A Traveller in Time (29 page)

The great kitchen was decked with boughs of fir and scarlet-berried holly and many a branch of bay. From a central hook in the beam hung a round bunch of holly and mistletoe intermingled with ribbons, and garlands swung in loops across the walls. “The Kissing Bunch” Dame Cicely called the ball of berries and bade me beware of standing under it, for at Christmas every one, young lords and all, would clip and kiss those maids they caught under its shadow. I noticed that Tabitha and Margery and Phoebe loitered much under the bunch that day.

Then Aunt Cicely pulled herself up from her chair and got to the baking, for spiced breads were wanted, and I filled the bread-oven with dry wood ready for her. Mistress Babington came to the kitchen, but she was too delicate and frail to help as was the custom of the lady of the house. She nodded to me and told Dame Cicely that somebody was ill of fever in the village, and Tabitha must take calf's-foot jelly and an infusion of borage which she would prepare. There were chines and strings of hogs'-puddings to go to the cottages and loaves of new bread for the widows and venison haunches for the goodmen at the farms. She took some dried herbs from the bunches which hung on the walls and reached for the pestle and mortar. Then away she went to the still-room and shut the door.

“I have work for Penelope's fingers,” said Dame Cicely, and she gave me instructions. I went to the hen-house to collect the eggs for the marchpane and sweetmeats. I took a basket and the keys and crossed the yard, but Francis came up, calling to me, just as if he had seen me every day, without a word of our last meeting.

“Come and see the Yule log, Penelope!” He showed me an enormous log which four men had dragged up to the barn. All the village would come to Thackers on Christmas Day, he said, to eat the roast beef and drink the mulled ale, and they would be asked to the hall to watch the Yule log burn and drink healths, the poorer sorts in barley ale, the farmers in sack and canary wine.

Then there would be gifts of food and woollen stuffs, and some of them would bring presents to Anthony. All would be on an equality, with singing and music and play-acting, dressed in garments from the oak chest where I had found my tunic, he added.

There would be church in the morning, and then the great feast, and I must come too, he said, no slipping away.

At their own table there would be wild boar, from the hills of the north, for boars did not live near Thackers, only deer and gentle beasts were there. Each year a wild boar was sent to Anthony Babington by the lord of Haddon, and from its flesh were made brawns and jellies, but the head and shoulders would be roasted in the kitchen and borne into the hall by the oldest man on the estate, John Darbishire, the bearded old man I had seen at the table one day. Already it hung in the killing house. It was a fine beast with long tusks and thick bristles. Would I like to see it?

Its head would be decked with a wreath of bay and rosemary. They would sing carols, and as John Darbishire carried in the boar's head he would sing in his piping ancient voice:

and all would then join in with:

“We are all joyful,” said Francis. “We share our pleasures, and you will be with us, Penelope. You will hear the villagers come a-wassailing on Christmas Eve, too, and they will enter and drink our barley brew. That's why we have such a great baking and brewing before Christmastide.”

“This will be a glorious Christmas,” he added, sitting down on a stool in the barn, and drawing up another for me. He looked round, not a soul was there beside ourselves. “The work goes on”, said he, “and the underground passage is over a mile long.” Then he began to laugh, and he threw back his head with merriment.

“Anthony has seen the queen. It was as good as a play. He dyed his face and hands with walnut juice, and put on a pair of old torn leather breeches and a ragged jerkin. In his ears he wore brass ear-rings, and he darkened his eyebrows and his hair. Oh, you should have seen the sight he was, with his gold hair dipped in a bowl of walnut juice, Anthony the fastidious dandy! Nobody knew him. Mistress Babington screamed when he entered the hall! He carried a pedlar's pack heaped with ribbons and trinkets, silver beads and glass baubles, and a pomander of silver wire, some of the things so pretty Mistress Babington longed to have them. There were special things too, fit for a queen, silver toys, such as Her Grace loves, buttons of enamel and gold for her dress, seed-pearls for her broideries and bunches of silks and tinsels. Then he set off with his pack of gewgaws, and we had a to-do to get him out of the house safely, for Tabitha saw him and wanted to buy from the strange gipsy fellow, and he had to stop and speak in half-French, to bewilder her, and let her buy a ribbon before he got away. But she never suspected!

“He got to Wingfield, and then entered the little west door, where the servants go, the nearest door to Thackers, too. In he went, without any question, and soon he came to the hall, following after the servants and the crowd of rascals and fools which went in and out of the serving rooms. He got to the queen, by showing his goods and speaking of the pretty trinkets he had for the rich and mighty. Her Grace sent for him, and Sir Ralph Sadleir saw him and bought some of his things. When he was with the queen he whispered a word in her ears, and she sent her women away. Then he gave her the letters, and received others from her, and told her of the plan of escape but not the whereabouts of the tunnel. She was full of courage, full of hope, her eye sparkled, she was ready for anything. Like a young boy, she was filled with adventure, and Anthony came back most encouraged, so much so that I feared he would do something rash.

“He walked boldly out of Wingfield, and kissed the serving wenches, who were loath to let him depart, but he came over the hills in the evening and crept into Thackers at dusk. He removed the stains as best he could, but that took him much longer than he expected and we feared he must be a gipsy all his life!”

Francis fumbled in his pocket and brought out a ribbon.

“I bought this for your dark locks, from the gipsy's pack, Lady Greensleeves,” said he. “Put it on, and wear it for me.”

It was a crumpled green ribbon, stiff with silver thread and laced with silver love-knots, and I tied it in a fillet round my head. As I thanked him I heard Aunt Cicely calling impatiently, and I sprang to my feet.

“Penelope! Where is the wench? Art' helping the hens to lay the eggses?”

I hurriedly collected all the eggs I could find, fifty or more, and ran back to the house.

“Where did you get that pretty ribbon, Penelope?” asked Tabitha. “Ah, you needna tell me. Your blushes are enow. Master Francis gave it you, and he got it from the pedlar's pack. That was a queer gipsy as came round here, and I wish he had stopped longer. He had the loveliest things ever I saw, and he was as handsome a man as ever I saw either. Dark skin and black hair and blue eyes.”

“You liked him better than Tom Snowball, didn't you, Tabitha?” teased Margery. “He was a pretty fellow with a fine leg, wasn't he?”

“I won't deny it,” Tabitha tossed her head and then gave a sigh. “But that's a lovely ribbon, Penelope, and it suits you well and matches your green smock.”

Mistress Babington came out of her still-room and went to the storeroom for tall waxen candles for the altar, and I polished the beautiful silver candlesticks. The bellringers rang their peal of bells, and the deep clashing sound of it went over the hills, joining with bells in far valleys. I thought of the queen sitting in her room with her ladies, listening to the bells' message of goodwill on earth, and then kneeling in her private chapel. What did she pray for? Freedom? But what else? Did she ask for vengeance for those long years of imprisonment, and did God listen to prayers for revenge?

There was to be midnight mass for Master Anthony and his wife and Mistress Foljambe who had arrived at Thackers for Christmas. Fresh straw had already been taken to the church to keep the feet of the congregation warm, and I carried my candlesticks there. When I returned to the kitchen Dame Cicely was already making the marchpane, a great bowl of almonds powdered in the mortar, pots of honey, some flour and many eggs all mixed together to a stiff paste, ready for moulding.

“Thou shalt make it into a device out of thine own head, Penelope,” said Dame Cicely, as she worked the yellow mass together.

“A horseman came two days ago with letters from France, and Master Anthony and Father Hurd have been deciphering them,” she whispered to me. “Now Master Anthony has gone to Wingfield to try to bribe a servant to get them through to the queen.”

“What do you think about it?” I asked, half timidly, for I was shy to interfere in such weighty matters.

“I say ‘God save Queen Elizabeth', but I would like the poor Scottish queen, who has seen such terrible trouble, to be safe and sound overseas,” said Aunt Cicely, and she pressed the mixture together and bound it with the eggs. “It's a dreadful life to be imprisoned when you are young and beautiful and to be kept there for twenty years. She is a great lady, used to every luxury, with the most beautiful jewels and clothes and furniture, and there she is, living with her women, clothed in plain dresses, in a lonely country house, and no music or dancing or companionship.”

“Will they get her away?” I whispered, for my cruel knowledge was dim and lost in memory, and the present was bright and hopeful, like the wreaths of bay and holly.

“I hope so, my sweeting. We are staking all upon it. But don't worry your pretty head, Penelope. Get to your pastry-shaping, for you've got clever fingers and can make roses and lilies to the life. There's jars of colourings ready for you.”

I worked hard, making leaves and flowers for the giant pasties and pies which Dame Cicely had prepared ready for cooking. Then I started on the marchpane, and I decided to make a model of Thackers and the church and tower in the sweet almond paste to surprise my aunt and Mistress Babington. First I modelled the buildings and tower, and marked the long windows and set the fifteen shields round the sides of the tower, and showed the carvings round the doorway. Then I set to work on the house, with its porch and little mullioned windows, but as I worked I found my mind wandering, so that I made Thackers as it is, not as it was at that day. The shields were broken, the house was smaller, and farm buildings stood where once were servants' rooms.

“You've done it wrong, Penelope,” said Tabitha leaning over me. “The church and the tower are beautiful, but the shields are broken, and you've missed out the south parlour and the wing.”

Dame Cicely came to look. She bent over it a long time, while I moulded a little green rose-tree with tiny red roses, and I twisted the tree up the house porch and placed the rosettes of flowers on the boughs. It was my Aunt Tissie's rose-tree I had made, and Dame Cicely touched it with her blunted finger.

“There isn't enough marchpane to do all the house,” she excused my work to Tabitha. “This little manor house is well enough. The haystacks and church are there, true as life, but I'm sorry you spoiled the shields, Penelope. The rest will amuse the mistress and delight Master Francis. You've done it beautiful, with porch and chimleys and as beauteous a rose-tree as ever I seed.”

Then Jude came over to look. He clapped his hands and crowed and threw back his head. He took my hand and kissed it, as if he thanked me for letting him into a secret of the future. But I couldn't help myself. My fingers refused to work differently, I had made Thackers as I knew it.

We set the great confection on its wooden board to be dried and set in the cooled bread-oven.

“It's like one of the marchpane sweetmeats they make at Hardwick Hall for the Earl and Countess Bess”, said Tabitha.

“There can't be a better one at Greenwich Palace for Queen Elizabeth herself,” said Phoebe, who had left her spinning to come and see.

“Jude has been promoted,” Dame Cicely told me, as I helped with the mincepies, and marked them with the sign of the cross. “He's been promoted to be Master Francis's own man. The young gentleman never had a servant of his own, and Master Anthony offered him the lad after Jude saved your life. So he's all decked out in a new livery, very fine, and he seems to understand all Master Francis says, reading his lips, and even reading his thoughts we think. It's Jude's reward.”

Jude watched her speaking, and nodded his head and pointed to his silver buttons and fine new coat, much finer than that which Francis wore, I thought. Then he took my hand again and kissed it, and I laughed and stroked his head.

“Go now and see if Mistress Babington wants anything. She likes you to wait on her, Penelope. And you will see the fine decorations, which she has done herself.”

I went into the panelled hall, and curtsied to Mistress Babington, who was singing softly to herself at the virginal. The room was beautiful with leaves and berries hanging in circular wreaths and long twining garlands along the walls, symmetrical and correctly even, unlike the freedom of the boughs in the kitchen. At the far end of the room was a table laid for the Christmas Eve feast, spread with a white linen cloth and set with silver and glass and shining pewter plates, each engraved with the Babington arms. On a raised dais was a table lighted with red candles ready for the marchpane Thackers. A great fire blazed on the hearth and the flames were reflected in the thousand mirrors of holly leaves and berries, so that the air was dancing with spots of brightness.

Mistress Babington smiled and signed to me to stay still, while she went on with her singing.