by Amy Myers
My head was spinning like a top. Was this going to link up with Zechariah’s story? ‘Mr Timpson said Pip was murdered by a crooked lawyer.’
‘He can’t have been, because I’m descended from him. But I don’t think he ever knew about the play. Shakespeare’s great-nephew knew about it though — Charles Hart was an actor at Drury Lane theatre and lived in the house where Mr Harcourt’s home was. He met Pip’s son.’
I’d seen a flaw in this. ‘How did your family get hold of the Seven Deadly Sins if Pip didn’t know about the play?’
‘It was something to do with the Boy in the Alley. I’m not sure of the details.’
Another squeak from Ned. ‘I knew it, guvnor. I said that Boy had something to do with that bloke’s death.’
There’d be no holding Ned now, I thought despairingly. The Ordinaries were going to be most interested in Phineas’ story too — especially if Mr Shakespeare had really played a bigger part in writing it than they thought, or pretended, he did.
‘There are a lot of people who want to see the Tarlton manuscript, Phineas,’ I warned him.
‘I know. I was stupid to take it to Mr Harcourt, even if it did mean I could marry Hetty with the money. Joe swore he’d give the manuscript to my mother when we had it back, but I knew he wouldn’t. That’s why I tricked him out of it.’
‘You hid it well.’
‘Thanks to my cat Jeoffry,’ said Phineas fondly. I thought of his cat Jeoffry fighting Slugger Joe and now he was looking at us as though butter would not melt in his mouth.
‘What will you do now, Phineas?’ Flint might not guess that the Tarlton script was back here yet awhile but it wouldn’t be long before he did, so it couldn’t stay here. My question had been about his plans for the manuscript, but Phineas wasn’t bothered about that.
‘Ask Hetty to marry me.’ He glanced at me and smiled. ‘I’ll go to the procession tomorrow.’
That was good news — except that the Tarlton manuscript would be here in his room unguarded, save by Cockalorum. I saw Cockalorum’s eyes follow Ned as we left Phineas’ home, but he made no attempt to follow. Ned took that bravely but I could see he was hurt.
For all my pleasure at Phineas’ release, I was filled with foreboding at what might happen tomorrow. The Seven Deadly Sins manuscript had been responsible for two murders, and one, probably two, false imprisonments. And tomorrow there might be further mischief. When we reached Hairbrine Court, however, Kwan-yin sang to us so peacefully that I wondered whether she and Cockalorum were the most sensible of us all.
XVI
The Coming of May Day
‘It’s May Day, guvnor.’
I didn’t need Ned’s shouts of joy to tell me that, for all that my eyes were still closed. No chimneys would be swept today, but what awaited us might be far from joyful, unlike my usual pleasure at the sweeps’ celebration. Normally we sweeps lead the procession through our respective areas, heralded by a brass band. I’ve never known why this tradition grew, but it is our day of glory, the one time of the year when sweeps mix with everyone else without complaint.
The sweeps are followed by three very important people: Jack-in-the Green, the Queen of the May — and the man who walks alongside with the collecting dish. All very cheery, but mindful of the unknown that lay ahead I decided to take the collection bucket myself, so that I could arrange to be near Ned.
Somewhere in the crowds that would be swarming around us could be Slugger Joe and his crew and possibly Lairy John with his Swell Mob. And hovering over us would be the shadow of Flint. Perhaps I was seeing dark clouds where none existed, but I tried not to fear. Ned would be partly protected at least, but Flint might have his eyes on another target: Phineas himself would be dancing alongside his Queen of the May, and Phineas would be Flint’s route to the Seven Deadly Sins. Flint knew Phineas had owned it, he knew it hadn’t been found in Phineas’ lodgings or mine, nor, he would rightly assume, had it been at Newgate.
Raiding Phineas’ home again would present difficulties as at Constable Peters’ urging, Inspector Wiley had placed a man to guard his room. But at the procession Phineas would have no such close protection, although there would be uniformed peelers present. How many, I did not know — but they would not be able to shield him all the time, and Flint’s men could be posted at intervals along the route from the Tower of London to London Bridge waiting for the arrival of Phineas, the dancing fool. There is nothing so scary as merrymaking all around when the devil threatens.
Somewhere in the crowd would be Constable Peters himself, I hoped, and perhaps one or two of Inspector Wiley’s men, but what could they do, surrounded by swarms of onlookers and procession followers?
‘Hurry up, guvnor,’ Ned pleaded, jumping up and down like a jack-in-a-box. He wouldn’t be able to do that in his May Day wicker outfit.
‘Breakfast, Ned.’ This sounds grand as though a table were laid before us with nourishing food, but there was not. I had found threepenny piece in the tin, though, which would buy us a cup of coffee and a muffin.
Our first job after a call at the coffee stall was to collect the greenery I had gathered and left in Doshie’s stable. He wouldn’t be coming out today, and he was beginning to look aggrieved at the tickly firs that surrounded him. Another master sweep was organising the Jack-in-the-Green cage that would, I hoped, protect Ned to some extent. When all that could be seen of him amid the leaves would be his eyes and part of the rest of his face, it would be hard to identify him and the cage would make it no easy task to carry him off. In the midst of such a crowd, though, how easy for one person to disappear, when screams of fear can be taken as fun …
Between us and reinvigorated by breakfast, Ned and I managed to carry the greenery down to Trinity Square behind the Tower of London, where the procession would be forming.
‘Look, guvnor, there he is!’ Ned cried.
He sounded so anxious that I thought for a moment it was Slugger Joe he could see, but it wasn’t. It was young Bert, a sweep from Wapping way, half hidden under the wicker cage he was carrying. I could hear church bells ringing and they sounded all the more glorious because it was May Day and summer was on its way. When we arrived in the Square it looked as though all London was gathered to welcome the coming of the sun, with bright coloured clothing, pipes, whistles and the sound of singing everywhere. I wondered whether Her Majesty Queen Victoria had her own procession to greet the coming of May, but she was still grieving over the sad loss of Prince Albert.
Ned ran off to be fitted into his cage and have the greenery tucked around him, while I went to greet Hetty, who was already on her wagon with her two pretty attendants just behind her. Hetty was by far the prettiest, though. She was sitting demurely on a stool, her full skirts spread decorously around her, and a stick in her hand for a sceptre.
‘There’s a surprise coming, Mr Wasp,’ she giggled. ‘You just wait and see.’
By a surprise, she would mean her coronation at the start of the procession when our local chief master sweep places a crown on her head. He isn’t really our chief, but he’s the oldest of us, nearly fifty years old, which is a venerable age hereabouts. I have great respect for him as he taught me my trade the way it should be, after I’d been snatched away from the fate of being a climbing boy.
The band struck up with a merry song … and off we went. I walked at the back of the sweeps’ group as near as I could be to Jack-in-the-Green, carrying my collecting bucket and trying to watch everywhere at once without forgetting my role. Behind the band and in front of the sweeps I could see Phineas dancing and wondered why he wasn’t beside Hetty, who had now been crowned and was waving at the crowds just like the Queen herself used to, before Prince Albert died.
I realised then why Phineas chose to be where he was. He knew Slugger might be after him and he didn’t want to endanger Hetty. Her wagon was some way behind Ned, who had a little procession of his own, as he swaggered along in his cage behind the sweeps, with his own attendants around him
and me at his side. My word, he did walk proud.
We set off in fine style down Great Tower Hill towards London Bridge where we would be meeting the Southwark sweeps’ procession from the other side of the River Thames. We passed the spot where Phineas had so often played the fool and I could see him now dancing ahead of the sweeps in his fool’s costume; the band’s music could hardly be heard what with the yelling crowd.
By the time we turned into Great Tower Street the crowds were swarming all around us and I began to panic, although I wasn’t sure what I feared. Another kidnap? Another murder? I remembered Jericho’s baleful eyes at the warehouse and William’s determined pursuit of Hetty. I remembered Mrs Fortescue’s vengeful outbursts against Mr Harcourt and most of all I remembered that Flint might be here.
Rubbish, I tried to tell myself, but you don’t have to feel the hail and rain on your face to know there’s a storm brewing, and I sensed one was coming at any moment. I comforted myself that there was a band protecting Phineas, together with a dozen or so sweeps, and Ned was safe enough behind them with me as well as his four attendants at his side. What’s more, my bucket had already attracted a nice pile of farthings and halfpennies, and even a threepenny piece or two.
We were coming to the end of Great Tower Street, near to where it runs into King William IV Street where the grand statue of the late king looked down at us benignly. I began to feel easier because the road down to London Bridge is wider and I wouldn’t feel so trapped. I even began to enjoy the music and laughter and I could hear Phineas singing Under the Greenwood Tree — though it was Ned who looked under that at present with his little face peering out from the cage.
Then everything changed.
At first I couldn’t work out what was happening. This must be Hetty’s surprise, I thought, as the procession halted at the turn into King William IV Street. It could get no further as another procession was coming in from the Cheapside direction; it must have been arranged that we would join their procession after it had passed the junction with our road. Being stationary made me uneasy, though. As we waited, the music of our band was clashing with theirs which added to the general hubbub; there came their band and sweeps, followed by their Jack-in-the-Green and then their wagons, which had banners proclaiming that they were the City Sweeps.
That’s where the real surprise lay. I saw Clara waving furiously from a wagon gaily decorated in huge letters with ‘Dolly’s Chop House’. She was dressed in all her finery making a grand sight, although Jericho and William at her side didn’t look grand or happy at all. I wasn’t happy, either. Fears began to creep up on me again, especially when I saw another wagon pass bearing a banner proclaiming ‘The Tarlton Ordinaries’ with a copy of the picture of Richard Tarlton displayed at Dolly’s. There were the Ordinaries, with their fool’s caps, just as I’d seen them at Dolly’s. One was playing a tabor, another a pipe, though no one could possibly be hearing it in this general din. They looked so innocent, so jolly, that it was hard to believe that a murderer could be amongst them.
Even Mrs Harcourt was present, in her widow’s black, breaking with convention perhaps in order to assert her rights to Tarlton’s play yet again. It could have been this reminder that I hadn’t yet fulfilled my pledge to find her husband’s murderer that made me feel I was only a drumbeat away from trouble, though there was no sign of it yet. Our procession duly began to move again, and shortly we reached the hubbub around London Bridge where the Southwark sweeps were already merrymaking.
London Bridge is famous all over the world and thousands upon thousands of people and vehicles pass over it each day, the slower traffic to the sides and the faster in the middle. But today all such traffic was halted for an hour or two while the three processions met on the bridge. Today, we didn’t even have to pay our tolls. As was our May Day custom, we sang our sweeps’ songs together and much jollity followed, with Ned and his counterpart from Southwark jigging up and down while the sweeps blew whistles at them and cups of ale miraculously appeared from nowhere. Even I was carried away with the excitement and whisked Clara nearly off her feet while dancing a jig with her. What’s more, I was even able to have a dance with Mrs Snook who kindly said she’d let me off my vow to eat my topper if I saw her dancing.
And then it began.
I suddenly realised with dismay that I’d lost sight of Phineas so I hurried back to Hetty’s wagon in the hope he’d be there. He wasn’t there though, and a pang of fear struck at me just as despite the noise all around me I heard a cry of ‘Tom!’ I turned, saw Clara running towards me and somewhere I heard Ned.
‘Guvnor!’ he was screaming.
I couldn’t see him, only hear him, but Clara seized my arm and together we tried to fight our way through to him. What had happened? Was he under attack? We found him sobbing with fear, but otherwise safe.
‘What’s amiss, Ned? Someone hurt you?’ I asked anxiously as Clara comforted him as best she could with that cage around him. ‘Who? Where?’ It was hard to think let alone see for all the racket and singing and dancing around us.
‘It’s Phineas,’ he sobbed. ‘They’ve got him. Jericho.’
I left Ned in the sweeps’ care and struggled my way through to where Ned was pointing, with Clara in my wake. By now all three processions had massed together and in the chaos I couldn’t see Phineas or Jericho and I’d lost Clara. Then I did see William, just as Clara reappeared and clutched at me.
‘Jericho’s gone mad, Tom,’ she cried. ‘Stop him.’
Me? Stop a six-foot giant? Yes, I could — I had to. My old knack of squirrelling up chimneys came back to me as I wriggled my way through the crowd to the side of the bridge where I was just in time to see Jericho landing a punch on William’s face. Phineas? Where was he? When I reached them, I saw him lying at their feet by the bridge railings. Still clutching my bucket, I threw myself at Jericho who, taken by surprise, released his hold on William who promptly ran off.
‘You fool!’ Jericho yelled at me. ‘You’ve let him go, Wasp.’ He seized me, trying to pull me along with him, but I managed to shake him off and drop to my knees beside Phineas.
‘What have you done to him?’ I shouted.
Phineas wasn’t moving.
Jericho yanked me up in fury. ‘Not me. William — he and some other chap were dragging him away.’
‘Rubbish!’ I yelled as he let go of me so suddenly I lost balance and fell down almost on top of Phineas, sending my bucket spinning. Jericho had vanished and I anxiously tried to see how badly Phineas was hurt. At least he was alive as I heard him groan. ‘I’ll find the peelers,’ I told him, trying to stand up but failing. ‘They’ll nab Jericho all right.’
‘William.’ Another groan from Phineas. ‘It was William.’
I couldn’t make sense of this. Phineas must be mixed up, because he’d been hit so badly. ‘That can’t be, Phineas.’
‘Joe was with him. William works for him. He’s his snitch.’
I was busy picking up farthings and pennies and this information brought me to a standstill. I couldn’t understand this. William working for Slugger? Right now though something else was more important.
‘Where’s that Tarlton script?’ I asked Phineas. ‘That’s what everyone’s after. Did you tell anyone where it was?’ Did the Tarlton Ordinaries have some other mission here than merely celebrating May Day?’
‘No,’ Phineas said, hauling up first himself and then me. I was aching all over, but there were no bones broken, I’m glad to say, and Phineas too seemed to have escaped that. ‘Jericho got there in time,’ he added. ‘He fought them off.’
I still could not take it in. I’d assumed that it was Jericho who was the one to watch and William was in fear of him, but instead it seemed it was the other way around. William must be one of Slugger’s men, and Jericho had been watching him. Instead of the help that they’d given us at Billingsgate being just a moment of compassion for a young boy, Jericho must have forced William to take him to where Ned was. Had Je
richo perhaps been following William on his way to Lairy John’s when I saw him in Spitalfields? But William was Hetty’s devoted swain, Clara’s prized waiter, who was so eager for money that he wouldn’t want to lose his job at Dolly’s. Or had Slugger paid him so well it was worth the risk? It was all a puzzle, and no mistake.
All of this flashed through my mind just as I realised the current danger.
‘Where’s the Tarlton play?’ I yelled at Phineas. Although there was a guard at his lodgings, it was possible Flint might send in more than one of his mob.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he reassured me happily. ‘Hetty has it.’
I gaped at this. ‘Here?’ That would put her in danger. Wherever that manuscript was, there might be Flint or Slugger. Hadn’t Phineas realised that?
Hetty and that manuscript needed protection, I insisted, and dragging Phineas with me we both limped back to her wagon. She was sitting there alone, with no sign of her attendants, but looking anxious, until a big smile crossed her face as she saw Phineas and me. Then she must have seen we were limping. ‘Oh, are you hurt, Phineas? And you, Mr Wasp?’
‘Take care, Hetty,’ I urged her. ‘Phineas was attacked by William Wright.’
She stared at me in amazement. ‘Oh no. You have it wrong. You mean Jericho.’
‘Jericho saved me,’ Phineas said proudly.
Hetty looked helplessly at us. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Nor do I,’ I replied. ‘But is the Tarlton play safe?’
‘Of course. Cockalorum sees to that.’ She smiled.
‘Cockalorum?’
‘I’ll show him to you if you like,’ she added blithely.
With that, she lifted her skirts just enough for my amazed eyes to see a wicker cage with its front open and Cockalorum glaring out at me, ready to pounce. My eyes were even more amazed to see that underneath the cage was something that looked suspiciously like a folder — the Seven Deadly Sins. Cockalorum saw Phineas and purred.