And with that, she jumped into darkness. A moment later, a faint thump indicated she landed somewhere below.
“Are you hurt?” Louis asked hoarsely.
There was no response.
“Catharine?”
“Yes, yes. I’m all right,” Catharine’s voice called back. “There’s a passageway down here. I’m going to find Maggie.”
“Wait for me!” Louis swung his legs over the opening and nervously dangled them, his face growing paler by the second.
“Well, are you going down?” Clemmie asked.
“Don’t rush me!”
Louis then took a long gulp before dropping through the hole after Catharine. Clemmie inched closer and peered down. He couldn’t see anything, but he heard Catharine and Louis’ muffled voices.
After a few moments, Louis called up. “Clemmie, are you coming?”
With great reluctance, Clemmie situated his body near the hole. But before he could drop down, he noticed that the golden emblem had wiggled out of place. Clemmie poked it with a finger, loosening it even more until it finally separated from the brick.
Clemmie held the emblem in his palm and stared at the engraved letters.
“Clement Moore Ogden!” Catharine hollered.
“Yes, coming,” Clemmie hissed into the hole. He slipped the emblem into his shirt’s breast pocket, and then he fell through the opening.
Seconds later, Clemmie landed in a pile of ash. Catharine and Louis were standing in a tunnel entrance; the light coming from the other end of the tunnel outlined their dusty bodies.
“Ah, there you are. I was worried you became lost on your way down,” Louis quipped before he and Catharine disappeared into the tunnel.
Feeling his pocket to make sure that the emblem was still intact, Clemmie stood up and chased after his sister and cousin.
Lloyd had gone out alone to release three sugarplums near the Sleigh Pit. But when he returned to Snop’s backroom, he brought along a familiar face.
“Harriet,” Maggie exclaimed, recognizing the Foundling.
“Did you release the sugarplums?” Ward asked Lloyd.
Lloyd nodded. “And then I ran into Harriet.” He turned to Harriet. “Tell them what you just told me.”
“The Sister Wheel has been found.”
An audible sigh rippled through the group.
“The missing Sister Wheel appears to be just a rumor started by a couple of drunk Garrisons,” Harriet said. “So Castriot knows that Alfred and Lizzie didn’t take it.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Maggie said.
“Yes, but Castriot also knows you’re hiding,” Harriet stressed. “And he’s placed a crew of Garrisons in the Sleigh Pit to make sure you don’t escape.”
“So if your family comes looking for you,” Lloyd explained. “They’re going to be captured.”
“Catharine and Louis are both smart people. And Clemmie…” Maggie paused and then added. “Well, Clemmie fancies himself as rather brilliant. They won’t come down here alone. Once they realize I’m missing, they’ll wake up the rest of my family. And then Catharine, Clemmie, and Louis can lead everyone down the ash pit.”
“Why didn’t we send the sugarplums to the adults in the first place?” Henry asked.
Ward shook his head. “When a person is older, it’s less likely they’ll believe their dreams. We’re even taking a chance that Catharine, Clemmie, and Louis will figure out the truth. Still, we should prepare as though they did realize what’s happened and that they’re coming through the Sleigh Pit. Alone.”
“What can we do?” Maggie asked.
“Well,” Ward said, shifting into action with the clap of his hands. “The Garrisons won’t guess that Alfred and Lizzie are with me, but the longer Wendell and Lloyd are away, the more suspicious it’ll be. They need to go back to the workshop and say that when the earlier incident happened, Alfred and Lizzie took off and they chased after them.”
It was agreed that while Wendell and Lloyd returned to the workshop, Ward and Harriet would stay with Maggie and Henry to make sure the rest of the family arrived unharmed.
Once Wendell and Lloyd left, Ward went over to a huge wooden crate in the corner that had the word FLOUR stenciled diagonally across its side. He reached over the top of the lid and touched around until there was a click. Ward then slid its panel open, revealing stone steps within the crate.
Maggie sighed. “I think I’ve gone through enough hidden passages tonight.”
“There’s a series of tunnels that connect all of Poppel. When the Garrisons took over, they went through every inch of this place,” Ward said and then nodded toward the crate’s opening with a smirk. “But they didn’t find these tunnels. So the Foundlings can still get around Poppel without being caught by the Garrisons.”
“And we can get to the Sleigh Pit through here,” Harriet added, joining Ward near the crate.
“Ward!” A crackly voice hollered from the front of the shop.
“It’s Houten,” Ward groaned and then turned to Harriet. “Take them down to the pit. I’ll deal with the old man.”
Harriet nodded and gestured to Maggie and Henry who followed her into the flour crate just as Ward grimly shut the panel behind them.
“We must be getting close,” Louis whispered, peering at the upcoming tunnel.
Catharine, Clemmie, and Louis were huddled in a sleigh as it rolled along the clanking chains. From the rickety sleighs to the oil lamp lit caverns, everything looked exactly as it had in their dreams. But they still weren’t confident about finding Maggie anytime soon.
“Oh, are we, Louis?” Clemmie brushed ash from his shoulder. He had been pretty sour since having his clothes dirtied. “I’d be interested to hear how you can tell. Everything down here looks the same.”
“Well, this can’t go on forever,” stated Catharine, squinting into the darkness.
“It very well may,” grumbled Clemmie. “We could be traveling in a loop. Circumnavigating the entire globe! How would we know?”
There was no chance to answer. As the sleigh entered another lit cavern, a blockade of Garrisons could be seen awaiting their arrival.
“Uh oh,” Louis groaned, recognizing the black coats.
The Garrisons held rifled muskets and upon seeing the occupied sleigh, they perched the guns on their shoulders, pointing them at the intruders.
“Off!” one Garrison shouted.
Catharine, Clemmie, and Louis scurried from the moving sleigh and crouched on their knees with hands raised above their heads.
“More of them, Cockrell,” a slender Garrison with a long nose said. “I’m starting to suspect that they didn’t just accidently wander down here.”
Cockrell, a thick man with barely any neck, stood in the middle of the pack. Gray sideburns curved along his swollen face as he lifted an arm, signaling the Garrisons to put down their firearms.
“Easy, fellas,” Cockrell bellowed as he walked his tree trunk legs toward the Moore grandchildren.
“Are you here for Alfred and Lizzie?”
Catharine, Clemmie, and Louis eyed each other with uncertainty.
“We’re… lost,” Louis said weakly, not daring to mention Maggie’s name.
Clemmie apparently wasn’t thinking along the same lines.
“We’re looking for Maggie,” Clemmie stammered.
Catharine shot him a piercing glare. She also knew it wasn’t a good idea to mention their sister’s name.
“Maggie?” Cockrell grunted. “Who’s Maggie?”
“Our… dog,” Clemmie recovered, realizing his mistake. “Our dog, Maggie. She’s a Norfolk spaniel―about yay high.” Clemmie cautiously moved his wrist to his chest and waved it a couple times.
“Yes, our dog,” Catharine jumped in. “She chased a mouse through a hole in our fireplace. We came down here, but have been unable to locate her. Perhaps you have seen her.”
“Yes, perhaps you have seen her,” Clemmie repeated mechanically. “The dog. Th
e dog named Maggie. Maggie is her name.”
“Mostly white,” Louis added. “With black spots on her back. And big ears.”
Placing hands next to each side of his head, Louis wiggled his fingers like floppy ears.
Cockrell looked back at the other Garrisons who seemed in no hurry to search for a dog.
“So if you could just help us find her, we can be on our way,” Clemmie said, standing up from the ground.
“Enough!” The flab of Cockrell’s face shook angrily. “We’re not looking for any dog. You’re coming with us. There’ll be no more talking until Castriot sees you.”
Three Garrisons grabbed Catharine and Louis and stuffed them in the arriving sleigh while Cockrell and another Garrison took Clemmie into the sleigh behind it.
“Here, Maggie,” Clemmie called halfheartedly with a whistle. “Come on out, girl.”
“Stop that,” Cockrell growled.
As Clemmie finished another high-pitched whistle, the other Garrison smacked his shoulder with the butt of a musket.
“Oomph,” Clemmie moaned, rubbing the bruised muscle.
He remained quiet for the rest of the ride.
Soon Catharine and Louis arrived at the Sleigh Pit with Clemmie’s sleigh following minutes later. The Moore grandchildren were then roughly pulled off the sleighs and lined up between two tunnel entrances.
“Before you’re taken to Castriot, would you like to share the truth about your whereabouts?” Cockrell asked.
There was silence until Louis stuttered, “Who’s Castriot?”
Under his dense nose, Cockrell’s lips curled into a sly smile.
“You will soon find out. And once you have, you will not easily forget.”
Cockrell nodded and the Garrisons grasped the arms of Catharine, Clemmie, and Louis. But suddenly the oil lamps in the Sleigh Pit went out, and like a cloak being thrown over the room, it became completely black. The Garrisons let go of the intruders and instantly clutched their rifled muskets. But it was too dark to shoot.
“What is going on here?” the voice of Cockrell boomed. “Who’s there? What’s happening?”
Catharine, Clemmie, and Louis were clustered together, but then shadowy figures unexpectedly swept through, whisking them away one by one. The grandchildren didn’t make any noise, hoping that whatever had grabbed them was better than the Garrisons.
Catharine, Clemmie, and Louis were led through a passageway and then into a round chamber that emerged out of the darkness. Although it was crowded with half a dozen people, Catharine instantly laid eyes on a brunette girl.
“Maggie!”
“Shh!”
Catharine turned and saw Henry Livingston dressed in a green coat and black hat. He was not only the person who had hushed her but also the one gripping her arms. As the two made eye contact, Henry appeared stunned at the sight of Maggie’s older sister. He didn’t even notice that Ward had let go of Clemmie and Louis.
Maggie’s stomach dropped as she watched how Henry continued to hold Catharine. But her eyes were pulled away as Louis gently grabbed her shoulders.
“Maggie, what happened to you?” Louis asked.
Meanwhile, Catharine was glaring at Henry as he still absentmindedly held her arms. “Release me, Mr. Livingston.”
Henry relaxed his grip and flushed pink. Catharine instantly marched over and wrapped her sister in a hug. “Maggie, are you hurt?”
Harriet stepped forward. “I thought you said your name was Lizzie.” She looked at Henry, adding, “And it’s Alfred, isn’t it?”
The Moore grandchildren and Henry swapped glances.
“Who are you, really?” Ward asked.
Ward had met up with Henry, Maggie, and Harriet right before the other Moore grandchildren arrived. The plan was to sneak Catharine, Clemmie, and Louis into the tunnel located between the piles of broken sleighs in the back of the Sleigh Pit. But when they saw Cockrell and the other Garrisons, they knew they had to make quick adjustments. Maggie and Harriet put out the oil lamps while Henry and Ward snatched the Moore grandchildren.
“We don’t need to say anything until I’m told where we are,” Catharine said, rubbing Maggie’s back protectively.
Maggie explained about following Wendell down the fireplace. She told about Henry getting punched by McNutt and then being captured by the Garrisons before finally becoming new Foundlings. She finished with the sugarplums they had sent to Chelsea Manor. Maggie was sure that of everything discussed, the sugarplums would certainly be the part needing further inquiry. But Catharine was hung up on just one detail of the story.
“What were you doing in Chelsea Manor?” Catharine twisted about to face Henry.
Henry appeared taken aback by Catharine’s attack. But with a reluctant sigh, he repeated what he had told Maggie earlier in the library.
“That’s impossible,” Clemmie said, placing his hands stiffly on his hips. “Clement Clarke Moore not being the rightful author of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas? I don’t believe it.”
But before Clemmie could debate Henry on the literary merits of Major Henry Livingston and Clement Clarke Moore, Harriet chimed in.
“You’re related to Major Henry and Sidney Livingston?”
Henry nodded.
“And you four are the grandchildren of Clement and Catharine Moore?”
“Yes,” Clemmie replied dully. “So?”
All the Foundlings looked around at each other, making the Chelsea Manor visitors feel as though they were being kept out of an important secret.
“What is it?” Catharine asked, not hiding her frustration.
“What is it? What is it!” a voice crackled from the doorway. “You are the grandchildren of Clement Clarke Moore and Major Henry―both related to the Van Cortlandts, and the keepers of the two remaining Sister Wheels.”
A stout, plump man wobbled into the room; his cane striking the stone floor with each step. Bushy white hair swirled out from underneath his blue top hat while his wrinkled eyes squinted through oval glasses, staring at the Moore grandchildren huddled together.
Ward stepped forward grudgingly. “What are you doing here, Houten?”
Houten cackled hoarsely. “You think I can’t move around these tunnels, eh? Well, I’m sorry to say that while I’m slower than you Foundlings, this old body can still trudge along. And these nearly blind eyes can still spot when a panel on an empty flour crate is cracked open.”
Ward groaned, realizing that in his hurry he had left the tunnel entrance ajar.
“That little light show you just pulled in the Sleigh Pit won’t go over well,” Houten continued. “You best head back up to Myra Lane unless you want the Garrisons to think you’re aiding the Van Cortlandt descendants. And if you don’t think they’ll eventually figure out their true names as you all just did, you are gravely mistaken.”
Houten’s eyes moved to Maggie and then over to Henry. He raised his crooked finger and pointed at the pair. “It’s like seeing the second coming of Catharine Moore and Sidney Livingston.” Catharine, Clemmie, and Louis came into focus and Houten added, “And those three as well. No doubt from the Van Cortlandt bloodline.”
“What are you saying, Houten?” Ward asked.
Houten strained his eyes in Ward’s direction and smacked his gums as he spoke. “Ward, these intruders are the only hope for Nikolaos of Myra returning to Poppel.”
he Foundlings were sent back up the tunnel to Myra Lane, leaving Henry and the Moore grandchildren with Houten who smelled like peppermint.
Facing the group, Houten planted his cane steadily between his bowed legs.
“It’s been so long since I saw a Van Cortlandt descendant. Mrs. Catharine Moore and Mr. Sidney Livingston were always running around here with young Margaret. Such lively little ducks.”
“You knew my father?” Henry tilted up his top hat, exposing his untidy bronze hair and intrigued expression.
“Sidney? Why, of course, I knew Sidney Livingston. I knew Major Henry, as
well. And Major Henry’s uncle, Pierre Van Cortlandt, the great-grandson of Oloff and Annette Van Cortlandt.” Houten looked at Maggie. “And your grandmother, Catharine Taylor Moore, was a descendant of the Van Cortlandt family. Catharine’s grandfather Philip was the great-great grandson of Oloff and Annette Van Cortlandt. And you know who Annette Van Cortlandt was?”
“The daughter of Grace Loockerman―the eldest of the three sisters,” Louis replied as though answering a question in school. The story Maggie had told the other grandchildren was still fresh in his mind.
“Indeed,” Houten nodded. “But there is a portion of the tale I am certain you do not know. After Nicolas Poppelius went to help the Martyrs of Gorkum, the three girls were left with the unlimited time. So Grace, Sarah, Lily, and the Foundlings continued living their extraordinary long lives even after Nicolas disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Henry repeated.
“It was reported that Nicolas Poppelius as well as eighteen others were mutilated and hanged outside of the town of Brielle in the western part of the Netherlands.”
Maggie let out an abrupt noise at the horrific image.
“Do not distress, young duckling,” Houten reassured. “That is just how the story goes. But it is not so. Nicolas Poppelius rescued those men and fake remains were sent to Belgium where they were appropriately placed in the Church of St. Nicholas. Nikolaos of Myra and those men secretly vanished, but no one knows to where. In the meantime Grace, Sarah, and Lily continued to run Poppel.”
“Until Grace married Jan Loockerman,” Henry said.
“Indeed. But not every sister supported Grace’s decision to leave Poppel. For when one sister gave away her immortality―it was taken from them all.”
“Oh, really. How so?” Catharine hastily asked, clearly disbelieving the story.
But Houten didn’t catch her incredulous tone and continued to explain.
“The Sister Wheels, of course. Nikolaos of Myra gave each sister a wheel. When brought together, the wheels granted unlimited time to those in Poppel. But if one sister left―the gift was broken. When Grace married Jan Loockerman, Sarah supported her―even if that meant giving up their everlasting youth. But Lily did not. Angrily, Lily took her wheel and went in search of other means to not inevitably succumb to death. Meanwhile, Grace and Sarah welcomed old age and passed their Sister Wheels on to Annette Loockerman before she headed to America. Annette eventually gave the two wheels to her eldest son, Stephanus, who continued the tradition of passing them down the Van Cortlandt line, along with the secret of Poppel.”
Krampus: The Three Sisters (The Krampus Chronicles Book 1) Page 10