Alchemy. Maureen Duffy

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ but at the great house we dined and supped in state with many dishes of meat of birds, and beasts, as beef and mutton, coney pies, herons, larks baked, bitterns, plovers and teals with chickens, pheasant and partridge. Cheat and manchet, both coarse and fine wheaten bread we had with butter and eggs and sallets in season, for drink ale and beer and Rhenish wine, and for sweetness tarts, fritters, custards and doucets. The ladies’ skins glistened and plumped, and there was much laughter behind hands and whispering in dark passages when there was no dancing or the play to be had.

      All this time the duenna became more kindly to me, telling me many things of my lady’s childhood, she having been with her since her birth when her mother was my lady’s wet nurse. ‘Which if I should lean upon it would give me the right to call her foster sister but I would not. Yet I am privy to many things known to none else.’ And here she looked at me straightly as if some of them might pertain to me so that I kept very still.

      ‘My mother brought me into her service when I was a girl and charged me to watch over her and keep her from harm. And this I do as best I may. I think there is no harm in you, child Boston, but as for the others I do not trust them. They use her to gain their own ends and not out of love. But any that harm her I will find ways to bring down. There is more than one power that may be called on and the angels, as the old ways say, have care for the innocent.’

      From this I understood that she had been brought up a papist and might be one still but this she would keep from my lady, being with her brother, Sir Philip, and my Lord of Leicester their uncle among the foremost in the work of reformation, and the preservation of the Protestant faith, as her psalms do attest.

      One thing in especial I was glad of in our stay at Wilton in that I might find occasion to visit our old home in Salisbury and that churchyard of St Edmund’s where my father is buried. And now I think as I sit here writing this memorial, that if they should hang me as a witch I shall not lie beside him, my mother and brother in consecrated ground but be flung into a limepit to dissolve without hope of resurrection when the dead shall rise in the flesh. And yet I am innocent of any malicious practice which, if this is not made manifest, then I shall doubt of God himself as the atheists do since he has no power to protect the innocent.

      The first night of our coming to the great house we did not sup in state for my lady was tired from the journey, the ways being very foul and rutted so that she and her ladies were bruised from riding in the coaches which swayed and jolted extremely. The countess went at once to her bedchamber and said that she would receive only the chief steward until the next day. Then came in Mr Davys her steward to report, with gifts newly come from her brother Sir Robert in Flushing where there is much trade with the Indies. Among them, with some French wines, was a parcel of tobacco which she had requested from him, of the finest high Trinidad which my lady became accustomed to during the sickness of the late earl, her husband. ‘For nothing,’ she said, ‘would give him any ease but to take tobacco and I trying it found likewise and for the headache it is the only thing.’

      She called at once for her pipe which Mistress Griffiths filled with a little of the leaf and laid a wax taper to it. My lady drew in the smoke very daintily and her face which before had been warped with fatigue softened at once. ‘Come Amyntas and try what it will do for you,’ she said. So I took my first breath of tobacco to the envy of her ladies who would try it for themselves but she would not let them suck on the pipe for she said their teeth were rotten and their tongues like goats. When I coughed a little from the smoke they laughed very much together and I saw that her speech which was sweet to me would do me harm with the other servants. The taste of it was of herbs blended together as rosemary and sorrel. It seemed to suffuse through my veins like a draught of spiced wine on a winter morning.

      Mr Davys then handed my lady letters from several parts which she bade me open and read. Two were of little account but when I opened the third from Sir Philip her brother’s friend Sir Edward Wotton I found two sheets of paper folded small that seemed to have slipped between the pages by chance. First I read her the letter which was but a report of the queen’s health and the court’s progress towards London. There was no mention of the enclosures which raised my suspicion that they were not intended for the countess.

      ‘What more have you there?’ she asked. I unfolded the papers which were written in a different hand.

      ‘My lady some verses which I think have got in by chance.’

      ‘How so? What verses?’

      ‘They are inscribed “to my dear brother Edward”.’

      ‘Go on child.’

      ‘From his loving brother Henry. Some lines sent me in a letter by my friend the wit J. Donne, secretary to the Lord Keeper. Since he asked that no copies be made of them I send you the originals.’

      ‘This is done to raise his brother’s interest. Let us hear them.’

      ‘My lady, the first is titled “On his Mistress Going to Bed”.’

      ‘Young man’s bawdy. And the second?’

      ‘An heroical epistle. “Sappho to Philaenis.”’

      ‘Begin the first.’

      So I read her:

      Come madam come all rest my powers defy

      Until I labour I in labour lie…

      ‘Enough,’ she said laughing, ‘it is as I supposed. Not to be read in company. Leave us.’ She waved her hand in dismissal to her ladies and Mr Davys and moved from the tapestried chair she had been sitting in to her daily couch, where she reclined in a smoky cloud like to some goddess on an altar wreathed with the haze of sacrifice.

      ‘The tobacco has made me easier. Go on. Begin the second. Let us see if that is meant for women’s ears and eyes.

      ‘Where is that holy fire that verse is said to have…’ I began not seeing as I read what lay in wait for me.

      Plays some soft boy with thee, oh there wants yet

      A mutual feeling that should sweeten it

      His chin a thorny hairy unevenness

      Doth threaten, and some daily change possess.

      Thy body is a natural Paradise,

      In whose self, unmanur’d, all pleasure lies

      Nor needs perfection; why shouldst thou then

      Admit the tillage of a rough harsh man?

      Men leave behind them that which their sin shows,

      And are as thieves trac’d, which rob when it snows,

      But of our dalliance no more signs there are,

      Than fishes leave in streams or birds in air,

      And between us all sweetness may be had;

      All, all that Nature yields, or Art can add.

      ‘What is this Philaenis: man or woman?’

      ‘I do not know my lady. The name suggests a man Philo, the teacher of Cicero.’

      ‘Read on and let us see. There were the brothers, the Philaeni who were buried alive to save their country.’

      My СКАЧАТЬ