The Ruby Talisman

by Belinda Murrell

  ‘Ye must be quiet as a fish,’ whispered Piran. ‘Just follow me, and be careful.’

  Captain Trevelyan stood by to wish them farewell. ‘May ye three find peace and good fortune in a new land,’ he murmured. ‘I will stay on aboard ship, but Piran will look after you ashore. Everything has been arranged. You will be safe in Polperro.’

  19

  The Crumplehorn Inn

  Sailors in the rowboat below caught the packages as they were lowered down, including Tilly and Amelie. Waves crashed over the sides of the boat, wetting them to the skin. At a silent signal, two of the sailors grasped the oars and pulled through the surf. The small boat rose on the swell and surfed in on the crest of a wave.

  Tilly gripped the gunwale with both hands, her stomach flipping at the powerful suck and surge of the sea. Her teeth chattered as she shivered in her wet clothes. The rowboat ground on shaly sand and the men jumped out into the shallow water, pulling out bundles from the boat.

  The cargo was loaded onto the beach above the watermark, then two of the crew clambered back in the rowboat to return to the Mermaid of Zennor. Two other sailors helped push the rowboat off the beach and back out to sea.

  Silently, Piran handed out parcels and bundles to everyone. The tubs were worn on leather straps over both shoulders, with one on the back and one on the front. Piran hoisted a pair of tubs over Henri’s shoulders, then over his own. He gave Amelie and Tilly a lighter pair of packages wrapped in oilskin to carry on their backs.

  Piran strode after the other men towards the shore, gesturing for them to follow. Sheer cliffs towered over their heads into the pitch blackness. The sky was a lighter shade of black, spangled with stars.

  Men were clambering up the cliff. On closer inspection, Tilly realised they were climbing a flimsy rope ladder. No-one spoke a word. A man slipped and lost his footing, tumbling down the rope a few metres. Even then he did not cry out, merely grappling to retrieve his balance and resume his climb.

  Behind them, the rowboat reached the ship, then the Mermaid of Zennorquickly raised its sails and slipped away into the night, becoming invisible in moments.

  Tilly stood on the shale, quivering with anticipation and watching everything around her.

  Soon it was Piran’s turn to climb the rope ladder, then Amelie, followed by Mimi, Tilly and Henri. How would we ever have transported Juju up the steep cliff?Tilly thought. She knew Henri would have found a way.

  The climb was sheer and frightening in the dark, the yawning chasm far below. The surf pounded on the beach, the only sound in the empty night. Tilly panted as she climbed and climbed on, not daring to look down. She could feel the rope ladder swinging wildly against the cliff. Her knuckles grazed against rock.

  At one point her foot slipped off a wooden rung, and Tilly lunged wildly, sensing the long drop below. Henri grabbed her ankle and guided her foot back onto the rung.

  ‘Thanks,’ Tilly whispered and kept climbing. At last she reached the top of the cliff, where a seething mass of people and animals and cargo were stealthily being unloaded and loaded.

  It was organised chaos. The tubmen strode off into the darkness in all directions, carrying their brandy or wine.

  A string of coal-black ponies were loaded with packages, barrels and kegs. When Tilly walked up to stroke the leader’s nose she realised the ponies were shaved to the skin and oiled so they could easily slip through the fingers of any pursuing customs officer. Their hooves were muffled with rags, and they wore no ironmongery to jingle and clang.

  In seconds, the ponies were loaded and disappeared into the night.

  A fisherman held the head of another dark pony, which was harnessed to a rickety old cart, its wheels muffled with rags as well.

  ‘Ye are to ride in the cart to Polperro,’ whispered Piran. ‘It will take ye to the Crumplehorn Inn, where ye can ’tay till ye find transport further afield. Speak naught of ’ow ye came ’ere. There is a customs man who dwells in Polperro, but he has no ’ope of stopping the smuggling trade ’ereabouts.’

  The cart turned out to be piled high with soggy, wet kelp over various kegs and barrels destined for the Crumplehorn Inn. Henri, Amelie, Mimi and Tilly reluctantly hid themselves under the mounds of seaweed.

  Mimi complained loudly, chittering and jumping up and down.

  ‘Can ye keep the monkey quiet?’ hissed Piran. ‘She’ll give us all away to the patrols.’

  Amelie scooped Mimi up and petted her gently, soothing her with voice and hand. Mimi became quiet.

  Piran supervised the packing of the cart, draping seaweed artfully over Tilly and Amelie to cover them from view.

  ‘Bon voyage,’ whispered Piran cheerily as the fisherman clicked to his pony and the cart lurched forward.

  Through a crack in the side of the cart, Tilly could see Piran striding off with his tubs. She wondered if he was returning to his fishing family after his adventures away, laden with contraband and stories of his exploits. She wondered if they would feature in the story – the romantic French aristocrats who escaped with nothing but a monkey and a handful of jewels.

  The cart rolled across the moors with a ghostly rumbling and rattling over ruts and rocks and puddles. Eventually, the road sloped steeply downwards, and the fisherman had to use the brake to stop the pony and cart from tumbling down the hill into the harbour.

  At last, the cart jolted to a stop. Peeking under her covering of wet kelp, Tilly could see some buildings huddled in the lee of the hill.

  The fisherman silently gestured for the three to climb down from the cart. They were ushered through the courtyard and whisked inside the front door of the Crumplehorn Inn. The door was closed behind them, and only then was a dim light allowed to flicker.

  ‘Welcome to the Crumplehorn Inn,’ said a homely woman dressed in homespun clothes. ‘Our inn is very simple, but Captain Trevelyan has asked me to look after ye. My name is Mrs Gillit.’

  She examined them closely, taking in their filthy clothes, scratches and bruises, and pale, frightened faces. She smiled at them warmly.

  ‘Do naught worry,’ Mrs Gillit assured them. ‘Ye are safe here. Ye are under Captain Trevelyan’s protection, and that is worth more than the King of England’s in these parts. Captain Trevelyan has ordered half a dozen men to watch the inn tonight. Ye sleep here, then tomorrow my husband will take ye on the first stage of your trip to London.’

  Tilly glanced at Henri in wonder. How could this woman have received a message from Captain Trevelyan to look after them?

  Mrs Gillit smiled knowingly and tapped the side of her nose. ‘Smuggler’s code,’ she said. ‘Word travels fast and secretly on the Cornish coast. We ’ave knowt for the last ’our to expect ye, which was enough time to make up three beds, warm baths and cook an ’onest Cornish supper. I even knew ye’d have a monkey with ye!’

  Tilly felt the anxious knot in her belly relax. Amelie smiled at Tilly and sighed happily. The last warm bath they had had was in the Chateau de Montjoyeuse before it was burnt to the ground. Tilly could not think of anything better.

  The three were shown upstairs to separate bedchambers. Tilly’s room was small and tucked under the roof. It reminded her of Auntie Kara’s attic bedroom. The sudden thought made her feel terribly homesick.

  Tilly also thought about her mum, who was feeling so sad and helpless. She thought about her younger brother, Tim, and how they used to play together and watch cartoons on Friday nights and eat corn chips with hummus. She thought about her friends at school and how she had let herself drift away from them by being sad and angry and sorry for herself.

  Lastly, she thought about her dad, who she hadn’t spoken to in months. She remembered what he was like before he had left to live with Bunny. He was funny and loving and made her laugh with his silly voices and jokes. She would give anything now to give him a big hug, tell him how sorry she was and how much she missed him. A few tears gathered and dripped down her nose. Tilly gave herself a mental shake.

  I must be
tired, she thought. After all we’ve been through to be crying now that Amelie is finally safe in Cornwall. I just wonder if I’ll ever go home again?

  There was a tub of hot water in the room, with a large bar of rose-scented soap and a pile of linen sheets and clean clothes. Tilly stripped off and lowered herself into the hot tub, lathering up the soap and massaging her arms and legs. Flecks of green kelp came away from her skin and hair.

  Her exhausted body was covered in scratches, bruises and scabs. The hot water soaked away the physical aches and pains, but also the emotional strains. The steamy, sweet-smelling bath made her feel so much better.

  Tilly remembered Auntie Kara saying that a hot bath could wash away all sorts of miseries. Perhaps she was right. Tilly sank beneath the water, letting it lap over her face.

  After the bath, Tilly dressed herself in a clean cotton chemise and a simple blue gown, which Mrs Gillit had left on the bed. In the spotted looking glass, she gazed at her reflection. She took a comb from the dressing table, ran it through her tangled hair and used a blue ribbon to tie her hair half back and half out. She couldn’t do as good a job as Amelie, but it still looked pretty.

  The ruby necklace around her throat flashed with fire in the candlelight, warming her with its glow. She stroked it with her fingers.

  Downstairs, Amelie and Henri were already seated at a dark oak table in front of a fire. Mrs Gillit had set the table with blue-and-white china.

  Henri looked more like his old aristocratic self – dark hair tied back with a black ribbon, a white linen shirt, a lace cravat, fawn breeches and a blue coat. He had shaved and looked neat and respectable. Amelie wore a simple green gown with style. Her glossy black hair, coaxed into ringlets, gleamed once more. The ruby talisman sparkled on her chest. Both of them had lost their aristocratic pallor and had tanned skin from their days living in the open air.

  ‘Ah, ye look better now, my poppet,’ said Mrs Gillit, nodding her head sagely as Tilly sat down. ‘From what Captain Trevelyan said, ye had a tough time escaping from those murderous Frenchmen. It sounds like ’tis very dangerous across the sea right now, with people killing each other and burning ’ouses and suchlike. They say the French Queen may be sent into exile or locked up in a convent.’

  Amelie and Henri looked blankly at Tilly. They couldn’t understand Mrs Gillit’s heavily accented English.

  ‘It was terrible,’ agreed Tilly. ‘Henri and Amelie have lost everything. Henri’s parents were murdered. Their home was burnt and they were nearly killed several times.’

  Mrs Gillit huffed with disapproval at the strange foreign ways of the ‘murderous’ French and bustled to the sideboard to fetch the meal. She carried over a large fish pie with golden, buttery pastry. A jug of foaming apple cider was on the table, along with warm bread from the oven and a hunk of yellow butter.

  Mimi jumped onto the table, chittering in excitement. She snatched a piece of bread and scrambled up onto the mantelpiece where no-one could steal it from her.

  ‘Now, I won’t have monkeys stealing my good food,’ scolded Mrs Gillit. ‘I ’ave some scraps for the pigs in the kitchen and she can ’ave some of that.’

  Mimi chattered back at Mrs Gillit in disgust. Pig scraps indeed!

  Mrs Gillit cut into the pie, releasing a cloud of steam. The delicious aroma made Tilly’s tummy rumble. The meal at Honfleur seemed like a very long time ago. Mrs Gillit served huge wedges of pie and left the three to help themselves to the rest.

  Henri poured tankards of sparkling cider.

  ‘We did it,’ Tilly said with a smile as she raised her tankard in a toast. ‘Here’s to being safe in England.’

  Henri and Amelie raised their tankards and returned the toast.

  ‘We are safe here, do you think?’ asked Amelie warily, glancing around the cosy taproom.

  ‘I trust Captain Trevelyan,’ agreed Henri. ‘Despite being a smuggler, I feel that he is an honourable man. Mrs Gillit seems trustworthy, too.’

  The three began to eat hungrily.

  ‘What a journey,’ exclaimed Amelie between mouthfuls. ‘I thought we would never make it.’

  ‘It certainly was,’ agreed Tilly, thinking over everything that had happened.

  ‘Thanks to you, Tilly,’ offered Henri. ‘You are the bravest girl I have ever met.’

  ‘It wasn’t bravery,’ argued Tilly. ‘I just knew what would happen if we didn’t escape.’

  Amelie rolled her eyes at Henri and gurgled her happy laugh. ‘Here’s to friendship,’ she toasted. ‘To the best friends anyone could ever have.’

  ‘To friendship,’ said Henri.

  ‘And to a bright future,’ added Tilly as they all clinked tankards.

  They sipped on their bubbly cider.

  ‘And a good Cornish meal,’ said Henri, picking up another forkful of fish pie.

  Mimi grabbed a pewter tankard from the mantelpiece and skittered down on to the table, solemnly clinking tankards with each one of them in turn, then up-ending her empty tankard and pretending to swallow it down.

  Tilly, Henri and Amelie laughed, amused as always by Mimi’s antics.

  Henri suddenly put down his fork and stared at Tilly thoughtfully. ‘You know I am very grateful, Tilly, but are you ever going to let me in on the secret?’

  Tilly swallowed hastily, nearly choking on her pie.

  ‘Secret?’ she replied, glancing at Amelie for help. Amelie picked up her ruby pendant and played with it nervously.

  ‘Yes, where do you come from and how did you so mysteriously appear just in time to help us escape? Who are you? I know there is more to you than I thought. And why do you wear an identical necklace to Amelie?’

  Tilly dropped her eyes to the tablecloth and thought, What should I say? Would Henri think I’m crazy if I told the truth? What would he think of me?

  Tilly took a deep breath.

  ‘Henri, I come from the future,’ Tilly finally stated, not looking at Henri or Amelie.

  ‘The future!’ exclaimed Henri in disbelief, pushing back from the table. ‘’Tis impossible.’

  Tilly pulled out the ruby necklace and showed it to Henri. Amelie held up her necklace as well.

  ‘I travelled back here by some magic of the ruby necklace,’ Tilly explained. ‘Amelie and I both wished on the ruby talisman at the same time – well, two hundred and thirty years apart – and I woke up here.’

  Tilly stared at Henri, willing him to believe her. Henri stared back at her, his face an expression of shock.

  ‘I knew what happened in Paris and Versailles during the French Revolution,’ Tilly continued. ‘I knew that Amelie had to escape to England to survive the violence of the Reign of Terror. Somehow I believe our destinies have been intertwined. I am one of Amelie’s distant descendants.’

  A flurry of emotions passed across Henri’s face – shock, disbelief, hurt, realisation and, finally, acceptance.

  ‘I see,’ he murmured, glancing at Amelie for confirmation.

  Amelie simply nodded, too tired and overwhelmed to argue or explain.

  ‘I knew you were an unusual girl, but I did not realise quite how unusual,’ Henri said. ‘Is the future good? Do things improve?’

  Tilly thought about life. She thought about the differences between eighteenth-century France – its shocking inequalities, poverty, violence, decadence and cruelty – and her own normal life in her own simple family in twenty-first-century Australia.

  ‘Life is very good,’ Tilly offered with a smile. ‘Of course, it always has its ups and downs, but we are so lucky in my time. Amelie has a lucky life, too. She makes a new home in England. She marries, has children and creates a life for herself. The future is full of wonderful possibilities.’

  Amelie smiled gratefully, imagining her new life opening up before her.

  Henri took Tilly’s hand and kissed it gently.

  ‘Thank you, mademoiselle Tilly,’ Henri said. ‘Thank you for everything you have done for us.’

  Tilly blushed, her
hand burning where Henri had kissed it.

  ‘It was nothing. I mean, I loved it,’ Tilly replied bashfully.

  ‘Do you know who I marry?’ Amelie asked suddenly, her eyes flashing with curiosity. ‘It is not some boring old baron or duke, is it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ answered Tilly truthfully, ‘but I think you follow your heart.’

  Amelie smiled secretively and resumed eating her pie. Tilly gazed wistfully at them both. Whatever will happen to us all?

  After the meal, everyone was exhausted and went upstairs to bed.

  At the top of the stairs, Tilly suddenly turned back and hugged Amelie and then Henri.

  ‘Goodnight, Amelie. Goodnight, Henri. Sleep well.’

  ‘Bon nuit,’ chorused Amelie and Henri. ‘See you in the morning.’

  Mimi jumped up onto Tilly’s leg and clambered onto her shoulder, winding her furry arm around Tilly’s neck. Mimi chattered softly in Tilly’s ear and then gently nibbled her earlobe, stroking Tilly’s hair.

  ‘Oh,’ Tilly cried, patting Mimi’s soft brown head. ‘Mimi’s never done that before. I thought she hated me.’

  ‘Mimi takes a long time to get to know people, but once she does, she’s your friend for life,’ Amelie explained with a giggle.

  Tilly picked up Mimi and gently handed her back to Amelie. ‘Goodnight, Mimi. Sleep well.’

  Tilly closed the crooked, low door behind her. She had to stoop to go under the lintel. A feeling of sadness washed over her. She undressed, leaving only her chemise on, and climbed into the narrow bed.

  Her thoughts travelled through all the adventures she had had since coming to eighteenth-century France – the danger, the violence, the terror, but also the fun, the friendship and the excitement. Then her thoughts turned once more to her family and home. Images of her old life tumbled through her mind, chasing each other in dreamy confusion.

  Tilly cradled the ruby talisman in her hands.

  I wish I could go home now, she thought. I miss my family and friends.

  ***

  When Tilly finally woke, sunshine was pouring in through the attic window and dancing on the sloped ceiling. Her eyes were heavy and her body felt like lead. She closed her eyes and snuggled down into the pillow again. Sounds and smells gradually forced their way into the drowsy cotton-wool of her brain.