by Diane Rios
There was nowhere to go just yet. Brisco explained the plan to the crows, who conveyed it to the other animals. The time to attack would come at the end of the dinner. That was when the pies would be served. They had to wait for the signal. And they were all waiting for Silas the Stargazer, but no one knew when, or if he would come. The clearing and the forest surrounding it was filled with tension as the animals continued to wait, their nerves stretching to the breaking point.
As afternoon deepened into dusk and the light began to fade, the rustlings and murmurings increased. A feeling of fear began to flow through the meadow as the animals worried the word would never come.
BRISCO AND THE ARTIST HAD LONG SINCE FINISHED their checker game, and they stood together, watching the sky, waiting along with the rest, for the signal.
Suddenly Brisco shouted. “There!”
A crow was coming. It was King Cornix, who landed on a tree and cawed down to them urgently.
Brisco listened intently, then turned to the crowd in the meadow and called out, “My friends, we have just heard from King Cornix himself—Silas is on his way!”
A great cheer came up from the meadow. Silas was on his way! Silas was coming! Soon now, it would all begin. How long would it take him to get there? Would they wait for him before going down? The chatter in the meadow grew, but no one had the answers. They looked to Brisco, who conferred with King Cornix.
Brisco waited a moment for the noise to subside and called out, “If the call comes before Silas gets here, we must be ready to move without him!”
An uneasy rumble broke out from the crowd. What did the man say? Not wait for Silas? But they needed him, didn’t they? He was bringing help. Without Silas, were there enough of them to do the job? Confusion broke out in the clearing, which threatened to turn into a nervous panic, as the animals growled and barked and roared at each other. If the call came, they did not want to wait. Why should they? Why should they listen to this man, at all?
Brisco hurried on, raising his hands to calm the crowd. “We might fail without Silas, it’s true! But we will surely fail if we miss the signal, so we must be ready to move, with or without the Stargazer!” he called out urgently. “We’ve come this far, we have to follow through! We can’t wait—it is up to us, my friends. Silas will come, help will arrive to fortify us—but we may need to move out before they get here, that is all.”
The animals stopped grumbling; there was sense in what he said.
“Now, tell me,” said Brisco, knowing they needed unity in this important moment. “Are you with me?” He spread his arms wide. “Are you ready to do what you have to do to protect your lands? Your families? Are you ready to fight?”
The assembly of animals responded with an overwhelming explosion of noise.
They could understand this. They did not want to wait. They were ready—it was why they had come! The rabbits shrieked, and stamped their back feet on the ground, the foxes barked, the mountain lions roared, the crows squawked, the jays screeched, and all two dozen hummingbirds rose high in the air, buzzing in circles, delirious with excitement.
King Auberon drowned them all out with his roar, rising to his full height, his shaggy fur dropping pieces of pine, ferns, moss, and more dead bees as he swatted the air with his huge front paws. The other bears joined him, and they made a truly fearsome sight. As they stood on their hind legs and moved from side to side, a throbbing hum seemed to rise from the bears as they started to growl deep in their chests. Then, growling, swaying, and beating a rhythm on the earth with their huge feet, the bears began to dance. They formed a circle and touched front paws, moving from side to side. Eerily, the huge bears danced together, gracefully, growling their deep, wild song.
The other animals were transfixed by the bear’s dance. It was a war dance, and it spoke about the ancient things—birth, death, the earth, the rain, and the sun. The bears’ dance shook the ground as the bears’ feet pounded it, but it made the animals’ hearts light. After a few minutes of this, the bears dropped again to all fours, and the meeting was adjourned.
Everyone felt a renewed sense of optimism and excitement. They would go when the crow came. Now that they knew Silas the Stargazer was on his way, each animal felt a surge of new hope. Big or small, bear or mouse, mountain lion or hummingbird, each creature felt the strength and alliance of the others, and the importance of what they were about to do. It was a question of life or death, there was no doubt about it. And they wouldn’t give up without a fight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHLOE FOLLOWED MRS. GOODWEATHER DOWN the tree house stairs. They had waited so long for this moment, and it was finally here. She had expected to feel terrified, but as soon as her feet touched the ground, the girl felt a strange sense of calm. She followed Mrs. Goodweather down the little path toward the hospital, with Shakespeare safely hidden in her pocket.
Lord Winchfillin watched them go from the tree house porch. Chloe looked back at him once, and he lifted his hand in a small wave. She waved back, and then turned to hurry down the path behind Mrs. Goodweather.
Pausing at the edge of the trees, Mrs. Goodweather adjusted Chloe’s collar, and straightened the towel on the basket, and they both took a deep breath before stepping out into the road. Walking briskly to the back steps of the hospital, they mustered as much professional poise as they possibly could, trying to look as though it were perfectly natural to be walking out of the trees holding a basket covered with a tea towel. No one took any notice of them.
Several wagons were pulled up near the doors, parked along the back of the building, and at least a dozen people were helping unload them and take the goods inside. Chloe and Mrs. Goodweather had no trouble joining the group and made their way quickly up the back steps. As they stepped through the doors, a sharp voice caught them.
“You!”
Chloe and Mrs. Goodweather froze.
A tall, thin man stood behind them. He held a clipboard and a pen. “Are you from Belhorn, Buddly, and Batts?” he demanded, peering at the clipboard, and then at them.
Chloe gulped. Mrs. Goodweather answered for them both. “Yes sir, that’s right,” she said. “We’re here for the gala.”
The man ordered, “Well, take that basket into the kitchen and report at once to Mrs. Harold, the cook. Hurry up, you’re late, the dinner is about to begin!”
Chloe, who had been certain they had been discovered before they could even get inside, could not believe her ears. He believed them! In her relief she barely remembered to nod politely at the man, but Mrs. Goodweather steered her firmly to the left, following another worker carrying a bundle of bread loaves, toward the kitchen. Weak with relief at passing this first test, Chloe hoped fervently that the cook wouldn’t ask too many questions. Suddenly it seemed the plan was more complicated than she had anticipated, and the goal—the dining room—was still very far away.
Happily, Mrs. Harold was so busy and overwhelmed in the kitchen that she asked no questions at all, and merely set the two to work chopping vegetables. And they worked hard. For the next half an hour, Chloe and Mrs. Goodweather did whatever they were told. They carried food, crates of wine, set out dishes, and polished silverware. After that Mrs. Harold ordered them to chop up a pile of apples. Mrs. Goodweather winked at Chloe as she picked up one of the long silver knives and began to chop so expertly the cook stopped by to praise her work. Chloe giggled. If only Mrs. Harold knew who she was praising!
The pies were safely hidden in their basket, stowed in a corner, under a table. Mrs. Goodweather kept a lookout for a spare silver tray on which to serve the pies. All of the food being served came out on the same silver dishes, and they would have to have one for the pies. The trouble was, there were none. All the silver was kept in a locked room, opened now for the dinner, but guarded closely. Each piece was counted as it was used, and there were no spare trays lying around. Mrs. Harold had told the footman exactly how many dishes were needed, and he would have to request her permission to hand o
ut any more.
Mrs. Goodweather finished each task the cook set for her in record time, but Chloe could tell that she was becoming distracted by the problem of the silver tray. While thinking over the matter, Mrs. Goodweather forgot herself momentarily, and absentmindedly carved an apple she was chopping into an exquisite rose. Chloe cleared her throat warningly as Mrs. Harold approached, and Mrs. Goodweather, realizing her mistake, quickly chopped the rose up into small pieces. It would not do to attract unwanted questions or attention—it could derail their entire plan.
Inside the dining room the dinner was beginning. The first courses were being carried out, but Chloe and Mrs. Goodweather worked on in the kitchen for Mrs. Harold. Finished with chopping, she gave them the task of setting the servants’ table, where after the party ended the workers would gather to eat leftovers from the feast, a rare treat.
As Chloe and Mrs. Goodweather laid the long wooden table with dishes and cutlery, they had to pass the pantry where the silver was kept. A sharp-eyed footman guarded the door. Mrs. Goodweather suddenly had an idea.
She said to Chloe under her breath as they carried glasses to the table, “The next time we come in here, drop something. Break it.”
“What?” asked Chloe, startled. “Why?”
“You’re creating a distraction, child. Make sure it breaks.”
“But—” Chloe started to protest.
“Don’t worry dear, I’ll do the rest,” Mrs. Goodweather assured her.
They went back to the kitchen for the rest of the dishes, and when they passed by the silver pantry, Chloe did as Mrs. Goodweather said and dropped one of the china cups she was holding. It shattered, sending shards of glass all over the corridor and causing the footman to cry out in dismay.
“Idiot girl!” he barked at her, coming forward and seizing her arm. “What’s wrong with you? That will come out of your pay! Clean this up immediately!”
Chloe sank to the ground and meekly began picking up the pieces of glass. Mrs. Goodweather joined her, apologizing as she did. “Sorry sir, she’s new, sir. I’ll help.”
The footman angrily kicked glass out of his way, and told them to hurry up, they would create an obstruction in the corridor. Already other servants were hurrying past them, crunching over the broken glass.
Mrs. Goodweather kept sweeping the floor, all the while inching closer to a stack of trays she spied just inside the silver cupboard door. When the footman bent to sign a bill brought by an errand boy, his attention was momentarily distracted and quick as a wink Mrs. Goodweather snatched a tray off the pile and hid it under her apron, returning to her sweeping just as the footman turned around and glared at her.
“Aren’t you finished yet?” he barked.
“Pardon, sir!” said Mrs. Goodweather humbly, bowing her head. “I was just cleaning up the glass, sir, so you wouldn’t cut yourself, sir.”
“Well get out and get back to your duties!” barked the footman, turning away.
Mrs. Goodweather and Chloe returned to the kitchen, chuckling triumphantly. It wasn’t much, but they finally had their tray on which to serve the pies. Now they just had to wait until the dessert course, and then find a way to slip into the dining room. The hardest part was still ahead of them, but getting the tray had been critical, and they both felt greatly encouraged. Now if they could only get the tray of pies to the right place, at the right time!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THE DINNER WENT ON AND ON. CHLOE and Mrs. Goodweather were set to washing dishes the minute the first course was over, and they were kept busy. As quick as they were filled and carried up the stairs, empty dishes began to come back to the kitchen, and the piles grew higher and higher. The two scrubbed as fast as they could, but after the fifth course they began to despair that they would ever have the opportunity to slip out of the kitchen, and into the dining room.
After the eighth course was served, Mrs. Goodweather looked at Chloe and said with a steely determination, “We must find a way in.”
“My feet are killing me!” A harsh voice made them both jump. A maid was sitting nearby on a bag of potatoes, her face red and perspiring. She had pulled off her shoe and sock and was examining angry blisters on her toes. “I don’t know how I’m going to go in there again, carrying those heavy trays!”
This was her chance and Chloe leapt upon it. Wiping her hands quickly on her apron, she turned to the maid and said brightly, “You sit here. I would be happy to serve for you!”
The maid looked at Chloe in surprise for what seemed like a long time, and the girl grew afraid. Did the maid just notice that I’m only a child? Have I just made a fatal mistake?
Chloe’s heart started beating again when the maid answered gratefully, “That would be wonderful, thanks!”
Before she knew it, Chloe was being handed a fresh white apron and given a silver tray covered with iced biscuits to take up to the dining room. She and Mrs. Goodweather looked at each other with wide eyes, unable to say all the words they wanted to. Mrs. Goodweather could only whisper to Chloe as she joined the others, “Look for the main table, so we’ll know where to put the pies!”
There was no more time to speak as Chloe joined the line of servers moving up and down the stairs leading to the dining room. Coming out of a swinging door behind a line of other serving girls, she suddenly found herself thrust into a world of light, color, smell, and sound.
All around her the great room was sparkling, alive with music and full of the delicious, savory smells of the magnificent dinner which had finally been eaten. Chloe hesitated, looking around her in wonder. She stumbled a bit on the edge of the thick carpet, and the girl behind her hissed angrily, “Watch it! Hurry up!”
She moved forward, holding her tray as steadily as she could. It would not do to spill the biscuits and get sent downstairs again. She might never find a way to come back up. Chloe carefully put one foot in front of the other and at the same time tried to see which table her target with the pies would be.
It wasn’t hard to spot. At the far end of the room was a long table set up on a dais. Sparkling gold candlesticks and enormous urns of fruit marked it as the most sumptuous table in the room, and obviously set for the most important people at the gala, and the people sitting around it announced their supreme importance with their expensive clothing and flashing jewels.
Surely that is the one! thought Chloe.
By this time of the evening, everyone was full of rich food and drink and were feeling quite expansive. The men lit up cigars and leaned back in their chairs to give their bellies more room; the ladies drank sherry, fanning themselves to deflect some of the cigar smoke.
The level of noise in the hall rose as the diners finished their dinners and pushed back their chairs in anticipation of dessert. Chloe placed her tray of iced biscuits down on a sideboard where the other girls put theirs and where huge silver urns holding hot coffee stood waiting to be served. The room was hot with so many people and foods, and the air had a blue haze from the cigar smoke.
The orchestra played on, and the music swelled along with the laughter of the guests who were drinking large goblets of sweet port wine. Candles sparkled everywhere, burnt halfway down, melting wax onto the white tablecloths that bloomed with baskets of fruit and flowers. The walls were hung with garlands of pine that added their aroma to the air. Chloe felt light-headed from all the sensations around her. Horrified, she felt a wave of nausea rise as she breathed in cigar smoke and the sweet smell of flowers. She shook her head, trying to clear it. She had to get the tray of pies from the kitchen, now!
Chloe jumped when the head footman ordered her to go back downstairs and get another tray of food. She hurried to the door of the hall and descended the stairs to the kitchen, looking wildly about for Mrs. Goodweather.
“Ahhh!” Chloe stifled a scream when someone grabbed her by the shoulder, and pulled her out of the busy corridor.
“Shhhh! It’s only me!” Mrs. Goodweather was beaming at her, and holding the silver tr
ay with the pies arranged neatly.
“Quick! Now is our chance!” She handed it to Chloe. “Do you know who to serve them to?” she asked anxiously.
“I think so,” whispered Chloe, her teeth suddenly chattering. Her nerves were beginning to fray, and she struggled to get control of herself. She bit down on her tongue to stop her teeth from chattering and forced herself to focus. There was no room for error. She had to get this right!
“Good girl,” said Mrs. Goodweather, pushing her gently toward the dining room door. “Now go get ’em. OH!” Mrs. Goodweather broke off as a man stepped in front of them.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” demanded the man angrily. “You’re blocking the passage”—he glared at Chloe —“and I don’t think you’re supposed to be here at all!” This was directed to Mrs. Goodweather, whose apron was still dripping wet from the sink.
“No sir!” said Mrs. Goodweather, bobbing her head and retreating. She gave one meaningful look back at Chloe as she hurried back toward the kitchen.
“Get going, girl, into the dining room with those.”
Under the footman’s outraged glare and finger pointing the way, Chloe walked through the dining room doors, and moved steadily toward the table at the end of the hall. It was now or never.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ALL AROUND HER THE WORLD THROBBED with sound and light. Chloe could barely hear it through the pounding of her own ears.
Amidst the wild revelry, Chloe walked with measured steps toward her goal. The room echoed with talking, pierced occasionally by the laughter of those already deep in their cups of wine, but to Chloe it was as if all sound had been muted. She heard nothing, knew nothing of what was being spoken, as she gripped her tray and made her way to the table on the dais.
And then she was there. She halted, her heart pounding, next to the chair of a large, red-faced man in a black tuxedo who was waving a huge cigar in the air and telling a story. Chloe felt as though she were in a dream as she forced herself to bend forward and carefully place the tray upon the table.