Historical Short Story: Map Of The Heart

HISTORICAL SHORT STORY BY BECCA ROBIN

In this story, set in the 1570s, What secrets would Gideon learn as he surveyed the land?

The servant guided Gideon along the passageway and into the Great Hall.

Due to bad weather, Gideon was arriving later than expected and at a most unsociable hour.

This fact was emphasised by the sight of Sir Walter Fennell, owner of Hemston Hall, sitting alone beside the remnants of a fire.

Sir Walter’s aged hound raised his head and appraised the stranger with a forlorn expression.

“Gideon Ash, at your service. I believe my master sent word I’d arrive today.”

“Step closer,” the old man ordered him. “You are wet.

“William, take his outer garments to the kitchen.”

Gideon handed his hat and cloak, made heavy by rain, to the servant, who disappeared.

“The making of maps is a skilled business, is it not?” Sir Walter asked.

“I’ve served my apprenticeship, sir.” Gideon was painfully aware that
he looked younger than his twenty-three years.

Sir Walter pulled a letter from his waistcoat.

“According to your master, the Lord Chamberlain himself demands I give you board and lodging while you make your surveys. Do you have much work to do?”

Mapping all the features in the landscape takes time.

Gideon’s work would add to surveys going on all over the country, leading to the most ambitious and accurate atlas of England ever attempted.

“I daresay you will not find the comforts here that you are used to,” Sir Walter continued.

“At one time I kept a fine establishment.

“Now, my daughter, Mistress Anne, and I live here alone, with few servants.”

Gideon knew why the once great family’s wealth had dwindled.

For the sake of his Catholic faith, Sir Walter had forfeited any hope of preferment at the court of Queen Elizabeth.

He was about to state that he was sure of finding every comfort at Hemston, when Sir Walter cut him off.

“’Tis late, indeed. William will show you to your chamber.”

Gideon would sooner have breakfasted in the kitchen, but was summoned to the Great Hall the next morning, where a meagre spread of bread, cheese and small ale had been laid at one end of the long table.

This was his first sight of Mistress Anne, who had inherited her late mother’s deep blue eyes, judging by the portrait of Lady Fennell hanging by the window.

Unfortunately they stared in a hostile fashion, which brought colour to his cheeks.

Gideon explained where he was going that day.

There followed a painful silence in which he ranged about for some new topic of conversation.

“I am sorry a member of your household is so ill,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Sir Walter snapped.

“I was woken in the night by a tremendous coughing and heard footsteps hastening along a corridor. I hoped there was nothing seriously wrong.”

A look of concern passed between father and daughter.

“He’s one of the servants.” Anne spoke for the first time. “Don’t let it concern you. He’s being well looked after but must keep to his room.

“Do you know when you’ll be leaving, Master Ash?”

Gideon repeated what he’d said the previous evening, about his task taking time.

He left the table as soon as it was polite to do so.

It was terrible, feeling so unwelcome, but at least the rain had stopped.

It was a fine day, and he stayed out for much of it, surveying in an arc of three miles to the north-east on foot.

He calculated the angles and distances between the road, river valley and other features.

He stopped twice at the same inn to sup, sooner than impose further upon Sir Walter’s forced generosity.

Returning to Hemston in the late afternoon, he thought to slip in by the back door so as not to disturb anyone.

Making his way through an arch in the side wall, he was surprised to see Anne in the garden with a basket of vegetables at her feet.

When she heard him, she immediately stopped hoeing and stared.

Mumbling his apologies, Gideon hurried past.

It could scarcely have been more embarrassing. The idea of a baronet’s daughter tilling the ground like a common servant!

Afraid of having given offence, Gideon kept to his chamber all evening.

Despite his tiredness, he found it hard to sleep.

From somewhere in the building the coughing began again.

It seemed even worse than the night before.

When he heard footsteps, he rose from bed and went to his window.

A candle’s flame was proceeding along the corridor of the other wing of the house, at right angles to his own.

When the light disappeared, it suggested the bearer had entered a room.

On his way to breakfast, Gideon ran into William and asked if he’d been woken in the night.

“No, sir. I was dead to the world,” the servant replied.

“But surely there was much activity in the house,” Gideon pressed, noticing how William was avoiding eye contact.

“Us servants wouldn’t know about that. The three of us sleep up the back stairs, over the kitchen.”

Gideon didn’t ask more.

He assumed the servants were William, the stable boy and the cook, and all seemed in good health.

Who was the mysterious servant being cared for in one of the principal bedchambers?

Sir Walter was late rising, and Gideon was in the uncomfortable position of having to breakfast alone with Anne.

He thought it best not to mention the disturbance.

The conversation ran as awkwardly as it had the day before, until she skewered him with her blue eyes.

“What are you really doing here, Master Ash?”

“Surveying for the new atlas.”

“We keep ourselves to ourselves here. We pose no threat. I solemnly promise we are the Queen’s loyal subjects.”

It was clear she didn’t believe him.

“Furthermore, Master Ash, I don’t want my dear father disturbed at his time of life. He deserves some peace.”

“Of course.”

For the first time, Gideon saw through a chink in the young woman’s heavy armour and realised it was hiding a deep anxiety.

“You wouldn’t mind my accompanying you today? I’m interested in seeing the type of work you do.”

“You’re welcome to,” Gideon replied.

If this was the only way of persuading her that he was telling the truth, he didn’t mind at all.

Gideon had planned to concentrate on a smaller arc of land to the east that day.

It had a greater number of features, including the ruined monastery they were heading for first.

As the pair strode through fields wet with dew, Gideon felt on safe ground describing the process he used to determine the distance between known and unknown points by calculating angles.

At last he had something he could talk about at length.

It became apparent just how clever and quick-witted Anne was.

As soon as Gideon reassured her that his mission was genuine, she began to relax and immersed herself in the activity of plotting points.

She asked questions and took an obvious delight in increasing her knowledge.

Anne had brought bread, meat, salad and some small ale, and they sat to eat lunch beneath an oak tree.

Gideon was getting used to her directness and liked her willingness to engage with practical tasks.

To his surprise, he was warming to Anne. The light in her eyes when she smiled led him to believe she was warming to him, too.

“I trust you’re enjoying the lettuce.” She studied him. “Grown by my own hand. But you know that.”

“A delicacy, indeed.”

She became more serious.

With little in the family purse, I do what I can to keep us all fed.

“’Tis most commendable,” Gideon said. “Worth more than idle pursuits, if I may be so bold.”

“I enjoyed embroidery in the old days,” Anne said with a far-off smile. “My mother taught me. Her fingers were so graceful and nimble at work.

“I still keep my silks and fabrics in a drawer but have little time for them now.”

They had spent such a pleasant day together, Gideon was sorry when it was time to return home.

He was pleased when Anne asked if she could help him again, perhaps later that week.

They parted at the foot of the staircase.

Anne hastened to the kitchen to assist with the evening meal, and Gideon was glad she didn’t feel the need to cover up the fact.

He only wished he had some means of helping the household, too.

He was about to proceed along the corridor leading to his chamber when a noise made him freeze.

From beyond where the corridor turned, he could hear groaning.

Curious, he followed the sound until he came to a door.

It was where he judged the candle had disappeared the night before.

Putting his ear to the wood, he could hear a rasping breath and moans as though someone were in pain.

“That chamber is empty. We keep it locked.”

Gideon spun around to find Anne, her eyes wide with terror, although she was clearly trying hard not to show it in her voice.

“Master Ash, please step away from the door.”

“But surely you are mistaken. It sounds as though some poor soul is in great distress herein.”

“I will prove it is empty.”

Selecting a key from the bunch hanging from her kirtle, Anne inserted it carefully in the lock.

Slowly, she opened the door, seeming to check inside before letting him in.

The chamber was empty, although the bedclothes seemed disturbed.

“You see?”

But even as she said it, there came a burst of coughing that seemed muffled by the wall.

There followed a heavy thump, which shook the panelling as though something had fallen against it.

Anne cried out, looking terribly distressed.

“Please, whatever this is, you can trust me,” Gideon urged.

With a pained expression, she pressed a panel, releasing a square section at the foot of the wall, which she slid sideways.

At the bottom of a steep staircase, an old man lay in clear distress.

Gideon helped Anne get him out of the tiny space and lift him on to the bed.

“Now you know,” she muttered as she tended the sick man. “I need scarce tell you the danger we’d be in were it to be known we are harbouring a priest.

“Even if Father John is so ill, it is hard to keep him hidden.”

Gideon had heard of secret holes being used to conceal the Catholic priests whom Elizabeth had banished from the land.

He knew of families who had been grievously punished for hiding them.

Now he could appreciate why his own arrival at Hemston had been so unwelcome.

By the time Anne had finished, the invalid seemed to be resting more easily.

Locking the door on their way out, Anne explained that should soldiers turn up to search the house, finding the key would buy them time while Father John concealed himself.

Over the next week, Anne and Gideon’s friendship blossomed.

Not only was she able to assist him in his work, he spent the time saved helping her in the garden.

Sir Walter seemed to be growing to like him, and he was pleased to hear Father John’s health was improving.

The days drifted pleasantly by until one afternoon when a letter arrived for Gideon.

His master, Ralph Savory, was summoning him to a meeting on Tuesday evening at a tavern in town.

Oddly, Master Savory would not be present.

He exhorted Gideon to assist, as far as possible, an important personage who for now would remain nameless.

The White Hart was a dingy, dismal establishment.

The following Tuesday, Gideon was shown into a low-ceilinged side room where a fire was smoking in the hearth.

His stomach tightened as he recognised a figure, clad in black, even before the man’s heavy-lidded gaze turned upon him.

That one time he’d attended court, Sir Francis Walsingham had been pointed out.

Elizabeth’s principal secretary and chief spymaster spent much of his time attempting to uncover plots against the Queen.

“Do you know who I am?” His voice was soft yet seemed to fill the room.

“Yes, Sir Francis.” Gideon did his best to conceal the tremor in his own.

“What progress have you made in your task?” he asked.

“Good progress.”

“The Queen has requested for your master to attend her at court and present the work undertaken on the atlas so far.”

He paused and Gideon nodded, although he could not believe this was all Walsingham had to say.

“I understand you base yourself at Hemston, Master Ash. Have you noticed anything unusual there?”

“No, sir. Nothing.”

Walsingham stepped forward to within a foot of where Gideon stood and peered into his eyes without blinking, as though hunting high and low around his soul for secrets.

A young man such as yourself will go far with the right patron

Walsingham said. “I could be your patron, Master Ash, and provide for your advancement at court.

“In return, you must do something for me. Keep your eyes and ears open. If you notice anything odd in the place where you’re staying, report it to me.”

The heavy-lidded eyes ranged over his face a moment more.

“Come to court with your master. Tell me what you’ve discovered.”

The next morning, when Gideon found her in the garden, Anne’s face fall as he gave her the news.

“What can I do?” she asked. “Father John is too ill to be moved, even if we had a safe place to send him. If he’s found here, we are all condemned.

“We are of no threat to the Queen, yet Walsingham suspects us.”

Gideon took her hands and spoke earnestly.

“That man trusts me. By the time our interview was over, he seemed persuaded I would do his bidding, for my own advancement.

“On the way home last night, I thought of what you might do, with the skill you undoubtedly possess, to persuade the Queen of your loyalty. Something I am sure she’ll be unable to resist.”

The next three weeks were a time of great activity at the hall.

Anne could no longer help Gideon, as she had her own special task on hand.

When it came time for him to make the lengthy ride to Richmond Palace, a precious article wrapped in paper was stored beneath his doublet, next to his heart.

Before his departure, Gideon took Anne’s hands and kissed the graceful, nimble fingers she had inherited from her mother.

There followed an even sweeter kiss upon her lips.

“Fear not. All will be well,” he said.

“God speed, my love,” she replied.

Gideon arrived in the hall of Richmond Palace minutes before the Queen was due to enter.

He noted the displeasure on Walsingham’s face. The spymaster had doubtless been hoping to speak with him before the event.

Elizabeth entered with her ladies-in-waiting, dressed in a sumptuous blue-and-gold gown, pearls adorning the ruff about her throat.

The parts of the atlas already complete were on display upon a central table.

The Queen pored over them, asking questions of Master Savory, clearly in a good humour.

“Of course, I could not complete this great task alone,” Gideon’s master said. “May I introduce Master Ash, one of my assistants.”

Gideon’s heart was hammering in the Queen’s presence, all the more for what he was about to do.

“Your Majesty, Hemston Hall lies at the heart of my map.” He piped up. “’Tis where I currently reside.”

“Indeed, Master Ash,” Elizabeth said in surprise.

Walsingham was already whispering in her ear, but Gideon was determined to say what he’d come to say.

“I have brought a gift from Hemston, from your humble and most loyal servant, Mistress Anne Fennell.”

The Queen’s gaze fell upon the rolled-up paper bundle in his hands.

She raised her hand to silence Walsingham.

Placing the bundle on the table, Gideon unfolded it and smoothed out the costly panel of ivory silk, cut as for a section of bodice and embroidered delicately all over with the details found on his map.

Brightly coloured silken threads picked out the roads, rivers, hills and dales, villages and ruins, as well as the hall itself.

The Queen seemed entranced.

“Mistress Anne requests she may be allowed to continue this task and embroider an entire gown for Your Majesty.

“An atlas of your realm that you may also wear.”

“She is Sir Walter Fennell’s daughter,” Walsingham protested openly. “A family we have discussed.”

“This request is acceptable to me,” Elizabeth shot back. “It points to a loyal subject who wants to honour her Queen.

“On this occasion, Sir Francis, you may keep your counsel. I thank you for bringing me this gift, Master Ash. Tell Mistress Fennell I am pleased to grant her request.