by Alex Duncan
‘Good folk, I realise that the hour is early but we are here on a most pressing engagement in the King’s name. We are looking for a gentleman who goes by the name of Mr Henry Versatile. Do you by any chance know where we might find him?’
Rosie was shaping the word ‘no’ with her mouth when her father cut in.
‘You need look no further Captain,’ he said, straightening his back as best he could. ‘I am Henry Versatile.’
The captain quickly righted himself and saluted most nobly.
‘Mr Versatile sir, it is an honour sir,’ he reached out his hand and Henry shook it. ‘My name is Captain Fielding sir.’ He nodded to Sam and made a small and confused bow to Rosie. He had never seen such an attractive lady walk around barefoot in the jacket and breeches of a town’s guard before.
‘Ah yes, Captain Fielding,’ said Henry. ‘I too have heard good words about you. How can we help you on this fine morning?’
‘I thought it might be us,’ he gestured towards his men, ‘who could help you. Did you not send a letter dated two days ago to the King?’
Henry remembered handing the letter to the maid in the Hope and Charity. He hadn’t thought of it for a moment since.
‘Indeed I did send the letter Captain,’ he admitted. ‘I was confused by our case here in Hope, why we were sent here and so forth and I requested…advice, nothing more...’ ’His voice drifted off and he tapped a forefinger to his pursed lips.
‘The King did not send you to Hope,’ said the captain.
‘I gathered that,’ huffed Henry.
‘He was concerned that you had been sent on a false errand, and so bade us to find you and be of assistance.’
‘I’m afraid you’re too late. All the fun is over. Only the cleaning up is to be done, tying up the loose ends and so on…’
By now a crowd had gathered on the street to see what all the commotion was about. The town’s folk jostled with each other for a good view of the fine soldiers, so much nobler than their own miserable guards, and people were even leaning out of the windows lining Corin Street above the shops, still wearing their nightgowns, and peering down below.
Captain Fielding, used to the attention he and his soldiers garnered, tapped the tip of his polished boot against the cobbles and huffed through his nose.
‘Sorry to hear that sir, my men were quite eager for a little rough and tumble. You’re certain everything is done and dusted?’
‘Done, yes, dusted, no. There’s plenty to do if you’re willing. There’s a whole field of prisoners out of the town who need to be reunited with their families, a factory of useless machines that need to be destroyed and a monstrosity of bodies beneath our very feet.’
The captain chuckled.
‘It seems the rumours about you are quite true Mr Versatile. What on earth has been going on here?’
‘Don’t ask,’ answered Sam.
‘Very well, we’ve come all this way we may as well be of some service. Who’s in charge in this place?’
‘Erm…’ said Sam.
‘Well someone must be.’
The crowd now buzzed into life, whispering and shuffling as Captain Fielding called into the street.
‘Who is in charge here in Hope?’
No one answered him but the excitement grew ten-fold, as more and more joined the rapidly growing throng.
‘Will no one take charge?!’
The question hung in the air.
‘I will!’
All heads turned as one and the crowd parted. Striding towards them was a strongly built man with a ruddy complexion dressed in simple brown working clothes. Most of the folk there knew him as the landlord of the Hope and Charity up Hope Hill. It was Samuel Steadfast the elder. It was Sam’s father.
‘If there’s no one else, I’ll take charge here captain.’
‘And you are?’
The man stretched out his hand.
‘I’m Samuel Steadfast the elder, my son there has helped put an end to all the horrors that have been going on around here, if you ask me he should be given a bloody medal. I’ll be able to explain to you precisely what’s been going on.’
Sam felt a lump rise in his throat. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling as he watched his father lead the captain off to one side, away form the gathering crowd, but he thought it might be pride.
‘Oh, one more thing Mr Versatile,’ said the captain, drawing away from Mr Steadfast, ‘I was ordered to make sure I placed this into your hands personally.’
Henry took the brown parchment from out of Captain Fielding’s hands and turned it over. On one side was his name in swirling penmanship and on the other was the royal seal pressed into a circle of blood red wax.
‘Who gave this to you?’ asked Henry, warily.
‘The King himself sir.’
‘You’re sure of that?’
‘As sure as my eyes can be sir, he handed it to me in person.’
‘Very good, just checking, carry on.’
Henry broke the seal, turning away from the crowd and quickly read through the letter.
‘What is it?’ asked Rosie, leaning over him to get a look.
Henry dropped his arms down and slowly wiped a sleeve over his brow.
‘Well…?’ she pressed.
‘It’s our next job,’ Henry sighed. ‘We have to leave at once.’
‘What?’ Sam blurted out. ‘Just like that?’
‘Captain Fielding, is our carriage waiting?’
‘It’s right there sir,’ he pointed behind the troop and true enough, their post chaise and four stood ready, doors open and Norberry sitting atop the cab, leather reigns held tightly in his hands.
Henry pushed through the crowd towards it, followed hotly by Rosie and Sam.
‘But, it can’t be,’ bleated Rosie. ‘We haven’t slept or eaten or anything...’
‘We can do all that en route.’
‘But, where are we going?’
‘I’ll tell you once we’re on the move.’
‘But…’
‘We’re going girl. We’ll have our things packed and collected from the Hope and Charity by the captain’s men. This is our job Rosie, you know that.’
The old man threw his stick inside the cab and pulled himself up and into his seat.
‘Morni’ sir,’ Norberry called down to him. ‘Glad to see you’re still lookin’ well.’
‘Less of the cheek thank you Norberry, it’s been a trying night, to say the least.’
Rosie, too flustered and dazed to do anything else, followed her father and stepped up into the carriage, taking her seat next to him.
‘So that’s it,’ said Sam. ‘No thank you, no goodbye, no well-done-boy-you-did-good-now-leave-it-to-the-grownups?’
Rosie turned to him. His face had fallen. He looked utterly downtrodden and she struggled to find the right words.
‘Sam…’
‘Don’t bother Rosie…I mean Miss Versatile…I just thought that…well…what I mean to say is…’
Rosie almost laughed aloud at how pathetic he was being.
‘Don’t look so glum Sam,’ she said, reaching out her hand and taking his. Sam looked up into her pale blue eyes and felt himself blush as she smiled that special smile he hoped was saved just for him. ‘We don’t need to say goodbye, or thank you, not just yet anyway.’
‘Why’s that?’
She pulled him up onto the first step of the carriage and gave him a little wink.
‘You’re coming with us.’
THE VERSATILES
WILL RETURN
Alex Duncan is a teacher based in the Isle of Man. He lives with his wife, daughter, dog and cat in a rambling house surrounded by sheep and mist. He trained and worked as an actor for over ten years before writing his first bestselling novel, Fynoderee. When he isn’t working he will be walking, making films, staging plays and generally making stuff up.
Also by the author.
Fynoderee
"Is this magic?" aske
d the boy, unable to hold his curiosity any longer.
"No. It's not magic," said the creature, as calm as before. "It's just...different."
For Juan Kerruish, a boy only ever noticed by the school bullies, his world is about to turn upside down. When he meets Bea the Fynoderee, a creature thought to exist only in myth, he discovers that he carries a message from the past that could change the course of the future.
In a time when the old and new worlds collide with life threatening consequences, the few who stand in the way of an ancient evil must face and conquer their ultimate fears if ever the land and their loved ones are to be saved.
Available online and in all good bookshops.