by Megan Rix
‘Are we going?’ George asked Humphrey.
Lots of the kitchen staff would be required to feed the members of Court while they were in Tunbridge.
But Humphrey shook his bald head, which was covered in a thick layer of ginger-spice paste today.
‘We’re one of the few that aren’t needed,’ he sighed. It would have been nice to get out of London and into the countryside for a bit.
Once the servants had set off to get everything ready for them, the king and queen and all the courtiers prepared to leave too.
Tiger Lily came into the kitchen to see her friend Woofer, as she did every morning. Her long feathery tail wagged happily and Woofer’s tail-stub wagged back just as quickly as the two puppies sniffed each other’s faces.
The next moment Tiger Lily let out a squeak of surprise as James Jack lifted her up.
‘There you are,’ he said. ‘The king’s been waiting for you!’
Woofer ran after Tiger Lily as James Jack carried her out of the kitchen.
‘No, Woofer,’ said George, but Woofer didn’t listen to him. He wanted to be with his friend.
Tiger Lily wriggled in James Jack’s arms, wanting to be with Woofer.
Woofer gave one of his distinctive barks as George ran up to them.
‘OK, you can say goodbye,’ James Jack said, putting Tiger Lily down for a second.
As soon as she was on the ground Tiger Lily ran to Woofer and licked his face. George gave her a stroke. He was going to miss the little spaniel while she was gone.
‘His Majesty’s waiting,’ James Jack said, and George nodded.
‘Back to the kitchen, Woofer,’ he commanded firmly and Woofer followed him as Tiger Lily looked after her friend, whining as James Jack carried her out to the waiting carriages.
She wasn’t at all happy to be separated from Woofer. Even being the only one of the king’s dogs allowed in the royal coach and being petted and stroked by His Majesty didn’t cheer her up.
‘You’ll soon forget all about the kitchen dog when we reach Tunbridge,’ the king told her.
Tiger Lily gave a big sigh as she looked out of the window. There were horses and coaches following them for as far as she could see.
Soon they’d left London and were heading into the Kent countryside – further and further away from Woofer.
When Tiger Lily didn’t come to the kitchen the next morning Woofer ran up the stairs to the king’s apartments to see where she was. He scratched at the closed door and barked his deep bark but the door didn’t open.
George found the puppy lying outside the king’s door, waiting for Tiger Lily to come out and play, the rope toy beside him.
‘She’ll be back soon,’ George told the little dog but Woofer just gave a big sigh and rested his head on his paws.
Teeth and Claws headed over to the turnspit wheel where they spent most of their days, but they weren’t going in it today. Woofer was.
He was no longer a young puppy and George and Humphrey had decided it was time for him to learn how to be a turnspit dog. Woofer thought he’d rather play in the garden but he didn’t have a choice as George lifted him up and put him inside the wheel.
Woofer wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do and tried to jump out at first but soon realized he was shut in. The outside of the turnspit wheel had four spokes to it. The inside of the wheel had wooden struts built across it to stop the dogs from slipping. It was still hard for Woofer’s paws to get a grip but it was easier than usual because the wheel had recently been given a good scrub.
Woofer thought he’d rather be on the ground and not in the wheel. He gave a whine.
‘You’re OK,’ George reassured him. All of the kitchen dogs had to work, just as all of the kitchen staff had to. The life of the turnspit dogs was hard but at least they weren’t on the streets and there was enough food for them.
‘Put a bit of hot coal in with him, that’ll speed him up,’ said one of the kitchen boys.
George rolled his eyes. ‘And when it burns his paws and he’s limping, we’ll be down a dog,’ he said.
‘And my meat won’t be roasted then,’ Humphrey said, flicking the boy’s ear. ‘Might as well put you in there with a bit of hot coal. Although it’d be a squeeze.’
Now the boy looked worried as he imagined what it would be like to be trapped in the wheel for hours.
‘I’ll empty the waste buckets,’ he said, and hurried off.
George started to turn the wheel slowly to show Woofer what he needed to do.
‘You’ve got to keep walking so the meat keeps turning round and round and doesn’t get burnt and blackened,’ he told him.
The wheel wasn’t wide enough for a dog to lie down, even a small dog like Woofer, at least not comfortably, anyway. Woofer gave a whine and put out his paw to George. It broke George’s heart but Woofer had to learn. He turned the wheel some more.
‘That’s it, Woofer!’ he said as Woofer began to walk in the wheel. ‘That’s it – good dog.’
Woofer didn’t like walking in the wheel very much, but he did like making George happy and so on he trotted.
‘Good dog, Woofer,’ Old Peg told him.
George gave him a sliver of meat as a reward.
‘That’s enough for today,’ he told Woofer.
As soon as he opened the wheel Woofer jumped out of it and ran into the garden. He didn’t want to go in there again.
‘That’s another reason why geese are better than dogs in the turnspit wheel,’ Humphrey said.
‘What do you mean?’ George asked him.
‘Geese don’t run away or hide when they’re supposed to be working,’ Humphrey laughed.
Meanwhile, down in Kent, Tiger Lily watched the other royal dogs splashing about in the river with James Jack and the king. It had taken most of the last day of July to get to Tunbridge but once they were there the very first place James Jack had taken the dogs was a shallow part of the river so that they could cool down. After that they’d gone to the river every day and sometimes twice a day.
‘Come on in, Tiger Lily,’ the king called to her. But Tiger Lily wasn’t ready to go in very far just yet and stayed on the bank cooling her paws. The next time she went to the river, though, she ventured in a little further. And the time after that, on a very hot day, she had her first doggy paddle.
By the time the visit to the spa town was over Tiger Lily loved going in the water. She showed no fear as she glided through it with hardly a splash. She’d even managed to catch a small trout, albeit by mistake, and the king had been so proud of her that he’d insisted it was cooked and presented to her for supper.
On the journey home to London, Tiger Lily sat either on her cushion, or the king’s lap, a much happier puppy.
‘The king and his Court are coming home at last,’ Humphrey told the kitchen staff. George smiled. It had been nice to have the palace to themselves but it hadn’t felt right without the normal hustle and bustle.
‘Tiger Lily’s finally coming home,’ George whispered to Woofer.
Woofer tilted his head to one side as if he recognized Tiger Lily’s name and then wagged his tail-stub. George was happy and that always made the little dog happy too.
Woofer stood next to George as the carriages came in through the palace gates. He didn’t know quite what was going on, but everyone around him was excited and it was infectious.
Inside the royal coach Tiger Lily saw Woofer and stood up on her velvet cushion, which was placed next to the king, wagging her tail and yapping.
Woofer barked in reply, only his bark, like that of all Wicklow terriers, sounded as if it came from a much larger dog.
The next instant Tiger Lily jumped out of the carriage’s open window and raced over to George and Woofer.
‘Tiger Lily, come back!’ the king shouted, and the carriage ground to a halt as did all the other carriages behind it.
George brought Tiger Lily back to the king, closely followed by Woofer.
‘I
see she hasn’t forgotten you or her friend Woofer,’ said the king. He opened the carriage door and Tiger Lily hopped in and Woofer hopped in after her.
‘I’m sorry, sir,’ George said, reaching in to haul Woofer out again but the king looked at the two dogs playing together and smiled.
‘Get in too,’ he told George.
George pointed at himself in surprise and then sat down opposite the king on the very edge of the crimson-silk seat that matched the crimson reins of the horses, and rode into the palace instead of walking as he’d always done before. He couldn’t help thinking that Gran and Annie would never believe this when he told them!
Master Vogel saw George in the carriage and gritted his teeth. That kitchen boy was getting far above himself, riding with the king and with that mutt of a dog. If he had his way, there’d be no dogs in the palace kitchens, spreading fleas and diseases.
CHAPTER 7
Tiger Lily was delighted to be back home and she soon reacquainted herself with all her old favourite places, accompanied by her best friend Woofer. The kitchen was her first port of call, where she was given tasty treats and cuddles by Humphrey; then the king’s secret doorway that lead out on to the banks of the river, and the Privy Garden where she and Woofer played and played.
One sunny day at the very beginning of September, as Old Peg was sitting huddled close to the fire, despite it being very hot in the kitchen, George and the dogs came back in from their morning walk. Half the time Old Peg seemed to be asleep, and no one liked to move her, so there she stayed by the fire. But that morning Old Peg’s misty blue eyes suddenly flew open and she pointed at George.
‘Go home!’ she shouted at him. ‘Go home right now!’
Something about the way she said it made him turn and run.
Woofer ran after him and George was too worried about his gran to take the dog back to the palace. Together they raced along Thames Street and up Fish Street Hill until they came to Black Raven Alley. The raggedy cat that always used to be on the roof wasn’t there any more.
George was just about to open Gran’s front door when he saw a plague doctor wearing a beaked mask stuffed full of flowers and herbs and a long overcoat. With him was a watchman with a cloth soaked in vinegar round the lower half of his face, carrying a stick. They headed down the cobblestoned alleyway towards George and his hand dropped from the latch, his heart beating very fast.
Cases of the plague were far less frequent now but people were still dying from it.
Woofer looked up at him and then back at the door.
George shook his head. He wanted to go inside but they couldn’t. If Gran did have the plague then they might end up quarantined and not be let out again.
Woofer gave a whine. He could smell the delicious aroma of pottage gently stewing on the fire coming from inside the house.
‘No, Woofer.’
George knocked on the door. ‘Gran?’ he called out. ‘Gran, are you OK? Gran!’
But there was no reply.
‘Plague?’ the doctor asked George.
‘I don’t know, sir, I haven’t been inside,’ George told him.
The doctor lifted the latch and went in with the watchman while George and Woofer waited outside.
A few minutes later, the watchman came to the door and shook his head. ‘You can see her if you want.’
Woofer raced past George as they went inside.
‘Not the plague,’ said the beak-masked doctor, squeezing George’s shoulder. He pulled the mask that smelt of lavender, rosemary and garlic off his face. ‘Just old age.’
Tears streamed down George’s face as he looked at the pottage gently cooking over the fire. He had arrived just a bit too late. He forced himself to look at Gran’s body. She looked very peaceful but George couldn’t believe he’d never see her alive again. Woofer gazed up at him and whined. When George didn’t react, the dog pushed his head under the boy’s hand for a stroke and then rested his chin on George’s leg, sharing his sadness.
There were arrangements to be made and Gran’s things to be sorted out. George and Woofer spent the rest of that day and night at Black Raven Alley but they had to return to the palace the next morning.
The last thing George did before they left Gran’s house was lift the iron pot of soup from its hook over the fire with a thick cloth. He couldn’t bear to leave it behind and carried it through the streets as they walked back to the palace.
There’d been no rain for months and months and it was another hot day. People were heading out to Smithfield for the second week of Old Bartlemy’s Fair.
Around him people laughed and joked and talked in the streets. George felt numb. He wanted to shake the passers-by and shout at them. Didn’t they know what had happened? Didn’t they understand his gran had just died and that nothing would ever be the same again?
Woofer whimpered.
When they arrived back at the palace kitchen an hour later Humphrey wasn’t there and Master Vogel was now in charge of George’s kitchen.
‘Where’ve you been?’ Master Vogel demanded to know.
George didn’t reply, which made Master Vogel even angrier.
Old Peg wasn’t in her usual spot but over by the door in a draught. George gave her some of Gran’s soup and she slurped it noisily.
Woofer sat down and put his paw out and George poured him a bowl too.
‘I asked where you’ve been!’ Master Vogel shouted, so loudly that for a moment Woofer stopped lapping up his soup in surprise.
Everyone looked round at George and his face flushed hot. ‘At my gran’s,’ he muttered.
But Master Vogel wasn’t listening.
‘There’s no time for such laziness in my kitchen!’ he yelled.
‘Where’s Humphrey?’ George asked. Why was Master Vogel now in charge of the kitchen?
‘If you’d been at work yesterday, as you should have been, you’d know,’ Master Vogel said.
George tried to find out what had happened to Humphrey from one of the other kitchen staff but the boy he asked glanced over at Master Vogel’s furious face and wouldn’t say anything.
Woofer looked up at the sound of soft paw pads on the stone floor, so quiet that only a dog could hear.
Tiger Lily wagged her tail at the kitchen door and Woofer tilted his head as he looked over at George and then back at his friend. George wasn’t paying him any attention, so he decided to join Tiger Lily as she trotted off to the Privy Garden. A butterfly flew in front of them and the two dogs gave chase as it danced among the flowers.
Inside the kitchen George heard a whine and when he looked over he saw that Scraps was in the turnspit wheel.
‘What’s she doing in there?’ he cried.
Everyone in the kitchen knew that Scraps was too old to do much work any more.
‘She’s earning her keep,’ Master Vogel told him. ‘Unlike you, young man. Although she needed a hot coal or two thrown in with her every now and again to keep her moving. Nothing like a piece of hot coal in the wheel to keep a turnspit dog motivated.’
George felt sick as he ran over to the wheel and lifted Scraps out.
Master Vogel became even angrier when he saw what George was doing. ‘I didn’t say the wheeler could come out yet!’
‘I’m so sorry,’ George whispered into Scraps’ fur. The dog was breathing heavily, a raspy, rattly breathing that George hadn’t heard before. She didn’t try to stand up but lay limp in his arms.
‘Put her back in this instant!’ Master Vogel shouted.
‘Can’t you see? She can’t do any more,’ George told him as a tear slipped down his face.
‘Yes, she can!’ Master Vogel bellowed. He was almost exploding with rage now because all the staff were looking at him. ‘The wheeler’s just being lazy – like most animals and people!’
George shook his head as he looked at Scraps’ burnt paws. She’d had no chance of escaping the hot coals that Master Vogel had thrown in with her.
‘Put her back in t
he wheel right now or you’re fired!’ Master Vogel roared so loudly George thought the whole palace could have heard him.
Scraps closed her eyes and after a big sigh she stopped breathing. She was gone.
Another tear slipped down George’s face and he dashed it away.
‘Get out!’ Master Vogel yelled at George. ‘Get out and don’t come back!’
George stroked Scraps. He didn’t want to leave her, even though she was no longer alive.
Master Vogel grabbed hold of George and shoved him out of the door. ‘You’re fired!’
CHAPTER 8
When Woofer and Tiger Lily grew tired of chasing butterflies they headed back to the king’s apartment and helped themselves to the tasty treats that were always set out for the royal dogs on silver platters, as well as a long cool drink from the fresh water in the silver bowl.
The scent of mouse beneath the king’s bed was too much for any dog to resist and certainly too much for Woofer. He dived under the heavy maroon velvet cover, embroidered with gold, that had fallen on the floor and disappeared while Tiger Lily watched from the top of the bed. She’d tried to catch the mouse under the mattress many times before, as had the rest of the king’s dogs, but this creature had always managed to evade them.
Woofer was determined to succeed. He had the mouse cornered, only to miss it by a whisker as it escaped into a hole. As it did so he gave a whine of frustration but then froze as the king’s bedroom door slammed shut. When he poked his head out from under the heavy bedcover on the floor, he found that Tiger Lily had been shut in too. Tiger Lily ran to the door and gave her high bark but it didn’t open. Woofer tried barking his deeper, louder bark but that didn’t work either. Tiger Lily stood on her back legs and scratched at the door but still no one came – not even when they both scratched and barked and barked. Finally they lay down by the door, rested their heads on their paws and waited for someone to let them out.
Eventually, the door was opened by the woman who came to empty the chamber pots, and Tiger Lily and Woofer raced out of the room and down the stairs to the kitchen.