The Bookseller's Sonnets Page 9

  This was fairly typical of our conversations. It started out innocently enough, but I always ended up feeling that it was easy to see that with my mother and grandmother, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, and that the harvest of guilt had originally been planted in my grandmother’s orchard.

  “Everything’s fine up here, Mom. Nothing to worry about.”

  “That’s good. Listen, I’m going to email you all of our travel information. Just in case. Should I send it to your home or work email address?”

  “Whatever’s easier. I check them both a couple of times a day.”

  “Then I’ll send it to both. I don’t want you to get in trouble for receiving personal email at work. And I just want to make sure you can get in touch with us in case anything happens.”

  Even though I had lived with her for so many years, I was still always annoyed at how my mother always seemed to be waiting for something bad to happen. I knew it had a lot to do with what her parents had gone through, but it drove me crazy nonetheless. It didn’t matter what real life threw at her; it was always a waiting game to see when and how the other shoe would drop.

  “Nothing’s going to happen, Mom,” I said, irritated. “And you don’t have to check The New York Times. You know that if something happened to me, Michael would call you.”

  I could practically hear her neck stiffening over the phone. “Well, be that as it may, I was also thinking about your grandmother. Have you spoken with her?”

  “I went to see her yesterday.”

  At least I had this much to report, so that she couldn’t accuse me of neglecting her mother, the Holocaust survivor. “She’s feeling good and she looks great.” I fished around for something to say that would reassure my mother that my grandmother was doing just fine. “She’s got tickets for a chamber music series this winter.”

  “I wish she wouldn’t venture out in all that snow and ice at her age. Why can’t she stay home and listen to WQXR? Anyway, I’ll send everything to you this afternoon or tonight. We’re flying out on Wednesday and we meet the ship on Saturday.”

  “How long is your cruise?”

  “Two weeks, but we’re going to stay overseas longer. Once the cruise is over we’re going to Tunisia and then to London for a few days. We’re flying home through Heathrow. You’ll see. It’s all in the itinerary.”

  “Great, I’ll look at it when I get it.”

  “I’ll call you on Tuesday night, before we leave, okay? Will you be home?”

  “Hopefully. But leave me a message if I’m not there, and I’ll call you back if I don’t get home too late. I was telling Dad, there’s been a lot of late nights these days. We have a lot going on at work. I’m actually here in the office right now.”

  “Well, that’s good, honey.” I could hear the hope in her voice and I knew what she was thinking. Good, she’s not home spending the weekend with that goyische young man. “Maybe it’ll lead to a promotion.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” I told her. “Anyway, I should get to work. I’ll talk to you before you leave, OK?”

  “All right. Take good care, honey. We love you.”

  “Love you too,” I said, and I could feel a little knot in my throat. True, she pissed me off constantly these days, and she was negative and paranoid. Not to mention the fact that she obviously hated my boyfriend. But she was still my mother.

  “Bye, Mom,” I said, and hung up the phone.

  I sat back in my chair for a few minutes and looked out of the window at the gray sky over the park. The rain was lashing against the windows. I got up from my desk, turned on some more lights, and found the white gloves in my desk drawer. Then I entered the code to open the vault and drew out the manuscript, wrapped in its acid-free paper, from where I had hidden it in the back. I brought it over to the counter, and sat down to read further.

  Attend me not, false suitor; let me be.

  The stone is not yet cast, no fate is sealed.

  In favor false was his intent revealed.

  Why should this serpent make a wife of me?

  This scholar, with insidious mastery -

  Affection for one sister is concealed

  And to a father’s nobler faith appealed

  Whilst downcast eyes doth mock his charity.

  His bold intentions writhe with serpent’s shame

  About me, wise beneath his knowing smiles.

  And God shall find me faithless, should he prove

  To be the heir of one who prized our name

  And now makes me the prize of cunning wiles.

  I look upon his face, and know no love.

  It was all at once that I knew of William’s intention; to have me for his wife, to steal the loving scholarship of my hands, and to replace me in my father’s esteem as the heir to his noble teachings.

  It was clear to see that he admired my sister Cecily; for as it is told, she was the fairest of the three More sisters. For I, in my face and features, did bear the likeness of my dear mother; tho’ by God’s grace I was of like wit to my father. Yet it was whispered by our friends that William had been instructed by my noble father to court me, with the intent to make me his wife. These rumours did cause much sadness and strife in the once happy hours that my family shared.

  Soon in the night my sister Cecily stole to my chamber; there in the moonlight did I see her fair countenance blemished with tears. At once I knew that the bitter music of her sorrow had been composed by William, and most gently I said unto her - Weep not, dear sister, for what trouble brings thee to me at this late hour? She said to me, Meg, thou art a traitor to us all, for it is thy grace that separates me from my heart’s dearest.

  I am amused even now, to recall how I silently laughed, for I could no more imagine such a man as anyone’s heart’s dearest than I could imagine taking a pig to my bosom, and nursing it as a child of my own flesh. It was then I recognized that it was the truth that she spoke, in her genuine care for this unworthy soul. How can it be told, for Holy God made my sister a heart less cynical than my own, and perhaps she could see a goodness in him that had eluded my eye.

  Nonetheless, I feared for her happiness with him. Though he did love her, virtuously and wisely, in my presence and in the presence of others, I sensed duplicity in his intentions towards her. His demeanor in secret, however, though he tried to keep it from me, did pervade the odour of lust in her company, and I feared for her sweet innocence. She was a mere girl, and he a man of the world. Who knew in what trickery he could dissuade her from her virtuous life?

  In her tears, I assured her that I did not love him, and had no intent to be his wife, then or ever. I spoke to her of my joy of learning, and how I would forsake that joy for no mortal man, save to vouchsafe the wishes of our dearest father. Yet I spoke not of my fears for her, for it is told that the wise shall keep their fears silent, lest they should prove the speakers of truth.

  She held me to her, her face alight with joy, as I swore unto her that I would no more hurt her than I would take a torch to my books. Yet the motto warns: Swear not, lest ye be foresworn! Would that I had taken those words to heart, for as the palest of sunlight touches a rose in the next morning, I was summoned to my father’s side, and it was told to me, as my heart bled for my fair sister, how I was betrothed.

  I must tell you, reader, that for the first moment of my life all defiance filled me, and I lashed out in dire anger at that noblest of men. I wailed, I screamed, I said that I would have none of William, and bemoaned my fate like a chastened child. In that moment a gentle smile curled my father’s lip, as he said unto me, For it is so, that even my wisest child is, at her heart’s core, a mere woman.

  Do not suffer unduly, child, he said, for it is my wish to see thee thus espoused, and cared for after my death. Thou can no longer live a child in thy father’s name; soon thou shalt have a name of thine own – you shall share his, for it is good, and it is my wish that thou mayest be, perhaps, even more than More.

  I wept withou
t consolation, even as he sought to cheer me with his wit and his clever turn of the jest, at the thought of bearing any name but my own, but there was little to be done. My father, so unselfish in his love for me and for his God, had made his wish; there was nothing for me to do but grant it. And would I, his docile servant, his obedient child, hasten to defy his word? Never, was my answer. But in that hour, when I wept for the final time as my father’s child, I told that man of Cecily’s plight; how she had declared her love for William only a short time before, and of my imminent betrayal of my word to her.

  It was then that my father told me his deepest secret: of the years he spent apprenticed to his master John Colt, and how he fell rapturously and singularly in love with his younger daughter. But his master, in fairness, espoused him to the elder, as it would tarnish the honor of the house to have the younger daughter marry before the elder one. He said unto me, - Meg, it is a far nobler thing to wed before Cecily; other suitors shall attend her, but before she can be espoused to a man of honor, thou must first be wed. This was the wisdom of my master; from this I shall not be deterred.

  - And as thou hast witnessed, I am the happiest of men, for that eldest daughter was thy dearest mother Jane, who rewarded me with four delightful children, for whom I would gladly give my life and heart. Do not despair, little Meg, for it is not in thy nature to seek gladness when thy wit would fain choose reason. This is the most reasonable course, and God will grant thee safety and peace. -

  Though in word I did consent to this; in my heart I was sinful, rebellious and disobedient. I left my father in his chamber no longer as a child, but as a woman who swore eternal hatred unto her betrothed for his dishonor to my fair sister.

  Without uttering a word of consolation to her, William attended me a few hours later in the sitting-room, and said these words to me: Margaret, we are to wed soon; and in truth it is long past time for thee to give up the things of childhood – thy books, thy papers, must all be in my keeping, for it is thy duty as my wife to be commended only unto me, to be subject to my will and wisdom, and I wish for thee to quit all things except those in keeping with my affairs.

  I turned upon him and said - Quiet, foul Serpent; for my soul belongs no more to thee than to the body in which it dwells; I am commended to my Self and my God and my noble father, so there will be no more of thy words. Make thyself of use, and commend thyself to the misery of my dearest Cecily; for in truth thou hast made a mockery of her innocent heart, and there will be sorrow in this house of thy creation. Wisdom indeed! There was no thought in thee but to use her ill, and to espouse me. Thus thou hast dividest me from those I love, and usurp my words for thine own evil work.

  His cheek then did turn pale, and he countenanced me as a guilty man, and said, If thou shouldst reveal any of my doings to thy father, I shall honor my allegiance to him no more. There are changes yet to come, there are storms that are coming to damage the fields of our fair land, and thy father should have a care to see that his harvest is acceptable to the King.

  It was in that moment that I found all of my suspicions alight, for I believed William to be in the most dishonorable employ of that evil Monarch, heretofore my father’s friend and confidante. It was William who hath enticed him into that royal Web with no thought but for himself and his own comfort. Many men knew of my father’s wisdom; should William not reap this praise for himself?

  Perhaps my father’s greatest sin was a trusting heart; for if ever it brought him to a more cruel end, he was loath to look upon his betrayer, and in faith, linked the name and soul of his most favored child to the evil usurper who sought to gain his fame.

  My cell phone rang, startling me out of the pages that lay beneath my gloved fingertips. I picked up absently.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey,” Michael’s voice strained to be heard over the echoing sounds trapped inside the tennis bubble. “I just got your message. Are you still at work?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “How was your game?”

  “Good today, for once. Are you going to be much longer?”

  I looked down at the beautifully formed letters on the page that I had just finished reading, and made a swift decision. “Probably,” I said, pushing the hair out of my eyes. “I have a couple of things I want to catch up on this afternoon, while I have some quiet time. It’s going to be a crazy week.”

  “Not a problem. I have some work to catch up on, too.” His voice sounded relieved. I guessed he didn’t want to keep fighting with me, either.

  “OK. I’ll be home for dinner. Maybe we can go out. I’m in the mood for pizza.”

  “That would be great,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Bye.” I pushed a button on my phone and ended the call. I realized in a single empty moment that neither of us had ended the call by saying that we loved one another, but maybe, I thought, it was something I’d need to get used to from now on.

  I gingerly turned the page and to my surprise, the paper on which the words were written was a different consistency – deeper in color and stronger and thicker in texture. I touched the sheet carefully between my thumb and forefinger. I looked down and saw that the ink seemed sharper, bolder; although the handwriting was the same, the words seemed to be more hastily composed.

  I stood by, pale as a milk-colored rose, as Cecily was ushered into my father’s study. Next to me, with his terrible hand on my sleeve, stood William, with his mouth curled into a smile as insidious as that of the serpent of Eden.

  When I heard her distraught cry, I broke from William’s cruel mastery, and hearing the terrible sound of my own name like discordant music on his tongue, I ran from him, following my sister out of the door of my father’s house. I cried out after her, but she refused to turn back. I decided to leave her to her grief, and hastened down the long lane and out the gates. I walked, endlessly, for what seemed like days but could not have been more than hours.

  Along the road I wept without consolation, raging against Holy God, crying out with my own heartbreak and that of my sister, knowing that for all of her days Cecily would gaze upon me with bitterness and distrust.

  I walked on, not seeing the dust rise where my footsteps lingered in the road behind me, not smelling the perfume of the blossomèd air, not even noticing how the wild dark eyes of the roadside’s children hunted my shadow as I walked, unaccompanied, unescorted, a highly improper woman, eyes blinded by grief and my hands twisting with the useless will to defy my father and his apprentice.

  I stopped for a moment and looked at my hands, seeing the tips of my fingers stained with ink, and the scarlet mark of an old candle burn on my upturned palm. I thought of the certainty with which my selfsame hands had consoled my sister in the night, offering comfort as if it was a crop of sweet and mellow fruit waiting to be harvested, when, oh, without the protection of the night, without the duplicity of the shadows in which her love for William had been sown, how in the merciless sight of the morning, only blight and loss and seasons of insatiable hunger would be revealed to her.

  I wondered how my father could have failed to protect his daughters from William, and yet I knew in my soul that my father, when it came to reading the character of those whom he wanted to trust – as opposed to those who had earned the merit of his felicity - was an unholy fool. Although he was gifted with a mind that could unravel the most intricate workings of the law, and a soul and heart that knew the true name of justice, he also possessed a false wisdom borne by ambition that in his mind turned warning signs to jests, and believed that the peace of laughter and a phrase of holy writ could turn enemy into friend, warrior into lover, snake into archangel.

  Even now, I thought, my father knew me – his own dearest Margaret – as one who sought to live out his teachings, his noblest spirit, but that since I had been born as a woman, he did not, and would not, know my heart.

  I had first thought that it was my tears that had soaked the ruffled collar of the new gown – unbeknownst to me, a bethrothal gown –
that I had most unwillingly donned at William’s – and my father’s - behest, but when I looked at the darkening sky I felt the spatters of cold rain upon my pale cheeks, and so I gathered my courage and made my hastening way through the marketplace, amidst the cries of the sellers and the shocked looks of the women hawking their wares. Although I was not a courtier, my smoothèd hair beneath the angular lines of my hood and the well-cut lines of my gown betrayed me as a woman of good family, especially among those women with dusty curls beneath their caps, and skirt hems stained with mud.

  To escape the shrill cries of the men and the pitiless glances of their women, I ducked my head beneath the low lintel of a roadside shop, and heard the tiny silver music of bells over my head as I opened the door.

  I stood in the doorway, my gown and hood soaked with rain, the taunts of the sellers still echoing in my ears, and a heart sickened by my father’s foolish betrayal of my sister and myself. At once, a young man emerged from a darkened back room, hastily smoothing his curls back from his forehead with a deft hand.

  -Yes, Madam? he asked, and there was a tone of scholarly civility in those two words that reminded me of my father’s gentle voice.

  I did not know how to respond. I looked around at the walls crammed with texts and papers; I smelled the glorious scent of what was perhaps an ocean of ink. Though it did not become my wit to ask, I did just that, of the man who stood expectantly before me.

  -What shop is this? I asked, trying to put the quiet command of my father’s voice into my own shaking one.

  -This is a bookseller’s, he answered perplexèdly, as if I were slow of mind and speech, and I could hear in his words the inflection and accent of a distant land.

  I felt a flash of anger in my eyes at the impertinence of his reply. -I am aware of that, I said impatiently. -I am asking: who is the bookseller?

  There was an amusement in his face as he said, as he somewhat dismissively bowed before me, -It is my shop, milady.