Widdershins

by Alexander, Alex

  ‘Very well trained this cat of yours. Isn’t it?’

  ‘I guess so, sir.’

  ‘Belongs to your master, I suppose?’

  ‘Wot? Uhh… nah… just a street cat ain’t it.’

  ‘Not sent here to keep eye on you?’

  ‘Nah, sir, just a stray like I said,’ Niclas was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. He certainly looked very uncomfortable.

  ‘So! A local then?’

  ‘Wot?’

  ‘Your master, a local you say. Very strange for Varcian to take interest in this medicine. I thought you were all as close-minded as your Academy. Meh! Each to their own I guess.’

  ‘I guess… How much do I owes you, gov?’

  ‘Let’s think. Not much, not much… A sixpence for the stone. A threepence for the Danga Root. And call it a farthing for the egg.’

  Niclas pulled out a handful of coins, stared at them nervously for a long time and then handed over a whole shilling.

  The shopkeeper looked at the coin, knitted his brow and took it.

  ‘A tip eh?’ He smiled.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You said a tip, sir?’

  ‘Yes, a tip.’

  ‘Well… Wot’s the tip?’

  ‘Well… it’s…’ The shopkeeper noticed it then, staring into Niclas’ eyes, the thing Balthazar had come to learn already: that all the lights were on, but no one was at home.

  The boy and the cat crossed through the top of Carrot Market on their way back to the Queen’s Garter.

  It was busy as usual with traders selling their wares and customers haggling down prices.

  It was the first time Niclas had been amongst the market stalls since he’d been pinched for filching. It was also the first time he’d browsed them with money in a purse. It was a feeling he wasn’t used to. Anything he wanted he could buy. A shabby, second hand top hat was a mere transaction away. But why settle for second hand, there were hats there from the haberdashery near Lords’ Row and they were made of fine felt, some were even lined with silk.

  There were all sorts of shinies too. Glimmering watches, twinkling rings, enough to make a magpie’s head spin. For Niclas, the old slum boy urge to pocket things when no one was looking itched in the palm of his hands. But there was no need to steal when you had a purse as big as his.

  Among the trinkets and jewels as big as rocks, he saw a silver pocket watch. It wasn’t a particularly costly watch. It was scratched, discoloured and the hands ticked too fast. It reminded him of the watch that had got him locked up. The watch he’d promised to Mr K.

  He looked down at Balthazar.

  ‘Sir, is it alright if I…’

  ‘Help yourself. There’s no rush,’ said Balthazar, making no attempt to disguise his speaking. The market was loud, busy and no one was really paying attention to small four legged creatures.

  Niclas stepped closer to the stall and the lady in charge sprang up before him.

  ‘’Ello, ’ello. See something you like?’ It was strange, Niclas thought, how people treated you differently when you dressed all respectable-like. Had he still been the dirty guttersnipe in torn, baggy rags, he’d have been shooed like a rat.

  ‘I’s just lookin’, miss, that’s all.’

  ‘You like the watch?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  ‘It’s a florin, my dear, on account of it being a little too fast.’

  Niclas brightened. To have your very own pocket watch was a symbol of status. It made you look important, or at least feel important.

  ‘A florin yeah?’ he said. ‘’Av’ you got one wot don’t tick too fast?’

  ‘Yes I do. But surely you don’t want one of those,’ replied the lady. ‘This one’s special, ain’t it? And at a discount price.’

  ‘Can it be fixed?’

  ‘Why would you want to fix it, my dear?’

  ‘Cause it tick too fast innit?’

  ‘But that’s what makes it special. You’ll always be early. Never late. And things will always happen sooner than they is meant to! Just two of the many perks of it.’

  ‘Righto.’

  Niclas looked down at his feet and pulled a pleading face to ask the cat’s permission.

  Balthazar, mid bath, gave consent.

  Niclas reached into the purse, counted out a couple of shillings and handed them over. It was a good purchase, something he’d actually use, and it’d help him serve his master that much better. Better still if he could read the time.

  He grabbed the watch and stared at the minute hand up close. It was ticking as fast as a second hand. Niclas didn’t know much about watches, but he figured it made this one unique.

  He was stood, watching the minutes tick by like seconds, literally, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a tiny pale hand snatch a ring from the stall. When he looked up, a small child was disappearing into the crowd.

  He followed.

  Balthazar, who hadn’t been consulted on this sudden change of direction, interrupted his bath to follow after.

  Niclas was sure he recognised the boy’s ginger hair, pale skin and freckles. As he neared closer he recognised him even more. The boy, on the other hand, didn’t recognise Niclas at all. And the closer Niclas got to him the faster he moved through the crowd, darting panicked looks over his shoulder.

  ‘Hey!’ said Niclas.

  The small freckled boy moved away from the market and towards the buildings and alleyways.

  ‘Hey, wait!’ Niclas wasn’t used to people running away from him. He wasn’t even aware that the boy was running away from him.

  ‘Hey–’

  What happened next, happened fast.

  Lightning fast.

  A firm set of grubby hands seized Niclas by his armpits and rushed him off into the side street.

  He was thrown against the wall, the bag of mysterious ingredients emptying out and the purse of coins scattering across the cobbles. Niclas cowered away from his attackers. A trickle of blood came down his brow.

  At first, he was taken by surprise; he didn’t know if he was being mugged or getting pinched. But when his senses came back to him and he looked up at the two towering thugs, he saw both had ugly, brutish, yet familiar faces.

  ‘Well, well, well…’ said Archie.

  ‘This is a pleasant surprise, ain’t it?’ said Clyde.

  ‘We fawt you woz done for little Nick. We fawt them watchmen ’ad done you in. Locked you up and thrown away the key.’

  ‘Didn’t fink we’d see you again, that’s for sure. Wot’s all these shiny coins? A big steal is it?’

  ‘And where’d you get this fancy look?’ Archie bent down and caressed the green waistcoat between his fingers.

  ‘I…’

  ‘Wot? You wot?’ Archie snarled. ‘You know, Mr K is pretty peeved. Wait till ’e sees you again. ’E’s gonna be overcome with joy.’

  ‘’E’s gonna beat ya, that’s wot’ll ’appen. When ’e finds out you done a runner on us, caaw, I wouldn’t wanna be in your shoes,’ said Clyde.

  ‘Saaaay, where’d you get them fancy shoes?’

  ‘Look, sirs, there’s bin a proper bad misunderstandin’. I ain’t done no runner, I promise, I–’

  ‘Shut it you miserable creature!’ said Archie. His breath reeked of gin, just one waft of it was enough to make Niclas drowsy. ‘You can’t lie your way out, little Nick, you’re in the deep end now.’

  ‘Yeah – and you’re the one who can’t swim, if me memory serves me right?’ said Clyde.

  Archie moved his oversized hand up onto Niclas’ shoulder, then onto his throat. He squeezed him like an orange.

  ‘Where’d you get the coin, boy?’

  ‘I found it,’ Niclas croaked, turning purple.

  ‘Don’t you be lyin’ to me, little Nick, I’ll snap you like a match stick.’

  ‘Ha! Good one,’ added Clyde.

  ‘I swear! I swear it! I’m workin’ for this gen’l’man wot busted me out
o’ the cells–’

  ‘Oh yeah? Who is ’e?’

  ‘’E’s… ’e’s… ’e’s a cat!’

  ‘A wot now?’ Archie squeezed tighter. It wasn’t the most effective way to interrogate someone.

  ‘Ah… ah…’ The colour was draining from Niclas’ face.

  The thug loosened his grip and shook his head firmly from side to side.

  ‘It’s the troof, I swear it. I wouldn’t lie to you, sir!’

  ‘Club,’ said Archie, holding out his hand the way surgeons do in the operating theatre.

  Clyde’s toothless grin expanded. He unbuckled a truncheon and placed it into Archie’s hand.

  ‘Now – I’m goin’ t’ask you one more time – where’d you get the coin?’

  ‘I swear it, Archie… It belongs to a cat.’ Niclas’ words had become messy and incomprehensible. It was the choking expectation of pain more than anything else.

  ‘Clyde? Left or right?’

  ‘That’s a tricky one,’ said Clyde. ‘How about you bash in the left and let me bash in the right? We’ll bash ’em in at the same time. Make it fair.’

  Niclas had no escape, the two men stood around him like a fence.

  His legs were pulled out, held down and the thugs took their positions with the clubs.

  ‘You ain’t ever gonna walk again, boy, unless you start tellin’ me the troof,’ said Archie.

  Niclas closed his eyes. He decided it was for the best. Things always hurt twice as much when you watched them happen.

  But as Archie and Clyde raised their clubs with eager and vicious expressions, they were stopped by a voice from downwind.

  Balthazar’s voice.

  They turned, lowered their clubs, and looked straight past the cat.

  ‘Who’s there?’ said Archie.

  ‘I said I hope you don’t intend to damage my property,’ the cat said.

  ‘That cat just spoke?’ said Clyde.

  ‘Don’t be an eejit, cats can’t talk,’ said Archie, having seen no less than his counterpart.

  ‘What business have you with this boy?’ Balthazar stepped closer. Close enough for them to see his mouth moving below his bright green eyes.

  ‘I’ve drank me own weight in gin and lost me bleedin’ mind, Archie,’ said Clyde.

  Archie said nothing. He was still weighing up the situation.

  ‘I only ask as I have employed him as my assistant, and I can’t stress enough how useless he would be to me without those legs of his.’

  Archie and Clyde looked at each other, then at Niclas, who was trying to mouth a warning to his master that these two gents were not to be messed with.

  ‘I don’t want any trouble, honestly. But I’d appreciate it if you would step away from my property.’

  ‘…’

  ‘…’

  ‘You can have the money,’ the cat continued. ‘Take it as a symbol of my good will and be on your way.’

  Clyde scanned the shillings around their feet. After a brief silence, he reached down to pick one up. Archie’s boot came crunching down on top of it.

  ‘Listen ’ere, gov, I dunno wot this is, or ’ow it’s bein’ done – but I ain’t in the mood t’do business wiv no cat.’

  If Niclas had been into gambling, he’d have placed a considerable bet on the two thugs. They were Mr K’s lieutenants, part of the inner circle, part of the wolf pack. And wolves against a cat had to be the most one sided fight he’d ever heard of.

  But Balthazar didn’t look the slightest bit afraid.

  And that made it worth watching.

  ‘You would be wise to take my offer,’ the cat insisted.

  ‘Clyde. Sort it.’

  Clyde wasn’t sure what was meant by “sort it”. He was the furthest from the cat and it made no sense as to why he should be the one to “sort it”. But Archie was as serious as he could be, and knowing exactly what happened when Archie wasn’t taken seriously enough, Clyde took a step forwards and started slapping the club against his open palm.

  ‘’Ere, kitty, kitty. ’Ere, kitty, kitty…’

  Balthazar kept his eyes fixed on the eyes of the approaching thug.

  He began whispering beneath his whiskers and little black nose. It was a ghostly whispering; a cryptic tongue that to untrained ears sounded like nothing more than gibberish – either that or a very unconvincing feline hiss.

  After taking just two more steps, Clyde stopped and fell silent.

  ‘Clyde?’ shouted Archie. ‘Oi?’

  Clyde turned on the spot and stared coldly through his partner.

  His face was blank, all expression and personality had fallen away.

  ‘Wot you doin’?’ said Archie. ‘I told you to sort it? Don’t tell me you’ve gone ’n’ got the willies!’

  Clyde said nothing. He just stood there – like a zombie.

  ‘I’ll sort it then!’ said Archie, raising his club and rushing towards the cat.

  Suddenly, and it really did happen suddenly, Clyde swung out his club and struck Archie in the head.

  Archie grabbed his face and reeled into the wall. Niclas scuttled away, narrowly avoiding a trampling.

  ‘Clyde, you friggin’ moron!’ blathered Archie. ‘’Av’ you blummin’ lo–’

  Again, without remorse, Clyde struck him.

  The blow came to the back of his head precisely as he was pronouncing the Luh in “lost it”, and so his tongue was caught between a set of violently clenching jaws, severing its tip. He went with the force of the strike and landed in a mess on the floor.

  The whispering stopped.

  Clyde dropped the club and looked at his hands as if waking from a dream. He stared back fearfully at the cat.

  ‘Now. Run along,’ said Balthazar.

  There was a brief hesitation, then Clyde legged it. His legs carried him away so fast that he tripped over his own feet at the end of the alley.

  Archie spat blood into his palm. He was trying to work out whether he was lying on the floor or the metaphorical ceiling. He watched, dizzily as the cat came closer.

  ‘You should have taken the money shouldn’t you?’ said Balthazar.

  Archie did dare a reply but it was lost in his spittle and befuddlement.

  ‘I trust I won’t be seeing you again?’ said Balthazar. ‘Pick up the shopping, boy, and gather the coins.’

  Niclas stood. Taking care not to stray too close to the groaning thug, he picked up the coins, filled the purse and collected the bag of mysterious ingredients. Then he followed his master out of the alley, looking back only once at the crippled Archie, who was still trying to discern what was who, who was where, and where why had run off to.

  ‘’Ow’d you do that, sir?’ said Niclas, as they left the alley and entered the street.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Err… I dunno exactly, but you did summin right? You made ’em beat each other up back there?’

  ‘Ah, yes, that.’

  ‘Well? ‘Ow’d you do it?’

  ‘It’s a trick.’

  ‘A trick?’

  ‘Yes. One of my many talents.’

  Niclas stopped to think about this. Then raced after the cat.

  ‘I don’t get it, sir?’

  ‘Remember what we’ve said about things you don’t understand. There’s no point in trying.’

  ‘But… you didn’t touch ’em or nuffin’. I never seen Archie and Clyde take a beatin’ like that.’

  ‘You know those men?’

  ‘Sure I knows ’em, sir. They’re the Bowler Gang. Me old employers before you, sir. ’S’ow I wound up gettin’ pinched, sir.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Wot was all that mumbo jumbo I saw you mow’vin’?’

  ‘Mumbo jumbo?’

  ‘Yeah. You was sayin’ summin? I just don’t get it, sir. Them two great big men, and you, just a little black cat. No offence meant, sir.’

  ‘None taken. I suppose you’re not familiar with the expression size doesn’t matter?’


  ‘Oh I’ve ’eard that one, sir. The lady folk downstairs in the Garter were gigglin’ to themselves ’bout it t’other day. Only they said it the other way round… I fink.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘But how’d you do it, sir, whatever you did?’

  ‘Look, it’s not what you are that matters in this world, boy, it’s what you know.’

  ‘Know?’

  ‘Knowledge.’

  ‘O, I didn’t get much of an education, sir…’

  ‘No, I didn’t think so. If there was a ladder representing all the intelligence of this world, I’d expect to find you somewhere at the bottom.’

  ‘You’re very kind, sir,’ said Niclas, taking it as a compliment to even be on the ladder at all.

  ‘I have a particular knowledge about certain things that I can use to my advantage. It’s a science known by few people but a powerful one.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘There are those, like myself, who practice it. And there are those who condemn it. It is forbidden here, so it’s best if we speak no more about it.’

  ‘Could you teach me some stuff, sir?’

  Balthazar stopped and looked up at Niclas. The boy’s face was beaming with pathetic enthusiasm.

  ‘No.’

  Niclas frowned.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well for a start you can’t even read or write, you can hardly count, and…’ Balthazar could see Niclas wasn’t taking the criticism of his abilities very well. He looked like he was about to cry. Balthazar hated it when people cried, it was such a useless thing to do.

  ‘Maybe, and that’s a big maybe, if you perform your duties right, I could teach you a few things,’ said the cat, changing his tone.

  ‘Really! Wow! That’s great, sir. I’d really like that! I won’t let you down, sir. I’ll get up extra early and do whatever, sir. T’fink, I might be able to give Archie ’n’ Clyde a taste of their own good–’

  ‘Don’t get carried away. I think the alphabet would be a good place to start.’

  ‘Wot’s an alphabet?’

  Sometimes in life, you regret things immediately after saying them. For Balthazar, this was one of those such moments.

  Across town, in a part that didn’t smell at all like horse dung, Cassandra was busy trying to make sense of her dreams.