The Tigers in the Tower

by Julia Golding

  A raised voice echoed in the shop. A flutter of expectation ran through the caged animals. The bear roused, went up on his back feet, and growled. The monkey shrieked. Birds squawked and bashed against bars. The mountain lion snarled.

  “What are you doing, Tolly, you nincompoop? Letting Cops’s Indian girl into our shop!” roared a man who had to be Mr Jamrach himself.

  Sahira couldn’t make out Tolly’s reply but it had to be some kind of excuse. Was there a back exit?

  “Nonsense, she doesn’t have anything to sell us. He’s sent her to spy on us. I’ll soon send her on her way with a flea in her ear! Where is she?”

  Cornered in the yard between cages and bear, Sahira had no choice but stand her ground. She turned to face the door as Mr Jamrach stormed out into the yard.

  “Right.” He pushed up his sleeves. “I’ll show you how Jamrach treats spies!”

  PART 4

  INVISIBLE WORM

  CHAPTER 14

  Sahira backed away, more scared of an irate Jamrach than the gloomy bear. “I’m not a spy!” she exclaimed.

  “Likely story. Get away from Bruno.” He grabbed a broom.

  “Not while you’re threatening me.” She tried to judge the length of chain and reach of paw. Bruno lurched forward, testing both. Fortunately he was aiming for Jamrach, not her, because Sahira was well within striking range. She skittered sideways into the far corner. Now the bear acted as a barrier between her and the irate shopkeeper. Jamrach couldn’t reach her even with the broom without getting within the bear’s range.

  Jamrach must have worked out the same thing himself. He stood with the broom held like a pike in front of him. “You can’t stay there all day, girl.”

  “I can give it a good try,” she retorted.

  “You’ve got a hiding coming your way.” He raised the broom.

  “And that’s supposed to tempt me out?”

  His bushy red whiskers twitched. “I’ll strike a bargain with you. I’ll let you pass if you tell me what Cops wants with me now.”

  “I don’t know. I came here on my own,” she admitted.

  “Don’t believe you. I’m not selling him any more creatures. He’ll have to keep that menagerie of his open without any more help from me. You tell him that. But first, you need to be taught a lesson about spying!”

  Sahira thought quickly. There was only one way she knew to deter a dangerous man from a violent course of action. “Will you lay your weapon aside, sir, if I prove that I can tell you the tale of each and every animal you have in your shop?”

  “What foolishness is this?” This didn’t stop him but it did put a hitch in his stride.

  “Not foolishness. I can tell you how Ali al-Zaibaq turned into a bear, just like that one there. And how the carpenter tricked the lion cub into a cage, which must be how she got to be in one so small.” Sahira pointed to the mountain lion pacing overhead. “Not to mention Abu Muhammad the Sluggard and his monkey who earned him a fortune.” The macaque looked unimpressed but Jamrach was listening.

  “Earned him a fortune, eh?” He still hadn’t put down the broom but at least now it was at parade rest rather than pointing at her. The bear shuffled back into his normal spot by the wall. “A teller of tales, are you? Then you can tell Cops he has to leave me alone. I can’t afford the powerful enemies he’s making. If they decide I can’t keep shop here, then I’m ruined – and they could do that as easy as…” He snapped his fingers.

  If the enemy in question was the Duke of Wellington, then he was right. The Prime Minister could invent some excuse like public safety and Jamrach would be forced out of business. “Don’t worry, Mr Jamrach, Mr Cops doesn’t need you. He’s got my animals now – my tigers.” Sahira started to edge out of the corner, hoping the bear and the shopkeeper had both given up on their more militant mood.

  “Your animals?” He picked up the broom again.

  She bobbed a curtsey. “I’m Captain Clive’s daughter.”

  “So that’s who you are! When I heard Cops had a new assistant, I wondered where she came from. I thought the circus, maybe, when you started on your marvellous tales.” His brow wrinkled as he remembered the rest of the news. “I’m sorry about your father. He was a good man. Reliable.”

  “Yes, he was. And he taught me the same skills. I’m going to collect animals when I’m older,” said Sahira.

  Jamrach chuckled and returned the broom to its place against the wall. “You are, are you?”

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained. “Will you buy from me if I enter the business? In a few years’ time, I mean?”

  He gave the small girl a mocking look. “Oh yes: I’ll buy any exotic animals you collect, titch.”

  “That’s a deal,” she replied.

  Doubt flickered across his face. He realized she was serious. “Only if they are in good condition, mind. And they’ve got to be rare. No more blooming parrots.”

  “No parrots, good condition, rare: got it. Now may I go?” she asked.

  He bowed and let her pass. “Why do I think I might regret this morning’s work?”

  “Oh you won’t regret it, sir. I promise,” she said brightly.

  “Oh, by the way, you mentioned tigers,” he called after her.

  “What of them?” She turned back to face him.

  “Just, I’ve a very special order from a good client. He wants that pair and will pay well. Tell Cops that.”

  “What does your customer want them for?” she asked warily.

  “Never you mind. Can I trust you with the message?” he continued.

  Sahira nodded stiffly. She would do it, but he hadn’t put a time on when she had to pass on the message.

  “Then run along before I change my mind about that hiding,” Jamrach waved her off.

  Holding the hope in her heart that she might one day earn her own living pursuing her father’s profession, Sahira said goodbye to Tolly in her passage through the shop and returned to the streets in a happier frame of mind. She had a place to go to now too: the morning was wearing away so the menagerie was expecting her. No one at the orphanage would be looking for her – who would care if she disappeared into the city? If she could only fool Mr Cops and the other keepers that she was still returning there each night, then this pleasant state of affairs could continue indefinitely. Life in London would finally be bearable.

  As long as she found a place to spend the night.

  She decided she would spend it with family.

  That evening, as the time came for her to leave for the day, Sahira made a great show of bidding farewell to friends among the animals as well as the keepers.

  “Give my regards to Cook!” said Ned cheekily as he led the zebra to his stable.

  “Will do – when I next see her,” replied Sahira. “Goodnight, Ben, goodnight, Mike.”

  With everyone busy settling down for the night, Sahira crept into the area next to the tigers where the fresh straw was stored. Rama got up, stretched his back legs, and came to inspect her.

  “Don’t mind me,” she whispered, burrowing into the heap. She knew Mr Cops did a final round to check all was well just before bedtime.

  Rama found nothing worrisome about a cub making a nest for herself so he settled back next to Sita. How he must be fretting with no place to run or hunt, thought Sahira regretfully. He was trapped – and she, for the first time since arriving, felt free.

  “I’ll sort out something better for you, I promise,” she murmured. Would the zoological gardens be better than this? she wondered. “Gardens” sounded hopeful. The very first animals lived in the Garden of Eden, didn’t they? She’d always imagined that as a vast place, as big as a country, so they could all fit inside. Rama would prefer a forest but in its absence that might do.

  Sahira was dozing when she heard the squeak of Mr Cops’ lantern swinging on its ring.

  “How do, beasties,” he said softly. “All well, eh?” He held the light up to each cage. Sahira didn’t dare breathe. “You all right,
George?” he asked the newly promoted lion. “How do you fancy the name William again? Seems like we’re getting a new king soon.” He walked onward to the tigers. Sahira had an awful moment when she feared he might step on her but his boots stopped an inch from her toes. She peered through stalks of straw at him, hoping – praying – he wouldn’t glance down. “Looking after her, are you, Rama?”

  The tiger had raised his head from his mate’s side and was watching Mr Cops with his fathomless stare.

  Sahira held very still.

  “She’s a good girl, isn’t she? Full of life – too much for her own good, I dare say.”

  Rama opened his jaws, displaying sharp white canines.

  “I’m glad you agree. Shame she had to stay at that awful place, ain’t it? Not right for one like her. That snake will find a way of making her life as miserable as possible, bleeding hypocrite,” Mr Cops said angrily.

  He wasn’t talking about Sita but about her!

  Mr Cops leaned companionably on the stout staff he carried, used for parting argumentative animals. “I’d like to let you have a go at him, but that wouldn’t end well, would it? They’d have the troops out in a jiffy for a London tiger hunt. The duke would like that, having served in India and all. Have us shut down before the ink was dry on the order.”

  Rama sneezed. Mr Cops took that for agreement. “Well then, I’ll leave you and your lovely lady to sleep. Sorry you missed your turn in the yard today. I’ll see what I can do tomorrow. Sleep tight.”

  The door slammed and the key turned, locking them in for the night.

  With a sigh of relief, Sahira emerged from her hiding place. She was touched that Mr Cops spared her a thought in her absence. Her father would have liked Mr Cops, she decided. For once that didn’t make her feel sad. With Rama and Sita’s comforting presence, she could think of her parents without being overwhelmed by grief.

  Sahira’s stomach rumbled. She’d stolen some sunflower seeds from the birds – that would have to do for supper.

  Sita got up. She was restless. Tigers were more active at night than during the day so it was the hour when the tigers would most resent their confinement, particularly after having been cooped up without a run in the yard. Sahira looked at the door that gave on to the only open space the tigers were allowed to go in. Dare she? There was no one to see. Mr Cops should be tucked up in bed by now, the other keepers in their quarters. It was only fair that the tigers get as much freedom as she could possibly grant them.

  Her decision was made even before she really knew it. Going to the outer gate, she opened it. It creaked horribly on its hinges. Heart in her mouth, she paused, but there was no shout of alarm. Everyone was out of earshot. The tigers were both standing expectantly by their gate. The exit for the tigers was lifted from inside the keepers’ area. Sahira tried to raise the grate to allow them into a short tunnel to the outside. It proved heavier than she expected. Two keepers normally did this.

  Rama paced fretfully, irritated by the delay.

  “Sorry, sorry,” Sahira murmured as the gate slid back down again. She looked around for something to help her and saw a spade. Her dad, a scientifically minded man, had told her of the advantage of a lever. If she could wedge that under the gate and push the other side off a fulcrum, then maybe she could lift this on her own like lifting a heavier child on a seesaw. What could she use as a fulcrum? She found a small water barrel that would do the trick. The tigers watched with interest as she set about testing her theory. She had a few false starts as the spade or the barrel refused to cooperate, but finally she succeeded in lifting the gate. Rama and Sita streaked through as if sensing she couldn’t hold it long. As soon as the tops of their tails were clear, she let it slide back down.

  And how exactly are you going to get them back in? Sahira asked herself.

  Too late now for regrets. She postponed worrying about that until later.

  The moon was out. The tigers chased each other in circles around the small crescent-shaped yard. The other animals raised an envious rumble. George Junior gave his lion cough – a carrying sound – and the tigers roared a challenge. Sahira thought it might have been a taunt.

  “Please, don’t summon the keeper,” she murmured.

  But, of course, her plea had no more effect than a drop of water on a forest fire. Fortunately, Sita and Rama were too caught up in their play to worry about the caged lion. They were now tumbling each other, pretending to fight but claws remained sheathed. Sahira wished she could join them but knew better than to be lured into a belief that she was in any way welcome. She was human – she would die from one play-fight like that. Instead she climbed up an internal stair to the bridge that spanned the enclosure. Usually the public stood here to marvel at the creatures exercising in the yard. Many a bonnet and glove had been dropped here accidentally on purpose just to see what the animals would do with them (destroy them was the obvious answer). Sahira sat with her legs dangling over the drop. If Rama really wanted, she supposed he could leap and catch a blue boot in his jaw, but he ignored her. Which was as it should be, she told herself. In the tigers’ lives she was a servant, like the humblest handmaiden to the Nizam and his favourite wife. She was allowed to admire and feel the privilege of her position.

  With a full moon overhead, the tigers were transformed. Dulled down were their orange stripes, but their white fur shone silver and their black so deep that they seemed to have taken the night into themselves. With a little imagination, Sahira could supply the forest canopy, the lake choked with lotus blossoms, the scent of night blooms on the air. The barred entrances to the cages became caverns, the bridge a fallen trunk across a ravine, the cries of distant streets the murmur of a waterfall. They were home! She stood up and lifted her hands to the sky, to pluck down the moon itself. The tigers paused beneath her, heads raised to the stars, and roared.

  “What’s that?” A male voice came from over the wall.

  “It’s them wild animals,” replied a second. “Loud tonight though. Lord, we’d better hope they’ve not escaped.” He laughed, signalling he wasn’t really worried.

  Not keepers, Sahira realized. These were soldiers returning late to their barracks in the Tower.

  “Don’t know how you can sleep with them so close. Keeps me awake it does,” the first soldier countered.

  “You get used to it in a week or two. Besides, it won’t be for long now. The duke’s got plans for this area. It’s to be our new parade ground,” the other said.

  Their voices were fading. “And the animals?” asked the new recruit.

  The old soldier chuckled. “Well, they won’t be on parade with us, will they?”

  CHAPTER 15

  Despite Sahira’s best efforts, Rama and Sita refused to return to their cage. She couldn’t both hold up the gate and coax them in so gave in to the inevitable, leaving the tigers at play as dawn broke. Time was running out. She waited by the gate where the food for the animals was delivered and sneaked out as the first cart was unloaded, immediately losing herself in the crowds on the wharf. She hoped none of her friends would get the blame, but then, Mr Cops had seen them in their pen late at night so would know that it hadn’t been negligence on the part of the keepers shutting up for the evening.

  Would his suspicions turn to her?

  He’d seen her “leave” and besides, the gate was too heavy for a girl, wasn’t it? Mr Cops did not look the sort to think much about levers.

  “Sahira! What on earth are you doing ’ere?” Sahira jumped, taken completely by surprise. Ned had found her. She’d foolishly strayed near the baker’s stall, enticed by the smell of bread she couldn’t afford, and not realized that Ned would be sent out to fetch the fresh loaves for the keepers’ breakfast. Of course, that was exactly the kind of errand they would give their youngest recruit.

  “I’m… er… taking in the sights of London,” she said lamely. “Got the morning off.”

  He put his hands on his hips and scowled. Though he was an inch shorter, h
e still somehow gave the impression he was looking down his snub nose at her. “You’re bamming me.”

  “Bamming you?”

  “Telling porkies, trying to pull the wool over me eyes, straight up lying!” He was angry now. “I thought we were friends?”

  “We are.” If she lost him, she’d be down to just a couple of tigers as the only ones on her side.

  “Then tell me the truth. Why are you ’ere so early?” His eyes shone with sudden realization. “It were you, weren’t it? You let Sita and Rama out! Were you trying to ’elp them escape?”

  That guess was so wild she had to laugh. “No. There’s no escape for us, not really.” Sadness roosted in her heart.

  “But it were you? Mr Cops thinks ’e’s going mad, thinks he forgot to shut them away or somethink.”

  Sahira folded her arms across her chest. She was cold. Did this country never warm up properly? “It was me. I spent the night in the menagerie last night.”

  “Cor.” His brow furrowed. “But why? What about Mr Pence?”

  Sahira was surprised to find tears prick her eyes as she recalled Emily and Ann’s betrayal. She’d been trying hard not to think about that. “I…” The words got stuck.

  “Sahira, are you… are you crying?” Ned sounded shocked.