The Moon Child Page 2

  They laughed and Cleo looked up at each of them in turn, her clever, black-button eyes gleaming in the firelight.

  The three children and “the poor little mite” were sitting cross-legged in front of a crackling hearth in a square, wood-panelled room just off the Great Hall. They had been banished from the preparations for the celebrations because Cleo had taken a liking to the holly garlands – most specifically, the berries. She had been picking them off and throwing them, very accurately, at the people busy in the hall below.

  Jem stroked Cleo’s rounded back and looked at his friends. Ann’s pale hair shone in the firelight and her green eyes were bright and merry. Instead of the desperate, hollow-cheeked waif he had known, she now glowed with health and happiness. Tolly was different too: he seemed taller than ever, confident and contented. Jem knew why – among the players Tolly had found a home and a family.

  For a moment the image of Malfurneaux Place seared into his mind. The hideous ancient building with its twisted, carved timbers and watchful black windows loomed over him. The double doors swung silently open …

  Jem shook his head roughly to make the picture go away. No wonder Tolly and Ann had changed. When they were the prisoners of Count Cazalon, it was as if his house – Malfurneaux Place – was slowly sucking the life out of them. He shuddered involuntarily. Despite the heat of the fire it seemed the room had suddenly grown cold. Ann pulled her red shawl around her shoulders, leaned forward and poked the log glowing on the hearth with an iron. Golden sparks flew upwards.

  “There. That’s better,” she said, settling back.

  “Don’t think about it.” Tolly’s voice was warm and calm. “We have a pact never to talk about that place or that man. If you let those things come creeping back into your mind it gives them a power – makes them come alive again. I know it’s hard, but it is the best thing to do.”

  Jem looked across at Tolly and nodded, then realised what his friend had just done. “So you’re still an excellent mind-reader? I bet that’s useful for Gabriel!”

  Ann clapped her hands and leaned forward. “He’s brilliant, Jem, not just with the animals – you remember how he was with the lions? – well, it turns out that Tolly is a marvellous actor as well. Gabriel says he could be a new star in the making. Next year he’s going to give him some leading roles. That’s right, isn’t it?”

  “I’m nothing special. Gabriel’s just being kind.” Tolly shifted position and stretched his long legs out in front of him.

  “That’s not true and you know it! Gabriel Jericho is a businessman through and through. If he says you’re good, you are!”

  Jem felt a pang of envy. His friends were out on the road living the sort of life he had always dreamed of. They were free while he was stuck in the schoolroom with Dr Speight and his fusty books and musty robes. Even his weekly fencing lessons with Master Jalbert seemed dull in comparison.

  “And what about you, Jem? Have you seen your father?” Tolly asked.

  Jem realised, guiltily, that Tolly had picked up his thoughts again. He chewed his lip and fondled Cleo’s ears. “No, I haven’t seen him since we came back here. He … he has sent a fencing master to teach me and I am to have my pick of the new foals in the royal stable in the spring because I am going to learn to ride like a proper gentleman, not like a farm hand. But …” He faltered. The truth of the matter was that beyond a couple of brief letters – clearly dictated to a court scribe – he had heard nothing from his father, the king.

  “He must be very busy. I’m sure he thinks about you often.” Ann spoke gently. She smiled and cocked her head to one side so that her long white hair brushed the painted wooden floor. “We all have different paths to follow.” She looked around and up at the intricate plaster ceiling overhead. Jem often thought the plump white fruits and curling vines looked like one of Pig Face’s confectionery creations. He didn’t know where the Duke of Bellingdon’s fat cook was now, but he was glad that little Simeon, the kitchen boy at Ludlow House, and the only person Pig Face had bullied as much as Jem, was here at Goldings and would one day be his steward. The days when he and his mother had been servants themselves in the Duke’s old mansion in the City of London seemed such a long time ago now. To Jem it felt like a different life lived by a different boy.

  “Jem, you are training to be a gentleman, and I know you will be a very good one. You’ll have to take care of all this …” Ann gestured at the ceiling and the panelled walls, “… and your people too.”

  As if on cue, a huge laugh came from the hall beyond and Eliza’s broad, red-cheeked face appeared around the door. “Your friend Mr Jericho is a very wicked man, Master Jeremy. I hope you know what you and your mother are letting us all in for this evening. I’ve never heard such … Ooh!”

  Eliza jumped as Gabriel sidled past her and into the room. He was wearing a broad-brimmed hat with a huge red feather and a trailing travel cloak.

  “So this is where you’ve all been hiding, is it?” He thumped over to the fire and plonked himself down next to Jem, stretching his hands out to the flames. “Lovely place you have here. Bit of a surprise to find you own all this, eh?”

  Jem grinned broadly as the burly showman swept off his hat, loosened his cloak and began to pull off his boots. “Gabriel! It’s so good to see you!”

  “Well, we’ve missed you too, lad. I’m always saying to these two it’s not the same without you. Even if you are a lordling, there’s always a place for you with us – if you’ve a mind to it.”

  “It’s true, he often says you would have made a good player.” Tolly reached across to brush a glowing cinder that had popped from the fire away from the end of Cleo’s tail.

  Jem spluttered, “But I wasn’t much of an actor!”

  “Never you mind that – you’re a fine-looking lad and that’s what the girls come to see a play for these days.” Gabriel’s brown eyes twinkled mischievously. “What do you say, Ann?”

  Her pale cheeks flushed. For the first time ever, as far as Jem could remember, she seemed to be stuck for words.

  Gabriel laughed and the deep, hearty sound made Jem smile from ear to ear. He felt warmth tingle through every part of his body and he knew it wasn’t from the heat of the fire. “I am so glad you’ve all come. My mother kept it secret until yesterday. I don’t know how she did it.”

  “You couldn’t hold a proper Twelfth Night feast in the old style without players! Of course your mother wanted us here. We’re the finest mummers in the country.” Gabriel slapped Jem’s back. “And she knew how important it was to you, lad. We are your Twelfth Night gift.”

  Jem sighed contentedly, stretched his arms out behind him and leaned back, beaming at his friends.

  “I have another gift for you too, Jem,” Ann said. “I’ve been making costumes for us.” Cleo chirruped and jumped into the midst of the group. “Costumes for all four of us,” Ann continued, laughing at the monkey’s enquiring expression. “Really, Tolly, I swear that sometimes she’s a better mind-reader than you!”

  Gabriel shuffled back from the fire on his large bottom. Jem heard the big man’s knees crack as he stood up. “Mind-reading, is it? I’ll tell you three something in confidence now …” He tapped a finger against the side of his nose. “I’ve got something rather special prepared for this evening – a surprise, and that’s all I’m going to say.” He narrowed his eyes and looked pointedly at Tolly. “And before you, or that monkey, go rummaging around in my head to try to find out what it is, I’m going to leave you.”

  He plonked the feathered hat back on his head, gathered up his boots and padded in his thick woollen socks back towards the door to the Great Hall.

  Jem leaped to his feet. “You can’t go now! You have to tell us more. What’s going to happen tonight?”

  Gabriel removed his hat again and performed a sweeping theatrical bow.

  “All I’m going to say, Lord Jeremy, is this: tonight Goldings House will witness something so extraordinary, something so marvellous,
something so completely, stupendously amazing that by dawn tomorrow Gabriel Jericho and his Theatrical Circus will be the toast of the county. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have lions to see to.”

  The showman clapped his hat back on his head, pulled his cloak around him and swept from the room.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Jem, this is wonderful!”

  Sarah’s blue eyes sparkled as she and Jem watched the celebrations in the hall below from their vantage point halfway up the wide oak staircase. The air was full of the sound of music and laughter, and thick with the scent of spices and burning wood. In the great hearth a giant Yule log cut from an old apple tree filled the hall with the comforting smell of fruitsweetened smoke.

  Hundreds of fat candles balanced carefully on beams and in every nook and cranny flooded the hall with a soft golden glow. As guests and players moved around, their colourful costumes – some strewn with sequins or tiny glittering mirrors – threw shimmering points of light onto the panelled walls.

  “It’s just as it was when I was a girl,” Sarah continued. “Jamie and I loved the Twelfth Night feast. My grandfather, your great-grandfather, kept it in the old way and people came from all over the county to celebrate with us. But when he died and my father inherited Goldings, he changed things. He didn’t approve of the past, you see. He …” Sarah stopped herself and pointed with her delicate birdhead mask. “Look – the cockatrice!”

  Jem followed her gaze. Four men carrying a broad silver platter on their shoulders entered the hall. Through the crowd, he couldn’t quite make sense of the peculiar, feathered shape sitting on top of the platter.

  “What is it?” he asked as the men swayed towards them.

  “It’s for the feast. My grandfather always had our cooks prepare a cockatrice to feed as many people as possible. It’s a mythical beast like a dragon – but, of course, dragons don’t exist so our Goldings cockatrice has the head of a stag, the body of a pig, the wings of a cockerel, the front legs of a sheep and the haunches of a bull. I told the cook exactly how to make it. Look, here it is. Isn’t it splendid?”

  Jem looked down in silence. The men paused and dipped respectfully in front of Sarah and Jem before setting the edible monster down at the centre of a long table piled high with tarts, pastries, meats, cheeses and bread.

  Everyone burst into whoops of delight as the strange creature took prime position, but all Jem could think of at that moment were the strange, deformed creatures that Count Cazalon had created for his own amusement – the poor, wretched, sewn-together things he had seen inside Malfurneaux Place.

  “Don’t, Jem!” Tolly’s voice sounded clearly in his head. “Remember what I said earlier. Don’t let the bad thoughts in.”

  Jem looked down at the hall, but he couldn’t see Tolly anywhere.

  A masked golden figure at the centre of the hall waved at him and the voice came again. “I’m here and Ann’s waiting outside with your costume. Come on.”

  Grateful to get away from the cockatrice, Jem turned to Sarah. “Can I go with Tolly? Ann has my costume – it’s a surprise.”

  “Of course. I wonder what you’ll be? Come and show me.”

  He took a step down but then Sarah called out, “Wait, I almost forgot. I wanted to give you this tonight.” She felt into the folds of her dress and held out her hand. “It belonged to my grandfather – my father never wore it. He said it was ungodly, but Jamie always wore it about his neck.”

  Jem stepped back up to be level with her again. “What is it?” He had to shout because the jolly music was becoming louder. People were dancing now.

  Sarah shook her head and smiled. “I’m not sure. It’s very old, that’s all I know. It was always worn by the eldest Verrers boy – until … Now it’s yours. Wear it.”

  She reached up to loop the golden chain over his head and Jem took the heavy, coin-sized medal in his hand. It was studded with rough jewels and around the edge was an inscription in letters he didn’t recognise.

  “Keep it safe, Jem. Now, I must go. One of us, at least, must attend to our guests.” Sarah reached up to affectionately ruffle his hair. She grinned as he pulled a face. “One day soon I won’t be able to do that. You are growing so tall!” She raised the neat feathery mask to her face and stepped down the stairs. As she moved into the throng, people began to clap and call her name.

  Jem tucked the medal into his shirt and watched with delight as Gabriel, dressed in a magnificent breastplate and helmet, caught his mother’s hand, kissed it and whisked her off into a group of swirling dancers. Tonight was going to be wonderful. He knew it.

  Ann made a final adjustment to the hem of the cloak. “You have definitely got taller, Jem – just like Tolly. You two are sprouting like birch trees!” She stood up, brushed her skirt and surveyed her handiwork. “You look wonderful. I knew that red and gold would be right. What do you think, Tolly?”

  Tolly shuffled back on the bunk in the curved caravan so that he could see Jem from head to foot and nodded. “You look like a prince from the old tales my father used to tell. Is it heavy?”

  Jem shook his head. “No, it’s very easy to move around in. And the sword is wonderful.” He patted the hilt of the curved blade, which was carved into the head of a falcon with glinting red glass eyes. It hung from a thick golden band at his waist.

  “Gabriel found that in his stores. It’s only painted wood. This is the final touch.” Ann reached up to a shelf above the bunk. The candle lantern swayed as she produced a feathered turban made from twisted lengths of brilliantly patterned silk.

  “It’s not a crown exactly – not like your father’s, anyway – but I thought that a king from the East wouldn’t wear one like that. Try it.”

  Jem took the turban and pushed it down over his springy black curls. It felt as if he was wearing a bolster on his head. He hoped he wouldn’t have to wear it all night. Jem looked across at Tolly on the bunk. The dark boy grinned and winked.

  “She’s worked really hard. I’ve been her dummy for the past two weeks. I had to model your costume.”

  “And it’s perfect!” Ann reached up to brush a speck from Jem’s shoulder. “So, now do you see? Tonight at the Twelfth Night feast we will be the Magi – the three kings. What do you think of Tolly’s costume?”

  Jem looked at the horned lion mask sitting beside his friend. Cleo was curled up inside it, her long tail poking out. The little monkey had clearly decided to make it her nest.

  When Tolly put the mask on, it covered half of his face so that only the tip of his nose and his mouth showed. The mane, which hung over his shoulders and stretched halfway down his back, was made from hundreds of overlapping golden discs that jingled when he moved.

  “It’s brilliant – I didn’t recognise him in the great hall. Did you make the mask too?”

  Ann nodded. “Along with the rest of his costume – the toga and the winged sandals. He is the king of the desert lands.”

  She knelt beside the bunk, reached down and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. “And, finally, I am to be the king of the forests.” Carefully she unfolded the bundle to reveal an incredibly delicate silver crown – a lattice of curling twigs and vines. Tiny golden acorns and leaf-green jewels quivered gently as Ann held the crown up to catch the lamplight. Jem thought it was almost like a living, growing thing.

  Ann placed the crown at the foot of the bunk bed and began to wind her thick white hair into a tight ball at the back of her head. She kicked the little door of her caravan open with her foot and it swung back to reveal Goldings House across the courtyard – every window glowing with light.

  The sound of fiddles and pipes and the scent of roasting meat wafted across the snow. Jem’s mouth began to water. He had completely forgotten the cockatrice.

  “Now, you two must wait outside for a moment while I change.” Ann grinned and her words misted in the sudden inrush of midwinter air. “A king doesn’t wear a dress!”

  “Do you think that’s what Gabriel
meant when he told us about the surprise?”

  Jem gasped as an acrobat dangling from a trapeze swooped above his head. The grinning man was carrying flaming torches in both hands. As he swung back, the man curled up on himself, twisted in mid-air and tossed the torches to another performer swinging from the opposite side of the hall. The crowd below cheered and clapped.

  Ann ducked involuntarily as the acrobats overhead performed their routine for a third time. “I know that Saro and Cornelius have been practising in secret for the last couple of weeks. Even on Christmas Day they went up on the ropes in the camp and everyone was forbidden to watch. But we’ve seen this before, haven’t we, Tolly?”

  Tolly took a huge bite out of the roasted chicken leg in his hand and nodded. “It’s their usual routine. There must be more to come.” He licked his fingers. “This is truly excellent, Jem. You must dine like a lord every day now!”

  Jem looked up at the acrobats and felt another small stab of envy as he thought of his friends. This amazing display must be as commonplace for them as Dr Speight and his lessons were for him.

  A sudden trumpet blast sounded, clear and high.

  The hall fell silent as the double doors leading out to the kitchens opened to reveal a huge multilayered cake standing on a wheeled wooden board. As tall as a man and broad as an ox, the massive pyramid of icing sugar was pushed slowly to the centre of the room by a party of beaming servants, Simeon among them.

  There were murmurs of appreciation as the cake juddered to a halt.

  Jem waved at Simeon and the small boy scurried over. “It was Eliza’s idea, Jem, er … sir,” he whispered. “In the old days, when Sarah … sorry, when the mistress was a girl here, they always had a Twelfth Night cake. There’s a golden bean hidden in there somewhere and whoever finds it is the king of the feast. For the rest of the night they can tell everyone what to do. We all get a piece so it doesn’t matter who finds it.” Simeon gazed admiringly at the towering cake. Jem was able to read Simeon’s mind at that moment as easily as Tolly could.