Charlie Watts and the Rip in Time

by Marcus Anthony (UK) Eden-Ellis

  In the end he settled on the saddlebags. He slung them over one shoulder and the battle sword he hoisted onto the other, and then he turned and started to make his way back to the castle. Before he left he spoke to the groom.

  “Greetings,” he began, trying to get a handle on the use of language that would draw the least attention to him. “I am Charlie Watts, squire to Sir Geoffrey de Lancie of Bagshotte. I would be grateful if you would mind these belongings until I can return for the rest of them. Will you do that?”

  The groom to whom he had asked the question was a good-looking lad of about seventeen, with short brown hair and a friendly looking face. He gave Charlie a smile and said, “Greetings to you squire. I will be here for a while attending to Rufus. But you need not worry; no one would steal from Sir Geoffrey. You could leave his goods here all night unattended and they would be here in the morning.”

  “Oh that’s good,” said Charlie, taking an instant liking to the groom and flashing back a friendly smile. “Um…and I don’t suppose you could tell me where to find the rooms of Sir Geoffrey could you. You see this is my first visit to Sherebrook Castle and I do not know my way around very well.”

  The groom looked him up and down a little and seemed to be trying to determine what sort of person Charlie was. Evidently he felt Charlie was a person worth bothering with because he said, “Tell you what Charlie Watts, you help me finish up here with Rufus and I will show you the way to Sir Geoffrey’s quarters. I can also help you carry everything so that you will not have to make two trips.”

  Charlie was desperately relieved to have met a reasonable human being, someone that appeared to not be totally self-interested, someone who not only had a pleasing manner but who was also prepared to help him out a bit.

  “Thank you very much,” said Charlie. “I accept. What is your name?”

  “I am known as Martin Thomasson. And that fellow over there is my apprentice Eustace.” Martin gestured to a skinny youth emerging from one of the stalls. The other groom nodded to Charlie and Charlie nodded back. Charlie helped Martin finish Rufus, he fetched water, unbaled some hay, groomed the horse with a brush and soon had the work completed.

  Martin was good for his part of the deal and helped Charlie gather up Sir Geoffrey’s belongings and then led him back into the keep courtyard and through a different entrance to the one that Longhaired Nick had emerged from earlier. He led Charlie through several passages and up a flight of stone steps, along another passage, and finally, into a room that was about the size of Charlie’s bedroom at home. This, Martin informed Charlie, was Sir Geoffrey’s quarters. Charlie looked about him and saw that it was a plain and simple affair, stone walls, stone floor with a mat made from what Charlie assumed were reeds and a small narrow window without glass but with a wooden shutter that could be pulled across to block out wind and rain. There was a wooden bed in one corner with a lumpy looking gray mattress on it, a pillow of the same colour and several blankets made of rough looking wool. In another corner stood a plain wooden table and two chairs and a wooden pail. On the table was a half burned candle in a candleholder and a couple of wooden mugs. Finally, there was a huge wooden chest finished with clasps and handles of black iron. Charlie placed the belongings on the floor and Martin did the same.

  “How long have you been a squire?” asked Martin, with a smile.

  “Well not that long really. In fact I only started today,” answered Charlie truthfully.

  “Yes, I thought something like that,” said Martin. “And I suspect that you do not know what you should know?”

  “You would be suspecting correctly,” admitted Charlie.

  “Stand the shield in the corner, place the clothes from the bag in the chest, put the sword on the bed, unpack the saddle bags and place whatever is in there on the table. The wine in the clay bottles should also be put out on the table. Go to the well, which is behind the keep, and draw a pail of water and bring it up here. Then go down to the kitchens and ask for Tom the Cook, tell Tom who you are and ask him for some new candles for Sir Geoffrey’s room. Also ask for a loaf of bread and some cold meat and put that on the table in here. When you have done all that, wait here for Sir Geoffrey to return and tell him that his horse is stabled well and that the grooms have done a good job. Point out where you have put everything, ask him if he requires any other service from you and if he has no further tasks for you then you can go to bed yourself. You will be able to sleep in one of the small cells next to the kitchens; you cannot miss

  them, just go through the kitchens and through the red painted archway. Along the right wall you will see the cells, just choose an empty one and that will become yours.”

  Charlie took it all in, and understood exactly what he had to do. “Thank you very much Martin. I am so pleased to have met you. I could not have done this without your instruction.”

  “I am sure that you will pay me back one day Charlie Watts. I sleep at the stables so if you need some advice, come and see me.” He gave Charlie a slap on the shoulder and was gone in an instant. But then he stuck his head back around the door, “By the way Charlie Watts, the king arrived yesterday to spend some time here. If you encounter him, or his courtiers, somewhere in the castle, make sure you bow low until he has passed.” Then Martin was gone again.

  Charlie considered what he had just been told. The king! That really was something else. Time travel, acquiring the status of squire, seeing Sir Geoffrey kill the outlaw, meeting Longhaired Nick-Mick Clark’s medieval counterpart-and the possibility of seeing a king of England, all in one day! Then he wondered which king. His grasp of English history was reasonable but he couldn’t remember which king was on the throne in-what had Sir Geoffrey said-1140?

  Events had moved very fast and Charlie had not had time to truly contemplate his situation. He suddenly felt very tired. But, finding a second wind, he completed all the tasks in the room as described by Martin, then found the water well where Martin had told him it should be and drew the water in the pail and made his way to the kitchen for the candles and bread. As he travelled about the castle he passed many people hurrying to one place or another. Most did not give him a second glance although, occasionally, someone recognised that he was different in some way. Maybe it was the glasses, or perhaps they spotted the now dusty trainers or his jeans, his white tee shirt was certainly attracting some stares. He resolved to speak to Martin in the morning about finding some clothes that were more appropriate to the time. He could change his clothes and could get away with not wearing his glasses all the time; after all, he only needed them for seeing at a distance. He realised that he needed to blend in a little more so that he could avoid undue attention. Then he needed to set to work on finding his way back to his own time. He realised that he was starting to feel a little cold, it had been a warm

  day but the night would be cold and he had come through the time tunnel with just his tee shirt.

  He found his way to the kitchens and saw a small round bald man and asked him if he was Tom the Cook. The man said that he was not but he pointed him out.

  “Hello, are you Tom the Cook?” asked Charlie.

  “Yes I am,” answered Tom looking Charlie up and down, as everyone seemed to do.

  “Good. My name is Charlie and I am the new squire to Sir Geoffrey de Lancie. I am preparing his room for him and I would like to get some new candles, some bread and some cold meat.”

  “Oh would you? Well, what if I do not have any of that?” Yet another awkward customer thought Charlie. He sighed deeply.

  “Look, I have been told by Sir Geoffrey that I should get everything that he needs immediately. He also told me that I should inform him of anyone who becomes difficult and he will see to it that they are hanged in the morning. He seemed to be in no mood to argue.” Charlie decided that attack was the best form of defence and it had the desired results.

  “Um. well. y
es, here you are, some candles for your lord and if you come over here.yes that’s right, here is some meat and bread. Come and let me know if you need anything else.”

  “Thank you Tom,” said Charlie with a huge smile on his face and finally Tom seemed to soften and gave Charlie a halfhearted smile back.

  Charlie spun around to return to Sir Geoffrey’s room and walked straight into the bony frame of Longhaired Nick.

  “Whoa. careful! Watch where you are going, Sir Horses Arse from Putney. Otherwise I may have to arrange for a little hanging of my own.”

  Charlie ignored him, dodged around the black clad bully and went on his way. Not before Longhaired Nick had placed a well-aimed kick squarely on Charlie’s backside. Charlie burned with fury and considered turning and taking Nick on face to face but he held his anger in check. He knew that it would do him no good whatsoever to draw unwelcome attention to himself so early on. He also knew that that kind of reaction is exactly what the bully wanted and it would simply act to spur him on with greater enthusiasm. The best plan was always to try and ignore it. Sometimes the problem just went away because the oppressor would tire of not getting a reaction. He would move on to another victim. Well,

  that was the thinking. Nick didn’t bother with Charlie any more at that moment and Charlie heard him start a conversation with Tom but did not try to hear what it was about. He wanted to complete his work so that he could get some sleep.

  Charlie had finally completed the tasks described by Martin. He decided to rest a while on Sir Geoffrey’s bed until he returned. He sat at first, and then decided to lay down, just for a few minutes, and then, he was in a deep restful sleep.

  THIRTEEN

  Charlie was finally back in Gramps’ house and he realised that his “trip” to medieval England had all been a daydream. He was sitting in Gramps’ kitchen eating his way through a glorious mound of hot toast smothered in butter and marmalade, and Gramps was preparing bacon, eggs and baked beans. The dream of knights, dirty castles and dead robbers was long over. It was almost too good to be true. In fact it wasn’t true at all. Charlie was dreaming. He had sat down to rest on Sir Geoffrey’s bed and had meant to contemplate the day that had passed but as he lay back and put his head on the pillow he had drifted off into a deep sleep. He was in the process of relating the tale to an incredulous Gramps when he suddenly became aware that the house was rocking back and forth as if it was caught in a violent earthquake. He tried to find something to grab hold of and his grandfather was shouting “Charlie. Charlie… Charlie…” Finally, the voice of his grandfather filtered away and it was replaced by the deafening voice of Sir Geoffrey. The rocking motion of Gramp’s house became the hand of the knight shaking Charlie awake. He opened his eyes and realised that he was not back in Putney but was, in fact, still in Sherebrook castle and everything he had thought might be a fantastic dream was, in actuality, real. In a moment of blinding clarity Charlie understood how ridiculous it was to be awoken from a deep dream of normality into a real world of total fantasy.

  “Hey up Charlie Watts. I am ready for my bed and you appear to be on it!” Sir Geoffrey stopped shaking Charlie and he got up off the bed.

  “I am sorry Sir Geoffrey,” said Charlie, “I was just so tired and I am afraid that I fell asleep.” Then Charlie remembered the instructions given to him by Martin the groom and he said, “I have put all of your belongings

  where they should be. I have fetched some new candles and food from the kitchens. Is there anything else that you require of me this evening?”

  “No Charlie Watts, except I would be grateful if you would take my breastplate and helmet with you and clean them both in the morning. I will come and find you and give your instructions for the day.”

  “Yes, okay.”

  “Okay? What kind of word is that? I suppose it is a Putney word eh?”

  “Yes Sir Geoffrey. That is exactly what it is. It means,” Charlie thought for a couple of seconds, “Thy will be done.”

  “Then it is a good word Charlie.”

  Charlie realised that this was the first time Sir Geoffrey had used his name and not added “Watts”; he wondered if that was significant.

  By now the knight had removed most of his clothes and was just in leggings and an under vest. “Well, I intend to sleep now so you can retire to the dormitory. Do you know where it is?”

  “Yes, I do,” answered Charlie, “I put the pail over in the corner for you to wash.”

  “Wash!” laughed Sir Geoffrey, “I bathed not more than four weeks ago! I won’t need one again for a few more weeks yet. The pail is for my toilet. Now be off with you. Clean my armour in the morning and I will come and find you.”

  “Of course Sir Geoffrey,” said Charlie and he gathered up the breastplate and helmet and left the room.

  Charlie found that the dormitory was little more than a series of small recesses set in a wall near the kitchens; they were just meant for sleeping and were not designed to be a home of any kind. They all had a piece of rough sacking drawn across them and sounds of sleeping coming from the other side. Evidently they had occupants and Charlie walked along until he found one that was empty. He threw in Sir Geoffrey’s armour and then climbed inside and felt around; there was straw on the floor of the cell, which seemed to be fresh (it didn’t smell) and Charlie was so tired that once he laid his head down he was dreaming in an instant.

  This time he was telling his best friends Jerry Squires and Emma Bartholomew about his adventure. Jerry and Emma were listening intently. That was all he remembered about that dream.

  FOURTEEN

  The following day dawned bright and clear and Charlie was already awake. The noises of the kitchen had begun at about four o’clock in the morning and no one seemed to care in the slightest if someone was sleeping just a few feet away. There was constant shouting and clattering around and people were walking past Charlie’s cell without giving a thought to the occupant. However, none of the other sleepers seemed to be bothered because the various snores that Charlie could hear did not falter once. They were used to it, supposed Charlie. He drew back the heavy sacking across the entrance to his cell and looked out. Though it was still quite dark the passage outside was brightly lit with candles on iron stands and the kitchen was almost ablaze with light as there were three big fires burning in grates and more candles dotted around. The candles, Charlie noticed, seemed to give off more light that the small ones his mother used in a power cut. He wondered why that was, but, as he had no way of finding an answer he didn’t dwell on it. What he did need was food and to go to the toilet so he hopped out of the cell and walked into the kitchens where he was immediately spotted by Tom the Cook.

  “Charlie Watts, squire to Sir Geoffrey de Lancie! I bid you a good morning! What do you want?”

  “Cup of tea, toast and some Sugar Puffs would be nice,” said Charlie, as he walked without further comment past a bewildered Tom.

  By now Charlie had realised that things were very different in these times regarding personal hygiene and matters of a bodily nature. He didn’t waste time looking for a toilet area which was not going to be there, he simply walked across the small courtyard and found himself a dark corner and relieved himself against the wall.

  “Oi! What are you doing?” shouted one of the guards at the gates. “Go and take a piss in the latrines. Are you a savage or something?”

  “That figures,” thought Charlie and he finished, zipped up his jeans and walked back to the warmth of the kitchens.

  Once back in the kitchen he walked over to the largest of the fires and, careful not to get in anyone’s way, he took a seat where he could get some warmth. No one took any notice of him, except Tom the Cook who came over and said, “Here you are, I thought that you might be hungry.”

  Charlie looked and saw that Tom was holding out a plate on which there was a half a loaf of dark brown bread
, some cheese and a several slices of cold ham. Tom also held out a wooden beaker.

  “Some food and some ale,” he said.

  Charlie took the items saying thank you and giving an appreciative smile. He ate the food, which, for the most part, tasted, as you would expect medieval food to taste-different. And he drank the ale, which was like a cross between cold tea, lemon barley water and petrol. As he ate and drank he stared into the flames of the fire and wondered what Gramps was doing to find him. All the old questions came flooding back. For all he knew time had no meaning whatsoever on this side of the time tunnel and no time at all had passed in 2006. Perhaps he was destined to live out his entire life here in the past with no one realising that he had even gone. The thought sent shudders of terror down his spine and he suddenly felt very, very alone. No one cared about him in this time; if he were to disappear tomorrow everyone would shrug their shoulders and just get on with their daily lives. He thought about the people he had met; Sir Geoffrey who seemed like a firm but fair person and whom Charlie liked. He was aware that without Sir Geoffrey’s help he probably would not have made it through the night. Longhaired Nick was the nastiest person Charlie had ever met and he resolved to avoid him at all costs. He realised that he did not actually know what Nick’s role was; he had just appeared from the castle yesterday and then he had bumped into him again in the kitchens yesterday when he was getting Sir Geoffrey’s food. He decided that was something he wanted to know and to ask the groom, Martin Thomasson, today.

  Of course Martin was a different matter. Although he seemed to be a couple of years older than Charlie he was genuinely nice and Charlie instinctively knew that he could be a trusted friend. Then there was

  Master Thomas who had greeted Sir Geoffrey yesterday. Charlie had not seen him again but he guessed he would and he made a mental note to also ask Martin what position Master Thomas held in the castle. Tom the Cook seemed like a reasonable person despite his bluster and Charlie was grateful for the food and ale, even if it did taste like plasticine, cardboard and petrol.