Petals in the Ashes (12 page)

‘Is one of them the sleeping beauty who was put under a wicked spell?' Anne asked in awe.

I shook my head. ‘I don't know,' I said wonderingly, ‘but they are mighty strange.'

The entrance curtain was just then pulled aside again and two well-dressed ladies came into the show, starting with fright just as we had done at the sight of the trio there.

Then one began to laugh. ‘Do not fear – they are made of wax!' she said to her companion. ‘I have seen similar at Southwarke Fair.'

‘But so real!' said her friend in awe.

‘I believe the maker is a skilled artist who does likenesses on tombs.'

The other said, shuddering, ‘I don't like them. They're too lifelike for me.'

‘Too death-like!' corrected the first as they went out.

Anne and I now looked again, rather disappointed, at the wax statues. ‘Then they're not enchanted sleeping beauties,' she said.

I shook my head. ‘I suspect that little in this fair is what it seems to be.'

Feeling hungry, we went to Pie Corner and had hot pasties and a dish of peas, followed by gilt gingerbread and buttered ale, all of which were excellent. We saw a Dog Toby dance the hornpipe, then Jacob Hall – who was rumoured to be the lover of several high-born ladies – performing on a tightrope high in the air and making everyone scream with fright at his antics. We heard bands and bagpipes, kettledrums and fiddlers, and saw many more sights, including the educated ape of whom Mr Newbery had spoken.

Anne then found a gypsy who, on her hand being crossed with a piece of silver, promised to tell you who you would marry and how many children you would have, and said she would return your money if it didn't come true.

‘Oh do let me go!' Anne implored me. ‘She says she sees spirits walk and fairies dance – and I do so want to know who I'll marry.'

‘But it costs a piece of silver!' I said. ‘And how will you get your money back from her if none of it comes true?'

Anne looked shocked. ‘She is a high-born gypsy queen!' she said. ‘She has second sight. Of course it'll come true.'

I might have relented and gone to the gypsy as well (for of course I, too, was anxious to know if I would marry) but then, at last, I saw on the edge of the field
a board announcing
Count de'Ath and his Magick Cabinet.

I steered Anne away from the gypsy. ‘We will go later perhaps,' I said. ‘But for now we must go and find the man I came to see.'

The Count was standing on some steps by his tent, which was of a large oval shape and looked as if it could contain a hundred people. Tall, dark and strange-looking, he was pointing with a stick at the words on the board before him. I read them out to Anne.
‘An enchantment so strong that men can be turned to air! See someone enter my cabinet and be transported over land and sea, never to return!'

‘You're not going into that cabinet!' Anne said in sudden fright, putting her arm round my waist. ‘I shan't let you go!'

‘Of course I'm not going in it,' I said. ‘I just want to see the magic performed again, and perhaps speak to the Count.'

The board announced a show starting on the stroke of every hour, and we paid our three pence and entered, ready to wait the twenty minutes or so. Evidently Count de'Ath had quite a following, for there was already a small crowd inside sitting on benches and waiting for three o'clock.

We sat towards the back and began talking of all the sights we had seen that day, and indeed were glad of the rest in the cool darkness of the tent, which was lined in some black cloth and had only some tapers to light it.

More people entered, and then it was three o'clock and Count de'Ath himself came through from outside and walked on to the small wooden stage at the front,
where his cabinet stood ready. As before, he went through the same talk – asking if there was anyone who wanted to escape from his wife or creditors and saying they could enter his cabinet and be transported away.

As before, no one in the audience moved.

He asked again for someone to enter the box. ‘And ze price vill merely be your soul,' he added.

There were a few gasps, then an eerie silence, as if everyone were holding their breath.

I scanned the front rows. No one. No one who looked like Tom.

But then someone got to his feet. ‘I will go!' a man called. ‘I will leave this land of horror and plague, and if I lose my soul then so be it!'

The man who'd spoken was a monk, in rough brown habit tied with rope and a deep hood over his head which half-concealed his face. A stir ran around the audience at seeing his garb. ‘A holy monk to lose his soul!' Anne said, shocked, for indeed it did seem terrible that a man of God should have truck with the Devil's work.

Count de'Ath spent some moments telling the monk exactly when it would be necessary to extract payment for the journey he would be making, and how there was no going back on this strange bargain, and through it all I sat enraptured, listening to everything, watching avidly and hardly breathing, so intense was my scrutiny of everything that was happening on the stage. The man would go to Hell, sure as anything. How desperate he must be!

Two men from the audience examined the cabinet carefully, tapping it back and front, and then the
monk silently turned and entered it. It was then that my heart stood still, for under the hood I saw that it was Tom, and no other.

How could this be?

Amazed and unbelieving, I wanted to call out, yet could not, for I felt as frozen and petrified as the wax people we had seen. The curtain was pulled across, concealing the monk from view. Count de'Ath muttered something in a strange language and then a moment passed, the curtain was opened again and the monk was gone.

Several women in the audience screamed and there was a groan from a man in front of us.

‘Oh, where has he gone?' Anne whispered.

Count de'Ath bowed stiffly, then the audience was dismissed and began to shuffle out, looking mystified and amazed.

‘Real enchantment!' Anne said wonderingly. ‘Now that was proper magic, wasn't it?'

‘I … I do not know.'

She stood up and tugged at my hand. ‘Where shall we go now?'

I didn't move, for I was confused, and couldn't come to terms with all that was in my head. First Tom was dead, then I saw him go into a magic cabinet at the theatre and vanish, then he appeared as a monk – and then disappeared again.

Was he really dead?

Had he become a monk?

Had he sold his soul?

‘Come on!' Anne said. ‘We must see more things before it gets dark.'

I shook my head. ‘I have something I must do. I
think … I think I know the person who went into the cabinet.'

‘What?' Anne looked at me strangely. ‘How do you know a monk?'

‘He may not be a monk.' I shook my head as if to clear it. ‘Wait for me, Anne. I have to go to see Count de'Ath.'

I ran outside, but the Count was not yet back on his stand at the front of the tent trying to entice people for the next performance, so I went around to the back. Here there was a square canvas tent about as tall as a man, with a flap-door tied up with rope. Someone was within, that was certain, for the canvas was moving about as if someone were divesting themselves of their clothing.

‘Count de'Ath?' I enquired uncertainly, and then, ‘Tom?'

The movement ceased.

‘Tom?' I asked again, ‘is it you?' And at once a surge of joy and certainty ran through me so that I felt filled with light and happiness. ‘It's Hannah.'

The canvas door was pushed aside and Tom was there looking at me in disbelief: he was thin, pale and shorn of his hair, but not dead at all. Not a monk. Nor changed into air and transported over seas.

‘Tom!' I said, a sob half-choking me. ‘It's really you. I thought you were dead!'

‘I thought
you
were!'

And then losing all modesty, I put my arms around his thin frame and held him as if I would never let him go.

From beside us, there was a drawn-out gasp. ‘What's happening and who is this?' Anne's voice
asked. Neither of us answered and a moment later her tone changed and became pert and lively. ‘Oh, Hannah! Is this your sweetheart?'

Still holding on to him tightly, I managed to nod. ‘Yes, Anne. Yes, this is Tom.'

‘My maid called us up about three in the morning to tell us of a great fire they saw in the City. So I rose and went to the window … but thought it far enough off and so went to bed again and to sleep.'

The following day I was in an agony of suspense as I waited for Tom to arrive – mostly because I could hardly believe that he was really coming. When I'd woken that morning it had seemed to me that I'd imagined the whole thing and had only dreamt that I'd found him at the fair, for to meet someone you thought was dead seemed a strange and incredible thing – and to discover that person in the cabinet of a magician even more fantastical. It was only Anne's questioning of me as soon as my eyes were open that told me that it had really happened.

‘But what do you
think
he was doing there?' she asked, leaning up on one elbow in our bed to stare at me.

I shook my head, still as baffled as she.

‘Is he really a monk? Did he not go into that
cabinet? How could he just disappear from it and be outside all the time?'

‘I don't know, I don't know, I don't know!' I said.

‘Will he really come round today?'

‘He promised he would …'

Rising, I found we were out of water, so I threw a shawl over my nightshift and went down to the well at the end of the lane to draw some. As I walked back, I swung the buckets I carried and felt like bursting out singing. Tom was alive. I'd found him. He hadn't died of plague at all!

The afternoon before, when I'd stopped crying, he'd peeled my arms away gently and told me to go to the front of the stand before Count de'Ath came and found us speaking.

‘I will explain all to you tomorrow,' he'd said. ‘Are you living at the shop again?'

I'd nodded. ‘But do you truly promise to come to me?'

‘I truly promise! It's Sunday and the fair will be closed. The Count owes me some free time.'

‘But how have you—'

‘It's been a deal of do,' he'd said, ‘but I will tell all tomorrow. Go now, or I'll lose my job!'

Now, as I carried the water into our shop, Mr Newbery was just coming out of his. He was not wearing his wig and his face was fuddled with sleep, his eyes rheumy.

I bade him good morning, but he scowled at me and held his head, and I guessed he had spent overlong at the alehouse the previous night. I was very anxious to tell someone my news, however. ‘Anne and I enjoyed Bartholomew Fair, Mr Newbery!' I said. ‘And the
most surprising and excellent thing – you remember my friend Tom who worked with Doctor da Silva the apothecary along the lane?'

‘The 'pothecary died of plague,' he said gruffly. ‘And so did his lad.'

‘But he
didn't
, though,' I said. ‘For I found him at the fair. Tom, my sweetheart!'

He grunted. ‘Is he much changed and crippled by having the sickness?'

‘Hardly changed at all!'

‘Then the disease went inside,' he said, nodding sagely. ‘More than likely he will be mad.'

I could do naught but laugh. ‘He's not mad at all! He's as sensible as you and I and he's coming round today!'

But Mr Newbery just gave another grunt and shuffled off down the road.

By the time the bell-man rang two o'clock, though, I was getting concerned. Anne and I had spent the morning busily preparing frosted petals and making several violet cakes with some flowers we'd bought at the fair, but by noon our rooms were straight and I was ready – more than ready, for indeed I'd changed my dress several times. Though I loved my green taffeta gown best of all, I remembered that Tom had seen this when we'd walked out the previous year, so felt compelled to change into my tabby suit. I then thought my blue linen gown might be more suitable (for it was another hot day) but once it was on me I found that it had several spots on it – from Anne wearing it – so changed back once again into my green taffeta.

All this was regarded very closely by Anne, who watched me with interest and then offered me patches and hair pomade, both of which I turned down. I put some orange flower water behind my ears and a little rose oil on my lips, however, and did not think this too immodest.

‘Are you sure he'll come?' she asked, as I settled for the green, hung up my other gowns and swore I would not change again. ‘For I still don't understand how he
can
, for he was supposed to be changed into air and sent over lands and seas …'

‘I don't know either,' I said, walking once again to the shutters and peering out. ‘But I believe he'll come.'

By the time the crier called three I was fair distracted out of my mind, but a little after this we heard a tap on the door. Anne sprang to it and flung it open before I could pose myself, for I had thought to be seated demurely with Kitty on my lap, but instead was seen crouched down engaged in picking something off my shoe.

Tom stood in the doorway and removed his hat and bowed, and I rose hastily and curtseyed, which actions seemed formal and strange to me, seeing as I had spent some moments the previous afternoon sobbing in his arms. But then he came over and kissed my cheek and took my hand in his, and we sat together on the wooden bench in the shop, with Anne on the chair a little distance off, surveying us with interest.

‘I'm sorry to be later than I wanted to be,' he said. ‘I had to run an errand on the way and got tangled in a crowd near the river, for there's much astir there.'