Delighted, I curled up. “I’d never left Lydiard before. You’ve travelled all of Eden, sire.”
“I know no more of life than you, my dear,” he told me. “I live here in comfort, but I speak to no one with a brain, and I cannot even dress myself. That fool valet does it for me. I am as ignorant as any village child.”
“I don’t think you’re missing much,” I replied. “The world and its diseases, battles, wars and miseries seem bad enough. You’re better off closeted here in safety.”
“Not safety from the Pestilence. And no safety from utter boredom.”
“Invite friends,” I suggested, “and have parties.”
He smiled, although it looked more like a grimace. “You’ve heard about the molly house? I have friends there. Nowhere else. They call me wicked.”
“Liking boys isn’t wicked,” I said, a little confused. “I like boys too. Or at least, I liked one special one. His name’s Jak. If I can like boys, why can’t you? You’re the most important man in the whole world. People should be thrilled if you like them.”
His smile stayed. “I like you, Freia. Are you thrilled?”
I was. I thanked him very much and smiled wide. “I’ll try very hard to cure you,” I said. “But I can’t promise.”
“And I don’t care.”
“I’ll mix another vial of medicine tomorrow,” I said. “Jak was cured by just one full vial, but he was very young. I think perhaps a grown man might need more. I’ll make two vials just in case. It’s quite a nice taste, isn’t it?”
The king nodded and rolled over, burying his head in the pillow. “It is,” he murmured. Then, as if remembering something of importance, he rolled back, frowning. Clearly, he was becoming tired, but he managed to say, “Jak, you call him? Jak Lydiard, son of the lord? If he came to the city, I’ll find him for you.” His voice faded off. “I’ll not force him, but if he wishes to marry you, then I shall allow it. And make you my doctor.”
I gulped, thrilled and excited, and my heart rushed and heaved. But the king was sick and might forget, and how could I remind a king. For now, I had to concentrate on the cure. I moved back, believing he was about to sleep. I said softly, “Each vial holds two cupsful. I am hoping that three more cupful’s will be the complete cure.”
But he wasn’t sleeping. He was rummaging under one of his pillows, and, although wincing with pain, he held out one trembling hand. It was a purse he gave me, and I was amazed. I didn’t dare open the purse, but I thanked the king and kissed his shaking hand. “Courageous girl, to kiss diseased fingers,” he mumbled, “I promise you a great future as one of the king’s favourites. How does that sound? You shall not only be a lady, as the wife of the Lord of Lydiard, but the official royal doctor. That carries a salary to keep a village in comfort for many years.”
I was excited, amazed, and almost in love with my king. “You deserve to be king,” I whispered to him. “You’re a great and kind man, your majesty.”
I had no idea that half of what I said was shockingly improper. But he managed a smile. “Good girl,” he muttered. “And now I sleep.”
I slept as well, back on the big cushioned couch. I slept very well.
Chapter Ten
When I woke, I knew immediately what had happened. The stertorous breathing from the royal bed had ceased. There was an unnatural silence.
I had grown so very fond of the man, and I was sorry. I was also sorry for myself. I would, I was sure, be accused of useless stupidity at the very least, and malignant murder at the worst. I was puzzled, but I was now also frightened.
I bent over the silent body. His small pale head was almost invisible amongst the pillows of feather-filled linen, and his nose and mouth were lost in the billowing fluff. He was quite dead.
At first, I wondered if he had purposefully suffocated himself since he had often spoken to me of the ease of death. But the night before he had seemed optimistic as I assured him that my medicine could be a cure. I had already calmed most of his pain, and he had moments of cheerful optimism. No, he hadn’t killed himself.
Then I wondered if I had killed him with a medicine far more toxic than I could have imagined. And I knew this was also impossible. What I had fed him the day before should have begun a cure. But at the worst, it might have been useless, not poisonous. There was not one single ingredient that could have killed. And late the night before his majesty had shown all the signs of a man recovering.
Then I knew. Someone had come in the night while I slept, and the king too, and had smothered him. I suspected the doctor, but no doubt there were others who had wanted him dead. Kings are always both adored and hated, and others were ambitious to take the throne. I didn’t know who. It wasn’t my game.
But I would be blamed for it.
I hated the work. Bembitt was the final thorn on the rose, but truly the petals had already died and fallen. Castle life was little more than permanent misery. Since I had only come here to find Jak, there remained no purpose in staying any longer. Decent food, a warm place to sleep and the possibility of finding friends had seemed yearningly important at first, but I did not need the salary, which in any case was a pittance at Thruppence a ten-day. My sack of precious potions in their little tubs remained untouched in the chest which all the girls shared, each proud of owning some personal belongings and a change of linen. The purses of money given by Jak’s father remained well hidden and still safe tired under my chemise. And now I had the king’s purse and didn’t even know yet what it held. But it would not be mean. What king gives tuppence to someone who might save his life?
But of course, then I realised that I had to run. Not just leave, but leave in a rush. I would be accused of stealing the king’s purse, and of killing him in order to steal it. I wanted out anyway. So I ran downstairs, carefully shutting his majesty’s sad chamber behind me.
The laundry girl Nevis wiped the soap suds from her arms with her apron, and hugged me goodbye when I hurried to retrieve my few belongings from my straw bed and the chest of more precious items. “I wishes yer good luck, Fray dear,” she whispered.
“The king is dead,” I whispered back. “They will say I killed him, but I swear I didn’t. We became friends. Truly. I liked him. I think it was his other doctor who killed the king and will say I did it because he hated me. But I don’t know who did it, I just know it wasn’t me. But now I have to run before they drag me out to whip and then hang me.”
I also told Issy why I was leaving, but she was cross and did not sympathise, and so I hurried away before she could tell anyone in authority who would surely try to stop me, or Bembitt, who might try to do something worse. I left the castle by its southern archway and hoped I was disappearing into the shadows. I couldn’t actually run, although I knew I was running away in fact, because any servant on the run would be the most suspicious thing possible. I still wore my laundry uniform, since I now owned no other clothes, but I carried a great deal of money. It was a bright morning of new rising sunbeams, only minutes past the pastel dawn. The brewers, millers and bakers were already busy, the scent of pie and pastry hot on the dew soaked dazzle, stalls blowing their tessellated hessian in the first breezes. I relished each pungent perfume even though they were a reminder of hunger to come, with wistful longings for lost security. I would surely miss cushions by the hearth and downy pillows on the bed, but these were now long gone in my past. So with determination and a deep breath, for I would be walking a long, long way and expected no comfort, basically because I had no idea where I was going.
The taverns were all shut, but the church doorways were open. A city of spires and churches, industrious in worship, but two taverns and a brothel for every pulpit. The ring of the forge, the steady tap, tap of the cooper, the clang of the smith, the great clattering sweep of the mill. Steaming a little in the fresh risen sun, the refuse lay in rainbows, picked over by crows and scurrying black rats. As the good citizens awoke, the thrown contents of chamber pots would set the central gullies mov
ing again, a constant liquid drift towards lower ground. Lord, how I wanted to breathe country green again before the sun climbed higher. But making a living and starting a new life in the countryside would be ten times more difficult and I wasn’t going to waste that money just by lying in the long grass and paying for food that someone else would bake.
As usual, what happened wasn’t my idea at all. I walked the banks of the Corn and found my way blocked by a tall, dark building tucked into a side alley, windows to the river but door to the cobbles. I could go no further since a large crowd of angry and cursing citizens was striding down the same alley, shouting about the king’s death which had presumably just been announced, and demanding to know who had killed him.
“They say it was the doctor,” one man shrieked. “I know that man. He killed my wife.”
“Doctors cure, don’t kill,” said a woman. “A doctor cured me when I had a broken ankle. I heard it was some young girl in the palace that killed our king.”
“How can a little girl kill a mighty man on the throne?” demanded another. “Tis rubbish. I reckon they’s trying to hide whatever bastard done it.”
“The king hisself were the son of a bastard,” shouted a dark man.
I let them push past. They were on their way to the castle, and I was pleased that at least some of the city folk cared about their wretched king and his death had saddened and angered them. If they blamed that vile doctor, I was just as pleased, whether he’d done it or not. But I knew my name would soon be announced as the creature who stole the king’s purse and then killed him before running away. As the crowd hurried past, my brain, what was left of it, puffed in circles, wondering about some new name. Jakka was the first name that came to my head since Jak was permanently in my thoughts, but I told myself one thing more. I looked guilty for several reasons. But surely changing my name would be the last proof if the Law-Fister wanted to investigate, and I’d be arrested on the spot. So if fear made me more guilty than I actually was – so give up fear from the start. I decided to keep my own name and act as innocent as I truly was.
And then I looked up.
The tall, dark building where I had been pushed into the closed doorway by the crowd, had a little note stuck on the inside of the one wide window of the ground floor. It said, “Property for Sale. Death of a family member leaves this fine shop open for sale or rent.”
Perhaps it was too close to the palace, but then surely no fool would suspect a murderer to set up shop within such a short distance. And I had an idea. A stupid idea. A brave idea.
I asked my mother. I even asked king Ram. “Mother, my love and dearest mama, is this idea a madwoman’s absurdity, or a sane woman’s path into the future?” I waited for the inevitable silence and then asked in different words. “Your majesty, King Ram. You know I didn’t kill you, and I think you must know who did. I nearly cured you, but that’s little consolation. Forgive me for thinking only of myself at a time like this, but is my idea a good one? Or a dangerous and foolish one?”
It was at that exact moment that a slim man wandered past, heading in the opposite direction to the earlier crowd. He looked at me, looked up at the dark building, and muttered to himself, “Should make a fine shop. In this quarter where the rich buy their wares, ‘tis a great place to live. Some smart city dweller should start a herbalist’s shop or a spicery. ‘Tis an ideal place for an apothecary.”
And he walked on. I was left standing quite still with my head swirling around and around and around. It had not been the king’s voice nor my mother’s voice, but it had surely answered my question as clearly as any voice from the clouds, for I had thought of calling myself an apothecary, and starting a shop that sold herbs and spices, medicines and tonics, and do the one thing I knew how. I could afford it. I began to wonder if some god or another might be real after all.
The shop and its one storey above were empty, and I couldn’t be sure where to go or who to ask about the sale. So I slipped next door, where the door was open. “The shop next door,’ I said in a fluster, “who sells it? And how much?”
The ecclesiastical clerk stomped downstairs and glared at me. “Is this a trick. You wear the palace livery, but you look like a beggar brat. What are you after?”
“Umm, a shop for my father to start his business again,” I said, trying to sound honest. “He was an apothecary in Lydiard all his life, but we travelled to the city last month. I found work in the palace, but my father wants a business again. He can afford a good building. How much is it next door? Who do I ask?”
“Myself, if you are serious,” said the clerk, looking somewhat less contemptuous. “But this is not a cheap rental, and for buying outright, it will be most expensive. Tis a good place with a large room above. There’s a kitchen fire at the back, and there’s a back door to the street leading to the train station and the train south. You can see the Corn and folk from the islands all come here to shop. This is a building belonging to the great chapel, and the priesthood, and this office is where we keep church records. Beyond here is the weaver’s shop, and she makes woven damasks while her husband makes rugs for wall and floor. While on your other side up overlooking the river, are businesses where the wherries are built and repaired. ‘Tis a good area, and that I can promise.”
“Good reasons for a horribly expensive price,’ I grinned. “So what’s the price? And then halve it.”
He looked annoyed once more. “Ten crowns a ten-day to rent. Five hundred crowns to buy. And don’t waste time bargaining for I set no price myself. This property, as I have explained already, belongs to the church.”
I pretended to laugh. In fact, I didn’t really know what such a business might be worth. Clearly, it was a perfect area for starting a shop, but a similar building in Lydiard would have sold for no more than three hundred crowns. So I said, “I can give you three hundred and fifty.”
His head shook as though about to fall off. “No bargaining. Haven’t I made myself clear?”
I was sorry and shook my head. After all, everything was entirely new to me. “I’ll be back with the money as soon as I can,” I said.
I sat on the long grass on the riverbank at a mile’s walk to the west, and there, first making sure I was not being watched, I opened the king’s purse. I tipped it onto my lap and stared in excitement. After all, you can’t believe finding an absolute fortune when you haven’t earned a thing. My dear King Ram had thrust enough into my hand to keep me warm for life. There were one thousand crowns, and a huge emblazoned badge of honour with the royal arms engraved on gold and studded with emeralds and diamonds. It would be worth even more than the money. I had two hundred crowns strapped around my waist, which was the meagre generosity from Lord Lydiard in exchange for saving Jak’s life. His life was worth a lot more, but I had never expected payment. Now I had a full purse the mighty royal token all safely tucked inside a leather purse with a lock on its button, and the king’s seal on the back. I could certainly afford the shop I wanted, and to stock it well with everything I could possibly need to make my home seem like a superior apothecary’s, with a wealthy and therefore skilled doctor and medicine maker.
I could even buy furniture. I had expected once again to sleep on straw. Instead a bought a bed almost as grand as Jak’s, and much cleaner. I bought herbs enough to perfume the street. I couldn’t appear in royal livery, so I bought clothes – respectable clothes, pretty clothes, expensive clothes. I bought a mirror.
Now that was an education in itself. It was an amazing feeling, almost as exciting and strange as the feeling of being in love.
Part II
Chapter Eleven
“You ungrateful whelp,” roared his lordship, “is this the respect you owe to your father? Over all these years – sparing no coin in your education – struggling to bring you up alone after your – dear sainted mother so tragically died – and now this! I warn you, I’ll have you strapped down – chained to the bedposts – bury the key.”
Jak lay panting aga
inst the bolster. His eyes were glazed and fever bright. Freia and her mother had saved his life, but it appeared his father gave neither credit nor acknowledgement for it. Instead, the steady recuperation of the past days had gone up in fire. He stared furiously at his father, and managed to grunt, “After my – sainted mother – tragically died – you sent me away. Within the ten-day. Your only struggle was to get rid of me as quickly as possible.”
“Away from the dangers of contagion,” spluttered Lord Lydiard. “Whilst I stayed – risking the deadly disease which killed your poor mamma – but sent you away to safety. Then your knight’s apprenticeship – the best tutors – the greatest lords to train you. I spared no effort – no coin –”
Limp and spent, Jak was unable to crawl from the bed. When he had first discovered his father’s intentions less than an hour after Freia had been thrown from the house, Jak had cursed and struggled naked to the door. There he fell, too weak to escape. Now he said, “Tie me to the bed if you like. I won’t leave this house.”
“You’ll do as I say, my boy. Or I’ll use some of that damned witch girl’s potions and have you drugged. We’ll stay the next few days with your step-mother’s people at Balm Town, and then when you’re well enough, I’m taking you to Eden City. Time we made an entrance at court.”
Jak was wheezing, nauseas, sensing imminent relapse. “All right. I’ll go – I’ll obey – whatever you say – if you let me see her first.”
Impatient, Lord Lydiard shook his head. “You’re a damned fool, Jak. Why must it be this chit out of all the wenches? I’ve never objected to your philandering, never stopped you spreading your damned seed across the whole damned countryside for the past two years and more. But now this?”
“Then I’ll ask the same question.” Jak struggled to sit and face his father, but his body would not support him, and he fell back panting again against the pillows. “You never cared what I did – never cared who with. So why now? Why drag me away just because it’s Freia?”
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