The afternoon sun beamed, full and hot, into Lord Frey’s stately barouche. I held on to my bonnet to keep the wind from blowing it off, both grateful for the breeze that was a relief from the summer heat, and sorry for its cause. The faster the carriage went, the sooner I would be at my new home and under the power of my husband, whom I had no reason to trust.
We passed by gently rolling hills, filled with plentiful grass and clover, dotted here and there with grazing sheep and goats. In the distance I could hear a shepherd’s flute, which echoed across the landscape.
Lord Frey touched my arm, and pointed to the distance, where one hill rose above the rest. On the side of the hill, with spires so high it rose above the crest of this hill itself, was a grey stone palace.
“Rowan Heights, my home,” Lord Frey said. “It’s your home, too, as long as you like it.”
“Oh! My Lord-“
I paused in my rapture and looked back at Lord Frey. “Excuse me?”
“My given name is Hope. You gave me permission to call you by your given name; I’m merely returning the favor. Please, let’s have none of this ‘my Lord’ nonsense.”
Hope leaned closer to me, speaking almost conspiratorially. I turned away to hide my blush.
“Hope- yes, the priest did say your full name at the wedding,” I said. “It seemed a good omen.”
We lapsed into silence as the carriage ascended the second largest hill, and as the road wound toward the top, a small, stone cottage came into view. It was a neat cottage, not overgrown with vines, but clean and bright, with a neat row of hedges in front, which bordered a cobblestone path to the door.
Hope stood, sure footed despite the carriage’s motion, and spoke to the driver.
“To the cottage first, please. I have a gift waiting there for my bride.”
The old coachman gave a loud, coarse laugh and looked askance at me before stopping the carriage.
Hope helped me down from the carriage, and we walked together up the path to the cottage door. The front door was barred by a series of locks, two of which Hope opened with two different keys, and three of which were strange metal devices with gears that he turned, first one way and then the other, until the latch popped open. The he held the door open and gestured for me to enter.
Despite what the multiple door locks would suggest, there seemed to be very little inside the cottage of value. It was furnished like any other country cottage, with bare wooden furniture and a threadbare rug before the hearth. There were dried herbs and flowers tied to the overhead beams, a small bookcase full of paper-bound books and scroll cases, and a cellar door, which was locked like the cottage door had been.
“Wait here for a moment,” Hope said. He disappeared into the cellar, and a few moments later he emerged, carrying a black trunk with silver fittings. The trunk’s lid had a silver plate, bearing the initials GAF.
Hope placed the trunk on the table in front of me.
“Open it,” he said.
I undid the silver clasps and opened the lid. Underneath lay a long, black tube with golden fittings on each end, and two small dials near the back.
“Have you ever seen a telescope?” he asked.
“No, I have not,” I said. I hesitated, and then lifted the telescope from the trunk.
I should give back this gift, I thought.
I should give it back.
But I couldn’t put it down. How could I put it down? All I’d ever wanted was to get closer to the stars.
“I didn’t think it would be an inappropriate gift, though I must admit I’m not the best judge,” Hope said. “The prince has forbidden such devices on the premise that they are unnatural, but as you will see, the telescope operates solely on natural principles, much like a pair of spectacles.”
The prince has forbidden this device because of hubris, I thought. It allows us to see what no mortal was meant to see. Not even mariners are allowed to use them to see over the horizon.
But still, I clutched the telescope in my hands.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Hope laughed then- a full, hearty, genuine laugh.
“I didn’t mean to distress you with this present. You mentioned that you liked astronomy, and I thought you would like it. I may as well be honest with you; in many ways, dear Grace, I am a heretic. Even so, I don’t mean to tempt you away from your piety.”
My grip tightened on the telescope, even as I tried to return it to him.
“Do you think,” I ventured after a short silence, “that we may mount the telescope onto my sextant?”
The coach was dispatched back to the great house to fetch my sextant and observation journal, which had been sent ahead of me along with my books and the elaborate trousseau my governess had arranged. When he returned, he brought not only my sextant and book, but also several large baskets that contained fruit, cold meats, bread, and wine. Hope took the baskets to a grassy area near the crest of the hill, and spread the fare out on a blanket.
Hope and I ate in silence as the sun fell lower in the sky. Then, when I’d finished my meal and took my sextant out to assemble on the crest of the hill, Hope spoke.
“Do you need assistance?”
“Bring the telescope, if you please,” I said, setting the sextant atop the unfolded tripod. He brought it over, and I removed the plain eyepiece and mounted the telescope quite easily, with the help of two metal bands.
“They seem made to fit together,” I remarked.
Hope smiled almost sheepishly. “I took your sextant to the maker when it was sent ahead of you. I didn’t mean to intrude on your privacy, but I wanted to make sure your gift would suit.”
“And so it does. Look- twilight is near,” I said, turning the telescope to the west. “The evening stars, Lystra and Miriam are out.”
“Lystra and Miriam are wandering stars, are they not?”
“Yes, but they always appear quite near the sun- in the west near sunset- and they never wander very far away. They will set soon after the sun. How bright they are, tonight!”
Hope came over and handed me a cup of wine, but I took only a sip before I put the cup aside and reached for my observation book.
I checked off the last observation I’d made for Lystra a week before, and then turned my sextant to the predicted coordinates. Then I looked into the telescope and adjusted it, little by little, until a bright silver blob appeared in the circle of light.
“The maker told me that this one,” Hope said, taking my hand and guiding it to the first metal gear on the scope, “will heighten the magnification, and this one,” he guided my hand to the second gear, “will sharpen the focus.
I jumped a little as he touched me, filled with a sudden, awful feeling that the gift had been a trap- that he would chide me for my wickedness in accepting the telescope and, worse, using it. His hands were gentle, though.
I trembled a little with anticipation as I turned the gears, and the tiny blob of light grew larger, bit by bit, blurring more and more. Then I turned the other gear and it grew just a little sharper, until it would focus no more.
“It isn’t quite clear,” I said, “But I can almost make out features- it isn’t just a light. It has form. There’s a dark area near the top of the disc, and some faint lines that seem to coalesce on a point at the bottom. Oh! If only I could get closer. What am I seeing?”
My eyes hungrily took in everything, yet the wonder of this new sight somehow wasn’t enough. As satisfying as watching the stars dance across the sky night by night had been before, this new glimpse of the planet awakened a need for more. I hadn’t experienced anything so tantalizing since I was a young girl and, learning that the stars had names, tried to learn them all.
I took the observation book and, noting the date and time, tried to sketch what I saw through the telescope. I failed, scratched it out, and tried again. Finally, satisfied with the result, I wrote underneath; Lystra, seen through the forbidden instrument. Today, the heavens are new.
When I finished, I smiled up at Hope, who said, “every cent of this little instrument’s cost was worth it, just to see you smile.”
I turned away before he could see me scowl at his courtly flattery, hiding my discomfort by standing aside to let him look through the eyepiece.
I soon forgot my discomfort. As the night wore on, wonder after wonder unfolded before my eyes. The sky darkened to deepest black, and more stars appeared. I traced my favorite constellations- the cat, the widow’s veil, and the demon’s cage- with my new telescope. The fixed stars remained as bright points of light, but the wandering stars would appear larger and more detailed. My most breathtaking discovery was made when I turned my telescope toward the faint patch of tiny stars on the cat’s tail. On the best nights, when I looked hardest, I could only make out four distinct stars, but when I turned my telescope toward it, I could see dozens- some faint, and some as sharp as the evening star.
I wanted to remain there forever, re-discovering the sky, but eventually I grew exhausted. When the eastern stars grew dim, and the eastern sky filled with the faint glow of dawn, I leaned back and yawned, resting my tired eyes.
“The sun is rising,” Hope said. “It is time to go home to the manor.”