I glanced at him quickly with a sinking heart, but he looked unsurprised by my appearance. He was cold and composed, not a wrinkle on his cream buckskin breeches, not a hair out of place on his shining, dark head.
In a low, reproving voice he said to me, “Where have you been all this time, Agnes Cotter? If with your aunt, you didn’t have the Master’s permission to see her. You shouldn’t have left the stable hand without a word.”
I’d reached the Master’s chair. I spoke directly to him. “Oh, Sir, I beg your pardon. But I had to see my aunt. She’s been taken prisoner by the Militia.”
The Master spoke abruptly, not even bothering to look at me. “You’ve returned to do your duties; that’s all that matters to me.”
He was angry, and my heart sank further. Then he waved me away in a distracted way, and I saw his anger wasn’t with me but something else. The blood was up in his face. His mouth was compressed, his hands clenched on the armrests of the chair. He hadn’t taken in what I’d said. Then with a great effort he seemed to bring himself under control. His eyes focused on me.
“Your aunt, you say? Silas told me this morning that the soldiers are in the village —“
His face flushed deeper as I interrupted him, but I couldn’t help myself. “Sir, the Militia has been in the village this week past, since before the snow fell!”
His right hand slammed down on the armrest, and I drew back nervously. Silas swiftly measured out some liquid from the bottle into the glass and held it out. “Here, Sir, drink this. You shouldn’t agitate yourself further. Shall I call for the nurse?”
The Master flung his hand out contemptuously, as if to knock the glass to the floor. Finding he couldn’t reach it, he glared up, but Silas stood calmly, his outstretched hand steady.
“A week!” growled the Master. “It was bad enough to hear about the presence of the Militia in my village, but that it should be the girl, not my steward, who tells me this now! When the soldiers first arrived, why did you keep it from me?”
Silas hardly blinked. “You’ve been ill, Sir,” he said reasonably, his voice like warm wax. “I didn’t want to trouble you. The doctor thought it inadvisable. You were in no fit state to entertain any officers, after all. The sweeping’s been of little consequence to the village. It remains loyal to the Protector and to you. No traitors have been found.”
The Master thrust his face up. “I must know such things in the future, do you understand? They’re my concern as Master of Murkmere. There’s nothing wrong with my mind, whatever’s wrong with my legs!”
Silas didn’t move back. “Of course, Sir.”
“If no traitors have been found, then why has Agnes’s aunt been taken?”
“She’s accused of stealing, Sir. Books bearing your crest have been found in her possession.” Silas’s dark eyes rested on me. “If it turns out that Agnes’s mother stole them when she worked here, then by law the aunt must be punished since they’ve been found under her roof.”
“I know what the law says,” said the Master irritably. He took the glass at last and drained the medicine in a gulp.
I looked at him despairingly. “Aunt Jennet isn’t a thief, Sir. She came by those books honestly.” I put emphasis on my words, trying to convey by my expression that he must know the truth of it himself if only he would remember. “She told me they were given to her many years back.”
Silas clicked his teeth. “A lie, Sir. The aunt has other books, of course, the approved textbooks. She was a schoolteacher.”
The Master held up a hand. He looked at me, not at Silas, and Silas fell silent.
For a long time the Master and I stared at each other, while his high color faded and his eyes that had been over-bright and bloodshot grew thoughtful. “I remember your aunt,” he said, and a secret understanding sprang bright between us.
“Ride to the village at once,” he said to Silas. “Bring the commanding officer to me. I want to speak to him about this woman.”
The composure fell from Silas’s face. He looked startled, even shocked. “But, Sir, she’s been concealing stolen goods!”
The Master sighed. “No, Silas, she has not. I myself gave her the books a long time ago. Such publications weren’t banned in those days. At the time I believe I thought they’d be useful to her.”
Silas tried once more. “But she hid them, Sir, instead of giving them up when the ban was pronounced. That’s not fit behavior from a Chief Elder.”
“Her village must decide that, not you,” said the Master gently. “It elected her. Go and fetch the officer now. And Silas …”
Silas, who had turned on his heel, turned back. His eyes burned black. “Yes, Sir?”
“If by chance the soldiers have already left with her, I shall expect you to ride after them.”
A starchy rustling in the nurse’s room had warned me earlier of her presence, and after Silas had left she bustled out in her white apron to collect the used glass and the bottle.
When she had gone back into the anteroom the Master said to me, “I’m immeasurably glad you’re back, Agnes. Leah needs you. She’s not eaten since you left, and she’s hardly spoken.”
I was astonished.
I knelt by his chair and lowered my voice; the door of the anteroom was still open, and I remembered the nurse was an eavesdropper. “Sir, I know the truth about Miss Leah. My aunt thought it best to tell me.”
He looked startled; the color came and went in his cheeks. “The truth?” He glanced fiercely toward the anteroom. “Shut the door.”
I did so, ignoring the raised eyebrows of the nurse; then I came back.
“Now,” he said, frowning. “What truth do you speak of?”
I whispered, “I know about Leah’s parents, Sir.”
He was silent a long time. I wondered if I’d done the right thing in speaking so directly, but then he said, “You must tell no one.”
“I give you my word I won’t, Sir.”
At length he said in a low voice, “I trust you, Agnes. You’re like your mother in some ways. Don’t betray my trust, or hers.”
“I won’t, Sir,” I breathed.
“You needn’t keep silent for long, a few months, that is all. I mean to tell Leah myself on her sixteenth birthday, I’ve always meant to do that. I’ll make a formal announcement at the ball. The Protector and the Ministration won’t be able to quibble any longer about Leah inheriting the estate when they learn she’s my heir by blood.”
Suddenly he looked at me sharply. “Did your aunt tell you the reason for the secrecy?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“It was mere gossip about my wife, nothing more. Dangerous gossip.” He compressed his lips, and a muscle jumped in his cheek. He turned from me to look out at the scudding clouds beyond the window; every now and then a gust of wind rattled the panes. “But now it’s all in the past.”
I spoke eagerly, without thinking. “Then, after her birthday, will you let Miss Leah walk freely, Sir?”
He turned back to me slowly. I thought he hadn’t understood.
“I mean, let her go beyond the gates, to the village?”
He had to speak quietly, for fear of the nurse overhearing, but still some spittle landed on his chest with the force of his words. “Don’t interfere in what you don’t understand!”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” I said, frightened. I went on kneeling there, but my time was over. He waved me away abruptly
“Go to Leah now. She’s in the watchtower.”
She didn’t hear my boots on the stairs. She wasn’t reading, but had pressed herself tight against the long window, with her arms stretched out and her skirts flattened as if she wanted to melt through. The light pierced through her clothes and the fragile bones of her wrists and fingers. If the glass hadn’t been there, she would have fallen out into the sky
“What are you doing, Miss?”
She whirled around at my cry, and color came into her pale face. She left the window and darted toward me as if she were g
oing to hug me, then stopped herself. Her arms fell to her sides.
“I didn’t expect you’d come back,” she said in a little struggling voice, most unlike herself. “I thought you’d leave while you had the chance.”
I shook my head and tried to smile.
“Oh, Aggie, it’s been so dull without you! I thought you wouldn’t return — that I was alone again.”
As I stared at her, she ducked her head abruptly so that her fine fair hair covered her face. The next moment she had flown over to the wing chair and tucked her long legs under her. She’d recovered herself, I could see that. The imperious manner was back. And then I realized that beneath it she was excited, and bursting to impart some gossip.
“I’ve some news, though you probably know it already.”
“I know about my aunt,” I said softly. “I’ve seen her.”
“Your aunt?” she said impatiently. “I know nothing of your aunt. The soldiers are in the village! Silas told my guardian so this morning. Did you see them?”
“I did, Miss,” I said. “I believe Silas wouldn’t have told the Master at all if I hadn’t been sent to the village for Gammy. He feared I’d tell him myself on my return.”
“My guardian’s sorely vexed. The village is under his authority, and they require his permission to sweep it. Silas must have known the Militia was coming, yet he kept the information to himself. He receives messengers from the Lord Protector, I’ve seen them.” She looked at me, suddenly solemn. “When the ball takes place no visitor must guess that Mr. Tunstall is no longer in control of the estate. Everything must run smoothly and look well cared for. Will you help me when the time comes, Aggie?”
“Of course, Miss,” I said, and now it didn’t seem strange that she should ask me. “I’ll do whatever I can.”
I thought of the gaggle of careless, unruly servants and the ramshackle rooms of Murkmere Hall. But Leah sat straight-backed in her chair as if it were a throne, a determined jut to her chin and a regal gleam in her eye. In her imagination she was already giving orders to a willing, well-trained staff, and the rooms gleamed and glittered under their attention.
“You’ll have to conduct yourself as a grand lady at the ball, Miss,” I said, eyeing her rumpled dress and dirty boots. “What you wear must impress the guests.”
“Oh, I will! The Master’s already ordered a bale of the finest silk gauze to be made up into a gown for me.” She leaped to her feet and began to dance round the room, holding her creased skirts out. “I’m to be clad in silver, he says.”
“Silver?” I said faintly, then pulled myself together. “What about the feathers you’d thought you’d wear?”
“That mess we found yesterday? I threw it out. It was still soaking wet when I woke this morning, and no good for anything.”
At suppertime the Master told me Aunt Jennet had been released on his request. Two weeks later, as we had arranged, I met Jethro at the gates as twilight was falling, and he confirmed it. We whispered to each other through the rusty bars.
“How is she, Jethro? Is she stronger?”
“Tough as bark, your aunt. She scrubbed your cottage flags thin as soon as the soldiers left, and now she’s back organizing the Elders. They kept her as their Chief, of course.”
A look passed between us in the damp dusk. I was wondering to what rebellion she stirred those old men and women. Jethro shook his head. “You can’t stop her.”
“I don’t want to. I believe she may be right.”
“Don’t talk of it here.” He glanced about him at the growing shadows. “She asks after you.”
“I wish I could see her!”
“How are things with you, Aggie? Has Silas Seed been pestering you with his attentions?”
“I see almost nothing of him,” I said, smiling, for he sounded almost jealous. “He’s busy supervising the lambing. Jukes the footman has been dealing with our wages.”
It was true that Murkmere Hall had become an altogether easier place for me after my return. Between Doggett and me there developed an uneasy truce. I let her see that I wouldn’t take over any of her duties as lady’s maid to Leah. I certainly didn’t want to mend Leah’s endlessly torn clothing myself, or struggle to dress her slippery hair.
Each afternoon I’d go to the tower at the end of Leah’s lessons. I stopped being nervous of the long window; and the tower showed no sign of collapsing around us. After the Master had been let down in the lift by Jukes and Pegg, she and I would sit together in the bookroom and she would tell me about what she had learned that day and unlock yet another case to show me the treasures inside.
The Master gave me a reading list, and slowly, laboriously, I began to read my way through it. I’d never be as quick and clever as Leah, but I had great curiosity. As I read more, I began to realize that there once had been a different way of ordering things, and that it had been a better way. Men had grumbled and complained even then, but at least they’d had the freedom to do so.
Leah and I would sit together on the floor in a pool of late-winter sunlight, with the books between us. Her skirts of ivory silk were spread around her; her vivid, fine-boned face turned toward me as she talked.
There were too many words in some of the books she showed me; I liked the mysterious illustrations best.
“Is this a man or an animal, Miss?” I cried, pointing at a creature that was covered with a thick pelt, yet stood on two legs and had a human face. “Does he take his fur off when he washes?”
“Look, he’s got a tail as well,” she said, pointing to a second illustration and giggling at my horrified expression. “But here’s a much grander tail!” And with a flourish she showed me an illustration of a beautiful girl who appeared to be half-fish.
But the illustrations that intrigued me most were a sequence of four. They showed a night forest. In the first picture I glimpsed the pale form of a naked man slipping between the dark trees; then he began to change horribly, until in the last he had become a wolf, howling at the moon.
“Do such creatures exist, Miss Leah?” I said, uneasily.
She shrugged. “There are places far away where people have seen them, or so they say. After all, there are people in this country who believe in the avia. Who knows whether they ever existed, or if they’re a myth, like so much else in religion.”
It made me anxious for her soul when Leah talked like that. What exactly did she believe herself?
We were on our way out for our walk one afternoon, and for once we left through the Great Hall. This was a vast, dark room used for dining on the rare occasions the Master had visitors. It smelt of old candlewax and peat ash, and was hung about with ragged tapestries that illustrated the Battle of the Birds. The first time I’d seen them, I’d thought the birds were alive: I’d fallen on the floor in fear, covering my eyes. Even now I thought the Hall a haunted place. In the drafts the tapestries seemed to quiver with a secret life of their own, as if the story that they told were being played out still.
Leah slapped one of the tapestries as we passed, releasing puffs of dust. “We should take these down before the ball.” She sneezed.
“But they’re sacred!” I exclaimed involuntarily, and realized at once I’d annoyed her.
She stopped immediately; we were both standing before the last tapestry. “What do you see in the picture, Aggie?” she demanded.
“I-I see the Eagle,” I stammered. I wanted to touch my amber, but under her censorious gaze thought better of it.
“Describe him.”
But I did not dare.
Leah did it for me. “He is two-faced, half-bird, half-man. One side of his face is feathered, the other has fleshy cheek and bearded jaw. His eyes are tragic. Common to both sides of the face is a cruel beak that shows no softness, no forgiveness.” She tilted her head in mock-thoughtfulness. “What does that mean for his creatures, I wonder? And what do his birds do in the shadows of the forests beneath him?”
“They destroy each other,” I whispered, staring
at the tapestry.
“In his name, Aggie.” She turned away. “Throughout my childhood the kinder servants worried for my soul, and led me to Devotion.” She was walking over to the main doors. “It’s hard to believe in an unforgiving god, Aggie.”
“It’s not meant to be easy,” I protested.
She laughed suddenly, startling the footman standing at the door. He opened it at her nod, and light seeped in over our feet. We stood at the top of the steps, the parkland spread before us in the damp afternoon, sheep grazing on the early shoots beneath the scattered oaks. “There’s a power in everything,” said Leah softly, looking about her. “I feel it all the time — a power in all creatures, all nature.”
“But only One made that power,” I said quickly, before she betrayed herself as a heretic, before He could hear.
“The Eagle, you believe?”
I nodded, and at her expression added even faster, “And you can’t stop me believing what I know is right — you who believe in freedom, Miss!”
And I made her laugh a second time.
I didn’t break my word — I never said anything to Leah about her parents. My worries for her future drifted away, for as we grew closer she seemed like any normal girl. She’d sometimes go to the mere, but now she’d take me with her. On the way back to the Hall she’d link her arm through mine. In the evenings we’d play Commotion, and the parlor would shake with our laughter. We’d talk about all manner of things: what I had read, what I thought of it; more important, what she thought of it.
One afternoon I found her at the desk in the tower, with pen and parchment. She seemed excited, and the parchment was covered in scrawls and blots and crossings-out.
“We made a guest list for the ball this morning, Mr. Tunstall and I,” she said. “It’s to take place sixteen years to the day that I was brought to Murkmere, the day he’s always called my birthday, the day the first leaf of autumn falls, he always says. I’ve just been making a list of my own, Aggie, and you’re to help me. It’s all the things we’ve got to do to make the Hall ready.”
I sat obediently on the floor and looked up at her. Her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth as the quill scratched.
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