Gradually something like a great black ball was sliding across the surface of the sun and little by little, the light blinked out. Within only a short time, the sun had gone utterly dark, with a strange pale halo of yellow haze surrounding the black ball above them.
Now people were running home, and one woman sat down in the middle of the street with a squeak and began to cry, her little white hat fell off and she managed to wipe her eyes on her fur trimmed sleeves.
A group of people were running to the nearest church, begging the priest to protect them. But the priest, in his long robes, came out to the church porch with a calming wave of both hands, to tell everyone that this was nothing terrible. It was an eclipse of the sun, and had been predicted by the wise.
“Tis the day of St. Abraham, the sixteenth day of March,” he said reassuringly. “I have known this would happen this morning, and have been waiting to see it. Most interesting.”
“Eclipses,” said a small man, “I heard of them. Folk says they bring evil tidings.”
Nathan was smiling at his friends. “Honestly,” he said quickly, “it’s quite safe. These things happen every now and again. Eclipses are quite normal.”
The darkness was strangely disquieting, and everyone was pleased when very, very gradually the black ball moved away from the light of the sun once again. The light began to flood back. Oozing out like water from a badly plugged hole, the sunshine returned.
“Gracious,” muttered Alfie. “I didn’t like that.”
“What were that round black devil thing?” asked Sam with a shiver. He had been clinging to Alice’s arm.
“The moon,” said Nathan, looking around. “It’s just the way the planets move and everything. Sometimes the moon goes past the sun and blocks it out for a little while. It’s not a devil.”
“The moon only comes out at night. Now it’s day,” complained Peter.
“And the moon is a pretty silver with light too. It’s not black. I never heard of a no black moon,” objected Alfie.
“I don’t know all the details,” Nathan shook his head, a little vague. “But it’s not a bad sign or anything. I think it’s black just because of shadows or something,”
“A portent,” said John quickly. “I reckon Alice don’t go to see the baron today. Wouldn’t be safe.”
Alice looked at each of her friends, and finally at Nathan. “You’re sure it’s safe? Not an evil sign?”
“I promise it isn’t.” But he wasn’t even sure himself. Everyone around them was rushing home, rushing into the church, or standing as if mesmerised, still staring upwards. It had left them all a little shaky. “Come on,” Nathan said, “let’s get to the cobblers. Alice can make up her mind afterwards. There’s plenty of time before dinner.”
Their shoes were ready for them, sitting in a gleaming row on the cobbler’s counter. There were soft brown leather boots for Alfie and John, with strong flat soles and black cord to tie them up around the ankle. Sam, Peter and Nathan had shining black leather shoes, tied with ribbons, and fitting perfectly. Alice had little blue leather shoes, which closed with turquoise cord.
Everyone sat and tried their shoes on, which cheered them up considerably. The feet of all their hose were already quite dirty, but once hidden inside their shoes, they all appeared very smartly dressed.
It was sunny now, and they all seemed to have forgotten the eclipse. Alice bought a comb, and Alfie bought two bright new blankets, thick and woolly, and a small pillow of feathers in a linen case. Sam thought it would be nice to have a pillow too, and even suggested they buy one for Mouse, but John said no, it was only proper for Alfie because his head and back were badly injured with all those bruises and whip slashes. “Don’t be a baby,” John told Sam. “You’s nigh growed up.”
“I’m nearly nine,” sniffed Sam. “Don’t mean I can’t have a pillow, does it?”
“We could try and get pallets with a load of straw again,” suggested Alfie. “Would be nice against that hot wall.”
“Tomorrow, perhaps,” Alice answered him. “We don’t have time today. I have to walk up to Bishopsgate. Are you all coming with me?”
“For sure,” said Peter, who was jumping up and down on the cobbles, enjoying his new shoes.
“I still reckon you shouldn’t go.” Alfie was hobbling a bit. Even his new shoes didn’t help his injured back.
But ignoring him, Alice led the way north towards the grand wide road of Bishopsgate. They grouped together, no longer feeling threatened nor risking arrest. The temporary accord with the baron had at least brought a day of peace. Alfie dragged a little behind, partially because of the pain in his back but also because of his doubts about the invitation, but Nathan walked with Alice and tried to reassure her.
He was saying, “We’ll be watching, both the front door and the back,” when four liveried guards, riding fast with a thundering pound of the horses’ hooves, pelted down Bishopsgate and into Cheapside with their heads low across the horses’ necks
Alice, Nathan, and the whole group pressed back against the edge of the road, escaping the gallop, and other folk hurried away, clamping their hands to their hats and looking worried.
“Kings men,” said one woman. “Livery of the Tower.”
“Something’s amiss.”
With the horses and their riders disappearing into the distance, people stood a moment, staring, and discussing what might have happened.
They found out when they reached Alice’s house where the great front doors stood wide. The baron, his bright red hat askew on his bright red head, came charging out, almost bumping into Alice.
He waved plump hands in the air. “No time. Have to go. Is my horse saddled? Where’s the groom?”
“It would be nice to think,” muttered Nathan, “that those Tower guards want to arrest the baron and he’s trying to run away. But,” and Nathan shook his head, “probably not.”
Realising that his step-daughter was standing startled in front of him and at his own invitation, the baron managed a lopsided and unconvincing smile. “Ah, my dear girl, I have to rush. So sorry. But go in, my brother is there waiting to meet you and will present my proposition. He knows all the details. You can trust him entirely.”
“I doubt it,” said Alice loudly, stamping one beautifully shod foot in its new blue shoe.
“Start dinner without me,” insisted the baron. “It’s all ready. Edmund is waiting for you.” His horse was being led up to the front door from the stables, led by a sulky groom, pulled away from his own dinner. The baron took the reins and struggled to raise one foot into the stirrup. He turned angrily to the groom. “Fool. Give me a hand up,” and the groom reluctantly obliged. Once mounted the baron turned back to Alice, saying, “I see you brought your maggoty little friends even when I told you not to. They can’t come in. I’m not giving them dinner. Tell them to wait in the kitchen. I shall be back as soon as I may.” And with a sweaty wave, the baron clamped his large fat knees to the horse’s rump and trotted off.
Alice and the others stood staring after him. It was the groom, scratching his head, who explained. “The Queen,” he muttered.
“The queen has invited the baron to dinner?” asked Alice, disbelieving.
“Lord no,” mumbled the groom, sidling back towards the stables and his dinner. “Poor lady’s been sick for a week or more. Now dead, she is. A lovely gracious lady she was, tis a shame. Will be hard for his majesty. I reckon they were a good pair.”
Nathan, who had no idea who the queen was, did not feel much interested, but clearly the others were moved. Alice gazed, mouth open, and told Nathan, “That’s horrible news. Queen Anne was a wonderful queen and much loved in the country. Poor lady, she lost her only son last year. Now her. The king will be devastated.”
John, making the most of his new shoes, kicked at the cobbles. “Rotten news,” he complained. “Tis the good people what dies and the pig people what goes on living.”
“Well, I won’t die yet,” said Alfie, ca
tching up and leaning heavily on the hedge. “But tis good news if the baron ain’t here.”
“His brother is just as bad,” Alice said. “But I’d better go in and face him.”
Chapter Ten
Edmund Darling greeted his visitor with a delighted swaying of chins, stomach and hands. The news of the queen’s death did not affect him since he had never met her and had no court position, but he was secretly pleased that his brother had been called away, and he could therefore make his own private declarations to his prospective bride.
“Ah, my dear young lady, this is such a pleasure.” He bowed slightly, although it made his knees twinge, and it seemed absolutely absurd to bow to a raggedy female in a dirty old dress, no fur cape, and her hair in tangles.
Alice frowned and said nothing.
The dining table was set to impress. Goblets of shining pewter, platters of painted earthenware, spoons and knives of polished steel, and huge wooden trenchers of white bread rolls and piled marzipan candies. The tablecloth was spotless linen, and a dozen perfumed candles were lit in the chandelier above. Pages stood behind the two high chairs, and Alice sat, looking around her with suspicion. She recognised all the linen and cutlery, plates and grandeur, for each and every piece had once belonged to her father, and by rights now belonged to her. But she took a deep breath, saying, “It is extremely sad about her majesty. Now the whole court will go into mourning.”
This was not what Edmund wished to talk about. He reached over and patted her hand, and Alice quickly took her hands from the table and tucked both neatly on her lap and out of sight. The steward Lacey open the doors from the kitchen and half a dozen young servers brought in the platters heaped with food. Perfumes of roast suckling pig and venison, pickled onions, custards and honeyed tarts filled the large dining hall. Alice had eaten pottage that morning, but after a couple of years eating next to nothing, this feast made her mouth water.
She permitted the boys to serve her, shook her head at the wine and accepted light cider instead, and, keeping her eyes firmly on her plate, began to eat.
Edmund Darling watched her in annoyance. “We have a lot to talk about, my dear lady,” he said, mouth full of venison. “I’m delighted to see that you enjoy my choice of platters, but our discussion is the most important subject.” She ignored him and he sighed. Meat juices dribbled as he spoke. “Come back here to live, and you shall eat like this every day of the year.”
Looking up for the first time, Alice’s eyes glittered. “Then I’d be as fat as you,” she said.
Edmund spluttered, wine goblet to his lips. “Very humorous,” he managed to say, quickly wiping his chin with his napkin. “But my offer is quite serious, my dear Alice. I have long – admired – and cared for you. From a distance of course. And because of your age, I felt it wrong to proclaim my ardent sentiments too quickly.”
Alice giggled. “I think we should talk about the possible agreement, without pretending anything else,” she said at once. “I know quite well that you don’t care for me, Edmund, and you know that I really don’t like you at all.” She was now so full of marzipan and roast suckling pig that she could hardly move, so she sat a little forward and smiled. “But I realise that we can both benefit from a marriage, and I’m willing to think about it.”
Immediately Edmund’s chins waggled and he smiled widely. “Delightful, my dear, how honest. And how true. It’s agreed then?”
“On several conditions,” said Alice, “And I’m not willing to negotiate. It’s all or nothing.” She looked over her shoulder and waved away the page who was waiting to refill her platter. “Privacy first.” And once all the servants, including the steward, had left, she continued. “This is my house, not the baron’s,” she said quietly, leaning forwards again. “And if we marry, then it will be yours too. And all my wealth and property. Yes, I know I’m an heiress, and I know you want my money. Well, we can share it, but only once your revolting brother has left and stopped being my guardian.”
“Your mother made him your legal guardian before she died,” Edmund grumbled. Not my fault, I should point out. And not something in my power to change.”
“Oh, yes it is,” Alice insisted. “Tell him I’ll marry you only once he leaves this house, surrenders his guardianship, stops stealing my money, and leaves me free to marry you as I intend.”
She was aware that a small nose under blond curls was pressed to the long window in front of her, and tried hard not to laugh. Edmund Darling had his back to the window, but she worried that he might look behind him. The little face at the window bobbed up and down, and suddenly stuck its tongue out with a smirk. Alice clamped her hand over her mouth.
Edmund was talking. “It’s an attractive idea, but I doubt my brother would agree.” He lowered his voice. “Lacey will be listening at the door, you know. Have to whisper.” Which is what he did. “Have to discuss this with my brother. But pretty sure he won’t agree.”
“Tell him,” said Alice very loudly, “That it’s the only way I’ll agree to marry you.”
With a sneer, but still in a whisper, Edmund told her, “He can force you, you know. Not too hard, under the circumstances.”
“Wrong.” Alice lifted her chin and glared back at him. “I’m not as weak as you seem to think, and not as stupid either. And if you threaten me again, I shall walk out and go directly to the sheriff.”
Sam and John were hovering beside the front doors to the house, peering in at the windows, while Alfie, Nathan and Peter stayed alert at the back where the doors to the kitchens were also firmly shut. The steward was certainly not permitting entrance to any of the dirty urchins his master had told him to chase away. But chasing away seemed impossible since there were five of them, all faster on their feet than Lacey. Besides, the steward knew very well that both the baron and his brother were trying to appear friendly to the Lady Alice.
Nathan, sitting on the back step with his head in his hands, elbows on his knees, was feeling gloomy. “Everybody thinks there was an evil omen and then the queen died. What’s worse than that? But if something horrid happens to Alice, then it’ll be my fault.”
“It’ll be that baron’s fault.” Alfie was sitting next to him, hunched over and trying to ease his back.
“If Alice isn’t out to meet us by two o’clock, we should try and break in,” suggested Nathan.
“And how do we know when it’s two of the clock?” Peter asked. “There’s no big clocks around here, not even sundials.”
There was certainly nothing wrong with the sunshine now, and it spread a hazy golden light over the paths and hedges, bushes and trees at the back of the house, leading to the stable courtyard where some of the horses were snorting and kicking at the doors of their stalls, clearly restless. Presumably, all the grooms were having dinner, probably in the hayloft.
Alfie said, with a snort rather like the horses, “Bet Alice is having food fit fer a king. And I’m proper starving. I can smell that roast meat. I can just imagine them slices of pork and crunchy crackling.”
“Bet the king’s not eating food fit for a king,” mumbled Peter. “Bet he’s sobbing his heart out.”
Had they heard what Edmund Darling was saying at that moment, they would have been considerably more worried.
Back in the lofty dining hall with its high beamed ceiling, Edmund was sitting at the table, his chair pushed back and his legs stretched out as his stomach swelled, belching and overflowing with venison and pork, leeks in cream and onions in butter, marzipan and jellies, flavoured custards and honey syrups. “Have to admit,” he said, still keeping his voice extremely quiet, “my brother wanted me to keep you here today, you know. Was going to drag you and me straight into the chapel. Has a priest waiting. His own personal confessor, Father Michael, I expect you remember him. All ready to pronounce us wed. Has a special permission from the priest not to call the banns. With witnesses, being him and the priest. No secret wedding, but not what you might call a public ceremony.”
; Standing in a hurry, Alice scraped back her chair so fast, it tumbled over with a crash. Lacey, eavesdropping outside, was startled and got the hiccups. Furious, Alice said, “That’s disgusting. How dare you.”
“Him, not me,” said Edmund complacently. “I’ll not do it, don’t worry. I don’t want no prisoner for a wife. But I expect a proper promise from you, and one you’ll keep.”
“I’ve told you,” Alice said, throwing down her napkin and walking towards the main doors. “Get your horrid brother out, and I’ll agree to marry you. If you like I’ll promise and I’ll promise to keep my promise. But no baron! Not here, not anywhere close. I want no guardian and no Lacey either. He’s nearly as bad as my step-father.”
There was a slight bang from beyond the side door to the kitchens, as if someone had tripped over and Alice guessed who it was.
But she did not step to the kitchen door, she marched to the front. Opening the double front doors, the sunshine streamed in and both John Ten-Toes and Sam were waiting there, grinning. “Quick, round the back to get them others,” John said. “Go call them, Sam. Then we can run home again afore more big black balls go messing up the sun.”
“Run.”
“No need to run,” said Alice. “Edmund couldn’t run as far as the privy. But I’m leaving at once.”
The difference in comfort between the little empty cellar with its tiny central fire and one meagre pot of stew, no beds, no chairs and no table, and the contrasting grandeur of the Bishopsgate house, its cushions and carpets, huge fireplace and chandeliers, was too obvious to ignore. Alice flopped down on the bare floor and sighed.
She said, “It was lovely being in my old home again. It reminded me of my happy childhood. But I’m not sure it’s going to work.” She turned to Alfie. “And you were right, the baron planned on keeping me prisoner and dragging me to the little chapel to marry his brother against my will. Our old priest Michael had agreed, and if I ever get home safely, I shall tell him to leave and go back to his monastery.”
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