Dominoes

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  Frowning, Nathan put down his knife and spoon, and looked carefully at the old man. “If you go back to Lashtang, you’ll probably be arrested again,” he said. “Since I suppose Krillester is still in power there.”

  Lob nodded. “What will you do with my son? He would be safer here, since his magic does not work in this land. But he would surely kill me.”

  Deben still sat, tied and gagged, on the floor in the corner. He had made no attempt to speak, to stand or walk even though his legs were not restrained, and everyone assumed he was quietly trying to find some magic that worked for him. “I reckons,” laughed John, “the mutton-brain is trying to get back to Lashtang. Or maybe is trying to blow us all into crumbs.”

  Over the tied napkin, Deben glared. Nathan looked down at him. “We all know you’re not Ninester,” he said. “Actually, we know Ninester very well, and his mother. Were you all surprised when the real Ninester disappeared? Or perhaps you just thought he’d run away, or been killed by Krillester. Anyway, none of those is true. We actually rescued him. Sometimes he lives with us, and sometimes he lives with his mum. He’s very happy and very safe.”

  Deben’s scowl could be seen clearly over the gag. He muttered something that no one understood. “He’s so horrible and wicked,” said Poppy, “so we shouldn’t let him go back to Lashtang.”

  “But history is history,” said Alfie. “We know the Lashtang history says that Ninester, who was really Deben, lived to be emperor, and was a right pig with nasty strong magic. So how can we change all that?”

  “That’s the truth,” said Nathan. “And I’ve suddenly thought of something because I believe that’s my test. I haven’t told you all yet, but I found the Eternal Chain. But it had a voice and said I had to be tested. This might be it. I’ve got to prove I’m not going to change history. I can change the future, but not the past.”

  There was silence, and they all sat around the dining table, staring at each other.

  “Tell us the whole story,” insisted Poppy, so Nathan began from the beginning, and explained what had happened. Even Deben seemed interested, though the prisoners had never heard of the Eternal Chain and had no idea what Nathan was talking about.

  ‘That’s mighty exciting,” said Alfie, and Poppy was practically jumping up and down.

  “Where’s Sam?” asked Alice. “He’s the only one not here.”

  “He and Hermes are back at the cottage with Granny,” Nathan explained, “because one of the lava wolves told us Sam had been there feeding them. The poor wolves are starving, and we have to send them food. Sam was kind enough to think of that. And there’s a lot more he discovered too. He was terribly brave. But there’s no time for that. You’ll hear it all when we go back to Lashtang. In the meantime we have to decide what to do here.”

  “We got no choice,” said John. “If tis yer test, then we gotta do it your way.”

  “Very well,” Nathan sighed, standing up. “I’d love to keep that horrible Deben here, but I mustn’t. So everyone else can stay if they want to, but Deben has to be sent back to Krillester and his palace.”

  “Then let’s get on with it,” said Alfie, standing up and pulling out his sword.

  “I’ll stay,” said the cook. “I want that job, m’lady. I promise to work mighty hard in your kitchen.”

  “And me,” said the guard. “I’ll work in yer stables, lady, and be a guard at yer door.”

  “My leg’s stopped bleeding,” said the wounded man. “I’ll take any job you give me if I can stay. I’m good with dogs and llamas.”

  Alice giggled. “Not so many llamas here, but you can definitely stay and work in the stables.” She looked at Lob. “You’re welcome to stay too,” she said. “There’s no fishing lake here, but you can go down and fish in the Thames on your free days if you wish. Perhaps you could help with the gardening while you’re here. It could do with being prettier.”

  “Alright,” said Poppy. “Let’s set that disgusting monster free and send him back on the ladder.”

  Both Alfie and John bent over Deben and untied his wrists and the gag, setting him free. “But I got me sword ready,” Alfie warned him. “Don’t try nothing stupid.”

  But as soon as his hands were free, Deben leapt up, turned with an eager jump, and waved his hands wildly in the air, shouting, “Bethwopping, crackshopping, and spaddlemopping. Be gone and take me home.”

  Nathan, Alfie and John grabbed him, Poppy threw the contents of the beer jug over him, and Lob Wake grabbed one of his son’s feet and hung on tightly. But Deben had managed to get some sort of magic working after all, and everything began to swirl. Scenes of strange places and events whizzed past, and there were loud bangs, crashes and whistles. Then everybody felt they were flying. Some of the group, and in particular the Lashtang prisoners, had been left behind, but everyone else flew up together. They grabbed each other’s hands, determined not to drift apart, and now a little frightened. Even Deben grabbed his father’s hand. In just a few moments they were out in the dark evening sky, with once again the full moon casting down its silvery sheen over the land below and a thousand stars glittering in the blackness.

  Landing abruptly, they discovered they stood on the edge of a great open field. It was too dark to see what exactly was happening, but they saw men running and horses galloping in the distance. There was debris on the ground, and the grassy field was badly marked as though a hundred feet had rushed across it, the wheels of carts, horses’ hooves. A cold night wind blew and carried the echoes of shouting from afar. The horses neighed and snorted, the carts rumbled, and the men yelled orders.

  Nathan stared at Deben. “What have you done?” He demanded.

  His confidence and anger had slipped, and now Deben was miserable and confused. “Dunno,” he muttered. “I said the magic for going home. But this isn’t Lashtang. What are those big black animals?”

  Alfie smiled. “Horses.”

  “Never heard of them.” Deben kicked at the flattened grass and gazed at the chilly horizon.

  “Where’s Alice?” Alfie was perturbed.

  “Alice got left behind,” Nathan decided. “Peter too. And all the other prisoners. That’s better for them. Alice and Peter can give those prisoners their jobs in the house and be safe. I’ve no idea where we are.”

  “Well, I’m here,” Poppy pointed out. “And so is Lob.”

  Deben, shivering, and his father moved closer together. Nathan, Poppy, Alfie and John looked all around them and finally decided to walk towards the crowds of busy people in the distance. “At least we need someone to tell us where we are,” said Nathan.

  “Reckon we’s in England,” said John, scratching his head. “Cos it ain’t Lashtang nor Sparkan and I don’t know no other places.”

  Poppy giggled. “Could be France, Tibet, Australia, Russia,” she laughed. “But look, there’s bits of armour on the ground, there’s a helmet, and there’s a torn banner. I think it’s a battlefield. But the fighting’s over and everyone’s going home. Wherever home is!”

  Walking slowly, they came closer to the activity and were able to see some of what was going on, but then, quite suddenly someone walked out of the shadows and approached them. He was slim, not tall, but looked like a king. His armour was shining and caught the reflections of the moonlight, and he held a huge two-handed sword. Over his armour he wore a special jerkin with a brilliant coat of arms embroidered on the back, and on his head, sitting over his helmet, was a simple gold crown.

  “Who are you?” he demanded. “This place is still dangerous, and you are not dressed for battle.”

  “We didn’t mean to come. It’s a mistake,” said Nathan.

  “And who are you?” asked Poppy. “I don’t even know where we are.”

  The man looked down his nose, evidently shocked at the way Poppy spoke to him. But he answered anyway, saying, with an imperious glare, “I am King Henry of England and France, the fifth king of that name. And this is France, where I and my people have just won a
great victory. How can you not know this? Are you all mad?”

  “I reckon we must be,” sighed John.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “When was Henry V?” asked Poppy in considerable surprise.

  And Nathan, even more shocked, mumbled, “Back in around 1400.”

  “The year,” said the king with a disdainful sniff, “Is that of our Lord, fourteen hundred and fifteen. But I ask again, who are you? Answer me, or I shall send for the guard.”

  It was only Deben who was growing angry. Principally furious that his magic had not worked, since in his own home it always worked very well, he was now also cross about the arrogant man in the crown, and his own confusion annoyed him even more. He stamped one impatient foot. “I’ve never heard of you,” he said. “Nor ever heard of some ugly field called France. I am the future emperor of Lashtang, and you should be bowing to me. Down on one knee in the mud. Now!”

  Staring at this crazed imbecile, the king now swung his sword, although stopped just in time. But he said, “If you ever speak to me again in such a manner, I shall not halt my stroke. You will die. Better men than you have been killed this day. Beware.”

  But before Deben could get himself in more trouble by answering, another man trudged over from a slightly different direction. This man was much larger. Extremely tall, and very fat, he wore clothes of amazing grandeur, and a slim gold crown on his short ginger hair. Neither handsome nor simple in appearance, this new arrival seemed even more arrogant than Henry.

  “What’s going on here?” he demanded. “On your knees, fools, how dare you make such noise in the palace grounds? And what right have you to be here?”

  The King Henry in armour stared at the very tall and fat man in the crown, and said loudly, “And who are you, sir, to wear such grandeur in my presence? You are clearly not French.”

  “French?” roared the other man. “Certainly not. I am King Henry of England and you should be on your knees.”

  The king in armour stared in disgust. “How dare you, sir? I am King Henry of England.”

  The second King Henry flew into a temper, stamped his feet, spat on the ground, and roared like a lion. “I am Henry Tudor, King of England, the eighth of that name, and no other king rules in England while I sit the throne.”

  Henry V stared at Henry VIII and certainly wondered if he was dreaming. Looking behind him, he realised that the remains of the battlefield had faded, his army, horses, carts and all had completely disappeared, and he was now standing in a hedged garden of a hundred paths, with tall trees along one line, and the shadow of a massive and palatial building on the other. He rubbed his eyes. “I am asleep. No doubt I am dreaming,” said Henry V.

  Henry VIII began to calm down and looked at the other man with somewhat more interest. “Henry V, eh? Then I’m in a dream too, I think. It can’t be real, but I’m pleased to meet such a famous ancestor. Tis well over a hundred years gone since you ruled here. Just come from Agincourt, have you?”

  Meanwhile Nathan, Poppy, Alfie and John stood close, smiling wide, completely intrigued. Deben and Lob were not so pleased, but they had both decided it was safer to keep quiet. John nudged Poppy. “You knows this is some rotten trick. It ain’t even our good King Richard. If t’were him, then at least I’d recognise him. But reckon tis better n’ Yaark or Wagster.”

  Which is when a third man strode towards the group. Very different again, this man was not very tall, slight of build, light-haired and had a very pleasant face although he was frowning. He also wore highly polished armour and carried a battle-axe.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” he said, stopping in front of the two Henrys. “And the lady,” he bowed slightly to Poppy which made her grin, “I must admit I am intrigued to know your titles and names.”

  “I am the ruling sovereign of England and France,” said Henry V, standing forwards. “I am King Henry, son of King Henry, the fourth of that name.”

  The other Henry stepped in front, breathing heavily and sticking out his stomach. “And I am his illustrious majesty, Henry the eighth, rightful and only King of England, and behind us stands my palace of Eltham where my queen, the Lady Katherine, awaits.”

  Everyone looked at everyone else. It was actually Alfie who next stood forwards. “But this,” and he bowed low, “is King Richard of England and Calais, the mighty warrior of the Plantagenet sovereigns and the ruling House of York. This is my king, and I humbly ask my friends to kneel.”

  “But it’s muddy,” said Poppy with a sniff.

  “Girls don’t kneel,” said Nathan, somewhat impatiently. “You just curtsey.”

  Alfie and John started to kneel, but King Richard shook his head. “No, no, gentlemen,” he said. “There is no need since this is either a dream or a vision.”

  “A vision,” said Henry V. “For I have never heard of a Richard III nor a Henry VIII.”

  “But I’ve heard of you both,” shouted Henry VIII with a huge cackle of laughter. “Henry V is my Lancastrian ancestor, and Richard III is the one who was king before my father. The stories about you, young man, are notorious. My father, long dead thank goodness since he was a cold and calculating creature, made most of them up, I believe, but some may be true.” He was still laughing, feeling in charge as Richard stared back, clearly confused. “So you murdered your nephews, did you? After you stole their throne?”

  King Richard III opened his mouth, then shut it again. Then, as the words sunk in, he said, “How dare you make such absurd accusations, sir? I was forced to take the throne somewhat against my wishes when one of England’s greatest families came forward to announce that my brother Edward had married their daughter in secret many years previously, and therefore his marriage to my nephew’s mother was illegal. They could not inherit the throne, which left me as the only possible choice. A sad state of affairs, but my dear brother Edward, although a good and noble king whom I admired, was not a good husband. He loved the ladies a little too much.”

  Nathan was particularly interested in this. “So what happened to them?” he asked.

  “Edward’s two boys travelled to my sister’s palace in Flanders,” Richard said, a little stiff. “But I will not answer these impertinent questions when I do not know who you are.”

  Annoyed, Henry V lifted his sword. Immediately Richard swung his battle-axe, and Henry VIII, going bright red in the face which looked awful against his ginger hair, dragged his own sword from its scabbard by his side. Henry VIII bellowed, “I shall have you all arrested. Off with your heads.”

  “What foolery,” objected Richard, striding to face him. “Who made you king?”

  “And what wife do you have at the moment?’ giggled Poppy. “The one you killed, or the one you divorced, or the poor woman who had to put up with you at the end?”

  Even redder in the face, Henry VIII turned on Poppy, but Alfie rushed between them, Richard came behind and walloped Henry VIII over the head, crown and all, with the handle of his axe, while John went to trip Henry VIII up. He promptly fell in the mud with an enormous bump as his great weight and heavy clothes all went squelch. “That’ll teach you to murder your wives,” smiled Poppy, clapping her hands.

  Both Richard and Henry V looked shocked. Richard said, “No king of our beautiful country has ever murdered his queen.”

  “Some have been locked up in the distant past,” admitted Henry V. “But never executed.”

  “Well, Henry VIII got married six times, divorced two and murdered two of them.” Nathan moved back a little when he saw Henry VIII was beginning to scramble up. “And everybody knew he was a pig,” Nathan added softly.

  “The good Lord should strike him dead,” murmured the other Henry, appalled.

  “But you ordered poor people burned at the stake,” accused Poppy, pointing an angry finger.

  “So did Henry VIII,” added Nathan.

  “I have never ordered anything so cruel,” interrupted Richard. “But I have led my people into battle, and risked death for the safe prosp
erity of my country.”

  During all this time, Lob had a tight hold on Deben’s arm, and Deben was standing still, listening to everything, and understanding nothing at all. But when he heard about burning alive, he smiled wide and shouted out, “Well, what a good idea. I send my enemies to feed the crocodiles, but sticking them on a bonfire would be a good spectacle.”

  Nathan turned on him, and both Alfie and Poppy marched over. “Sick pig,” said Poppy.

  “I wish I didn’t have to send you back to Lashtang,” sighed Nathan.

  And Alfie promptly hit him over the head with a stone he had picked up, and smiled as the young empole sank to the ground.

  Meanwhile Henry VIII had staggered up and was looking around for who to fight. He was waving his sword about rather unsteadily, and Richard promptly knocked it out of his hand. As he bent to pick it up, Deben also climbed back to his feet, yelled in anger, but then decided to join in the fun. Although he had no idea what was going on, he quickly thumped Henry VIII on the back of the head. Henry fell flat on his face in the wet grass. Deben quickly sat on his back, grabbed up a load of small stones from the path, and stuffed them down the back of Henry’s bejewelled doublet. They were cold, wet and muddy, and Henry screeched and started to rise, bottom upwards, throwing Deben off his back, to fall on the muddy grass yet again.

  Deben grabbed up more stones, Henry V turned his sword around and used the hilt as a mallet, Richard swung his axe again, Henry VIII was still nose in the mud, Nathan took out the Knife of Clarr, Alfie warned Deben to stay out of it, Lob tried to grab his son’s arm, and both John and Poppy stood back, bent over with laughter. It was at that precise moment that a large pigeon flew past and plopped a large white mess right on Henry VIII’s ginger hair, just missing the crown. John and Poppy laughed even more.

  “This is enough foolery,” shouted Richard, getting annoyed. “If this is a vision, then we should learn from it. We are all kings together, separated by a hundred years, and should speak together of our exploits and problems.”