Read Online By Royal Command by Mary Hooper - Free Book Online Page B

then Dr Dee said ‘the package’ as he called Miss Charity, couldn’t have been properly bound. This led to Mr Kelly asserting that the knots had been most carefully tied, and the correct herbs and simples administered, to which Dr Dee replied that the only other explanation was that Mr Kelly had captured the wrong package, and someone else remained below.
    They went into the hall and, obviously no longer caring about being seen, lifted the trapdoor. Mr Kelly went down and when he came up (I was very nervous then, fearing I had left some means whereby I might have been discovered) he declared that she had indeed vanished, and the only explanation was that there was an evil spirit in the house who wished them ill, and who had freed the girl to thwart their plans. Hearing this I could not but smile a little to myself, grateful that they believed in the existence of such beings.
    They went back into the library, still cursing, each trying to blame the other for the loss of Miss Charity.
    ‘Well,’ I said to Mistress Midge as their voices died away. ‘What can all that have been about? What do you think was in that package they referred to?’
    Mistress Midge was endeavouring to knead egg yolks into ground almonds and sugar to make a marchpane cake, which is a task to frustrate the most even-tempered of women. ‘I don’t know and Lord knows I don’t care,’ she said. She thumped the mixture in the bowl furiously with her knuckles, trying to get it to come together. ‘Lord above! How is it that the daintiest of sweetmeats needs the heaviest of hands?’
    ‘But didn’t you hear? Dr Dee and Mr Kelly were monstrous angry with each other.’
    ‘Not as angry as I with this!’ she said, giving the mixture such a blow with her fist that the china bowl went skidding on to the floor and broke in two, depositing almond paste on to the floor. She roared with rage – and I thought it best to slip quietly away and continue my errand.
    The girls and I walked beside the river into the village, discovering that the puddles along the towpath had frozen hard and that the village boys had made one into a very long slide. We queued up to use this in turn (I, too, for I was feeling very light-hearted knowing that Miss Charity was safely back home with no blame to me) and took great delight in sliding its length, occasionally ending up on our backsides with ice and frozen earth all over our clothes. There was much laughter from the village lads when this happened, for most of them had tied bundles of rags over their shoes to aid their slipping and sliding, and this made them far more able on the ice than we were. Some didn’t feel the cold (or perhaps did not own any warm clothing) and did not seem to mind being hurt, either, for they were sliding and playing wearing short, ragged trousers, their legs sore and blue-mottled. All seemed to know the names of my little charges and, on Merryl falling over once again and being about to cry, set up a clapping and a chant of ‘Bravo, Merryl!’ until she smiled again. I was touched at this, but then heard one small boy say to his companion, ‘They are the magician’s children and we do well to speak to them civil.’
    ‘And what if we don’t?’ came the question.
    The answer was a shrug and a muttered, ‘If you cross them it could be very bad.’
    At length Merryl pleaded with her sister that they should go down the ice slide together, carriage-horse fashion, and crossing their arms behind them they ran two-by-two on to the ice, only to end up skidding and tumbling into a shallow ditch, laughing all the while.
    Several housewives on their way to market had stopped to see the children’s fun, and one of these spoke to me as I went over to help the girls out of the ditch.
    ‘We are set for days more of this harsh weather,’ she said, ‘for the moon is as clear as silver in the sky a’night.’
    I nodded, looking across the Thames. ‘There are great chunks of ice floating in the