The Animal Stars Collection

by Jackie French

  Bothwell fled. Pregnant with twins, Mary was imprisoned. In a gaol on an island, Mary lost the babies she was carrying. The Scottish lords forced her to abdicate, and her baby son James was made King instead, with Mary’s half-brother to rule in his place as regent until he grew up.

  Mary escaped and raised an army, but was defeated. Desperate, she fled into England, where she hoped Elizabeth, a fellow queen, would help her regain her throne—or at least help her get back to France where her Guise relatives might raise another army.

  Unfortunately, Mary had refused to renounce her claim to the English throne. Elizabeth knew that if her cousin had an army big enough to win her the Scottish throne, she might attack England too. Instead of helping Mary, Elizabeth kept her prisoner.

  So Mary waited. Waited for the Catholic Kings of France or Spain to invade England to rescue her and make her a Catholic Queen of England, instead of Protestant Elizabeth. Waited for the English Catholics to rise up and kill their Queen and take Mary in her place. Waited for letters and for the few brief walks in the sunlight she was allowed.

  She was still a queen. Hundreds of servants saw to her comfort and her loyal friends stayed at her side. Luxuries came by coach from France, Scotland, Belgium.

  Fifteen years passed. One day a coach brought a small black dog…

  A dog who’d love a queen.

  CHAPTER 1

  I Discover the World

  Scotland, Spring 1583

  My first memory is of smells, for I couldn’t see or hear. The scents of chickens turning on the spit, of oatcake baking on our hearth, of legs of mutton smoking at the side of the big fireplace above our basket, where the three of us puppies squirmed over each other to get to Mam.

  The first thing I can remember seeing was Nanny Breeks’s face looming down at me. It had no fur on it at all, unless you counted the hairs that sprouted from the big mole by her nose. And then she spoke.

  ‘Look at that belly! Any bigger and he’d go pop.’

  Nanny Breeks smelt of the pastries she made for the Master and of gingerbread, rich and sweet and spicy.

  Our world grew more interesting once we pups could see and hear. I was the fattest, Bo was the strongest and Lally the most adventurous.

  It was Lally who first worked out how to wriggle out of our basket onto the cold stone floor. But it was I who discovered that porridge straight from the pot burns your nose. I learnt that eating feathers makes you choke, too, and bring up a milky mess on Nanny’s floor.

  But Nanny Breeks just laughed. ‘Easily cleaned,’ was all she said, then she ordered Wee Jamie to fix it. Nanny’s laugh was so loud that it made the jellies quiver on the table.

  Nanny Breeks was the most important person in the world. She was even more important than the Master. It was Nanny who kept the big porridge pot going glop, glop, glop for anyone who wanted to scoop up a spoonful and dip it into the bowls of cream and honey kept on the table by the fire.

  It was Nanny who ordered Wee Jamie to keep the spit turning, to roast the hare or venison or rich fat mutton meat that was sent to the dining room for the Master. And it was Nanny who kept the best scraps for Mam, bones still rich with marrow and bits of skin so hard and crisp you just knew she would chew at them for hours and we’d smell the good meat smell on her whiskers all the next day.

  I was still living mostly on Mam’s milk. But already I dreamt of good meals to come.

  Nanny laughed a lot. She laughed when Wee Jamie dropped his spoon into the porridge pot and had to spend an hour fishing it out. She laughed when Lally led Bo and me to attack the broom as Young Rosie swept the hall, biting at the bristles with our sharp baby teeth.

  ‘She’ll be as grand a wee dog as her Mam,’ said Nanny, lifting the three of us up onto the big warm shelf of her chest and letting us lick a lump of butter from her fingers.

  Mam was the best badger dog on the island. Her coat was as grey and shaggy as the cattle I glimpsed from the hall doorway. Her jaws were the strongest of any dog on the island, for all she only reached halfway up Nanny’s shins.

  Mam’s Master had other, bigger dogs. But none of them could wriggle down into burrows like our Mam. When Mam’s jaws gripped, nothing ever got away.

  As soon as we could lap, the Master would whistle in the courtyard. Mam would prick her ears and run to him, out the door, and off after his horse across the hills. She came back to us with peaty feet and red whiskers and exciting smells still clinging to her coat.

  We puppies rolled and sniffed about her. We dreamt of the days when we’d be hunting foxes, otters and badgers (whatever they were), and have a fine master look at us with love and say, ‘Good dog.’

  I remember it all, the good smells of the kitchen and the laughter.

  I remember too the day the man came to take me away.

  CHAPTER 2

  I am Taken Away from the Island

  Scotland, Summer 1583

  It was summer, and the trees were suddenly green all over our heads. We puppies had tumbled out into the courtyard. I’d found a pile of chicken guts, still steaming. I snapped at the flies that buzzed above them and then I rolled, getting the lovely smell right through my coat.

  I was so excited I didn’t notice the cart till it was almost on me. The horse’s hooves clattered on the cobblestones and the horse snorted and stamped its feet at me, till I scampered back into the kitchen hall and hid under Nanny’s skirts where I knew I would be safe.

  Nanny laughed. She reached down and hauled me out and held me up by the scruff of my neck. ‘And what do ye think you’re doing down there, ye mucky beastie? Here, Wee Jamie, ye’d best take him…’ She stopped, for the Master had come in, with Mam at his heels, and a stranger behind them.

  Nanny made a bobbing movement to the men and put me down. I scurried off to our basket. Mam trotted over and sniffed me. The others ran to us too and started nudging at Mam for a drink. But she shook us off and trotted back to the Master.

  But the Master was looking at us. ‘Well, there they are, Master McPherson,’ he said to the stranger. ‘Three of them and nearly weaned. Which do ye fancy?’

  The stranger shrugged. ‘I willna be doing the fancying, it’s Her Majesty.’

  ‘The Queen!’ breathed Nanny Breeks, her hand covering her mouth. I pricked up my ears. A queen must be almost as important as Nanny, I thought.

  The Master bent down and picked up my brother. ‘This is the best of them. Good forequarters on him, and he knows his manners already.’

  The stranger shook his head. ‘Her Majesty wants black dogs.’

  ‘Black?’

  ‘On account of she’s a widow and a prisoner too. Black, the Queen’s Edinburgh man said I was to get. Two black terriers from Scotland to match the Frenchie dogs. Wee ones, I wuz told.’ He poked Lally with his toe and she snapped at it. ‘Don’t suppose they come much smaller than this, eh?’

  The Master stroked Bo’s nose with his fingertip. ‘They may be wee dogs, Master McPherson, but ye canna find bolder hunters. Girlie here,’ he bent down and riffled Mam’s ears, ‘can take on a fox or snap a weasel’s neck too. Ye should see her down a badger hole.’

  Master McPherson shrugged. ‘Willna be nae badgers’ holes where they’re going.’

  The Master put Bo down and picked up Lally. Her coat was as black as mine. ‘Well, here’s a black one for ye, and her brother’s black too.’ The Master looked down at me and hesitated. ‘What muck has he been rolling in? Nae, dinna tell me. I can guess. Well, he’s the only other black one. Do ye want him or not?’

  ‘Two I was told to get, and two it’ll have to be.’ The stranger took Lally and held her awkwardly. You could tell he’d not had much experience with dogs. ‘How much do ye want for them?’

  The Master’s face darkened. ‘Nae money.’

  ‘The Queen can pay.’

  ‘I said nae money! It is an honour and a privilege to serve the true Queen of Scotland.’

  The stranger looked embarrassed for a moment. ‘W
ell, as ye say. Have ye a basket?’

  ‘Ye’re nae takin’ them now!’ cried Nanny. ‘Wait a few weeks, till they’re weaned proper.’

  Master McPherson shook his head. ‘There’s a coachload of fripperies going to the Queen from Edinburgh next week. Preserved quinces and sweet cakes from France and bales of cloth of gold. That’s the stuff to send a queen, eh? These two can travel along with it.’

  ‘But—’ began Nanny.

  The Master shook his head. Nanny bit her lip. She waddled down the hall and unhooked a basket from the peg on the stone wall, then bent down to the hearth and took up the blanket that we’d always slept on with Mam.

  Master McPherson looked at the blanket disdainfully. ‘Haven’t ye anything better?’

  ‘They’ll rest better on this,’ said Nanny, ‘with the smell of their Mam.’ She took Lally from the man and cuddled her. ‘Ye be a good dog for Her Majesty, then. A queen for a mistress! A dog canna ask for more!’

  I wrinkled my nose, puzzled. I still hadn’t worked out what was going on. But Lally had her tail between her legs. She was always quicker than me. Nanny slipped Lally into the basket then picked me up, not cuddling me, because I was still mucky, but by the scruff of the neck.

  ‘And ye,’ she whispered, ‘ye look after y’ sister, hear? And behave yeself! Nae fighting brooms where ye’re going, or rolling in horse apples.’

  ‘Yip,’ I said, and gave her face a lick. I wasn’t sure what it all meant, of course. What was a ‘queen’?

  And then Nanny put me in the basket with Lally and shut the lid.

  The world was dark. And we were all alone.

  CHAPTER 3

  How I Come to be Alone

  Scotland, Summer 1583

  It wasn’t too bad in the basket at first. At least there were the two of us. The blanket was soft, and the basket was warm. And Lally was brave, and intelligent too. Lally would know what to do. I sniffed her in the darkness.

  Lally whined, deep in her throat. She leapt to her feet and began to push at the lid of the basket.

  It didn’t move.

  Lally pushed again, then gave a sharp woof.

  But there was no response. The basket began to move. Up into the air, then carried along, then shaking and jolting. I could smell fresh air and horse.

  Then stillness. And then we began to move.

  It was terrifying. Jolting back and forth in the darkness of the basket. There was no fresh air, no smell of Nanny or of home. Bump, bump, bump went the basket and we were jarred and bashed against the lid and sides. I raised my voice and began to howl. But Lally nipped my ear. ‘Be quiet,’ she seemed to say. ‘And save your strength.’

  Lally was always the bright one.

  And so I did.

  The trip was endless. The jolting stopped, the smell of horse vanished. There was the scent of salt instead and dried fish and a different movement now. Up and down and up and down…sssh, sssh, splash, splash… more water than I’d ever known in one place…

  How long we stayed in the darkness I never knew. No light. No laughter or kind words. No food. No milk or even water either, and soon this began to be the worst thing.

  At first we whined and whimpered. Sometimes we dozed, too tired for anything else. But as thirst took hold we simply lay and panted, not knowing if we slept or woke.

  Suddenly the lid was lifted. The light was so strong it hurt my eyes and made me sneeze. And suddenly Lally was gone, lifted into the too-bright air.

  I struggled to get to her, but the lid closed down on my head. ‘One of ye at a time. Ye’ll get your turn.’

  I strained to smell, to hear. Water…I could smell water. And meat too. I had only ever had a taste of meat before, a scrap of deer meat, chopped up fine.

  The lid opened. A hand shoved Lally down and picked me up instead, then dropped me on the cobbles.

  I was too dazed to look around. I could still smell salt, but the sound of water was gone. There were strange houses, and horses too and more people than I had dreamt were in the world. Grey and white birds yelled above us and the watery wind tried to spit in my face.

  Master McPherson shoved my head down towards a bowl of water. ‘Drink, ye pestilent mutt. I havna got all day.’

  I bent my head and lapped. I had never tasted anything so good. I drank and drank.

  ‘Come on then, hurry up.’ The hand grabbed me again, before I had time to investigate the chunks of meat nearby. They smelt strange—not like the meat in Nanny’s kitchen at all—and I was hungry. But I had needed the water more.

  And then the basket jolted again. And we began to move.

  I was no longer thirsty. But I felt weak and dizzy from hunger—and terror too. I had never known anything like this. No one to look after me, laugh at me, cuddle me…

  I whined and licked Lally’s ear. She bit my paw reassuringly. But her nose felt hot. Soon she put her head down and whined.

  I sniffed her. She smelt strange. Sour, somehow, not like my Lally at all. Her tummy was tight and rumbling. Suddenly she sat up, coughed twice, then vomited over our blanket.

  I sniffed at the vomit, then at Lally again. Surely she would be all right now?

  But Lally lay on her side and began to pant.

  And so we stayed there, Lally lying and me crouched by her side. Now and then she whimpered at me. But mostly she was quiet.

  Too quiet. She still didn’t smell like herself.

  More time passed. My whole world had vanished. I had given up hope this time would ever end.

  And then it did. The basket stopped. The lid opened.

  Light again, but not daylight now. This light was softer: the flickering of a candle. A girl’s face peered in at us.

  She was younger than Nanny, but she smelt a bit like her, of neeps and baking bannocks. I whined and weakly licked her hand. But she was staring at Lally. ‘Oh, the puir wee thing!’ She lifted Lally out. Lally was still panting and her eyes were shut. ‘What have ye been doing to them, Lang Ian?’

  ‘Nothing, Megan. I even gave them some of my dinner, good mutton pie, and—’

  ‘Mutton pie! Ye lubbock! How can any brother of mine be so stupid? What would wee pups be doing with mutton pie?’

  Her brother sounded defensive. ‘How do I know what the beasties needed?’

  ‘They’re babies still! And what will the Queen’s man be saying when he finds out what ye’ve done with the wee dogs? Now bring me some warm water off the stove—and another blanket—’

  ‘They have their fur, don’t they? What do they need with a blanket?’

  ‘These are the Queen’s dogs! Our own puir Queen! And ye grudge her dogs a blanket! Shame on you, Lang Ian.’

  ‘I only asked…’ muttered the man.

  He brought the blanket. I peered out of the basket and the girl—for she was hardly a woman, I saw now—carefully cleaned Lally’s fur and laid her down where it was warm by the fire.

  ‘Now get some milk. And mind ye warm it first and soak some oatcake in it. Oh, the puir wee things…’

  And so I lapped my milk and oatcake while Megan spooned water into Lally’s mouth and petted her, stroked her swollen tummy and crooned a song, one I had heard Nanny sing while she stirred the porridge pot.

  It would be all right now, I thought, lying next to Lally while the fire flickered warm, and listening to the low sweet voice, with her to care for us. Lally would recover and the girl would take us to the Queen, who would be like the Master and Nanny Breeks combined, and take us out hunting budgers (whatever they were), just like Mam, then back to grand scraps by the fire.

  I slept, for I was quite exhausted. And when I woke Megan slept too, on another blanket by our side. But Lally was cold when I touched her with my nose, and even though I whined and whined and licked her face and ears she didn’t wake.

  And I was quite alone.

  CHAPTER 4

  I Leave Scotland and Venture into the Land of the Enemy

  Scotland to England, Summer 1583


  ‘Her Majesty ordered two dogs, not one.’

  The Queen’s man smelt different from Lang Ian, of venison and eggs instead of mutton pie, and his clothes smelt of spices instead of salt fish and sheep.

  ‘Only black one they had,’ muttered Lang Ian. Megan snorted behind him, but said nothing.

  The Queen’s man shrugged. ‘What can’t be mended must be endured. Put him in the carriage then. No, not in that, man!’ The Queen’s man stared at the now smelly basket. ‘There’s a proper basket in the carriage.’

  He looked at me closely for the first time. ‘He looks younger than I expected. Are you sure he’s weaned?’

  ‘Och, aye,’ said Lang Ian, while his sister said ‘Nae’ at the same time.

  ‘Which is it?’ said the Queen’s man impatiently.

  Megan came out from behind her brother. ‘He’s only just lapping. He’ll be pining for his Mam too. He needs warm milk with a bit of oatcake crumbled in, and someone to cuddle him to keep him warm, and—’

  The Queen’s man held up his hand. ‘I’m Her Majesty’s agent, not a dog’s maidservant. You then, girl, what’s your name?’

  ‘Megan.’

  ‘Do ye speak English?’

  Megan stared. ‘Aye. Our Mam was from the border country.’

  ‘Good. You will come with us to take care of the puppy.’

  ‘But…but into England?’

  ‘They don’t eat babies there, whatever you’ve heard,’ said the Queen’s man. ‘Come on now, run to it. Fetch a cloak and we’ll be off. The carriage will bring you back and it’ll be a half sovereign for you. Quickly!’