The Vizard Mask

by Diana Norman

  'Next.'

  'Wait on,' came an aggrieved voice from the shadows under the roof, 'brine bucket's full. We'm filling another.' But the cart tail was already being lowered and another man taken to the gibbet. Two more and it would be Barnabas Turvey's turn.

  'Missus.'

  She looked up. The boy was kneeling down so that he could speak through the slats. Her tears blurred her view of his face. It could have been Benedick's.

  'If you've pity, missus, take her from here.'

  She sobbed and nodded. His manacled hands were gently peeling Prue's fingers from his coat, and with all her strength Penitence tugged the girl away. They heard his voice call: 'Lord bless thee, Prue, and tell un I died a Monmouth.'

  In Fore Street, amazingly, a brightly dressed man approached her and doffed his cap as if he and she lived in a normal world.

  'Sir George's major-domo, dear lady,' he said, and said it again. With her arm around Prue she looked beyond him, unhearing.

  .. I see what it is, dear lady, you fear for your provisions. It's often so, but we bring our own, and a staff.'

  'What?' she said.

  'Have no fear. It will all be arranged. Sir George enjoys his little surprise visits, but in my experience the lady likes some warning to pretty herself.'

  What?' she said.

  'Mistress.' The man was becoming agitated and officious. 'Your attention would be appreciated. The Lord Chief Justice intends to surprise you for supper this night. He was pleased to say that, since Mahomet would not attend on the mountain, the mountain must come to Mahomet.'

  'What mountain?'

  It was only as she and Prue walked the ten miles home across the moor that she became collected enough to understand that the Lord Chief Justice of England had asked himself to the Priory for dinner.

  'Will he come, Muskett?'

  Tired as she was from the long walk home, Penitence paced the main bedroom because she couldn't keep still. After what she had witnessed in Taunton's market square that morning she could not look on her son where he sat by the window without seeing his body torn apart as the bodies of the men on the cart had been torn apart. She couldn't even rejoice that Martin Hughes was better. What was the point of his old carcase recovering if it too was to be quartered? He lay on the bed, the panel behind his head open in case they needed to use it quickly, and grumbled at Prue who was feeding him gruel because now and then she fell into a trance and stared at the spoon with sightless eyes.

  I want Henry. She was as helpless now as she had been on that day in the Rookery when he'd rescued her from her attackers. Mentally she crawled as she had then, a deer writhing from the dogs on its back.

  'He'll come, missus,' said Muskett.

  She was unreasonable in her panic. 'What if he does? He can't get Benedick away with the house full of Jeffreys' men. He'll miss the tide.'

  There's other tides.'

  Muskett was a rock, but she was unnerved by the sense that a destroyer was approaching her house with hastening, predestined steps. We'll be betrayed. The risk increased every second. They'd been lucky not to be betrayed before. And now, since the horror displayed outside the Castle today, who wouldn't scruple to tell the authorities that she was hiding a Dissenting rebel? After all, Lady Alice, held in higher esteem and greater affection than she was, had been betrayed, sold to the authorities by a woman in return for a husband who'd been arrested after Sedgemoor. How much easier to betray the former mistress of Prince Rupert and her canting uncle. Even those who'd originally given the old man shelter hadn't liked him enough to go on giving it. She didn't blame them. I don't like him much myself.

  He was grumbling again that Prue was withholding the next mouthful. It was the voice that had called damnation on her head a hundred times.

  'Shut your noise,' she snapped at him.

  She wouldn't care if he were captured, she wouldn't care if she were. It was Benedick that concerned her, only and totally her son.

  He was also grumbling. 'Mother, find me a sword and I can shift for myself. I'll make for the coast on my own.'

  'You shut your noise as well,' she told him. Still weak, in a countryside overrun with royalist troops, he'd be picked up in a day. Deliver my soul from the sword: my darling from the power of the dog. How exactly the psalmist had known her situation. Would Henry come? How would it help if he came? I just want him here. He was her deus ex machina. He'd delivered her from her enemies before, though then the enemies were simple robbers, not the ranged forces of the State.

  'Sit down, missus.' Muskett's square hands took hers and led her to the window-sill. 'You can watch for His Lordship and tell us what Judge Jeffreys plans for tonight. See if us can work out a plan of our own.'

  She hated to think what plans Jeffreys had for tonight. She tried hard to recall what his major-domo had told her. 'He's sending over his own household that travels with him to prepare the house and the dinner. A small affair, with a few friends.'

  Ah now. That's the way to go. Sneak the major down the north-wing stairs, like, when they're at table.'

  'It'd be terribly dangerous,' she said. 'Jeffreys' staff is large and I know he has a detachment of dragoons to guard him wherever he goes. They'll station men at the gatehouse to stop comings — and goings.'

  'A idea, though.' Muskett licked his finger and drew a line on the glass. 'Keep that un for later. What then?'

  'Well, then I suppose I provide the entertainment. Jeffreys wants me to sing. And, oh that's right, he wants me to do some Shakespeare.'

  'Play-acting?'

  'A soliloquy or two perhaps.'

  'And where'll you do that, missus?'

  She'd got his drift. The years passed her back to another time of horror, when another child had needed to be rescued. 'Oh, Muskett. We did it once. Your master and I. We lured the watchmen away from their posts.'

  "That's the way to go.' Muskett never smiled; everything he said was straightfaced, but she could tell he was pleased by the way he drew another, longer line on the glass. 'Put up a stage round the back. Away from the gatehouse, like. You and the captain do your luring. I'll get the major across the moat and away to the captain's yacht quick as a ferret.'

  Penitence said quietly: 'And the other gentleman?' She jerked her head towards the bed and Martin Hughes.

  'No,' said Muskett firmly.

  She didn't blame him. The old man was too old, too ill and definitely too unpredictable to make such a journey, especially at the speed at which Muskett and Benedick would have to travel. Well, she'd think of what to do with him when the crippling load of Benedick's danger was lifted off her shoulders.

  Muskett turned to Benedick. Tine actor, the captain. You ought to see him, Major.'

  'I'm not so bad myself,' said Penitence. The preciousness of the moments on the Cock and Pie balcony when she'd played Beatrice to Henry's Benedick were back with her. The horror of the Plague had eroded over the years; the memories strongest now were of human courage. She could recall in perfect detail the scene on the roofs opposite as she'd sung Balthazar's song: Mistress Palmer's face, Mistress Hicks's, the child attached to the chimney. They made her braver.

  'For the visage mask of actors do but hide the skull of sin,' shouted a voice from the bed. One of Martin Hughes's set responses had been stimulated by the word 'actor'.

  'We should have left him in the marsh,' Penitence said to Muskett. She was feeling better.

  The sergeant paid her no attention. He was regarding the old man with interest. 'Isn't there a play where there's a blackamoor masked?'

  'Othello? He's not played in a mask any more. We use lampblack. As a matter of fact...'

  She stared at the sergeant. He'd just spat liberally on his finger and wiped a large smear across the entire window. He bent down to put his impassive face directly opposite hers. 'That's the way to go, missus.'

  They had a few minutes to discuss the way before Judge Jeffreys's major-domo arrived at the head of a procession of carts bringing provisions an
d staff.

  Followed by Major Nevis with Sir Ostyn Edwards and a warrant to search the house. Followed by the Rt Hon. Viscount of Severn and Thames. Followed by the Lord Chief Justice of England, Sir George Jeffreys and friends.

  Nevis's men searched the house again under the apologetic aegis of Sir Ostyn Edwards. 'Proper sorry I be, Peg, but some bugger says old Martin Hughes is hiding hereabouts. Ah told that danged Nevis as you'd as soon shelter Old Nick. "Her's had him put in the stocks afore now," I toiu '.in but would he listen?'

  They stood in the hall, watching cupboards emptied, soot brought down the chimney, bayonets inserted between the stones of the wall to see if any could be dislodged. 'Proper pig of a man, and I told un,' said Sir Ostyn, 'but 'tis the military makes the law now. Of course, who he's after is the rebel Hurd. Bagged all the others, Wade, Ffoulkes and Goodenough, but not Hurd. Last seen being carried off the field in this direction, seemingly.'

  Penitence's hands clenched. The magistrate, puzzled, took one of them in his to comfort her and exclaimed at its coldness. He cocked a lashless eye at her face. 'Bain't seen any such animal, have thee, Peg?'

  'No,' she said, and he nodded in relief.

  I should be indignant. She should be protesting at Nevis's suspicions but she had to concentrate so hard on suppressing panic that she had no energy left for even spurious rage.

  A crash and shouts from upstairs told her that Nevis's instinct had again led him to concentrate his search on the main north-wing bedroom. She ran upstairs, followed by Sir Ostyn.

  Muskett, shouting, was being restrained by two of Nevis's men. If possible the room was in even worse condition than it had been after Nevis's previous search. The sliver of looking- glass had been ground under somebody's boot, every drawer lay scattered, the bed had been stripped down to its frame and her newly mended mattress once more torn open. The crash had been caused by the tester which had given way under the weight of one of Nevis's soldiers as he crawled into the space between it and the ceiling of the room. The bedhead, however, was still untouched.

  Now she was angry. Or panicked. Or both. She strode to the bed and pulled the soldier off it. For good measure she kicked him. Then she turned on Nevis. 'By what right do you do this again? I would remind you I am a loyal subject of King James and his late cousin's good friend. I shall inform the King of your repeated vandalism, and complain to the Lord Chief Justice when he dines here tonight.'

  'And so I will too.' Considering his previous reduction at Nevis's hands, Sir Ostyn was showing courage.

  Nevis was not impressed. She wondered what would impress

  Nevis. His face was not unpleasant but it was unmemorable. Away from him, when she tried to recall it, she couldn't bring it to mind because it was unrepresentative of the animosity she felt streaming from the soul behind it. There was no way to reach the man because he took no sustenance from people around him, apparently desiring nobody's goodwill but his own, following some route he had set for himself. She had impeded him; set up a block between him and the man he was hunting down. But he had the antennae of an ant, and like an ant would find a way up, round, down or across to his goal without ceasing, until he was squashed.

  He terrified her.

  He looked straight at her. 'He's here. I fucking know he's here. And I'm going to find him.'

  'Don't you swear to a lady, you varmint,' shouted Sir Ostyn, nostrils gaping. 'Ah'm going to speak to your colonel about this behavin' of yours ...'

  'Three,' said Nevis. He wasn't looking at the magistrate. He looked at Penitence. 'One. Hurd. Two. Martin Hughes. And now a man called Mudge Ridge. Three.'

  She swallowed. 'What about them?'

  'I've questioned a lot of people, lady. And people answer my questions when I ask them.'

  She could imagine his method of questioning.

  'Witnesses saw Hurd being carried in this direction. Witnesses saw a cart containing the man Hughes coming in this direction. And now, after a break-out at Ilchester gaol, the man Ridge, your bailiff, madam, is seen. By witnesses. Coming in this direction. Today.' His voice was flat; he used pauses as emphasis. He turned on the magistrate: 'Coincidence?'

  'Certainly 'tis,' said Sir Ostyn stoutly.

  'No.' His voice held the certainty of the world. 'There's a hidden room in this house. I'm having mallets fetched and I'm going to reduce these fucking walls to rubble 'til I find it.'

  'Not tonight, my dear man,' said a voice from the doorway. 'What a mess. Like a hen-house. But this is still the best bedroom in the house. Whatever you're going to do, it'll have to wait until tomorrow.'

  It was Jeffreys's major-domo, a willowy, middle-aged man in primrose brocade who kept cupping his face in his hands. He carried the Lord Chief Justice's authority but, more effectually, his concerns were so trivial that it was as if his limp fingers had snuffed out a lighted fuse. Neither Sir Ostyn nor Major Nevis could cope with him. Nevis gave Penitence a last look: 'I'm putting such a ring round this house tonight as a mouse won't get out. And tomorrow the walls come down.'

  When he'd gone, her legs gave way and she sat down on the bed to gather herself for the next fight. The major-domo had already set his minions on cleaning up the room. 'We'll need our mattress, and our sheets .. . We'll cover the tester with a curtain.'

  'This is my bedroom,' she told him.

  The major-domo's eyes opened wide: 'If Sir George stays, we'll need the best bedroom.'

  'Why would he be staying?'

  'Dear lady,' the major-domo wriggled his shoulders, 'if you don't know I'm sure I don't.' He plucked at his chain of office. 'We'll need a place to change after our day in court, regardless, so a bedroom we must have.'

  'Not this one.'

  He flung out his arms and huffed, but gave way. 'Oh. Very well.' He chose the bedroom next door instead.

  She had a horror of Jeffreys's arrival that was not only fear of its complications in getting Benedick away. Until this morning, she had thought of the man as a bully and tyrant, but nevertheless as faintly amusing in his delight at his prowess, an over-acting actor. Since the trial of Lady Alice and the sights and sounds of Taunton's market square the man had grown monstrous to her. She had seen the reality of his sentences, heard it, smelled it, known that he wouldn't scruple to apply it to her own son.

  I beg you, God. Don't let him come.

  She was thrown into another panic as the major-domo ordered the hall table to be set for dinner. 'Why not the dining-room?' she asked. The gargoyle's orifices had been unstopped to allow the two men in the secret room to breathe now that the door had to be shut on them. Every time she passed it she fancied she heard muttering.

  Too small, dear lady,' said the major-domo immediately.

  'How many people are coming for Heaven's sake?'

  The major-domo's hands pressed together under his cheek, like a child sleeping. He had the most meaningless set of gestures she'd ever seen. 'It depends what mood we're in. I've known us bring near a hundred.' He caught sight of her face, and showed his first bit of compassion. 'If you're worried for your supplies, dear lady, we've brought all with us.' He spoke no less than the truth. His people were already setting out epergnes and cutlery produced from green baize bags.

  A little of Penitence's self-respect as a householder came back. 'I have my own silver. We will use that.'

  'We only like the best, dear lady.'

  'I have the best.'

  Rupert's silver, brought with her from Awdes, opened the major-domo's eyes. 'Madam. Why didn't you say? From then on he treated her more courteously, which was a mixed blessing in that he tended to consult her on every point, which in turn meant that, in order not to seem on intimate terms with Muskett, she had to dismiss that invaluable sergeant from the bedroom.

  She employed the age that followed in dressing meticulously and employing every artifice and paint she could think of to make her face less haggard. Every few minutes she went to the window to look for Henry. He's not coming. It's useless. She watched the sun s
et and the moon rise. She watched Nevis throw a cordon round the far side of the moat and heard the frogs in the marsh begin their monotonous, bellowing courtship. She lit candles and went back to her mirror because fear had brought out beads of sweat on her top lip. She looked passable. She reminded herself of every ageing actress's rule: Keep your back to the light.

  The smell of the night grasses in the marsh was being subdued by the smells coming from the kitchen where she could hear Jeffreys's French cooks shouting at each other. The major-domo himself had taken the rest of his staff out to the grounds where, after consultation with her, the entertainment was to be held.

  Prue had been sent to stay the night at the vicar's house in the village. She had wanted to stay and Penitence had wanted to keep her, but as soon as Nevis and his men had arrived at the house the memory of the night she'd almost been raped had rendered her incapable of doing anything but tremble. Penitence missed her.