He laughed. “The wedding’s to be here next May, and she brings as her dowry œ12,000 in gold. In gold, Maugan! It’s a commodity we’ve seen little of this decade. I’ve been tempted to have my ring and snuff box melted down just to see the plain virgin colour of the stuff once more before I die!”
“John will still lack a few months of sixteen then.”
“Yes, and she the same. D’you like her, Maugan? D’you think she’ll be a worthy mistress of this great house when I am gone?”
In the last months our relationship had been cordial and frank to a degree I had never imagined possible; but this was a delicate matter.
“She I think she may be inclined...”
“No, talk plain. I give you leave.”
“I think she’ll be a holy terror.”
He grunted, not pleased with my frankness now he had it. “She’s raw now. She’ll weather. Life’ll give her a few hard knocks and the cornerstll be less sharp. Mind …” He stopped and smoothed his moustache. “Mind, I think John’s scarcely man enough to handle her yet. But boys grow up more slower than girls. It will work out all right. Why look at yourself.”
“Myself? “
“Yes. Twelve months ago you were no more than a child though often an awkward child, I’ll grant. Now well, now you’re a man. You could manage her. I believe that.”
“I believe I should not want to, father.”
“Oh, we’ll find you a wife soon, boy. God’s lungs, I wish you were legitimate. I’d put you to good use within this yearl We’ve still need of all our assess i”
“Perhaps I can help in other ways.”
“Perhaps you can. So you have. But a word of warning to you on this Irish boat: I can afford no scandal.”
“I’ll have a care.”
“I mean it. No more adventures when I am away. I can afford nothing that will damage my credit with the Privy Council. My debts put me on a tightrope; and until this marriage I must take great care not to fall.”
“I’ll remember.”
He was turning over the pages on his desk. “You know, I’d have liked to link you with Jane Fermor.” He smiled sardonically. “I’d have sat back then and watched the storm. John I’m a trifle afraid for. But he’ll grow to his tasks!”
When I left the room I was still wondering what map it was he had thrown in the corner.
I remember nothing of Christmas that year except that I bought Meg Stable two pairs of stockings, one green, one red, and that she refused to accept them on my conditions. It was a cold January, with ice on the swan pool and everyone keeping as much as possible indoors. The house became oppressive and stank more than usual of dogs and wood smoke. Each morning the windows were steamed over so that one seemed to live in a world of fog; in the afternoon moisture ran down them and down the walls. Everyone wore two or three coats, but even this could not keep out the cold airs which moved everywhere just out of reach of the fires. It was a time when mischief brewed, when old feuds among servants sparked into life again, when jealousies and lustful fancies had their freest rein.
In February I rode into Truro and went to call on Katherine Footmarker.
It was strange how far behind my stay with Chudleigh Michell had fallen. It was as if some lost forgotten boy had served a year in my place. I found Katherine sitting at the back of her cottage caring for an adder which had been beaten with a stick and left for dead. Her greeting was very cold and unfriendly, as I could but have expected, and it took some time to come to the purpose of my visit.
“That harsh and evil woman,” she said. “Why should I help her if I could?”
“She is my grandmother. If she has to die I’d prefer her to do it in some less distressful way.”
“See his tongue? ” she said. “He does not open his mouth to flick it out, but pushes it through a slit in his lip. Hearin’, smell, taste, he does it all with that tongue.”
I had taken a seat on a tree stump at a respectful distance. “Are you not afraid of being stung?”
“Bitten? No. Birds, animals, reptiles, they all know their friends. Which is more than humans do. It’s more than Maugan Killigrew does.”
“I’m often perplexed as to that. I’m often perplexed, for instance, as to my feelings for the woman Katherine Footmarker.”
“What are your feelin’s for her?”
“I am drawn to her and repelled. There’s no middle way, no mean of feeling.”
“See how he touches ground with his jaw. It’s said snakes can’t hear, but I suspicion they touch the ground to feel the vibrations travellin’ through and over the earth. You could never come on him from behind without him knowin’.”
“Nor could one come on you.”
“Still a sharp word in your mouth? You’re like a young goat trying his strength for the first time and hitting his head against everythin’. Do you love your grandmother?”
“… No.”
“Then why ask this?”
“I have a fancy to help her breathe if I can. You’re helping a snake.”
“Ah,” she said. “But I’ve a fondness for this poor snake who I doubt did no wrong in all his life. Let me see … bronchitis and tissick. That would not be so easy.”
She stretched her long back and went into the cottage. Presently she came out again carrying two bottles but at first she would not give them to me.
“This one, a simple remedy of horehound and comfrey, is to be taken durin’ the day. This second at night. But I warn you this second is like to make her sleepy and I can promise no cure.”
“She can be hardly harmed by it or be worse and live. What is it?”
“A diacodium. I give them you both on a condition that she never knows where you got them. It’s a fancy I have.”
I agreed, but when I offered to pay she laughed harshly. “You and I have a running account, Maugan. First one pays something and then th’ other. The time to strike a balance is not now.”
There had been a small frosty sun just after midday, and now on the way home shafts of it broke through the clouds and fell like dipped lances over the moors. By the time the woods above Penryn were reached the day had closed in and the light was moist and grey. The church bell was tolling; the breeze bore the sound up the hill; someone was dead.
Just past the ruined monastery buildings I came up with two men on foot, one helping the other who seemed ill. One was Timothy Carpenter and the other Dick Stable. Dick had a great cut across his head and was spitting blood. Timothy, though in better shape, limped at each step.
I put Dick on my horse and walked beside Timothy. They had been to Penryn on business for my father and had stopped for a drink at Piper’s Tavern. There they had heard that old Sebastian Kendall was dead. Three or four Penryn quarry men had been in the tavern and one had shouted it was that virgin-thief Maugan Killigrew who had really killed the old man.
So the result. When we got in Dick was found to be bleeding at the mouth only for lost teeth, but the cut on his head went deep as a crater, and they had both been hard used. I took the story to my father and suggested I went with ten men to Penryn that night to teach them a lesson.
He shook his head.
When I looked put out he shouted: “I’ve told you before! I do not fall over only for two reasons: the forbearance of the Queen which Uncle Henry sees to; and a similar forbearance on the part of the Privy Council, Cecil chief among them. But I have had my warnings. They’ll not abide mischief. The war’s too tense. So Penryn must go unpunished. Let them be.”
“Give me leave to do something in private.”
“You could not, for nothing ever stays private where the Killigrews are concerned. When this wedding’s through things will be different. Once you start to defeasance your bonds, your creditors become no longer pressing for payment! It’s a sorry paradox. Have patience. May will soon be here.”