Gideon's Angel (38 page)

“And she remembers nothing still?”

Da Silva shook his head. Isabel moved to join us, placing an arm around her father.

“But she did not know us to begin with,” she said as she guided the old man back to a chair, “And she has been here resting since the other night. She seems happy... without concern. Almost as if she is trying hard
not
to remember what has befallen her. It may be that she needs to look upon you, sir, to restore her memory.”

It was Billy who was bold enough to ask what I held back.

“What if them creatures, the demons, took something from her?” He gesticulated in his awkwardness. “I mean... took away what makes her like us. She’s not said a blessed thing since what happened.”

Isabel looked up at Billy. “You mean her
soul
?”

Billy looked at his boots. “Aye, I reckon that’s my fear, mistress.”

“I will not believe that,” said the rabbi, his voice filled with sudden strength. “The Lord would not permit such a thing.”

I was not so sure. The Archangel had restored us all: saved us from our infernal wounds and maybe even banished my secret Beast forever. But it had left Maggie untouched and lost to me. Perhaps it was my punishment for this adventure, not hers.

“She
is
restored in body,” said Isabel. “And she can be restored in spirit too, in time. But my father and I are worried that what you propose to restore her memory carries much risk. You must have great trust in this person... this
apothecary
.”

“I do. It is a trust that is long-earned.”

“Very well, then. Let me bring her down to you now.” And she quickly ascended the stairs.

Billy gave me a worried glance and I edged closer to the stairwell to await the arrival of the woman I loved. When Maggie came down she looked straight at me and smiled. But it was the smile of a gentlewoman entering a room and not a smile of recognition. Her chestnut tresses were tucked in a white crocheted cap that sat far back on her head. Isabel had thrown away Maggie’s torn and soiled clothes and dressed her in her own: dark madder skirt, white chemise and green woollen bodice cinching in her bosom modestly. Isabel gently placed an arm about Maggie and slowly guided her to me.

“Do you know this man, Marguerite?”

Again, Maggie looked at me. She dipped her head in a gesture of greeting. “Sir, I cannot recall if we have met... but you must forgive me as I have not been well these last days. Indeed I cannot even remember how it is I have come back to London. These good people here have told me I bumped my head... and this is why I have forgotten things.”

I nodded and smiled even as my heart was run clean through.

“How about me, mistress?” said Billy like some cheerful clown, sweeping his battered hat from his greasy noggin.

Maggie laughed and shook her head. “I would remember
you
, sir, I am sure!”

I reached out and grasped her hand gently. “If you would allow me, mistress, I think we know someone who can help you to remember. Will you let us take you there?”

Maggie looked confused and I saw a brief wave of fear wash over her face. She turned to Isabel. “If Isabel comes with me, and if she thinks I should...” The words trailed off as she sought support. And I looked straight into Isabel’s eyes so that she could see this was all I wanted with all my heart.

The girl turned to her father. Da Silva, sitting hunch-shouldered in his high-backed oak chair, nodded his head twice. He then raised his chin off his starched collar and gave me a look as if to say whatever was to follow was now all upon my head. Isabel took Maggie’s other hand. “I will come with you and make sure that you will be safe.”

O
UR LITTLE PARTY
made its way across the uneven cobbles of the Covent Garden, anticipation and worry hastening our pace. My cloak was thrown about my chest and over my shoulders, the silvered sword that had saved my life bounced against my hip as I stepped; my right arm was tightly entwined about Maggie’s. Isabel held her right hand. Billy was a pace ahead, loudly clearing a way for us among the costermongers with his usual Ranter manners.

We were momentarily stopped by the throng that swirled around us. “You don’t sound surprised,” I said to Ashmole, who was getting jostled by a little old man bent double under a wicker basket. I had just told him that I had spied the ring of the Freemasons on Gideon Fludd’s hand, moments before he was pulled down into the abyss.

“Richard, I was going to tell you. I received a letter this morning, from Mister Lilly. He has arrived back this morning from the north.”

“How convenient.”

“You don’t understand, Richard. He and the others left because they had heard that Gideon Fludd was of the brethren. They went to Berkhamsted to learn the truth of it. Alas, too late.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

Ashmole looked at me. “It might have. But time was not on our side. You know that.”

We started moving forward again. The crowd seemed vast, surging along to market. I pulled Maggie closer to my side but instantly felt her body tense under my grip. I relaxed my hand and loosened my hold upon her arm.

“We’re nearly there now,” I said. “You mustn’t worry. All will be well. Billy! Slow down there!”

I leaned closer to Ashmole so that he could hear me over the roar of traders. “Forgive me. I have not had the chance, until now, to give you my thanks. For believing me.”

Ashmole smiled broadly. “I know an honest man when I see one, and one who is worthy of assistance. And brotherhood.”

Into the Seven Dials now, we had turned down a narrow street, no more than an alleyway, and now stood in front of our destination.

Ashmole placed a hand on my shoulder. “We are all mortal men, even those of us in the Craft. Sometimes courage and faith fail even the best and bravest of us. I suppose even Gideon Fludd did not expect to take the path he ended up upon.”

“Mister Ashmole,” I said quietly, “You’re a gentleman true and among the most generous of souls in London. Will you not come in with us?”

“Nay, you don’t need me any further than here. I will pray that you find the aid you need. And I shall remain outside no matter how long it takes. God be with you.”

I took his hand. “I thank you, sir.”

Billy looked to me and I nodded. He pushed open the door and we entered the strange little shop that we had visited not three days ago. And Anya was waiting.

She stood near her work table, wiping her hands upon her moss-green skirt, a baggy linen smock masking the leanness of her brown body. Upon her head, a white turban was coiled, covering all of her raven hair except for two long strands that fell down each side of her long neck.

She looked at me, eyes sparkling despite the feeble light that fought its way into the room. “Sooner than you expected, man?”

“Aye, but no surprise to you, Anya. It never is.”

Billy swept his crumpled felt hat from his head and touched thumb and forefinger to his brow. “Mistress.”

Isabel stepped back and stood behind Maggie, a hand gently placed on her back, a gesture to let her know that she was still with her. Anya’s bare feet moved silently across the floorboards. She stopped in front of Maggie and drew back the hood of Maggie’s cloak. I could hear Maggie’s breaths coming faster as Anya’s eyes bored into her. Anya raised her long-fingered hand to Maggie’s cheek and offered a caress. “Child, what have you lost?”

Maggie hesitated, her weak voice quavering. “I’ve lost... part of myself.” And she turned to look up at me, her eyes filled with apprehension.

Anya dropped her hand and looked at me in the strangely cold way she had. “You and I must speak together, man.”

I followed her into the darker confines of the house. Over my head hung a veritable forest of dried plants and wizened things that looked vaguely like they had once been alive. Anya stopped and turned to me.

“You have succeeded against the evil, that is proved by your presence. But your victory has come at a cost.”

“I know that. You have to help her. I know that you have the power to heal.”

“She has seen things that no one should ever see. How did you let this woman come to such grief? You were careless, man!”

I felt my face suddenly burn and I moved towards her. She held her ground and met my glare with her own.

“It was not my doing!” I said.

“Bah! What has come to pass is all your doing, man. It always has been.”

I growled and swiped my hand at the festooned ceiling, pulling down an armful of stinking vegetation. Anya laughed, my shoulders sank, and my rage melted in an instant. I was defeated and she knew it. Anya undid her turban and tossed it onto a table. She gave her head a shake, long black hair spilling down to her shoulders. Even in the dimness of the room, I could see her pale eyes shine.

“Can you bring her back to me?” I begged, my voice a thin, reedy whisper.

Anya put her hands on her hips. “There are ways. I have a draught I can give her. I can push my way into her mind and force her to look too. If I have to. But there are risks. You know that too, don’t you, man?”

I nodded like a scolded schoolboy. “What is your price, woman?”

Anya raised her chin as the old phrase left her lips. “One silver thaler... deferred.” And I knew then that whatever happened next, our business together was not at an end.

We emerged together into the daylight of the shop room. I drank in the picture of Maggie, beautiful and lost, her companions standing by her.

Anya took up Maggie’s hands in hers. “Will you trust in my medicine and my craft, girl?”

Maggie stuttered.

“Girl!” said Anya, the tanned leathery skin of her neck tightening. “Will you open yourself to me?”

“Yes, yes, I will!” The explosive reply set her to shaking.

Anya gave a slow steady nod. “Then let us begin.” She pulled Maggie along and I made to follow, but Anya reached out and placed her hand firmly on my chest, her eyes commanding my attention.

“No. The girl and I must be alone. You know this.”

“She is... dear to me.”

“That matter is plain to see. Wait here.”

I nodded and the two vanished behind a red curtain that took them into the recesses of the house. I let out one long and heavy breath.

“Then
I
will go with her!” Isabel stepped forward to follow them in.

I grabbed her arm. “You will not, girl! What must be done must be done alone by Anya.”

Isabel twisted out of my grip, “Who knows what that witch will do!”

I instantly relented my action. “I beg you. Give her this chance. I need her back.”

The girl’s fire diminished. She blinked, glanced at Billy, and then nodded.

“Have faith, Mistress,” said Billy with all the confidence of an old sage. “She’s a proper Cunning Woman, she is. Mister Eff knows.”

“I pray you are both right in that,” she said, her voice subdued.

Silence fell among us, an awkward stillness with doubt, unseen, but still heavy, in the strongly scented room. Billy plucked a posy of dried lavender from a ceiling beam, made a few cautious steps, and handed it to Isabel. She took it from him with a raised eyebrow, a small shake of her head, and then a wisp of a smile.

“What will you and your father do now, mistress?” he asked.

And the look on his face made it clear to me, as I suppose I should have known from the beginning, that he was love-struck for her. He stood square, well-illuminated by the warm sunlight of the front window. He had sprung back to health in but a day it seemed. His features remained hard-favoured, as always, but now his complexion shone hale and hearty as when I had first met him. And it was as if years had passed since our meeting in Plymouth town, so much dark adventure had we shared together.

She inhaled deeply of the purple flowers and then offered the posy back to Billy. “We will do what we have always done. We will do what needs must to survive. We are
marranos
.”

Billy reached out again and took it back. He gave her a smile, trying to hide his disappointment, though his face flushed pink. “But General Cromwell has promised to look after you. Look after your people. I heard him say it.”

“A promise remains only that, a promise, until it is fulfilled. And we have waited a very long time. I’ll not depend on anyone but myself.” Isabel turned to me. “I will wait outside with Mister Ashmole. Forgive me, but there is something dark about this place, something uneasy.”

I gave her a slight nod and she smiled and moved to the door, pausing to briefly touch Billy upon the arm.

Once she had gone, Billy let out something between a sigh and a grunt and pushed his crumpled brimmer back on his head.

“What will you do now, Billy Chard? Will you go back to the Ranter colony?”

He shook his head. “Nah. They got it wrong they did. At least now I have my answer to the truth of their creed.” He looked at me. His grey eyes were somehow older, more tired than the rest of his face. The price of what he had seen. “There
is
evil and sin in this world, Mister Eff. And it comes by the cartload. But there is good too, in men. And I have seen Heaven’s Grace with my own eyes.” He scratched at his long crooked nose. “I guess you can’t have one without the other, can you, Mister Eff?”

“Did I do what was right, Billy?”

“You did the best with the cards we was handed and you can’t ask better than that. General Cromwell is pretty much all this sorry kingdom has left these days. Why didn’t you accept his offer of pardon?”

“And give up one death sentence in exchange for a new one from the Royalists? No, I’m happy with the lot I chose.”

“But you didn’t choose nothing, Mister Eff.”

I folded my arms, set my backside against the opposite wall, and dropped my chin to my chest. “I’m my own master, Billy. And that is no small treasure in these times.”

Billy let out a chuckle, as light and free as I had heard from him these weeks gone by. “Guess that means I’m a rich man too!”

An hour passed. And then another. Light and shadow slowly altered the little room as the day wore. My mind wandered, filled with hope one instant and despair the next. And then Billy bolted upright off the floor where he had sat cross-legged. I heard Maggie’s shoes clopping and scraping along the gritty floor as she returned, Anya at her side.