The Triple Goddess

by Ashly Graham

  He was not only Innocent in his Manners,

  But Virtuous upon Principle:

  His truly Amiable Temper,

  His sacred Regard to Truth & Sincerity,

  His Affection & Duty to his Parents

  Procured him the Love of all that knew him,

  That can only be Equalled by their Sorrow for his Loss.

  ‘That’s how my father thinks of Wat. After his death he adopted Henry, the Prince of Wales, as his surrogate, and when Henry died, allegedly of typhoid fever, it broke his heart for the second time.

  ‘The Prince shared my father’s love of the sea and enthusiasm for exploration, though Henry had no first-hand experience of it. His most valued possession was a model ship that Papa made for him as a child; he was clutching it as his spirit left him. He was a brave lad. He had no love for his father King James, and publicly expressed great affection and sympathy for Sir Walter. “No man but my father,” said Prince Henry, “would keep such a bird in a cage.”

  ‘Papa often quotes that remark, to contrast it with my own statement that, “Sir Walter Ralegh was condemned for being a friend to the Spaniard, and lost his life for being their enemy.” I got into very hot political water for saying that, I can tell you, but he thought no better of me for it.’

  ‘Frankly,’ said Arbella, ‘it seems to me that you are more like your father than Wat ever was. You have Sir Walter’s brains, and have repeatedly risked your career and livelihood in the pursuit of your beliefs. You created a great and enduring institution that epitomizes the highest standards of ethical behaviour. Lloyd’s of London is a symbol of trust and honour throughout the world. He should be proud of what you have achieved.’

  Carew pointed to the Tower and started to get up. ‘Shall we?’

  At the busy road they had to wait some time for a break in the heavy traffic of lorries belching diesel fumes; but finally the light at the junction of Byward Street and Great Tower Street turned red, and they dodged across.

  Carew led the way down Petty Wales to the Middle tower entrance to the Tower of London, where a Yeoman Warder was puffing his chest and bawling, ‘Nah then nah then let’s be ’avin’ yer’, to the tourists milling around the ticket office. ‘Move along there move along.’

  As before they were greeted and waved on through by Beefeater George, who hoped that Carew’s raven-damaged foot had healed satisfactorily, and that Arbella had not caught a chill after the thunderstorm. ‘You spend so much time ’ere, missy,’ he said, ‘you should consider becomin’ a tour guide. Then we’d be able to see even more of you.’ George nudged Carew and winked at him.

  They made directly for the Bloody tower and began climbing the stairs, with Carew taking them two at a time while Arbella followed slowly in her high heels on the uneven steps. At a landing there was a velvet rope across the foot of the staircase where it continued on up, and a sign on a stand advising that the level above was closed to the public until the following morning. Carew detached the brass hook from the ring on the wall, held the rope aside for Arbella, and reattached the rope behind himself.

  In front of them was a stout oaken door, cross-grained with iron bands and studs. Carew hammered on it and they waited in silence.

  After a moment there was a shuffling sound on the stone floor, a drawing of bolts, a jangle of keys and the clunk of the lock being turned twice. The door swung wide to reveal a small, harassed-looking man with shoulder-length hair like Carew’s, except that it was grey and lank. A hank of it stood out from the side of his head. He was dressed in a faded doublet and hose, over which a cotton apron with a frilly edge and orange flowers on it was tied at the waist. He was wiping his hands on a dish towel.

  The man started at the sight of Arbella and took a step backwards. Then he made a slight bow. ‘Good morrow, milady.’ Arbella heard his back click as he straightened.

  Arbella smiled. ‘Good morrow to you.’

  Before anyone could say anything further, there was a roar from within. ‘Grammaticus! Where is my coffee, sirrah? Cometh it from Africa? A man cannot expel berlady scholarship onto the berlady page without coffee and lots of it. And bring firewood and a shawl; methinks I think I caught a chill walking on the leads last night.’

  Ralegh’s servant Grammaticus, as Arbella assumed him to be, rolled his eyes. ‘Prithee come ye in, come ye in,’ he said. He closed the door behind them, locked it again, deposited the keys on a table by the entry way, and picked up an earthenware coffee-pot that had been set there. He must have been carrying it through from the kitchen when he was diverted by Carew’s knock.

  Arbella said, ‘Does he really need a fire going at this time of year?’ The sun was streaming through the open door from the living room windows and down the passageway.

  ‘Fires in summer, milady, open windows in winter. That’s the way he is.’ Grammaticus turned and shouted. ‘Master Carew is here, and...’

  ‘Send him away!’ came the blast from within. ‘Damn, that moth-eaten raven just be-shat my manuscript. God, what hath it been eating? And now it tryeth to bite me.’

  ‘Ravens do not bite,’ roared back Grammaticus, raising his eyebrows at Carew; ‘it is an edentulous species.’

  ‘The bird hath a beak the size of a mattock. I will pluck it for its quills to write with and have it roasted alive.’

  The ancient servant raised both arms to the low vaulted ceiling. ‘I cannot do a thing with him, Master Carew. Next week being the anniversary of Master Wat’s passing, he is even more crabbed than usual: something happened to disturb him a few days ago, but he will not talk about it. It might be a good time to stay away.’

  ‘Oh, we’ll risk it and I’ll take the blame as always. This is Miss Arbella, Grammaticus.’

  Grammaticus slapped a lean flank. ‘The nonpareil! Aye, I thought I recognized you, milady. But i’faith! Master Carew, this will make things worse, much worse. Begging your pardon, milady, but he has not seen you in a very long time. I am not sure that…’

  ‘Actually, Grammaticus, this is not Lady Arbella but a distant relative with the same name. Miss Arbella met Papa earlier in the week, during the storm when she took shelter in the hen-house. They had a long talk.’

  Grammaticus stepped up to Arbella and looked at her closely. He shook his head dubiously, as if he were unable to tell the difference between her and her predecessor. ‘If you say so, sir. That would explain his cantankerousness. I am sorry, mistress.’

  ‘Let’s go in,’ said Carew.

  ‘Be it your funeral, Master Carew. You had better lead the way.’

  After running both hands through his hair several times, so that now it was all standing upright, Grammaticus followed the pair into the main room. As they entered, Sir Walter Ralegh was swatting at the raven with a parchment scroll. The bird, whom Arbella recognized as Ebenezer, was hopping between pieces of furniture, easily avoiding his lunges and unperturbed. The exercise, she gathered, was a routine one.

  When the celebrated knight paused in his assault of the bird and turned round, Ebenezer settled onto the ledge under the diamond-leaded windows, and regarded the new visitor with eyes that were liquid and bright with intelligence.

  ‘It is about time, Grammaticus.’ Ralegh stiffened. ‘What is she doing here? River and moat, walls, drawbridge, portcullis...still people get in, like rats and just as welcome. I never have a moment’s peace. If individuals like her are so keen to gain access, the Warders should admit them, lock them in, and set me at liberty.’

  A cunning look crossed his face. Surreptitiously selecting an unshelled walnut from a bowl of mixed nuts, the knight rounded and slung it hard and accurately at the window.

  But Ebenezer was ready; catching the nut adroitly in his beak, he cracked it on the sill and began picking out the pieces. Ralegh scowled and a flush rose above his crisp ruffled collar to the tips of his ears.

  ‘Good afternoon, Father,’ said Carew. ‘I trust you are in good health.’

  ‘I am as thou findest me. What dost
thou desire?’

  Carew was calm. ‘To see you, Father, as ever, and to introduce Miss Arbella more formally.’ He gave Arbella an encouraging glance, and she stepped forward and extended her hand. After hesitating, Ralegh took it and she squeezed it a little harder than was necessary as he inclined his head.

  ‘May we sit?’ said Carew pleasantly.

  Ralegh, frowning, waved them to the chairs and took the couch for himself, where he sat straight-backed. There was silence until Grammaticus, who had put down the coffee-pot to leave the room, returned with a shawl and draped it around his master’s shoulders. ‘We are out of firewood until tomorrow’s delivery,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to make do with this.’

  ‘Cuds me! Nay, goest thou and...’

  Carew cleared his throat. ‘Father, Arbella works at Lloyd’s. She brought me some business and we’ve become acquainted.’

  Ralegh shrugged himself into the shawl and grunted. ‘She is bent on plaguing us all, then.’

  ‘Arbella much enjoyed your talk the other day, and wanted to see you again. I didn’t think you’d mind my bringing her.’

  ‘Mind? Yes, I mind. I mind thee pestering me at all hours of the day and interrupting my work. A murrain on both of ye!’

  ‘Father, I see you twice a week and only for an hour.’

  ‘My berlady Judge told me, “The statute you refer to is found to be inconvenient.” Today I find thy visit inconvenient.’

  Hoping to dispel the acrimony, Arbella spoke up. ‘In referring to your Judge, sir, you may also recall that, after you bested Sir Edward Coke in argument, the prosecutor turned his venom on Lady Arbella. Though you were counted amongst her most ardent supporters, you may vent your spleen on me now, if it will make you feel any better; but I don’t think that is the sort of person you are.’

  When Ralegh said nothing, she became bolder. ‘Actually, I was wondering whether you spent much time with Lady Arbella when she was here in the Tower. Do I look much like her? May I ask what you talked about?’

  ‘The chambers of torture and interrogation are elsewhere upon these premises. Grammaticus! Shalt thou serve the coffee today?’

  Grammaticus, who had been regarding Arbella with fascination, pulled himself together and poured. He served their guest first, followed by Carew, and the fuming Sir Walter; helped himself and sat down on a stool. Ralegh subsided into his cup. Then, addressing Arbella more politely, he said, ‘What dost thou think of the coffee? My younger son is indebted to me for introducing him to it. He then proceeded to pervert its wholesome properties to serve his usurious ends.’

  ‘The coffee is excellent, Sir Walter, thank you, and thank you Master Grammaticus.’

  The knight picked up a leather tobacco pouch from an occasional table at his side, and his silver pipe from a bowl. Tapping ash into the bowl, he filled the pipe, tamped down the tobacco, and lit it with a taper that Grammaticus held to a large flat candle burning on the hearth and brought to him. He sucked fiercely on the mouthpiece and was soon enveloped in smoke.

  Arbella sniffed the aromatic tang appreciatively, and yearned to smoke one of her own cigarettes. ‘It is said, sir, that when you were, er, executed in Old Palace Yard at Westminster you were in good spirits, ate a hearty breakfast and smoked that very pipe. However on a previous occasion you denied that you “pufft Tobacco out in disdayne” when from that window you watched Essex go to the block, where two headsmen were awaiting him so that “if one faint, the other may perform it.”’

  ‘What dost thou know of Essex?’

  ‘That he was your enemy, and the man who supplanted you in the Queen’s affections. Although both of you were blamed for failing to capture the Spanish treasure fleet at Cadiz, the fault was his.’

  Ralegh looked pleased, and rewarded Arbella by blowing several smoke rings at her. As they travelled they held their shape, stopping in front of her nose. Then he blew another one, larger and thicker, towards Ebenezer. It encircled the bird like the body of a snake as if it would crush him, and the raven croaked in umbrage and fluffed his black-green iridescent plumage to dispel it.

  ‘Now then, young lady, tell me what else thou knowst about my death-day.’ He leaned back into the couch.

  ‘You put on extra clothes in the morning against the cold, so that no one would think you were shivering from fright. When you were brought out, you shook hands with a number of the assembled lords, knights and gentlemen, and launched into a lengthy speech. Some say that the witness who noted it may have embellished the words somewhat, but it is believed that what has come down to us is more or less verbatim.’

  ‘He left out several witticisms of which I was especially proud, having spent much time in their preparation. Which was unforgivable, since I gave him the script. Otherwise every word was as I spoke it.’

  ‘“This is a sharp Medicine,” you said of the axe, “but it is a Physitian for all Diseases.” And of the block: “So the Heart be right, it is no matter which way the Head lieth.” You also taunted the king: “What have I to do with Kings?,” you said; “I have nothing to do with them, neither do I fear them.”

  ‘And when the headsman hesitated, you cried, “Strike, man, strike; what do you fear?” There was said to have been a supernatural effusion of blood, and someone in the audience shouted, “We have not such another head to cut off.” There were a number of other obiter dicta, but as Tacitus said, “This, as a thing about which I have no certain information, I shall leave untouched.” You quoted that somewhere in your writings.’

  Ralegh spoke ex cumulo. ‘Thou art a well-educated girl.’

  ‘My father sent me to what he considered to be the right schools, and I was “finished” in Switzerland.’

  The knight put down his pipe to stare at her. Most strange to Arbella was that, as the smoke around him dispersed, he came back into such sharp focus—with his outline as sharp and real as one of those Swiss alpine peaks against a blue sky—that she had to look away.

  Ralegh seemed amused. ‘Tacitus also remarked that, “In all battles the eyes are vanquished first.”’

  It was not just the remark: suddenly Arbella felt very out of place and anxious to leave.

  Getting up, she said, ‘I was not aware that we were antagonists, sir. But you weren’t expecting me and I am conscious of intruding, so I am going to leave. I have a lot of work to do and I really shouldn’t be here at all. Mr Carew has given a wonderful lift to my career and I don’t want to let him down. So I think it would be a good idea if I left the two of you alone.

  ‘One thing I will say, Sir Walter, before I go: it’s none of my business, but in my opinion it is more than high time that you mended your relationship with your son; and from what little I’ve seen of you so far I would say that you are the one who needs to make the effort. Thank you very much for the coffee, Master Grammaticus. Gentlemen...’

  Unsure of how to effect her exit with dignity, Arbella half-curtsied and walked to the door.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘Hold!’ Ralegh coughed, examined his pipe, tapped it out again and reached for the tobacco pouch. As he refilled the bowl he scattered shreds of leaf over his chest and on the floor. These attracted the attention of Ebenezer, who hopped down with a thump, waddled over and began gobbling them up. Then he flapped back to the embrasure and was sick out of the window.

  Sir Walter winced and turned to Arbella. ‘What grounds dost thou have for making such a remark?’

  ‘None that shouldn’t already be obvious to you. For all your fame, you are an arrogant and selfish man, who has repaid filial support with unpaternal contempt. Worn down by your scorn and insensitivity, it’s hardly surprising that Mr Carew lost interest in his work. Your constant carping and criticism cannot but have taken a toll on him over such a long period.

  ‘Furthermore, you have wilfully ignored the fact that he has been just as much of a pioneer as you, in his way, and a great deal more successful in his business ventures. Whereas the insuring of privateers like yourself
, who were nothing more than pirates, was what the men of Lloyd’s would euphemistically call a bad risk, the protection that Lloyd’s has afforded over the centuries to honest commercial shipowners was responsible for making this country the powerhouse of Europe from the Elizabethan age onwards.

  ‘Since then Lloyd’s has underwritten the trading activities of every country in the world, whether girt by sea or landlocked, in both their marine and non-marine ventures.

  ‘You of all people should appreciate this, and give your son credit for it. Mr Carew is, unlike yourself, an active living legend. So although I’m sure you have no use for my advice, I suggest that you spend less time worrying about your image and the quality of your clothing, and show more appreciation towards those who love you. Your longevity has given you the opportunity to make amends, and you should shape up or ship out.’

  Nobody moved, and Arbella noted that Carew’s expression was frozen into an expression that was a mixture of horror and amazement. Ebenezer cawed several times, which she took to be the corvine equivalent of applauding, and the sound was painfully loud. When Ralegh got up, removed a large dusty irregular-shaped object from a shelf, and flung it at the bird it did not bother to move and the object smashed against the wall.

  Despite his dressing-down, Sir Walter did not sound nettled or aggrieved as he sat down again and said, ‘Though fortune was against me on my expeditions, had it been otherwise the Treasury would have benefited greatly from them.’

  Continued Arbella doggedly, ‘To which end King James—whom you consistently portray as being as antipathetic to you as you were to him—gave you a last chance by freeing you, at sixty-four years of age, to go on yet another voyage. Had it been profitable, indeed your fate might have been different, and the achievement celebrated like those of your mentor and hero Sir Francis Drake: a man who unlike you could always be relied upon to fill the Treasury’s coffers.