‘Megan – who has been Kate’s best friend since nursery school – tells me that this is their special place. They creep down here at break time to be by themselves and to get out of the wind. Yesterday Megan was missing Kate so much she came here for a while to think about her friend – which is lucky for us because that is when she noticed this. Look. Come closer.’
They all crouched down around Dr Dyer who took out a torch from his coat pocket and directed the beam close to an emerald green fern which had taken root in the wall. The mellow red bricks were covered in a tracery of carved names and initials. At the centre of the beam of light was an ancient-looking piece of graffiti – still perfectly legible because it had been so deeply etched into the soft brick:
Kate Dyer wants to come home!
July 21st 1763
Underneath was a circle with four smaller circles grouped above it. ‘It’s Kate’s trademark signature – Molly’s paw print,’ explained Dr Dyer. ‘My clever Kate has left us a message. I don’t think I need any more proof that your hunch, Dr Pirretti, about the link between time and gravity, was justified.’
There was a very long pause while the scientists took in the earth-shattering significance of Kate’s simple message.
‘Whoah!’ breathed Dr Jacob. ‘This is kind of … momentous. I never thought to witness this in my lifetime.’
Tim Williamson stared, unblinking, at Kate’s message. ‘She’s gone back in time!’ he exclaimed. ‘Somehow I’ve managed to make the first time machine! This dawn meeting at Bakewell will go down in history. People will write about this moment …’
‘Only if anyone gets to hear about it …’ said Dr Pirretti under her breath.
Suddenly, as Tim realised that he had played a part in without a doubt the most important scientific discovery of this century – no, of this new millennium – he started dancing on the spot and punching his fists in the air. Dr Pirretti, on the other hand, looked grim. She opened her mouth to say something but then pursed her lips together.
‘Believe me, Andrew,’ Tim Williamson said to Dr Dyer, ‘I’ll work night and day to rebuild the anti-gravity machine to the nth specification. We’ll reproduce the precise conditions. If we can do it once we can do it twice – we’ll get the children back.’
Dr Dyer had tears in his eyes. ‘We’re going to bring them home!’
Dr Pirretti could clearly contain herself no longer. ‘Get real, Tim! You didn’t “do it once”. It was a freak accident. We have no way of knowing for sure how to reproduce the same conditions. Meanwhile we have two defenceless children stranded in the eighteenth century.’
‘Don’t underestimate Kate,’ replied her father. ‘She’s intelligent and resourceful …’
‘You know,’ interrupted Dr Jacob who had been so deep in thought he had not been following his colleagues’ conversation, ‘after concentrating so much of our efforts on the relationship between gravity and dark matter, it really does throw up the question: is there a link between dark energy and time? It’s going to be so fascinating working on this …’
‘Listen to yourselves!’ Dr Pirretti cried. ‘You’re already seeing your names in the history books, congratulating yourself on being part of this astounding new scientific development! Can’t you see what this really means? This is a disaster! This is a tragedy for mankind! This is a million times worse even than the invention of the atom bomb! Don’t you understand that we are playing the part of Pandora opening her box and releasing undreamed of horrors into our universe. Look what terrible things we do to each other every second of every day all over the world. Before today the one thing that was totally safe was the past. Do you want to live in a world where the past will always be open to infinite future interference? If we don’t do the right thing now most of humanity, quite rightly, will curse us for ever!’
‘What are you saying?’ asked Dr Dyer, his fists clenched. ‘Do you mean that we should not try to go back and get them?’
Dr Pirretti’s eyes met those of Kate’s father and softened. ‘No, Andrew. I don’t – necessarily – mean that. We have a duty to Kate and Peter. I’m sorry to be brutal – I have a daughter, too – but ask yourself this question: would you put the safety of your children above the right of each and every individual on this planet to a secure history? What I mean is, somehow we have got to find a way to undo what has happened and leave history none the wiser.’
Dr Dyer covered his face with his hands. ‘Oh God! Why did this have to happen to Kate?’ The other two men looked stunned at the ferocity of Dr Pirretti’s outburst. Dr Williamson shuffled from one foot to the other uncomfortably. Dr Jacob cleared his throat and said: ‘I had not realised how strongly you felt about this, Anita.’
‘Well, you do now. Until we’ve all thought this through and the consequences of going public, no one must find out about what we have seen today. No one. Not the police, not NASA, not even Peter Schock’s parents. Is that agreed, gentlemen?’
They all nodded although there was some hesitation on Dr Jacob’s part. Then Dr Dyer said: ‘But, of course, Megan knows. And my wife – I couldn’t not tell her mother …’
‘No.’ Dr Pirretti sighed deeply and took out a penknife from her handbag and began scraping away at Kate’s message until it was a pile of reddish dust at the foot of the sooty wall.
They rode bareback. Peter instinctively adjusted his position with every change in Midnight’s speed or direction. At first he had found himself clinging rigidly to Gideon’s back; now, after only a little tuition, he sat upright and easy, only grabbing hold of Gideon in case of real need. He watched the parched, sandy fields fleeing before them and felt the impact of Midnight’s hooves as they pounded the earth. Peter had never before experienced such freedom. He’d seen a picture of his father on horseback in his grandparents’ photo album. If it had been okay for his dad to do it, why did he always say that he might end up breaking his neck if he tried to ride? He wished his mum and dad could see him now.
‘You’ve lost your fear, Master Peter,’ commented Gideon. ‘I fancy you might make a horseman yet. Hold on to me. Let us see if Midnight is as strong as I think he is!’
Gideon dug his heels into Midnight’s sides and the stallion erupted into a high-speed gallop despite his double load. The sudden acceleration took Peter’s breath away. He held on tight to Gideon but then whooped with the thrill of it.
‘So there is something that pleases you about my time,’ shouted Gideon over his shoulder. And it was true, thought Peter. A few hours earlier he would have given anything to be back in suburban London, now, suddenly, he was not so sure.
After a couple of miles they spotted a boy balanced precariously on the back of a black and white carthorse. He was reaching up into the branches of a spreading cherry tree picking off the last of the overripe black fruit that had been spared by the birds. The horse flicked its mud-spattered tail at some wasps that hovered drunk-enly over rotting cherries at the foot of the tree.
‘I don’t think we need announce ourselves,’ said Gideon with a mischievous look in his blue eyes. He slipped off Midnight and glided noiselessly towards the boy almost as if in slow motion. The horse noticed him but, unconcerned, continued to tear up the sweet, yellowing grass. Peter watched in awe and could not help thinking about Gideon’s previous profession. I can see why he made such a good cutpurse, he said to himself. No wonder he never got caught – he moves like a cat.
The boy was straining to get to a couple of luscious black cherries which were just out of arm’s reach.
‘Good evening, young master,’ said Gideon very loudly. ‘’Tis true that forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest.’
The boy nearly shot out of his skin, and lost his footing. Gideon caught him in mid-air and, laughing, set him down gently on the grass.
The boy was perhaps seven or eight and his grubby face was stained with cherry juice. He attempted to run away but Gideon reached out and caught hold of his shirt. The boy was none too pleased with Gideo
n and he kicked him angrily about the shins.
‘Are all the lads hereabouts made of such stout stuff?’ asked Gideon half-amused, half-wincing as he held him at arm’s length. The boy kicked him again.
‘That’s enough, lad! I am flesh and blood! How would you like to earn yourself a shilling?’
The boy stopped kicking him and eyed Gideon suspiciously. ‘What must I do for it, sir?’
‘We are in urgent need of a likely lad such as yourself to fetch help. Our carriage is broken, the axle snapped clean through.’
Gideon described the giant oak and asked if the boy knew it, which he did, saying that it was a landmark thereabouts. Gideon reached deep into his jacket pocket and gave him a sixpence. The boy set off at once on his lumbering carthorse in the direction of Aldridge, fingering his treasure as he went.
‘Don’t dally, lad,’ Gideon called after him. ‘There’s another sixpence waiting for you.’
They watched the boy disappear out of sight. The sky was already growing pink and the sun sinking low on the horizon. Swallows called to each other, so high in the sky that they were barely visible as they swooped and soared through the clear, dry air in search of midges. Gideon squinted up at them, his arm shading his eyes.
‘We need not fear rain tonight at least,’ commented Gideon.
‘How many sixpences are there in a pound?’ asked Peter who was wondering how much the boy could buy with his earnings.
‘Forty. Twelve pennies in a shilling, twenty shillings to the pound.’
‘Money’s a lot easier to work out in my time. What can you buy for a sixpence, then?’
Gideon thought about it for a moment. ‘Well, you can dine handsomely for sixpence. Or have the barber cut your hair. And sixpence will buy a quantity of wine sufficient to put even Parson Ledbury under the table.’
They remounted Midnight and began the journey back. Before long the great oak tree came into view in the distance. Above it hovered a curious black cloud which was moving swiftly in their direction. It was the rooks. Soon all they could hear was their raucous cries. Caw! Caw! Caw! The great black birds passed right over their heads in a dense flock and a feeling close to dismay came over Peter. What were they flying away from? Gideon pulled sharply on the reins and dismounted. Peter followed suit. The giant oak tree and the broken carriage beneath, silhouetted against the empty fields, were scarcely visible. Gideon reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small, brass spyglass which he put to his eye. He screwed up his face in an attempt to focus on the broken carriage.
‘I cannot tell for certain what I see,’ exclaimed Gideon, heaving an exasperated sigh.
‘Can I have a look?’ asked Peter. Gideon handed over the spyglass to Peter who strained to keep his hand steady, supporting it with his other arm.
‘My hand keeps wobbling, I keep missing the cart.’
Peter trained his gaze towards the oak tree until something caught his eye. Then he let out a gasp.
‘What is it that you see?’ Gideon shouted, seizing hold of the spyglass again and directing it towards their companions.
‘How many of them are there?’ asked Peter after a moment.
Gideon’s lips moved as he counted silently. ‘Five. And a boy,’ said Gideon. ‘I believe they are tying the Parson to the tree but I cannot be certain from this distance. I can’t see the others.’
‘You don’t think they’ll hurt them? I mean, they wouldn’t touch Kate and Hannah and Jack, would they? They’ll just take the diamond necklace and the Parson’s gold and go, right? It’s only money that they’re after?’
Gideon would not answer but stood staring at the distant oak tree. A wisp of woodsmoke curled up from behind the carriage. Then he took hold of Midnight’s reins and, patting him on the neck, led him quietly to a thicket of young birches. Between the thicket and the broken carriage was open land without a scrap of shelter. Peter’s mouth became dry with fear.
Gideon reappeared next to Peter. ‘They are armed and we are not,’ he said. ‘Save for my knife. But there are too many of them to risk an attack. I do not doubt that the Tar Man or Ned Porter – or both – pushed these footpads to strike here and now, a good league from the nearest aid. When they find that we are missing they will surely question my whereabouts and yours … I pray with all my heart that our companions have had the good sense to tell them we have ridden on ahead, for at least then we might have the advantage of surprise.’
Gideon suddenly picked up a large rock and flung it with all his force into the bushes behind him. ‘Have I learned nothing these past five years! I knew he would send them! I knew it! He is like a cat before the kill: he cannot deny himself the pleasure of toying with his victims. He is not content to hunt me down, he must attack and rob those who help me! Did I ever have a more foolish and reckless notion? To leave the party thus exposed, for all the world to see … like lambs to the slaughter! The Tar Man will allow the footpads to keep their loot for I am the prize his master bids him seek. I promised to help you and Mistress Kate but I have done naught but drag you further into danger!’
Gideon picked up another stone and smashed it so hard into the trunk of a tree that it cut deep into its bark. ‘Damn his eyes!’ he shouted and strode away, unable to contain his rage and frustration.
Peter sank to the ground and put his forehead on his knees. He was rattled by Gideon’s outburst; his face was pale and his hands clammy. If Gideon did not know what to do, then he certainly did not. He closed his eyes. After a quarter of an hour he heard Gideon’s footsteps and felt a hand on his shoulder.
‘Do not be afraid – it is what they count on. All is far from lost. The footpads have made a fire – I’ll warrant they are making camp for the night. We shall wait for cover of darkness and then we shall see what we can do.’
Peter took the spyglass and peered at the distant oak tree. The carriage hid the footpads from view and apart from the occasional flicker of movement there was no indication of what was happening to their friends – so close and yet so out of reach – on the other side of this vast, empty field. Gideon tethered Midnight to the trunk of a tree, and then tried to persuade Peter to sit and rest while he had the chance, for they would soon need to have all their wits about them. So, for a while, they sat side by side under the shelter of the whispering birches, Gideon chewing on a piece of long grass and Peter obsessively looking through the spyglass at the plume of white smoke that rose up into the sky from behind the carriage. They did not speak as they watched the darkness slowly dissolve the ribbons of scarlet and gold that stretched across the horizon.
‘Come,’ said Gideon, breaking the silence at last. ‘We passed some reeds a way back. There must be a spring nearby. Let us find Midnight some water.’
Gideon untied the horse and they walked, retracing their steps to the reed bed. It was becoming cooler now. Peter rested his hand on Midnight’s neck; occasionally he stooped down to pick him handfuls of dandelions and choice, green grass and as the horse chewed his offerings Peter could feel his hot, noisy breath on his outstretched palm. There was something about the presence of the animal – his warmth, perhaps, and the familiar smell of horse flesh – that made Peter feel a little less afraid.
The ground grew marshy as they approached the reeds and they soon found a small bubbling spring that fed into a pond. They watched Midnight drink eagerly, standing knee high in the muddy water. The light was fading fast but Gideon took care to scan the landscape through his spyglass in case they had been spotted by unseen eyes. ‘It belonged to my father,’ said Gideon, indicating the spyglass. ‘He gave it to my eldest brother and when he died it came to me.’
‘Was that when most of your family caught the scarlet fever?’
‘No, not then. I have no recollection of my eldest brother. He died some years before we moved to Abinger. My mother never liked to talk of it. I believe it was some kind of accident but I do know that my mother never recovered from the shock of it. He was her first-born – it
must have been a grievous loss to bear.’
Gideon pulled out an object a little larger than the size of his hand from his jacket. Its polished surface gleamed.
‘What is it?’ Peter asked.
‘Can you not guess? It was carved by my father’s own hands from the horn of a ram when I was but an infant. It was on account of my namesake. Listen.’
Gideon put the object to his lips and blew very gently – a series of clear, soft notes came from the horn.
‘Who is your namesake?’ asked Peter.
‘Do you not know your Bible? Have you not heard of Gideon and the Midianites?’
Peter admitted that he had not.
‘It was Gideon who led the Israelites against the Midianites—Gideon came to a halt abruptly in mid-sentence. ‘I believe my father’s horn has provided us with a solution to our dilemma! Yes, by heaven! Now I see what we must do!’
He smiled triumphantly at Peter who was puzzled but glad that Gideon seemed to have a plan of some kind.
‘If I tell you the story of Gideon you will understand,’ Gideon said. ‘The Israelites were far outnumbered by the Midianites who were defending their camp with a large army. The camp was heavily defended. Yet God spoke to Gideon and told him to pick only a small number of his best fighters for the attack. Do you know how God told him to make his choice?’
Peter shook his head.
‘Drink some water, Master Peter.’
‘What, now?’
‘Yes.’
‘All right …’ Peter lay on his stomach at the side of the pond and hoped the murky water was safe to drink. He plunged his head into the water.
‘No!’ exclaimed Gideon. ‘My namesake would not have chosen you. This is how a soldier drinks …’
He bent his knees and, keeping his back straight, lowered himself to the ground while he cupped his right hand which he carefully dipped into the water. Then he stood up and lapped up the water from his hand, looking around him all the time for any signs of danger.
Gideon the Cutpurse Page 17