Gideon 02 -The Time Thief

by Linda Buckley-Archer

  Five against four! thought Kate but restrained herself from correcting him out loud in the circumstances.

  Mr. Schock lifted up his tied wrists and shook his head. “We’re unarmed…. We wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “Sorel would be happy to have an excuse to shoot us,” said Montfaron. “And, in any case, such an action would be an admission of guilt. Do not fear, the people of Arras have common sense and good hearts. When we are brought before the authorities we shall be accorded our rights.”

  Suddenly Kate turned to Mr. Schock. “I must ask you something while I can. Does Peter’s mum have short, dark hair with a fringe that flicks up like this?”

  Kate indicated the shape with her hand.

  “Well, yes,” said Mr. Schock, puzzled.

  “I thought so…. I think I’d better tell you something in case I don’t get another chance. I saw the future tonight. And you’re just going to have to believe me because I know that it’s true. I saw it as clearly as if I were there myself. My dad has brought Peter home. I saw them arrive at the farm and I saw him running into his mum’s arms.”

  Peter’s stomach lurched and Hannah stared meaningfully at him.

  “The Lord be praised,” she said.

  Mr. Schock was not sure how to react. “I’m sorry, Kate, but how can you possibly know that?”

  “You’ll just have to take my word for it. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life: Peter is safe.”

  Mr. Schock scrutinized Kate’s face and could not doubt her sincerity. “In which case the sooner we get out of this little mess and go home to see if you’re right, the better for all concerned.”

  Peter slowly drew in his breath. After everything else that had happened to Kate, why should she not be able to see the future, too? Soon they were all bundled out of the wagon, but for Peter all thought of immediate danger was banished as a picture of his twelve-year-old self running into his mother’s arms burned itself onto his mind. How many lives could one person lead? How was it possible to make any sense out of the mystery of time and existence?

  When Peter opened his eyes again, he was surprised to see Sorel reappear with a woman. It was Marie. He held her firmly by the elbow with one hand while in the other he held a sheet of paper. He marched his wife right up to the Marquis and wafted the document in his face. Marie could not bear to look at Montfaron and she turned her bruised and swollen face as far to one side as she could, biting her lip. Sorel said something to Montfaron and then pushed his wife roughly away. Peter watched the Marquis pale visibly. He did not need his father to translate what Sorel had said. Marie was going to testify against them. She had declared them to be spies and enemies of the Revolution.

  They were made to descend a steep stone staircase. Kate peered down into the gaping darkness and her heart sank. Les Boves, the ancient chalk mines of Arras, were eerily beautiful. At first there were stone columns and vaulted ceilings, but as they progressed deeper into the subterranean tunnels they walked on dirt paths which were treacherously slippery while the walls were of roughly hewn stone. Twice the Marquis de Montfaron cracked his head on the ceiling. These mines were not constructed to accommodate men of his height, and he had to walk with a stoop. They could scarcely see where they trod, for the stinking tallow candles that guttered in alcoves above them cast too weak a light. Cool, damp air rose up from the depths as if from a crypt. It was a maze: Kate doubted that she could find her way back up to the surface unaided. They walked past a shrine of sorts and Kate noticed fossils embedded in the tunnel walls. Eventually they arrived at a man-made cave, dug out of the limestone. There were some oak wine barrels in one corner and metal bars enclosed it. One of the men opened up the creaking door with a large, rusting key and indicated that Hannah and Kate should enter. Peter watched in horror as the door was locked and he saw Hannah and Kate cling to each other. There was only just enough room for the two of them. Water trickled down the walls.

  “This is intolerable!” Peter shouted suddenly. “Kate and Hannah must not be held in such conditions!”

  The men did not understand what he said, but their response was to push him forward down the passage. He lost his footing and fell heavily, owing to his hands being tied, and he hurt his elbow and shoulder. Sorel kicked out at him. Mr. Schock and Montfaron protested and struggled against their captors in order to help Peter up but he slipped and grazed his temple against the limestone. Kate watched in despair as her three companions were manhandled down the tunnel. Before they disappeared out of sight, Peter managed to turn around. Their eyes met.

  “Peter!” she found herself crying, but he had disappeared.

  Soon Kate could not even hear their steps. She and Hannah were left alone in the semi-darkness. Hannah started to cough and the sound of it seemed to echo forever in the interminable, cool tunnels.

  “It is Peter, isn’t it?”

  “How could you say such a thing, Mistress Kate?”

  Kate held her peace and her eyes gradually became accustomed to the semidarkness. She took out the items she had secreted in her skirts.

  “Here,” she said, passing Hannah some chocolate. “Perhaps this will make us feel better.”

  Kate tested the flashlight. It still worked, although she knew she must save the batteries. She had also brought her Swiss Army knife, Megan’s mobile, and one of the watches. Now that things could not get much worse Kate felt strangely calm. Slowly it dawned on her that there was only one person who stood a chance of getting them all out of here. And a plan started to form in her mind. Even if she failed, it was worth the attempt … but it all depended on her ability to fast-forward at will. She flipped open the pen knife and started to saw through Hannah’s bonds as best she could with her bound hands.

  Kate had been calling at the top of her voice for some time before one of Sorel’s cronies eventually responded. She pointed at Hannah, who was slumped against one of the barrels. Hannah started to cough violently.

  “Very sick,” Kate said slowly and loudly. “Malade. Très malade.”

  The man nodded and shrugged his shoulders. Kate mimed picking up a cup and drinking from it, while trying not to let her loosened bonds fall off. When the man did not rush off enthusiastically to fetch them refreshments, Kate held up the wristwatch, mimed drinking from a cup, then pointed first at the watch, then at the man. He looked more interested and put his hands through the bars to reach for the watch. Kate stepped backward and the man grinned. He nodded and disappeared.

  “Just don’t say anything for a bit, Hannah, I’ve got to concentrate…. And, Hannah?”

  “Yes, Mistress Kate?”

  “Good luck…”

  Hannah sat on the cold, hard floor with her hands on her lap and watched Kate as she stood, eyes closed in concentration, her forehead resting against the iron bars. Minutes passed. The guard did not reappear and Kate remained stubbornly solid. Any hope that the plan might actually work began to evaporate. But then Hannah heard footfall echoing in the distance and she looked toward the dark tunnel.

  “He’s coming back, Mistress Kate!”

  When Hannah turned to the spot where Kate had been, there was nothing but empty space. Hannah shivered. ’Tis no wonder Kate is looking so pale, she said to herself. All this is enough to make your blood freeze. Then, as planned, she lay out on the floor and allowed her mouth to flop open. When the guard arrived, and saw that one of his prisoners had gone and that the other was lying unconscious, he set down the jug of water he was carrying and took out a bunch of keys. He hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was a trap, but then opened the door anyway. He did not feel someone brush past him. Nor did he notice the bunch of keys vanish into thin air….

  Speed and time being relative, once Kate was fast-forwarding, it seemed that she had to wait for an eternity while the man unlocked the door. His movements appeared so slow to her as to be barely perceptible. She could not bear to watch his progress because it made her feel so impatient. She had to make up ways to occupy th
e time, like trying to remember every girl’s name in her class and then how many people she knew in the entire world. All the while she paced up and down the tiny cell in order that she might appear invisible to the man.

  At last Kate was able to squeeze through the gap in the door and then, with difficulty, for nothing felt quite the same when she was fast-forwarding, she grabbed the flashlight and her knife, pulled the rusting set of keys out of the lock, and ran into the dark tunnel. She switched on the flashlight and hoped that the batteries would last longer when she was fast-forwarding. Soon there was a fork in the tunnel and she chose to go right. Immediately afterward there was another fork and she was about to turn left when she realized that she was bound to get lost. So Kate retraced her steps and, using the corkscrew attachment of her Swiss Army knife, scraped a continuous fine line on the wall. She walked on and on. Where had they put the others? A panicky feeling started to rise up inside her. The tunnel forked yet again and there were some rough steps leading to a higher level. She could not decide which direction to take, and for the first time since their arrest, Kate’s courage failed her. She crouched down, resting her chin on her knees and clutching her ankles. She shivered in the cold and immense silence and felt oppressed by the unimaginably colossal weight of the rock above her. She wondered if she would ever see the light of day again.

  It was some time before she felt able to continue. She walked across the entrance to one tunnel, about to go down another, when something stopped her in her tracks. Garlic! She could smell garlic! It had to be the Marquis de Montfaron! Kate ran helter-skelter down the tunnel and soon came across a series of caves used for storage. She walked past mountains of cheeses and dozens of barrels of beer and then she saw them. She trained the flashlight on two frozen figures.

  “There you are!” she cried.

  The men were in the middle of an animated conversation. Montfaron had his mouth open in a small O shape, and Peter was gesticulating with his hands. But there was no sign of Mr. Schock. Kate took the set of keys and tried one after another until she found the right one.

  “I can’t stop, I’ve got to find Mr. Schock!” she shouted as she pulled wide the door and continued down the tunnel, training her light on the floor to avoid tripping up. But there was no sign of him, and no more storage caves, so she decided to return the way she had come. By the time she passed Montfaron and Peter again, they were both looking and pointing at the open door.

  “Yes!” she exclaimed. “Get a move on! You’re free! I could do with a bit of help!”

  She ran up the rough stairs she had passed earlier and now charged down that tunnel. At least she no longer felt cold. There, to her great relief, a short way down the tunnel, she discovered Mr. Schock seated on a small barrel and surrounded by giant cheeses—and he was not alone. Kate gasped and put her nose through the bars to confirm her first impression. Mr. Schock was in the process of wrapping his pale blue jacket around someone’s shoulders.

  “Louis-Philippe!” she cried.

  Kate peered at him. He looked terrible. There were beads of sweat on his forehead, he was hollowed-eyed and his face had lost all its color.

  “Poor Louis-Philippe!” she said.

  She fumbled with the keys, becoming increasingly impatient. “Done it!” she said finally.

  Kate gently stroked Louis-Philippe’s hair. She spoke, even though she knew that they could not hear her, or that she would sound like a buzzing insect. “I hope you’re strong enough to walk…. Try to get upstairs, if you can. I daren’t leave Hannah alone with that man any longer.”

  Kate ran so fast she got the stitch and had to slow down, stumbling along the uneven, treacherous paths, following the marks she had left on the walls, holding her skirts and the keys in one hand and the flashlight in the other. Finally, she reached her destination and skidded to a halt.

  The scene which confronted her was surreal, and one which, in other circumstances, would have made her laugh out loud. The man was cowering, holding his arms protectively over his head. Smashed pieces of a crockery water jug lay on the floor, while Hannah stood half in, half out of the doorway, holding the jug handle in her hand. She looked as fierce as a hissing cat.

  Kate stood for a moment and scratched her head, looking rather like a moving man weighing up how he was going to get a large piece of furniture up the stairs. Then she grabbed Hannah round the waist and pulled with all her might to get her out of the cell. Her flesh felt hard, like wood. Kate was getting nowhere pulling so she decided to push instead. She crawled in front of Hannah and, using the weight of the man as leverage, shoved with head, shoulders, and the flat of her hands until her face grew red and her breath came out in short grunts. All at once Kate felt something give. She wriggled out to admire her handiwork. Hannah was falling backward, but very, very slowly. While Kate waited, she sorted out the correct key and put it into the lock. Then she pulled off the man’s jacket, folded it into two and placed it where she estimated Hannah’s head would hit the ground. Kate could not help laughing as Hannah’s body seemed to float in midair before coming to rest, featherlike on the ground. Like thunder after lightning, the crashing sound came several seconds later. “Ouch,” said Kate sympathetically.

  Kate closed the door, locked it, and tossed the keys out of reach. She felt rather pleased with herself. Hannah’s expression slowly turned from one of surprise to pain. “Sorry, Hannah!”

  Kate stood and willed herself to stop fast-forwarding. She tried to banish the thought that perhaps this time she would never return to normal which meant, of course, that she thought of nothing else. Kate started to panic and decided to distract herself by going to see how the others were getting on, particularly Louis-Philippe, who had looked so ill. At the back of her mind, too, she wondered if her lighthearted comment about Joshua saving her had any truth to it. And it had happened three times…. Could it be possible that, like a lightning conductor grounds the electricity in a storm, Joshua was able to ground her?

  By the time Kate reached Peter and the Marquis de Montfaron, they were beginning to run toward her, up the tunnel. In the weak light cast by a guttering tallow candle, the men looked like two magnificent sculptures, punching the air with their fists and kicking back their heels. She walked all around them as if she were in a gallery. Was Joshua her guardian angel? She noticed the tiny dark hairs on his fingers. Kate reached out her hand slowly toward his. His warmth seemed to flow into her even before she touched him, and as she gripped his hand, Kate exploded back into the normal flow of time. The noise of the men’s pounding feet, their panting, and their exclamations of surprise all but deafened her. It has to be Peter! she thought. It has to be! There must be some link between us!

  “It was you that opened the door!” said Peter. “I was certain it was! You are an extraordinary girl, Kate! I always knew it!”

  She stared back at him with glittering eyes. “There’s no time to lose,” she cried. “I’ve let everyone out and I’ve locked the guard in the cell where they put me and Hannah. Let’s get out while we can!”

  They followed her up the tunnels and after a few moments they heard the sound of more footsteps behind them.

  “That will be Mr. Schock and the other prisoner,” said Kate.

  “The other prisoner?” asked Montfaron.

  “Yes,” said Kate, deciding to let him discover for himself who it was once they were safely out of the chalk mines. “Follow us!” Kate shouted behind her.

  Soon they reached Hannah and the angry guard.

  “Oh, thank the Lord!” she said. “He’s been throwing himself at the bars like a caged bear! I fear he might break through if he carries on much longer.”

  The guard glowered furiously at them through the bars. Kate was now so out of breath that she did not answer but merely grabbed hold of Hannah by the elbow and pulled her along with them. Mr. Schock and Louis-Philippe were still trailing behind. The desperate group ran onward and upward until they reached the final set of stairs. Peter went on ah
ead to the entrance to see if all was clear, and when he saw that it was, he motioned silently for everyone to follow him.

  Kate and Hannah stole out into the cold night air, walking on tiptoes, their hearts pitter-pattering as their eyes darted anxiously around them. The covered arcades were dark and the many pillars obstructed their view of the square. Suddenly, behind them, a shot rang out, echoing down into the tunnels, and there was a cry. A man’s cry. Peter tore back as did Kate and Hannah. A powerful smell of gunpowder met their nostrils and then, at the bottom of the first set of stairs, they saw Sorel with a smoking pistol in his hand. Across his feet lay a motionless figure in a pale blue jacket.

  “Dad!” screamed Peter and hurtled down the stairs blind to everything, pushing both Montfaron and his father out of the way. He hurled himself at Sorel like a madman, knocked the pistol out of his hand, sending it skidding across the floor, and punched him repeatedly until he collapsed, insensible, and slumped against the wall of the tunnel. When Peter turned around, breathless and wild-eyed, the figure in the blue jacket was pushing himself up off the floor, bruised by his fall but otherwise uninjured. Peter stared at him in confusion. And then Montfaron hurried down the stairs.

  “Louis-Philippe?” they both exclaimed at the same time.

  Nobody moved.

  Kate gasped. “It is true, then!”

  Mr. Schock slowly descended the staircase, his eyes wide in disbelief.

  “Peter?” he said incredulously. “Can it really be you?”

  TWENTY-THREE

  A BARGAIN, A GIFT, AND A REQUEST

  In which the Marquis de Montfaron strikes a bargain with the party, Peter sends a gift to the future, and the Tar Man requests Lord Luxon’s help

  The party commandeered Sorel’s wagon without scruple and made their way out of Arras through a maze of quiet back streets, wrapping sacks over their heads and shoulders in the guise of peasant farmers. Peter drove, which gave him an excuse to keep his eye on the road rather than face his companions. Louis-Philippe, so feverish as to scarcely understand what was happening to him, dozed fitfully on his father’s shoulder. A deep, hacking cough frequently disturbed him, but he would soon drift back into sleep. Soon they had left Arras behind. They traveled without speaking through the quiet of the night, listening to the croaking of toads and to the hooting of owls. No one liked to break the silence. Kate sat smoldering behind Peter, her gaze boring into the small of his back as she tallied up the sum total of his deception. It was Montfaron who spoke first.