Agatha & the Scarlet Scarab

by Karl Fish

  Nathaniel began to count out a very long and lonely fifty.

  Chapter 14

  Trinity

  Gideon continued his brisk walk, pointing out random homes and shops during his unbreakable strides. Aggie tried absorbing it all but not without checking behind her, as she swiftly followed her uncle, scanning the properties and streets for signs of threat. There was an abundance of side passages and alleyways randomly scattered between houses. The shadows played havoc with her already fraught nerves.

  ‘A sheer labyrinth of pathways, nooks and crannies,’ Gideon explained. ‘No wonder smugglers and thieves had adored this place for centuries.’ He laughed.

  The Steep itself ran downhill at a steady slant from The Keep, before splitting off around a circular stone cenotaph, commemorating The First Great War. At this point, the road diverged into two. Southerly it ran at an even sharper gradient downwards, still known as the Steep and from where it originally took its name. Easterly, the road continued on a less steep incline and out towards open countryside. To the locals, this was the Old London Road.

  The cenotaph, with its great Archangel pointing skywards, had the names of all the Ambledown residents who had perished in the ‘First’ carved into stone ledgers that lay at its feet. All were expertly chiselled, alphabetically, by surname. Such was the volume of brave servicemen and women that half-a-dozen tomes were covered in their unfortunate names and where lichen and moss now resided.

  Overlooking the memorial and marking the corners where the roads divided were three public houses. The Crown was a traditional coaching house, preferred by Ambledown’s well-heeled, and peered directly down upon the steepest part of the hill as if peering down on the residents itself, as so often its clientele did. South-westerly to The Crown was The Poacher and Ferret. ‘The Poacher’ as it was known locally. To say this epitomised everything The Crown was not, was an understatement. Its perpetually shuttered windows served to keep prying eyes out. Inside, it was cloaked in darkness, criminality and mystery. Thirdly, The Hart. Sitting almost opposite the Poacher and South-easterly to The Crown it was a fine public house; the common ground between Crown and Poacher. Not as snooty as The Crown or as intimidating as the Poacher, it was the popular haunt for most of the Ambledown residents.

  Uncle Gideon paused at the stone angel. Aggie’s eyes followed the course of his finger as it moved between the three alehouses. Several glances between establishments and she already preferred the look of The Crown, but it seemed very quiet. The Poacher’s shutters were boarded up but it was still the noisiest of the three, while The Hart appeared welcoming and was loud enough to suggest a brisk trade. After a brief, calculated decision, Gideon romped forward towards the Poacher.

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’ Aggie asked, surprised at his choice.

  ‘Not at all,’ her uncle responded laughing. ‘Today is officially Sunday Harvest,’ he continued. ‘It’s the only day of the year you really would choose to dine at the Poacher. It’s Marsh Mutton Day and that’s why it is so busy. Even The Crown will be missing a few regulars today.’

  Aggie looked back at The Crown. If people were willing to leave the refined surroundings of the coaching house to venture to this wreck it couldn’t be all that bad. But nevertheless, the Poacher looked squalid and uninviting.

  ‘One thing,’ Gideon explained. ‘This is a hive of rogues and villains. Don’t be fooled by the temporary shift in clientele. Stay close to me and do not talk to anyone.’

  Oh great! Aggie thought. She had just explained to Gideon she was nervous and after her train ordeal was still seeking answers.

  Undeterred at the expression she cast his way, her uncle bounded into the pub, but this time, for the first time since she’d arrived, grasping her left hand with his right as he did so. Sensing what he had just said could not be taken lightly, she thrust her right hand into the pocket containing the blue velvet case that housed her now most treasured possession – the magnifying glass.

  Quite unexpectedly, the atmosphere inside the Poacher and Ferret was not as dark as the subdued candles and occasional bulb that lit it suggested. It was rowdy and it stank of the stale ale and tobacco smoke that smothered the air. However, there seemed a genuine good humour to the place. There were much laughter and the constant chinking of pint glasses followed by the traditional ‘Cheers’. Admittedly, there was a fair share of dubious-looking clientele and unable men who were not off to war. But also many ruddy-faced older folk too old to serve in foreign fields, and most seemed very well-turned out and simply enjoying a libation or two to accompany their merriment.

  Aggie felt less intimidated than expected as her uncle guided her through the first bar and its crowd of drinkers. Gideon seemed to know everyone. People doffed their caps to him, said hello, and occasionally shook his other hand. None of them so much as even glimpsed at her as she followed him. Through the initial bustle of the crowd, he made his way to an inner courtyard. It was dark enough for mischief though a few well-placed lanterns sufficiently lit their way.

  There were men playing skittles, some men pushing pennies across a striped wooden board, a noisy card game was in full flow, and there was a very large man sitting in the corner on his own with his back to them. He was as broad as the table he sat at and tethered to the leg of his chair was a large grey wolfhound. The man was too busy devouring a haunch of meat to spot Aggie staring at him but the hound occasionally opened an eye to observe her.

  All of a sudden, the men playing cards erupted into a fight. A stein of ale was thrown and it peppered the wall just above the large man who continued eating. Cards flew up in the air and the coins from the game were tossed violently across the courtyard. As the men threw punches at each other, other men scrambled for the coins.

  Gideon stood in front of his charge to protect her as the scuffle broke out. Aggie was shaking. She had never witnessed such an immediate eruption of violence. Her uncle gripped her hand tighter as if that was somehow comforting. As the scuffle began to subside and the men scrambled to retrieve the money they had lost to the floor, a whoosh of wings flew past Aggie’s cheek. A quick flash of black and white dashed to the floor before flapping upwards and landing on the large man’s shoulder. The creature cawed at the man and tapped its beak on him.

  The man had not stopped chewing his food or even offered a glance during the skirmish. He now turned his head to look at the large magpie that was dutifully looking back at him with an object glinting in its beak.

  Aggie could now see the slightest profile of the man. Bearded and grizzled he sported a large tattoo of a teardrop beneath his eye.

  ‘What’s that you have there, my lovely?’ he said to the bird, before offering an oversized finger to hop on to. Stroking its plumage, as he observed the coin it had produced for him, he pulled a wormlike string of mutton from his plate and offered it as a reward. The magpie, which was well-versed in such enterprises, dropped the coin, sending it spinning just in front of him as it took its well-deserved prize and retired to the rafters. His large hand slammed down on the coin with immediacy, stopping it in mid-spin. He paused for a while before sliding it off to reveal the treasure below.

  ‘Heads, I win.’ He laughed.

  People laughed in response, except for one man.

  ‘You know that’s my farthing,’ responded a much slighter man who had instigated and been embroiled in the fight.

  ‘Really?’ said the much larger man who, even seated, towered over the tinier rival. He turned around now to face his accuser. ‘If that’s so, which year was it minted?’ he continued, squinting purposefully and observing the tiny details on the coin’s tail.

  The much smaller aggressive man scowled at him taking a step forward as he did so. There was a growl from under the table. The wolfhound’s head was now up and its canines exposed. The slight man said nothing.

  ‘Not even a guess, Lyle?’ the giant of a man asked, staring down at his mismatched opponent. ‘Finders keepers then!’ the large man concluded
before continuing his meal.

  The troublemaker cursed once more and stormed out of the courtyard. He purposely bumped into people, spoiling for a fight, spotting that Gideon was clasping his niece’s hand he tried to break their bond by walking through them.

  Gideon rounded on him. ‘Walk around us,’ Gideon said with authority as he stooped and stared eye to eye with the little wretch. The little man did not fancy this adversary either. The man eventually strode around them but not without bumping into Aggie’s right-hand side as he passed. He glared back at her but she didn’t falter and remained next to her uncle, glaring back, still clasping her precious case within her pocket.

  With a final curse and a smash of glasses as he left, the troublemaker was soon gone. It was just a momentary interruption. Soon, as if nothing had happened, everyone turned to their drinks and carried on with their gaming and eating.

  ‘Good evening, Gideon,’ the huge man said with his mouth now half full of the marsh mutton he had been devouring just moments before. Aggie was sure he hadn’t even glanced their way but somehow he’d known they were there.

  ‘Hello, Pop,’ Gideon responded and then slid into the chair directly opposite him. Gideon pulled Agatha and nodded towards the spare chair beside him. Aggie was pre-occupied by the large dog that lay immediately beneath keenly observing her.

  ‘She won’t bite you, girl. Will ya, Luna?’ the large man reassured Aggie before a soft sole towards the dog’s rump forced the hound to move out from the table and behind him.

  ‘Aggie, this is Pop Braggan. An old friend of mine,’ Gideon advised.

  Aggie stared at the giant of a man. His grizzled face scarred with many a battle and a single teardrop tattoo, she keenly observed. His impressive beard was harbouring a few recent gravy trails and crumbs from his dinner but the most outstanding aspect, apart from the man’s sheer size, was the gold that adorned him. Many rings on fingers, a dozen or so individual gold chains and large studs within both of his ears. He was a walking jewellery shop.

  Pop acknowledged the young girl with the slightest of nods.

  ‘You ’ungry?’ he asked Aggie.

  ‘Starving’ she replied.

  Despite his brutal presence, he had a calmness that enveloped them all. Gideon was at ease with him and with Pop Braggan, the gold-laden giant for a friend. it was very easy to see why.

  ‘Gemima!’ Pop called out. ‘Two more plates, please.’

  Aggie wasn’t sure who he had just spoken to but within a few moments, a small girl , no older than seven of eight, appeared with two plates and set them down in front of her and Gideon. Aggie recognised her as the small girl that had peered up at the window while she had been imprisoned within The Keep. The girl didn’t recognise her. No doubt her recent change of appearance was responsible, and, of course, it was some distance to recognise her through a slit of an archer’s window. No sooner had Gemima left when an older girl appeared with a large steaming pan. She proceeded to ladle out a rich stew containing large lumps of meat, vegetables, and pearl barley. Aggie recognised her too, she was the one that had looked back at her and stared right into her eyes.

  ‘Who’s this then, Gideon?’ the girl asked, trying to place Aggie.

  ‘My new evacuee,’ he replied.

  ‘Got a name, has she?’ the girl asked Gideon, staring directly at Aggie.

  Aggie was just about to respond for herself when Gideon beat her to it.

  ‘You can call her Agatha,’ he responded.

  ‘Hello, Agatha. I’m Elizabeth. Parents a fan of Mrs Christie?’ Elizabeth asked.

  Aggie smiled, impressed. Although obvious to her, most people just took that as her name and never enquired about the origin.

  ‘I think it was my mother actually,’ Aggie responded quickly. ‘But as they both died when I was young, I never got to ask.’

  The mood turned slightly sombre. Elizabeth had only been making conversation and Aggie’s answer was completely unexpected. Gideon gave his niece a swift kick under the table as if to shut her up. Elizabeth, embarrassed by Aggie’s revelation went red and quickly cleared away Pop’s now empty plate. Pop pushed the farthing his magpie had procured earlier towards her. She thanked them and left, ruddy-faced and embarrassed.

  ‘Eat Up,’ Gideon urged his niece. He had already begun to consume his.

  It was surprisingly good, and she too wolfed it down. Aggie was so hungry she did not pay much attention to Gideon and Pop’s conversation. Something about blackberries being in harvest, fish swimming upstream, and a sunset over the cliffs. All very boring. What’s more, the large hound was making its presence felt, whimpering at her feet for scraps. She was just finishing the last morsel on her plate when Pop let out a laugh.

  ‘You were starving, girl.’ He chortled, staring down at her plate, which was almost licked clean. ‘Didn’t even leave none for me poor dog. Orrible int she, Luna?’ He laughed. Standing up and brushing himself down from the dinner he exclaimed to the whole pub, ‘The Braggans’ marsh mutton hasn’t disappointed yet.’

  To a round of applause, he took a small bow – well, as small as a man of his size could – with his arms twirling like a courtier.

  ‘Be seeing you, Gideon,’ Pop said, shaking her uncle’s hand, which looked like a child’s in comparison to Pop’s bear-sized mitt. ‘You too, Agatha,’ he whispered towards her as he donned his hat to say goodbye, casting a smirk towards her uncle.

  His huge hulk blocked out a great deal of the natural sunlight coming in as he strode outwards. A slight whistle from his lips encouraged the huge wolfhound to nonchalantly rise. It whimpered for a final time as it saw the starkness of Aggie’s plate and as its eyes drew level to hers. It then shook itself down and followed Pop’s path. As Pop was leaving, the whoosh of wings rattled from the rafters once again and flew a straight path through the pub, causing people to duck as it did so. As the door closed, ‘Lady’, the magpie, just managed to swerve through the threshold to perch on her master’s shoulder.

  Now suitably replenished with a fine mutton stew, Aggie smiled up at her uncle. He placed a caring arm around her.

  ‘Right then, time to finish the grand tour. At least two more stops before we get you ready for school tomorrow.’

  ‘School?’ Aggie questioned.

  ‘Yes, school. It doesn’t stop for war so it’s not stopping for you,’ he replied.

  ‘But Florrie always said I couldn’t go to a normal school.’

  Nudging Aggie to alight from her chair, he reached across to where Pop’s empty plate was. She hadn’t seen it but a tan leather ledger was laid out right beside it.

  ‘What’s that?’ Aggie enquired.

  ‘It must be Pop’s,’ Gideon responded, ‘and I’m not leaving it here for any light fingers to take it. I know who to give it to.’

  With that, both her uncle and she pushed through the remaining crowds. This time, he didn’t feel the need to grasp her hand, instead, he clung to Pop’s ledger. Just as they were leaving a voice came from behind the bar.

  ‘Be seeing you around, Agatha,’ came the welcoming girl’s voice.

  It was Elizabeth, the girl she had unintentionally embarrassed earlier. Aggie rose a half-hearted wave to her as they left.

  Just after they left the Poacher, the grubby, ink-covered face of Eric Peabody appeared as the boy ran down the road.

  ‘All finished, Giddy,’ he shouted as he ran.

  ‘Good lad,’ Gideon responded with a smile, tossing him a coin.

  Eric caught it in flight. ‘I hope they saved some mutton for me,’ the boy said as he flew into the Poacher. ‘Lizzy can be a right cow to me sometimes,’ he added before laughing and disappearing inside.

  ‘They allow children in that place?’ Aggie asked in shock. Not realising that it was true of her too.

  ‘Much goes on in that place, Aggie, but serving children ale is not one of them. The adults wouldn’t want to share it for starters. No, Eric lives in the Poacher with his older sister Elizabeth and y
ounger sister Gemima. All three of them evacuees from London, a bit like yourself,’ Gideon explained.

  ‘Really?’ replied Aggie.

  ‘Yes, really. You’ll have plenty of time to get to know them. At school, tomorrow!’ he curtly responded back. As if Agatha had no choice in the matter and certainly no time to dispute it, Gideon began his briskest of walks down the sharpest descent of the Steep towards a shop that had a large black cat swaying on a sign that protruded just above its doorway. ‘A little surprise for you.’ Her uncle smiled, changing tone with his pace, as he walked beneath the metal feline. ‘Le Café Chat Noir!’ Gideon exclaimed.

  Chapter 15

  Eros

  Nathaniel Noone watched out through the revolving door, counting to fifty as ordered by Draper, though it felt much longer. His hand still clasped the hidden pistol deep inside his coat pocket, trigger finger ready. In the other pocket, the photographs and the torches he’d used to light up the hidden markings.

  On ‘fifty’, Noone rushed out of the door. It was as if the elements had been waiting for him to alight as just then a mighty crash of thunder came from the heavens. Screams rang out and people rushed for cover. The lonely night of the air-raid, fresh within everyone’s minds, convinced the masses that the Thunder Machines had arrived again. Panic ensued and within the immediate rush, people pushed and shoved themselves erratically to find safety. Pushing became crushing and as people lost their footings, the very real threat of serious injury from themselves and not an air-raid was increasingly developing.

  BANG!

  The deafening volley of a gunshot came from across the road and it caused the crowds to momentarily pause and squat for cover. In that brief interlude, the heavens opened and the torrents of rain hammered down, saturating everything in their path. The cold from the teeming precipitation had stunned everyone into a brief sensibility. It was not a doodlebug strike. It was simply a thunderstorm. Nevertheless, a new scramble for warmth and cover broke out amidst the already-nervous civilians.