“No point bringing Sam,” said Peter. “Don't know why we should bring a child.” Sam was about to argue, but everyone hurried out of the front door, slammed it behind them, and almost ran down the road. So Sam decided to sit down again, cuddle Mouse and wait for Nathan’s royal family to turn up.
Alfie stood at the little pier where the wherry boats were tied up, waiting for customers. Alfie spoke to the first wherryman, pointing across to the opposite side of the river. “We are five,” he said. “My lady and myself, a friend and two servants. Take us to Winchester Palace, and fast.”
The wherry man bowed his head, pulled in tight to the quay so each passenger could safely step into the little boat and sit on one of the benches, and then began to row out into the centre of the river. It did not take long for them to put up to the pier at the palace, and as Alfie stood, and then climbed onto firm ground again, he paid the wherryman, helped Alice out with one hand, and waited for John and Peter and Nathan.
“Right,” Alfie said, “here we are. Poppy will be in the dungeons somewhere.”
“Try getting the main doors opened,” mumbled Peter, trying to keep his voice low, “and I’ll slip in and find her. Then I can pick the lock.” Nodding, Nathan kept close to John. He wasn’t sure yet which way he’d choose to go.
Alfie and Alice marched up to the huge carved doorway, and Nathan knocked, then stepped away. A steward in flowing robes answered the door. “His lordship the bishop is not at home,” he said, looking extremely haughty. “He cannot, therefore, receive visitors, and no one is either expected or permitted entrance,” and with a twirl of his long robes, he turned, slamming the door behind him. But at the last moment, the door did not quite close, for Nathan had stuck his foot in the way.
“This is a matter of urgency,” said Alfie, shoulders back and looking very important. “I am the Lord of Portsmouth, and you have arrested my lady’s young sister. She is accused of heresy, but I consider this absurd. The girl is still a child and knows nothing of different wicked religions.”
Alice didn’t have to pretend to be upset, for she really was. “My little sister Poppy Bannister is utterly innocent,” she said. “Who has accused her?”
The steward was trying to kick Nathan’s foot away from the gap in the door, but Nathan wouldn’t budge. Then a small angry man pushed the steward out of the way, open the door wide again, and stood on the doorstep with a wedge of paper rolled up in his hand. “I am Sir Thomas Winterberry,” he said, waving the scrolls of paper, “and I can tell you, my lord, this girl is a dangerous heretic. I have it on the best of authority that when she was working for a respectable woman and her son in London, she stole several items, attempted to make magic that would harm her mistress, and spoke of terrible and blasphemous curses towards our Lord Above.”
“Poppy doesn’t work for anybody,” said Alice angrily and stamping her foot.
“Hold on,” said John, “I reckons they’s talkin’ about me grandmother. Abducted Poppy, she did, and made her a slave afore she ran off. But that were well-nigh a year and more ago”
“Mistress Violet Crinford has laid information against the girl,” said the small man. “Dark magic, blasphemy against our Lord, and heresy. She will be held for trial and tried before the bishop tomorrow morning.”
Nathan stepped forwards, Peter beside him. “Lies,” shouted Nathan. “That horrid old woman hates us all. She’s only saying these things because she wants to get us all into trouble.”
“Please can I see Poppy?” asked Peter, very politely, “just to cheer her up and give her – hope.” He clasped his hands. “She is just a poor little girl and I’m sure she’s hungry and frightened. I will just stay a few moments.”
But Sir Thomas was adamant. “Certainly not,” he said. “This female is a dangerous criminal and heretic. Indeed, she may be far older than she looks. Black magic can achieve many things.”
“Well, can we attend the trial tomorrow morning?” demanded Alfie.
“Of course,” said the small man crossly. “All the public is welcome to come along and discover what will happen to wicked heretics who don’t repent.”
It was as they all walked sadly away, that Alice said, “He said about repenting. Perhaps that’s all Poppy needs to do and then they’ll let her go.”
“If I know Poppy, she’ll be so angry she won’t do anything they ask her,” sighed Nathan. “I hope Mum and Granny get here soon.”
Chapter Three
It was a terrible night. No one slept and every time there was a creak or a rattle, they all jumped up, hoping that help had come from Lashtang. It was very dark for the clouds hid the moon and stars, and there was a strong wind which whined and moaned outside. Nathan thought the night was the longest he had ever known, and he couldn’t understand why Granny hadn’t yet turned up. But Nathan had his own secret watch hidden under his pillow, so when the little alarm went off he jumped out of bed and got dressed in his very best medieval clothes.
Not liking medieval clothes much, Nathan usually complained about dressing up, but this time it was important to look grand, so he was careful to brush his hair and make sure his shirt was clean. The shirt had a slightly frilly collar, and over that he wore a doublet in bright blue with shiny silver buckles and clips, with silver satin slashes on the sleeves, and black woolly tights underneath. No trousers, but at least the doublet sort of jacket had a peblum, which was a bit like a long ruffle coming down over his thighs. He had to wear a hat as well, with a bright red feather. He refused to look in the mirror, but he knew he looked fine when he hurried downstairs, and Alfie looked up saying, “Gosh, you look really handsome and important, Nat.”
Both Alfie and John were dressed up too, and Alice looked like an old fashioned princess in a beautiful long satin dress in pink and white, with flowers in her hair. Peter was wearing nothing special because he wanted to pass as a servant and try and sneak down to the cellars and pick the prison lock. Sam was once again staying at home, for he thought he could never bear to watch the guards drag Poppy off to be killed, and besides, someone had to stay at home in case Granny and the others turned up and would want an explanation.
They all had a quick breakfast of bread and cheese, and were ready to leave. However, John now left in a very different direction. He was not going to court, he was going to find his father and his grandmother, Violet Crinford, to make her swallow back her accusation against Poppy.
Immediately afterwards Nathan, Alfie, Alice and Peter left and headed towards the River Thames. Once again they crossed the river by boat, and approached the courtroom at Winchester Palace. The doors were open and already some people at in the stands, curious to see what would happen. It had started to rain a little, just a very soft drizzle which flattened Nathan’s red feather.
They sat in a row, but had to wait quite a while, as first all the ecclesiastical lords in their scarlet robes, and the lawyers in their sombre black clothes all settled themselves at the front of the courtroom. There was only a dull light for the windows had all turned grey with the rain outside, and no candles had been lit inside for it was still early morning.
Then Poppy was brought in. Two guards marched beside her, their hands on her shoulders, but she certainly didn’t need to be dragged for Poppy marched angrily and stood in front of the long row of church authorities.
Large of all, in bustled the bishop, short, fat, long-nosed, and very angry-looking. He also wore scarlet robes to his feet, trimmed in white fur and he clutched an extremely large white kerchief and constantly wiped his nose as he sniffed.
Poppy was wearing modern clothes, and Nathan was rather worried that the churchmen would think that shocking. She had her hair in a ponytail, which was now straggly and covered in dust. Her little summer dress was very short and pretty in a blue and yellow flowered material, with strappy shoulders and loose around the waist. She might have originally been wearing sandals, but now her feet were bare and very dirty. Nathan assumed that she must have got dressed read
y to travel back to modern London. Perhaps Hermes had meant to bring her – but then the arrest must have come too quickly.
Sir Thomas Winterberry, who was evidently a solicitor, now stood up, holding his papers. “My lords,” he said, bowing to the authorities, “this is the trial of the female Poppy Bannister. I shall read out the documents I have concerning this case, but I believe you will immediately realise, seeing this immodest criminal, that she clothes herself in a highly disgraceful and heretical manner.”
The bishops all nodded and murmured together, shocked at Poppy’s short skirt, very short sleeves and short hair. A group of priests sat in a corner at the front, taking notes with their quills scratching away on parchment. One of these priests stood, bowed to his bishop, and asked, “Is the girl’s real name Poppy? This is a foreign flower and does not exist here as a respectable name. Poppy is the flower that gives the opium which is the cure for pain. Why is this the young woman’s name?”
No one appeared to have any idea about this, so Poppy interrupted their mumbling, saying, “It’s what my mother called me. I was born in another time – place. Well, what I mean is that poppies grow bright and pretty where I was born, and it’s a nice name.”
“Quiet, girl,” shouted one bishop. “How dare you speak before anyone tells you.”
But the Bishop of Winchester leaned forwards, speaking to Poppy, and asked, “The stamens of the poppy are a great medicine. Do you act as a witch, bringing magic to cure people and take their pain?”
Not at all sure what to say, Poppy paused. Finally she said, “No. I don’t do magic and I’m not a witch and I can’t cure people. I wish I could but I’m just an ordinary girl and I wear these clothes because they come from where I was born. I want to go back there. I was ready to leave when your horrible guards came banging on the door.”
There was a short silence while every court official pondered this confusing story. Then the Bishop of Winchester looked down his nose at Poppy, sniffed, wiped his nose on his kerchief, sniffed again, and said, “The child appears to be mentally deficient. Is this why she has been confused for a heretic? Does the girl have anyone to account for her behaviour?”
Alfie, Alice and Nathan all immediately stood up in the public gallery. “This is my little sister, your lordship,” said Alice. “She is easily confused, but she is no criminal and she’s certainly not a heretic.”
Alfie called to Poppy. “You’re not a heretic, are you Poppy dear?” he said loudly.
Poppy turned around. “Hello Alfie,” she said with a large smile. “These people are all crazy. I don’t even know what a heretic means.”
“She lies,” interrupted Sir Thomas. “Look at her ridiculous clothes. She says they come from another country, but I have travelled widely, and there are no such things anywhere. These are the immodest clothes of a witch. Mistress Violet Crinford has sworn on the Bible that the girl has attempted to preach against his holiness the pope. Also that she stole, attempted black magic, and tried to poison her.”
Poppy jumped up and down, clenched her fists and stamped both feet. “Where’s that horrible woman now?” she demanded. “And where’s John?”
“You are not on trial here for theft or using poison,” said the bishop. “You are not even on trial for witchcraft. You are on trial for heresy, so behave yourself and answer the priest’s questions.”
One of the priests stood and faced Poppy. “Kneel,” he ordered her. “And answer the questions I shall put to you.”
Poppy looked down at the floor. It was bare boards and she didn’t want to kneel there at all, since her knees were also bare. “I can’t kneel,” she said. “I’ve got – broken – knees.”
Since the priest had seen her stamp and run and jump, he didn’t believe her knees were hurt at all. He stepped forwards, and with both hands hard on her shoulders, he pushed her down. “Show respect to the bishop,” he ordered. “Stay there and bow your head. Speak only when told to do so. Now, when did you last attend church for morning mass?”
Shaking her head so the ponytail fell undone, and her bumble-Bee hair flopped over her forehead, Poppy hopped up and glared at the priest. “Look,” she said, “this is all a load of nonsense. The church is supposed to be loving and kind like God. Not all horrible and cruel. You really think you want to burn me alive just because I don’t go to church? That’s the cruellest thing I’ve ever heard. What a ghastly idea. And I’m not kneeling and hurting my knees in front of the cruel old man like you.”
Seeing that Poppy had gone quite pink in the face, and her voice was quite breathless, Nathan knew his sister was both angry and frightened. So he quickly stood up and asked politely if he could approach the bishop as he had something important to say.
The bishop looked quite shocked, sniffed loudly, blew his nose, fluttered his kerchief, and nodded. “This is all quite improper,” he grumbled. “Quick, boy, quick. What have you to say?”
Standing beside Poppy, Nathan put his hand on her arm to calm her, and said quietly, “The young lady is not always in command of her senses, my lord bishop. She cannot be blamed for anything she says. And the woman who made this accusation is known to us. She hates Poppy, and simply wishes to hurt her.”
“Then the girl should be confined in Bedlam,” said the priest. “Speaking against the church cannot be permitted without consequences.”
Meanwhile, John had hurried across London to the home of his father Arthur Crinford and hoped he was at home and not away at sea. The door was answered by the Crinford steward who said immediately, “Ah, Master John. I am delighted to see you have returned home.”
“Only if me dad’s home too,” said John in a rush.
“I’m afraid not,” said the steward. “Arthur Crinford sailed away to Italy a month back, and the house is now occupied by his mother, the Lady Crinford, until the master’s return. He is expected back in another month or so.”
“Oh, bother,” said John. “Botheration and codswallop. I were frighted he might be gone to sea again. Reckon I’ll have to talk to the old lady instead.”
Opening the door wide, the steward stepped back, and John hurried inside. He went directly to the large salon, and there he found his grandmother sitting rigid at the table, doing her embroidery. It was now a dull drizzly day, so she could not see very well, and all her stitches were sewed wonky. She looked up and scowled. “I’ve no wish to talk to you, John,” she said. “And your father won’t be home for a month at the least. So you can just go away.”
“The house ain’t yours, so you can’t throw me out,” said John, and walked over to the other side of the table where he pulled up a chair and sat down. “It’s you, ain’t it, lying about poor Poppy?”
Putting down her embroidery with a snap, Violet Crinford frowned at her grandson. “What I choose to do,” she said with a distinct snarl, “is none of your business. I don’t even believe you are my grandson, and you should leave now before I throw you out.”
“Oh no you won’t,” John snapped back. “This is my father’s house. I could probably order you thrown out if I wanted. Now listen – you remember all those horrible snakes and dragons and wizards that came here once. Well, I can make them come here again if you don’t go to court now and say you were wrong about Poppy.”
Violet Crinford stood, leaning over with both her hands on the table. She was shaking with fury. “How dare you!” she shouted. “That girl’s disgraceful. When she worked for me, she did nothing she was told and then ran away. And all those terrible animals she brought with her, such as you’ve just mentioned like the huge snakes and dragons, that is certainly part of the heresy. She worships the devil.”
John laughed, “Wot rubbish. Poppy don’t worship nuffing and as fer the devil, she probably don’t know wot that is. Does you really want that nice little friend o’ mine burned alive?”
“As a heretic and witch, yes indeed,” answered the woman. “We need to cleanse the city of people like her.”
Leaning back in his chai
r, John regarded his grandmother with a strange twisted smile. “Y’know,” he said softly, I ain’t realised afore wot an evil old crone you is. You wants to burn an innocent girl, like you tried to throw me as a baby on the rubbish dump. I coulda bin ate alive by dogs or somefing. You really is a wicked monster.” He paused, then stood. “Now see wot I can do. Cos you won’t like it. But I reckon the time is come.”
“You can do nothing while your father is absent,” the woman said. “So get out of here and trouble me no more.”
He looked at his grandmother one last time. “Reckon you ain’t got no idea wot I can do,” he said, his voice still soft and threatening. “But you gonna find out soon enough. Yeh, mighty soon.”
He left the house and marched down the road towards the river. Beneath the heavy cloud, the streets seemed dull and brooding, the houses stared down at the few people walking below, and no windows showed any light. The cobbles were wet and slippery and the collected dirt in the central gutters had started to trickle down the roads. Where the streets were simply beaten earth, they soon became muddy and as John walked there was a squelch- squelch, dirt squirted up and his ankles were splashed with spots and streaks.
But this was now so different to Peganda. He remembered again the dreadful destruction and chaos in the capital city of Lashtang, and how terrible it looked when every single building lay in ruins.
Old London was often marked with fallen buildings, and with spaces where houses had been ruined by fire. But most of the city stood grand, and there were beautiful churches, cathedrals and public buildings of great grandeur including palaces and castles. When he had been so poor and homeless, before he had discovered his father, and before Alice could claim back her home and wealth from the wicked baron, he remembered loving London, even though he had to live in abandoned slums and eat what he could steal from the markets.
In many ways, it had been the arrival of Nathan that had made all the difference and started the great changes and adventures. So now that Nathan’s little sister was in such terrible danger, and all the fault of his own horrible grandmother, John was determined to save Poppy and make sure the wretched Violet Crinford could not cause any more trouble for any of them. John felt determined and confident for his life in Lashtang had made him strong. There was no way he would give up.
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