Exile (11 page)

“Ah, yes, family,” I said, in a desperate attempt to bring him back to the point. “Do you know their families at all? Are they of noble birth, do you think?”

Babak smiled broadly. “I do not know,” he said, shaking his head. “I would not have thought so. But who can tell with foolish young men? They talk always of horses or games or young ladies—not of family or childhood. Indeed, they are all but children still.”

“Horses,” I said, trying to get any information from Babak that I could. “You said they talk of
horses. Do they like to ride? Are they especially skilled at riding?”

Babak shrugged. “They can both ride, of course. I do not know if either is very expert. I am sorry I cannot be of more help to your Queen.”

I realised that I was wasting time asking Babak about Anoosh and Faruk. He clearly did not know enough about either of them to help me. I said goodbye and hurried away, hoping that he would never mention our conversation to the Queen, for I have used both her and Lady Sarah shamefully.

I racked my brains, trying to work out how I could learn whether either Anoosh or Faruk was the thief. I knew that in order for the thief to enter the chamber where the ruby was kept—without being seen—he could only have entered by the window. That meant he had to be an accomplished climber or tumbler, like Masou. And, since the only way to reach the window was by climbing out through the tiny casement of the room above, the thief must also be a snake man of remarkable ability. Surely there was some way to find out whether Anoosh or Faruk possessed these unusual acrobatic skills.

The palace was very busy, as ever, and it was hard to put my mind to the problem, so I got my cloak and collected the Queen's dogs. It was a bright
morning and I felt sure the cold air would clear my head.

As Henri, Philip, and Ivan rushed up and down the Tilting Yard, fetching sticks, I tried to devise a plan for testing the pages. At last I thought I had the perfect scheme. I would claim that the door to their bedchamber was shut fast and if they wished to sleep in their beds tonight they would have to climb the walls and slip in through the window. But how should I approach the matter? If it was clumsily put, the thief would know straight away what I suspected. I needed expert help, and I knew where to find it.

I think Mr. Somers was rather surprised when a Maid of Honour, with three yapping dogs, turned up at tumbling practise asking for Masou. He was too courteous to argue, and politely agreed that the Queen's dogs would benefit from having an expert tumbler like Masou to teach them to beg. Looking rather puzzled, he bade Masou go with me.

Once we were back out in the Tilting Yard I told Masou my plan.

I had to wait a long while until he had finished laughing.

“You have given me much joy,” he chortled. “Your plan is as good as one of Paul the Dwarf's jokes—that is to say, terrible! If either Anoosh or
Faruk is the thief, he will know what you are about straight away—and if not, he will think you have lost your wits!”

“Well then, Mr. Clever,” I asked, “how would you test someone's tumbling skills?”

Masou said nothing. He simply walked forwards and pretended to trip over an astonished Ivan. However, instead of falling flat on his face, he turned the trip into a forward roll and stood up again, unhurt.

“It is simple,” he told me. “You cause them to fall over and see what they do. If they are tumblers, they will turn it to their advantage.”

“But you knew you were going to trip,” I protested. “Surely even an expert tumbler will fall if taken by surprise.”

“Impossible,” said Masou with a grin. “It is in the blood. And whoever climbed into the Banoo's dressing room must be truly skilled in these things.”

“Very well.” I shrugged. “I will attempt to trip up Anoosh and Faruk and see what they do.”

All of a sudden, Masou crouched down on his haunches in front of Philip, held his hands out in front of him, and began to pant. Philip jumped up and licked his face. I had no idea what was going on. Was this a different test he wanted me to do? I wondered.

“Methinks you should find another to teach the dogs, Lady Grace,” came a voice. “Masou is more like to be chewed than be a tutor.” It was Mr. Somers! Masou must have seen him approaching and remembered what he was supposed to be doing.

“Come, lad,” said his master merrily, “for we have not the top point of our pyramid until you arrive.”

It still makes me chuckle to think of the troupe solemnly balanced on each other's shoulders, waiting for Masou.

Now it is well past noon and almost time for dinner so I will put my daybooke and penner back in my chamber. Then after my stomach is full I will go and find the unsuspecting pages and see how well they trip!

I am first to retire. I want to write in my daybooke and then pretend to be asleep when the others come to bed. I am not very popular with the other Maids at the moment and think it best to keep out of the way.

I did not have long to wait to test the first of my suspects. After dinner, I accompanied the other Maids and Mrs. Champernowne to attend the Queen in her Presence Chamber. In honour of the Banoo
we were to be entertained with poetry reading by Sir Edward Dyer and other members of the Court who fancy themselves poets. I hoped the Queen would read some of her own. She writes the most beautiful poems.

We were just starting up the stairs from the Great Hall when Faruk started to come down. He bowed when he saw us. This was my chance. I felt rather guilty, but as he went past me, I stuck my foot out under the cover of my skirts. The poor young man went sprawling down the last four stairs and landed in a heap at the bottom. I ran down to him, and Mrs. Champernowne puffed after me.

“Forgive me, sir,” I gasped, trying to help him up.

Faruk sat up and rubbed his elbow. “My fault entirely, my lady,” he groaned politely.

“That was very clumsy, Grace!” chided Mrs. Champernowne. “How it happened, I do not know. Now hurry off to the Queen while I tend to this poor young man.”

So it seems Faruk is no tumbler. Surely no one would allow themselves to be hurt thus if they could help it.

The poetry reading was long, truly long, and not by the Queen at all. It was all about Phyllis the
Shepherdess treading on flowers, with a flock of gallant sheep that leap about, and having a hard heart for men but a soft spot for her pretty flock! Would Sir Edward have made such a to-do about Phyllis if she had been looking after pigs? I wondered.

When it was finally over I could not believe that the clock had only struck two. It felt as if it should have been four at the very least! Her Majesty suggested that the Banoo might like to see her sundial in the Fountain Court. The Queen is very pleased with it, for it portrays a map of the world.

Cloaks were fetched—as it was very cold and frost still lay upon the ground—and then we all made our way down my favourite avenue, where the box hedges have been cut into the shapes of animals. It is a new fashion that has just come over from Europe.

Things could not have worked out better for me, for Anoosh was there, attending Banoo Yasmine. I wanted the opportunity to test him, but was determined to do it in a different way. Stairs had turned out to be rather dangerous and I was feeling guilty about Faruk, who seemed to be making a point of keeping out of my way. Also, I wasn't sure that Mrs. Champernowne would believe a second tripping was an accident on my part!

I was beginning to think I would not have a chance to put Anoosh to the test, when I noticed how icy the ground was a little way ahead. The fountain had splashed there and the water had frozen. Sir William Paget was escorting Lady Sarah carefully along so that she didn't slip on the icy ground, while Lady Jane had to make do with Mary Shelton's support, and was looking most put out. The ice had given me an idea for testing Anoosh. As we came to the slippery patch of ground, I stuck close by Anoosh and made great pretence of losing my balance. I am sure I must have looked like Lady Jane, who is a woeful skater and hardly ever upright on the ice. I flapped my arms and shrieked a bit and managed to shove Anoosh quite hard in the back. Then I clung to a topiary chicken and watched my handiwork.

Who would have thought that one little push could cause such mayhem!

Anoosh's legs shot out from under him and he stumbled. He struggled to right himself, in a most ungainly manner, proved utterly unable to regain his balance, and ended by sliding helplessly along the icy ground on his bum. Before Faruk could move from his path, Anoosh had crashed into him. Faruk careered into Penelope and Carmina, who in turn
grabbed at Lady Jane. She and Mary Shelton promptly fell over each other and collided with Lady Sarah, who, in spite of Sir William's arm, was brought to her knees! I hoped that no one would realise who had started the slipping and sliding, but I was out of luck.

The Queen, who was behind and had seen it all, shrieked with laughter. “What a wondrous display,” she chortled, turning to her guest. “My Maids of Honour have many accomplishments, Banoo Yasmine. Lady Grace is particularly skilled at ninepins. See, she has knocked them all down with one ball!”

Everybody glared at me—except Lady Jane, who had been helped up by Sir William Paget and was now clinging to his arm. Anoosh kept out of my way and looked most alarmed when I went forwards to apologise, and I had to endure Lady Sarah's complaint about my ungainliness for the rest of the walk.

I think I am winning a reputation for being the clumsiest person at Court. And—worse—Faruk and Anoosh seem to have no talent at all for tumbling, which, if true, means I cannot save Ellie from her fate!

But I have one last hope. Suppose one of them is
the thief, yet is a great dissembler! He might be so cunning that he is hiding his skill. I mean to test their climbing abilities tomorrow.

But now I can hear Mary Shelton and Lady Sarah coming to bed so I shall dive beneath my covers and start snoring!

THE TWENTIETH DAY OF JANUARY,
IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1570
ST. AGNES'S EVE

We are in the Great Hall with Her Majesty and the Banoo and listening to the musicians up in the gallery. Well, most of us are listening. Lady Sarah and Lady Jane are squabbling with each other quietly. Today is the eve of the feast of St. Agnes and it is said that if you go to bed without supper on this night, you will dream of the man you will marry. Both Lady Sarah and Lady Jane are laying claim to Sir William Paget and denying the other permission to have him in her dreams. I will not bother with all this silliness. I could no more miss supper than dance beautifully and, knowing my luck, I would probably dream of fat old Babak!

I am enjoying the music. We have had a lucky escape: it was nearly poetry again. Sir Edward Dyer
claimed yesterday that he had many more poems (probably about Phyllis) that were certain to please his fair monarch, but even Her Majesty had had enough. He would have been better served if he had written about Fair Eliza. But I must keep to the point of this entry. I may be needed to join in with a madrigal soon.

I was awake early this morning and straight away put my mind to the problem of the theft. With every day that passes, Ellie is nearer to being convicted of a crime she did not commit, and she is relying on me.

The task I had in mind to test Anoosh and Faruk's climbing skills was a very simple one. All they had to do was climb something high and difficult. The only problem was persuading them to do it. They were avoiding me as if I had the plague. I was still wondering what I could do at breakfast, when I looked across the table and saw Lady Sarah smiling at Sir William. If persuasion is needed and young men are involved there is no one better than Lady Sarah. I decided to ask for her help as soon as I could. The only trouble was, I could not explain the real reason. I would have to trick her into helping me to trick Anoosh and Faruk! I just hoped I could keep my story straight and not get found out.

Fortune was on my side, for Her Majesty had
some matters of state to deal with and did not want to see us Maids until eleven of the clock. And the Banoo was spending the morning in her own apartments. I escaped the breakfast table before Mrs. Champernowne could find me some tedious task and went in search of Masou. I found him warming his hands at a fire in the Long Gallery.