Exile (3 page)

The visitors below were dismounting and handing their horses over to grooms. Palace servants rushed here and there, carrying boxes and chests. One of the cloaked figures stood out from the rest. Her cloak was more magnificent and there was something imposing about the way she moved and the way her companions treated her.

“That must be the Banoo,” I said, as Mr. Secretary Cecil and a party of courtiers came out to greet her.

We ran to windows further along the gallery to see if she was as beautiful as we had been told. But no
matter where we stood, we were too high to see anything but the top of her cloaked head as she was led inside.

Then I noticed a cart that looked like a cage. “What's that?” I said, pointing. “Could there be an animal in it?” Not a camel, though, I thought sadly. It was too small to house even the smallest of humped creatures.

As we watched, one of the cloaked men strode over, opened the door of the cage, and took hold of a strong, silver chain. We all held our breath as a beautiful black creature, like a giant cat, padded out and gazed regally around the courtyard. I forgot all about camels, and watched in excitement as the creature walked around on the end of its leash, calmly sniffing the air. It looked as royal as Her Majesty herself (if that is not treasonable talk) and I couldn't wait to get a closer look. Not so the palace servants. They all backed away, and one even dropped his burden and ran off screaming.

“What is that beast?” gasped Carmina.

“It is the size of a tiger!” exclaimed Penelope.

“It is probably just an overlarge cat,” sniffed Lady Jane, trying not to appear impressed in the least.

“It is so beautiful,” I sighed. “Look at its shiny coat! I wonder if Banoo Yasmine would let me stroke it.”

“I would not advise you to go near it,” said Lady Sarah, “unless you wish to get a close look at its teeth!”

“I wish I knew what it is,” I said.

“It is called a panther,” said Mary, smiling. “My sister has a tapestry of Noah's Ark, and every time I visit her, my nephew, Thomas, bids me list all the animals. The panthers are his favourite and he chides me if I call them leopards.”

“Girls!” came a sharp voice behind us.

We all jumped!

It was Mrs. Champernowne, red in the face and out of breath. “I have been searching everywhere for you. The Queen receives the Banoo soon and not one of her Maids of Honour is in attendance. Come along with you. And look you make deep curtsies when the Banoo arrives,” she puffed, as we hurried behind her to the Presence Chamber. “Speak slowly and loudly so she can understand you—and no fidgeting, Grace!”

I might have known that I would be picked out for an extra word of warning. But I only fidget when I get bored. And I certainly wasn't going to be bored with our noble visitor. I wondered if she would bring her panther to the Presence Chamber.

Her Majesty had changed into her lovely gown of
black velvet with a white underskirt to greet her guest. The sleeves are quilted, with slashing to show the white silk underneath, and in each quilted diamond shape rests a tiny gold embroidered leaf. Her ruff is the most exquisite lace and matches her cuffs.

We sank to our knees before the Queen, and then stood chattering nervously as we waited for the Banoo.

“Do you think she'll bring in her panther?” I whispered to Mary Shelton.

“Trust you, Grace,” sniffed Lady Jane. “You really are still a child!”

“I hope the panther sharpens its claws on her gown!” I muttered to Mary.

She squeezed my arm. “Take no notice,” she said quietly. “We must pity Lady Jane. After all, the Banoo may well draw the eyes of all the young gentlemen, so my Lady Jane is feeling anxious.”

Mary was right, of course, but I wasn't as kind as her. I would love to have seen Lady Jane running away from the panther.

Carmina and Penelope had just heard about the Banoo's escape from Sharakand from one of the gentlemen and started to tell us all about it. I had to pretend that this was news to me.

All of a sudden the big doors at the end of the
Presence Chamber swung open. We turned to watch as two large men—with skin as dark as Masou's— strode in and took up their places on either side of the doors. They folded their arms across their chests and looked boldly at us. Their exotic robes sparkled in the candlelight and I noticed that they had long, curling moustaches and beards, quite unlike the men at the English Court. They bowed smartly to the Queen. Then they straightened and stared ahead.

Everyone fell silent as Banoo Yasmine walked in, followed by one Lady-in-Waiting and many servants. She was tall and moved as gracefully as her panther. The Banoo wore a beautiful blue over-robe embroidered with peacock feathers. The elbow-length sleeves were all of a piece with the robe and not laced on like ours. Beneath this, she wore an under- robe of paler blue that fitted closely to her wrists. And there was a decorated leather belt at her waist. Her hair and face were covered with a white silken veil.

As she walked by me, I saw that her under-robe was fastened with tiny blue silk buttons and the belt was set with jewels and silver scrollwork. Just below the waist, the robes flared open to the floor, and to my amazement, I saw that the Banoo did not wear a kirtle but a long loose garment that covered each leg
separately. How daring! I admit I would love to try such comfortable-looking hose and be able to walk as freely as a man. If ever I go to Sharakand I will demand to wear a costume like Banoo Yasmine's and sparkly slippers like hers, too, with the curling toes.

“Look at her robes!” Lady Sarah whispered to Lady Jane. I could see they were impressed in spite of themselves.

“They are like gossamer,” replied Lady Jane. “I should love a gown in the French style made of such light silk.”

“With sleeves of the smoothest satin,” murmured Lady Sarah. I imagine she had the design of her own gown in her head already. “I wonder if that shade of blue would complement the copper in my hair,” she added, curling a strand of it round a finger, and casting a coy glance at the young gentlemen nearby.

“The bright orange of your hair, you mean!” growled Lady Jane, patting her own blond tresses.

It is a shame that they can only agree for a few moments. But then Mrs. Champernowne frowned at them and they fell silent.

Banoo Yasmine pulled back her veil and sank into a graceful curtsy. Her serving men and women prostrated themselves on the floor in front of the Queen.

Her Majesty extended her hand to be kissed and drew the Banoo to her feet. Now we had a chance to see her face. And Masou was right—Banoo Yasmine was indeed beautiful. Her skin was light brown and she had no lead or rouge on her cheeks. Her eyes were large and dark and outlined with kohl. Her veil covered most of her hair, but I could see that it was black as jet. The women at the Court looked very pale in comparison.

“See how the men are goggling!” I heard Lady Sarah whisper anxiously. “They will flock to her like bees to honey and have no eyes for us.”

Lady Sarah was right. All the young courtiers seemed to have lost their wits. They stared at the Banoo transfixed, as if they had been turned to pillars of salt like Lot's wife.

“I warrant she has used unnatural means to enchant them thus,” muttered Lady Jane.

“Well, perhaps you could get her to teach you,” retorted Lady Sarah, but I do not think her companion heard—or at least she pretended not to.

The Queen was welcoming Banoo Yasmine to England with a fine speech. She has no need to write anything down or practise her words, for they flow from her tongue with ease. I am sure it was a wonderful piece of prose but I had something more
important on my mind: where was the panther? Had the Banoo brought it to the Presence Chamber? I tried to peer around her entourage by leaning left, then right. I even stood on my tiptoes but there was no sign of the beautiful black beast. Perhaps it had been left in the stables. I resolved that as soon as I could, I would slip out and discover for myself.

Suddenly Mrs. Champernowne took hold of my sleeve. “I knew you'd fidget, Lady Grace,” she whispered. “Now, stand still!”

I think it is most unfair. There's a great deal of difference between fidgeting and looking for a panther!

Her Majesty finished her speech of welcome.

Banoo Yasmine curtsied again to her. “Your Most Gracious Majesty,” she said. She spoke in a singsong voice just like Masou. Her English was excellent—there would be no need to speak loudly and slowly to her. “It means everything to me,” the Banoo continued, “that you should offer me sanctuary here in your wondrous kingdom.” She raised a hand and touched her fingers to her lips. Then she held the hand out, palm up. “Blessings be upon you and your subjects!”

The Queen offered Banoo Yasmine her arm. “I am conscious that you have not the retinue you are
used to,” she said. “I have therefore instructed Lady Ann Courtenay, Lady Frances Clifford, and Lady Janet Foy and their maids to attend you.”

The ladies curtsied and Banoo Yasmine gracefully nodded her head to them.

Her Majesty then addressed us all. “Tomorrow we shall feast and dance. Our fair guest will know that England is a safe haven and that the English Court is her friend.” Then she bent her head so only those of us close by heard her next words. “Come with me now to meet my trusted Secretary, Mr. Cecil, and we will discuss the loan you requested.”

She led the Banoo away to the other end of the Presence Chamber, where Secretary Cecil stood waiting. The Banoo's guards followed.

The Maids of Honour all curtsied as the Queen passed. Then we gathered together, chattering excitedly.

“Did you see that?” squeaked Carmina. “She's wearing hose! Like a man!”

“And her guards,” put in Penelope, “they're so fierce!”

Lady Jane and Lady Sarah began arguing over which gowns they would wear at the feast tomorrow night. I will do my best to avoid the dancing. I am not
gifted at it, as I think my partners' toes would agree! But I am excited at the prospect of a feast of welcome—as long as there are not too many speeches—for I know that Mr. Somers and his troupe will surpass themselves in the tumbling display.

I am now perched on the very end of my bed and trying to avoid Lady Sarah's flapping arms! She is ranting at Olwen, her tiring woman, for not having her green damask sleeves ready to be laced on. Fran had Mary and me ready ages ago—but then we do not make a fuss!

Faith, my stomach is rumbling. But no more writing now, for Lady Sarah is ready and we are off to the Great Hall for supper.

THE SIXTEENTH DAY OF JANUARY,
IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1570

I am writing by the light of a very short candle. It is still dark outside and I have not heard the cock crow. Mary Shelton is still asleep but to my huge surprise, Lady Sarah is already up and gone.

In truth I wager Lady Sarah is already thinking about the feast and dancing tonight. She probably needs at least twelve hours to make ready, if she is to outshine our noble visitor. She will be ordering Olwen out into the cold to find frosty cobwebs and probably sending her back if she does not find the biggest and frostiest. She has a tiny spot on her chin and she says cobwebs are the only remedy.

I am glad I have woken early. It was too late last night to write in my daybooke. After supper the Queen did not need her Maids to attend her, so I went in search of the panther! I was just making my
way from the table when Mary Shelton beckoned to me. “Where are you going?” she whispered. “You've only had a piece of ginger tart and four comfits. Are you ill?”

“Not me,” I told her. “I am going to find out where the Banoo's panther is. I wager it is kept at the stables.”

“I'm coming with you,” said Mary, wiping her sugary fingers on a cloth. “Then I can tell my nephew Thomas. He will have eyes as big as cartwheels. But don't go racing off without your cloak. Come, it will take but a moment to visit our chamber first.”

It was about nine of the clock when we poked our noses into the stableyard. The lanterns were alight but the shadows were as black as pitch. Holding hands tightly, we made our way across the cobblestones. At the door to the stables we stopped and listened. From inside came some snorts and whinnies.

“I know one thing,” said Mary, sounding relieved.

“That's definitely horses!”

“What does a panther sound like?” I asked.

“Does it miaow?”

“I doubt it,” giggled Mary, nervously. “I think it roars like a lion! At least, that's what Thomas told me, but he is just six and has never seen one.”

All of a sudden the door opened, making us jump! Then we saw the cheerful face of one of the stable- boys.

“It's only Perkin!” breathed Mary.

“Good even, my ladies,” said Perkin, grinning. “I thought I heard voices. But 'tis a deal too late to be riding, I'm thinking. Pray come in out of the cold.”

Perkin is my favourite stableboy. He loves the horses in his care and always makes sure that my mare Doucette's coat is gleaming.

“We've not come to ride, Perkin,” I told him as we followed him into the dimly lit building. Although I'm not fond of riding, I like the stables. There's a nice warm smell and the horses often stick their noses over their stalls in welcome. “We've come to find the panther,” I added. “Is it here?”