Anne of the Fens (5 page)

When I reached the second floor, there was a dim light, and I saw that someone had left a candle guttering on the mantel. Now I could see my way. There seemed to be nobody about, and I walked as quietly as I could to the fireplace.

I had noticed before that the rabbit was slightly more polished than the other carvings, as though people had reached out to touch it for many years; I had thought for luck, but perhaps it was something else. I touched the ears and nothing happened. I tried to wiggle them backwards and forwards, in every possible direction, but they did not move. Then I tried pulling them as though I were going to lift the rabbit off the mantel. I felt them move, just a little, and I heard a slight sound to my left. My heart leapt. I could not see anything. The walls of the room, like most of the castle, were covered with tapestries to brighten the walls and make them warmer in winter. Perhaps there was something under the tapestry?

I was frightened of what I might find, and frightened that somebody might come, but I lit my candle from the one on the mantel, lifted the tapestry on the left, closest to the fireplace, and moved under it.

It was hard to breathe, under the dusty hanging, as I crept along. And then I found a door. There was a door! Just a shabby little door, and it was ever so slightly ajar, as though a latch had been released when I pulled the rabbit ears. I gave it a little push, and it moved an inch or so, creaking loudly. I took a deep breath and pushed it hard.

It was a small room with a small window. I could faintly smell the necessary in the corner. I held the candle up and I could see that the walls were covered with faded red hangings, so dilapidated that shreds of them were falling on the floor. There was a bed in the corner, with wool blankets on it, and a stool. Under the window a large oak chest stood, much like the one in our room, but covered with strange carvings. Men and beasts were fighting, and the roots of trees trapped all of them. It was the only place in the room where books could be hidden, yet I felt uncomfortable approaching it.

I told myself not to be fanciful, put the candle on the floor, and knelt before the chest. The lid was heavy. I struggled, using my weight to push it up. The lid hit the stone wall with a bang, and I saw revealed perhaps twenty books.

Here was the treasure! I began to pull them out, holding them close to the candle so I could read the titles.
The Decameron
,
The Poems of Sappho
, Chaucer's
Canterbury Tales
, Horace's
Odes
, a slim book called
Tis Pity She's a Whore
, and a few other thin books that I knew could not be what I wanted.

There were only a few left, on the bottom. I took the largest, bound in brown leather.
The First Folio: Works of Wm Shakespeare,
flickered in gold on the front.

I put the book on the bed and lay next to it, holding the candle in one hand. It was too awkward, so I closed the trunk, placed Shakespeare on it, and put the candle on the trunk as well. By pulling the stool up to the trunk, I could read. I had no thought of bringing the book away. I could barely carry it and there was no place I could hide it.

There were many plays. I found
Romeo and Juliet
and discovered the place where I had left off, at the fair. Soon I was totally absorbed. When I got to the ending tears streamed down my face. I was happy.

Then I went back to the beginning, which I had missed as well, and read about Romeo, and how he had loved another before he met Juliet. It was cool in the room, and I hugged my knees under my long shift to keep warm. Just as I got to the place where they were meeting at the dance, I glanced up and realized it was getting light outside.

I wanted so much to know what would happen at the dance. It reminded me of the young man at the fair.

Reluctantly, I closed the book. I replaced all the books in the chest, pulled the door shut, and made my way back, the fabric of the tapestry scratching against my face. The return in the partial light was easier than my dark journey down. When I got to the room, Patience was asleep, and I tried not to disturb her, but the instant I sat on our straw mattress to swing my legs up she was wide awake. I told her everything, about the secret room and the play, and by the time I had finished there was scarcely any point in going to sleep.

C
HAPTER
S
EVEN

W
HEN WE GOT
up, it was time for morning prayers. Because the whole town was grieving for the Earl, we went across the way to the village church, instead of our usual services in the castle chapel.

We made a procession with the Earl's sister, Lady Arbella, and her husband leading the way; then Lady Elizabeth, the Earl's mother, escorted by one of her other sons who had arrived in the night after hearing the news; then the Earl's wife and children; and then Father and Mother and Simon. Finally, Sarah and Patience and Baby Mercy and I came, and behind us the personal servants to the Earl and his family.

We walked along the moat. The smell was terrible, in spite of the two channels cut into it to carry the waste water away. The channels were very narrow, only about a foot and a half wide, too narrow to allow intruders access to the castle by boat. My brother Sam, however, had used the channels a year or two ago, to escape from the castle when he wanted to go out at night and knew our parents would not let him. He would wait until dark, drop from his room on a rope tied to the window, and go to his tiny punt, hidden under the weeds near the outdoor kitchen.

Sam and a friend from the village used to take the boat through the fens. He had told me that he could get to the River Bain, and then to the Witham, which runs all the way to Boston, though it required a lot of poling through weeds. There was a tavern on the river that he and Charles favored over the one at the castle village. If they became rowdy, Father would have less chance of hearing about it. I thought of all this when I saw the corner of the punt peeking out from the weeds. I wondered whether Sam had heard the news about the Earl, at college, and if he would come home.

We walked through the castle yard and over the moat on the drawbridge into the outer yards of the castle village — past the stables, the carriage house, the housing for the guards, and some abandoned buildings from earlier times.

Then we were in the village proper, where the tenant farmers had their huts. We went by the tavern, the blacksmith, the ironmonger, and Davey's bakery where I sometimes went for a roll. The smell of baking bread and the scent of some early wild roses helped to mask the smell of the moat.

As I entered the church with Sarah's hand in mine, I looked up and saw a spot of rat-brown color from the corner of my eye. I turned to see, standing at some distance, the beggar man from the fair. He was with the villagers hanging about the tavern. I had not thought of him in days, but there he was. I stopped dead in my tracks, Sarah stumbled and pulled my arm, and I almost fell. When I looked again the beggar was gone. Sarah called me a niggle-headed puppy, but my mind was in another place.

The service was mournful. We sang two sad hymns, and the Reverend spoke about how, in the end, God sets everything right. I wondered. If God is so just and powerful, how did it happen that the Earl would be taken from his family, leaving us in grief? I offered up a prayer from my heart for the Earl, his family, and us all. I watched a bat as it swirled through the dark part of the belfry. When the minister was finished, the Earl's family left first, then my father, then Simon, and then I pushed in front of the others, leaving Sarah to fend for herself. I looked around for the beggar man and could not find him. I thought I saw a flash of brown round the tavern, but that was all.

Rufus, a small boy with bright-red hair, a son of one of the tenants, came forward and said something to my father that I could not hear. Father's voice was gruff. He turned to Simon, who followed Rufus behind the tavern.

I tried to follow, but Mother spoke sharply to me, and I had to come back. We returned to the castle and climbed the stairs to breakfast. After some time Simon appeared, went to Father at the head of the table, leaned over, and spoke into his ear. I could hear only one word, “man,” which told me nothing. Father pushed his plate away and rose abruptly. Without saying a word, the two of them left the rest of us sitting there.

Mother had to tell me to finish the bread and cheese on my plate.

W
HEN WE WERE
excused, I immediately went down to the library for my lessons. Simon was nowhere to be found. Since Raleigh's
History
was gone, I found a book of verse and sat there turning the pages, seeing nothing. Finally Simon appeared, looking distracted.

“What is happening?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Simon said.

“Something is going on.”

No matter what I said, Simon would tell me nothing. Finally he said, “Stop asking.”

I hated when Simon acted as a father. It was all right when I was a child, but now I felt I should be treated like an equal. I wanted to leave the room, slamming the door, but I did not dare.

I sat and stared angrily at my book. Why wouldn't he tell me?

Later in the afternoon I helped Mother stuff a pillow with goose feathers. It was a rare, sunny day without a cloud, and we sat outside. It was hot, and I had bits of feather sticking to all of my clothes and hair. I felt as if I were stewing like a capon. Then I remembered that I had just found a secret room and read a secret play. I did not need my family to include me, in order to find excitement. I could go back to the room that very night and read the beginning of
Romeo and Juliet,
which I had missed.

I was tired from the night before, but I was also tired of worrying about my health. I would just do it. I finished stitching up the pillow, and as Simon walked by, I threw it at him. He jumped, then tossed it back to me. Mother told me to be more ladylike.

That night, when Patience and I went to bed, I did not tell her of my plans. I stayed awake for a bit and felt myself dozing off. Wake up at two! Wake up at two! I said to myself.

I
WOKE WHEN
the church clock struck two. I was pleased with myself, although I don't know how I did it.

I got out of bed silently, took our unlit candle, and retraced the journey I had made the night before, which seemed easier this night. As I walked down the dark halls, I thought I heard someone behind me. I hid behind the closest tapestry, stifling a cough from the dust. It sounded like footsteps in the large room and then the noise stopped. After a bit I told myself I had imagined it, or that it was only mice.

I emerged from the tapestry and walked slowly in the dark along the wall to the stairs. Then I went down to the fireplace, found a candle burning again, and lit my own. Once there was light, I saw the rabbit ears. I pulled the tapestry back from the walls and stepped under. When I reached the door I paused for a moment, feeling proud, then pushed the door open with a dramatic shove. It banged on the wall behind.

There was a loud noise, a sort of curse, something on the bed moved, and I was thrust against the wall with a large hand choking my neck and a knife raised over my head. Angry eyes, dark blue, stared into mine for an instant till I dropped the candle.

I heard a laugh. My neck was released, and I sank to the floor, sitting with my back against the wall. My knees were too weak to stand.

“Only a girl.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I would rather know who you are.”

He had somehow caught my candle, which thankfully had not gone out. He held it above my head as he studied me.

“I am Anne Dudley, daughter of Thomas Dudley.”

I tried to sound dignified, but it was hard to be dignified sitting on the floor in my shift, my voice breaking from the tension.

He was also in his shift. I had never been so close to a man, before, with so few clothes between us. The smell of his body, when he had shoved me against the wall, was like garden herbs in the sun, and made me feel dizzy.

He was a young man, in his early twenties. He had obviously been asleep, and his long, dark hair was all askew. He had not shaved in several days. I had never seen a man so handsome.

“Well, sit down on my stool.”

The hand that pulled me from the floor was strong and hard. I settled myself on the stool, pulling my shift down over my legs as far as it would go. I felt his eye upon me and knew I was blushing. He put the candle on the floor and sat on his bed among the rumpled blankets. His shift was short, and I could see a great deal of his muscular legs with their dark hair.

“You have not told me who you are.”

He did not reply for a moment.

“It could be dangerous to know me,” he said then.

“I already know you.”

I was not quite sure what I meant but the feeling of his hand, as he had pulled me up, and the sweet smell of his body...

He smiled, and even in the dim light his face changed entirely, from fierce, hard lines to something softer.

“I am John Holland.”

“Oh.” I knew the name. “You are the Earl's Steward for his home at Sempringham.”

We had stayed at Sempringham some years ago, before Father had moved the family to Boston. It was one of the Earl's properties, the ruins of an old monastery, with two lovely houses built around it. Mother much preferred Sempringham to the castle. When Father was not available, the Earl hired John Holland as his Steward.

“What are you doing here in this secret room? Are you the secret my father and Simon have been whispering about?”

He nodded. “Probably. I'm hiding from the Sheriff.”

He explained that it was he who had written the tract, circulated everywhere, about how no one should pay an unlawful tax. It was the paper posted in the market last Sunday. When the King had sent out the warrant for the Earl, he had also made out a warrant for John.

“So you think no one should pay the tax?”

He got up from the bed and began to pace up and down in the little room, swinging his arms. If the King had been there he should have had a bloody nose, I was sure.