Chapter 20: To Convince Sir Walter

Mark cursed the 16th century. It was so hard to get anything done! There were so many dead ends. The number one medical problem of the day was infection. The word 'clean' in this time meant 'tidy'. The idea of disinfectant was non-existent. One would think that it would be easy. Iodine was discovered from seaweed ash using hydrochloric acid after removing sodium and potassium, but how did one do that? Carbolic acid, another great disinfectant, was obtained by distilling coal tar, but how did you do it? Mark was a historian, not a chemist. It was so damned frustrating!

Still, there were ways. The science of the day believed that everything in the world was composed of earth, fire, water, and air. She should be able to make a microscope to prove the existence of germs and infection. Alcohol was a fairly good disinfectant. If she could get people to believe in germs, then washing hands and disinfecting instruments should save many thousands of lives.

Erin had decided sometime the previous day, that being with Mark was exciting. She treated her like a long-lost sister and before they left, she insisted in pinning up her hair into a bun like the other fine ladies. Mark didn't mind. She never had a sister, but she welcomed the closeness Erin gave her; she hadn't felt this way since her days in the harem.

After chores, Mark and Erin went to Roger Worthy, a noted glassmaker, and talked about making lenses; the man had a good reputation for honesty and quality work. Roger could make lenses for reading glasses, but told her how very difficult they were to make as well as how time consuming. As far as the tiny lenses she was talking about, he just threw up his hands. Mark was afraid of that. So much for the compound microscope she had envisioned. Fortunately, she had a backup plan. There was a very old type of microscope that Mark had made in High School using a small glass ball as the lens. She drew the type of lens she needed, described the way to make it and smiled sweetly at the sweaty, grizzled man with the leather apron.

She offered him a pound if he could make a suitable glass ball and 10 shillings if he tried and failed. She warned him that it must be very round or it wouldn't be satisfactory and she must have it by tomorrow afternoon. He said he would give it a good try. A pound was a great deal to make in one day; many servants only made 2 - 5 pounds a year.

She had to talk to Jim before she went any further. She really wanted his input. Mark and Erin made the walk across London Bridge and headed east to the docks. This time she didn't get any odd looks on the busy street. It seems that Erin was right and she really could pass for an Italian with a tan. She found him in the office looking over some papers with Albert. Jim had to look twice; she looked so different. His eyes lit up. "Jayti, you look ravishing!" Well, she couldn't complain too much about how she looked if Jim thought she looked good. She decided she would draw the line at English makeup; some of that stuff was poisonous.

She only gave him a peck on the cheek. They were with company, after all. She looked ruefully at Albert. "Albert, could I borrow Jim for dinner? I have to be back at your house in three hours, or your wife will punish me."

Albert grimaced and sighed. "If you expect me to tell Margaret to treat you like an adult, I won't. She has it in her head that you're as good as a daughter and I won't be the one to disabuse her of the notion. Besides, I can't say I disagree with her. You've a wild streak that needs a mother and a father to tame." He nodded towards Jim. "He's yours for as long as you need him, Jayti. We're almost finished here, anyway." He glanced at Erin. "Erin, you're with me for dinner." She opened her mouth to protest. "No, Erin. Leave these two lovebirds alone for a while."

* * * * * * * * * *

In the tavern, Jayti explained the events of the day before, especially her meeting with Sir Walter, and the plan to make a microscope. "He wants to bring me to court to be presented to the Queen. This could be the big break we need to pass on medical knowledge in return for free access to foundries, factories and alchemy shops. I desperately need to know the entire process, from beginning to end. Only then, can I begin to offer improvements."

Jim was worried. "Jayti, I'm concerned that you're getting in over your head. Sir Walter is probably using you to gain power in court. I've heard of him. He's a vain man and often overreaches. The Queen likes him, perhaps even loves him, but she doesn't trust him. He also has powerful enemies that would be more than happy to bring him down."

"Yes. From what I've heard, Robert Deveroux, the Earl of Essex is his current rival. It's fortunate for Sir Walter that the Queen doesn't know he's secretly married to Elizabeth Throckmorton, one of her Ladies in Waiting. But Jim, I don't see what Lord Essex can do if he doesn't know what's going on."

Jim put his hand over hers and looked around warily for listeners. He leaned forward. "How do you know of this secret marriage?" He hissed.

"Oh, that. I grew up in Raleigh, North Carolina. We studied him in school."

He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it and took a large gulp of ale, instead. "There's another factor you're forgetting. You're a very young foreign woman attempting to prove something many educated men would vehemently deny. You tell me about Cowpox, Smallpox, and the Plague and I believe you, but no one else will."

Mark looked at Jim and kissed his hand. "Future husband, the only person I really have to convince is the Queen. She has a lot of faults; she's vain, occasionally petty and indecisive, but she's intelligent and loves England. All she needs to do is grant me a demonstration to prove what I say is true. I need to convince Sir Walter before I go before the Queen anyway. He can tell me what I need to know to convince her."

Jim looked resigned. "Future wife, I love you, but I know your mouth. Just be very careful at court and think before you speak, or I could be visiting you in the Tower."

* * * * * * * * * *

Sir Walter waited patiently in the alley for his informer. He arrived finally, giving a last backward glance for anyone following. Sir Walter waved him over casually. The little man scurried closer. "So, Will. What did you find out?"

The man removed his greasy hat and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Satisfied he was presentable; he began his report. "Well, sir. It's all true. The men saw her practicing with a sword the whole trip; say she's bloody good. She does represent the Maharana of whatever and her fiancee did jump into the water to save her in a storm. They made a boat, sailed it around the Horn and caught up with the ship as pretty as you please. I wouldn't have given it credence, but more than one swore to it. They think bloody high of her, they does. They drink to her name, and to her fiancee, James Pennington."

'Amazing,' thought Sir Walter. "Very good, Will. Here is something for your efforts." He handed him a silver coin and dismissed him. 'There's confirmation,' he thought. It was the second such report he had. On impulse, he decided to invite both Jayti and her fiancee if Jayti's proof of her medical knowledge was good enough. His new wife was already jealous enough with his constant proximity to the Queen as Captain of the Queen's Guard. Bringing an exotic young lady to the court on his arm wouldn't improve his domestic tranquillity and even worse, it could make the Queen jealous.

* * * * * * * * * *

Roger Worthy was an anxious man as Mark inspected over two-dozen small glass globes attached to thin glass threads. Over a dozen were rejected, out of hand, but two appeared to be of sufficiently high quality to try. She gave him a Sovereign and thanked him graciously for his good work. She ordered the box, mirror and adjusting spring from a local carpenter using a drawing she made the previous night, promising a very good price for speedy construction.

She met Erin at the company office by the dock and walked home with her. Erin wasn't too pleased to have been forced to stay with her father for two hours, but Mark promised to make it up to her. They made it back just before the deadline, to Mark and Erin's great relief.

Margaret was shocked to learn Mark couldn't cook good English food or use a wood stove. To Margaret, it would have been extremely remiss to allow that discrepancy in Mark's education to remain, especially when she was so close to being a married woman. Mark was in the kitchen the rest of the day, feeding the fire and cleaning and cooking the fish (it was Friday). Margaret moaned about the easy life Mark must have had, as Albert choked on his ale, and vowed grimly that she would make sure Mark would do her James right. Mark smiled the whole time, knowing that she really did need to know how to cook the English way. She thanked Margaret often for the opportunity to learn, taking the wind out of her sails.

After supper, Albert taught Mark a couple of dances. Mark showed them a couple of Kathak dances with Margaret's help on the fiddle. Erin tried a few steps with her and after a few tries and a lot of laughter, she wasn't too bad. They sang some country songs together and Mark taught them an old 1960's song, "Little Red Riding Hood." They howled in laughter as they sang the chorus "owwwwwww!"

Just before Mark and Erin crawled in bed together, Mark began to cry. Erin instinctively went to her and held her in the candlelight. "What's wrong, Jayti?" Erin asked, worried about her near-sister.

"It's all right, Erin," she said, returning her hug. "I just haven't felt that safe or normal in years." Erin held her until she fell asleep.

The next afternoon, Albert gave them all a treat and took them to a bear-baiting. They left early to get good seats. It wasn't far, just across the bridge and then west to the smaller of two oval arenas; the larger was for the bull-baiting. Mark watched as men and women, clustered around a lean, hooked-nose man, took bets on the matches. Mark had heard about these things; a bear chained to a stake in the middle of the arena would fight a pack of bulldogs or mastiffs to the death or until the dogs gave up, which was rare. She had already seen bull fights in Madrid where mistakes had been made and the bull died in horrible, bloody pain, so she didn't expect anything she hadn't seen before.

They had good seats, almost in the front row. After a few days in London, Mark hardly noticed the body odors surrounding her. The bear tender brought the bear out using a stick with the chain already attached to its leg. He quickly attached the other end to the deep-set stake and left. The audience immediately began the jeers and taunting. One or two small objects were thrown into the arena. It wasn't long before the four bulldogs were released. They sprinted for the confused bear that rose to his full seven-foot height just as two of them hit him. Mark first noticed the size of them. These were no small bulldogs of the 21st century, suitable for small children; these were large dogs, born and bred to kill.

One leaped directly onto the nose and held on while another went for an ear. The bear roared in pain and anger; he was confused no longer. He managed to remove the dog on his nose with a swipe, leaving thick bloody stripes down its side. The crowd roared its approval. Margaret stomped her foot in disgust. She had bet on the dogs and was angry that the other two dogs had held back. Mark didn't see much to get upset about. When the dog was ripped off, a part of the bear's mouth had been torn away, exposing bloody teeth.

The injured dog didn't seem to mind the bleeding, although he looked bad. He went for the nose again. This time the bear was ready for it and blinded it in one eye with a well-timed strike. The other dogs had gotten involved by this time, and one had succeeded in tearing a large hole in the bears left calf. A quarter-hour and many attacks later, the blinded dog was dead and another seriously injured, but the bear was tiring from loss of blood. It could barely protect itself anymore and the dogs knew it.

They played with the bear, attacking in tandem until it finally seemed over. The bear rolled over on its side. One of the dogs went for the throat, but the bear still had some reserves left; he snatched it in mid-leap and pierced it with extended claws in both paws. The bear must have pierced a lung because the surprised dog died, gurgling in its own blood. Erin stood and screamed her approval, nudging Mark to her feet where she applauded carefully. That was the last gasp for the bear, though. It was too tired to defend itself when the last uninjured dog tore out its throat.

The audience shouted gleefully. There was no surprise here; the dogs usually won, but the match was closer than expected. The vendors ventured into the crowd as the bear was being dragged off, selling ale and pretzels. Two more matches went on that afternoon. Mark tried to get in the mood and enjoy the action. She felt like she was a little insane; the matches reminded her of professional wresting to the death, but she began to feel the excitement of the crowd. Though she could never cheer for the dogs, she cheered every nasty swipe to the head and stab to the gut. Today, she was a for-real 16th century woman!

They went home happy, holding hands and singing.

Mark left briefly to pick up the box she had made for the microscope. It was finished, and done well. She gave the man an extra vail, a tip, for the fine job. She would try it out that night using candlelight.

Margaret made Mark cook for them again to ensure she knew what she was doing. They went over recipes for different meat dishes until Mark had several memorized. When Mark passed out the salmon with apples and leeks and the pudding, she really hoped it was right. Margaret tasted it first and pronounced it more than adequate. Mark sat down and exhaled, only then realizing how much she had wanted her approval.

Late in the evening, Mark had a chance to attach the best glass ball to the box. She placed a candle where the mirror would reflect the light upward toward the lens and tested the focus screw, using a piece of cloth as a test piece. The cloth came abruptly into focus. It was dim; the light from the candle wasn't really adequate, but she estimated it was around 300 - 400X, strong enough to see large germs. She called Erin over for a look and then Albert and Margaret. "This is what I've had built these last few days."

Albert said slowly, "It's interesting. It makes small things look very large, but what good is it?" He looked at his wife, who shook her head in puzzlement.

"You'll see in a couple of weeks, hopefully."

Mark tried it the next day using a tiny amount of blood and a little smear from a nasty looking puddle. She was pleased. The crude microscope could easily pick out tiny moving objects in the puddle and see the platelets in her blood. She explained what this meant to Erin, about cells and germs and disease. She was slow to catch on; the whole idea was too strange. "This was the proof you were talking about to Sir Walter?" She asked.

"Yes. People in Europe thinks that disease is like a bad mist or miasma. They have no idea where it comes from. This can prove it comes from tiny living things. I didn't think of it, Erin, but hopefully I can explain it."

The next day was Sunday and Church. Mark went to church with the rest of the family, but didn't take communion. She felt odd about being left out, but after talking with a priest, they decided it wouldn't have been legal. "No sacrament is efficacious without understanding and faith." The priest had said. There was a clear undertone in his message; if she stayed in England long enough, she would have to convert, or be in serious trouble.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mark met Sir Walter by London Bridge with the microscope and several slides on Monday in the early afternoon. He took her hand and escorted her to a private room on the bridge overlooking the Thames and motioned for her gracefully to take a seat. "Sir Walter," she smiled. "I'm delighted you've decided to meet with me again."

He inclined his handsome head modestly. "Jayti, the more I learn about you the more intrigued I become, but right now, I am more concerned with this proof you offer me."

Mark acknowledged his impatience with a small nod. "Fair enough, Sir Walter. Let's get right to it, then. I want to show England three very important things: how to stop Smallpox, where the Black Death comes from and ways to reduce its effect, and how to reduce infections from wounds and surgery." She looked at him. "This will be difficult, because most people are taught that flies come from bad meat, rats are created from garbage, and disease is created from nothing, lack of faith or some other nonsense and they will need proof that they are wrong." She handed him a drawing of Louis Pasteur's famous experiment where he boiled two flasks of soup, but filtered the air coming back in one of the flasks. That flask remained unspoiled, proof that something in the air caused disease.

"Sir Walter, this demonstration has been done many times. I've done it myself, but I'm just a weak woman from a foreign land and nobody will take me seriously. A man or men with credibility would have to do the experiments for the results to be acknowledged."

Captain Raleigh laughed. "You are far from a weak woman, but I understand."

"The second part of the proof shows that there really are tiny things that exist that can cause disease and spoilage. That's what that box is for." She set up the box, pointing the opening at the window to attract the light. "It's called a microscope. It's crude, but it will see very small things." She put in a slide. "This is a sample of a stagnant pool of water, Sir Walter. Please, look through that hole and tell me what you see. Move the adjusting screw a little if you need to get the focus correct."

"There are things moving in there!"

"Yes, Sir Walter, there are. They live in the water, but they're so small, you can't see them. It's important to know that these tiny things that we can't even see are also in the air. We breathe them in with every breath. Almost all of these tiny things are harmless; some are a nuisance, but a few, like Smallpox and the Plague, are deadly. Most are too small to be seen with this microscope."

"Say I'm convinced. What does that have to do with stopping Smallpox?"

"Well, first you have to believe that very small things like germs do exist, then you have to believe that they cause diseases. Everyone knows that once you catch a disease, you can't catch it again. If you know all this, it's a small step to think that Cowpox, a similar disease to Smallpox, except in severity, could make you immune to Smallpox, enough to look into the possibility, at least. In this case, it's true. We can't cure Smallpox yet, but after catching Cowpox, we know it's impossible to catch Smallpox."

Sir Walter frowned as the implications hit him. "That's all? How sure are you?"

She smiled. He was asking the right questions. "Absolutely sure, Sir Walter. I'm willing to bet my life on it." She grinned at his expression. "Sir Walter, it's really not a risk. I know it works. Even the English farmers know it's true, although informally. There are country sayings that milkmaids don't catch Smallpox and that if you want a wife who will never have a scarred face, marry a milkmaid. It's mainly true. Milkmaids usually catch Cowpox at some time."

"You may also be interested to know, Sir Walter, that when rats have the Black Death, the rats give it to fleas. The rats die and the fleas abandon them for people and give it to them. There's no cure for the Black Death that we know of yet, but we know that if we keep the rat population low, the problem is reduced."

"Here's another nice tidbit for you. When surgery is done, or there's a wound, the skin is broken. This allows germs, infection, and diseases to enter the body easily. This happens most of the time when the doctor or midwife has dirty hands, or the blade has germs on it. There are ways to kill germs such as boiling clothes and sheets, and using alcohol on the hands."

She placed a pile of papers in front of him. "These are a list of demonstrations, exactly how to do them, and what they intend to prove. Perhaps you could have Oxford or Cambridge perform them. I leave that in your hands. If they do it properly and don't allow wounded pride to interfere with their findings, they should come to the same conclusions I've told you. If they do their job, it shouldn't take them more than a month: two weeks to do the experiments and two more weeks to repeat them when they don't believe the results. They'll need the microscope, too. I'll make another for you if you want to have two groups doing the same tests."

Sir Walter leafed through the documents, reading them closely and examining the diagrams. This took several minutes. He left his chair and looked out at the Thames, deep in concentration. Mark respected his silence. She knew what must be going through his mind. Eventually, he spoke. "If this is true, it's incredible knowledge. Jayti, I don't wish to look too closely at gifts from a beautiful woman, but why me?"

"You mean why you, instead of Essex or Leicester?" He nodded. "Actually, at first, I was thinking of approaching one of those gentlemen. They are, perhaps, more influential with the Queen, and I'm fairly sure either would serve as a suitable conduit. But then, a certain gentleman helped me change my coin when I needed assistance and asked for nothing in return, except to satisfy his curiosity about me. I know you by reputation, Sir Walter. You have a very high opinion of yourself, and you're not afraid of sharing your opinion with others." Mark held a hand up to stop his protestations. "I only mean to say that I recognize a kindred spirit. But underneath that arrogant exterior, lies a man of honor, someone I believe I can trust. It would please me greatly to see you benefit from this."

A little over a month later, Sir Walter sent a courier to the McFarlan household. The young man bowed to Mark, handing her a perfumed note. Sir Walter wished to set up a meeting with her at her earliest convenience, he told her. The courier would wait on her reply. She broke the paraffin seal and read the short sentences. The experiments were successful. She and James would be presented to the Queen at her current residence at Hampton Court in one week.

Chapter 21: A Test to Convince the Queen

Robert Deveroux, the Earl of Essex was worried. He had known his rival Captain Raleigh was up to something, sneaking furtively around between Court, London and Oxford. The man was insufferable at the best of times, but the knowing smirk that was lately planted on his sanctimonious puss was driving him mad.

His friends at Oxford weren't very helpful, either. They had been sworn to silence on a matter that they admitted Sir Walter had brought to them. Something about the origin of disease was as far as they would go. Doubtless, he would find out in Court when the arrogant bastard was ready.

* * * * * * * * * *

Margaret was the most surprised when her almost daughter announced that she would be presented to the Court. Somehow, she never took Mark's position as Representative of Mewar seriously, despite a feeling sometimes that she was more than she appeared. Suspiciously, neither her husband nor Erin was as excited as they should have been, which made her sure she was being left out of something important. This state of affairs would not be allowed to continue.

She snatched a large wooden spoon from the kitchen and whacked Mark sharply on the butt.

"Ow! Why did you do that?" Mark rubbed her bottom. 'That hurt, damn it!' She thought.

"That, for not telling me what's going on!" Margaret wound up for another swat.

Mark squealed. "Wait! Give me a chance to tell you!"

She told her adopted family about meeting Sir Walter at the moneychanger and some ideas about disease that she brought with her from India. She would explain her ideas in Court before the Queen, as well as try to gain certain privileges in England.

Albert looked at the ceiling. It was worse than he thought. The impetuous girl was at it again!

Mark saw the look. She spoke to them both. "Margaret, Albert, you've been my mother and father for so long here, I think of you that way, but I have to do my job! This isn't an adventure! The Maharana needs me to do my best. He's in a life and death struggle with the Emperor and I can't forget that." She turned to Margaret. "Mother, for I do think of you as my English mother, if I told you about meeting Sir Walter, you'd have grounded me. I don't like keeping you in the dark." She spread her hands. "But what choice did I have?" She saw Margaret pause. Impishly, Mark bent over, pointed her rear end at Margaret and wiggled it invitingly. "Go ahead, mother, beat your daughter if you feel she deserves it. She won't protest."

"Argh! Jayti, you're impossible." But she smiled when she returned the implement to the kitchen.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Jayti, I'm not really happy to be going to Court with you."

"Let me guess, Jim. You don't want to be recognized as a hero for my rescue. You don't want to wait in the background while I talk to the Queen about policy and you don't want to go shopping. Does that about cover it?"

Jim beamed. His bright, blue eyes shone with love. "You understand me so well."

"Well, let me tell you something, Jim. I really want you to go for purely selfish reasons. You don't have to prove anything to me, but I want to hold your arm as we walk in past the royalty and hold my head up proudly. I want the ladies at Court to look at the man next to them and wonder if he would jump in the water in the middle of a storm to save them. And, most of all, I want you to see me wear that beautiful, blue silk sari in the Court of England."

Jim smiled. There were many advantages to a woman who was so forward and honest; one of them was that it didn't waste time. "You do sound serious, future wife." He took her hands. "Of course I'll go. I'll always be proud of you, too, even if I will be known as Jayti's husband."

"And I swear, Jim," she cooed. "I'll do my best to make you forget your favorite sheep."

* * * * * * * * * *

Sir Walter met her by the bridge again, and they returned to the room to discuss the final details. He was jovial at first, pacing back and forth in front of the open window. "Well met, Jayti. You and James will be presented in the morning, about 9 o'clock. You will be in the back together. As you are announced, you will walk forward and stand before the Queen. You will curtsy and James will bow at the same time. I'll be there to tell the gripping story of James's rescue of his lady. You will look appropriately demure and rescued. The Queen will say some kind words and he will reply. You may say something and that part will be over. You will both retire until I call you forth again."

His demeanor suddenly grew more serious. "The next part is much more difficult. The experiments went well. There is now a split at Oxford with most of the scholars on your side. Most now admit the strong probability that diseases now come from these small germs. I can't tell you what an accomplishment that is. I confess I led them to believe the idea came from some important physician, perhaps here or on the continent, and I want them to declare their beliefs before the Court before I introduce you as the one having given me the experiments. Most want to try a plan of testing Cowpox and Smallpox on condemned criminals as soon as possible."

He stopped pacing and turned. His sword clanked as it brushed against the table. "As you well know, your appearance is against you. For this one day, I wish you were a stodgy buzzard with a gray beard. You'll have to be adroit and persuasive to have her Grace immediately approve this plan. I love my Queen, but she often has difficulty making up her mind. If her decision is delayed, it will be sent to her advisors and once it is known that I had a role in it, the plan could well be doomed."

He sat and placed his elbows on the table facing Mark. "We have one great advantage, surprise. There will surely be objections, perhaps from many corners. They may use one or many arguments to confuse the issue. You must be prepared for them all. For the rest of this afternoon, we will practice our strategy. You must be very careful what you say, Jayti. I have enemies in court that would destroy you to get at me."

* * * * * * * * * *

Mark hired a carriage for two days. It would take most of one day to travel to a nearby Inn in Surrey where it would be a short ride to Hampton Court in the morning. Jim and Mark spent the wonderful, bumpy, leisurely ride laughing and talking, looking at the scenery by the Thames. Erin was also with them, with her mother's reluctant consent. She would be allowed to enter as Sir Walter's guest and was beyond happiness. Still, the ride wasn't all it could have been. Jim knew Mark was unusually worried. Sir Walter had told her some things even she wasn't forthcoming about.

They arose in the early morning to get ready for Court. Mark helped Erin with her newly bought finery. First, Erin put on the shift, mainly there to protect the clothing from sweat. Next, came silk stockings held on with a garter just below the knee. The corset was strapped on with a whalebone brace insert in front for this special occasion. She was just a merchant's daughter, so she bypassed the hoopskirt. The kirtle and forepart to the kirtle completed the underpart of the dress.

Mark had practiced this with Erin beforehand, fortunately, so it went fairly quickly. The partlet went around her neck and over part of her breasts and included a small ruff. Finally, the gown was laced on and the sleeves were attached. Erin lay back on the bed while Mark put on her shoes. Her outfit, a thick luxurious light blue over dark blue ensemble, was finally on.

It was up to Erin, now. Erin applied the thick white lead base over her face and the visible areas of her breasts. She daubed vermilion for blush and coated her lips. Mark helped her with a thick gold necklace Erin had borrowed from her and, except for her dark blue matching hat with feather and gold hairpin, she was complete.

Mark was pleased. It had taken just over an hour.

Mark had to rely on Jayti's memories. She put on a full-length skirt with a drawstring and form-fitting short sleeved top that matched the dark blue of her sari. She tucked the sari in at her waist, starting from directly under her right shoulder, adjusting the length to the floor, gold trim side down. She went around her waist, pleating and tucking. Then, she folded the remaining fabric, making a pullo, and threw it over her it over her left shoulder, wrapped the excess around her body and tucked it in carefully. Finally, she pulled the excess pullo fabric over her left arm. Only her right arm was completely free, now. She put on her diamond bindi, gold bracelets, and necklace and looked at herself in the mirror. She was truly the Maharana's Representative today.

Jim met them outside. He was wearing a heavily embroidered dark blue doublet that matched Mark's sari, which was why, he now realized, she wanted to go shopping with him. His pants, hose, and long boots showed off his strong legs. His mouth dropped when he saw her. He had never seen her in a sari. Her long black hair was thrown to one side and her golden skin complemented the thick gold of her sari trim. "My God, Jayti, you're beautiful."

Erin nodded her head in affirmation. "Dear sister, there will be some jealous women inside."

Mark had her first look at Erin, made up and complete. "Erin, I think you're going to turn more than a few heads, yourself."

After they arrived, they were escorted across the bridge over the moat into the Base Court, a fair-sized courtyard immaculately kept, surrounded by a building of high, thick red brick walls with tall, elegant windows. There was still about a half-hour before they would be admitted to the Great Hall and the audience with the Queen. Mark, dressed in a sari, was an instant curiosity; most here had never even known of her existence.

A soberly dressed man in a black and purple robe broke the ice. He introduced himself as John Dee, the court astrologer for the Queen. Jim took the lead and introduced them all. The old man's smile and calm speech belied his grim appearance. Amazingly, he had actually heard of Rana Pratap, unusual in the extreme because of so few western visitors to the area, and was fascinated by the descriptions of Akbar's Empire. He was the first of several visitors. Lady Candos, Francis Clinton, approached the three in a thick dress, a large ruff, and very puffy sleeves.

The woman's initial problem was placing them on the social scale. After explaining that her father was a landowner and had indentured servants, Mark was at first placed among the gentry, although being the Representative of the Maharana made her status more ambiguous. The large diamond over her forehead decided the matter; it was bigger than anything she had. Lady Cantos treated her at just a rank below herself and passed the word.

Mark was very happy to see Jim handle himself so well. As a member of a trade mission to a distant country and as a man bringing back such a rich, exotic beauty of high class, men and women treated him with respect, although not as a member of any rank. Erin was having a good time as well. She was dressed as a member of the merchant class, but some of the young lords were giving her glances that did wonders for her ego and a few even introduced themselves. It would take several scoldings from her mother to wipe that self-important look from her face after she returned home.

The time had come to move into the Great Hall. Rank was important. When an uncertain courtier asked her position, she indignantly told the man she was a Rajput. They put her with the minor nobility and allowed Jim and Erin to stay with her.

She had a chance to look around. The Great Hall was well named. It wasn't great in size, but it was very tall and had magnificent hammer-beamed ceilings and extraordinary tapestries. The women were quite often beautiful in strange ways. There were several common themes, derived mainly from imitating the look of the Queen: some women shaved as much as an inch from their hairlines and wore wigs, or had their hair dyed a reddish-blond color. Stiff corsets were pretty, in their way, and the wonderful fabrics they used went from embroidery to velvet to furs. The white base paint on the ladies' faces was everywhere, although some faces showed signs of skin damage. No matter how hard she tried, Mark could never reconcile herself completely to the Elizabethan standard of beauty; their ideal woman seemed to have tuberculosis.

The men ranged from young to very old, but were generally in fine condition and distinguished. She reminded herself that so many of the Tudor family and their associates would come to bad ends, or did come to bad ends in her timeline. Behind this fancy dress lurked plots and betrayals. She noticed a man staring at her from near the back of the room, his placement meaning he was of very high rank. He was a fairly good-looking younger man with dark brown eyes and a mustache. Sir Walter had described him earlier. This was the Duke of Essex, Robert Devereux and Sir Walter's worst enemy.

Trumpets blared. The Royal Guards cleared everyone behind a line. The Queen was about to enter the Hall. Mark wasn't in a position to see her arrive. Her first clue was the bowing and curtsying. She had practiced this until it had become second nature, and in her excitement, it served her well. Her heart raced. She had seen Akbar's Darbar several times, but only from a distance. The arrival of Elizabeth I made it quite clear; she would have to do very well today in front of a legendary Queen for her hopes to be realized. She felt, rather than saw her pass. She didn't dare lift her eyes until she saw the people next to her rise.

Mark first saw the Queen as she was seated in a large, red, square-backed throne set on a dais in the very back of the chamber. The wall tapestry, the objects around her, and even the placement of people put her very definitely as the center of attention.

She was dressed in very thick, elegant, purple velour gown over a hoop skirt and very thick arms pieces with a many-flowered design of a general blue to green. Her thin diaphanous ruff extended more than a foot around her neck, giving her a deliberate halo. Red hair was tightly curled in rows in a vertical semicircle over her head. Her eyes were small, but kind and her nose was narrow with a slight hook. Royal trappings surrounded her including a long neck-piece, thick with large pearls following her contours almost to the floor. Queen Elizabeth exuded the heavy feel of pomp and ceremony.

There was an agenda. An announcer called persons forward to discuss business, settle disputes or once, to be praised and awarded land. Mark tried hard to get a feel for it. The men seemed to use excessive flattery, which the Queen apparently enjoyed. The Queen was quite alert and well informed, but sometimes seemed capricious. She even spat once at a man's feet and demanded he leave the hall for some unknown discourtesy. Mark could only hope to play it straight and honest and hope for the best.

Finally, their names were called. She forced herself to give Jim a smile of encouragement and stepped forward. They walked together and Mark knew she was getting the bulk of attention in her sari. She reminded herself she was a Rajput. They stopped together; she curtsied and he bowed. It couldn't have been choreographed better.

Sir Walter appeared from the side and told the tale of heroism and bravery with very few embellishments, not that it needed any. She couldn't help herself. She looked at Jim with great pride and love as the tale was being told. The Queen was impressed. She asked Jim if the story was correct. He replied that he thought the seas were nearer to 50 ft than 70, but other than that, it was accurate.

The Queen was interested in the survival box and asked for details from Jim. He answered as best he could, but referred the question back to Mark, as it was her idea. A few more questions and she gave Jim a gracious thank you from the Queen to an extremely brave and resourceful Englishman. As they walked back to their places in the assembly, Mark was once again proud to see respect for Jim in some of the nobility, from both the men and women.

She waited another half-hour for her part to come. Two doctors from Oxford in scholar's robes and hats were called forward to explain the findings of certain experiments they had conducted. They did so and requested the Queen's approval to use condemned criminals to experiment with Cowpox and Smallpox. As Sir Walter expected, an immediate argument broke out. One of the court physicians was a holdout for the spontaneous generation theory of life and was extremely vocal in his opposition. The others angrily declared that he was wrong and he must accept the evidence of his eyes, etc. The Queen put up her hand and control was immediately restored.

She looked to her side and asked her advisors what they thought of it. No one was familiar with the controversy except, of course, Sir Walter. He told the Queen that he had sent the experiments to the University to determine if it was feasible to eliminate Smallpox from England. What he had heard so far, he stated, was most encouraging. He suggested that the Queen approve the doctors' request. A low level of chatter passed through the room. Everyone wanted to get rid of Smallpox, especially the women who lived in constant fear of terrible disfigurement.

"Walter, where did you receive these experiments?" Asked the Queen.

Sir Walter bowed. "From the Representative from Mewar, your Grace."

The Queen asked something of Sir Walter in a low voice. The Queen nodded. "Please come forward, Representative Jayti Singh."

Show time. She felt all eyes on her this time as she presented herself before the Queen.

"What name do you prefer, Representative Singh?"

"Jayti, your Grace."

"What do you know of this, Jayti."

She told her about the new knowledge they had in Mewar and that she wished to give it to England. It was too important to keep. The experiments didn't originate with her, but she had performed them and they were valid. Cowpox would prevent Smallpox, but she knew no one would believe this without independent verification.

A cultured voice from close by mocked her. "Your Grace, this is just a girl. She doesn't know anything. She even fell overboard and had to be rescued. She's just passing along useless dreams to make fools of us. Our best doctors and members of the church say what she says is nonsense!"

'Careful,' she thought. 'Be cool.' Underneath, she was fuming. "Your Grace, may I be permitted to reply to the ... gentleman?"

"Lord Essex."

"Lord Essex, you may argue how I fell overboard if you wish. It changes nothing. The experiments work. The next logical step is to test. The doctors and members of the church you mentioned didn't conduct the tests and neither did you."

"Jayti, are you a Christian?"

'Oh, no. He's not getting me into that one.' She was prepared. "You know I am not, but I'm learning the Bible and I will convert when my future husband wishes. I would be glad to discuss religion with you, but is the Court a proper venue? Really, Lord Essex, shouldn't we be talking about eliminating Smallpox?"

"It is one thing to speak of such things," spoke Lord Essex. "It is another to act. You wouldn't have a problem being a part of the test, then, would you?"

Here we go. He fell right into her hands. He made it a personal challenge. "Absolutely not, Lord Essex," she replied immediately. "I am absolutely confident and I'm willing to put my life and face on the line for it. This is just too important to ignore, or to play politics with."

'Your Grace." Interrupted a voice in the back. "I would like to volunteer for the test, too." It was Jim. Somehow, she wasn't surprised. His lack of protocol and rudeness was countered by his message; no one protested his outburst.

"And I also, your Grace." It was Sir Walter.

Mark stared at him. This wasn't a part of the plan they had discussed. When he spoke, one of the Ladies in Waiting gasped. Mark looked at her. She was a very attractive woman in her early twenties. She took a mental note of who Elizabeth Throckmorton was, while the Queen decided to approve the Oxford doctors' plan.

* * * * * * * * * *

The test was conducted with twenty condemned highwaymen. Along the lines of 16th century jurisprudence, they weren't given a choice. They would be the test group. Ten would be given the Cowpox inoculations and ten would not. Regardless of whether they survived the test, they would die.

Mark didn't trust Lord Essex. According to history, he had been hanged for treason. In her mind, he could be capable of almost anything. Lord Essex might try to do something nasty, such as fake the inoculation and give them something that would just cause a fever. She warned Sir Walter and Jim to be watchful.

The infected cow was nowhere in sight as the doctor prepared to infect them with what he said was Cowpox. Sir Walter was suspicious and insisted that Mark do the inoculations. The doctor was angry and probably, justifiably so, but he did as Sir Walter directed and allowed her to scratch the underside of the forearm with material straight from the infected cow's lesions on her udder. She finished the inoculations for everyone, including the selected condemned men. Several doctors from Oxford and a few other interested physicians watched her closely.

In a few days, they all came down with mild fevers and general weakness. About half, including Mark, suffered a few small lesions on her hands that cleared up after a couple of weeks. Everyone recovered easily and was pronounced healthy and ready for the real test.

They chose an old farmhouse in the country in middle Sussex, ten miles south of Hampton Court. All the guards and the doctor in residence were previous victims of Smallpox, some with truly horrible scarring. The convicts were put into two rooms of ten apiece; each room mixed together with 5 inoculated and 5 non-inoculated prisoners. Mark, Sir Walter, and Jim would be housed in a separate room, although not locked up like the rest. No one would be allowed from the farmhouse grounds until the disease had run its course for everyone.

They didn't have long to wait. In less than a week, the guards brought in two men and a woman. The woman went into Mark's room. She was in the beginning stages of the disease and was quite frightened. Some men in the other rooms started screaming when they saw who had been brought in, even though they knew why they were there. Mark felt little sympathy for the men; they had given their victims no choice when they had robbed and killed them. Some of the men wouldn't stop screaming until Sir Walter promised the condemned to deliver 10 pounds, a large sum of money for most people of that day, to everyone's family after they were executed if they would just shut up and behave themselves. The noise ceased for a long while.

Mark tried her best to save the young woman. Her name was Gertrude Norris and she was from south of London. The poor woman had lesions on her face, hands, forearms, trunk, and especially on her palms of her hands and the soles of her feet. Mark kept her as comfortable as she could, wiping her face down with a cool rag and gaving her fluids. They all watched helplessly, as the lesions filled with fluid and then pus. The next week would tell. Mark remembered reading somewhere that most people who died of Smallpox did so during the second week.

Mark asked the doctor what else she could do to help. He shook his head in helpless resignation. He wasn't unsympathetic, but he'd been through epidemics and had seen too many people die, despite everything they had tried.

The next week was hell for the poor girl. The girl's face was covered with small pustules and they were ready to break. Her fever brought her near death. The pustules finally started erupting, bringing a large portion of the underlying skin with it, leaving the skin slick with oozing, stinking nastiness. Her screaming was an agony for the rest who had to live in the farmhouse. They all took turns caring for her. As the only woman, Mark volunteered to wipe her body clean, but it was disgusting and terrifying. She had to remind herself constantly that Jenner's work with Cowpox was already proven. She couldn't get away fast enough to wash herself off with soap and water. Finally, the scabs formed after another week. Gertrude would live, but her beauty was gone. She would have deep pits all over her face and body for the rest of her life.

Sir Walter turned out to have a soft spot for Gertrude. He had taken his turn caring for her with Mark and Jim. When he learned that her parents had died and she had no home to return to and few prospects with her beauty gone, he offered her employment at his estate in Surrey. She gratefully accepted.

This would be the time where new Smallpox patients would be appearing. The incubation cycle was usually about two weeks after being infected. Sure enough, the other rooms started the cycle over with half of them. The fever, the first sign, was just beginning. They had to live through the appalling process again, this time with new patients. Four very long weeks later, the test was over. All the non-treated patients caught the disease and four of the ten died. The rest were scarred to a greater or lesser extent. No one else caught it.

The person who was the most emotional was the doctor. He cried with joy for having seen the beginning of the end of the terrible scourge and cried with grief for the all the victims of the past. Everyone who went through those seven weeks understood what he felt.

Sir Walter, Mark, and Jim made a solemn pact to be friends after the horrible ordeal.

Towards the end, when it was clear Sir Walter wasn't going to catch the disease, Mark talked to him. Sir Walter was an enigma. He didn't have to volunteer. She had read somewhere, that his life was like a stage where he would play a role for a scene of his own choosing, but maybe that wasn't giving his bravery the credit it deserved.

"Sir Walter, I want to thank you for volunteering for this. It was very brave of you. I knew it would work and Jim trusts me, but you had the most reason to fear. I won't forget this."

He snorted. "Hah! After what you did with Lord Essex? It was sight to behold. You didn't hesitate for an instant when he dared you to be a part of the test. The Queen had Smallpox when she was a young woman and must still remember vividly the woman's special terror of being disfigured. You didn't see her face, but I could almost see the thoughts behind it. For a beautiful woman to risk such a fate deliberately with such confidence had to have been very compelling for her. And for me, too, I must admit."

"I don't believe you completely, Sir Walter. I saw the strain on you until it was clear you were immune. It was a brave act and it had honor." She paused; this next part could get touchy. "If you want some advice from a friend who sees a little of herself in you, I would get away from court and settle down. After this is over, you're going to be very popular everywhere, but in court. You should take your acres in Ireland and live life to the fullest. Again, from one friend to another, I've seen how your arrogance has made you disliked, but you don't need them, Sir Walter. Why don't you take your wife, Elizabeth Throckmorton and leave?"

Sir Walter's mouth dropped. "What? How did you know?"

"Don't worry, Sir Walter I'll never tell. In fact, I doubt anyone else knows. I watched the looks you gave her and heard the gasp she made when you volunteered. You just confirmed my suspicions." She smiled, remembering when Hassan had done that to her so long ago. "You're in a fix, you know. When she gets pregnant, as you know eventually will happen, the game will be up. You can imagine the rage of the Queen when she finds out who the father is."

She smiled and took the hand of the worried man. "Or, Sir Walter, it could play to your advantage. I don't know whether or not you've been making love to the Queen and I don't care. But I'll just bet that if I describe the nasty parts of this episode, and put you in the middle of the Smallpox infested gore, the Queen would never be able to look at you as a potential intimate partner again."

Sir Walter thought about it briefly. "And if I'm that disgusting to her, but she feels guilty about treating a hero shabbily..."

"Exactly! She might well just give you your heart's desire. I'd be glad to spread the news of your revolting nastiness, Sir Walter. Just say the word, and I'll play it anyway you like."

They were celebrated as heroes when they were finally released. They burned their clothes, cleaned themselves very thoroughly in lye soap and water, and put on new ones. Mark was very pleased to learn her suggestions about cleanliness and the elimination of rats to prevent the plague were being taken seriously.

Mark was honored before the Court again; this time in Windsor Castle, as the Queen was on her annual summer pilgrimage. This time, Mark managed to give her Grace the set of three matching diamonds Rana Pratap had given her. The Queen granted her unusual request for an order giving Mark permission to ask anyone anything about metallurgy, alchemy, gun making, or anything else concerning skills or manufacture. She silenced the grumbling of the heads of certain Guilds with a stern look.

Mark was granted additional time to praise Sir Walter's actions at the farmhouse in open court. She described in vivid detail, the gore and pus that he was up to his elbows in while caring for the life of innocents. The Smallpox she described in great detail, as she wanted to make sure his valiant actions were put into full context. Three women fainted dead away, as well as one man. The Queen was certainly no shrinking violet. She was known to have had people murdered when necessary and she enjoyed bear baiting, but the look on the Queen's face was satisfactory; Sir Walter was ruined as a lover.

There was one other change; Mark now had to call Jim, Sir James.

Chapter 22: The Banns

Several days after the officially recognized wedding of Sir Walter and Elizabeth Throckmorton, Sir James and Mark were invited to a visit with the Raleighs at their country home in Surrey, not far from Hampton Court.

They came by coach, arriving in the late afternoon after their driver fought the mud and ruts caused by the recent wet, dreary weather. As estates went, it was modest. The two-story gray, stone house on the rise looked to be only large enough to house the Raleighs and several servants. The driver pulled up to the front and James helped Mark exit the coach without too much of the muck getting on her elegant blue dress. Sir Walter and Elizabeth met them at the front; the driver continued on to the stables to put up the horses.

As a maid wiped mud from her clothing and shoes, and the men greeted each other, Elizabeth graciously welcomed Mark into the house. They had met each other briefly at the wedding, but this was the first opportunity they had to talk. Her husband had told her of the role she had had in their marriage and indeed, she was at court when Mark described the horrible events at the farmhouse. After a few minutes, it was plain that they would be friends. Mark knew that she was a brave woman to have married Sir Walter in the first place, knowing that she would almost certainly be thrown in the tower when they were found out. It had happened in Mark's timeline. She genuinely loved him.

Elizabeth had an adventurous streak. Mark's tales of India and her adventures produced looks of envy and many questions. Mark, in turn, was fascinated about life behind the scenes at court. Elizabeth was smart, too. It hadn't occurred to many people what effect the new sanitation measures during birth would have. She knew it would cause a population explosion. And that, she commented, would have a great effect on England, straining her resources.

Mark knew it, too. She'd gradually been identifying with women more and more since experiencing her first period. She knew she was a baby factory now and would live with the consequences of her actions in that area more then men would. Although she loved Jim, and understood him from her memories as a man, it was women like Erin and Elizabeth she really related to. Mark understood the fear of birth now, and the lack of independence and respect inherent in being a woman in this world was wearing. She would change it if she could. She took a gamble.

"Beth, what if I told you there was an easy and fairly safe way to stop women from having babies when they didn't want to?"

Beth looked at her with surprise, wondering where she was going with this. "There already is, Jayti." Beth smiled shyly. "The problem is that you have to think ahead. You and I both know, that can be very difficult at times."

"What I meant was something that a woman didn't have to think about. Until she wanted to have babies and decided to, she wouldn't. There is such a thing. It's called an IUD. It's a very simple thing and it goes in here." She pointed. "A women can't have babies until it's taken out. It has to be put in and taken out by a doctor, or perhaps a midwife who knows what she's doing, but it works very well. Think of the implications if such a thing were available to all."

Elizabeth laughed. "Well, the drabs in the shugging dens would certainly be pleased. The Papists would be up in arms. Except for the most religious, the women would like it very much indeed." She thought for a time. "Maybe, even most of the men. It can make a family poor and the settlement of estates difficult when there are too many children." She frowned. "You really know of such a device?" Mark nodded. Elizabeth's right eyebrow lifted a tad. "Well, then. There are a great many sides to this. I should have to think further."

"Of course, Beth."

At dinner, Mark didn't mind that most of the conversation went from Sir Walter to Sir James and the ladies were ignored. Ladies were expected to have their own interests outside the male realm. They certainly did. Mark could tell Elizabeth was thinking hard.

* * * * * * * * * *

They stayed for two days. The weather cleared up long enough for Jim and Mark to take several long walks together, to just sit, relax and laugh, to talk about whatever they wanted. On one such walk in the early afternoon of the second day, Mark knew that Jim was preoccupied, but didn't think much of it. There were so many things yet to do, so much to think about.

"Jayti, I've always wondered. Why do you say you're a Hindu? You told me you were raised a Unitarian, whatever that is."

"It's a kind of Protestant with very few rules. I suppose I say I'm Hindu because there's so much Jayti in me. She was always more religious then I was, and I felt it. I'm comfortable praying in the morning. It feels right." Mark looked at Jim. "The person I am now is a real mix. Sometimes, I really feel like a 17 year-old girl and sometimes, I feel like I have so many responsibilities that it almost overwhelms me. Jayti was the same way."

Mark put her hands apart and slowly put them together. "We had different personalities and our approach to things was different, but the way we thought about things grew closer and closer. You know, she would have loved you, Jim." She forced a smile. "We discussed marrying a person just like you before you and I even met."

Jim took her hands. "Jayti, will you marry me?"

"You're asking me now? After all this time?" Her eyes moistened and she turned away.

He took her in his arms. "Why are you crying?"

"Because, you idiot, I was waiting to be asked for so long. I was always happy to know you wanted to marry me, but it's not the same as being able to say 'yes' or 'no'. She backed off and looked at him. "Hmm. Maybe I should say 'no'."

"Oh, Jayti," he smiled. "I know you. You're never serious at such moments."

She smiled ruefully. He did know her. "Oh course, I'm going to say 'yes'. Yes, Jim, Sir James. I'll marry you!" She waited for him to put the diamond ring on her right hand, the engagement hand. She kissed him long and hard. She paused. "You still haven't asked me to convert."

"And I won't, future wife. I'm not saying it'll be easy, but if you don't want to be baptized, I'll find a place where we can both live in peace and to hell to all who would deny it to us."

Mark hugged him for a long time. He could feel her tears dampening his shirt. "That was very gracious of you Jim, but I'll be baptized as soon as I can. Saying I'm a Protestant, I can live with. They don't kill you if you drink or show your backside to a priest. I've seen how you English worship. After the required, very boring three-hour sermon, you go to the pub and become maltbugs. You drink "dragon's milk", "go-by-the-wall", "the mad dog" or "lift leg" and nobody cares. I don't think anyone but a bishop, a Puritan or a Catholic would truly care if I say a Hindu prayer in the morning as long as I don't advertise it."

"So, when would you like to be baptized?"

"As soon as possible, Sir James. I want to be married as soon as possible, too."

Jim smiled, wondering if she would ever let him live that down. "I didn't ask to be knighted, you know, and the Queen was kind enough to give me that land close to Plymouth."

She sneered. "She had to give you land, Jim. As a knight, you now have obligations to feed the poor and use your land to pay taxes to the Crown. You ducked my implied question. When are we getting married?"

"If you're baptized this Sunday, you can be married in Plymouth, with my family attending, in five weeks on a Saturday. That is the absolute minimum time we could be married. The banns have to be read for three consecutive Sundays in both parishes or the wedding won't be legal. How does that sound?"

Mark kissed him again. "That seems all right. I have to visit a few places in London to get information for the books. I should be done in a couple of weeks or so. There are so many plans to make! I know Albert will want to give me away and Margaret and Erin will need to be there. Will we get there in time for me to get to know your family?"

"Albert and his family will take a carriage in three weeks. It will take them over a week to get there over bad roads. Oh, by the way, they already know about the wedding. When they leave by carriage, we will take the cat and be there a week before them. You'll have over a week to get to know my family."

"You already told Albert about the wedding? Well I'm not angry; this is too happy a day, but Jim, the cat..."

Jim raised his hand in a calming gesture. "I listened to your "bitchin' and moanin'" as you call it, about the wet ride the cat is in heavy seas all the way up the African coast. It's been completely refitted and repainted. It now has windows and a canvas cabin; I raised the main a bit to make room. It will do fine and we'll be dry for the three days. The alternative is suffering over a week on very bad roads." He swept his hat from his head and bowed elegantly. He'd been watching Sir Walter. "Which do you prefer, my love?"

* * * * * * * * * *

A little over three weeks later, they rounded Stoke Point and headed north into Plymouth Sound. It was a clear day and the seas were low. Jim pulled down the canvas cabin and pointed out the sights as they came in. They saw Redding point to the left and several cannon guarding the harbor on both sides of the channel. The Island ahead with fortifications and guns was St. Nicholas Island. They passed it on the port side and entered a channel past a group of small cliffs and a large fort Jim called the Hoe. A small drawbridge guarding the harbor was down and Jim had to reef the sails and yell his name and business to pass through.

He waved to the man, who recognized him and jeered in a good-natured way at the strange craft. There were several available docks in the small harbor to the left. Jim pulled into the smallest that could hold the 25 ft vessel. Mark could see orderly rows of three-story stone and wood houses and shops lining the harbor and streets beyond. A stone church with a high steeple lay at the far end. Several working-class people walked the cobblestone section of the dock by the water, many stopping to take a look at the cat. Jim yelled at a blond, handsome, teenage boy walking the dock. His head turned and he suddenly ran towards the boat when he saw Jim. He stopped at the dock and nearly fell in when he saw Mark.

"Jayti," said Jim, "This is my brother Eric." They were home.

Jim tied off the cat and helped Mark up the stairs by the dock. Eric and Jim carried the waterproofed bags. The Penningtons lived on the row nearest the dock just a few houses down. The entire lower floor of the house was dedicated to sailmaking. It had five long heavy beams running the length of the house buttressed in the middle by large columns. This allowed for the necessary space to make and repair large mainsails. Jim didn't get far. Eric shouted to his father, a large, fit man in his late forties, who was busy measuring canvas on a broad table.

His father dropped what he was doing and grabbed Jim's shoulders with his large hands. He smiled at his son who he hadn't seen for two years. "Boy there are so many things to talk about. I heard the Queen knighted you!" Then, he saw Mark. His smile grew. "You must be Jayti. I'm very pleased to meet you. Sir James seems to be tongue-tied at the moment. I'm Sterling Pennington."

She smiled her best. "I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Pennington. I see where Jim gets his good looks."

He chuckled. "We'll get along fine." He waved to the rest of the workers making sails. "Come on over here. Come meet your new sister-in-law!" They lined up in loose formation. He pointed them out in order. "This tall, serious one is my oldest, Frank. He'll run this place when I'm gone." He pointed to a smaller man with brown hair. "The next oldest is Thomas here. He has a wife, Judith and they live down the street. And these are two of my daughters, Jill," a very pretty blond girl about 18 nodded and smiled, "and Jenna." A shorter, younger, and more buxom girl waved tentatively.

"The rest of my family is either married off, or at school." He gestured to Mark. "This is Jayti Singh. She comes all the way from India, but you know that already. You can all talk to her later. Now get back to work."

"Good afternoon," said Mark loudly as they turned.

Mr. Pennington shook his head sadly. "Certes Jim, your letter didn't do her justice. She's absolutely stunning, even if she does look Italian." He grinned, revealing a gap in his front teeth. "Come on upstairs and meet the wife. She's anxious to meet you." He took her hand and they ascended the stairs together.

Mark looked at Jim helplessly. This was going so fast and she hadn't had time to say more than a few words. Mark rolled his eyes. "That's my father, Jayti. He's a storm on a calm day."

Mark smelled the bread before she reached the first floor. Jim's mother was in her mid forties, but not the worn-out woman she had imagined after ten children. Her face was lined around the eyes, but her eyes were bright and clear. If she had gray in her hair, she still moved easily with the large, heavy pans of what smelled like wheaten bread. It reminded her that she hadn't eaten in several hours.

Jim's father went in first. "Matilda, look who's here!" She turned and saw Mark and Jim entering the room.

"Wait! Wait a moment!" She lay the pans on some bricks to cool. She hugged her son and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Welcome home, son. We'll talk later." She said. She went to Mark and looked at her for some time, examining her face, hair and clothes. Mark felt like opening her mouth so she could check her teeth; she hadn't been inspected so closely since the eunuchs at the Palace in Lahore.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Pennington." Mark finally said. "I'm Jayti Singh."

"Um, yes. I don't doubt that for a minute." She finally smiled at her. Apparently, she had passed. "Can you cook?" She asked.

"Yes, I can cook most things." This was something she could do. She took off her cloak; it was hot in the kitchen. "Would you allow me to help you?"

This was too much for Jim. "Mother, she just got off the boat 10 minutes ago. You can't just put her to work."

"Really Jim, it's fine. I'm not tired." It was the truth. She wasn't and if her future mother-in-law wanted to test her, she was going to pass. They finished the large meal together, talking about Jim, the family, and most of her non-harem life in India. Two hours later, Mark had learned a lot about Jim including a few embarrassing incidents in his youth.

As in most English homes, the mother served the family at dinner. Mark tried to help, but this time, she and Jim were the guests of honor and her help was refused. The topics they would discuss with the family were determined beforehand by Mark and Jim. They wouldn't say anything about the harem, not too many details about the Smallpox incident and nothing about fighting bandits in India, at least, not until after the wedding. Representing the Maharana and the rescue off of Madagascar was fine, because it was the most believable.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sleeping arrangements were simple. The women and girls were separated from the men and boys. Mark was fortunate this time to have her own bed. The girls talked late into the night. Mark told them that she really did talk to the Queen and that Jim really had been knighted for acts of bravery and service to England. After a while, she grew annoyed at their obstinate refusal to believe that their brother was a hero.

"In the morning, go down to the docks and look at that funny split boat in the first port. Your brother built that boat with his own hands after he jumped in the water to save my life during a storm 30 miles off Madagascar! We sailed it around the Horn and all the way to the Ivory Coast! I was there!"

Jenna broke the silence after her outburst. "I believe you, Jayti."

Jill said. "I believe you, too."

A few minutes later.

"Jayti?" It was Jill.

"Yes?"

"I'm glad you're marrying him. He loves you, too, you know. I've seen him look at you. Oh, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"The walls are thin. I don't doubt everyone in the house heard you."

"Great."

* * * * * * * * * *

They walked to St Andrews Church that Sunday. It wasn't difficult to make out; the large, square steeple stood out from its surroundings. This was the church she would be married in next weekend. Plymouth wasn't a large town and everyone wanted to get a look at the new woman. She smiled at the ladies and acknowledged the men. These people would probably be her neighbors some day. The sermon was not as bad as she expected. This preacher at least, seemed to get through it well enough, and had none of the condescending pontification of the jerk she had to suffer through in her London parish. She happily took communion with the rest. There is more than one way to salvation, she reminded herself. She was double covered in any case; she had done her mantra this morning before she left.

At the end of the sermon, just before ending the service, she heard the last call for reasons why she and Jim should not be married, the banns. She had forgotten that this was the last week of it. She was serene. Next week, she would be married.

"I have something to say!" shouted a man towards the back. "This woman is a liar and a fraud! She is unfit to be married in this church!"

Mark's face went white. Despite her embarrassment, she managed to look around. Most people were staring. Jim's family was in shock. The liked her and now they didn't know what to think. In the depths of anger and despair, resolve began to form. She would fight this somehow.

* * * * * * * * * *

Jim put his mug down on the kitchen table and glared at his father. "I'm telling you, it's true. Jayti did give Oxford the experiments. She gave them to Sir Walter, and he passed them on."

His father spread his hands helplessly. "Jim, that's not what the news is. Oxford is claiming credit for discovering that Cowpox prevents Smallpox. They say that it was one of their own that did it. I'm afraid she's taken you in. I won't have a liar marrying my son."

Jim's could feel the heat rise to his face. "Father, I was there at Court when Sir Walter told the Queen where the experiments came from. Jayti explained that she brought them from India. She told me what she was doing beforehand. It's all true, father."

"Son, did you actually see these experiments and this microscope of hers?"

"No, but she told me about them before it was ever brought up in Court. She's not a liar, father!"

Mr. Pennington looked at his son, sympathetically. "If it were up to me, son, I might let you marry, but Will Person heard me brag about Jayti from what I read about her in your letter. He swears that the doctor, the one who gave the Cowpox inoculations last week, says that Jayti had nothing to do with the experiments. We heard her state the opposite in our own home. It's a serious charge. With her being a foreigner, and only lately joining the church, it looks bad."

"So, father, 'It looks bad' does it? Well, father, this is really going to hurt her. Is the doctor still here?"

"No. But now she has to prove she was the author of the experiments or get someone like Sir Walter Raleigh to say under oath that he had the documents from her. From what you say, he's on his way to Ireland. You realize, we can't have her in our house until this matter is cleared up?"

Jim's voice dripped bitterness. "How convenient for the doctor. As for Jayti staying at the house, I don't think you have to worry about that; she wouldn't want to be under a roof that didn't want her for any longer than it took to pack her things. I'd be surprised if she was there now, the looks she's been getting." He hesitated. "I'm not staying either, father. I don't 'think' she is telling the truth, I 'know' she is."

Jim sighed deeply. "Father, put yourself in her position. The family that she was going to marry into has abandoned her on the word of a stranger, despite her word and the word of her betrothed. Even when the truth comes out, she will remember that. Oh, she'll forgive you all on the surface and even try hard to patch things up for my sake, but deep down, she'll know what side you chose when her honor was on the line. In a very real sense, this family is on trial, not her."

"Son, we've done nothing wrong. We have our own honor to protect."

"Really, father? She knows me and trusts me. She sees you disbelieving both of us on what we both know is a flimsy lie. This family isn't taking the honorable way; it's taking the easy way! You have no idea how much she values honor, father. You may think that she is just a girl, and mother may think that she is just an extra hand in the kitchen, but she is much, much more. The Maharana of Mewar, the ruler of a country the size of Scotland, and strong enough to fight off the most powerful Empire in the world, has put his complete trust in her. She is a Rajput, a member of the ruling class."

Jim's father was silent.

Jim looked up at his father, alarmed. "There is something else to worry about.
What would you do if someone had impugned your honor, father? Would you rest and hope that your name would be cleared quickly, or would you take action to clear your name as fast as possible?"

"She's a woman in a strange place. What could she do?"

Jim's eyes flashed. "What could she do?" Jim gradually relaxed and sank into a chair. "Well, father, I can understand your reaction. That's what everyone thinks the first time they see her. They don't see what's beneath."

He laughed suddenly, surprising his father. "The solution is to put yourself in her place. She almost always does the most direct, brave, and daring thing possible. She will probably meet with her accuser, and... Oh, Jesus, I think I know what she's going to do! Father, if you want to see your daughter-in-law, you will come with me. I just hope for your sake, we aren't too late!

* * * * * * * * * *

"Hello, Mr. Person, I'm Jayti Singh."

"I know who you are, Miss Singh. I'm not going to retract the banns, so you're just wasting your time."

"Mr. Person, I'm not going to ask you to retract the banns unless you're convinced that I'm innocent. All I'm asking is that you give me the chance to prove it to you. Is that so unfair?"

"I don't have time for this, Miss Singh."

"Very well, Mr. Person, I'll speak quickly. I believe you are being used. This is personally embarrassing to me, but it won't matter in the end. Whatever you have been told is a lie. I don't know who it was, and I don't care. I suspect someone is trying to enact some petty revenge for what happened at court, but I admit I have no proof. At any rate, the truth will come out. I believe you are an honorable person and so I will deal with you honorably. You have a choice to make. If you are absolutely sure that your source is completely honest, then stay here.

"If you have any doubts, then you should come with me today, before any real damage is done. The only way I can prove my innocence is for you to meet someone in London. There is enough time to get there and back for the wedding in the boat I arrived in. It's up to you, Mr. Person. I think we both know the consequences of being wrong. I will wait for you at the docks until noon."

* * * * * * * * * *

When Jim and his father arrived at the docks, they saw the cat round the first bend. They ran to the drawbridge, shouting for the tender to stop them. They were just in time. The drawbridge dropped, neatly trapping the cat. Mark, Mr. Person and his son looked up at them.

Jim knew that look in Mark's eye; she was coldly furious. Jim nudged his father. "Father, if you want to see your daughter-in-law after this, I suggest strongly that you apologize to her, and quickly."

Jim's father gripped his son's shoulder, and began apologizing.

Jim had to admit his father tried hard; he had never seen him so humble before, but Mark absolutely refused to leave the cat. Jim watched as Mr. Pennington received permission from Mr. Person to replace his son as chaperone. The boy left as Mr. Pennington climbed aboard.

Jim had an idea what would happen next and wasn't too surprised when his father, apologizing the whole time, tossed Mark into the water after they passed through the drawbridge. He threw her baggage onto the nearby shore. Just before they raised the main, Jim's father called back, asking for directions.

"Father," Jim shouted, "I believe you are headed to Sir Walter's estate in Surrey. It's about ten miles past London Bridge on the West bank! The dock is black with green posts! The person you are looking for is Gertrude Norris! She was with us during the Smallpox experiments!"

They waved from the boat and raised their sails. In a surprisingly short time, they were far away.

Jim fished his wife-to-be from the water after collecting her luggage. She wasn't as angry as he expected.

She stared at him, challenging him to make some smart remark. "I suppose you're going to say I was being foolish?"

He shook his head. "Jayti, I don't believe I have ever been so proud of you. You did exactly what had to be done."

She held him, soaking him instantly. He didn't mind a bit. "You know," she said, "I would have forgiven them."

"Maybe so, future wife, but I'm not so sure I would have. Fortunately, they came around."

She looked up. "All of them, Jim?"

"They will after I'm through with them," he said grimly.

She searched his eyes. She relaxed. "That's good enough for me."

* * * * * * * * * *

It was late Friday night. Mark was finally asleep in the girls' room. She awoke when Matilda nudged her shoulder. "Jayti," she hissed, "my husband and Mr. Person are downstairs. Get up!"

Mark got up quickly and put on the robe Matilda handed her. Jenna, Jill, and Erin, recently arrived from London, were awake by this time. Mark slipped into her slippers and followed Matilda downstairs.

They were both there, Mr. Pennington and Will Person. Will had his hat crumpled in his hand and looked uncomfortable. Neither of them looked like they had had any sleep. Mark waited.

"Miss Singh... began Will Person, I'm withdrawing my charge against you. I spoke with Gertrude Norris and I believe you. I admit I was wrong to have believed the doctor. All I can say is that it seemed convincing. I ask for your forgiveness."

Mark hugged him, and gave him a kiss on his whiskered cheek. He smelled like sweat and salt. "Mr. Person, as much as I disliked it personally, you were doing what you felt was right. What you did these last several days proves it. There's nothing to forgive." She smiled and took his hand. "I hope you'll be at our wedding, tomorrow."

He mumbled something inaudible, but in the affirmative and left, still embarrassed.

Mark kissed Mr. Pennington on the cheek as well. "Thank you, Mr. Pennington. That was the best gift you could have given me."

"It was the least I could do for my daughter-in-law and my son. I'm glad you were so kind to Will. He really isn't a bad man, just a hard one." He teeth shone in the lamplight. "Before I get some sleep, I want to tell you that your boat is very fast; that was a wild ride."

"Your son built it. I helped a little, but he chopped it out and did the post and beam joints."

"Yes. Actually, I heard you shout that already to my doubting daughters several nights ago. Well, good night, Jayti. I'll see you in the morning."

Erin, Jenna, and Jill woke Mark up in the early morning and prepared her for the wedding, putting on her finest English clothes. Jim waited nervously downstairs. Sterling Pennington and his sons found some musicians at the last possible minute, and they joined the Penningtons and McFarlans as they formed a procession. Jim's old friends followed, and made some marked references to bulls, snakes, and pointers on the best ways to please women, offering thoughtfully to substitute for the groom if he wasn't up to the task.

The church ceremony was fairly brief. Mark carried a garland of rosemary and rose in her hand. They pledged each other, Mark promising to love, honor, and obey, simultaneously praying that Jim wouldn't hold her to it. Jim took the ring from her right hand and placed it on her left as she looked up into his adoring face. She put the garland on her head and he kissed her, perhaps longer than custom demanded, and they walked out into a party most of the town was a part of. The rest of the day was a blur.

They went to bed that night for the first time as man and wife. Mark looked at the ring on her left hand, often. Jim was too gentle, until Mark convinced him she wasn't porcelain in the best way she could. Three wonderful days later, she awoke in the morning with her arm stretched over his chest, still smiling. She was about to drowse off again. They most definitely had the day off.

["Mark?"]

'I must be dreaming,' she thought.

["Mark, are you there?"]

['Jayti! You're back?']

["Did I go somewhere? <pause> Shiva! Over a year, Mark? Where are we? And who is he?"]