“ ‘Tis true,” Elizabeth whispered in Smythe’s ear, “she is a witch!”

“ ‘Tis no great feat of divination,” Granny Meg replied, with a graceful shrug. “Your pretty speech betrays you. And there are little ink spatters low upon your doublet, such as would occur when one sits and dips a pen too quickly and, in a rush to set words down, fails to shake off the excess ink. Together with the fact that you came with Master Richard, who keeps company mainly with his fellow actors and with disreputable poets, and it was no great leap of intuition to deduce your calling.”

Smythe grinned. “ ‘Twould seem, Will, that even a disreputable poet can learn a thing or two about detailed observation.”

Shakespeare gave him a wry look.

Granny Meg then turned toward Smythe. “You, however, do not strike me as an actor.”

“And yet, I soon shall be,” said Smythe.

Granny Meg pursed her lips. “Well, perhaps. But methinks I see another role for you. Perhaps no less dramatic. And as for you…” Her gaze fell upon Elizabeth. “Come here, girl.”

Elizabeth now went to her without fear or apprehension. Indeed, thought Smythe, it would be difficult to feel any such emotion in this woman’s presence. She seemed to radiate a peaceful calmness, a grace and serenity that spoke of wisdom and experience. And… something else. But what it was, Smythe did not know.

As Elizabeth came up to Granny Meg, the older woman gently touched her underneath her chin and lifted her head slightly, to gaze straight into her eyes. “I sense a great turmoil within you, girl. A most profound disquiet. Perhaps even desperation… You have recently seen death.”

Elizabeth gasped and pulled away. “You had no ink stains from which to deduce that!”

“Some signs are merely more subtle than others,” Granny Meg replied. “Give me your hand.” She reached out to her. Elizabeth hesitated briefly, then held out her right hand. Granny Meg took it and turned it palm up, then traced several lines upon it with her long and graceful forefinger. “You shall have a long life,” she said. She smiled then. “And many lovers.”

Elizabeth snatched her hand back.

“Come, all of you, sit at the table,” Granny Meg said. “Freddy, could we have some tea, please?”

“Are you going to read the tea leaves?” Shakespeare asked.

“No, we are going to have some tea,” Granny Meg replied.

Burbage chuckled. “Granny Meg, we have come to ask a favor…”

“This much I had surmised,” she replied, “but it can wait. There is something else I must do first.” Seemingly from out of nowhere, she produced a deck of cards and began to shuffle them. She stopped at one point and selected one, the Queen of Pentacles, and placed it face up in the center of the table, then continued to shuffle. After a moment or two, she handed the deck to Elizabeth. “Take these, girl, and shuffle them, as I did.”

“I am afraid that I shall not be able to do it near as quickly,” Elizabeth replied, watching her dubiously.

“Do it as slowly as you like then. The point is just to mix them up.”

Elizabeth took the deck and started to shuffle the cards awkwardly. “I have never seen cards such as these,” she said. “They are quite beautiful. What sort of game are they for?”

“They are called tarot cards,” Granny Meg replied. “And they are not used in any sort of game.” She shrugged. “Well, some people might call this sort of thing a game, I suppose. And their results would, of course, come out accordingly.”

“How long should I do this?” Elizabeth asked.

“Until you feel that you have done it enough. There is no set time or number.”

Elizabeth glanced at her uncertainly and promptly dropped some of the cards on the table.

“ ‘Tis all right,” Granny Meg said. “Just pick them up and put them back into the deck, however you like.”

Elizabeth did so, and after a moment more, said, “I think I have mixed these well enough.”

Granny Meg nodded. “So be it. Put them down here, upon the table. Now, I shall cut them three times, and then you do likewise.”

When each of them was done, Granny Meg picked up the deck. “Now,” she said, “this spread is called the Celtic cross. This card here,” she pointed to the Queen of Pentacles, “signifies you. And this,” she pulled one card off the top of the deck and covered the Queen of Pentacles with it. “… this covers you. The Six of Cups. It depicts children playing in a garden, as you see. Behind the garden is a manor, with servants, all signifying wealth, happiness, contentment, childhood… but these things have largely passed now. This next card signifies your obstacles, those things which now oppose you…”

As she gracefully drew the next card from the deck and turned it over, they could see it was reversed, or upside down. Granny Meg laid it crosswise over the first two cards. “The Knight of Cups, reversed. A messenger, or a new arrival, an invitation or a proposition. Reversed, however, it implies treachery and deceit. Duplicity and fraud oppressing you.”

“That would be Gresham,” Smythe said, grimly.

“Please,” said Granny Meg. “She is the one who must interpret these things for herself.”

Smythe merely nodded and kept silent.

Granny Meg drew another card and placed it face up on the table, in a position directly above the others. “This is the crowning influence,” she said, looking at Elizabeth. “It represents what you hope to achieve, but have not, as yet. And it is the Lovers.” She smiled. Elizabeth blushed at the frank depiction of a nude young man and woman on the card, surmounted by the sun and a godly or angelic presence. “You long for simple things, for what any young girl longs for. Attraction, beauty, true love, contentment and security, trials overcome…”

She drew another card and laid it down below the others. “This is beneath you,” she said. “It signifies your past, what is yours, what you must work with in order to achieve that which you desire. The Eight of Swords.”

Elizabeth drew in her breath sharply at the depiction on the card. A woman, bound and blindfolded, surrounded by eight swords stuck into the ground.

“You are in a crisis,” Granny Meg said, looking at her. “There is conflict, bad tidings, and censure. And your ability to act is limited, if indeed, you have any ability to act at all in this current situation.”

Elizabeth glanced at Smythe, alarmed at the accuracy, so far, of the reading. Granny Meg continued, drawing yet another card. “This is behind you, that which has passed or is passing even as we speak.” She turned up the Death card and Elizabeth cried out and brought her hands up to her face, getting a sharp glance from Granny Meg. “The Death card does not always mean literal death, although it could,” she said. “It could also signify mortality, corruption, destruction or a decisive end, a discovery, or an event which shall change the direction of the querent’s life.”

She dealt another card and put it in the opposite position, completing the formation of the cross. “This is before you, that which is coming into action, or about to come to pass. The High Priestess. Interesting. This signifies secrets, mysteries… the un-revealed future. There is much intrigue surrounding you, girl. Much that has yet to be revealed and resolved.”

She dealt the next four cards in quick succession, placing them face up on the table to the right of the cross formation, one above the other. She pointed to the lowest card. “This card represents yourself,” she said to Elizabeth, “and your attitude in relation to your current circumstances. It is the Tower.”

“It is a frightening card,” Elizabeth said, softly. “Even more so, ‘twould seem, than the Death card.”

“It frightens you because it represents your emotions and your current state,” Granny Meg replied. “A tower struck by lightning, flames bursting forth, a man and woman, apparently a king and queen, plunging to their destruction… it all signifies catastrophic transformation, ruin, disgrace, adversity, a fall from grace, deception, sudden change. All most unsettling, of course. And this card,” she pointed to the one immediately above it, “signifies your house or your environment, the influence of people and events around you. The Seven of Wands. A young man armed with a staff, or wand, in a belligerent attitude as he stands upon a height, confronting six staves that are raised against him. His opponents are unseen. This signifies bravery and valor, for he battles against superior numbers, and yet has the advantage of position.”