I’m an author of historical fiction and non-fiction based in the beautiful county of Lancashire from where I draw many of my stories. On this site you’ll find the first chapters of my novels and some short stories to read for free. If you delve a little deeper, you’ll discover all sorts of interesting things that I’ve come across in my research – especially about the history of the de Lacys, Lords of Blackburnshire. Just click on the links to get started.
Yesterday I visited Grange over Sands and was reminded that it was here, on Humphrey Head, that the last wolf in England was killed – or so the story goes.
I included this story in my book Tales of Lancashire, because Grange is in the original county of Lancashire, in an area known as Lancashire over Sands.
Sir Edgar Harrington of Wraysholme Tower had sworn to hunt out and kill every last wolf from Cartmel Forest. He had also promised that the man who killed the last wolf would receive the hand of his niece in marriage and half of his lands as well. His niece was a beautiful young girl named Adela who had been orphaned and was now Sir Edgar’s ward. Many of the local men were keen to make her their wife, especially a knight named Laybourne, but Adela was in love with her cousin, Sir Edgar Harrington’s son, John. Sir Edgar disapproved of this attachment and, following an argument, his son had gone away to fight in a foreign war, but before he left the young couple had sworn to be faithful to one another.
It was thought that John Harrington had been killed in battle, but the night before the wolf hunt a young knight, a stranger mounted on a white Arab stallion, came to Wraysholme Tower, calling himself Delisle. He was invited to stay and join the hunt.
The next day the huntsmen set out. Laybourne rode a large Flemish carthorse, of the type that could carry the heavy weight of a knight in chainmail and metal armour. The stranger, Delisle, rode his fleet-footed Arab.
They hunted the wolf from its lair through a long and tiring day, chasing it all around Cartmel Forest and even across part of Windermere, before heading it off towards Humphrey Head late in the evening. Out of all the men who set out, now only Laybourne and Delisle remained in the hunt. They chased the wolf up the limestone crag, but when they reached a gaping chasm in the rock, Laybourne’s heavy horse refused to jump across. But the knight Delisle was determined to win the hand of Adela and spurred his horse across the gap. It was too wide and the horse’s hooves couldn’t get a grip on the far side and it tumbled to its death, but Delisle managed to cling onto the ground and was unhurt.
Meanwhile, the wolf had cornered Adela who was watching from her horse nearby. It leapt at her barking and growling with bared teeth, and she was terrified, thinking that she would be torn apart by the ferocious creature. But Delisle drew his spear and flung it at the wolf, killing it. He then revealed his true identity as John Harrington – Sir Edgar’s long lost son and Adela’s true love. Sir Edgar welcomed back his son and told him that he would have Adela as his bride as he had won her so bravely.
As father and son embraced, the Prior of St Mary passed by to drink at the nearby Holy Well. The monk was asked to marry John and Adela on the spot, to which request he complied and the cave where the wedding took place was known afterwards as Sir Edgar’s Chapel.
The couple lived happily ever after, producing many healthy children, and used the image of the wolf on their crest. They are buried together in a quiet corner of Cartmel Priory, with their effigies cut in stone and a wolf carved at their feet.
In fact, John Harrington is buried in Cartmel Priory, although the name of his wife is Joan. But as a gesture towards the story, the weathervane on top of Cartmel Priory is in the shape of a wolf’s head and it is believed that Humphrey Head was the last place that a wolf was ever seen in England.
According to the astrological chart drawn up by her husband, John Dee, Jane Fromonds was born on Monday, 22nd April, 1555 at noon. She was the daughter of Bartholomew Fromonds of East Cheam and served as a lady-in-waiting to Lady Howard of Effingham, whose husband, Lord Admiral Charles Howard, later commanded the British fleet against the Spanish Armada.
She probably met John Dee at court. He was a widower who had been married twice before and was aged fifty when he married twenty-two year old Jane on 5th February 1578 at one o’clock – although he omitted to record the exact place in his diary.
Jane Dee was the mother of eight children, although not all survived to adulthood. Her first son, Arthur, was born on 13th July 1579. The same night at ten o’clock, records Dee in his diary, Jane’s father was seized with a fit and rendered speechless. He died the following day at four in the morning. It must have been a time of mixed emotions for Jane.
Most of what we know about Jane comes from the entries that John Dee made in his diaries. He recorded household affairs such as money he gave to her to pay wages to their servants, and added anecdotes about their children, such an accident to Arthur when he slipped and fell from the top of the Watergate Stairs at Mortlake and cut his forehead on the right eyebrow, and the time when Jane was so angry with their daughter, Katherine, that she boxed her ears so hard it made her nose bleed. He also recorded more intimate details about her, including her menstrual cycles, their sexual relations and his investigations into a foetus that she miscarried. It is also interesting to note that after the children were born they were sent to live with local wet nurses until they were old enough to be weaned and brought home.
John Dee often recorded that his wife was angry with him, which was perhaps not surprising when you consider that they were forced to leave their home at Mortlake and travel widely across the Continent as he sought patronage for his experimental work into alchemy and the discovery of the philosopher’s stone. Although he was well known at court and acted as an advisor to the queen, he was not a rich man and most of their marriage was beset by money worries. They also seemed to be often at odds over the role of Edward Kelley in their household and there are hints in Dee’s diary including this one from 6th May 1582 when he writes: Jane in a merveylous rage at 8 of the cloke at night, and all that night, and next morning till 8 of the cloke, melancholike and ch[?ided me] terribly for…. Exactly what she chided him for is unclear as the following part is illegible, perhaps erased, but Dee goes on to say that come to me only honest and lerned men, so it could be that she had made her opinion of Kelley well known to her husband.
Kelley remained with the Dees despite Jane’s protests and perhaps the best known incident in her life is the infamous wife-swapping pact. This was, according to Kelley, an instruction from the angels. Dee records in his diary that when he proposed this ‘cross-matching’ to his wife she wept and trembled for a full quarter of an hour before bursting into a fury of anger. He records that he pacified her as well as he could and it seems that she was eventually persuaded to obey him. “I trust,” said she, “that though I give myselfe thus to be used, that God will turn me into a stone before he would suffer me in my obedience to receive any shame or inconvenience.” She would eat neither fish nor flesh, she vowed, until this action, so contrary to the wholesome law of God, and so different from former actions, which had often comforted her; was confirmed.
The pact marked the end of the association between John Dee and Edward Kelley. The Dee’s returned to Mortlake to find that their house, which had been left in the care of Jane’s brother Nicholas, had been ransacked and much of Dee’s vast library was lost. Around nine months later, Jane gave birth to a son, Theodore, who may have been Kelley’s child.
Impoverished and in need of an income, in 1596 John Dee accepted the role of Warden at the Collegiate Church of St Mary in Manchester, now the cathedral. The family lived in what is now the Chetham’s Library. It was here that Jane died in 1605 during a plague epidemic. She was buried on March 23, but has no marked grave.
Some of the children may also have died at this time as only Arthur and Katherine survived their father who died at Mortlake in 1609.
Read Jane’s story in my novel The Merlin’s Wife
Norton Priory is the most excavated monastic site in Europe. Thanks to a grant from the Heritage Lottery Fund, its brand new £4.5m museum tells its 900 year story, displaying hundreds of medieval and later period objects discovered during the extensive archaeological digs.
On Sunday, I visited the new museum at Norton Priory. The transformation from the previous museum, where I did a book signing of The de Lacy Inheritance, is delightful. Everything is now under one roof with a spacious central atrium where you can see the St Christopher statue. There are many more artefacts on display in the new galleries and it’s all updated with interactive touch screens, more information and new signage outside in the ruins to help interpret the site.
I had never heard of Norton Priory until I began my research into the de Lacy family and my original visit was to see the gravesite of Richard de Cestria (Richard FitzEustace in my novel). The Historia Lacieorum records that he was buried in the Chapter House: ‘Iste eciam Rogerus habuit quendam fratrem, Ricardum nomine, cui dedit villam de More; et hic postmodum fuit leprosus, et sepultus est in capitulo canonicorum de Northton.’
My first visit revealed a stone coffin at that site where a skeleton had been exhumed that showed signs of leprosy. It seemed that these remains were those of Richard, who was stored in a box in the archive apart from some finger bones that were on display. But history is rarely that simple, new information often comes to light and the latest work has thrown doubt on the identification. I chatted with Tom Hughes, who was taking guided tours around the site, and he told me that the finger bones that had been identified as showing signs of leprosy did not actually belong to the exhumed skeleton but were from a different female burial. He checked the archaeological records for me and it seems the Chapter House burial dates from the 14th century when the Chapter House was extended. So, probably it isn’t Richard after all. He may be there somewhere, but identification of his remains seems improbable at the moment.
Another burial at Norton that I researched was that of Alice, the first wife of John de Lacy. Again this is recorded in the Historia Lacieorum: “cui successit Johannes de Lacy (primus comes Lin. colniae) filius ejus et hacres, et duxit in uxorem Aliciam ﬁliam Gilberti de Aquila, qua defuncti et sepulta apud Norton.”
Alice’s parents were Gilbert de l’Aigle and Isobel (Warenne/de Lacy). Isobel was the second daughter of Hamelin, Earl of Warenne and sister of William Warenne. Her first marriage was to Robert de Lacy and after his death she married Gilbert. There had been connections between the Warennes and the de Lacys since the Conquest, so a marriage between John de Lacy and Alice de l’Aigle is not unexpected.
I’ve seen 1214 given as a marriage date but haven’t verified it. I’ve also seen 1216 given as a date of death for Alice, but she was certainly dead before 1221 when John de Lacy remarried (Margaret de Quincy). Given that Alice died shortly after her marriage it is possible she died in childbirth. With this in mind I was intrigued by a new facial reconstruction that is on display at Norton of a young woman who was buried there and was pregnant – the remains of the foetus being found in her grave. I asked for more information about her and the site of her grave was in a part of the church used for burials from the 14th century onwards. So it’s unlikely that this is Alice de Lacy. Death in childbirth was all too common at the time and it would not have been an isolated incident.
Another artefact that had previously interested me was an ornate coffin lid that marked the grave of another Alice. New research shows that this was a lady named Alice de Helsby.
Perhaps the most exciting discovery to come out of the new research is the identification of the remains of Geoffrey de Dutton. There has been a facial reconstruction of his skull to show what he may have looked like. It also seems that he came to an untimely end, not dying of natural causes as previously thought, but at the hands of a murdered. There’s more about it here. And there is another link with the de Lacy family. It seems probable that Geoffrey’s wife was a daughter of John de Lacy.
Norton Priory has lots more fascinating stories to tell and the research is ongoing, so new matches of remains with historical people are possible. If you’re in the area do go in and have a look and support their work. I can highly recommend it.
It’s ten years since Champion Lancastrians was published. One of the people I wrote about was Francis Egerton, the third Duke of Bridgewater, and his canal building exploits. I also briefly mentioned James Brindley, who was the engineer who assisted him. This year marks 300 years since the birth of James Brindley so it seems appropriate to say a little more about him.
Brindley was born in 1716 at Tunstead, near Buxton in Derbyshire. In 1733 he was apprenticed to the millwright, Abraham Bennett at Sutton, near Macclesfield, and later founded his own millwright business in Leek. In 1752 he designed and built an engine for draining coalpits at Clifton in Lancashire and in 1755 he built a machine for a silk mill at Congleton in Cheshire.
It was in 1759 that the Duke of Bridgewater commissioned him as an engineer to help build the Bridgewater Canal. Egerton’s idea was to build a canal that would transport coal from his mines at Worsley directly to his customers in Manchester. He planned a canal that would cross the River Irwell with locks on both sides of the river, but Brindley suggested carrying the canal over the river and when it opened in 1761 it included the Barton Aqueduct, the first navigable aqueduct to be built in England. This engineering success brought Brindley more clients. In 1762 Brindley began surveying for his ‘Grand Trunk’ scheme to link the four great rivers of England – the Mersey, Trent, Severn and Thames. In 1766 the Trent and Mersey Canal was authorised by an Act of Parliament and Brindley was appointed as the principal engineer for the project. The first sod was cut by Josiah Wedgwood. Work on the canal included the construction of the 2,633 metre long Harecastle Tunnel, once said to be the longest man-made tunnel on earth.
Although James Brindley was a clever engineer he lacked formal education and in a letter a relative of the Duke wrote that he could not read or write. This became accepted fact over the years. However, four of James Brindley’s notebooks, currently on display at the National Waterways Museum in Ellesmere Port, shed doubt on his illiteracy.
He tended to solve problems in his head and when he was seeking a solution would retire to his bed to think the problem through. He also, famously, took a cheese to a meeting of a parliamentary committee to explain his plans for the Barton Aqueduct. He also invented ‘puddled’ clay to provide the canals with a watertight lining.
His reputation as an engineer led to other projects. He was commissioned to build several canals around the Midlands, including the Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canal. In 1767 Droitwich Council asked Brindley to survey a route from the town to the River Severn and the following year an Act of Parliament authorised the Droitwich Canal Navigation, with Brindley appointed as ‘Inspector of the Works’. In 1768 the Coventry Canal Company was formed and Brindley was commissioned to build the waterway. Also in 1768 an Act of Parliament authorised a canal to be built from Birmingham, through the coalfields of the Black Country, to join up with the Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canal. This was followed by the Oxford Canal and the Chesterfield Canal.
James Brindley was a ‘hands on’ engineer who went out in all weathers to survey the routes of these canals. Whilst working on a new branch of the Trent and Mersey Canal, between Froghall and Leek, he was drenched in a severe storm and contracted pneumonia. He died eleven days later at the age of 56 and is buried at the church of St James in Newchapel, Staffordshire.
He left a widow, Anne Henshall, who he had married in 1765, at the age of almost 50. They had two daughters, Anne and Susannah, and Brindley also had an illegitimate son, John Bennett.
In my new novel, The Merlin’s Wife, I based the manuscript that John Dee is determined to decipher on The Voynich Manuscript. This book is hand written on vellum. It has no title and no author is credited. It contains over 200 pages and is divided into sections, apparently dealing with herbs, astronomy/astrology, biology and medicine. Almost all the pages are illustrated with many detailed drawings of plants, stars and possibly alchemical secrets, but the neat text is in a language that no one understands. It has been described as the most mysterious manuscript in the world.
It was bought by an antique book dealer named Wilfrid Voynich in 1912, although his acquisition of it is clouded in secrecy. Voynich said that it had been found amongst other illustrated manuscripts in a chest in a castle in southern Europe, but a letter written by his widow, Ethel Lilian Voynich, in 1930 mentions that it was once the property of the Vatican.
One clue to its history is a letter discovered inside the book. It is from Georgius Barschius of Prague, to the Jesuit Athanasius Kircher in Rome, telling him that he owned a mysterious book that was written in an unknown script. He hoped that Kircher might be able to translate the book and sent him copies of some of the pages.
The Prague physician and scientist Johannes Marcus Marci was also a correspondent of Kircher and before his death he sent the full manuscript to him, explaining that he had inherited it from a close friend, who had tried to decipher it until the end of his life. He also says that he learned from one ‘Dr. Raphael’ that the manuscript had been bought by Rudolf II of Bohemia (1552-1612) for 600 ducats, and it was believed that it was written by Roger Bacon (the Franciscan friar who lived from 1214 to 1294).
The vellum the manuscript is written on has been carbon dated to the 15th century and so that rules out authorship by Roger Bacon. However, the story that it was once owned by the Emperor Rudolf has given rise to a theory that the manuscript is actually a hoax and that it was written either by John Dee or, more plausibly, by his assistant and medium, Edward Kelley, when they were living in Prague, working on their alchemical experiments.
Kelley is a major suspect, as many regard him as a charlatan who tricked John Dee, Emperor Rudolph and many others with claims of his abilities.
But what if the manuscript is not a hoax? This article from the BBC claims that it could be genuine Mysterious Voynich Manuscript has genuine message
Stephen Bax, whi is a Professor of Modern Languages and Linguistics at the Open University in the UK also thinks he may be able to tease out some meaning. His website has a wealth of information: https://stephenbax.net
Lots of interesting details here too: The Voynich Manuscript
If you would like to see the manuscript there are scanned pages of it at this link: https://www.jasondavies.com/voynich/#f2r/0.588/0.413/1.90
The Voynich Manuscript is preserved as MS 408 in the Beinecke Rare Book and MS Library of Yale University in the USA, where it is described as a Cipher Manuscript: http://brbl-dl.library.yale.edu/vufind/Record/3519597
So, who wrote it? Does it have meaning? Will anyone ever manage to decipher it? These questions still have no clear answer and the meaning of the manuscript remains as elusive as ever. In The Merlin’s Wife, John Dee believes that the manuscript is written in the lost language of Enoch and he and Kelley attempt to solve the riddle through their conversations with the angels. I won’t spoil the story by revealing any more! You’ll have to read the book.
The Merlin’s Wife
“When were you born?” asks Lady Howard.
“Born, my lady?” asks Jane as she comes in with the clean under-linen.
“Yes. What day, and what time?” Lady Howard looks up. “I need to know. Dr Dee has consented to cast our horoscopes.”
Jane feels a flutter of apprehension at the thought of it. Dr Dee is the queen’s astronomer, but she has heard other things about him – that he is a conjuror who practises unnatural magic.
She opens the lid of the coffer to fold away the linen and an aroma of sweet basil rises to tickle the back of her throat. She sneezes discreetly into the sleeve of her gown.
“What day?” insists Lady Howard.
“It was the twenty-second day of April.”
She deducts her age from the present date. “Fifteen fifty-five.”
“And I need to know the hour!” Lady Howard’s pen hovers over the paper spread on her table and the ink begins to pool into a droplet that will surely fall. Jane feels pressured to make an answer before the neat writing is spoiled.
She wrinkles her forehead and gazes at the leaping flames in the grate, as if they will give her an answer. “I think I was born at midday.” She knows it is important to be precise if her horoscope is to be meaningful. And in truth, she would like to know what the future holds.
The next day, as she follows Lady Howard and her two daughters across the courtyard to Dr Dee’s chamber, she looks up at the star that has lately appeared in the skies. It blazes so brightly that it can be seen during the daylight hours. There has been an air of unease around the court since its sudden appearance. After a summer spent at Greenwich to avoid the plague and yet another plot to kill the queen, they are all fearful of what it portends. It defies the accepted knowledge about the heavens, causing everyone to question what they know about God’s creation. The astronomers have always taught that the stars are fixed on the canopy beyond the seven planets. They are not supposed to move from their constellations. But this one has. And some are saying that it is the Star of Bethlehem, come again as a sign of Judgement Day. Jane hopes they are wrong. She is afraid of being judged by God and besides, she would feel cheated if the end of days were to come when her life has barely begun.
A door is opened and a man ushers them into the presence of the magus. Jane feels her heart pounding beneath her laced bodies as Dr Dee gets up from his seat at the large table. He is a tall man, and slender. His long beard is dark and so are his eyes. He wears a black gown and his hair is covered by a close fitting cap. He looks stern, but his face softens into a smile as he greets Lady Howard. Then his gaze turns on Jane as she hesitates in the shadows.
“Jane Fromonds,” says Lady Howard. Jane curtseys on trembling legs as Dr Dee nods then turns his attention back to his principal guest. He bids Lady Howard come closer and pulls out a chair at his table for her to sit down. Her daughters, Margaret and Elizabeth, stand behind her, whispering into their hands and glancing at the great man as if they are afraid he might make them disappear in a waft of smoke.
“Tell us about the star,” says Lady Howard. “What is its meaning?”
“It is a sign of a cosmic re-alignment,” he says as he takes a seat beside her and reaches for his charts. “It will bring changes, but not disasters. It is nothing to be afraid of.”
He seems calm as he explains the birth chart that he has drawn for her, meeting her eyes now and again to be sure that she understands him. Her moon sign is Leo, he explains. It makes her decisive, but she must guard against a tendency to force her will onto others. Her daughters nod their heads. They know their mother.
Jane waits until last, wondering what Dr Dee will say about her. When she is summoned to the table, Dr Dee smiles and invites her to sit down. The chair is still warm from Margaret’s body.
As he reaches for her chart, his trailing sleeve brushes the back of her hand and she feels a jolt surge through her body as if she has touched a hot dish that has lately been taken from the oven. He sets the chart where she can see it and she stares at the symbols and lines that he has drawn. They mean little to her, although she recognises the images of the sun and the moon. He points out the positions of the planets as they were in the sky at her birth. Saturn in Aries; Venus in Pisces. His fingers are long and slender like the rest of him. His nails are trimmed and clean although there are mysterious colours stained onto the skin of his hands.
“Both the sun and moon are in Taurus,” he tells her. “It gives you strength of character.” She agrees. Her father tells her she is stubborn. “But the sun is only just out of Aries. You have a fiery quality too.” She knows that. There are times when she finds it difficult to curb her temper and her mother has warned that she will need a strong husband to rule her. “Jupiter in Scorpio is in retrograde. There will be obstacles to overcome.” His voice has a musical quality that she finds soothing. When she meets his eyes she sees that she is important to him, as if she is the only person in the room. It surprises her. She had not expected to find him so kind. “Mercury in Gemini gives you a quick mind. But you have a tendency to be idealistic.”
She suspects this is also true − especially in the matter of a husband. Several young men have been suggested to her, but she has wrinkled her nose at all of them. He is too short. He has a poor complexion. He is too stupid. Lady Howard has sighed and reminded her that the longer she takes the less choice there will be. But she has determined to wait until the right husband presents himself.
“Can you see my future?” she whispers as she stares at the intricate chart spread across the dark polished wood of the table.
The magus shakes his head. “I can only tell you what your future could be. What it will be depends on what you choose. These planets…” He waves a hand above the chart and Jane feels the flutter of air from his sleeve. “They influence us, but they do not govern us. We have free will, given by God. We must use it wisely.”
“Will I marry?” she asks him.
“Yes. You will marry,” he tells her. “You will marry soon.
When they are settled once again in Lady Howard’s chamber they discuss what Dr Dee has told them. They are excited and they repeat to one another what he said lest they forget the words. Margaret has been told to curb her pride. Elizabeth must rein in her temper. And Jane will marry.
“You must not be so choosy,” says Margaret. “What about Tom Lewis?”
“His bottom is too fat.”
Elizabeth laughs. The fashion for short doublets flatters only those with the most muscular figures. Nothing is left to the imagination, and the ladies like to look and compare.
“What did you think of Dr Dee?” asks Lady Howard. The chamber falls silent as the Howards wait for Jane to reply.
“He was kind,” she says.
“And a widower,” Lady Howard tells her. “He is looking for another wife.”
“She does not want to marry an old man!” protests Margaret.
Her mother frowns at her. “He is not so old and it would be a good match.”
Now Jane knows why Lady Howard included her in the readings. She wants her to be married to the magus.
“Did you like him, Jane?” she asks.
Jane does not reply straight away. Dr Dee was not so frightening as she had imagined, but his nose is overlarge and she would not welcome those stained hands on her body.
“I had thought to marry a younger man,” she says.
“You have refused all the ones I have suggested.”
This is true. She would like to refuse Dr Dee as well, but she owes a debt of gratitude to Lady Howard, who has taken her under her wing and treated her as a daughter and she does not want to appear ungrateful.
Even though it is cold, Jane has agreed to walk in the gardens with the magus. Lady Howard has chosen her gown – a bold green that is cut to reveal the rose-coloured kirtle beneath – although not much of it can be seen now that she has wrapped herself in her dark coat. On her head she wears a little high-brimmed hat with a feather, although she thinks it is too fussy for the magus and that he will want a wife with a linen apron and a plain coif.
He is standing in the doorway that leads to the garden. The leaves are almost gone from the trees. Just a few still hang there, reluctant to relinquish their hold. The ones that have fallen form a damp carpet beneath her boots and, as they walk, the leather darkens with moisture. Above them, the blazing star can still be seen.
“Does it trouble you?” he asks as she looks up.
“I do not understand where it has come from,” she says.
“There are many things in heaven and on earth that we do not understand,” he tells her. “The challenge is to decipher such puzzles.” Jane has heard that deciphering puzzles is something he does well. She has heard that there is no one more skilled than Dr Dee at breaking codes and it is the reason that he is tolerated by the queen’s ministers, who need to read the cryptic messages exchanged by Catholic spies in this country and abroad.
He holds out his arm and she puts her hand on it as he leads her down the steps into the knot garden. Pallid sunshine illuminates a spider’s web in all its detail and they spend a moment studying it, wondering at the skill that has gone into its making.
Jane knows that the magus wants her for his wife, but even though he is pleasant and courteous towards her, his is not the image that she has carried of a husband. He does not dress as the fashionable young men do. His beard is long, his hair is hidden beneath his cap. But his gravitas pleases her more than the flippancy of her other suitors with their overlarge ruffs and slashed sleeves in which they parade before her like peacocks. She finds that she likes him despite her fears.
“Are you cold?” he asks as she pulls her coat more tightly around herself. “Perhaps we should go inside.”
“Not yet,” she says. She feels safer in the garden. “It is so dismal indoors at this time of the year.”
“I have a house at Mortlake, overlooking the church,” he tells her as they resume their walk. “I have a library there, with many books. Perhaps you would like to see it when the court returns to the city, if books interest you.”
Books do interest Jane. She can read and she enjoys stories – in particular the legends of long-gone heroes like King Arthur Pendragon. She would be happy to marry a man like Arthur. Instead it seems that she is to be wife to the merlin.
“Yes,” she agrees. “I would like to see your library.”
Dr Dee sends a man to escort her. His name is Bartholomew Hickman. He brings a bay gelding that she is to ride whilst he walks beside her. He helps her into the saddle and keeps a hand on the rein as they go, as if she is a child. She finds it irritating. Her mood has not been good for days and she knows that it is caused by her uncertainty. Lady Howard has nagged her for a firm answer, her father has written to say that it would be a good match, but Jane cannot commit herself. She cannot dismiss the rumours that Dr Dee uses unnatural magic although she can find no evidence that he is a bad man. Besides, she worries that as soon as she marries him someone else will come along whom she could truly love. Lady Howard has accused her of talking nonsense and become impatient. Jane has been told that after her visit to the house at Mortlake she must make her decision.
The magus is waiting for her at the gate to his garden. He smiles and reaches up his arms to lift her down. His touch is firm and she puts her gloved hand on his arm as he walks her to his door, past the well-trimmed hedges of box and the herbs in the knot garden that are dying back with the frosts.
“Welcome,” he says and ushers her inside. It is an ancient house. The main hall has a beaten earth floor beneath the thresh and the roof is shaped as if there was once a central hearth. He leads her through another door that must have once opened into the pantry or buttery. She sees that building work has been done and what lies behind the frontage is newer. They cross a courtyard where a few stray chickens are pecking at some spilled grain and he opens the door of an adjacent building. “Here is my library,” he says.
Several pairs of eyes glance up before the boys return to the texts that they are studying at the oak desks. There is the scratching of a pen as one student resumes his copying. The walls are lined with shelves and Jane has never seen so many books in one place. She looks at the titles. They are on every subject from astrology to zoology. Dr Dee takes down a volume and opens it for her. It is about botany and the drawings of the plants are so exquisite that Jane wants to put her nose to the pages to see if she can smell them.
“This is my reading room,” he tells her, leading her through another door. “And over here is the globe that was given to me by Gerard Mercator.” Jane walks over to the sphere, cradled in a wooden stand, and peers at the images of all the countries on the earth. She finds it hard to imagine that the ground where she is standing is on a ball that hangs in space like the moon she sees in the sky. What holds it there, she wonders. “Here is England,” says Dr Dee. He points to a tiny island and Jane is surprised that it looks so small.
“Where is the New World?” she asks. Dr Dee points to a much larger mass of land on the far side an ocean. Jane can hardly believe that men have sailed their ships so far.
“And here,” he says, pointing to a place near the top of the globe, “is where I believe there is a passage that will allow ships to sail to China and the east.
“Yet, if that is true, they will be sailing west,” she observes.
Dr Dee nods. “If you sail in either direction you will arrive back where you began,” he says, “as the Spanish have proved.”
“If I began to walk,” says Jane, “and I walked on and on, would I arrive back here?”
“If you could find a way to cross the oceans.” He smiles. “And you would need these.” He shows her a quadrant, a cross-staff and a sea compass. “And this…” He smiles as he lifts a metal tube from its quilted box. “Look through it,” he tells her and Jane takes its weight in both her hands and raises the end to her eye.
“Oh!” She cries out in alarm as the books on the shelves at the far side of the room seem to fly towards her. She can read the lettering on their spines and she lowers the instrument to see if some trick has been played on her. But nothing has moved.
“Look through the window,” says the magus. Delighted with her incredulity he unlatches it and draws her towards the sill. She puts the glass to her eye again and sees the chickens as if she could reach out and touch each feather on their plump backs. He takes the glass from her and explains that the curved lenses can magnify the light’s rays so that objects appear to increase in size. It seems like magic, she thinks, and although it has a logical explanation it is one that she is struggling to comprehend.
He shows her more of the treasures he has collected on his travels and a mirror that appears to distort her reflection so that she seems to be standing beside her own twin. Then he takes her into another chamber where several stills are bubbling. It smells bad and there is a bucket of horse dung in the corner. It is essential to experiments in alchemy he tells her.
They pass a double door that is closed. He tells her that it is his private study and chapel. She wonders if she will be allowed in there when she is his wife. The thought takes her by surprise. At what moment, she wonders, did she decide that she would marry him?
“Well?” demands Lady Howard as soon as she returns. Jane has not had time to take off her coat and hat, so she does so slowly, forcing her mistress to wait for an answer. “I hope you agreed,” she adds, watching from her cushioned bench beside the hearth.
Jane runs the fronds of the soft feather through her fingers. “I agreed,” she says. She notices that the feather is trembling as she continues to hold the hat. She is reluctant to put it down, as if doing so will sever the last connection with the girl who rode to Mortlake unbetrothed. Has she made the right decision? She hopes she will not regret it.
“Her Majesty will be pleased!” beams Lady Howard.
Jane is astonished. She had no clue that the queen herself had expressed any interest. But she ought not to be surprised, she thinks. Her Majesty, who will make no choice concerning a marriage of her own, is always interested in the marital status of her courtiers. It troubles her to see a man unwed and she is fond of Dr Dee.