Free Strange Devices of the Sun and Moon by Lisa Goldstein Page B

have even been accused of being a witch. Here, so close to the city, people’s businesses kept them too occupied to notice her.
    â€œI mean that it may be unlawful to deal with them,” Alice said. “Perhaps I should have nothing to do with them.”
    â€œNothing?”
    Alice had forgotten Brownie. She felt her face grow hot under the other woman’s shrewd gaze. But had that been all that Margery meant by her question? Or did she know something of the future? Had she guessed how strongly Alice was drawn to the splendor of the queen?
    The wine had heated; Margery poured it out and handed her a goblet. It tasted a little odd, and she looked down to see cut tobacco leaves floating on top. And this was the woman to whom the queen had gone for help! But perhaps it was as she had thought: Margery’s other sight kept her from noticing the things everyone else considered important.
    â€œI hope you’ve spoken to no one else about these—these powers. If your talk should come to the ears of the Privy Council—”
    â€œDo you think I’ve lost my wits? But no one listens to old women—you know that as well as I do.”
    â€œWe’re not so old,” Alice said. “But you might be right. I’m rarely called on at the Stationers’ Company meetings, and it’s only when another printer repeats my suggestions that they’re taken seriously. Someone tried to flatter me the other day by asking for my advice. I almost believed him—I wanted so much to be accepted by the rest of the company.”
    The conversation turned to the gossip in the churchyard. “George has asked me to marry him,” Alice said.
    â€œGeorge? That foolish-looking man at Paul’s?” Margery had met Alice when she had gone into London looking for a book. Later one of the other stationers had told Alice he thought the book Margery wanted had last been printed over a hundred years ago. Since then Alice had kept aside things she thought would interest Margery.
    â€œDo you truly think he looks foolish? He seems to me just the opposite—a man who can never laugh at anything.”
    â€œAye, and that’s what makes him a fool. I hope you told him no.”
    â€œI did. I don’t think I will ever marry again.”
    â€œYou can do better for yourself than George.”
    â€œDidn’t you hear what I said? I will not marry again. I’m too old for marriage, and I’ve grown too solitary this past year. I’m not suited to live with anyone.”
    â€œAh. But you don’t know what fortune has in store for you.”
    â€œAre you prophesying for me?” Alice laughed, but her heart seemed to lift a little. To marry again, to put an end to her loneliness …
    â€œDo you want me to?”
    â€œGod forfend,” Alice said.

5
    Evening had fallen by the time Alice got back to the churchyard. All over the yard stalls stood in shadow; from the gate she could not even make out her own station. Around her the other stationers were putting their books away for the day, closing their stalls, counting out the money they had made.
    When she got to her station she saw that the young man who worked for her had gone. She unlocked her stall, curious to see what he had sold that day. Someone moved toward her from the shadows.
    â€œGood day, Mistress Wood.”
    It was Tom Nashe. How long had he been waiting for her? His manner seemed urgent; she guessed that he had something to tell her. Suddenly, as if from nowhere, an icy winter’s wind blew through the yard, riffling the pages of her books. She shivered. “What is it, Tom?”
    â€œI’ve found him.”
    â€œFound who?”
    â€œYour son. That is to say, I found him once. He’s gone again.”
    â€œMy—son?”
    â€œAye. Arthur. He sits and talks with us sometimes at the Saracen’s Head, but he never told us his name. He has red