Excerpt: Jackaneddy

By the time Edmund, Charley and Will escaped from the schoolroom, the courtyard was restored to the normal late afternoon level of activity and there was no sign of the new arrival. Edmund and Charley ran joyfully towards the stables, knowing that if they were quick they had time for a ride before it was time to get ready for the feast. Their less fortunate friend headed for the servants’ quarters to see what duties had been found to keep him busy until the feast time came.

But there was no avoiding the rumours that were spreading around the castle, and by the time they assembled for the feast, all three boys were agog to see the new arrival. Flo and Nel, who had been isolated in the salon with Lady Van, had heard nothing, and both looked slightly surprised at the level of excitement in the great all when they took their places at the high table. Such a hum of chatter and speculation was unusual in the well-regulated household, even when there were guests, as there were today. But Charley whispered to them a highly abbreviated version of Jackaneddy’s encounter with Master Schmidt (as he had heard it from Jo in the stable), so that by the time the feast began, they were as eager as anyone to see him.

He did not appear until after the meal was finished, when seats were pushed back from the table, and as tankards and goblets were being refilled. Then he walked unobtrusively through the far door, and made his way quietly to the space below the dais, making his bow respectfully to Lord Van, his lady, children and guests. He was dressed in clean navy blue hose with an emerald green tunic, his long hair tied back neatly with a twist of green ribbon, which would have looked effeminate on many men, but somehow on him did not. He was carrying a mandolin – obviously very old, but well-polished and clearly much loved.

Smiling slightly, he pantomimed his need for a stool to the men sitting at the tables just beneath the dais. One or two refused – with varying degrees of laughter – but he struck lucky with one of the guards, who surrendered his seat to him with a good-natured grin and a slap on the shoulder. Jackaneddy mimed his exaggerated gratitude, and sat down.

The laughter which had filled the hall at his antics died abruptly as he began to sing and play. His voice was deep and sweet with an almost haunting quality. He played almost absent-mindedly, as if the mandolin were an extension of himself, but every note was perfect. The song he sang followed a familiar theme – knight sees fair lady, falls in love, faces untold obstacles, rescues fair lady, wins her gratitude and undying love, wins fair lady as his own – but his voice and musical skill brought something to it that was far beyond the abilities of most musicians and singers this hall had seen. There was a silence lasting almost a minute when the last haunting notes died away, before the applause and shouting began. Jackaneddy stood and bowed and smiled, though managed to give the impression that such a reception was no more than his due.

He sang again, this time a humorous song of the woes of a young man trying to live up to an impossibly perfect older brother. This got a rapturous reception, and Charley hoped that no one noticed his slightly rueful sideways glance at Edmund as he joined in the applause. But he felt the pressure of his sister’s foot against his under the table, and knew that Nel at least understood how he was feeling. And when Charley looked up, he caught Jackaneddy regarding him with a sympathetic expression that made him think that – somehow and impossibly (he’d been in the castle barely six hours – how could he know anything about it?) – he understood too.