Snap

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  In the circular entrance hall, the mosaic patterns on the tiled floor shone. Everyone trooped to the arrow that pointed towards the curtain of colours.

  “Who leads?” whispered Nathan.

  “You, my dear,” Granny told him, “and I shall bring up the rear.”

  “And I,” announced Hermes, “shall walk beside my Lord of Clarr, and protect him from all dangers.”

  It was a longer corridor than Nathan had expected, winding so frequently that it seemed to him that they might be going in circles. Sometimes there were windows, but each was black, as though shuttered, or closed against the night and the wind. Having an idea that they were locked against him, Nathan once again wished he had the secret of the Key of Clarr, but clutched his knife tight, knowing he had the most magical gift of all.

  He had asked the key to show him his parents, and although it had taken both time and danger, the knife had done exactly as he had asked. And, with incredible power, it had released his grandmother and trapped the terrible Yaark in the ice.

  But there was very little Nathan yet understood about the knife, and some things it seemed unable, or unwilling to do.

  His thoughts were interrupted. “My lord, here is the veil,” Hermes said, stopping before the opening and the dazzling curtain beyond. “We have arrived. Command me, lord, and I shall do as you wish.”

  Nathan was certainly not accustomed to giving orders. He looked back to his grandmother, her hand in Poppy’s, as they hurried to catch up. She came to Nathan, a little out of breath. “It seems we have to part again, my dear,” she said and looked around. Everyone had crowded close. “Walk straight through there,” she said, pointing. “Think only of where you wish to go. Think of your homes, your towns and cities, your families and your friends. You’ll find yourselves right back at home.”

  “And how do I get back to you later from 15th century London?” asked Nathan.

  “Don’t you worry about that, my dear,” Granny told him. “I’m sure Hermes will bring you when you’re ready.”

  “I’ll miss you.” He looked down. “And Poppy.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be away long, Nathan dear,” answered Granny. “I’ll put the kettle on. Poppy, Ferdinand and I will be waiting. There’s a lot to do once you come home.”

  She stepped back and the others moved forwards. The veil was translucent, and in constant movement. It appeared to be fashioned from dragonfly wings, but every dragonfly lived and fluttered, spinning, hovering and flying in bewitching patterns. Every wing seemed different and every flight individual. Some were magnificent, huge and glittering, others small, hesitant and luminescent. Nathan moved closer and stretched out his hand. The veil parted. He could not feel the touch of wing, antennae or flight, but each creature flew aside, and the way through was opened in blazing light. The sky made its own tunnel of sunshine. And as they passed, so then the veil closed behind them.

  Nathan rested his hand on the goose’s neck, where Hermes’ feathers were short and soft. “I’m thinking of London,” he muttered to himself. “Medieval London and the cobbled streets and all those old buildings.”

  He found, almost without intention, that he had shut his eyes. He had felt, rather than seen, all the others crowding around him and the warmth of their hands, their whispers of excitement, and their hesitant steps. But then, when he opened his eyes again, he was all alone except for Hermes, standing in Bandy Alley and staring up at the ancient walls of the Tower.

  “From the Tower of Clarr to the Tower of London,” he muttered. And stood still, staring. This was where Brewster had dropped him, long before, and where he had lived in the now burned out cellar. The ironmonger’s shop where they had all stayed after the fire, was still open and looked busy. Nathan decided not to go there. He wanted to hurry off to Bishopsgate and Alice’s house, where he knew all the others would be.

  A fine drizzle had turned the chilly air to a steel grey, and although it was light, it seemed to soak through and he began to shiver. But it wasn’t a long walk, and with a nod to Hermes, he pulled his cape tight around him and set off at a quick pace. Then, as he turned the top end of Bandy Alley where the Tower rose dark to his right, he had to dodge aside to the wall, avoiding the long parade of riders and their prancing and highly decorated horses approaching the drawbridge and portcullis.

  The shining bridles jingled, and the horses’ hooves clattered on the wet cobbles, their ears alert and their manes twitching in the rain. The riders were grandly dressed and seemed unconcerned with the drizzle, though some had raised the hoods of their cloaks. One man, who rode near the front of the procession, turned to call to someone behind, and immediately Nathan recognised the bright face and the deep brown eyes, light brown hair, and air of regal command.

  Smiling to himself, Nathan bowed, for it was King Richard, who had spoken to him once before. But then, as he looked up, Nathan was shocked to recognise two other faces. At the very end rode the baron and his brother Edmund. Their bright red hair was wet and plastered in dripping streaks to their heads, and they bumped, both a little too fat for their saddles, as their horses clomped over the cobbles.

  About to step further back into the shadows, Nathan was even more surprised when his majesty the king, turning again, noticed Nathan standing bareheaded in the rain. He paused, then beckoned, and sat waiting until Nathan walked quickly towards him, bowed as low as he dared without putting his knee to the slippery wet road, and tried to shake the rain from his hair.

  King Richard laughed. “I see you have bought a goose,” he said, smiling. “Was that with the money I gave you? But one goose will not make you a living, nor buy even a cape with a hood to keep that sun-kissed hair of yours dry.”

  Nathan could hardly reply that the goose was a friend, and certainly not for sale. Instead he stuttered, saying, “Your majesty, I am honoured. I was, that is, intending to look for an – apprenticeship. As a – tailor.”

  “An excellent ambition, young man,” the king said, “come to the palace once the training has begun, and I’ll give you work.” He turned again, facing the outer walls of the Tower, and rode on across the moat and its murky grey ripples, the flat waters busy with the cascade of rebounding raindrops.

  As Nathan stood back, he realised that the baron and his brother, peering in blatant fury, had both seen and recognised him. Waiting until the cavalcade had passed into the Tower, and disappeared within the great walls, both men, looking down from their saddles, came to Nathan, blocking him as they edged one either side. Nathan was squashed between the two horses, their flanks and the nervous swish of their wet tails enclosing him so he could hardly move.

  “You,” spat the baron between gritted teeth, “ever since the first time I saw you, you’ve brought only trouble. You’ve spoiled every plan I had, you’ve ruined everything. Without you, you nasty little thief, Edmund would have been married to Alice Parry by now, and we’d all be living the high life in Bishopsgate.”

  “And,” snarled Edmund, “somehow you put out the fire.”

  Nathan looked up angrily. “So you admit paying someone to light that fire. That’s disgusting. You could have killed a hundred people and burned that beautiful house to the ground. I’ll tell the judge.”

  “As if anyone would believe you,” hissed Edmund.

  “I could tell the king.”

  “You’ll be dead before you can open your mouth to his majesty or anyone else,” roared the Baron, and snatching up his riding crop, he lashed out at Nathan standing, barely breathing, below. The crop was woven leather, and it slashed across his cheek with a pain so violent, that Nathan would have fallen had he not been held upright by the horses. Again the baron lashed out with his riding crop, but the end of it caught one horse’s neck, and it reared, neighing and frightened.

  Freed, Nathan ran. But he could not outrun two horses. “Come here, you scum,” roared Edmund.

  The great Tower doors were still open, and Nathan made one mad dash for the drawbridge. The baron, he
thought, could not attack him with everyone watching, and he managed to scramble beneath the portcullis and into the great courtyard beyond. Both Edmund and the baron thundered after him, and Nathan could also feel the draught of the goose feathers over his head and knew that Hermes was with him too. This was some consolation, and he knew he had a loyal and faithful friend, but he didn’t see how a goose could battle against two murderous men with riding whips, and two huge horses with hooves like anvils.

  The white-washed Keep rose enormous before him, its battlements in the low rain clouds. Clearly the king and his entourage had already entered, climbing the exterior steps to the Royal Apartments within the Keep, and their horses were being led away by the Tower grooms. Nathan whirled around, looking for guards or anyone who might help him. Hermes now stood beside him, neck stretched and head held high, but this seemed to confuse anyone watching, who appeared to think he might be a servant, come to deliver a goose to the kitchens. The guards patrolled the walls, but they took no notice of Nathan and the grooms and stable boys were too busy with the lords’ horses.

  Then Edmund and the baron were on him again. The Baron raised his crop, and Edmund slashed out with his whip, which caught Nathan around one arm, making him stumble. He straightened immediately, now extremely angry and he did the first thing that came into his head. He lifted the Knife of Clarr from his pocket, held it up into the drizzle, and as its light grew strong like a swirling golden sheen, he called, “Brewster Hazlett, you owe me a favour. Come now and rid me of the two wicked men who want me dead.”

  The Baron paused, surprised to see the knife and its luminous light, but then he raised his riding crop once more. “You think to use a knife on me, you vile urchin?” he shrieked. His hair was now like red straw in his eyes, and the eyes themselves were bloodshot. Edmund, close behind, rode his horse directly at Nathan.

  But Hermes spread his wings, rose up, and pecked, hissing and squawking, at both Edmund and the horse. With a snort of panic the horse reared again, throwing its rider from its back. Edmund lost saddle, stirrups and whip, and came crashing down onto the wet paving of the Tower courtyard.

  Nathan fled. All around him the winding alleys ran between the huge stone buildings, on from the Gatehouse, past the great keep and dodging, one eye over his shoulder, managed to find those places where shadowed passage was too narrow for two screeching fat men and one terrified horse. But Nathan heard them behind him, and kept running.

  All too quickly he raced out once more onto open ground and unless he could enter the Keep itself, which was well guarded, he did not see where he could go. Edmund, on foot with his hose wrinkled and soaked, had managed to keep hold of his whip and was lumbering towards Nathan from one side. The whip cracked. On the other side was the baron, still astride his horse, his crop in his hand and his mouth wide open in a shout of rage.

  And then, sweeping down from the sky, were two long thin black shadows, seated on something equally long, thin and black, whizzing in ever tightening circles. One of the swirling shadows wore a tall top hat. The other wore a small golden cap, its peak decorated with a scarlet tassel. They were, to Nathan’s confusion, riding broomsticks.

  The baron fell off his horse and the mare bolted. Two guards rushed after the horse, but no one was prepared to help the men, for clearly they were being attacked by witches, and not even the guards were prepared to face black magic. Both the baron and his brother stood, knees trembling, and watched, growing both dizzy and terrified, as the strange apparition encircled them. Brewster and Wagster were cackling and wheezing, enjoying themselves, and manoeuvring their brooms down, around, between, and finally up again. Knees tight to the sticks they rode, the Hazlett twins flew faster and faster.

  Inspired, Hermes rose up again, large flat feet waving in the breezes from the wizards, squawked into the baron’s face, pecked at Edmund, and dived down at both, one after the other. Clearly delighted with his own speed, it was some time before Hermes settled.

  Brewster waved at Nathan, calling, “Well, Bumble-Bee Head, I always pay my debts and here I am, with Wagster to help.” Then, broomstick parallel to the ground, he hovered just above Nathan’s head. “What shall we do with these fat lumps? Drown them in the moat? Tie them up with their own belts? Strangle them with their own soggy hose?”

  “I don’t know,” Nathan gasped, completely out of breath, “but thank you for coming. Now you’ve rescued me so it’s a rescue in exchange for a rescue.”

  Cackling and waving his golden cap in the air, Brewster was practising aerobatics, spinning his broom in somersaults and, end over end, coming back to the baron and his brother Edmund. He reached over, pulling their hair, kicking them in the back of their necks with his little golden boots, then soaring up again with a cheer of exhilaration.

  Wagster pointed down fiercely at Nathan. “Make your decision,” he called, his claws unsheathed. “I come only to help my brother pay his debt. Where do we take these two fat imbecile humans? Quick, or I leave.”

  The answer came suddenly and without any doubt, Nathan immediately knew what he had to do. He stood firm and called back to both Brewster and Wagster. “Take them to Lashtang,” he said, “and then to the Tower of Clarr. And although I will stand here, and not there, I will order my knife to do exactly as I wish. Take them to the chamber of frozen ice walls. Then leave. You will be free, debt paid.”

  With a whoop of delight, both twins aimed directly down at Edmund and the baron, grabbed them by their bright ginger hair, and with a grip like iron, carried them up into the sky. Nathan watched as the figures became smaller and smaller, the two fat men struggling, their legs kicking out wildly, screaming until their voices were hoarse. As they all disappeared behind the clouds, the drizzle a silver mist, Nathan could still hear Brewster cackle, and Wagster swear.

  Nathan turned, and without looking at anyone, nor meeting any of the horrified and shocked eyes of those watching, he walked silently to the Tower gatehouse, crossed the drawbridge, and hurried into the shadows of Bandy Alley’s wet cobbles. There he stood, catching his breath and smiling to himself. Once more he held up the Knife of Clarr and it seemed that the shadows fled.

  “I am Lord of Clarr and the holder of the Knife of Clarr,” Nathan said speaking loudly and clearly. “I therefore order that the two humans about to arrive in the Tower of Clarr, be taken to the chamber of ice. There they will be exchanged and taken into the wall in place of their Majesties, the Octobr Sovereigns. The king and queen will be free of the ice wall, and their places will be taken by Hugh Darling, Baron Cambridge and his brother Edmund Darling, who will be kept there until their eventual release.”

  He felt it. There was a click, as if the words had been heard and accepted, and he knew, as he had never known before, that his wishes would be followed exactly.

  With a satisfied smile, Nathan turned north and began to walk towards Bishopsgate. Beside him walked the large and proud white goose, flat feet slapping on the wet cobbles, his wings tight folded against the rain, but his great golden beak held high.

  The rain stopped and the sun came out, shining its light in the reflections of the puddles. Then, as brilliant as the sunshine and as iridescent as a dragonfly’s wing, a rainbow arched over the roadway, its vivid foundation firmly descending within the roof of the large house in Bishopsgate where Nathan was heading.

  It was sometime that Nathan did not stop smiling.

  Chapter Thirty

  It was Mouse who saw him first.

  She raced down the main staircase like a wild tangle of streaky fluff, and behind her, jumping and bumping down step to step on minute legs not long enough to walk, came the three tiny kittens, one white, one black and one grey.

  Then Mouse saw Hermes, and stopped, with a squeak. The kittens fell over backwards.

  Hermes raised and outstretched both wings, lowered his head, thrust forward his beak and hissed, waddling full pelt towards the cat. “Begone, predator,” Hermes squawked. As Mouse pelted back to a position of stre
ngth halfway up the stairs, glared down, she hissed back with a warning yowl.

  “Oh dear,” sighed Nathan. “Life is never simple.”

  By now everyone else had appeared, leaping the steps and bombarding Nathan with questions. Sam, with a sudden grin, hugged first Nathan, which he really wasn’t used to, and then Mouse, who was exceedingly used to it, cuddled up and purred with a gaze of smug satisfaction at the goose.

  They sat in the main hall, draped over chairs and settles, Sam, the kittens and Mouse on a cushion on the floor, and Hermes guarding the door. Peter plugged his thumb back into his mouth and sat on one of the wide window seats. Spots of rain still slithered down the windows, but the drizzle had stopped and the sun was a sparkling reflection throughout the city.

  “A natural mistake,” Nathan said. “I came through the veil straight into Bandy Alley. I was thinking of the old house, I suppose. But as it happens, it was a lucky mistake.”

  They demanded to know how.

  “Well,” said Nathan, pleased with himself, “I don’t think you’ll be having any trouble from that horrible baron and his revolting brother in the future.”

  They all leaned forwards. “What did you do?” asked Alice and Alfie at the same moment.

  “Sent them to Lashtang,” said Nathan with a grin, and watched the open-mouthed astonishment with pride. “I’ll explain later. But it’s true. They’ve gone. And,” with another grin, “I met the king again. He actually remembered who I was.”

  “O’course,” John sniggered, “You’re the Lord of Clarr.”

  Shaking his head, Nathan lay back in the deep cushioned chair. “Doesn’t seem real, does it. So strange – so crazy – and so exciting.”