Nathan winced. “But he said he had lots of grandchildren. His name was William Octobr and the grandkids called him Grandpa Octobr.”
“Don’t know nuffing ‘bout the man.” John shook his head.
“I quite liked him,” said Nathan, although this was not entirely true. “I would have attended his funeral if I knew when it was.”
Shrugging, John turned to Poppy. “Don’t reckon I’ll go to no funerals in me life, till tis time to go to me own.”
Poppy, grinning, was staring out at the river. “Even the Thames has changed. Look, this is wider and more open. How does a river change?”
“People building up the banks,” said Nathan. “But hurry up. I want to hear the good news.”
Already the group outside the judge’s office was animated, and growing larger. A tall gentleman in his judge’s robes, was explaining the seal on the document. Alice, looking flushed, was peeping over his arm, and nodding. Alfie was almost jumping up and down, Uncle Henry and Aunt Margaret were even more flushed than Alice, and looked as though they had just run three times all the way around the cathedral.
Within moments, Alice clapped her hands and rushed to hug her aunt and uncle. The judge nodded to Alice, handed over the document he had been holding, turned on his heel and returned to his chambers. Aunt Margaret squeaked, sounding rather like Mouse, and Alice, laughing, turned to acknowledge the others. Nathan said, “You look as though you’ve won the lottery,” and then apologised because he knew she’d have no idea what the lottery was. “So it all turned out as you hoped?” he asked.
“Better.” Alice danced, pointing her stockinged toes. “The order for my horrid step-father to vacate my home will be delivered to him tomorrow morning. I hold the document, signed and sealed, that states I am the sole owner of the property, and that my legal guardians are my aunt and uncle. Everything is – perfect.” Her smile was ecstatic. “Oh, Nat – so much is thanks to you. Since you came, and talked about making things happen, and then giving ideas and helping with so much, my life has changed entirely. I can’t thank you enough.”
Nathan really didn’t feel as though he had done much. “That’s sweet of you,” he said, smiling back at her. But it’s only what you deserve, after all. I mean – it really is your house.”
“That’s what the judge said. You saw him. He even came outside with me to say goodbye and explain a few things. And now I feel as if the whole world is smiling.”
“Wish it was.” Alfie was looking up to the sky. “Looks like t’will rain any moment.”
The clouds had darkened, but the sunshine still managed to blink through in glimpses. Nathan looked up, nodding, and wondering if it would pour just in time for them all to walk home. Then, as well as being dressed in rags, he’d be soaked. But it was as he was staring upwards that he was sure he saw something else peep between the darkening clouds. He thought he saw an unexpected stripe of bright red, and two of gold. So he shook the hair out of his eyes and looked again. This time he could see nothing, only the glowering shadows as the clouds closed, blocking out the last of the sunshine.
“So,” Poppy was asking, “what do we do now? Go to your house and kick the mean baron out?”
“I wish I could,” Alice said. “But I have to wait until he’s been served with the papers tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, all we can do is wait.”
“Buy pies,” suggested Alfie. “We got the king’s money.”
“And take one home for Sam,” added Peter.
They stood in a cheerful group outside the tall buildings in Carter Lane, and were discussing dinner, how wonderful life was, and what they could take home for Mouse and Pimple, when another, very different, party swept around the corner, stopping in some surprise right in front of them.
One tall and haughty man, wearing a vast scarlet cloak, led the group, his head high, and his hat a wide-brimmed crimson with two long feathers shading his eyes. Behind him a cluster of officials, including two burly men in workman’s tunics and heavy boots, stood awaiting the tall man’s decision. But behind everyone, peering carefully around the side of the two strongmen, were both the baron and his brother Edmund.
Uncle Henry stepped forwards and greeted the proud Constable in his scarlet cape. I wonder if I might be of any assistance, sir, since I am the Lady Parry’s legal guardian.”
A somewhat muffled voice from behind, objected with a muttered, “Not true. Not true at all.”
The Constable paused, waved one beringed and dismissive hand. “Do you have documents to back your statement, sir?”
He did, flustered but determined, Uncle Henry grabbed the parchment from Alice’s fluttering fingers, and held it out to the Constable.
“Take it. Tear it up,” said the same distant voice, half muffled.
But the Constable seemed unsure. “This is signed with the seal of Judge Collingwood,” he said, tapping the scrawled signature. “A gentleman of the finest ability and utterly trustworthy. But I understand this is a difficult case, and the claim may be false. I require to speak with Judge Collingwood.”
“Bother,” whispered Alice.
“Oh dear,” whispered Aunt Margaret.”
“That’s not fair,” whispered Nathan.
Uncle Henry frowned. “If it pleases you, my lord, I will request the judge to meet with you upstairs. But I have had many meetings with him and my lawyer concerning this, and am assured that my claim is just, and is now certified.”
“I shall see, sir.” And the Constable opened the downstairs entrance to the chambers and marched in, shouting at a page to inform Judge Collingwood that the Constable himself wished a word with him.”
The door shut behind him.
Nathan was momentarily amused to see that both Edmund Darling and the baron stayed carefully at the rear of the two rough men and did not seem at all ready to face Alice and her friends. Having been badly outmatched once, apparently they had no wish to try again. Both had bruised faces, and the baron’s left hand was thickly bandaged. The little group of officials stood separate from the others, as if they would not demean themselves by being seen too close to such people. Indeed, the baron was hiding behind those taller than himself, but only Edmund seemed willing to stand close to him.
Talking softly amongst themselves, the officials did not speak to Alice nor her friends. Alice stood, arms crossed, and glared at everyone. Poppy meanwhile was picking daisies from a scrubby strip of grass along the side of Addle Hill, where the slope led down towards the river. Nathan walked over to her.
“Showing you’re not frightened?” he asked her, grinning.
But Poppy looked up in surprise. “No. I like daisies.” Which is when everything started to change once again.
Firstly the Constable marched from the judge’s chambers, holding up the sealed document. He addressed the baron directly. “My lord, I am sorry to have to tell you that your guardianship of the Lady Alice, your step-daughter, is no longer valid. Judge Collingwood is accurate in his findings. We have looked over the situation together. And it is quite clear. The assumption of your guardianship was entirely mistaken.”
Ignoring Edmund, who was cringing, the Constable walked over, and showed the document to the baron, who blinked, blanched, and then stood straight. “My Lord Constable, I am sure, indeed, quite, quite positive,” he said loudly, as though addressing the deaf, “that this document has been falsified.”
“I am not so easily duped, sir,” announced the Constable. “Judge Collingwood has only just issued this document, which corroborates my opinion. There will be no arrest this morning of the Lady Alice and her young friends, not unless you have more evidence to bring against them.” He looked over, searchingly. “You have cited your injuries, my lord. But I can see most clearly that these young persons have also been severely injured themselves.”
“Self defence,” muttered Edmund.
“I therefore find,” continued the Constable, “that your habitation of the Parry residence is unlawful. You must leave th
e property forthwith, my lord, and make no further claim. The Lady Alice is now the ward of her Aunt Margaret and her Uncle Henry Fallows until she turns sixteen years of age, or marries.”
Edmund went pink and swore under his breath.
Alice thanked the Constable, who bowed very briefly, nodded to his men to follow him, and strode off. Edmund, the baron, and their two swarthy companions watched them go. Alice stared back at her step-father.
“So when are you leaving?”
“Insolent female,” the baron stamped one foot. “I’ve no intention of leaving. Indeed, I may sell the property privately and then leave the country. Or I may catch you as I did before, and cut your pretty throat.”
Although, wishing to keep the peace, Uncle Henry put out a protective arm, Alice was furious. “You’ve no shame, you horrible, evil old man. How dare you flout the Constable and the judge and the lawyers too? I hope they throw you into the Tower and chop your head off.”
As usual, the baron lost his temper. He stomped forwards, reached out and slapped Alice with his one bandaged hand, but as he reached to grab her with the other, Aunt Margaret screamed and Uncle Henry marched over and stood threatening the baron, whilst Alfie, John and Nathan surrounded him, punching out. Poppy threw her daisies into his face and yelled. One small daisy hovered on his nose and another had stuck to his eyebrow. Lurching sideways, he grabbed a large handful of Poppy’s hair and swung her to face him. Shouting and spitting, he hissed, “If any of you dare touch me once more with your filthy little paws, I shall hurt this brat a great deal more.”
Which was when the darkening clouds parted as though a vast black curtain was pulled back, and with a swoop of brilliant colour, the balloon swung down, and Brewster Hazlett leaned out with an echoing cackle.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nathan, running at the baron to free his sister, was knocked over by the rickety little basket, and instead Brewster, still laughing, poked one very long thin finger at the baron’s nose, making him squint, and then snatched up Poppy, who flew through the air like a Ping-Pong ball, landing directly on top of Nathan.
Everyone else was staring open-mouthed at the swaying splurge of sound, colour and confusion. Aunt Margaret staggered, clasped her hands together in prayer, and promptly fainted. Alice screamed. Alfie and John raced towards Brewster, expecting a fight, whilst Uncle Henry stood very still and gazed in unmoving astonishment. Peter, delighted by the magical appearance, stuck his thumb in his mouth and smiled.
While Nathan and Poppy struggled up, Brewster had knocked off the baron’s hat and grabbed his hair in a large red clump, much as the baron had tried to grab Poppy. The balloon bounced a little from the ground and rose a few feet into the air, with the baron, grasped by falling tufts of his hair, his forehead stretched in horror, was lifted, feet kicking into nothing.
The balloon managed a neat turn and rose higher with the baron swinging, his arms frantically reaching, his face swollen and puce, and his voice almost suffocated in his throat and just managing some desperate squeaks.
With another cackle, Brewster let him go and the baron landed, toppling and tumbling, into a whimpering heap as he cradled his head, rubbing at the place where now much of his hair had been ripped out.
The two strong men took one look and fled. Edmund collapsed backwards and begged shrilly for mercy.
Realising that it was the baron who had been attacked, and not themselves, Alfie, Alice and John hurried forwards. “Is that a balloon? Is you Nathan’s friend? Are you the wizard he told us about?”
Brewster Hazlett stood in the swinging basket, waving both long thin arms as though conducting an orchestra. Laughing and bowing, he looked down on the small crowd staring up at him. “John Ten-Toes,” he pointed, “your father has searched twelve long years for you.” Cackling, he pointed at Alfie. “You will become a warrior, and a hero of the most unjust battle of the century.” Pointing again, “The grand Lady Alice, you know your fate, though not all of it.” Then with a mock bow to Peter, “From wizard to wizard, my friend,” and as Peter stared, added, “I make no magic. I simply do what you do not understand. But you, Peter Speckson, you’ll make magic with lute and song.”
The silence around the balloon was so complete, no one could even hear the calls of the boatmen nearby, the rush of the river waters, the splash of the oars or the bump of the boats.
“And me?” whispered Poppy with a hiccup.
The narrow gleaming top hat had slipped over Hazlett’s eyes, resting on the thin twist of his nose. No hair showed beneath the hat, but his eyes gleamed out like torches from the brim’s shadow. He licked his thin lips, and his tongue suddenly appeared forked. With a slurp he sucked his tongue back into its place, and cackled again. With a smile as wide as his mouth permitted, he pointed at Poppy. His fingernails curled, turning to claws. “You, child of Octobr, wings of a dove, have a destiny I cannot and will not tell.”
Poppy stared back at him. “Wings?” Her hiccups had increased. “I’m going to be a pilot?”
But Brewster had turned to Nathan. “Sporrans and spangles. Porridge and parsley. Cobwebs and cowslips. Sorcery and snap, snap, snap.”
“You told Poppy October,” Nathan said, accusing and defiant. “October with an ‘e’ or without an ‘e’? And snap for snakes? Or is it some silly game you and Wagster play?”
As the balloon bobbed close to the ground, the sky’s cloud cover had closed and was now so dark, it seemed like night-time Everyone began to move closer together, staring at the tall thin man, all black below the brilliance of his balloon. Brewster lay back now, his clawed hands clasped behind his head, the tall hat even further down over his eyes and balancing on the bridge of his nose. One leg swung out over the top of the basket ledge. His clothes were tight and gleaming black, but the one tapping shoe was bright gold, as though polished metal.
“Well now, Bumble-Bee Head,” he cackled at Nathan, “October with an ‘e’ would make no sense at all, would it now! But snap is another matter. Snap goes the weasel. Snap goes the Granny clock. Snap go the jaws of the crocadillo, when it finds its dinner.”
Shaking his head, Nathan sighed. “You make no sense. I give up. Or have you finally come to take me home?”
Brewster unwound. Suddenly, he stood so tall that he towered like a great black stick, golden feet in the balloon’s basket but the top of his hat up into the balloon’s rigging. “Now, which home would that be, Bumble-Bee Head?” he demanded, and reaching out like the strike of a serpent, he grabbed both Nathan’s wrists.
Hauled to the basket, Nathan yelled, “Let me go,” but was dragged closer. Then the balloon began to rise. Brewster’s grip on Nathan’s wrists was iron tight and did not slip. Kicking wildly, Nathan tried to free himself, but was drawn gradually upwards. Poppy raced forwards, attempting to grab Nathan’s feet, but they were just above her reach. Then Alfie, the tallest, ran to help, but by now Nathan’s kicking legs were up into the murk of the lower clouds.
It began to rain with a steady cold sleet, falling straight down without wind. Now the balloon was barely a flicker of colour high above, and Nathan looked like a squirming beetle, disappearing into the clouds.
Those below were left staring, although in desperation Poppy ran from Addle Hill into Thames Street, waving and shouting as the rain pelted down over her. Both Edmund and the baron had crept away, and now Alice, Alfie, John and Peter all followed Poppy, trying to reassure her. Peter was skipping through the puddles, but the others were shocked and frightened.
“Did that terrible apparition come to help or to destroy?” whispered Alice.
“Sent the pig-baron running.”
“But Nathan?”
Poppy had burst into tears.
Nathan saw none of this, swept ever upwards, the balloon sped through the ice chill of the rain clouds, as gradually Brewster hauled him, hand over hand, into the safety of the little basket. Nathan toppled in as though he had expected never to feel safe again, but he was entirely out of breath.
It was some time before he gulped, managed a deep gasp, and said, “You can’t take me home and leave Poppy there.”
“Can’t?” demanded Brewster with menace. “I shall do whatever I wish, Bumble-Bee Head.”
Trying to make sense of it all, Nathan asked, “So will Wagster bring Poppy home, since that’s who brought her out?”
“Wagster?” Brewster forced his head so close to Nathan’s, that the brim of his hat cut into Nathan’s forehead, and he could see the wizard’s eyes like little threatening fires. Hissing like the snake himself, Brewster said, Never say that name. Never speak of him. Never speak to him. And remember Snap go the dragon’s toes. And snap go his teeth.”
Nathan recoiled, whispering, “Where are you taking me?”
Brewster paused. Then he sat back again, as though happy to begin a holiday. “It’s not a long journey, and you’ll not stay long either, Bumble-Bee Head. But you’ll see what I let you see and you’ll discover what I let you discover.
“Lashtang Tower, dark as night with no moon,
Lashtang Palace, blazing with flame.
One whispers soft the Hazlett name,
The other roars. Both hide your tomb.
Come taste the flames, come taste the ice.
Nightmare beckons, dreams of death.
Enter. Now breathe your final breath.
Peace at last, but Lashtang claims the price.”
Nathan felt his stomach lurch as though the ice, rain, clouds and winds had all blown straight through him. “Lashtang?” he asked.
Brewster was chuckling with a throaty gargle, but he did not answer. They were flying above the rain, although great mists engulfed the balloon, and there was nothing to be seen looking up, or down, or out beyond. No horizon cut through the thick white haze. It was cold, and Nathan pulled his short cape around his shoulders, curling up tight in the basket with his head poking over the edge, hoping to see what was coming. But no landscape was stretched below and no sound permeated the mist.
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