The Cat's Eye Shell

by Kate Forsyth

  Nat threw him backwards, and scrambled up again, drawing his pistol.

  ‘Nat! No!’

  But even as the duke cried out in horror, Nat cocked his pistol and fired. Tom cried out and fell backwards, hitting the water with a great splash.

  ‘Tom!’ Luka cried and dived overboard, first sweeping Zizi off his shoulder with one hand. She had never been treated so roughly, and shrieked with terror, clinging to the bulwark with her tiny paws and looking everywhere for her master.

  Emilia flung herself forward, searching the fast-moving black water with desperate eyes. ‘Luka? Tom?’ she sobbed.

  Zizi leapt into her arms, gibbering anxiously, and Emilia cradled her close, sick with fear. There was no sign of the boys.

  On the other boat, Nat had levelled his pistol at the duke. ‘Get up into the ship,’ he ordered, breathing heavily.

  ‘Nat!’ the duke exclaimed, his face white with shock and horror.

  ‘Climb up into the ship, else I’ll shoot!’

  The duke glanced round him in desperation. The oarsman stood up too, reaching for the pistol in his belt.

  Suddenly there was a loud explosion and a flash of fire. Nat jerked, cried aloud, and fell forward. At once the duke dived over the side. In a few swift strokes he was beside Milosh’s boat. A trembling and astounded priest, his hands and face blackened with smoke, dropped the pistol and bent to heave the duke aboard. At once Milosh dipped in his oar and sent the boat skimming away into the pre-dawn darkness. Bullets sprayed up water on either side, and splintered the boat as the oarsman behind them fired after them.

  ‘Luka! Tom!’ Emilia cried in despair.

  ‘The tide will have carried them this way,’ Milosh whispered. ‘Now hush! They’ll be after us in a moment.’

  The ship was indeed alive with the sound of shouting and running feet and the sudden kindling of lanterns. They heard a great roar and then the whizz of a cannonball flying overhead. It crashed into the water behind them.

  Desperately Emilia scanned the dark water looking for any sign of the boys. Zizi clung to her, frightened and bewildered, and Rollo cowered in the bottom of the boat, not liking the dreadful sound of the cannons that boomed behind them. The boat slid silently over the fast-running water, mist curling over its prow.

  Joy suddenly filled Emilia like a warm golden light. She turned her face to Milosh, waving and pointing. He nodded and altered the boat’s course. Within seconds they were drawing up beside the two heads bobbing in the water. Luka was dogpaddling furiously, Tom lying unconscious in his arms. He looked up at them and opened his mouth to speak, but Milosh silenced him with a gesture. Hurriedly the duke and the priest dragged the two boys on board, then Milosh at once began to row with deep, powerful strokes that sent the boat racing across the water.

  Zizi leapt from Emilia’s shoulder to Luka’s and petted him all over his face with her tiny paws, then seized his ear and tugged it sharply. He gathered her close and crooned to her, and she snuggled her face into his shoulder, crooning back. Emilia knelt beside him and clasped his arm with both hands, trying to show him without words how very glad she was to see him. Then she turned to Tom, lying in the bottom of the boat. His eyes were shut. There was blood on his shirt.

  Emilia caught her breath in dismay. She looked at the priest who silently passed her his hipflask. She dribbled a little brandy between Tom’s pale lips and he swallowed, and then coughed. She sighed in relief as his eyelids fluttered then opened. He saw her face and smiled weakly. As he tried to speak, she shook her head swiftly and laid her finger on her lips. He nodded his understanding. Indeed, the sound of the boats in pursuit came clearly across the water.

  Emilia carefully eased open Tom’s shirt. The material was stuck to the wound, but she was able to moisten it with some water and lift it clear. Emilia had never seen a gunshot wound before. It looked very ugly. She bit her lip and quickly unbuttoned her bedraggled petticoat and tried to tear it into strips. The material was too tough. The priest silently passed her a knife, and she was able to make a soft pad to press against the wound, and then roughly bind it into place. Tom looked sick and exhausted, and she gave him more brandy, then passed the flask back to Father Plummer. With a grim smile, he gulped a mouthful and passed it to the duke, who drank as deeply. Milosh had a swig as well, and then insisted on Luka drinking a mouthful, for he was shivering violently, the wind off the sea blowing against his wet clothes.

  Their boat had slipped past the ship and was now out to sea, fighting big waves that rocked them violently. Tom bit back a groan. ‘Not far now,’ Milosh whispered. ‘Just let us get to the marshes, and they will never find us.’

  The sun was above the horizon now, and the mist that had protected them was quickly evaporating. Emilia could see the ship behind them, still shrouded in grey, but ahead of them was a vast sheet of water, with black-headed seagulls soaring above it. Beyond were the rich green fields of the reclaimed marsh, shining here and there with waterways lined with rushes and sedge. Milosh sent the boat flying across the bay, and it slid into the green shelter of the reed beds just as the last of the mist dissolved and the navy ship sailed out into the daylight.

  Milosh lifted his oars and turned back to look, lifting his hand to shield his eyes. Luka groped in his coat pocket and brought out his telescope, and put it to his eye. ‘Soldiers everywhere,’ he whispered. ‘Oh, look, there’s Nat!’

  ‘He’s not dead?’ Father Plummer cried in relief.

  ‘Alive and kicking,’ Luka said. ‘He’s got his arm in a sling.’

  ‘I’m glad I didn’t kill him,’ the priest said.

  ‘It’s a miracle you hit him at all,’ Milosh said. ‘I was afraid you’d get me!’

  ‘May I see?’ the duke said and Luka passed him the telescope. The duke stared at the ship for a long time, then gravely handed the telescope back to Luka.

  ‘I’m very grateful to you, my friends,’ he said with a shudder. ‘A minute more and I’d be clapped up in that ship’s stinking hold, on my way to London and the Tower. I can hardly believe it of Nat. He volunteered for this job! I guess he was a spy all along. No wonder I kept falling out of the frying pan and into the fire. He must’ve been betraying me every step of the way.’

  The duke’s voice had grown so choked he could barely speak. He sat silently, his breath coming harshly as he sought to compose himself, then he said roughly, ‘I cannot thank you enough! You’ve saved me from a truly terrible death, and from torture too, no doubt. How on earth did you guess Nat was a traitor?’

  Luka took the telescope from his eye long enough to quickly tell their tale, then went back to scanning the horizon behind them, though there was nothing to see but a high wall of rustling green reeds.

  ‘We could never have made it without Milosh,’ Emilia said, and the smuggler winked at her.

  ‘What is that thing you keep squinting through?’ he asked Luka in lively curiosity.

  ‘It’s a telescope. A far-seeing tube. It makes things that are far away look close by,’ Luka said, giving it to the smuggler.

  Milosh held it to his eyes and exclaimed aloud in amazement. He examined the ship closely, then swept the telescope this way and that, looking at the birds, the marshes, the far horizon. ‘It’s magic!’ he cried.

  Luka laughed. ‘No, it’s science,’ he said, sounding so much like John that Emilia wanted to pinch him. She forgave him the next instant as he said, rather hesitantly, ‘You can have it if you like.’

  Milosh lowered the telescope and stared at him in incredulous joy. Then he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. ‘In return for what?’ he demanded.

  Luka had the grace to flush. ‘In return for your help,’ he said. ‘We would never have been able to rescue the duke without you.’

  Milosh waved his hand in dismissal. ‘I wanted my fee for smuggling him out of the country. No duke, no gold. So there’s no debt there.’

  ‘But Emilia and I need your help too,’ Luka said in a small voice. He glanced at his co
usin. ‘And we need your lucky charm too.’

  Milosh put up his hand and touched his earring.

  ‘Twice now you’ve asked me for my charm,’ he said, handing back the telescope and beginning to row once more, deeper and deeper into the marshes. ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Luka began.

  ‘We have a long way to go,’ Milosh said, ‘and I like a good tale to help pass the time. Tell me everything.’

  So Luka did. When he had finished, Milosh stared at him for a long moment. ‘But how do you expect me to help you, lad?’ he asked. ‘Where is this gaol?’

  ‘Kingston-On-Thames.’ Even as Luka spoke the words, he felt how far that bustling market town was from these vast, empty marshlands.

  Milosh shrugged his shoulders. ‘We have no friends there.’

  ‘But you could help us? There’s only Emilia and me. How can we break our family out of gaol without help? You’re strong, you have ropes … ponies …’ Luka waved his hand, hoping for some kind of inspiration. Indeed, he did not know what he expected Milosh to do. In his most secret heart, he was still longing for an adult to come and tell him not to fret, that everything would be all right, and they would look after it all.

  ‘Kingston? Up on the Thames?’ Milosh shook his head. ‘I don’t know those roads. What would we do but risk running our own heads into the noose?’

  ‘Please,’ Luka begged. ‘My sister is only nine. Emilia’s brother is not much older, and blind. There’s my grandmother, and my mother.’

  ‘My sister,’ Emilia said, her heart feeling so bruised it was as if she had been kicked by a horse.

  ‘My father and my uncle, and little Sabina.’

  ‘We must save them. Please, please, help us.’

  Milosh shrugged again. ‘What can I say? Of course I will help you, if I can. If the Rom don’t help the Rom, who will?’

  Luka’s breath came out in a big sigh.

  ‘I head for London tomorrow night,’ Milosh said, ‘to take our loot to our customers. Tonight the ship comes from France, and we will load it up with our good English wool, and our good English duke …’ He flashed a smiling look at the Duke of Ormonde, who smiled back, rather ruefully.

  ‘… and we take off our cargo from the Continent. There are forbidden books for our Catholic friends here, and guns and ammunition for our foolhardy rebels, and brandy and gin and rum and silk and lace and gloves and jewellery, and most profitable for us at the moment, tea. Anyway, you can travel with me, you two. I know where the Smiths are. They’re at the foundry, in Horsmonden. They make cannons for me, which I smuggle out of the country …’

  ‘But surely that is treason!’ the duke cried.

  Milosh shrugged. ‘The English cannons are the best in the world, and the Spanish pay well for them …’

  ‘But the English are fighting the Spanish,’ the duke said, horrified. ‘You are smuggling cannons to our enemies!’

  ‘Not my enemies,’ Milosh said, losing his grin. ‘Besides, what do you care? It just means the Spanish have better weapons to fight your Roundheads with, leaving less for you to kill.’

  The duke shut his lips tightly together and said nothing.

  ‘With one behind you cannot sit on two horses,’ Milosh said, a saying Emilia and Luka knew well. ‘The Roundheads are your enemies, yes? So why do you care if they are killed by English cannons fired by you or English cannons fired by the Spanish?’

  The duke could not explain but he looked unhappy still.

  Milosh turned his attention back to Emilia and Luka. ‘The Smiths are a cold, hard, distrustful lot, not open and happy like me,’ he said.

  Father Plummer snorted.

  Milosh ignored him. ‘So I warn you to be careful. They will help if you have gold to give them – they care only for things made of metal, that family! – but not otherwise. I will not be able to stop there with you, I have appointments I cannot break. But I can take you almost to their doorstep. When do you plan to break your family out of gaol?’

  ‘We asked the Hearnes to meet us at Richmond Park on the last day of the month,’ Luka said, barely able to speak he was so full of hope. ‘At a place called Gallows Pond, near Kingston Gate.’

  Milosh frowned. ‘The moon will be bright, curse it! Oh well, we shall just have to hope for bad weather.’ He put up his hand and rubbed his earring, and winked at Emilia.

  ‘So you’ll come, you and the Owlers?’

  Milosh nodded. ‘If I’m not caught first and hung,’ he said, with a grin.

  ‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’ Luka cried.

  Emilia pressed her hands together and stared at him hopefully.

  He smiled at her and unclasped his earring. He offered it to her in the palm of his big, grimy hand. It gleamed iridescent green, with a slit of black just like a cat’s pupil.

  ‘It’s only a loan, mind you,’ he warned her. ‘I want it back.’

  Emilia nodded. She knew it was too much to expect him to give it to her always. She slipped her hand into her pocket and drew out the cat’s eye shell John had given her. ‘You could make another earring out of this,’ she said. ‘Just to get you by till I can give you yours back again.’

  He took it, thanked her gravely and slipped it into his pocket. Luka then slowly handed over the telescope. He was very sorry to see it go. Milosh, however, was very pleased. He spent so much time staring through it that the duke had to take over the oars.

  ‘I’ll take you to our camp for now,’ Milosh said, lowering the telescope, ‘so that my wife can tend the poor boy’s shoulder. He will not be able to ride with us, but I’ll make sure he gets home to his father safely. A rich squire, hey?’ He winked. ‘Maybe he’d like some of my French brandy?’

  ‘I’m sure he would,’ Tom said, smiling wanly.

  ‘You’ll be right as rain in a week or so, don’t you worry,’ Luka assured him.

  ‘I’ll see you at Gallows Pond then, too,’ Tom said. ‘You can count on it!’

  ‘Don’t go hurting your shoulder,’ Emilia said anxiously.

  ‘And risk missing out on the end of the adventure! Not on your life!’ Tom said.

  ‘I’ll see you all at Gallows Pond then,’ Milosh said. ‘When you hear the owl cry, you’ll know it’s me!’

  ‘The cry of the owl means death,’ Emilia said.

  ‘Not to those that make it, sweetling,’ he grinned.

  She smiled back, so full of hope and gladness she felt her heart might burst. Very carefully she hung the round, green shell next to the rue flower. Four charms she wore now, and a real promise of help. And tonight they would set out in the dark hours of the night to try to find the fifth charm, and this time they knew exactly where to go. Surely the next charm would soon be hers?

  A lightning bolt forged from iron. What powers would such a charm hold?

  Something fierce and dark and hard, she thought. Something cruel.

  She shivered in sudden fear.

  T h e F a c t s b e h i n d t h e F i c t i o n

  Everywhere that Emilia and Luka travel on their adventures is a real place, somewhere that you too can visit. However, around these real places I have spun stories, like a spider wrapping up a bee caught in its web until little of the insect can be seen.

  For example, Arundel Castle is just as I have described it, except that if you go climbing a rope down its well, I very much doubt if you will find a secret passage. There are rumours of a secret passage that runs from Arundel towards Amberley, which was apparently shut up after someone was lost inside. But no one seems to remember where the secret passage began or ended, and so I have taken the liberty of making it up as I liked.

  Amberley Castle is now a very beautiful hotel, but it was indeed blown up during the Civil War. After the war it was bought by a James Butler from the commission of sequestered estates for 3341 pounds. Very little is known about this James Butler. I like to imagine it was James Butler, the Duke of Ormonde, but unfortunately this is unlikely. (Still, how many James Butlers
could there have been?)

  Similarly, Firle Place stands just where I have described it, at the foot of the South Downs, with Firle Beacon rising high into the sky behind it. It has been owned by the Gage family for over five hundred years. The second baronet died in 1654 and his two elder sons, Thomas and John, both succeeded to Firle in turn as the third and fourth baronets. In 1658 Sir Thomas would have been eighteen and his younger brother John sixteen, as I have described in the book. Sir Thomas died at the age of twenty in 1660, and his brother John inherited. I have no idea if Sir John was interested in science, but given his family history, it seems very likely.

  Their relation, Colonel Sir Henry Gage, did indeed relieve the desperate siege at Basing House, and he did die later fighting for the king at Oxford. There is very little information about his family, however, apart from the fact that he had three brothers, all priests, and that one of them turned apostate and advised Cromwell on South America, before dying in Jamaica.

  I have taken one other liberty with the story of the Gage family, and that is to have the greengage already growing in their orchard. There is some debate about when the Reine Claude plum was introduced into England – some accounts say in the mid-sixteenth century, others say it was in 1724, some say it was by the Reverend John Gage and some say it was by Sir William Gage. Once again, I have taken the date which best suited my purposes – primarily because I liked the story about the lost label. Also, greengage stones were found in the wreck of the Mary Rose, which seems to support the theory that this type of plum was already in England by the time this great warship of Henry VIII’s was sunk in 1545, a hundred and thirteen years before the time of Luka and Emilia’s adventures.

  You can walk the South Downs way, like Emilia and Luka, and see the Chanctonbury Ring and the Long Man of Wilmington, and you can visit the Mermaid Inn at Rye, and hear many old tales about smugglers there.

  The Cat’s Eye Shell

  The cat’s eye shell is actually a sea snail called a Turban Shell – the glossy green species is from the Tapestry Turban, Turbo petholatus. They are widely distributed through the tropics but were rare indeed in seventeenth-century Europe. They were commonly used as a ward against the evil eye, probably because they do look remarkably like an eye.