lay. I stood next to her, snarling at Sir Amyas.

  ‘Jane!’ It was as much a sob as a cry.

  ‘Madam!’ Jane ran back through the door, but the men stopped her with their spears. Two of them grabbed her arms.

  ‘Take your hands off me.’ Jane’s voice was colder than the snow. The men hesitated, then let her go.

  Sir Amyas turned to Jane now. ‘The keys!’

  ‘No.’

  Sir Amyas grabbed at the keys on her belt. Jane screamed. She thrust Sir Amyas away with both hands. Sir Amyas seized one of her hands, and a guard the other, then Sir Amyas tore away the keys. He strode to the cabinet and opened its door.

  ‘Grrr!’ I yelled, keeping close to my Queen in case they attacked her too.

  Jane kicked one of the guards, and bit another’s wrist. He swore, but didn’t let go.

  My Queen tried to drag herself across the floor towards Sir Amyas. Should I stay with her, I wondered desperately, or attack Sir Amyas?

  I darted from one to the other, barking madly and snapping at Sir Amyas’s ankles. He looked down at me with annoyance, then kicked me hard, in the ribs.

  I screamed. But I was Mam’s son! I grabbed his stocking and pulled, as hard as I could.

  ‘Folly!’ cried my Queen, still sprawled on the floor, as Sir Amyas drew back his other
foot to kick me again. ‘Here! Please!’

  I hesitated. I hated to let go. But she was my Mistress! I ran back to her, and stood by her as she sobbed with rage and pain on the floor. ‘Sir Amyas, I beg of you, have pity!’

  ‘I do my duty, Madam. I wish you would understand that.’

  My Queen gazed up at him. ‘Duty! To harass a woman! To ignore the claims of a queen who is a visitor in your land! Duty!’

  He had the door open now. He signalled to the men to remove the velvet bags inside. I darted towards him again. This time I managed to get my teeth into his ankle. He wrenched it away before I had a chance to do much more than tear his stocking.

  ‘Oh, good dog!’ cried Jane.

  He tasted sour. But I was proud to have his blood on my teeth.

  One of the guards grabbed me by the scruff of my neck. He held me away from him, while I tried to snap and bite. My side hurt, but I would not give in.

  My Queen crawled towards the cabinet, her skirts catching on the splinters in the floor. ‘This will kill me, Sir Amyas. Do you wish to be my death?’

  Sir Amyas didn’t answer. He began to follow the men from the room.

  ‘Sir Amyas!’ My Queen still dragged herself across the floor. Jane ran to her and helped her up, and together they staggered into the outer room after Sir Amyas and the guards carrying my Queen’s money.

  The guard put me down. I ran to my Queen. I leapt as high as I could, to try to lick her face.

  ‘Sir Amyas!’ she cried.

  But he was gone.

  CHAPTER 20

  I Sleep too Soundly to Warn My Queen

  Chartley Hall, September 1586

  There was no warning.

  One night my Queen went to her bed, as she always did after saying her prayers with her household, with Jane and Mistress Curle to undress her, and me by her side.

  Jane woke early, as she always did. She added wood to the fire, then tiptoed from the room to prepare the warm wine that my Queen used to wash her face, and the posset of toast in water to soothe her stomach which she often liked on waking.

  I slipped out of our bed and followed her to the garderobe. I needed to relieve myself more often as summer cooled. Jane smiled at me. She even bent down and scratched my ears, which I accepted. Jane and I had learned to respect each other lately.

  I trotted back to the bedchamber, turned myself round three times on the bed and nestled down to sleep again. The sheets were soft, and the bed warmed by my Queen. It was good to have peace again, I thought, our things and people around us…

  I dreamt of butterflies, and good smells beneath the trees.

  I woke the next time because my Queen sat up. ‘Jane?’ she called.

  There was no answer.

  ‘Jane? Mistress Curle?’ My Queen sounded annoyed. There was always someone there as soon as she woke up. But not today. ‘Jane!’ called my Queen again.

  The door opened. My Queen gasped. It was the man in green and gold who had taken her away before. There were guards behind him, with pikes and muskets.

  I jumped to the floor. ‘Woof!’ I yelled. ‘Woof!’

  How could I not have heard them approach? It was all my fault! I slept too soundly after our big suppers.

  I had failed my Queen!

  I ran to him and seized his leg, but all I got was a mouthful of stocking.

  ‘Madam, call your dog away!’

  ‘Folly!’

  I ran to her and jumped back onto the bed, then turned to snarl at them again. She held me close. ‘How dare you come into my chamber!’ she began.

  ‘Madam, you must dress. You are to be taken to Fotheringhay Castle in Northamptonshire.’

  ‘And why am I to be so rudely moved again?’

  ‘For your trial, Madam.’

  I felt her shiver with the shock. ‘Trial? I am an independent Sovereign. No one can try me!’

  ‘And yet, Madam, you will be tried. I suggest you dress. If you do not you will be taken as you are.’

  ‘Where are my women?’

  ‘Your servants are being held separately.’

  ‘Held? You mean imprisoned? Do you mean to try them too? Torture them?’

  ‘Dress, Madam.’

  The door shut behind them.

  My Queen forced herself off the bed and then to the garderobe. I used my straw as well. She chose one of the dresses hanging by the privy and tried to put it on, but her fingers were clumsy. I had never seen her dress herself before.

  Finally she managed. She took off her nightcap and arranged her wig. She began to smooth white onto her cheeks, as her ladies had always done. But she must have been afraid that she had done it ill, as she shook her head and wiped it off. Then she walked to the outer rooms, supporting herself on the chairs as she went.

  The man in green and gold was waiting for her. The men with muskets stood there too.

  ‘I must say goodbye—’ she began.

  ‘You will speak to no one. There are guards at the windows. If you try to signal to your people it will be the worse for them.’

  ‘Am I to be treated like a criminal?’ she cried.

  His voice was flat. ‘Yes, Madam.’

  Suddenly I understood. They were going to take her away again!

  But this time I wouldn’t let them! I barked frantically. ‘Woof! Woof!’

  The man in green and gold looked down at me. For an instant his expression softened. ‘I’m sorry, boy,’ he said. ‘You are a good dog. And this is not your fault.’

  He reached down to grab me. I tried to bite his arm but was too late. He had me by the middle. He called a guard and handed me over like a lump of wood for the fire.

  I watched my Queen walk slowly down the stairs.

  CHAPTER 21

  I Find My Queen and Please Her With My Singing

  Chartley Hall and Fotheringhay Castle, September and October 1586

  Jane ran to find me as soon as my Queen had left. She scooped me into her arms and sobbed into my fur.

  I endured it. Nothing mattered now except seeing my Queen again.

  ‘If I were a man I would cut their throats,’ cried Jane. ‘I would raise an army.’

  Mistress Curle was sobbing. ‘What will become of her? Where have they taken my brother? And Master Nau? Have they imprisoned them? Tortured them?’

  Jane’s face was white. She clutched me harder. But she made her voice seem calm. ‘We can’t think of that. We must be strong, for her sake. We can only do our duty, day by day. And now our duty is to pack, and hope they let us join her at Fotheringhay.’

  Jane put me down. I crept into a corner while they ran about the rooms; folding clothes, packing wigs and lotions, and calling men to shift the trunks. Little by little I felt my tail rise from between my legs. They were so busy, and so determined. Surely they were going to join my Queen.

  And I would be there too.

  ‘Woof!’ I yelled. I ran into the middle of the room. ‘Woof! Woof! Woof!’

  Jane lifted me and placed me on my Queen’s bed. ‘Sit,’ she commanded me.

  I was to guard the bed! And so I did, all that day, while men carried my Queen’s things down the stairs. And finally Jane lifted me and carried me down too and placed me on her lap in the carriage with her and Mistress Curle and Barbara Curle.

  The horses stamped in readiness. Then we were off.

  I jumped onto Barbara’s lap and peered out the window as we rolled down the long track from Chartley to the main road. Behind us were more carts than I had ever seen, all filled with my Queen’s things, with mules patiently pulling them after us.

  ‘Woof!’ I yelled, to tell them to keep up.

  Then I jumped back onto Jane’s lap and curled up nose to bum and waited, till we could find my Queen.

  Through a forest of trees with long autumn shadows, and then a village. I didn’t bother to look out, but I smelt the privies and the people and the stink of cabbages and beans. Then another forest, with dark trees overhead, and a city, where we stopped to
rest.

  Then on again; over muddy hills, then on to flatter land—meadows marked by hedges and stone walls.

  I was dozing on Jane’s lap, and I think Jane was dozing too against the carriage cushions, when Barbara woke us. ‘We’re nearly at Fotheringhay!’ she cried. ‘Look!’

  Jane and I peered out the window. There was a river, dark and wide, and cows and cow droppings along the road. There was a mountain too, with part of the river running all around. And then I saw that it was a castle and had the smell of people.

  We rolled across a bridge and through a courtyard and then across another bridge.

  ‘Two moats,’ whispered Jane.

  Barbara nodded. ‘No one could escape from here. No matter how many men King Philip might send, no one could rescue her from here.’

  ‘Philip has had nearly twenty years to send an army,’ said Jane scornfully. ‘If death were a Spaniard no one would ever die.’

  The stone walls reared above us. Their shadow was so deep it almost seemed like night, cutting us off from the world of day. The carriage wheels crunched on cobbles and stopped.

  I struggled to leap out the window, but Jane held me tight. A guard opened the door. I jumped down onto the muddy cobblestones and tried to smell my Queen.

  Was she here? I could smell horse droppings, men and muskets, and the dank damp smell of rats and river. Jane scooped me up again. I allowed it. I had no choice if I wanted to find my Queen.

  I could smell candles in a room on one side of us, and food on the other.

  ‘This way,’ said one of the guards. It was the first word any of them had spoken to us the whole journey.

  There was a tower on one side of the courtyard. The guard led us away from the food smell and the candle smell, and we followed, with more guards behind. There was a narrow stairway just inside the tower. The stairs were steep and slippery.

  We climbed up the first flight of stairs. The guard stopped and opened a door. It was metal, not wood, with a bolt as thick as a man’s arm.