At the House of the Magician (8 page)

BOOK: At the House of the Magician
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‘I doubt it,’ she said, ‘for that pribbling foot-licker, Kelly, eats with the master nearly every day and will certainly consume every morsel he can lay his hands on.’

‘Kelly is the younger man who works with Dr Dee?’

She nodded. ‘I don’t know why he doesn’t move in,’ she said sourly, ‘for he’s here all day and every day a-writing of his charts and pretending to see this and that. The mistress cannot abide him!’

‘So both gentlemen seek to speak with the dead?’ I asked breathlessly.

Mistress Midge gave the duck a vigorous turn on its spit. ‘It strikes me, my girl, that you ask far too many questions for a servant.’

I felt myself redden. ‘You may be right,’ I said. ‘My ma always said I was far too curious.’

The two little girls were under the table, rolling a ball backwards and forwards along its length while Tom-fool ran between them. Suddenly Merryl spoke.

‘They
do
speak with angels,’ she said. ‘There are two of them who come regularly. One is one called Madimi and the other, Celeste. They tell Papa secrets.’

‘And how does Papa see these angels?’ I asked, looking eagerly under the table.

‘They are viewed in a crystal called a show-stone,’ the child answered.

Mistress Midge banged a trencher of bread down on the table. ‘Enough! ’Tis not for us to know such things!’ she said, and Tom-fool shrieked with laughter, as if he understood her words.

‘It isn’t Papa who sees and hears them,’ Merryl went on nonetheless, ‘but Mr Kelly, and then he tells Papa what they’ve said.’

‘They are trying to get the angels to appear to both of them, to tell them how to do certain special things,’ put in Beth. ‘Like how to make gold.’

‘They’d be better off making groats with the queen’s head on,’ Mistress Midge snorted, ‘then we could pay our debts and have a roast duck each!’

Chapter Seven

Within a few weeks I’d settled quite happily into the Dee household and it felt as if I’d been there much longer. I missed my ma, but Mistress Midge – scold that she was – in some ways filled that role. I missed my father too and was more than happy to do so, for it meant I also missed going hungry because he’d drunk all we’d earned from our glove-making, and missed feeling his clenched hand fall with a heavy thump on to my head.

I felt so at ease in the magician’s house that I’d even stopped being frightened of going into the library. The strange objects no longer scared me and as neither the room nor its contents were held in any kind of reverence by the children, we would play there almost as happily as if on the riverbank. As for the books, well, once Beth had taken down some of the great volumes and showed me they were just letters within words
which worked together to make up a story, I stopped being afraid of them, too. I even started to think that it might be a fine thing to know how to read, for then all the knowledge in the world was available to you and whatever you were curious about could be discovered. Sometimes when Dr Dee was out, I’d slip into the library for a moment and just stare around me, gently touch the shells, corals, vases or strange roots on the shelves and approach the skull to try and overcome my fears of it.

One item that specially intrigued me in the room was the brass-banded chest, for it was beautifully made and seemed costly, as if it was like to contain something of great import. The padlock was always closed upon it, however, and there was no sign of a key, so I could only imagine what was within. Treasure, perhaps? Strands of pearls, sparkling stones and shiny gold coins? But then surely it couldn’t contain such things, or the household wouldn’t remain so poor.

Whether Dr Dee and Mr Kelly were true magicians, I had yet to discover. I’d received a message from Mistress Dee to say that the doctor had asked a spirit about my stolen clothes and had been informed by this ethereal being that they’d been taken to London and sold at a street market there, but I had no way of knowing if this was correct.

Sometimes, when Mr Kelly was in attendance or Dr Dee was casting a chart for someone, the children were given a warning not to interrupt and the door was
locked against them. Standing outside the door at these times, I’d oft hear a strange chanting similar to that which I’d heard on my first night there. Once, finding the door had not been fully closed, I looked through the gap and saw Mr Kelly kneeling on the floor with Dr Dee standing beside him, holding a parchment. Both gentlemen were turned away from me and Mr Kelly was saying, ‘I see her! I see Madimi. She’s speaking … she is telling you to beware of being abroad on the fifteenth of the month, for it’s an evil day.’

‘Indeed!’ Dr Dee said, and he appeared to write this down.

‘And now she seems to be holding something out to you.’

‘What is it?’ Dr Dee asked him eagerly.

‘A gemstone. One ruby, crimson as a berry. She tells me that she’ll soon have the means to deliver it to your hand.’

‘Is it large?’

‘Very large! And it glows from within! It’s worth a great deal of money – I can tell that from the size.’

I put my eye to the crack in the door (which, I confess, was very low conduct indeed), and stared intensely at where Mr Kelly was staring, but couldn’t see or hear anything at all.

One day the children and I had the whole afternoon to ourselves, for Dr Dee and his wife, together with Mistress Allen, had gone to Richmond to take the new
child, being now near two months old, to its wet nurse. A carriage had been hired for this purpose, and this had two horses in front like a cart but was somewhat grander, with seats at the back for four persons and a waterproof covering against the weather. We’d seen them off (Mistress Dee weeping a waterfall of tears at the thought of being parted from her beloved child) and then, with Mistress Midge happily occupied chatting with a neighbour, the children and I had begun a game of hide-and-seek about the house.

There could be no dwelling ever built which could better the magician’s house for such a game, and although, of course, Tom-fool didn’t understand (staying hushed while we hid, but often becoming wildly excited and giving away the whereabouts of whoever he was hiding with as soon as anyone entered the room), Beth, Merryl and I were happily occupied for more than two hours, using cupboards, empty rooms and dark corners to conceal ourselves in, wrapping ourselves in bed drapes, hiding under beds and tables, and climbing in and out of wooden chests.

Once, when it was my turn to hide, I left the children counting in the kitchen and hurried along to the library, for I had a mind to creep behind an old tapestry hung in an alcove on the wall and conceal myself there.

On entering the room, however, my attention was suddenly caught by the large stone fireplace in the centre of the facing wall. This, as far as I knew, was never used, for it had been superseded by two smaller
fireplaces, one at each end of the room, these being thought to warm the room more efficiently.

Why did it suddenly come to my attention? I wondered this after, thinking it might have been the noble sculpted columns to each side or the pretty carvings in the limestone, but then perhaps it was neither, but just the spirit of inquisitiveness which has dogged me all my life.

As I stood admiring it, something made me wonder if I could stand within the fireplace and glimpse the sky above. I took a step forwards, then looked around one of the marble columns into darkness and sensed, rather than saw, a large space there.

I took another step, to the right this time, and found myself in a small cramped area like a box room or tomb made of stone; a space in which anyone might be completely hidden from anyone else in the library. Here – there was just light enough to see these things – were some traces of habitation: a stool, several grimy candles with flints to light them by, also a plate, knife and small earthenware pitcher which seemed, from the sour smell, to have once held milk. And everything I touched had the dust of years upon it.

I sat down on the stool in the almost-darkness, smiling a little to myself, for I knew the girls would never find me here. After a moment, though, I wondered if it might be better to keep this secret to myself. My reasoning went thus: when I’d been living at home I’d oft wished for a way to conceal myself from my father,
and perhaps at this house, too, such a private space might come in useful. Also – were I ever to be so bold – by hiding here in the fireplace I might discover what went on between Dr Dee and Mr Kelly when the door was locked.

Coming out and brushing myself down, I went to my original hiding place behind the tapestry and happily managed to stay hidden from the girls for fifteen minutes or so. Our game swiftly came to a conclusion, however, when the small party returned from the wet nurse, together with little Arthur, for Mistress Dee had been unable to bring herself to part with him. They climbed down from the carriage, rubbing their bones and bitterly complaining about the jolting they’d taken on the journey, and the mistress, looking fearful pale, was helped straight to bed by Mistress Allen.

‘Mama is being silly,’ Beth said as supper was prepared. ‘Papa said so.’

‘Did you and I both go to wet nurses?’ Merryl asked her.

Beth nodded. ‘Of course. And when you and I have children, they’ll go, too.’

‘Mine won’t!’ Merryl said, suddenly snatching Tom-fool from Beth. ‘I’ll keep mine with me.’ And she ran off with the monkey chittering with fright at being taken so abruptly, while Beth ran after to retrieve him.

Mistress Midge set me chopping bones for a broth and, being in a good mood (for the neighbour had
bought a bottle of claret with her and this was now standing empty beside the water trough), began telling me more tales of her early life when she’d worked for Mistress Dee’s family, and how she’d come here to Mortlake with her mistress when she’d married Dr Dee ten years ago. She said that Mistress Dee was thirty years younger than her husband and was his third wife.

‘And she is said to have married well by being matched with him,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think so, for she’s still young and pretty and he’s just an old husk of a man that even
I
couldn’t abide near me.’

‘And how did his first two wives die?’ I asked.

‘In childbed,’ came the reply, which I might have guessed and answered for myself.

‘But my poor lady hasn’t won herself any great marriage, for this house is a warren of poor rooms and – my, to think Her Grace herself comes here! – ’tis most incommodious, for ’tis full of rats from the river and unwholesome draughts. The old dowager – the master’s mother – I swear died of an ague she got from breathing in the foul airs rising from the water.’

‘What was old Mistress Dee like?’ I asked.

‘A harridan. She posted rules in the kitchen that I had to abide to, if you please. Told me how I should scour my pans and keep my kitchen neat! And she was of the old religion, too, and – though this was before my time – set up an altar and took Mass in the library even after our queen came to power.’

I looked at her in wonderment.

‘Aye, she did,’ Mistress Midge confirmed. ‘And it’s said that somewhere in the house is a priest’s hidey-hole, so that he might be hidden away quickly if someone suspected that an illegal Mass was taking place.’

‘Oh,’ I said. So
that
was what my secret place had been: a priest’s hideaway. And it didn’t seem as if anyone knew it was there …

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