20

22nd August 1580

Bread and meats for the midwife three shillings and tuppence Wines and meats for the gossips three pounds and sixteen shillings

Accounts of Banstock Manor, 1576–1582

Life at the manor progresses, as we wait to see if Lady Banstock can hold her child longer than any other. Gossips have arrived, matrons of status from our side of the Island, and the lady of the lord governor of the Isle of Wight has visited. The midwife has advised the household not to unlock or untie any lock or knot except the main door. This is especially tedious, because I need to look at the old rent rolls and they are tied up with ribbons. It’s probably a foolish superstition but we want a healthy child.

The one person who seems to be too distracted with her own problems to worry about the baby is Mistress Isabeau. Many times she takes to the chapel, and I hear her sobbing there. Even Viola cannot comfort her.

Viola seems much taken with Master Seabourne’s ideas, and he is to pay us a visit today. I have decided to act as chaperon for a while, to learn more of the man.

Seabourne bows low, and the plumes on his hat sweep against the floor. Although in his usual black, his clothes are richly decorated and his hands adorned with several rings. Viola bows back formally, and I bend my knee. We are all very proper in the solar.

‘I hear the Lady Flora, your stepmother, prospers?’

Ah, I think, we are going to have that conversation. But Viola has other ideas.

‘She does, thank you. I have some questions for you, if I may?’ She leaps into passages from the pamphlets he lent her, and he, half laughing, struggles to explain them. Some of the topics are a little indecorous. The male and female qualities of substances in nature, depending on whether they yield or otherwise, is one I judge suspect, but their interest seems innocent. Both are so involved in their discussion of the properties of different humours, I confess, my mind wanders.

I let my attention travel out of the windows, where I can see the smith walking one of the farm horses up and down the drive, while a man scythes in the distance. His silent sweep must have been mesmerising, for when I look up again, the horse is gone and the scytheman is halfway down the front field.

‘—but surely, there must be some sort of balance?’ I hear Viola say, her hands clenched in her lap as she leans forward on the settle.

‘Balance, indeed. There must be energy, to place in the transformation, to fuel it. This is drawn in by the magician, the agent, as he calls upon natural spirit to aid his work.’

Viola is too absorbed by the man to notice my attention. ‘Is that why the Romans sacrificed animals to strengthen babies?’

I stare at her, the bright expression of her need to learn softened by something. Seabourne nods, but notices my attention. ‘I was explaining the principles of alchemy to the lady,’ he explains.

‘Sacrifice smells like sorcery to me,’ I grumble, much troubled by an ache in my lower back. ‘A short step to witchcraft, indeed.’

He hurries to correct me. ‘We are merely examining the nature of the world around us, Master Vincent. In the way that we discover that if we do not water a plant in a pot, it withers. For example, take the commonly held belief that spiders’ webs prevent festering in arrow wounds. This has been proven by many soldiers, but they observe that only fresh webs work. Thus we understand more of the nature of spiders and their gift from God.’

I found I was interested myself. ‘How might a sacrifice be used?’

Viola explains, Master Seabourne nodding and adding a few words of correction as she does. ‘In – is it lustratio? Yes lustratio, the Roman sacrifice blessed the new child with good health and strength, by drawing the weaknesses into animals, then destroying the beasts.’

Seabourne leans forward. ‘Such life energy was believed to influence the child’s growth and fortunes, even its destiny.’

I stand, stretching my back. ‘Well, maybe we should do that lustr— sacrifice for my Lady Banstock’s baby.’ I look at Viola, who stands, and Seabourne joins us. ‘Now, I have accounts to do and no one can be spared to keep Lady Viola company, so we must bid you farewell, sir. I hope you are comfortable at Well House?’

‘Indeed, very comfortable.’

Viola swings around to me, swishing her best kirtle over the rushes. ‘Oh, Master Vincent! Can we show Master Seabourne how the work is progressing on the East Wing?’

The wing that the newly wedded couple will share as married man and wife. There is a slight pause as both the betrothed look uncomfortable.

‘Another time, child, when John Carpenter is there to show us around.’ I speak to Seabourne directly. ‘There was some rot in the roof beams from a few loose tiles that needed repair, no more. But the rooms have not been occupied since Lord Anthonie brought his bride there.’

‘I shall be honoured to look at the rooms when there is more time.’ He bows, Viola bows, I bow. We are all very polite. I resolve to take a closer look at these radical ideas he is feeding Viola.

Vincent Garland, Steward to Lord Banstock, His Memoir