itself.”
Chapter Eight
O N THE APPOINTED day we closed up the house, sent away the servants, and rode in the coach, miles and miles and horrific bumping miles through Spain. Days it took us. There were problems with axles and horses. The windows were too small to see much of the passing scenery, which was a comfort to me when we passed into Galicia, because I feared I might feel a pulling, a homesickness or something, and I was now determined to be the most dependable operative the Company ever had. But what little I could see of Galicia looked pretty much like everywhere else. Mostly it just jolted and danced beyond the wooden frame of the window.
And we came to La Coruña on the seacoast, and it stank.
It stank of the lives of mortal men, but also of the deaths of fish, and of rotting, leaking little ships. The crowded stone town was filled, it was true, with sunlight and air, and a brisk breeze snapped the banners in the rigging of the ships, and there were big joyful clouds white as snow in the blue sky. But the town still reeked.
I crawled out of the coach, took one look at the little ships, and yelled in horror.
“We have to go all the way to England in one of those ?” I gasped. Joseph put his face close to mine.
“Daughter,” he said quietly. “Dear. When we board our particular ship, you will notice immediately a number of alarming structural flaws. Do not, I implore you, broadcast this fact to your fellow passengers, the ship’s crew, or anyone else you can think of, because if you do, you will be sent directly to the Convent of No Return. Your affectionate father is quite serious. For your spiritual comfort, I can tell you that it is a matter of historical record that the good ship Virgin Mary will not sink until the year of Our Lord fifteen hundred and fifty-nine, when neither you nor any of our party will be aboard. Therefore, my child, a silent and discreet botanist has the best chance of not being throttled on her way to the lamentably heretic island of England.”
“Okay, okay,” I muttered.
“I came over in a galley my first time,” remarked Flavius. “What a panic.”
“Cheer up,” Eva told me. “Look at all the courtiers! Look at all the clothes!”
Look at all the clothes indeed. The cream of the Prince’s court was walking all around us, and it was as if all the cloth merchants of Cathay, Antwerp, and Italy were having a trade war in the streets. All the jewelers, too. Such gold tissue, such brocade and velvet, trimmed silk, figured satin! Such colors! Orange-tawney and sangyn. Primrose. Willow. Peach. Gingerline. Popinjay. Slashes, sashes, and dashes. Peasecods and pansied slops. Picardiles and epaulets. Shoe roses. These were the bright young things, the new generation, not the gloomy old intriguers of the Emperor’s court.
There were courtiers walking their little dogs. Courtiers gossiping and sniffing at pomanders. Courtiers in tight silk hose showing off their calves to very attentive sailors. Courtiers directing the loading of their baggage, with screams of alarm for their sweet wines, their sugared comfits, their gold plate. A pair of them, male and female, paraded by in complimenting shades of emerald sewn with pearls.
“I want their clothes,” I moaned under my breath.
“I do too,” Eva moaned back.
“You don’t really. Can you imagine the body lice?” observed Nefer. We glared at her.
Joseph ignored us all and scanned the harbor for our ship. Given the absolute forest of masts and rigging, and the fact that the Virgin Mary turned out to be a popular name for ships that year, he was not having an easy time of it. We stood there, clustered protectively around our crates of disguised field gear, and the absurd mortal carnival flowed by on all sides. Just as Joseph thought he had located our particular Virgin Mary among the rest, there was a blare of trumpets. All heads turned.
Shouting. People scrambling back.
Make way! Make way for His Royal Highness, the
Chapter Eight
O N THE APPOINTED day we closed up the house, sent away the servants, and rode in the coach, miles and miles and horrific bumping miles through Spain. Days it took us. There were problems with axles and horses. The windows were too small to see much of the passing scenery, which was a comfort to me when we passed into Galicia, because I feared I might feel a pulling, a homesickness or something, and I was now determined to be the most dependable operative the Company ever had. But what little I could see of Galicia looked pretty much like everywhere else. Mostly it just jolted and danced beyond the wooden frame of the window.
And we came to La Coruña on the seacoast, and it stank.
It stank of the lives of mortal men, but also of the deaths of fish, and of rotting, leaking little ships. The crowded stone town was filled, it was true, with sunlight and air, and a brisk breeze snapped the banners in the rigging of the ships, and there were big joyful clouds white as snow in the blue sky. But the town still reeked.
I crawled out of the coach, took one look at the little ships, and yelled in horror.
“We have to go all the way to England in one of those ?” I gasped. Joseph put his face close to mine.
“Daughter,” he said quietly. “Dear. When we board our particular ship, you will notice immediately a number of alarming structural flaws. Do not, I implore you, broadcast this fact to your fellow passengers, the ship’s crew, or anyone else you can think of, because if you do, you will be sent directly to the Convent of No Return. Your affectionate father is quite serious. For your spiritual comfort, I can tell you that it is a matter of historical record that the good ship Virgin Mary will not sink until the year of Our Lord fifteen hundred and fifty-nine, when neither you nor any of our party will be aboard. Therefore, my child, a silent and discreet botanist has the best chance of not being throttled on her way to the lamentably heretic island of England.”
“Okay, okay,” I muttered.
“I came over in a galley my first time,” remarked Flavius. “What a panic.”
“Cheer up,” Eva told me. “Look at all the courtiers! Look at all the clothes!”
Look at all the clothes indeed. The cream of the Prince’s court was walking all around us, and it was as if all the cloth merchants of Cathay, Antwerp, and Italy were having a trade war in the streets. All the jewelers, too. Such gold tissue, such brocade and velvet, trimmed silk, figured satin! Such colors! Orange-tawney and sangyn. Primrose. Willow. Peach. Gingerline. Popinjay. Slashes, sashes, and dashes. Peasecods and pansied slops. Picardiles and epaulets. Shoe roses. These were the bright young things, the new generation, not the gloomy old intriguers of the Emperor’s court.
There were courtiers walking their little dogs. Courtiers gossiping and sniffing at pomanders. Courtiers in tight silk hose showing off their calves to very attentive sailors. Courtiers directing the loading of their baggage, with screams of alarm for their sweet wines, their sugared comfits, their gold plate. A pair of them, male and female, paraded by in complimenting shades of emerald sewn with pearls.
“I want their clothes,” I moaned under my breath.
“I do too,” Eva moaned back.
“You don’t really. Can you imagine the body lice?” observed Nefer. We glared at her.
Joseph ignored us all and scanned the harbor for our ship. Given the absolute forest of masts and rigging, and the fact that the Virgin Mary turned out to be a popular name for ships that year, he was not having an easy time of it. We stood there, clustered protectively around our crates of disguised field gear, and the absurd mortal carnival flowed by on all sides. Just as Joseph thought he had located our particular Virgin Mary among the rest, there was a blare of trumpets. All heads turned.
Shouting. People scrambling back.
Make way! Make way for His Royal Highness, the
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