Elegy for a Queen

by Margaret James

  ‘How is Gavin these days?’ Julius asked, as Susannah put his coffee on the trestle table.

  ‘Fine when I last saw him,’ said Susannah, shrugging. ‘He’s going to be an engineer.’

  ‘How dull for him, and how unfair – he’s such a pleasant fellow. But we may hope he’ll civilise the other engineers, and what a great achievement that would be.’ Julius smiled conspiratorially. ‘My dear Susannah, it’s no good, I must let you into a shameful secret.’

  ‘Oh?’ Susannah felt her colour rise, and she fidgeted uncomfortably. ‘Actually, I should be getting back.’

  ‘I shall be just one moment.’ Julius took her hand in his, so she was neatly trapped. ‘Sir Alec Fletcher asked me to come to Marbury today, to see if Miss Collins is doing everything as he would wish. My dear Susannah, I am nothing but a spy.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Susannah breathed again. ‘So what have you decided?’

  ‘Your friend is very competent, of that I have no doubt, so I shall assure Sir Alec all is well.’ Julius stirred his weak and milky coffee, which Susannah could see he didn’t like and wasn’t going to drink. ‘You have found some wonderful things,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Susannah. ‘But this whole excavation’s been so interesting for me that even if we’d only found some bones, it would have been enough.’

  ‘Mere bones don’t catch the fancy of the public – or of politicians.’ Julius looked into Susannah’s eyes. ‘I think you’ve found the grave of Lady Aelwyn.’

  ‘Do you?’ said Susannah. ‘Your colleagues writing in the Sunday papers seem to think she was Alfred’s daughter Aethelflaed, the Lady of the Mercians.’

  ‘My colleagues are a century out of date. Aethelflaed died in 918, and she is buried in Gloucester.’

  ‘Well, the Chronicle says she’s buried in Gloucester,’ said Susannah.

  ‘This burial took place nearly a hundred years before the Lady Aethelflaed was laid to rest.’ Julius tapped Susannah’s wrist with one long, bony finger. ‘More to the point, she lived into her forties, she was old – or at least middle-aged.’

  ‘But our poor lady died when she was twenty.’ Anxiously, Susannah looked at him. ‘Julius, please don’t tell the papers. We don’t know. Perhaps we’ll never know.’

  ‘I have no desire to join in any public wrangling.’ Julius met her gaze. ‘You and I – perhaps we’ll write a paper, one fine day?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ agreed Susannah.

  ‘You English know so little of your history,’ sighed Julius. ‘All this silly talk of winter queens and warrior ladies, it’s such nonsense. In Saxon times – in every Dark Age culture – most women and girls were chattels, nothing more. Any good historian should be able to tell you that.

  ‘Susannah, why was this girl so thin, so small? Why are her bones so fragile? Because, like all her sex, she didn’t count. In that fierce warrior society, men had the best of everything, and they grew big and strong. The women took what was left.’

  ‘But, Julius – if Aelwyn was a queen, if the men obeyed and followed her, she must have been a very forceful person. She must have had charisma, mustn’t she?’

  ‘My dear, I’m sure she did. While other women served their men with meat, and gnawed the bones themselves, our lady led her warriors into battle. She dared defy the power of Mercia. She must have been a most unusual woman.’

  Susannah stirred her own untasted coffee. ‘Janet says Sir James Tremain went into the museum yesterday. Julius, do you know him?’

  ‘Yes, he’s a metallurgist,’ said Julius. ‘What did he have to say?’

  ‘He thinks all the Wellesley stuff was made in Marbury or thereabouts, and that it’s pure Welsh gold. Well, we’re on the border here, and there is some evidence that the Saxons traded with the Britons. But Julius, if Sir James is right, the Wellesley Hoard is literally priceless.’

  ‘Let us hope it’s guarded well,’ said Julius.

  ‘Yes.’ Susannah thought, it’s now or never. ‘Thank you for a delicious lunch that time. We both enjoyed it.’

  ‘I enjoyed it, too.’ Julius smiled benignly. ‘You must come again. In fact, I’m having a dinner party on the twenty-third. Just some friends from Trinity. I would be delighted if you and Gavin could come.’

  ‘I’ll have to ask him if he’s busy.’ Susannah made one last effort to trip him up. ‘That chocolate mousse was wonderful. What was in it? Brandy? Armagnac?’

  ‘My dear, I couldn’t tell you. I sent out for it. A lady who lives in Summertown does all the cooking for my little parties, and she provided everything that day.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Susannah shrugged, defeated. ‘Julius, you’re very pale,’ she said. ‘You’re shivering, too. Do you feel all right?’

  ‘I’m an old man, I’m often sick, I’m made of bones and paper.’ Julius touched Susannah’s hand again, and she felt his was frozen. ‘My dear child, you have a heart of gold. But there’s no need to worry about me.’

  Julius spent another hour or two at Little Wellesley, chatting to the diggers. He said he’d seen a dowser work a miracle before, that it was not black magic, some people were just hyper-sensitive.

  Anyone could stamp on a cellar trapdoor, and know there was a hollow underneath. So of course a dowser could find infill, and feel the presence of metal or other minerals underground.

  ‘I agree that business with the hazel twig is foolish,’ he continued. ‘A little bit of showmanship, I think. But we don’t mind that.’

  ‘Just as long as we find what we were looking for,’ said Janet.

  ‘Exactly.’ Julius smiled. ‘My dear Miss Collins, you look tired today. You must not exhaust yourself.’

  ‘Oh, I shan’t do that,’ said Janet, grimly. ‘Well, not for what Sir Alec pays me, anyway,’ she murmured, as she turned away.

  * * * *

  Julius left the site. The afternoon grew dark and dismal, and Susannah could see that Janet did seem very tired. ‘I think you’re overdoing it,’ she said. ‘You look as if you’re getting a cold, as well. Perhaps you should knock off now. Go home, and have an early night.’

  ‘Yeah, I might do that.’ Janet rubbed her eyes and winced. ‘I’ve got the mother and father of a headache.’

  ‘Come on, Jan, I’ll drive you home,’ said Mike.

  The following morning, Janet was at work by eight, saying she felt much better. But when they went for coffee, she took one sip, then gagged.

  ‘Jan, what’s wrong?’ asked Anna.

  ‘Dunno.’ Janet shrugged. ‘I hope I’m not in pig. Last month, I met up with this guy I used to know at college. We had a merry Christmas.’ She glanced up at Susannah. ‘Oh, it’s just some bug.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have come out today.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ Then Janet retched again. ‘God, I hate these bloody fluorescent lights,’ she muttered. ‘Suke, you can drive the Transit, so will you take me home?’

  Susannah drove Janet back to Marbury. But by the time they reached the outskirts of the city, Janet looked so awful that Susannah was really scared. ‘This isn’t just a bug,’ she said. ‘It’s something worse than that.’

  ‘Please don’t talk!’ cried Janet. ‘God, my head is bloody killing me.’

  Susannah turned off the ring road, drove to the city centre and stopped outside the A&E at Marbury Royal Infirmary.

  As she staggered through the double doors, by this time almost carrying Janet, a nurse came hurrying up. ‘It’s okay, love, ‘ she said, ‘I’ll take her weight on this side, right?’

  She turned to the receptionist. ‘I reckon we’ve got another one,’ she said. ‘Better bleep Dr Hartland now, okay?’

  A second nurse appeared, and then a porter. They lifted Janet on to a nearby trolley, then set off down a corridor, with Susannah following them. ‘What’s wrong?’ she demanded, as she ran. ‘What do you mean, you’ve got another one?’

  ‘Stay calm, my love,’ the nurse replied. ‘Your friend will be all right.’

  Cr
ashing through more double doors, they went into a small, white room, where half a dozen people converged on Janet’s prostrate body. A doctor came, glanced at the patient, nodded to a nurse.

  They hooked Janet up to monitors. They put her on a drip. They took some blood and stuck grey clips on both her middle fingers and her toes.

  ‘We couldn’t find a decent vein at first,’ a nurse explained, as Susannah stared in horror at the blood all over Janet’s hands. ‘She’s very dehydrated.’

  ‘Excuse me, would you like to come this way?’ A doctor touched Susannah’s arm, then led her to a side ward. ‘You’re the young lady’s sister? Or a friend?’

  ‘A friend.’ Susannah stared at him. ‘What’s happening, what are you doing to her, what’s wrong?’

  ‘We’ve stabilised her for the moment, so now we’re going to send her for a scan. She might have had a sort of stroke. Does her family live locally?’

  ‘I don’t know where they live.’ Susannah was in shock. ‘I c-could find out for you,’ she stammered.

  ‘Great,’ the doctor said. ‘But you can tell us enough to be going on with, like her name, address and stuff. You don’t look too good yourself,’ he added. ‘I’ll ask one of the ward staff to look after you, but try not to worry, as soon as there’s any news we’ll let you know.’

  * * * *

  Susannah sat holding a cup of tea and waiting. She flicked through tattered magazines. She stared at the ticking clock. Finally, a doctor came to find her. ‘You’re Janet’s friend?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Susannah looked at him, trying to read the expression in his eyes. ‘How is she now?’

  ‘The scans were clear,’ the doctor said, ‘she hasn’t had a stroke or anything, but we think she might have meningitis.’

  ‘But that’s serious, isn’t it?’ asked Susannah.

  ‘Fairly serious, yes.’

  ‘How did she catch it?’

  ‘The bugs are in the air, and the disease is common among children and young people. We don’t think she’s in danger, because we’ve caught it early and we’re already giving her medication.

  ‘But could you make a list of all her recent contacts? People she might have shared a cup or towel with, people she’s hugged or kissed, so we can treat them, too. You can get your own drugs from the pharmacy, I’ll write you a prescription.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Susannah. ‘How long – I mean, do you know when she – ‘

  ‘Give it a couple of days, and she’ll be on the mend, I’m sure. She’s young, she’s fit, she’ll probably make a full recovery. Now, how will you get home?’

  ‘I’ll be all right.’ Susannah forced a smile. ‘I’ll come back this evening, see how she’s getting on.’

  * * * *

  When Aubrey Gordon found out what had happened, he said Susannah should have rung him, he’d have come to fetch her home.

  ‘You took the stuff they gave you?’ he demanded, as he poured out tea, then made her drink it.

  ‘Yes, I’ve had the first day’s dose.’ Susannah pulled a face. ‘This stuff apparently turns your eyeballs yellow.’

  ‘Very nice,’ said Aubrey. ‘You’ll look just like a lynx. You still seem quite shaken,’ he observed. ‘Why don’t you ring that bloke of yours and ask him to come over?’

  ‘He won’t be able to come to Marbury,’ Susannah said. ‘He works in Wolverhampton.’

  ‘That’s no distance!’ Aubrey grinned. ‘Go on, give him a call.’

  Gavin came that evening and said that for the rest of the week he could commute, no problem. ‘Janet will be all right,’ he told Susannah. ‘Don’t worry, she’s in good hands, and she’ll pull through.’

  But it wasn’t quite that straightforward, and for three days it was touch and go. Yellow-eyed, David, Anna, Mike and Susannah paced the corridors at the Royal, or sat in the canteen drinking vile coffee and urging Janet to get well.

  Then, to everyone’s relief, at last she began to rally. Mr and Mrs Collins – a disapproving pair of civil servants who looked nothing like their golden daughter – came from Sussex and took her home, to convalesce in their bungalow by the sea.

  Julius took charge of the excavation. Or nominal charge, at least. He arrived late in the morning, left early in the afternoon, and delegated almost everything to Mike or Anna.

  ‘He’s all right,’ Mike observed, as he and Susannah had a lunch time pint in the Green Man. ‘When I met him first, I thought he was a right pretentious sod. But he knows his stuff, he really listens to what you say, and once you start to talk to him you find he’s a nice guy.’

  ‘He knows how to flatter, and charm’s his middle name.’ Susannah smiled at Mike. ‘Julius is an arch-manipulator. You just watch it, eh?’

  ‘You’re as bad as Anna, she thinks he’s a creep.’ Mike picked up the glasses. ‘Come on, Sukey, back to work, okay?’

  * * * *

  Gavin was very tired by that weekend. He spent Friday evening falling asleep over his pint of Parker’s in the Lamb and Flag.

  As he and Susannah walked across the Cathedral Close, she told him about the invitation to the dinner party at All Souls.

  ‘But surely you don’t want to go?’ frowned Gavin.

  ‘Well, I was wondering if we might,’ Susannah said. ‘Now we know he likes playing tricks on people, we can be on our guard. Gavin, it might be fun.’

  ‘Yeah, well – I’d certainly like to catch the bugger at it.’ Gavin scowled. ‘But he’d better not try anything on you or me. It’s been bloody freezing all this week. We’d catch our deaths.’

  ‘We couldn’t get in there, anyway,’ said Susannah. ‘Security is really tight these days. There’s barbed wire, dogs, alarms and lights – the works.’

  ‘Thank God for that,’ said Gavin.

  ‘What do you think happened?’ asked Susannah.

  ‘Dunno, but I suppose we were both tripping. He must have given me something because I saw the place, I smelled the oil in the lamps, I heard men talking. There were dogs, those great big mastiff things, with thick, black coats.’ Gavin rubbed his eyes. ‘I wish you could remember.’

  ‘I sometimes think I do. But that might be because you’ve talked about it, and I’m just confused. What shall we do tomorrow?’

  ‘I need to buy a pair of decent shoes, some shirts and stuff for work. I ought to get my hair cut.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll go to Worcester in the morning. Gavin, wake me up at ten, and bring me tea in bed?’

  ‘No chance, love,’ yawned Gavin. ‘You’ll be waking me.’

  * * * *

  Gavin woke at half past ten, shook Susannah’s shoulder, kissed her on the nose and told her he knew she was bluffing. But he’d go and make her tea, all right?

  She didn’t move.

  ‘Come on, Susie,’ he cajoled, as he pulled on his jeans. ‘Susie, sweetheart? What’s for breakfast, eh?’

  But she didn’t wake. Instead she lay there still as death, curled in a foetal ball.

  All at once, it struck him, and a moment later he was tearing down the stairs, dashing into the common room and snatching up the phone.

  ‘Yes, that’s right, an ambulance!’ he shouted. ‘To the Dean’s House, in the Cathedral Close.’

  He turned to see Aubrey Gordon, in a navy tracksuit with his whistle round his neck, ready for football practice. ‘I can’t wake Susannah,’ he began. ‘Janet’s had meningitis – ‘

  ‘We can’t wait for an ambulance, then!’ cried Aubrey. ‘God, it could take ages on a Saturday. Where’s your car?’

  ‘In Sidney Street.’ Gavin found his keys. ‘Go and get it, will you, and bring it into the Close.’

  Aubrey dashed off, and Gavin ran back upstairs. She would be sitting up now, wouldn’t she, rubbing her eyes and asking what the commotion was about? But she still lay there motionless, her breathing hardly audible, ashen-faced and cold.

  Grabbing the nearest garment he could find, which happened to be his shirt, Gavin somehow got her into it, the
n he pulled on her jeans and zipped them up. He was pushing her feet into a pair of trainers when he heard Aubrey running back upstairs.

  Somehow, they got Susannah into the car, drove to the Marbury Royal, and parked in a Consultant Only space. The next few minutes blurred into a nightmare of anxiety and activity, with nurses and porters getting Susannah on to a hospital trolley and taking her down miles and miles of corridor, while Gavin and Aubrey followed in hot pursuit.

  Ten eternal minutes later, a nurse came from a side ward. ‘You’re the people who brought that girl in, right?’ She smiled professionally at Gavin, who was feeling awful and couldn’t have smiled back to save his life. ‘It’s all under control, don’t look so worried, I’m sure she’ll be all okay. Now, if I could have some personal details?’

  ‘She’s got meningitis, that’s all you need to know, why haven’t you started treatment?’ Gavin shook the nurse’s arm. ‘Where have they taken her, I want to see her, now!’

  ‘Please,’ soothed the nurse, gently removing Gavin’s hand, ‘calm down.’

  A sister in navy blue came up. ‘You mustn’t worry,’ she began. ‘We’re looking after your friend, she’ll be okay. Why don’t you come with me? I’ll find you somewhere to sit down and wait.’

  ‘She’s got meningitis,’ repeated Gavin dully, wondering why they wouldn’t bloody listen, why they wouldn’t act. ‘Please, just start the treatment?’

  * * * *

  Gavin and Aubrey waited hours and hours. Then an auxiliary came for Gavin, took him down more miles of corridors and into a room marked Counselling Suite, which scared him even more.

  Finally, a doctor came to see him. ‘Hello,’ he began, ‘I’m the registrar on Lister Ward, and I’m responsible – ‘

  ‘It’s meningitis,’ Gavin told him. ‘Have you started treatment yet?’

  ‘Of course we’ve started treatment.’ The doctor rubbed his eyes. ‘But Susannah doesn’t have meningitis.’

  ‘What is it, then?’

  ‘She’s in a state of shock.’

  ‘In shock? But how can she be, she was asleep!’

  ‘That’s what it must have looked like, but in fact she was unconscious, and must have been for hours.’

  ‘But what’s wrong with her?’ demanded Gavin, wishing he could wake up, for surely he was dreaming, too?