Paula Marshall

The Astrologer's Daughter


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that she blushed, and said, ‘Kit, my friend, thou hast a fair maid on thine arm. Pray introduce her to us. I would not have a fair face pass me by.’

      Kit bowed, but not low, Celia saw, and replied, ‘Sire, this is Mistress Antiquis, who is the daughter and assistant of one Adam Antiquis, an astrologer who hath come to Court today to bring George Buckingham some horaries and elections which he hath caused to be cast.’

      ‘The astrologer’s daughter and his assistant! That is a rare thing. I must tell my Queen of this. Charles,’ he commanded to a pleasant-faced young man who stood by him, ‘run, tell my wife I have a rare thing for her to know of and I would have her by me when she is made aware of it.’

      Sir Charles Sedley bowed in his turn and made for the glass doors to carry out his master’s bidding. The King’s attention was now on Adam and the Duke whom he commanded to present Celia’s father to him. At last, after some fair words to the even more bedazzled Adam, he said, ‘And you made thy daughter thy assistant, Master Antiquis. Pray why, if a mere monarch may enquire?’

      ‘Why, Your Majesty, as to that—’ Adam almost babbled, his usual stern composure almost melted by the rays of the imperial sun before him ‘—I had no son and an apprentice whom I took proving unwilling and slow, and she showing a turn for the mathematics and philosophy most unusual in a woman—and one so young as she then was—I thought to train her, almost in jest at first. Now the young pupil hath come close to equalling the master, as you may see by examining the work which she hath done for the Duke’s grace.’

      Bedazzled he might well be at such attention, thought Celia, watching him, for the King had kept light hold of Kit’s arm as he spoke and her promised walk had been halted.

      ‘A prodigy, then,’ drawled the King, his dark eyes full on Celia, ‘and a prodigy to be rewarded. No, no,’ he said, waving away the parchments which Adam profferred him as proof of Celia’s excellence. ‘I take thy word, man. What, would thou deceive thy King? I think not; thy stars would tell thee otherwise!’

      Everyone around them laughed at the King’s small joke. Celia was fast recovering her wits and was already observing that the courtiers hung on their master’s every word, rewarding him as frequently as they could for every imagined witticism or piece of wisdom offered. Only Sir Kit, at her side, refrained from doing so, even as he spoke to the Duke on terms of equality when she had already noticed that many splendid figures had been servile to him. Sir Kit was his own man, she concluded, and that pleased her. Why it did, she knew not.

      Further talk was ended by the Queen’s entrance, surrounded by her maids of honour, each one of whom outshone her in comeliness. The queen was not plain, but neither was she beautiful, and she appeared drab by comparison with them all—particularly the beauty who had been caressing Kit.

      ‘My heart,’ exclaimed the King, advancing on her to take her by the hand to lead her to where Celia and Adam were standing. ‘Here is one Master Antiquis, an astrologer, and if you should ask why I command you to take particular note of him, it is because of his wondrous fair daughter, who stands by Kit, here. She is his assistant, he saith, and is as learned as he. Now, you were lamenting yester eve that you had none to advise you when you needed advice, and, seeing this fair maiden so learned and so young, it seemed to me that it might be fitting for you to have an adviser, here at Court. And what better than a female astrologer to cast thy horaries and elections?’

      The Queen smiled kindly at Celia. ‘My lord,’ she said in her lightly accented voice—her native country was Portugal, ‘a kind thought. I welcome it. But what of her father? Does Master Antiquis wish to lose his assistant?’

      To be the Queen’s astrologer! To be at Court! So much was happening to her, so fast. The trembling hand on Kit’s sleeve was the only outward evidence of Celia’s inward agitation. Did she really want this thing? To be part of a court notorious for its lack of morals? How would she, a humble citizen’s daughter, fare in such a place? Could she even learn to conduct herself properly? And what was proper here?

      Yet a further thought struck her as the Queen spoke kindly to her father, and it made her hand tremble even more. If she came to Court, why then, why then, she would meet him, the man standing beside her, who, when he felt her hand quiver, had put his own large and strong one over it briefly, to reassure her. What a fine thing it would be to meet him every day to hear him singing in that voice which might draw the heart from one’s breast, as it had drawn hers when he had visited them!

      The hand which had briefly comforted hers—and how had he known that she might need comfort?—had had the same effect on her as it had had earlier. This time she could not stop the trance from consuming her. King and Court disappeared. She was in the dark, on her knees, staring at her hand in the dim light of a lantern. There was blood on it.

      The vision was gone but Kit had felt her stiffen, had bent his head to look at her, and for a moment saw again the blind eyes she had turned on him in her own parlour. If it were a trick it was an odd one, for she drew no one’s attention to it.

      ‘Mistress Celia,’ he said quietly, so that none but she might hear his words. ‘Be not affrighted. The King means you no harm. Indeed, he seeks to do thee honour.’

      ‘My father may not wish…’ Celia began falteringly.

      Kit’s smile was humourless. ‘Why, as to that, he will not decline such an honour for you, I am sure. He does but seek to discover on what terms the honour is made.’

      ‘He should ask me first whether I wish to accept such an honour.’

      Kit’s lips twitched. Such an independent maiden for all her gentle quietude. Most would have curtsied and said modestly, As my father wills. But not the astrologer’s daughter.

      ‘You do not want the honour, mistress?’

      ‘I am a little afeared of it, Sir Christopher.’

      ‘Nay fear not. None will hurt thee. I will see to that.’ And his hand covered hers again.

      The King and Queen had finished their speech with Adam. ‘Bring the lady to us,’ Charles ordered and, when Kit had complied, the King said to Celia, ‘Good Mistress Celia, thy father hath agreed that when the court is in London you should take lodgings here in Whitehall with us, to advise the Queen on matters astrological. When the court moves to the country thou shalt return to thy father’s house, for he would not lose thee altogether, nor would I reft you from him. The Queen must manage as best she can, but country matters will not be so pressing as to demand thy services. Is not that so, madam?’

      The Queen agreed with him, said in her gentle voice, ‘Now, as to thy recompense, mistress, and thy lodgings, that shall be determined before you come to us, and thy father hath agreed a week’s term for you to prepare yourself before you take up thy new position. This pleases you?’

      She could not say nay to any of them, even if they had all determined matters without her. That did not please her, but she could not say so. She knew quite clearly, without the stars’ help, that she would be happy to come to Court even if only to see Sir Kit again, to have his beautiful green eyes on her, perhaps to have his sensitive musician’s hand cover hers again.

      Celia made a great curtsy to them both and gave her assent. She had loosed her hand from Kit’s arm so that he stood back.

      The King would have none of that. ‘Why, all’s settled, then, and Kit, do not retire. I would have thee sing for us. Mistress Celia shall hear you, and learn that to work in the court of the King has its rewards as well as its pains.’

      And so it was done. She was to go to Court, and her even life set in its pleasant quiet ways, would be no more. Time and chance had worked its will on her and Adam’s horoscope, which had told of momentous things coming from this visit, had been a true one.

      Listening to Kit sing, watching the King’s face, sad amid the trappings of his office, she only knew one thing—that Celia Antiquis might be lodged in a strange place, but she would be plain Celia Antiquis still. None would cozen her, nor cheat her; she would hold true to the stars which governed her, even if the