by Mez Blume
“Yes. ’Tis true.” Sophia sat down beside Frederick and looked earnestly into his eyes. “I became lonely after you went away to Oxford, so Tannia and I took to exploring. That’s how we met Tom, the gypsy painter, and his daughter Bessy. I sat beside his fire and listened to tales of their travels across England. Wonderful tales! And then Tom told me I had been so kind a listener, he would paint for me whatever my heart most desired, and it might even come true. I told him that what my heart most desired was for God to send me a true friend at Otterly Manor, for I would be better able to do my duty here if I had someone I could talk to.”
Frederick’s scowl softened and he placed an understanding hand on his sister’s shoulder. “And then?”
“When I went back to visit Tom and Bessy again, their wagon had moved. The fire had all turned to ash. That was before I knew Tom had come to work as Master Van Hoebeek’s apprentice. But he left me a note tied to a tree saying I should watch carefully for the friend I’d prayed for.” Her blue eyes sparkled at me. “And only two days later, Tannia found you, Katie, lost in the bracken! So you see, God did answer my prayer, and Katie was his answer, so she surely can’t be the work of the devil.” Sophia finished and gave her brother a defiant nod.
Frederick looked sternly at his sister and then at me. But soon his face relaxed and he took his sister’s hand in his own two.
“I know you have been lonely here, Sophia. And I am glad you’ve found a friend.” He smiled almost warmly at me. “But as your brother, I must still caution you not to spend your time unattended with strange gypsy painters, or to give much heed to what such people say. Though I do confess, I’m of half a mind to ask Tom Tippery to paint me an answered prayer of my own.” He yanked out his handkerchief and sneezed into it once more.
Sophia and I exchanged a look. All the brotherly protectiveness and accusation seemed to drain out of Frederick. He had bigger fish frying in his mind than worrying about where I’d come from — all the better for me. He drooped over, bracing his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists.
Now it was Sophia’s turn to show concern. “But Frederick, why? What is it your heart is desiring?”
“A different lot in life.” He stood up and paced the hayloft’s small patch of floor. “The university has taught me much, Sophia. Philosophy. Theology. Things that matter. But I want more than a good education, just bits of knowledge I can flaunt about at Court like a jester’s tricks. I want to do something … important. Like Papa.”
“You mean you want to be a rector like Papa and further the Reformation?”
His face lit up. “Genau! You understand! There’s so much I want to do … to write pamphlets, help translate the Greek scriptures into modern languages, reform the corrupt legal systems across Europe … ”
“But Frederick, your place is in England now. Papa sent you not just to study, but to represent our family and our faith in this country. It is a noble task.”
I watched the passionate battle between the two flush-faced, bright-eyed siblings wondering who would come out on top.
“Noble?” Frederick plopped back down, sinking into his bale of hay as if the word had shot him down. “Nobility is all a game, Sophia. And I don’t have the appetite to play it when there are truly noble tasks afoot.”
Sophia crossed her hands in her lap and addressed Frederick just like a little mother. “But have you forgotten? Papa is both a rector and a prince. You can be both a rector and a nobleman. And think of the great influence you will wield in Court when you are an Earl! You could even become a university chancellor like Lord Buckville and teach Theology to England’s brightest young men!”
Frederick crossed his arms and gazed up at the swallows darting between the vaulted rafters. “Nein, Sophia. What I long for is the life of an itinerant teacher, free from the chains of courtly duties. All this coquetry and banqueting is a foolish waste of time.”
Then, so suddenly it made me start, Frederick jumped to his feet and stood in front of me. “Enough of me. Mistress Katherine, I do not pretend to believe or understand your story. But you have been a true friend to my sister in my absence and for that you have my thanks. Whatever secrets you have, you may keep them if you wish.” He held out his hand to me. I stood and placed my hand limply in his, not quite sure how to take being thanked and called a liar in one breath. He gave it a squeeze and bowed.
“Thank you,” I said, making an awkward curtsey as I tried to pull my skirt apart from the hay bale. And just like that, the tension was broken.
Frederick wiggled his nose. “I think I’ve had enough of hay. What shall we do now?” He turned to his sister. “Or do I detain you from your lessons, Kleine Schwester?”
Sophia was shaking the hay out her skirts. “Lessons are cancelled for the day in light of preparations for the King and Queen. But the Countess has asked the Dancing Master to hold a special session for us this afternoon, to be sure we are ready for the banquet.
Frederick groaned. “And the pageantry begins!”
“Don’t make such a fuss,” Sophia scolded. “You can be a gentleman and ask Katie to be your dancing partner.”
My ears pricked up hopefully. “You mean I can come?” I’d taken ballet when I was younger and had always loved dancing, but I never dreamt I would be allowed to attend the ball.
“Natürlich! You are my lady-in-waiting! And anyway, the dance masters often snatch grooms or maids from their duties to serve as our dancing partners. Digby is always volunteering. He is an excellent dancer. Surprisingly light on his toes, for a boy who works with horses!”
At that moment, we both noticed a strange look enter Frederick’s eyes, like an idea had just possessed him. A smile flickered on his lips, and he clasped his hands together.
“What is it, Frederick? You are making your mischievous face.”
“Digby!” he answered. “Digby is just the man to whom I wish to speak.”
11
The Swap
We spotted Digby before he spotted us, whistling to himself as he shovelled out stalls in the stables below. Between every few scoops, he would stand his pitchfork upright and skip around it like it was a maypole.
“You were quite right, Sophia!” Frederick said, laughing out loud which made Digby jump a foot in the air. “Our good stable boy is as light on his feet as a maiden!”
Poor Digby hid his scarlet face by hastily doffing his cloth cap and bowing low. When he rose up, he wore a broad smile that turned his dusty cheeks to cherry tomatoes.
“Master Frederick, welcome home! I’ve just been attending your horse.”
“Oh?” Frederick jumped down from the last few rungs of the ladder. “It looked to me as though you were attending your fair dancing partner.” He pantomimed a bow to Digby’s pitchfork. “She is the thinnest maid that ever I laid eyes on. Does she eat well?”
Though Digby still looked sheepish, he shared the laugh with Frederick, and Sophia and I, reaching the ground in turn, joined in. The two boys clasped one another’s arms and dived into conversation about university life in Oxford.
I wasn’t listening. A beautiful chestnut stallion in the nearest stall caught my eye, and I found myself thinking about Vagabond, wishing I could break away just for a moment to see him by myself. Sophia must’ve noticed my fascination with the horse.
“He’s called Zeus,” she said. “Would you like to meet him?”
I nodded. “I’d love to.”
We climbed up on a wooden crate to greet Zeus.
My heart did a little skip as I reached out and felt the horse’s warm neck. I couldn’t help thinking that this was the first time I’d touched a horse since the accident. It’s okay, I told myself while trying to force back images of that horrible day. Don’t panic. Don’t be a baby in front of everyone.
I don’t think Sophia noticed that I was shaking. She seemed to be thinking of something else. “Frederick is lucky, you know,” she said, calmly stroking the horse’s velvet nose. “He and Digby struck up
a friendship ever since the first days we came here. In fact, we often jest that the two are brothers separated at birth. Just look how similar they are!”
I dropped my hand from Zeus’s neck and released the breath I’d been holding as I turned around to have a look. Now Sophia pointed it out, she certainly was right. Once I looked past the obvious difference in clothing, the boys looked amazingly similar. Both were tall and lanky, though strong-looking. Digby’s hair hung a bit longer and shaggier than Frederick’s; but it was the same golden yellow, like sunlit hay. Also Digby’s features were softer and not so solid and manly as Frederick’s German ones. But even so, they could easily pass for brothers … maybe even twins.
“Actually, Digby, I’ve a proposition for you,” Frederick was saying. “How would you like to attend the royal banquet on the morrow?”
Sophia spun around in alarm. “Frederick!”
I looked from Sophia to Digby. His jaw hung open and a sort of hungry look lit up his dazzled eyes. Becoming suddenly self-conscious, he threw his head back and laughed. “Now there’s a lark, Master Frederick! Me? A nobody? At the King’s banquet? What, and dance with the noble ladies in my stable breeches and jerkin?” He pulled at the baggy legs of his brown, woollen knee breeches. “Or shall I bring my pitchfork for a dancing partner? Ha!” He pitched another fork full of hay into the stall, speaking over his shoulder. “You’re a right jester you are, Master Frederick.”
But Frederick wasn’t laughing. “Don’t be absurd, Digby. Of course you shall wear my finest doublet and silk breeches. And if you don’t mind, you shall also bear my name throughout the evening as well. You see, I’d sooner spend the night out here with your pitchfork than in a hall full of noble ladies myself.”
Digby had stopped pitching hay again and stood there dumbly. I could see in Sophia’s intense blue eyes that she, on the other hand, had been holding her tongue as long as she possibly could.
With her fists on her hips and her chin in the air, she snapped, “Have they been teaching you the art of deception at Oxford, Frederick? How do you hope to reform the Church and become a great rector if you break the commandments and bear false witness?”
I looked at Frederick who was avoiding her glare by taking a turn stroking Zeus’s nose. “And have you not been telling your share of stories, Schwester?”
That made Sophia’s cheeks flush with anger. I felt pretty irritated too that Frederick still thought we were lying or playing childish games, but I thought it best to leave this fight between brother and sister and moved away to stand beside Digby.
“At any rate,” Frederick continued, “I am not a rector yet. Nor shall I ever be if I commit to a life of flattering His Royal Highness.”
Sophia opened her mouth to speak, but Frederick jumped in too quickly. “Besides, you said yourself our friend Digby was an excellent dancer. It would be an ungodly shame if he never got the chance to use his skill.” He crept an arm around Sophia’s shoulder, but she stayed as stiff as a pin. “Come, Schwester. Consider, it will only be one night.”
Sophia jumped off the box, leaving her brother’s arm to drop by his side. “And what if Digby is recognised? He will be thrown into prison for dressing above station, all thanks to you and your ruse! If Father were here, he would remind you of your duty to be a good steward of the opportunities given to you, and be thankful for them.” She swung around and looked Digby squarely in the eye so that he hung his head. “And that goes for you too. There is no shame in being a stable boy if you do your task unto the Lord with dignity.”
Frederick stepped between them and took the pitchfork from Digby’s hand. “Then we shall do one another’s tasks with dignity.” He smiled down at Sophia, but she turned her face away. “All will be well, Kleine Schwester. Let us not ruin our precious time together with quarrelling.”
“Only be for one night,” Digby chimed meekly.
I remained a fly on the wall. Frederick’s plan didn’t seem so bad to me as Sophia seemed to think it; but then, there was so much about this century I still didn’t understand. And I wasn’t about to take Frederick’s side over Sophia’s when she’d defended me so valiantly.
After a moment’s hot silence, Sophia took my arm. “Come, Katie.” She spoke to me as if Frederick and Digby had vanished from our presence. “We have a dance lesson to attend.”
12
Preparations
How I wished that dance lessons could have carried on all day! My ballet lessons came in very handy. Though Sophia knew the dances already and performed them to perfection, the others were impressed with how quickly I picked them up.
I blushed when even the Dancing Master said so everyone could hear, “Exemplary poise, mademoiselle. Like a graceful doe!”
Sophia remained stiff towards Frederick and Digby; but even she couldn’t help laughing with the rest of us when Digby followed the Master too closely, and the feather in his cap went right up Digby’s nostril and made him sneeze so loudly the poor man screamed like a woman. Only the Dancing Master wasn’t doubled over with laughter.
After the lesson, we spent the rest of the day trying to stay out of the way of the preparations. We walked in the park, sat in the garden and drew birds, and Frederick gave me a lesson in billiards which I thought was more like croquet on a table than modern-day pool.
I said goodbye to Sophia and Frederick when it was time for supper, and made my way downstairs alone. The air felt tense in the Great Hall that night. It reminded me of the nerve-racking moments waiting my turn to ride at a horse show, going over every jump in my head and wishing it could all be over. I suppose for the household staff at Otterly Manor, hosting the King must have felt like a performance as well, and they all wanted to receive top marks for their parts.
It was a relief to get back to the cosy red bedchamber and warm my feet in front of the fire with Sophia and Britannia. We talked about the banquet while sipping from tankards of hot milk and honey.
“Frederick is being very foolish,” she said with a sigh. “Everyone in my family is stubborn and headstrong, but I think perhaps he is the worst.”
“I can be quite stubborn sometimes too,” I admitted. “Even when I know I’m wrong. My mum says I could out-kick a mule.” Sophia giggled. “Who knows?” I shrugged. “Maybe he’ll change his mind tomorrow. And if he doesn't, well, I guess at least Digby will have his chance to be a nobleman for a night.”
“Yes.” Sophia’s eyebrows were furrowed. “Maybe then he’ll finally see that spending his day with horses is actually quite nice compared to the company of some courtiers.”
I laughed. “Are they very snooty?” I asked.
Sophia gave me a mischievous look out of the corner of her eye. “Well let’s just say, the Dancing Master is not the only one who lacks a sense of humour when being sneezed at.”
After emptying our tankards, we twirled away the evening in our nightgowns, practising our dance steps on the Turkish rug. At last we danced ourselves to bed, eager, and a little nervous, for the next day to arrive.
The morning was normal enough. The first item before breakfast was choosing gowns for the banquet. Sophia showed me her top three, and I chose a green one with gold ribbon for her. The sleeves were embroidered with roses. It looked just the sort of gown a storybook princess might wear, especially when Sophia’s golden hair fell across the green silk.
I couldn’t feel really jealous of Sophia, as kind as she was; but I did wonder just a little how it would feel to have such beautiful hair and wear gowns like that.
She laid the green gown on the bed and took another one from the pile. She held it up in front of me and wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully. It was a beautiful yellow velvet, the colour of her canary bird, with puffy sleeves and little yellow gems down the front.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“It’s very lovely. Reminds me of Belle from Beauty and the Beast.”
“Who?”
“Oh, she’s just a make believe princess from a fairy tal
e.”
“Well I think it is perfect for you.” She held the gown against my shoulders to check its length.
“For me? But shouldn’t I dress like the other servants?”
“There will be so many people in the Great Hall, and so many new faces among all the courtiers, the Earl and Countess will not think you out of place. And besides, you must dance! You are so good at it!”
The thought of dancing in that yellow gown in front of the King and Queen of England sent a million nervous little ants running through my veins. I had to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering. “I hope I don’t mess up!”
“You will be exquisite. Remember?” She imitated the Dancing Master’s snooty, flamboyant air and French accent. “You ’ave exemplary poise, mademoiselle’.”
We floated on a cloud of nerves and excitement right through breakfast, giggling at the slightest thing.
The rest of the morning passed in an ordinary way. We were to go to church in the town. Luckily for me, the Earl and Countess were staying behind to oversee preparations for the banquet, so I got to ride in the carriage with Sophia and Frederick.
As we made our way to the carriage through the manor, I felt just like I’d shrunk and gone inside a swarming hive. The whole huge house buzzed with anticipation. Maids flung linens out of windows and beat them with racquets. Clangings and shouts erupted from the buttery. Even out in the park, dozens of men were pitching tents, and others carried ropes of quails. I looked away when two men crossed our path with a dead deer hanging from a pole and quickly climbed into the carriage before any more dead things crossed our path.
The church looked just like the old stone parish church my grandparents attended. Without thinking, I glanced over at their usual pew when we entered, half expecting to see them there … then remembered. I had been so preoccupied, I’d almost managed to forget my family didn’t exist. Sitting through the long service, away from all the buzz and excitement, a hollow feeling began to grow in my stomach until it swallowed the nervous butterflies that had been fluttering there all morning.