The Smallest Man

by Frances Quinn

  Chapter Eighteen

  The day of the race was bright and sunny, drawing an even bigger crowd than usual. I’d barely slept after waking from my nightmare, and by morning my stomach was a knot that twisted tighter every time I thought about the race. Sitting in the stand with the king and queen’s party, I looked out at the hundreds of spectators ranged behind the posts that marked out the circular course, and imagined the roar of all those people laughing at me.

  It’s no good; I can’t do it.

  Jeremiah had put my name and Crofts’ down to race when we arrived that morning, but he could just as easily take us off the list again. I tapped his arm.

  ‘What is it, lad?’ He looked at me very seriously. ‘Do you want to pull out? Because if you do, I’ll not think any the less of you. You’ve been brave, and you’ve made yourself a better rider than many. There’d be no shame in leaving it at that.’

  So he didn’t think I could do it either. And who knew better than him?

  ‘But listen to me.’ His voice was gruff, almost cross. ‘I know you. I know what you can do when you put your mind to it. You’re the bravest boy I ever met, and to my mind it’d be a damn shame if you don’t take the chance to show it.’

  ‘Of course I’m doing it,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t thinking of pulling out.’

  ‘I thought not. Well, let’s go and get ready, shall we?’

  * * *

  I kept my eyes straight ahead as I rode to the start, ignoring the curious murmurs.

  ‘What if they won’t let me race?’ I said to Jeremiah. ‘When they see me?’

  ‘I’ve told them. You’re the queen’s dwarf, and she’s given special permission.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘They’re not going to take it into their heads to go and ask her, are they?’

  Crofts was there waiting, with the other boys. The black stallion was even bigger than I remembered. It looked at Shadow and I could swear it smirked, just like its master. But when Crofts saw me, surprise flashed across his face, just for a second, before he recovered his usual mocking grin.

  ‘So, pie boy, you can sit on a horse. And not even side saddle.’

  I leaned down to fiddle with my boot so he wouldn’t see my white face and shaking hands.

  ‘How about I give you a head start?’ he said, pointing at a place halfway round. ‘As far as the second bend. Don’t want people saying I had it too easy.’

  ‘Nat doesn’t need a head start,’ said Jeremiah. ‘He’ll race you fair and square.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said, but my chest was tight and annoyingly my voice came out small and croaky.

  Crofts threw back his head and laughed.

  ‘Pie boy, you are cracked in the head.’

  ‘Cracked!’ echoed his brother, shaking with laughter.

  Jeremiah was adjusting the stirrups. He stood up then, squeezed my shoulder and said very quietly, ‘You’ll show ’em, Nat. You’ll show ’em.’

  I took a breath.

  ‘Are you ready?’ I said to Crofts. ‘Because I am.’

  * * *

  We’d agreed on three laps, but Crofts pulled ahead easily as soon as the rope went up. As he reached the halfway point, he was already so far in front I had no hope of catching him. Even after my nightmare, a small part of me had hoped I might beat him, but of course that was stupid. The best I could hope for was to get round as fast as I could without falling off. I’d prove I could ride and that would have to be enough.

  Then, up ahead, he reined the stallion in and stopped. Taking a carrot from his pocket, he held it up, and leaned round to feed it, very slowly, to his horse. The crowd erupted into laughter. My cheeks burned but I urged Shadow on. Even if we couldn’t win, I owed it to Jeremiah – and, I realised suddenly, to Shadow, who tried so hard for me – to do my best.

  Crofts let us pass him and finish the first lap before he kicked the stallion into action again. I leaned into Shadow and she responded; for a few moments, we kept our lead, but he was coming up behind us, and though we were going faster than we’d ever done, he passed us again, looking back and giving me a cheery wave. I gritted my teeth and kept going.

  Crofts looked back again, grinning. He slowed down, and this time, he wheeled his horse round in circles, as though it was dancing, while he waved and bowed to the laughing crowd. Then, over the pounding of Shadow’s hooves, someone shouted:

  ‘Come on, the little man! Come on!’

  Good old Jeremiah.

  But it wasn’t. I was concentrating so hard on driving Shadow forward that it took a few minutes before the thought fell into place. Jeremiah would never have called me that. What I could hear was people cheering for me.

  ‘Come on, dwarf!’

  ‘You show him!’

  Once again, Crofts let me pass him. This time I held the lead for a little longer, spurred on by the cheering, but it was a matter of moments before he came up behind us again, yelling:

  ‘Come on, pie boy, is that the best you can do?’

  One more lap to go. By now I was expecting him to stop again before the finish and, sure enough, he yanked back on the reins, turning round and starting to shout something at me. But he must have pulled too hard; the big black horse stopped so suddenly that he was hurled forward, flying over its head to hit the ground with a thud. There was a gasp from the crowd. For a second he lay there, then a sigh of relief rippled around as he clambered to his feet.

  A cheer rang out as I passed him. But he was getting back up on his horse, and the finish still looked far away.

  In my head Jeremiah’s words pounded in time with Shadow’s hooves. You’ll show ’em, you’ll show ’em. I kept my eyes on the end of the course, but Crofts was coming up behind me now.

  ‘Out of the way, pie boy!’ he shouted.

  He was getting nearer, but Shadow kept up her speed.

  ‘He’s going to do it!’ someone yelled. ‘The dwarf’s winning.’

  We held our lead for a minute or so, but the black stallion was beginning to gain on us. He was going to pass us. He was still going to win. Shadow was running as fast as she could, but it wouldn’t be enough. With fifty yards to go, Crofts drew level, and smirked across at me.

  ‘Get your little pony,’ – he kicked out at Shadow – ‘out of my way.’

  His foot hit her side, and it must have frightened her, or annoyed her. She skittered a little, and then from nowhere she found an extra burst of speed. I gripped her mane as we passed Crofts’ horse, and got clear ahead of it. He shouted out and urged his horse on, but Shadow kept going, she didn’t slow for a second. The finishing line drew nearer and nearer, and the crowd was shouting, but then Crofts started to draw level with us. That’s it. He’s going to win. I closed my eyes so I didn’t have to see him pass us after all that. And then there was an enormous cheer, and I opened my eyes, and we’d won. By little more than a head, but we’d won.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Jeremiah was dancing up and down at the finish line.

  ‘Did you hear the cheers, Nat? You did it!’

  Crofts’ face as he dismounted was one of the sweetest sights I ever saw. His friends ran up.

  ‘He beat you,’ said Will. He could hardly speak for laughing. ‘The dwarf beat you.’

  ‘I let him win,’ said Crofts. ‘Surely you saw that?’

  ‘Didn’t look like you were letting him win at the end there,’ said Matthew. ‘Looked like you couldn’t get past him.’

  ‘What? You can’t really think—’

  I strode over and stood in front of him, like he used to with me.

  ‘Must be embarrassing,’ I said. ‘Being beaten by me.’

  The other boys smirked.

  ‘I let you win,’ said Crofts.

  ‘Why would you do that?’ I asked. ‘You said you’d beat me.’

  The others looked at him. Crofts shook his head, and stalked away.

  ‘You’re thick, you lot,’ he shouted over his shoulder, ‘I let him win. Anyone can
see that.’

  The queen was talking to Jeremiah. I ran across, grinning all over my face. But my smile froze at what she was saying.

  ‘How could you be so… so…’ She was struggling for the right English word. That only happened now when she was really angry, or really upset. ‘… so foolish! He could have been killed.’

  She saw Jeremiah catch my eye, and spun round.

  ‘And you – what were you thinking, to put yourself in danger like that?’

  I wasn’t sure what to say. She was supposed to be pleased. She was supposed to be proud of me.

  ‘I just… I wanted to show I could do the things other boys do.’

  ‘But you are not other boys. You are my dwarf.’

  ‘I’m a dwarf. But I’m not a doll. That’s what everyone sees, when they look at me, but your majesty, I’m not much younger than you were when you came here. I’m nearly a man, and nobody sees it.’

  ‘And you thought to show it by risking your life?’

  ‘I wasn’t. It took months and months, but now I can ride as well as anyone.’

  ‘Well, I forbid you to ride again.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘And anyone allowing you to take a horse from my stables will be dismissed immediately.’

  She turned and stalked away.

  * * *

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Jeremiah, when he came to my chamber that evening. ‘It’s dinner time.’

  ‘I’m packing,’ I said, though in truth I didn’t know what to take. I’d brought nothing much of my own with me, and it felt like stealing to take the clothes the queen had had made for me.

  ‘Nat, come on, don’t be daft. You can’t leave.’

  ‘You said I couldn’t learn to ride a horse, remember? I did that, now I’m doing this.’

  I sounded braver than I felt. I had no idea where I could go; the only other place I knew was Oakham, and I wasn’t going to go there and let my father double his money by selling me to the fair. But I kept telling myself I’d done one impossible thing, and if I had to, I’d do another. Learning to ride had started out as revenge on Crofts, and make no mistake, it was sweet to have beaten him. But discovering that, on Shadow’s back, I really could be equal to anyone, that was sweeter. How could I give it up? And it wasn’t just that. I’d believed the queen had come to see me as a friend, but I was wrong. She talked to me because she had no one else, but I was still just a little doll to her. It stung to think how stupid I’d been.

  ‘She was only angry because she was frightened for you,’ said Jeremiah. ‘She’s very fond of you, you know.’

  ‘Just like she’s fond of Bonbon, and the monkeys.’

  ‘Nat, don’t cut your nose off to spite your face. We’re not like other people and it’s not so easy to find our way in the world as it is for them. You’ve beaten the Crofts boy, like you wanted to, and beaten him well. And tonight, you’ll sleep in a warm bed, with a full belly. Can’t it be enough?’

  I wavered then, I can’t deny it. I thought of the faerie woman in her cage, and the people who’d called kind, gentle Jeremiah a monster. But I shook my head.

  ‘I’ve made up my mind. I’m going tomorrow, at first light.’

  He sighed.

  ‘Well, I can’t stop you. But don’t go so early. Stay and have breakfast with me, for old times’ sake?’

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘For old times’ sake.’

  * * *

  We stretched out our breakfast for as long as we could. The thought of walking away from Jeremiah made me feel a sadness I hadn’t known since I heard that eleventh shilling clinking into my father’s hand. And for all I was angry with her, I’d miss the queen too. When at last we’d eaten the final crust of bread, and finished the dregs of the beer, he walked with me to the gates.

  ‘You’re sure you won’t change your mind? It’s a cold world out there,’ he said, as our footsteps slowed.

  I shook my head.

  ‘There must be something out there I can do.’

  ‘Well, if there is, lad, you’ll find it. Of that I’m sure. But if you ever—’

  ‘Hey! You there! Dwarf!’ One of the queen’s guards ran towards us. ‘Everyone’s looking for you!’

  She must have found out I was going. I started running, but of course he caught me up in just a few steps.

  ‘The queen wants to see you. At the stables.’

  Chapter Twenty

  As we walked to the stables, I kept thinking about what she’d said after the race, that anyone who let me take a horse would be dismissed. Was she going to ask who’d let me take Shadow out before, so she could get rid of them? It wasn’t like her to be vindictive, but she’d been so angry, perhaps she would. And it would be all my fault.

  She was standing there with Crofts’ father, her Master of Horse. Surely she wasn’t going to dismiss him too? For all I hated Crofts, I didn’t want that. At least I could tell her his father hadn’t known anything.

  ‘Your majesty, I need to explain—’

  ‘You explained yesterday.’

  ‘But it wasn’t—’

  ‘You explained yesterday, but I was too angry to listen. You gave me a terrible fright, you know.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry, but—’

  ‘But I’ve thought about what you said. I know how it is to be treated like a child when you are no longer one.’

  I stared up at her.

  ‘So,’ she said, gesturing towards the stables. ‘Choose. Which one would you like?’

  ‘Your majesty?’

  ‘Choose a horse. One of your own, to ride when you like.’

  I walked across to the stable block, where Shadow was standing with her head out of the door, as though she’d listened to every word. I held up my hand and she stretched down to nuzzle it.

  ‘I’ll take this one,’ I said.

  * * *

  I can’t say that after that day no one ever treated me like a doll again. People still plucked me up off the ground without warning, and the queen never lost her delight in ordering me new costumes, and seeing me dress up in them. But my life did change. As well as giving me Shadow to ride, the queen arranged for me to take lessons in archery and shooting with Will, Matthew and the other boys, and even though they were ahead of me when I started, I practised and practised at both until I was as good as they were.

  The Crofts brothers left court a few months after the race – I heard their father sent them to live with an uncle in Northumberland, to learn about managing an estate. Crofts’ friends were different, once Crofts was gone, and we never spoke of how they’d treated me before. I didn’t know then that he would come back into my life one day, and I was very much the happier for that.

  The other thing that happened was I became quite famous. Hundreds of people had seen me in the race and because, even for a dwarf, I was so small, they were curious.

  ‘Look at this,’ said Jeremiah one morning, waving a news pamphlet at me. ‘It’s about you!’

  My eyes widened as I read it:

  THE SMALLEST MAN IN ENGLAND!

  Spectators in Hyde Park last week were agape to see a dwarf of minuscule proportions take part in the races, and win. The tiny fellow goes by the name of Nathaniel Davy, and resides at the queen’s court. Said to be twelve years old, he stands no taller than an infant – a veritable Miracle of Nature!

  Shortly afterwards, one of the court poets wrote a long poem about me, and though it was really just a pile of nonsense, when it was printed, people flocked to buy it. And when we walked in the park, people nudged each other, saying, ‘That’s the queen’s dwarf – the smallest man in England.’ When I heard them, my stomach no longer churned with shame; I felt special, even proud. Sometimes I’d walk a little apart from the others, to make sure I’d be seen, exhibiting something of a swagger when people were watching.

  I still missed my mother and Sam, but as time went by, I found myself thinking about Oakham less and less, and one day, as the towers and turrets of W
hitehall came into sight after a long trip down the river to Hampton Court, I realised the palace had come to mean home to me now. I had left my old life behind, and it began to seem a distant memory.

  My only wish was to see the queen happy too. During the months that the duke was away on the expedition to La Rochelle, she and the king had had some time to get to know each other, unhindered by his poisonous interventions, and it looked as though my mother’s advice was paying off. By the time the fleet limped home, chased off by the French with thousands of men lost, the two of them weren’t exactly lovebirds, but they could stay in each other’s company for an evening without war breaking out, and there was even a rumour the queen was expecting a child. It turned out not to be true, but we all saw – not to be too indelicate about it – that the necessary was taking place.

  But once the duke got home, he slipped straight back into place like a greased eel. At the slightest sign the king might listen to her instead of him, he’d find a way to come between them, and the king always took his side. At heart, I think he was still the unloved son who’d been so pathetically grateful for the duke’s approval, and he couldn’t contemplate losing it, even for a moment. Even when London bubbled with rumours that the duke was plotting to take over the country and kick out the king, even when Parliament came right out and said he was the cause of all England’s problems, the king’s devotion to him didn’t waver.

  Despite the disastrous end to the campaign in La Rochelle, the following year the king agreed to a second attempt, certain that the duke would return victorious and be proclaimed as a hero. We journeyed down to Portsmouth for the king to inspect the fleet, and Buckingham walked us round the harbour, where lines of ships were swarming with men getting them ready to sail, and a crowd had gathered to watch. Wearing his smuggest smile, he pointed out the guns on one, and the gigantic sails on another, and the king nodded appreciatively, for all the world as though the two of them had years of sea battles under their belts.