The Gilded Lily by Deborah Swift Page B

really known her sister. There was something in Ella’s tale that made her spine prickle, for she knew that Ella never told anyone
the truth when a lie suited her better. With Ella there was always the feeling that the truth moved about, like tussocks on shifting sand, and that sometimes when you thought you were on solid
ground, it would tilt and sink beneath you. And that fact alone made her shiver, and not just from cold.

Chapter 6

    Jay Whitgift hurried down the narrow alleyway towards the Pelican Coffee House. The icy rain was like pitchforks so he was anxious to get away from the midden of the narrow
unswept streets with their seeping piles of horse excrement and into the dry darkness of the Pelican, where he was to meet Allsop, a client. As he rounded the corner into Cooper’s Yard, he
almost tripped over a chapman whose tray of pamphlets was jutting out into the main thoroughfare. About to curse the man, he turned to face him but was arrested by a pair of familiar eyes.
    ‘Josiah Whitgift.’ The man moved out from under the upper storey and pushed his tray under Jay’s nose. ‘Well, I never.’
    Jay did not reply and stepped away. He had no wish to linger and speak with him for he recalled him well.
    ‘Don’t go running away from old friends now. There is an almanac here would suit you very well.’ He fished amongst the damp pile of thin booklets in his tray.
    Jay shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. ‘Sorry, Tindall, I’m meeting someone, maybe another time, eh?’
    Tindall fixed Jay with his eyes. ‘Take my advice, you ignore the stars at your peril. A wise man takes them into account or he cannot move with the tides.’
    Jay looked over his shoulder, seeking an excuse to leave.
    ‘There is a message here could be made for you,’ Tindall went on, ‘and you would do well to heed it. There is a conjunction of Saturn and Mars coming, the reaper and the
firebrand. It will mean great upheaval, not least for those born under the twins, such as yourself.’
    Curse the man. He would walk past, but it was evident that Tindall was not going to let him by unless he made a purchase. It was embarrassing to see him standing out on the street in such a
condition. The last time he had seen him was in his father’s warm parlour, where in his fancy velvet coat it seemed as if he was doing them a favour by calling at all. Now astrologers had
fallen from the king’s favour, and like all the others Tindall must be finding it hard to earn a living.
    ‘Very well, I’ll take this.’ Anxious to move on, Jay picked out the first chapbook that came to hand, giving it a cursory glance to see the price. He turned it over. It showed
what appeared to be a depiction of Hell – burning skeletons flailing behind a wall of forked-tongued flames. In the background, a building that looked like St Paul’s Church was toppling
into the fiery sea.
    He stuffed it into the top of his breeches and held out a penny.
    ‘No. It is not that one you need,’ said Tindall, his eyes dark and shifting behind his dribble of greasy hair, and he took out a thinner handwritten paper from under his coat.
    Jay sighed and reached for another coin. Tindall took it. His cuffs were thick with dirt, the edges frayed.
    ‘This is the one,’ said Tindall, holding out the paper, which was peppered with diagrams and symbols and tiny writing. ‘But you will not make much sense of it without my
interpretation – you would do better with a full consultation.’
    Jay snatched the paper impatiently. ‘No, I don’t think so.’ He looked at Tindall almost apologetically. ‘You must know, nobody bothers with astrology these days. My
father doesn’t need your help. We are men of reason now – I even have my own telescope. We don’t need old-fashioned notions of predatory comets and portents of doom. We’ve
moved forward with the king, into a new age.’
    Tindall shook his head and said nothing, just stared at him intently, a look of pity in