Keturah and Lord Death

“Choirmaster!” she cried, louder this time, and ran with all speed to him. Gretta and I followed more slowly.

Finally he turned about and nodded his head gravely. “Well met, Beatrice,” he said. He nodded to Gretta and me.

“Where are you going, Choirmaster?” Beatrice asked.

“Into the forest,” he said sadly.

I laid my hand on his forearm. “Good sir, that way is death.”

“That I well know, Sister Reeve,” he said, and he made to turn himself about and enter the trees. The trees seemed to reach their branches toward him, whispering to him to come, come.

“Sir, what can be so bad?” Beatrice asked with alarm.

“I tried to explain to the young lord,” he said. “But he would not listen. The king loves music, he said. You must have the choir sing, he said, well enough to charm a king. Alas, I cannot make a silk purse from a sow’s ear. I told him my lead soprano has grown whiskers and become a tenor all of a night, but he would not listen to me. He expects beautiful music. Beautiful! Here in Tide-by-Rood! I would lose my post at best—and perhaps a body part as well, depending on how badly the choir sang. Ah, how did I end up here?”

I knew how Choirmaster had ended up here—people in the richer towns could not bear to be quite as sad and somber as Choirmaster could make them.

“Oh!” Beatrice suddenly cried aloud. “Dear Choirmaster,” she said, “I believe I may have a solution to your woes. I mean—I mean, I believe Keturah may have a solution to your woes.”

“Indeed?” He took out a great white handkerchief and dabbed his stupendous nose with it.

“She—she has a—a cousin, whose name is Bill. And he sings.”

“Bill? Why have I never heard of him?”

I wondered the same myself, and then I realized what Beatrice was suggesting. As a girl she could not sing in the choir, but as a boy she could.

“He—he rarely sings, sir, for his mother fears making the angels jealous,” I said with an encouraging look from Beatrice.

“Truly?”

“She will send him to you, and you shall have your soprano, and beautiful music,” Beatrice said.

He smiled at her and then me. “Thank you, Keturah.” He frowned. “But if he can’t sing …”

“He can sing the river still, Choirmaster,” I said, and Beatrice blushed pink as a spring rose.

“Tell him to come first thing after chores tomorrow.”

“And if he comes, Choirmaster,” Beatrice said, “will you play a happy song? And will you come to dinner at Keturah’s house?”

“If he can sing as you say, anything might be possible,” Choirmaster said. He looked at the burden on his shoulder as if he could not remember where he had been going.

We bade him good day, and he turned back toward the church.

“And how, my pretty Beatrice, how will you possibly become a boy by tomorrow morning?” I asked.

“I shall pray,” she said, “and as a boy, I shall sing until Choirmaster makes happy music, and then you shall love him and he will marry you in gratitude for the choir, and the king shall give you his shoe full of gold and the wish of your heart.”

I did not let her see my smile. I had devised many plans that day, and now I had one more, one that included the happiness of my friends. Though evening was gathering over the forest, my heart was full of hope as we continued home. Lord Death would not have Choirmaster either.

Gretta and Beatrice parted to go to their own homes and talk with their families about the exciting turn of events for Tide-by-Rood, but only after a promise that I would call for them if I had need of anything.

My heart was lighter than my step as I walked the upward path to home, for I felt a strange fatigue in my bones. A breeze out of the forest, cold and scented with bitter pine, reminded me that although work had begun on the village, John Temsland was yet unaware of the grim reason for my plan. And the day was wearing on.

Again I wondered why the eye would roll and roll in the presence of Ben Marshall, and again I suspected that the charm would not tell me once and for true until I had paid Soor Lily’s price.

Though the very scent of the forest breeze made my arms gooseflesh, I knew I would pay the price—not only for the charm, but for the honor of it. I could not bear to see even Soor Lily’s great lump of a baby son go to Lord Death.

By the time I arrived at home, Grandmother was at work with the evening meal and solicited my help as soon as I crossed the threshold.

“Into the garden with you, and fetch me beets and peas, dear.”

I went, and wearily I gathered. I did not look at the forest. I picked the peas closest to the cottage, and thought the whole time how I might help Beatrice become a boy and where I might procure boys’ clothing. I had almost enough beets and peas for the meal when I heard thrashing in the forest just beyond the garden.

I was so afraid, I dropped the vegetable basket. Perhaps it was Lord Death building me a marriage house, I thought. Angrily I put the vegetables back in the basket, and then listened again. More thrashing, and so I cautiously approached the forest’s edge and peered into the green gloom.