Lily turned her gaze away from where Romney Lee had disappeared into the crowd and glanced toward the river and the tall-masted ships she could see riding at anchor downstream. Shielding her eyes against the glare, she searched the tall masts, looking for the ship she had once sailed aboard to England. Where was the Madrigal? Was she sailing the seas of the Spanish Main? Was her captain pacing the deck, searching for a distant sail on the horizon? Was he safe? Would he soon return to England and to Ravindzara? Where was Valentine Whitelaw? Lily wondered.
“Lily? Will we get to see the queen?” Dulcie asked, waking from her nap where she’d been curled up next to Raphael’s sleeping form.
“Not this time, Dulcie.”
“Why not? Doesn’t she like us anymore? I’ve almost finished my gift for her.”
“She may not be in London this time of year,” Lily tried to explain without bluntly stating that Elizabeth might not wish to have criminals presented to her. A warrant for their arrest had most likely already been signed. If he tried to get to the queen to tell her what really happened that night, they’d be arrested on the spot and sent to the Tower before they could open their mouths, Lily thought.
“Where is she?”
“I’m not certain. She may be at her palace in Greenwich, or upriver at Richmond or Windsor. She has many palaces and royal manors she visits, Dulcie. She may even be traveling on one of her great progresses through the realm. She doesn’t like to stay in London during the summer months.”
“She came to Highcross once, didn’t she?”
“Yes, but that was a long time ago,” Lily answered, glancing away from the tall masts.
“Will we still be here when she returns to London?”
“I doubt it, Dulcie.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the North Country.”
“Is that where Maire lives?”
“Yes.”
“Are we going to see her again?”
“I hope so. ‘Tis why we joined the troupe, Dulcie, so we could travel north to where she now lives. Maire will know what we should do. she will help us.”
“I’m glad we joined the fair, Lily. I like dancing all day long. I don’t ever want to return to Highcross.”
Lily shivered, remembering the night they’d fled Highcross-the night Hartwell Barclay had died . . .
It was a nightmare she had yet to awaken from. She could still hear Tillie’s wailing, accompanied by Raphael’s howling, echoing around the chamber. Hartwell Barclay’s big, bare feet were sticking out of the scented bath water, while Cisco, who’d swooped down to investigate so strange a sight, sat perched on the edge of the tub, his giggling laughter and unfortunate comments ringing in Lily’s ears. Dulcie was huddled on the bed, her eyes wide with shock, but when Tristram started talking about hanging, Dulcie began to cry and hurried to her side to be comforted. Cappie started to chatter and, swinging down from atop the bed, had scampered over to the tub. He was examining Hartwell Barclay’s big toe when a high-pitched scream brought a sudden stillness to the room.
Standing in the doorway, her mouth hanging open, was the cook.
“Ye’ve murdered him! The master be dead! He be murdered! Ye witch! Witch! Always knew ye’d bring misfortune to this house!” she cried, pointing a shaking finger at Lily.
“But I--” Lily began, taking a step toward the terrified woman.
“Don’t come near me, murderess! Ye’ll be hanged fer this! Don’t come near me! Murder! Murder!” she cried, running down the corridor.
“Murder! Murder! Praaack! Witch! Witch!” Cisco hissed, ruffling his feathers.
“ ‘Sdeath! What’s happened?” Farley Odell had demanded, standing in the opened doorway, a stunned expression on his face. “Fool woman nearly knocked me down,” he complained indignantly.
“Oh, Farley! He tried to rape me! Only ‘twas Mistress Lily he wanted. Oh, Farley, I’m goin’ to have a baby!” Tillie cried, hopping down from the bed and flinging herself against Farley’s chest.
Farley Odell, for once in his life, was speechless.
“Ah, now, Tillie dear, don’t get yerself excited. Can’t be knowin’ something like that so soon,” Farley tried to calm her, wondering how on earth they’d deal with Hartwell Barclay’s bastard child, for if it was true, then he’d personally see that Hartwell Barclay sired no more brats in this world.
“Nooooo, ‘tisn’t his, ‘tis yours, Farley Odell!” Tillie cried, burying her tearstained face against his chest.
“Mine?” Farley said, dumbfounded.
“I’m goin’ to have yer baby, only they’ll think ‘tis his, and that I murdered him, instead of the mistress, Farley!” she cried. “They’ll hang us both!”
“Murdered? He’s dead, then?”
“Lord help us, Farley! What the devil’s goin’ on?” Fairfax demanded, his large form filling the doorway. “I thought ye just came up here to tell Tille we were leavin’.”
“Leavin’! Ye’re runnin’ out on me? Oh, Farley Odell, how can ye be doin’ such a thing to me after ye said ye loved me? And me growing big with yer child?” she squealed, pushing Farley away from her.
“Now look what ye’ve done, Fairfax,” Farley muttered, trying to quiet the moaning Tillie.
“ ‘Tweren’t me who did the deed, Farley,” Fairfax responded with a sly grin as he walked over to the tub. “Good Lord! ‘Tis Master Barclay! What’s he doin’ in here, and in his nightgown?” he demanded, glancing around for some explanation, but Farley was busy trying to explain to Tillie that he wasn’t running out on her.
“Ye mean ye came here to get me? To take me away with ye and Fairfax?” Tillie exclaimed, her tearful sobs quickly silenced.
“Of course, what kind of man d’ye think I be, Tillie Thaxton? Ye oughta be ashamed of yerself for even thinkin’ such a thing of me,” Farley said with a grievous glance at her.
“Be Tillie Odell, now, won’t it, Farley?” she asked shyly.
“It’d better,” Fairfax answered for his brother. “Don’t want my nephew growin’ up a bas--” he began, then turned a bright red as he remembered Dulcie, and Tristram, for despite what they’d said, no one had ever completely believed Tristram to be who he claimed to be.
“What are we going to do, Lily?” Tristram asked, unable to draw his eyes away from Hartwell Barclay’s crumpled figure in the tub. “The cook thinks you murdered Hartwell. I told you no one would believe you. She’ll tell the constable that. They’ve always hated us. They’ll hang you, Lily. and after tonight, after what Farley and Fairfax and I did, they’ll probably hang us, too,” he whispered, his voice quivering.
“They can’t hang Lily!” Dulcie screamed, her shrill cries causing Raphael to begin barking excitedly.
“Surely they will listen to my side of what happened,” Lily said, looking at Farley and Fairfax, but their doubtful expressions told her otherwise. “I will tell them the truth. They must believe the truth,” Lily repeated softly, but her heart was pounding as she remembered the way the cook had looked at her and called her a witch. then Lily remembered Mistress Fordham’s angry, suspicious words of just two days before when she’d accused her of bewitching her son and causing her daughter to trip and break her leg so she couldn’t go a-Maying and wouldn’t be crowned Queen of the Maay. And, Sunday last, the Reverend Buxby and ranted from the pulpit about harlots and those who would lead innocent men into sin. The village would be certain to believe Hartwell Barclay had been the innocent victim.
Lily swallowed the fear rising from the pit of her stomach. Who indeed would believe her? Tristram was right, no one would.
“Mistress Lily?” Farley had interrupted her desperate speculations. “Fairfax and me, well, we’ve got to leave Highcross. Nothin’ else for us to do after tonight. And we’ve been thinkin’ that ye oughta come with us. Won’t do any good to remain here. Them villagers are likely to burn the place to the ground before they give ye a chance to make any explanations.”
“Oh, Mistress Lily
, please listen to him. Farley is speakin’ the truth, and I’m that powerful scared fer ye safety, too,” Fairfax added, and the fear in his eyes was what finally decided Lily to take their advice-at least that way they might live long enough to tell their side of the incident.
While Farley and Fairfax carried down to the stables the trunk Lily quickly packed with her clothes and possessions, she helped Dulcie and Tristram gather up their own belongings, taking only what was thought would be necessary for the next few weeks. She couldn’t believe that they would be fugitives for much longer than that. It was while she was feverishly hunting under Dulcie’s bed for the red slipper, that Lily realized where they must go. Maire Lester. She would know what to do. She was the only one who could help them. And they would have a safe place to stay until they were cleared of all suspicion in Hartwell Barclay’s death.
Farley and Fairfax hitched the oxen to the cart and brought it around to the entrance. Tristram, Dulcie, and Tillie squeezed in, along with the trunks and bundles and an excited Cappie and Raphael. And from somewhere in the jumble, Cisco’s giggles caused Lily more than one nervous glance over her shoulder as she rode Merry Andrew alongside the cart. Farley and Fairfax did not inform her until later that the reason they’d had so little trouble in the stables, was that the groom, Hollings, hadn’t been there. The cook must have sent him to the village to warn the authorities. A horse had been missing, and Hollings had been sound asleep when they’d returned with Tristram after their escapade in the churchyard. The cook they had found barricaded in her room and crying murder. And just in case she found her courage, they’d blocked the door from the outside as well.
A pale sliver of moon was the only witness to their escape from Highcross as they rumbled down the lane. Entering East Highcross, Lily felt as if every window held a pair of peering eyes even though the village remained quiet. But Lily held her breath with every clop of Merry’s hooves and creak of the cart along the village’s narrow, cobbled street. The only lights came from the Oaks and the church at the far end of High Street, but before reaching the church they turned off the main street and followed the lane winding along the river.
Safely through the village, they traveled slowly along the deeply rutted road. They had no destination, just a desire to put distance between themselves and Highcross. The moon had risen higher by the time they reached the mill just north of the village and a figure suddenly stepped into the lane, blocking their path and startling the animals.
It was Romney Lee. He’d been walking back from the village, and an evening spent at the Oaks, when he’d heard the sound of the cart. He’d heard about the scare at the church and hadn’t been surprised to find Farley and Fairfax on the road. But Romney Lee was startled to discover who was accompanying them.
Hoping to convince at least someone of their innocence, Lily told Romney what had happened at Highcross. His good humor quickly fled when he realized the danger. Convincing them that they could not get very far before dawn, when the villagers would surely be out looking for them, he insisted they hide the cart at the mill until evening, when they could travel under darkness.
That day seemed the longest Lily had ever spent. They remained hidden behind the mill, believing every sound threatening and every minute brought them closer to being arrested. Romney Lee left them to go into the village to learn what he could about the search for them. He’d even gone to Highcross, to discover what had happened after they’d fled. Returning just before dusk, Lily read in his expression the hopelessness of their predicament.
But Romney Lee did not despair, nor did he abandon them. He made a suggestion. Would they like to join the troupe of vagabonds and gypsies he traveled with? Farley and Fairfax were at first reluctant. They didn’t trust Romney Lee, but as he spoke, they began to realize how helpless they were.
What better way to travel north, without causing suspicion, than with a group of players, dancers, jugglers, and peddlers going from fair to fair, Romney Lee asked? Where were they going? North? A long journey, indeed. Did they have money? No? Where were they going to stay during the nights? Where were they going to hide during the day when the authorities were searching for them? Farley and Fairfax exchanged glances, nodding slightly, for Romney Lee’s reasoning held the answer to the problem that had been worrying them since they’d made their decision to flee Highcross.
Hearing about the angry mob of villagers that had arrived at Highcross, and how there had been talk at the Oaks of gallows and burnings at the stake for witches, Lily agreed.
It still amazed her, she thought now, gazing down at the crowded booths and tents of the fair, how easily they had adapted to traveling with Romney Lee’s vagabond band. At first, their arrival had been greeted with suspicious, unfriendly glances, but when they’d started bringing in customers and paying their own way, they had been grudgingly accepted. But Lily knew that for some, suspicion had turned to resentment.
They asked nothing of anyone. They had their own cart, which they’d arranged with their trunks and possessions so she, Dulcie, and Tillie would have a comfortable, safe place to sleep in at night. Since it was warm, Tristram, Farley, and Fairfax slept on the ground beside it. Lily hadn’t thought what would happen when winter came and the weather grew cold, or when Tillie’s time came and there would be a newborn babe to care for. but for now their oxen proved strong and sturdy and pulled their cart, now decorated in bright colors, along the dusty lanes. They had never fallen behind or caused the rest of the troupe to be delayed.
Until recently they’d done little more than take part in the procession and stroll through the fair to attract customers to various booths and games. But because of Romney Lee’s inspiration after overhearing the tale Lily had been telling to Dulcie and Tillie one evening, they now had their own booth and puppet show, performed several times a day before an appreciative audience that seemed to grow larger after each performance.
“Oh, there ye be, Mistress Lily. I’ve been searchin’ all over fer ye.”
Lily glanced up to see Tillie approaching, her step slow and her breath labored, for she was well into her pregnancy now and had a difficult time in getting around. Lily eyed Tillie’s ballooning shape worriedly. She’d never seen anyone get so big. Poor Tillie. Lily wondered sometimes how Tillie’s thin legs managed to hold her upright when she tottered around, unable to see her own feet.
“Farley is gettin’ mighty nervous. Says the show starts in just a few minutes, mistress. Ye don’t want to be late, now. Oh, ‘tis such a crowd, mistress! I’ve never seen so many people. Where do they all come from?” she said in awe. “Ye’d best be stirrin’ them bones of yours, Fairfax. Ye’ve got another wrasslin’ match within the hour. I hope ye can win this one, Fairfax. There’s a goodly sum in the purse fer the winner,” she told him with the candor her position as his sister-in-law allowed her.
Fairfax yawned and stretched and opened one eye. “ ‘Tis only one match, Tillie, that I’ve lost. And I wouldn’t have lost that one if that cider squeezer’s mother hadn’t hit me from behind when I had him eatin’ mud,” Fairfax defended his only loss as he got to his feet. “Come along, I’ll walk ye both back to the booth,” he offered, and unable to glance away from Tillie’s bulging belly, he shook his head and wondered about that brother of his.
Lily stood up and shook out her skirts and petticoats, then brushed the grass from Dulcie’s while she straightened the ruff around Raphael’s neck. With a shrill cry, Cisco flew out of the tree and perched on Lily’s shoulder, receiving an almond from Lily’s palm as he settled. Cappie put on his hat and hopped up on Raphael’s back, ready for the ride through the crowd.
“Oooh, me back aches. Never ached this much when I was scrubbin’ floors at Highcross,” Tillie murmured, wondering that she’d ever found pleasure in Farley Odell’s arms.
“I’ll get you a stool to sit on behind the booth, Tillie,” Tristram offered, coming up beside them and handing Merry’s reins to Lily.
“Reckon ye’ll be lookin�
�� fer a bench soon, if her backside gets any broader,” Fairfax guffawed, dodging as Tillie took a swing at his shin with the toe of her shoe and would have lost her balance and fallen if he hadn’t steadied her.
“And surprised I am, Fairfax Odell, that ye haven’t snow capping that thick-skulled head of yours, so high in the clouds ye be,” Tillie retorted.
Lily smiled as she listened to Tillie and Fairfax’s good-natured banter. Glancing around as they followed a weaving path into the fair, she had to admit that Romney had been right about the size of the crowd today. But she could see little beyond Merry’s shoulder bumping against her on the right or Fairfax’s tall figure overshadowing her on the other side, and so Lily didn’t see the tall man who passed within a foot of her.
Many things, having full reference
To one consent, may work contrariously;
As many arrows, loosed several ways,
Fly to one mark; as many ways meetein in one town;
As many fresh streams meet in one salt sea...
So many a thousand actions, once afoot,
End in one purpose, and be all well borne
Without defeat.
SHAKESPEARE
Chapter Eighteen
Wild Bells to the Wild Sky Page 36