Charlie Watts and the Rip in Time

by Marcus Anthony (UK) Eden-Ellis

  “I know that the king will receive my lady Matilda in the great hall, I spied on him and Sir Geoffrey when they were discussing it yesterday and I heard every word that they said.” Longhaired Nick seemed anxious that the other man should believe him and he detected a serious tone in Nick’s voice that he had not heard before.

  Charlie knew immediately that he was hearing something of critical importance and that his suspicions had been correct. Not only was Longhaired Nick involved in mischief; it seemed like it was mischief of the highest order. He must be in league with Sir Baldock, and this third person, in some plot or other. What was it? He listened further.

  “And you are completely sure that there will be no men at arms?” asked the other voice.

  “Completely,” answered Nick. “It will be a gesture of goodwill from the king. I overheard them saying that the king and my lady will be alone and that all armed men will stay in the watching chamber. The doors will be closed and locked.”

  “Good, as long as we follow our scheme closely, the abduction of the king will not be discovered for some time, which will allow us to make good our escape.”

  Charlie could barely suppress his gasp. This was beyond anything he had expected. This was treason-a plot to kidnap the king! His heart started to beat furiously and he knew he was dealing with something completely beyond his terms of reference. All he could think of was the need to warn Sir Geoffrey. But who was Nick talking to? If he could just find that out he could give Sir Geoffrey a complete picture.

  Charlie started to creep further into the tunnel, listening hard and straining his eyes to try and recognise the other man with Nick. All he could say, with certainty, was that the man spoke well. This indicated a nobleman. He did not however, recognise the voice at all. He had heard enough though and knew where his duty lay: he had to immediately raise the alarm. The visit of Matilda in three days time to discuss a treaty was simply a cover to abduct the king and then… what? Charlie didn’t know; perhaps a ransom or a forced agreement to recognise Matilda as the undisputed monarch of all England. Or… Charlie could not contemplate it but it was a stark possibility. that they intended to kill the king. These were times when the rule of law was flexible, to say the least, and most people lacked either the will or the inclination to see justice done. The king had shown him nothing but good-natured kindness and was, in Charlie’s opinion, a sincere and fair person. He had heard that the opposite was true of Matilda.

  Charlie could not identify the man Nick was plotting with but he could tell all he knew to Sir Geoffrey who would warn the king. The meeting with Matilda would be called off and Longhaired Nick arrested, and then he would be forced to talk. Charlie realised what he would be letting his tormentor in for. If he refused to talk he would almost certainly be tortured and, because Charlie was a compassionate person, he could not suppress a shudder of dread but quickly forced the thought of torture from his mind. He guessed that like all bullies Nick was a coward; he would blurt out everything that he knew as soon as he was threatened with anything painful.

  He began to back slowly away from the two conspirators; back towards the entrance to the tunnel so that he could make his was back up the spiral steps to the courtyard. The conversation seemed to be finishing

  and Charlie knew that he needed a good start so that he could be back in his cell before Nick returned. He made it into the small subterranean room, turned and took two silent steps forward. His third footstep, however, caught on something quite heavy and he could not stop himself stumbling over and crashing to the ground, knocking over whatever it was his foot had caught on. As he tried to scramble up he realised it was a wooden pail that he had not noticed before and he also realised that, to his horror, the perfect acoustics had worked in reverse and the noise had carried down the tunnel to the two plotters. They had fallen silent.

  In seconds, Charlie realised that there were footsteps running down the tunnel toward him. Longhaired Nick was on his way. Charlie managed to scramble to his feet and, in the flickering half-light, he saw the foot of the stairs and made a leap for them. He no longer cared about being quiet; all he cared about was avoiding capture and making it to Sir Geoffrey so that he could unmask the plot. Charlie scrambled quickly up the stone steps and even though they were damp and slimy his footing remained sure. It helped that he was wearing training shoes and not the felt boots that his pursuer was wearing. Far below him Charlie could hear that Nick had crossed the small anteroom and had started up the spiral steps. His heart began to race and adrenalin squirted into his bloodstream. He realised, with a sense of elation, that he was going to reach the top before he was caught. He would be able to flip open the flagstone, scramble through, slam it shut, and be across the courtyard and out of sight before Nick reached the top.

  He was nearly there, but he could hear the sounds of his pursuer seeming to gain on him and a cloud of doubt scudded across his mind; nearly there… then he was at the top. He pushed with all the strength he could muster and the flagstone swung upright as if on a well oiled hinge and Charlie saw the moon filled night above his head-he had made it.

  He quickly started to pull himself out of the hole and managed to extract most of his body before he felt Nick’s bony hand encircle his trailing ankle and hold fast. Charlie let out a cry of despair. He was about to try and raise the alarm when all of the air was knocked from his body as Nick, with surprising strength, yanked him back into the hole. Charlie struggled and kicked out but to avail; within seconds he was back in the hole and being dragged back down into the slimy stairwell. He realised

  that he could not get away from Nick but he still tried to kick, fight, punch-anything to try and break the grip that Nick had on him.

  Suddenly, Charlie saw the unmistakable glint of a knife blade. It lit up the leering, grinning face of his tormentor, his nemesis in this time; Longhaired Nick. They are all the same, Mick Clark or Longhaired Nick; a bully is a bully no matter when he is born. Charlie was on his back at the top of the stairwell and Nick’s face was just a few inches from Charlie’s. Charlie could smell Nick’s breath and it was a disgusting, almost putrid stink of ale and onions. Nick’s teeth were grey and chipped. His lips were thin and colourless. Panic and dread filled Charlie’s brain as the knife blade was held at his throat. He felt its sharpness as it bit into his flesh.

  “Now, if this was my choice,” whispered Nick quietly, but with more venom and menace than Charlie had ever heard before, “I would slice your throat right through, here and now, so that your head was only held to your neck by a few tatters of skin. I could hide your runty little body where worms would make a meal of you in a day and no one would ever know where you went.”

  Little disgusting bits of old food and spit landed on Charlie’s face as Nick spoke.

  Charlie believed every word that Nick said and he suspected, quite rightly, that if Nick murdered him it would not be the first time he had killed. As if to make his point even clearer, Nick applied a little more pressure to the knife at Charlie’s throat.

  “But I can’t right now because I have someone who wants to talk to you. Now there is a very easy way to do this, Charlie Watts, you do exactly as I say and when the time comes I will be very easy on you and make it quick. If you struggle or give me a hard time, then I will give you pain and you will never have felt such pain. So much pain that you will carry it with you in Hell, which is where you will be going, for all eternity. Now don’t say a word, just nod your head and let me know that you understand what I am telling you.”

  Charlie was as fearless as someone of his age could be and, when confronted with the likes of Mick Clark, he had always stood his ground despite the beating or humiliation that would inevitably follow. However, that was all it ever was, a beating or some kind of transient humiliation, both of which Charlie could deal with. But this was different; the knife at his throat was real and the threats from his captor were equally real
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br />   and Charlie knew that he simply had no choice in the matter. He briefly considered one final struggle and a desperate bid for freedom but, in the same instant, realised that this would mean immediate death. Instead he calmly and quietly nodded his understanding and for extra assurance said, “I understand, I will not give you any trouble.”

  Charlie was, of course, intending to give Longhaired Nick a whole heap of trouble if he could. He correctly guessed that the person that Nick had been talking to was the one who wanted to speak to him and that the same person had control over Nick and had given him an instruction not to do Charlie harm. Charlie decided that the best course of action was to allow things go the way that Nick wanted and to string it our as long as possible. He would, however, take his first opportunity to escape, without hesitation.

  “Good… good…” nodded Nick. “ Although just a little disappointing Charlie Watts because I would like to have done you right here and now. I ain’t killed in months and it would be so satisfying to gut you from here to here.” He traced a line with the point of the knife down from Charlie’s throat, along his chest and down to his stomach.

  A shiver of fear ran from the top of Charlie’s head to the base of his back and his normally unshakeable sureness wavered. He felt the slightest swelling of salty tears behind his eyes but his shook himself free of it as soon as it came. One thing that he had learnt was that bullies love to see distress and tears; it is the fear that they thrive on, it is what they want. Nothing gives them more pleasure than to have power over another human being, the power to create misery and pain and to do so with impunity.

  Nick took the weight of his scrawny body slowly off Charlie and hauled him to his feet, never letting the knife blade lose contact with his throat. He shoved Charlie in front of him and gripped the back of Charlie’s tunic tightly.

  “Now go down the steps, slowly as you like. If we were to tumble right now, my guess is that this dagger of mine would probably end up sticking right out of your heart. Don’t you think?”

  Charlie nodded and took the steps carefully one at a time, steadying himself by placing his outstretched hands on the walls as they started the descent back to the subterranean passageway.

  When they reached the bottom, Nick adjusted his grip on Charlie and moved the knife to the small of his back. Even though Charlie had Martin’s old thick woollen tunic and a tee shirt on, he could still feel the point of the knife and knew that a single thrust from Nick and the blade would be deep inside him. Longhaired Nick forced Charlie toward the tunnel and then motioned for Charlie to walk back along it to where he had seen the two conspirators plotting.

  The tunnel was longer than Charlie had thought and he saw that Nick had managed to cover a huge amount of ground to catch him. And Charlie, being Charlie, also marvelled at the acoustics of the construction which had allowed him to hear every word that was being said as if he had been stood shoulder to shoulder with the two men. Then, as they approached the end of the tunnel, which Charlie imagined must have passed under the outer walls of the castle, the figure of Nick’s co-conspirator came into view. Charlie strained to recognise the man but could not. He had expected to meet Sir Richard Baldock and was surprised that this was a totally new face. It was not someone from around the castle at all. Nick finally released his talon-like grip on Charlie and pushed him with such force that he was thrown to the ground, right at the feet of the second man.

  “So, you are a little sly spy for the false king, are you?” The man’s voice was soothing-full of warmth and seeming good humour, but it was the kind of voice that uses charm to mask violence and menace.

  Charlie looked up at him and saw that he had guessed right about the man being a noble. He was dressed in expensive clothes and furs and was clean in a way that only the nobility were clean. Which is just to say he was less dirty than everyone else. The man was tall and very thick set and his eyes gleamed with a scheming intelligence. He appeared more intrigued by Charlie than threatened by him.

  “But you are a mere slip of a lad aren’t you? Remind me of your name.”

  “Charlie Watts… “ said Charlie getting slowly to his feet.

  “Hmmm. Charlie Watts,” muttered the man. “I have heard of you from Nick here. I understand that you bested him in a fight. I am mildly surprised, to say the least. You don’t look to have enough meat on you to feed a crow let alone the strength to win a fight.”

  The man shot a disparaging look at Nick who mumbled something inaudible.

  The man ignored the remark and continued. “Of course the question is what to do with you. Nick here would happily cut your throat, if I was to decide that that was the correct course of action. I on the other hand, am given over to be a little more circumspect about my actions. What did you overhear Charlie?”

  Charlie knew that by his response he would either buy himself some time or have himself summarily executed. But he also sensed that the man was interested in him and that he did not want to kill him right away.

  “I did not hear much at all my Lord,” answered Charlie with what he thought was a suitable tone of subservience.

  “Oh come now, Charlie Watts, do not take me for a fool. What did you hear and what did you intend to do with the information that you gained? Do not lie to me boy because I will know and although you find me reasonably tempered now, I will soon tire of the game. Tell me.”

  Once again Charlie considered his position and realised that, as usual, a mixture of truth and fabrication was probably the best course of action.

  “I followed Nick because I was curious about what he was doing creeping around in the middle of the night. I suspected that he was up to no good and, although it is none of my concern, I wanted to know what it was. I followed him down here and then I saw him talking to you. I tried to listen but could hear very little. You were talking about the visit of the Lady Matilda and I assumed that you were making arrangements. What they were, I don’t know because that is when I kicked over the bucket and realised that you would know I was here. That was when I ran and then Nick caught me.”

  Charlie wondered if he had said enough and if he had been convincing. He felt he had given a very plausible account of his actions and had used just the right tone to make himself believable. He looked at the nobleman before him and tried to see if he could discern what he was thinking. He need not have bothered because the man made his thoughts perfectly clear.

  “Well, Charlie Watts, I have asked you a question and you have answered but you are of course lying, that much is clear. However, much as I am moved to simply allow Nick to dispose of your ragged little body, I suspect that you may prove useful to me but I do not at the moment know

  how. I am interested in where you come from, you have an education of sorts, that is evident and your manner of speech is strange. I think I may allow my inquisitors the opportunity to extract some more information from you.”

  Charlie felt his blood turn to the consistency of iced water and realised that the man was suggesting torture. He did not have more time to think about the implications of this because he saw the man give a slight nod to Longhaired Nick and the next thing he felt was a sharp blow to the back of the head. Charlie’s world turned to black oblivion.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The following morning, Longhaired Nick was curled up on his straw mattress and dreaming of a place where he was a king and everyone had to bow down to him. In his dream he had a gleaming white castle with a hundred sumptuously decorated rooms and twice as many servants. He had pretty young girls swooning with love as he walked past because he was strikingly handsome and well proportioned. He commanded an army of a thousand knights and all the English earls bowed down before him in awe. He was the master of all he surveyed; rich beyond the dreams of pure greed and blessed with good health, a keen mind and athletic prowess. Not only all this, his dungeons were also full of his enemies and he was personally
enjoying torturing and executing them at his whim. All in all, life was sweet for Longhaired Nick, the kitchen boy, the divine king to be.

  His dream was rudely interrupted by a sudden and shocking sensation. A pail of ice cold water was tipped over his head and he received a painful blow to his stomach. He spluttered awake and let out a howl of pain that ended in a whimper. He managed to turn his face up to see his attacker and there stood Sir Geoffrey de Lancie, the master knight of the castle, with a scowl on his face and an empty pail which he casually tossed to one side.

  “Where is Charlie Watts?” bellowed Sir Geoffrey.

  “I….” Before Longhaired Nick could answer he felt another painful blow, this time from the leather booted foot of the knight.

  “Mind you tell me the truth now, kitchen boy. If you do not you will be dangling from the battlements within the hour.”

  Nick could see that Sir Geoffrey was in no mood to be trifled with or, lied to, but Nick also considered the knight to be bumbling buffoon

  and long past his prime. Longhaired Nick was tough and wily and now had powerful friends who would soon humble this old man but he realised that right now he needed to appear frightened and cowed by Sir Geoffrey.

  “Sir, I know nothing of Charlie Watts’ whereabouts. I swear upon the grave of my mother and her place among the angels of the Lord. I have been in bed from early last evening and have not seen the boy since yesterday afternoon.”