Alchemy by Maureen Duffy Page A

and cry after it. A young boy was nimblest and at last contrived to throw himself upon the piglet and pin it to the ground and was given a groat forhis pains. Away from the market, and in the din of birds clucking in their baskets, wheels over cobbles and the bawling of the hucksters I mounted again and turned right through Green Croft, past the Pheasant and up towards our house beside St Edmund’s church where I had lived in what seemed a whole life ago. Now the house must be another’s. I stared at its dark windows and felt in a sudden rush the loss of my father as I had not done before then, so that tears came into my eyes. I had not wept till now.
    As I sat there on the patient animal whose flanks were wreathed in the mist of its own breath in the frosty air, a door was opened to the house of our former neighbour, Dame Milburn.
    ‘Why is that you Master Boston? I came out to see who had stopped at our door on such a fine horse. I am glad to see you for I have a packet that was come for your father and I not knowing where to send have kept it these three months.’ And she was gone back into the house before I could speak but soon to return with what I perceived from the shape must be a book. I got down from the horse to take it from her.
    ‘Why,’ she began again, ‘how you have grown and in such fine clothes too. Where may I find you if another such should come?’
    ‘I am in the Countess of Pembroke’s service and go with her wherever she goes to any of her houses but you may send for me at the great house at Wilton for her people there will know where she lies.’
    ‘And what news of your sister? Is she not married?’
    ‘She goes where I go, and is not yet married nor like to be. I thank you for this. I shall go into the church and say a prayer for my father.’
    ‘He was always a kind man to me and gave me physick freely whenever I was sick.’
    ‘And you would give us some of your baking in return.’
    ‘You shall have some now, Master Boston, for your father’ssake. I was all day baking yesterday against Christmas when my daughter will come visiting with her husband and little ones. But there is enough and to spare.’ And she was gone back into the house to return a moment later with an apple turnover in a napkin which she pressed upon me.
    ‘Thank you mistress. I will eat it on my journey back to Wilton.’
    I tethered my horse to the lychgate of St Edmund’s and went inside. I knelt above where I knew my father lay in the side aisle. Yet I could neither feel his presence nor find words to pray. Instead I vowed that one day he should have a monument upon the wall close by that all should know a great physician lay there who might have found out all the secrets of the world, one who was not proud but healed the poor and sick, that would not become a great lady’s lapdog. Then I began to question myself that I should be her amusement and be played with for her sport. But I was like a linnet straining at a silken leash who fears lest she indeed break it and be let fly away into hunger and dark.
    Soon I too grew cold and got to my feet again. It was as if a portcullis had come down between me and my old life so that I could only look through the bars but not touch what lay beyond. And how would it be if the gate were drawn up and I were thrust out, with the gate fallen to behind me and no way back? How could I enter again that former world?
    When I got back to Wilton it was nearly dark, the day being so short. ‘My lady is calling for you,’ the secretary said in a great fluster and wringing of hands. ‘You must go to her at once in her chamber.’
    ‘May I not shift my clothes a little?’ for they were greasy and stained from riding.
    ‘No you must come at once.’
    So I entered where my lady was pacing the floor and fell on my knee before her.
    ‘Where have you been? How dare you be absent when I need you.’
    ‘Madam I went to visit my old home and pray in the church where my father