Hide & Seek

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  “Thank you, Master Steward,” Hermes said, with a faint squawk and a rustle of feathers as he flapped in. Alice giggled and hurried behind.

  The first thing to do was relax, eat the old-fashioned food they both loved and missed (No chocolate!), greet the household, and go to sleep in their own familiar beds. Alfie dared kiss Alice’s cheek goodnight, but she blushed and quickly shut her bedroom door. Afterwards, she lay comfortably under her thick feather eiderdown, but it was not Alfie she was thinking of. It was a long list of everything she hoped to achieve back in old England, including a little mustering of those who had already promised to help, including John’s father. But exactly how she would get to Sicily and find the brigands, and the pirate ship, she did not know. Hermes could never fly them, not even as far as the market. They would attract too much attention, and Hermes’ super-fast magical flying would not work anywhere else except Lashtang and Sparkan. When Alice finally slept, she dreamed of battles and charging on the backs of llamas, and was very pleased when she woke early the next morning, even though it was a bleak and drizzling autumn day.

  The medieval break of bread and cheese was certainly not as appetising as Granny’s usual scrambled eggs, but both Alice and Alfie grinned at each other over the table, simply pleased to be home.

  “I just love Lashtang,” said Alice, “but constant danger and constant adventures are just too much for me.”

  “Well,” Alfie wasn’t quite sure about that, “I like the constant adventure. Even the constant danger is exciting most of the time. And we’re getting closer and closer to them getting the throne back, y’know. Then it will get more peaceful.”

  “Then I’ll be happy,” Alice laughed, “but you’ll be bored.”

  “You know,” decided Alfie, “if we both want to keep happy, we should visit your old estate in Devon you told me about. What’s wrong with it?”

  Alice fiddled with the last wedge of cheese. “It’s in ruins,” she said. “My grandfather left it to my mother, and then the baron claimed it. When I complained, years ago now, the king confiscated it. Now it belongs to the throne.”

  “What? Richard?”

  “No, Henry VII,” said Alice. “The one who’s king now. You know he never let me out of the marriage, and he certainly didn’t like me.”

  “But I reckon he likes females,” said Alfie, scratching his chin. “Seems to like his wife though they don’t live together and don’t see each other all that often. But he’s crazy about his mother.”

  “Well, I’m not crazy about him,” Alice declared. “He’s cold and mean and spiteful. And I’m not going to ask for my house back, since I’m sure he wouldn’t give it to me. As soon as he saw me he’d want me to marry someone horrible.”

  “Then marry me first,” said Alfie. “Go on. Do it now. Then even the king can’t get you to marry anyone else.”

  Alice was blushing. “He could. He could annul my first marriage. He’s done that to a lot of people. He’s like Clebbster – you have to do what he says, or you get forced.”

  “Go on, marry me anyway,” said Alfie. “We can do it easy here, and Hawking can be the witness, you’ve got plenty of servants. Let’s do a Hand-Fast. I want it. Then we can go back to Lashtang and shock everyone.”

  Her blushes turned in laughter. “Oh, well, why not! I suppose we always knew we’d do it one day.” She stood up in a hurry, knocking her chair over. “But wait. I want to wear a pretty dress. I won’t take long to change.”

  Although he was sure she’d take ages and ages, Alfie agreed, and sat, stretching out his legs, with a very wide grin of pleasure brightening his face. He was interrupted when there was a knock on the door. Alfie was about to jump up and tell the steward not to answer because they didn’t want to be delayed with their other plans, but Hawking was already at the door, saying, “Ah, Mrs. Crinford. I doubt my mistress is in. If you will wait, I shall go and see.” And the door could be heard quickly slamming shut again. Clearly Hawking knew very well that Mrs. Crinford was never a welcome visitor.

  Alfie was furious. This was the last person he wanted. As Hawking came into the great hall, Alfie jumped up, saying, “No, no. Don’t let her in. And Hawking, once you’ve slammed the door in her face again, then come back in here. Lady Parry and I intend getting married and we want you as a witness. Perhaps one of the lady’s maids as well – but not that vile woman outside.”

  He heard Hawking open the front door just a crack, and say, “My apologies, Mrs. Crinford, but my mistress is otherwise engaged. She is otherwise engaged and accepting no visitors so she cannot see you today.” And slam went the door again, echoing up the staircase.

  “What was that?” demanded Alice, peeping over the top balustrade.

  “Come down, and I’ll tell,” Alfie called back.

  Looking even prettier than usual, Alice was wearing a pale blue silk dress with a silver cord at the neck of her shift, and her long outer sleeves, almost touching the floor, were embroidered all over with flowers and tiny bluebirds, while her blue silk inner sleeves were also trimmed in silver thread.

  “You look right gorgeous,” said Alfie. “So let’s do it before we get more interruptions.”

  He was frightened that something would go wrong at the last minute, so he took her hand as they stood side by side in front of the huge inglenook fireplace.

  At that moment someone started to ratter-tat-tat on the window. Everyone looked over, and there was Violet Crinford jumping up and down in her big brown velvet cloak, trying to attract someone’s attention.

  “Ignore her,” commanded Alfie, although Alice was already giggling.

  Behind him stood the steward Hawking and a sweet-faced young maid who had helped Alice put on her special gown. Alice now turned to her. “Nellie, dear, please close the curtains over that window.”

  Nelly quickly did as directed, but Violet Crinford popped up at the next window along, shouting to be let in, and banging hard on the window. Nelly pulled all the curtains, but the whole hall sank into shadow.

  “Best have candles,” called Alfie while trying to ignore the continuous thumping on both the door and the windows.

  Two candled were quickly lit. Hawking stood beside Alfie and Nelly stood beside Alice, and Alfie, still wearing a huge grin in spite of the thunderous noise from outside, said, “Will you take me for husband, Lady Alice Parry?”

  “I shall,” said Alice. “And will you take me for wife, Alfie Cooper?”

  “I certainly will,” said Alfie. “And here’s the ring to prove it.”

  These weren’t the right words for a hand-fasting, but nobody cared for it was legal anyway, but Alice was amazed that Alfie already had a ring ready. “When did you get that?” she demanded.

  “Ages ago,” Alfie admitted. “Tis in me Lashtang pocket all the time just in case I get a chance, and when I come here, it goes into me purse. I just hope it fits.”

  He pushed it onto Alice’s finger where it fitted very well indeed. It was a wide golden band with a large diamond shaped ruby, and many tiny little diamond studs pressed into the gold band all the way around. Alice loved it.

  “Then we’re man and wife,” said Alfie, grabbing Alice into a big squashed embrace.

  From outside, Violet could be heard stamping and thumping, and shouting, “Let me in, or I’ll break your windows. Thieves, murder, treason. Let me in. Where’s my son? What have you done with him?”

  “I stand witness to this wedding and declare Lady Alice Parry and Master Alfred Cooper to be legally wed,” said Hawking, shouting over the noise.

  “And me too,” cried Nelly. “Husband and wife, they are, sure as I’m standing here as witness.”

  With another giggle, Alice looked at Hawking. “Well, that was certainly an unusual wedding,” she smiled. “I suppose you’d better let that horrid woman in now.”

  Violet Crinford swept in, snarling almost like Yaark. “What are you stupid people doing?” she accused, “and why haven’t you lit the fire?”


  Surprised, Alfie said, “Tisn’t cold. Tis a bit drizzly but it ain’t winter yet.”

  “Yes it is,” said Violet with a sneer, “you really are a foolish boy. It’s the fifteenth of December and winter started some days ago. We’re now in the Christmas season. But that’s definitely not why I came. It’s Arthur. Where is he?”

  Neither Alfie nor Alice had realised they had arrived back in London so late in the year, but having just arrived from Lashtang, they didn’t feel the cold. “The fire is none of your business,” said Alice crossly, “and nor is Arthur. He can go where he likes. But he’s certainly not here. I haven’t seen him for ages.”

  “I don’t believe you,” declared Mrs. Crinford. “Bring him out.”

  “D’ya think he’s hiding in the cellar or summint?” said Alfie, slipping back into the cockney accent as he often did when angry. “And we only got back here last night. We ain’t seen Arthur. Maybe at sea.”

  “Of course not, idiot,” Violet said. “Not in winter.”

  Alice was getting more and more angry. “You really are a disgustingly rude woman,” she said, “and I’m not surprised poor Arthur gets away from you as often as possible. Are you still living in his house?”

  “No, I am not,” said the other woman, trying to sound dignified. “I have my own home, but I went to see him this morning, and his steward told me he had gone away three days ago and not been back.”

  “Well, we weren’t here, and we ain’t seen him,” declared Alfie,

  Alice clasped her hands behind her back, hiding her new wedding ring. “Mrs. Crinford,” she said, with a good deal more dignity, “Arthur Crinford is a great friend of ours, and his son John is an even closer friend. You are not. You have caused all the trouble you can think of, have been considerably cruel and even if I could help you, I probably wouldn’t choose to. However, I haven’t seen Arthur, and he is certainly not in this house. I expect he’s travelling on business, even if he’s not on the ship. Now I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

  Violet Crinford promptly collapsed on the rug in floods of tears. Both Alice and Alfie were astonished, and Nelly, who had come back into the hall with a tray of biscuits, cups and jugs of pear cider, quickly put down the tray and ran to help the woman on the floor. “Oh, m’lady,” she cried, “what’s the matter?”

  “Well,” she admitted, looking up with her eyes tearful and her face streaked, “I’ve not told you the whole story. When I spoke to Arthur’s steward, he told me that three days ago, four great big fellows who looked like pirates, with swords and knives and long ugly hair, all came to the door asking for my Arthur, and he went off with them and hasn’t been seen since. I’m so worried. He might be dead.”

  “I bet they is pirates,” grinned Alfie. “He knows some, y’know. He’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

  “Real pirates?” shrieked Violet and once again burst into tears.

  “Oh, for goodness sake,” said Alice, “I suppose I should feel sorry for you but I don’t. You’re not at all a nice person. But Arthur is, so I suppose we could go and look for him.” She turned to Alfie. “What do you think?”

  “Well, we wants Arthur and his crew and the pirates too,” nodded Alfie. “So yeah, I reckon we’ll be off this afternoon and look for him. But you have to go back home and don’t ever go thumping on these windows again.”

  “If we find him,” Alice told her, “we’ll make sure he lets you know he’s fine as soon as possible. Now you must leave, or we won’t be able to go searching.”

  Scrambling up from the ground with Nelly’s help, brushing down her skirts, snatching up two biscuits from the tray now on the table, Violet Crinford flounced off, saying over her shoulder, “you’d better tell him to come home at once. He should never worry me like this.”

  Alice watched her leave and sighed, turning to Alfie. “Gracious,” she said, “I’m so glad you haven’t got an adoring mother.”

  “I can’t even remember my mum,” he said. “Maybe I never had one.”

  “Well now you’ve got a wife,” giggled Alice. “But I don’t have a mother or father either, so we just have to put up with each other.”

  That afternoon they wandered down to the docks at St. Katherine’s on the Thames, and there was Arthur Crinford’s ship bobbing on its moorings alongside the pier. Two of the crew, who Alfie remembered, were sitting on deck playing knuckle bones, and tossing silver pennies. He stood on the quay and shouted up, “Ahoy. Has anyone seen the captain lately?”

  “Yup,” one called back. “You’s that fellow come sailin’ wiv us when we went to that Sicilian island, ain’t it? Well, I knows you’s a friend, so reckon I can tell yer. Cap’n Crinford, he done gone off to Plymouth down on the south coast wiv that other fellow wot calls hisself Cap’n Terror, but really Jim, he is. Left his boat down there and they gone orff to fix it up.”

  With big thank-yous, Alice and Alfie returned home to discuss whether they should pass this information to Violet, or travel down to Plymouth themselves.

  “We go,” said Alfie. “It’ll be great and we don’t have to stay there long. But can you ride that far in this winter weather?”

  “I certainly can,” objected Alice. “I was taught to ride as a little child. And now I have some good horses in the stables. But what about you?”

  “No llamas?” sniggered Alfie.

  “That would certainly give my grooms and stable boys a shock,” Alice laughed. “So right, let’s ride to Plymouth and take a couple of guards and a couple of grooms with us. It’ll be a real old English adventure.”

  “We could take Hermes.”

  “No, he might be shot down for somebody’s dinner. I certainly don’t want to see Hermes with an arrow through his neck.” And Alice shivered.

  Hermes was perfectly happy to stay in the large warm house where he could nest in a four poster bed for a week at least, so Alice and Alfie arranged their trip and rode off south three days later.

  It was raining. “Perhaps we should have waited until tomorrow,” said Alice.

  “It’ll be raining tomorrow too,” smiled Alfie.

  The journey on horseback took several days, something they were certainly not used to in Lashtang, but they stayed overnight at comfortable inns and alehouses, and eventually arrived at Plymouth on the eve of Christmas day. The church bells were ringing as they stopped at a grand four-storey tavern, and Alfie, remembering his manners, handed Alice down from the saddle, and they swept into the wayside tavern together, delighted to see a roaring fire awaiting them.

  Their bags were untied from their saddles and taken up to the bedchamber they had asked for, and they then huddled by the fire with hot pies and hot cider until they felt warm enough to brave the weather again, and finally set out for the docks. These were larger ships and from here the great explorers often set out, and traders who sailed the Middle Sea and the other vast oceans so far discovered. They quickly recognised the pirate ship they had sailed before, and since the gangplank was down, they both climbed aboard and called, “Arthur? Jim? Tis us. Are you there?”

  Both Captain Terror and Arthur Crinford came running up the little wooden steps from the single cabin, and onto the wet slippery deck where Alice and Alfie stood huddled beneath the pouring rain.

  “Hurry, hurry,” said Jim, taking Alice’s elbow. “Tis too wet and cold. Come on down. It’ll be crowded, but tis warm too, and dry enough except for the leak.”

  They all bundled themselves into the minute cabin below deck, and Alice and Alfie took off their cloaks and tried to dry themselves off.

  “Nothing special,” Alice smiled, “but Arthur, your mother came to my house demanding to see you and seemed to think we had you hidden in the attic or something. But she got us a bit worried too, so we decided to come and find you.”

  “Now we sees you’s fine and just chatting wiv a friend,” said Alfie.

  But Arthur shook his head. “It’s not quite so simple,” he said. “The trouble is, the wretched King Henry has put
a massive tax on any poor soul with a bit of successful business, and the collector says I owe a fortune.”

  “They doesn’t dare tax me,” nodded Jim Twicker. “And I makes sure they don’t know what I got nor wot I does.”

  “But I’ve always been honest with my earnings,” Arthur said, “and as legal as any fool could be. But these tax collectors, they got strict orders from the palace, and some of them are nasty fellows. Chancellor Morton thinks he’s clever, telling these men to grab as much as they can. If a man saves hard and works hard, he says, then he can afford the tax I want from them. But if a rich man is an extravagant fool, then they’re clearly rich enough to pay a high tax bill. Well I work hard and save hard, so now I owe a small fortune. The whole country grows poor while the king grows richer.”

  “Art will be a right poor man if’n he pays,” said the other man with a snort of derision. “He reckons he might have to sell his house. Wot then? Live with his witch of a mother? An’ he slung her out, so mayhaps she won’t let him in, even though he bought it.”

  Arthur looked depressed. “And it won’t stop there,” he said. “The next voyage I go on and come back with enough money for my old age, they’ll tax me again. The collector’s accused me of hiding my riches. Not true. I’ve hidden nothing, but I’m being taxed as if I had three times the truth.”

  “I told him, hey, come play wiv me,” Jim laughed. “Don’t pay nothing. Let them confiscate the house if they want. Come sailing with me, and we’ll go a’pirating, live in Sicily with my friends where it’s warm as hippocras and food’s as cheap as grass. We can have a good life and pay no tax at all.”

  “But I won’t do it.” Now Arthur looked positively tearful. “I’m an honest man. Jim’s my friend, but that doesn’t mean I want to spend my life running away from my own country. And if a pirate’s caught, well, that’s terrible. Strung up on the gibbet near the banks of the river, and when high tide comes rolling in, you drown as well as being hung.