Elizabeth Tudor- Ancestry of Sorcery

by Theresa Pocock

  Robert leaned in toward me and said, “Is she always this strange, flipping from one sentiment to the opposite in a moment? I do not think that is healthy.”

  I still could not speak. My mind was divided. I wanted to think about what had just happened to Kat, but her passing words kept distracting me. I wondered if I could do a similar thing again, or if, perhaps, it was some strange coincidence.

  However, if I had done it…if I had somehow, in some improbable conjecture of circumstances, happened to so quickly change Kat’s mind about Robert, then perhaps I could make Sir John decide to stay with us until the weather let up.

  Right then I knew that I was a selfish girl. Sir John’s wife needed him.

  But wasn’t it dangerous to travel in such weather as this? I reasoned with myself. One more day would not do anyone harm.

  Closing my eyes into Robert’s handkerchief, I concentrated hard and willed the light to go make Sir John want to sit out the weather. I peeked out from behind the handkerchief to see if any light was moving around, but none was. I wanted to try again, but Robert was looking questioningly at me, so I decided it would be best to talk with him instead of obsess about some silly nonsense, for we only had a few moments left together.

  Besides, I was certain I’d imagined the whole thing and Kat was just getting senile in her old age.

  I cleared my throat and set it all aside. “Do you have enough time for a game of chess before you go?” I asked and sniffed loudly.

  “Well, that depends on whether you let me win or not,” he said with a smile, and touched a tear off my cheek.

  Episode 9

  September 1542

  Hatfield House, Hertfordshire

  I watched Robert’s carriage from the sitting room window and cried long after he was gone. Kat, however, got to work straight away. She informed the house staff that I would be leaving and, thus, everything was in an uproar. When I finally cried myself out, I sat and watched the servants bustle around.

  This sadness was also a brilliant distraction. I did not want to give proper thought to what had happened between Kat and the light. But, now that I was a bit more under control, I forced myself to lay out the facts in my mind: my desire for Kat to like Robert had forced an emotional reaction in me, I got upset and practically yelled at her, then a bit of my light left me and Kat changed her mind and was nice to Robert.

  A chill prickled the base of my spine and my breath came a bit faster. What was this all about? I could not begin to understand. I knew nothing of what this light was and, for the first time since last night, I willed it to go away, doubting the goodness I felt with it around me.

  The moment the wish was solidified in my mind, the light fled. I could no longer see it, but I knew it was within my reach, should I want it back. A hole in my being was revealed at its departure, a hole I’d never been cognizant of. I felt almost naked without the light.

  Fortunately, at this moment, I also felt fear, and that abated the need to cover myself once more in illumination.

  Somewhat.

  Still, I desperately needed to find out what this power was, and soon, so my heart lightened a bit as I pondered my journey to Hever. My heart told me I would get answers there, though I did not understand the premonition.

  October 1542

  Hever Castle, Kent

  The first item of business Kat had seen to was securing an invitation to stay at Hever. My Father’s fourth wife, Anna von Jülich-Kleve-Berg, lived in the castle but was currently staying at her main residence, Richmond Palace. Anna assured Kat that she would be more than happy to meet us at Hever, but that she could not arrive until a week after our desired date. Fortunately, she said it would be fine for us to come a few days early.

  The trip took an entire week. It was long and wet, and the roads were not superb. My thoughts were torn between Robert and my mother. Back and forth I went between tears of sadness for missing Robert and excited nervousness over what I would find out from my mother’s box. I hoped so much that inside this beautifully mysterious box I would find the answers to my questions.

  At the same time, the god-fearing part of my soul knew that if the contents of the box told me of unexplained powers that my mother and I shared—well that would mean all the people who had ever called my mother a sorceress were right. This thought burned my stomach, for that would mean I was a sorceress too, and I had never believed in that sort of nonsense.

  Finally, the castle came into sight. It was old but mighty and seemed unmodified, though the grounds were beautifully landscaped and the moat well hedged.

  As I entered the courtyard, I was surrounded with the light. I’d kept it at bay for the week and was shocked to have it appear so abruptly. It was as if it was pulled from me and around me. Instantly, I knew it to be a good sign. My gut told me I was in the right place, and I settled contentedly into the comfort of the brilliant girl of light that I was.

  The moment I walked through the doors, I was surprised by a life-size mural covering the opposite wall, portraying me as a tiny babe, and my mother, happy and richly dressed and jeweled. The colors were bright and beautiful, and the detail exquisite. One of my mother’s arms held me and the other rested on a book. Her eyes were alight with joy, and she seemed to look toward the door I had just come through. Her realistic expression impressed me. It felt as if she were smiling at me.

  I stepped closer and noticed how the mural was painted right onto the stones of the castle wall. This seemed a poor palette to me, but judging the elements of the artistry, one would never guess. This made me interested in the artist. As I stepped closer yet again, Kat came in after me, frightening me with a shrieking gasp.

  “Who would do something like that? It makes this place look like a tomb!”

  “Who would do something like what, Kat?” I looked at her, not understanding what she meant, and a little offended that this portrait could be construed as tomblike.

  She pointed at the wall and looked at me as if I were blind. “You can see for yourself, can you not?”

  “I see nothing that is offensive. It’s beautiful and hardly tomblike.” I was about to go on, but Kat cut me off, looking at me in an odd way.

  “Well it is not offensive, per se. There are those who would like it, I surmise, but you will have to admit it is extremely strange. An entry hall shroud in thick black tar paint is not typical décor. I challenge you to disagree with me,” she said, and shook the rain out of her cloak.

  I looked back at the wall and was speechless. I could not see black paint anywhere. All I saw was the beautiful mural. I opened my mouth to say so, but thought better of it when Kat lifted her head and muttered, “I do not understand it. Very strange indeed.” She entered the room to her left and I remained in front of the mural.

  I did not understand either. How was it possible for me to see something completely different from Kat? However disturbing the revelation might be, it spurred along that other hope: the one where my mother, my long-dead mother, had left me with a great secret, and I was in the right place to ferret it out.

  We spent the better part of the evening snooping around the castle. I did not tell Kat I knew exactly where I had to begin my search, and I wasn’t going to go staring at the mural while she was awake. I waited until nightfall.

  I lay in bed a long while before I dared tiptoe across our room and out into the hall. I grabbed the torch that was just outside my door and wandered through the castle until I was back at the entrance. Finally, I saw what Kat saw: a wall covered in a thick tar-like paint where the beautiful painting of my mother and I had been. My heart thudded crazily as I wondered if I had lost my chance. How could I find anything if I could no longer see the clue mother had left?

  Then I recalled that I had the power around me when I came in the door, and so I called it to me now. Abruptly, I was able to see. The mural looked so beautiful by firelight, and I admired it for a long time before I started looking for any clue. At first, everything seemed to be absolutely
ordinary, and I wondered about the seeming magic that made it. Was I the only one who could see this masterpiece? I examined every inch of the wall, but did not see anything hidden.

  So, I stepped back a few feet and started looking at the painting as a whole. Instantly, I saw how out of place and uncomfortable my mother’s position looked with one arm around me and the other awkwardly placed behind her, with her hand on a book. I then noticed that one of my tiny fingers was pointing in the direction of the book.

  Thinking of the old, dusty, rarely used library, I saw instantly that there was no better place in the world to hide something for years and feel a modicum of assuredness that it would remain undisturbed.

  I saw that the binding of the book had golden corner pieces and a small crescent moon cut into the leather. I drew closer to the wall and stood on my tiptoes to see what the name of the book was, but my mother’s hand covered it up. It did not matter. There could not be that many books that had a crescent moon carved into the binding.

  “I daresay there is but one,” I said quietly to myself, and touched a finger to my mother’s happy face before turning and heading back up to my room.

  As I walked, I wondered about the reason for the clue. If I were the only one who could see the mural, then why did she not just tell me where it was in letters of magic instead of painting a picture? I tried to think of a good reason for it, and all I came up with was that my mother was afraid that someone else would get involved…or perhaps she meant to test me in some way.

  Shaking my sleepy head, I decided it didn’t matter. If there was a test, I had passed. And as for anyone else being involved, I guess I would find out when I searched for the book if someone had gotten there before me.

  Episode 10

  October 1542

  Hever Castle, Kent

  Though Kat did not know exactly why, she helped me spend the next five days scouring the library for the strange little book. Unfortunately, the library at Hever was the biggest I had ever seen, and I felt like it was a test of my fortitude to continue searching for something that seemed not to exist. Worse, I felt anxious, as if time were running out. The hours I spent searching became longer and later, and finally, one night near midnight, Kat had had it.

  “I have spent so much time looking for this ridiculous book that I cannot see straight.” She took the book that was on the shelf right in front of her and said, “I am going to retire. I will see you in the morning, my Lady.”

  As she slipped the book into the crook of her arm, a thought came to me. “Kat.” She turned to look at me but placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Do you know where my mother’s room was? Here in the castle, I mean. Her room as a child, perhaps?”

  “I haven’t a clue,” Kat said and turned again to leave. But she called over her shoulder, “However, I am sure one of the older servants would know.”

  “Yes,” I said slowly. I was sure one of the servants would know. “Goodnight Kat, and thank you.”

  She turned before closing the door, “Wake me if you need help undressing. Goodnight, my Lady.”

  I knew I was acting rudely, but I did not care. I hunted down the servants’ quarters despite the time. They were quite empty, since Anna was not here to need them, but finally, I did happen upon an old woman who was up to use the privy. She was not happy about my request, but she led me to my mother’s old rooms, muttering the whole way as if I were a common visitor.

  “And this be Sir Thomas Boleyn and Lady Elizabeth Boleyn's suite.” The mistress explained as she put a key to the door. “Lady Anna has left the room alone at Lady Elizabeth’s request, which is a very odd thing. There is a nice little glass table in there that has a few family portaits, a gold-leafed crest, and a few family documents. Lady Elizabeth left it as a sort of tribute to her family. She was a proud lady and wanted all to remember that her daughter had been the queen, I think. You know that King Henry himself spent many nights here, and, in fact, we still have his lock on the door to his quarters.”

  “Excuse me, but in this tribute, there wouldn’t happen to be a book, would there? Perhaps one that has a small crescent moon cut into the binding?” I asked hopefully.

  “A book, a book…” The woman thought and smacked her gums loudly. “I’m sorry, my Lady, but I don’t recall any book at all.” She turned a corner. “This way. Hurry along.” After several more corners, the woman stopped in front of a door and said, “Here we are. And if you don’t mind, I will be going back to bed now. You think you can find your way back?”

  “Yes, thank you,” I said gratefully as I reached for the door and went in. This room had obviously been redone as a guest room, and a quick look around proved that there were no books, or anything, left of my mother’s.

  Being inside a room I was certain had been my mother’s did have a feel to it. She had spent much of her childhood here. I glanced at the stone floors and knew that her feet had touched them. In that moment, a spark of something started. For the first time I could remember, I felt connected to her.

  Of course, there was always gratitude to her for my life, but there was also anger. Why could she not keep Father happy? Why could she not just do what he wanted and stay alive? I was angry. I wanted her. I wanted to know her. I wanted to see her. I needed to ask her a million things about what was happening to me, and she was not here. All I had of her was this silly hunt she had me on. I clutched my dress and pulled at it as I silently screamed out in anger, and then I was crying. Tears and snot were running down my face as I flung myself on the bed. I pounded my fists into the pillows and wallowed in my grief.

  A long time later, I sat up and rubbed my soggy cheeks and tender eyes. This was the first time in my memory that I had cried over my mother. Everyone around me had protected me from the remembrance of her so that I would not hurt. Even I had hardened my own heart. However, now that I knew that I loved her, I missed her terribly. I did have snatches of her face in my memory but none of her words—none of her, really. I wanted her, because right now I was alone. Bitterly and utterly alone.

  Perhaps if I could see some of my mother’s things, or better, find something that I could keep and carry with me, I would feel the bond I now longed for. But, there was nothing in this room that was hers. Then, I remembered the servant’s words and thought, perhaps, the very reason Grandmother left a Boleyn family shrine here was so that I would have something to fill the growing void I now saw in my soul. Houses were passed around so frequently that if one did stay some place long, they very well might leave a shrine behind.

  I made up my mind to go and find my grandmother's rooms.

  The castle was cold, and I was glad that I had remembered to bring the torch for a small amount of warmth and light. Once I was in the hallway, the darkness was almost absolute. I did remember my way and soon stood at the door the servant had indicated was my grandmother’s.

  Pushing the creaky door aside, I entered the room to discover an astonishing layer of dust. Thankfully, all the furniture was covered with sheets of white cotton for protection, but there was no helping the drapes, which hung heavy and lifeless at the windows. I could see the moon through the grimy windows and instantly wanted the warmth and power that came from her magnificent beams, so I called the light to me. As my body began to glow, the darkness fled from my heart as well as from my surroundings. The power also seemed to heighten my senses. I looked at my glowing arms and could not be afraid. Finally, I understood the feelings I had the first time the light came to me. I was whole. This being, filled to the brim with power of whatever nature the power was, this was me. I was not complete without it.

  Quickly I looked around the room, which felt completely different now. There was something here that resonated with me now that I was shrouded in the light. No other place had ever held this feeling before. Comfort. Peace.

  These objects were my mother’s and grandmother’s.

  In a flurry of excitement, I grabbed hold of every cotton sheet I could get my hands on, an
d one by one, ripped the dust of time back. When the air settled, and I stopped sneezing, I saw the beautifully set room and imagined how it looked when my mother lived here, with everything clean, all in order, and the family here together. As I examined each piece in the room, I noticed a display desk with its hollowed-out center and glass top.

  I ran across the room to it and wiped off the remaining dust. Words were carved around the border of wood that held the glass up, and I read them aloud. “‘One day you shall catch a ray of moonlight—’”

  I hesitated, because I knew these words. I had dreamt about them not many nights before. I finished reading. “‘In the middle of a bright, starry night. Look to the women now beyond your sight, for they have bequeathed a brilliant birthright.’”

  I looked beyond the glass and saw several small miniatures of women. I could tell they were lined up in order of age, for the back images were painted on porcelain and some sketched on worn and yellowed paper. Each face was serene and beautiful. Each face was one I had seen in my dreams.

  Also, inside I saw a black leather-bound book with gold-plated corners and a small crescent moon carved into its binding. Excitedly, I felt around the edge of the desk to find the latch, but all I found was a lock.

  I wanted to curse. How would I ever find the key to this lock? I bent down to have a look at the keyhole and noticed a small, carved crescent moon only a few inches underneath. It was very small indeed and I never would have noticed it if I had not had plenty of light and a reason to look down. I touched the small moon and it moved backward. Startled, I pulled my finger away and looked more closely. There, on the exact spot where the moon was, the wood was cut into a perfect square and it moved out of my way when I pushed on it. The hole was just big enough for me to get my little finger through, and as I slid it in, I ran into a thick wire of some sort. Wrapping my finger around it, I pulled. Instantly, a small clicking noise sounded and, with my free hand, I pushed on the top of the table. It came up. It was a fake lock!