Exile (4 page)

“The panther, my lady?” Perkin sounded puzzled.

“Is that the name of one of the Arabian horses? They're up at the end there. Fine animals, all of 'em.”

“No,” I said. “It is the beast that arrived with the Banoo.”

“The big black creature, Perkin,” explained Mary. “It looks like a large cat.”

“Oh, that thing!” laughed Perkin. “So it's called a panther, is it? We thought it were a sort of tiger
with no stripes. We wouldn't want it near our horses, with them teeth and claws and growling and suchlike, that much I do know. 'Twould upset them no end.” He rubbed the nose of the nearest horse.

“And we don't want that, do we, Guinevere?”

The horse snorted softly at him. I looked at the calm row of noses poking over the stalls. Perkin was right. A large cat with fangs would create havoc in here.

“Do you know where the panther is, Perkin?” I persisted. “Surely someone has had to go and attend to it.”

He shook his head. “Well, it ain't none of us from the stable, my lady. And we wouldn't want to, neither. They do say it's not an animal at all but an evil sorcerer who takes 'is true shape when darkness falls and wanders about filling folk with the terrors.” He held up his lantern and grinned. “Now, let me show you back to the palace, my ladies.”

I didn't believe a word of his tale, but we said yes to the lantern because we did not want to trip over in the dark—and for the same reason I held on to Mary Shelton very tightly until we got to our chamber.

Mary is stirring now. It is daylight. I suppose I should get dressed and—

I had to break off my writing this morning, for there was the most awful screeching outside my chamber. I opened the door to find Lady Jane trying to pull Lady Sarah's ruff off, Lady Sarah slapping back at her, and Mrs. Champernowne trying to pull them apart.

“That is not your ruff, Lady Jane,” Mrs. Champernowne was panting. “Yours is in your chamber. Now, get along with you both. I've seen better behaviour from the crows outside!”

Lady Jane hurried off down the corridor and Lady Sarah sailed indignantly into our bedchamber.

I was enjoying the feeling of not being the one in trouble—for about two ticks of the clock.

“And what are you doing, Lady Grace?” asked Mrs. Champernowne. “Standing there gaping, look you. You'll never be ready in time.”

It did not take me long to get dressed, and Mary Shelton and I were soon on our way to the Presence Chamber. The palace was bustling. It is always busy at Court but there seemed to be more people than ever.

“It wasn't even this busy at Twelfth Night,”
gasped Mary, as we got entangled in a crowd of carpenters and joiners making their way to the Great Hall with their tools and wood. “I believe they are building something for the revels tonight. I cannot wait!”

I too am excited about tonight and wonder what Mr. Somers has planned for his acrobatic troupe. And I hope I may be able to speak with the Banoo— then I can ask her all about the panther!

After breakfast, Her Majesty was to spend the morning with the Lord Treasurer, dealing with the palace accounts. Unfortunately we were to attend her—all day. Why we have to sit around while the Queen and her minister go on and on about prices of food and furniture I do not know. But it is one of my duties, as Mrs. Champernowne is forever telling me.

We sat on our cushions. Penelope and Carmina began a whispered conversation—which was difficult for them, as they usually like to shriek. On the other hand, Lady Jane and Lady Sarah found it very easy not to talk as they were both sulking magnificently. Mary Shelton had taken up quill and parchment and begun a long letter to her nephew. I guessed it was for young Thomas, for who else would be getting a drawing of a panther?

I sat on my hands for a while. Then I hummed a
line or two of a madrigal about a dying deer until Penelope hissed at me to be quiet. I hadn't got my daybooke so, sadly, I could not write! I could hear sounds of the carpenters in the Great Hall, though I still do not know what they are preparing.

Mrs. Champernowne saw me fidgeting and immediately came over with a basket of tangled tapestry wools. My heart sank at the thought of sorting them.

“Well, Grace,” she said solemnly. “You have a choice. You can help me with my wool or you can give Her Majesty's dogs a short walk. A difficult decision, I warrant.”

I pretended to think for a minute.

“Oh, get you gone, girl!” she laughed. “If you tarry, I shall have the wool round your hands and you will be a prisoner.”

I sometimes forget that Mrs. Champernowne has a kind side. It is usually well hidden beneath her disapproving half! I said thank you and rushed off before she changed her mind.

I took Henri, Philip, and Ivan for a run in the herb garden. I made the walk last for as long as I could. If only I could have met up with Ellie and Masou, but they were far too busy working for tonight's revels. I think I was the only person in the palace who had nothing to do.

It is only just past three of the clock but I suppose I will soon be plagued by Mrs. Champernowne into getting ready for this evening. I could lay out my gown, as I have nothing else to do. It is new and a gift from Her Majesty. I ruined an old kirtle in my duties as Lady Pursuivant and the Queen insisted on replacing it with a fine white silken gown with butterflies embroidered on the false front of the petticoat and Bruges lace edging the partlet.

I have laid out my kirtle, my sleeves with their laces, my stomacher, my bumroll, my stays, my chemise and partlet, and my stockings. Now what shall I do?

I am in my bedchamber and huddled close to the fire. Although why I am bothering I do not know, for it is giving off so little heat. Fran came in and dampened it some time ago, hinting that I should be better employed trying to get to sleep. Mary Shelton and Lady Sarah are both already in sleep's embrace.

We have had such a night! Soon after the clock
struck five, the other Maids and I processed into the Great Hall. Most of the Court was already there.

“Make sure you carry yourselves well, girls,” said Mrs. Champernowne encouragingly as we filed past her. “We do not want the Banoo to think she has come among savages.”

Well, I tried to look solemn and stately, but when I saw the decorations I forgot all about it and gasped out loud. You couldn't see the vaulted ceiling for beautiful blue silken drapes—each one painted with exotic birds in flight. The drapes moved in the heat of the candles and it appeared as if the birds were truly hovering above us. The end of the hall was also covered with sweeping drapes, painted with images of camels and their riders. And the whole floor had been laid with golden cloth. It was wonderful.

“This symbolises the desert sands and skies of Sharakand,” Mary Shelton whispered to me.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“Edith told me,” she said. “You know Edith, the young seamstress who helps Olwen out now and then? Her sister is married to John Baxter, who works in the forge, and there's a young boy there whose kinsman helped out with the painting.”

As I gazed around, I could not help wondering
what had kept the carpenters and joiners so busy all day. There was no sign of their work. But before I had a chance to find out, I realized that everyone had fallen silent and was looking towards the door.

The Banoo stood there with her retinue behind her. Then she glided into the room. She was like the Queen—everyone naturally turned to look at her as she came in.

She seemed more beautiful than ever in a tunic of green satin embroidered all over with golden thread. She was not wearing the strange hose that showed her legs today, but a straight floating skirt under her tunic. Her hair was covered with a golden veil of the finest gauze. But everyone's eyes were drawn to her forehead, for there she wore a circlet of gold cloth, and in the very centre a large ruby hung upon her brow.

Carmina gave me a nudge. “It is the Heart of Kings!” she breathed.

“I never thought we'd get to see it!” gasped Penelope. “Isn't it meant to be magical? It can't be safe to look at it!” She covered her eyes.

“Of course it is,” Mary Shelton assured her. “It is just a jewel like any other.”

“A deep red jewel!” exclaimed Lady Jane. “Not
everyone could carry that off.” She smirked at Lady Sarah. “Certainly not those with red hair!”

“Do you mean Her Majesty?” replied Lady Sarah, looking innocent. “I must go and tell her what you've said.” She turned towards the door. “We would not want her to make a fool of herself.”

Lady Jane grabbed her arm. “Oh no, Sarah!” she hissed. “Don't, I pray you. It was but a jest. I didn't mean anything by it.”

I knew Lady Sarah wouldn't really tell the Queen but it was fun to see the oh-so-superior Lady Jane squirm.

Suddenly there was a deafening fanfare and we all knelt as the Queen entered. Her black and silver gown sparkled with jewels and she wore at least five long strings of pearls. She must have been wearing her largest farthingale, for her skirts billowed out impressively and swished and swayed as she walked. She was magnificent!

The Queen held her hand out to her visitor. “Come, Yasmine. You are our most important guest at this feast. I would have you sit with me at table and tell me tales of ancient Sharakand.”

“You do me great honour, Most Noble Majesty,” answered the Banoo, in her lovely English.

The Queen led her to a place at her right hand. Secretary Cecil and Her Majesty's Privy Councillors sat on either side. The rest of us took our places at the long tables around.

Servants came to us with bowls of water and cloths and we rinsed our hands, ready to eat. I saw that Banoo Yasmine watched everything the Queen did very closely. Our ways here in England must be very different from what she is used to. For example, I do not believe the people of Sharakand sit at tables. I think they sit cross-legged on beautiful carpets on the floor. And I have heard that some of these carpets are enchanted and can actually fly!

When we had washed our hands, Archbishop Parker, who is currently at Placentia to talk with the Queen of the religious wars in France, began the long prayer.

“All things depend upon Thy providence, O Lord, to receive at Thy hands due sustenance in time convenient….”

I am always thankful to God for my food, but I think it can be said in a sentence instead of a paragraph. While the Archbishop prayed, my mind started to wander. I began to think about where the panther could be. Was it being kept in the armouries? There is plenty of room there. Or possibly
the cellars—although I didn't think it would like that unless it enjoys the smell of wine. Then I realised that everyone was chanting the amen and a whole army of servants was approaching with the food.

There were dishes of pheasant, beef, and venison, each one presented first to the Queen and then to the Banoo. Then three young boys staggered in with a great platter on which was balanced a stuffed swan, every feather still in place. I think it is a shame to eat such a beautiful bird, although the only time I came very close to one was at the park of St. James's and it made a horrible hissing noise and chased me round the lake!

Our guest ate very little of the feast.

“Don't they have cows in Sharakand?” I whispered to Carmina as the Banoo pushed some beef around her trencher with her knife. The beef was very tasty, cooked in a prune sauce.