by Edith Layton
Augustus looked down at the uneasy trio. He didn’t doubt they looked after themselves very well. He always believed the best of everyone, but didn’t think there was much best in these shifty children. Nor did he believe most of what they’d said. He did believe they’d snatched a cat to hold for ransom, and then discovered how valuable it might be. And of course they were vulnerable…if there were only the three of them. If they didn’t have large brothers or accomplices waiting in the shadows for anyone stupid enough to believe them.
Still, whatever else went on in London’s shadows, her criminals tended to prey on the weak. The upper classes were respected. People in any position of power were generally avoided by the lower classes because the punishment for crimes against them was so very swift and strict.
But Augustus was a large, competent man who had been taught to protect himself. And he was a man who badly wanted to make his Queen rest easy tonight.
He nodded. “Lead on,” he said.
* * *
The streets were lit by stars, moon and occasional torches set over the lintels of some of the buildings they passed. But the boys never stumbled as they led Augustus down one alley and through another, winding along the increasingly noisome streets in hasty silence. Augustus supposed people could live in all sorts of conditions, but he’d never really seen how they did, and was glad he couldn’t see that well now.
The houses were ancient, the gutters filled with filth he could hear squelching under his boots. The noises that came from the houses he passed were horrific: shrieks, babies wailing like demons, screams of laughter, and voices raised in anger. It seemed as if he was coursing through a madhouse. Those people he did see trudged with their heads down, though he was sure he was being watched and weighed and wondered about.
The district was so poor there were no torch-bearing link boys to light their way for a ha’penny, because darkness at least was free, and most of those who were out at night didn’t want to be seen anyway. There were no beggars; people here had nothing to give each other but an argument. This was a land of citizens in rags and tatters, and Augustus realized he must be attracting as much attention as an elephant, if only because he was so tall and strong and whole and neatly dressed.
He was called to now and again by ladies of the evening asking what his pleasure was. He was too polite to say, “To be far away from you.” So he only smiled and walked faster.
They only stopped once, when they were hailed by another boy. Small and snub-nosed, dressed far better than Augustus’s trio of escorts were, the lad came trotting up to them. “Hoi!” he called breathlessly. “Have you seen a cat?”
The little expedition halted.
“An orange cat,” the boy said eagerly. “Big. Big all around. Have you seen one?”
“Seen cats ’n rats all over the place,” Augustus’s leader said evasively.
“I can give you a reward,” the boy said. “Tuppence.”
The boys stared at him in stunned silence. Having no answer from them, the lad looked up at Augustus. Before he could speak the boy leading Augustus found his tongue.
“Come along sir,” he told Augustus, ignoring the question he’d been asked. “I’ll show you where your brother was when I saw him last.” He nudged his friends into motion again and they trotted down the street leaving the red-haired boy to stand and watch them vanish into the shadows.
“Huh,” puffed one of the boys, looking back over his shoulder. “Lookin’ to get in on the game, he was!”
“Aye,” their leader said. “So we’d best move smartly, and take the long way, making sure nobody’s follering, ’cause everybody’s looking now! Tuppence!” he muttered in furious scorn. “The gall! What kind of flats does he take us for?”
They came at last to a tilted door in a twisted alleyway. One of the boys kept watch at the entrance of the alley while another slipped in through a window. Their leader stayed with Augustus, looking about anxiously until the door creaked open and admitted them.
The room revealed was small and inky black until a single bullseye lantern sent a ray of light to pierce the dark with bright yellow light—which showed a pair of bright yellow eyes watching them with interest. The eyes belonged to a huge orange cat one of the boys held tight. It was a handsome cat, calm, clean and well nourished. Its orange coat, barred with white, was lustrous. It looked like a jewel winking up out of a coal bin, and seemed healthier and more intelligent than most of the people Augustus had seen tonight.
Augustus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yes,” he said. “Tell me where to meet you, how much money you expect, and how soon we can arrange the trade.”
* * *
At dawn, as the sun tried to struggle out of a long winter’s night, changing the sky from lead to white, two men left the palace. One was young, tall and muscular. The other was as tall but somewhat older and leaner, a gentleman who walked with a hitching gait.
“Sir,” Augustus said worriedly as they left the gate, “are you quite sure you don’t want a carriage?”
“Quite sure,” Lord Montrose answered with a slight smile. “Your little thieves are right to worry about losing their ill-got gains. They may believe they can get away with the money, and perhaps they can. But not if we descend on them in style. If we do, be sure, every nose in London would be sniffing them out. Clever they may be, but immortal they are not. I have no truck with thieves, but perhaps ones young as these can be redeemed. Or at least, I may find work for them myself one day.”
He saw Augustus’s expression. “Trust me, Sergeant, I’ve dealt with this sort of thing before. It’s best to keep our dealings private. We have men following us, men trained to be as swift and innocuous as shadows, because I felt it would only be prudent. But we two are the only ones to actually deal with the situation—if it goes as planned. It’s best all round if we go by foot, get the animal secured, then make our way back unobserved. Retrieving the creature is important—but so is keeping this transaction from the Queen.”
“Yes, sir,” Augustus said. He walked on, but slowed his pace.
Lord Montrose chuckled as he walked faster. “My dear Sergeant, I may not resemble a premiere dancer, but horrible as my means of locomotion looks, it doesn’t pain me to move at some speed. In fact, sometimes exercise helps. I took a ball in one leg, and that leg has an excellent memory of it, but it’s otherwise completely healed. I left my stick because I don’t wish to be easily identified this morning. I don’t always need it, be assured this morning I don’t. Thank you for your concern. Don’t worry, if I need to rest, I shall.”
They hurried on as the light increased. London was coming awake and moving. Yawning shopkeepers began to roll up their awnings and sweep out their doorways, clerks hurried to work, servants dashed about their errands, and a few gentlemen could be seen reeling homeward. Horses and wagons began to clatter over the cobbles, and barrowmen, dairy maids and street criers set out on their rounds.
As Augustus and Lord Montrose approached their destination the streets grew more crowded, and soon they were thronged, making a clamor loud as Picadilly at noon.
“I will say this for your conspirators,” Lord Montrose said with a wintry smile when he stopped and looked around. “They’re clever as they can hold together.”
He and Augustus stood and watched the bustling uproar at the docks of Billingsgate, where cats were as common as the fish being sold. There were crowds of vendors and buyers, sea captains and rivermen, fishwives, eelers, shuckers, cooks, footmen, housewives, restauranteurs and shopkeepers. They were dickering and laughing, drinking steaming cups of tea and taking fortifying swigs from bottles. They bargained as they howled jests and greetings to each other.
And everywhere there was fish. There were aisles of fish, shoals of fish, an amazing variety of fresh fish laid out for inspection—heaped in barrels, hanging from hooks, being filleted, chopped or hacked into steaks on huge butcher blocks. There with cartloads of winkles and shining black
mussels, baskets of green-bearded oysters, pails filled with clams, heaps of crabs and writhing masses of lobsters.
“I don’t see them,” Augustus said in a low voice as his eyes swept the crowd. “We’re expected to wait for them to approach us.”
“I’m sure they see us,” Lord Montrose answered calmly.
A moment later something careened into Lord Montrose’s leg, knocking him off balance. Augustus was quick, but the other man righted himself in an instant, though his mouth was drawn into a thin line against pain. But his gray eyes glinted with…excitement? Admiration? Augustus couldn’t tell because a moment later, the older man began moving, as he said low, “Follow me. The little devil’s going into that alley.”
The alley stank of fish guts and was slippery underfoot, but there was an alcove that Lord Montrose ducked into. Augustus followed, fists knotted, looking ahead and behind, ready for whatever mischief might be afoot.
When he stepped into the alcove he saw his superior holding an orange cat. No one else was there.
“Lovely beast,” Lord Montrose said as he stroked the cat.
“Is it—the one?”
“It well may be. I never saw the other closely. But we shall soon see, won’t we?”
“The boys?” Augustus asked, frowning.
“Quick as lightning. Handed over the cat soon as I showed the money.” Lord Montrose laughed. “They had to wait for that, though. They tried for my vest and trouser pockets back there. All they got was a pistol shown to them when I got here. But when I showed them the money they grabbed it and hurled this at me. Charming beast.”
He stroked one long gloved finger along the white whiskers, making the cat’s chin jut out as it pursed its lips in an absurdly satisfied way. “I may have use for the lads too,” he mused. “They show promise. Well, come along. Let’s get this fine cat back to the palace, where it can be inspected along with the others of its kind that have showed up. You’ll have to carry it back. I have enough trouble carrying myself upright.” He grimaced. “Blasted little devils, their aim was perfect. They must have seen me limping, and kicked just right. Here, hold our marmalade tiger tight,” he said as he transferred the cat.
Augustus took the solid weight of the placid cat. It felt curiously right.
* * *
A lady in waiting, a housekeeper and a lady’s maid sat at the first of the three long tables that had been carried into one of the back halls. They looked suspiciously at the line of men, women and cats waiting for their attention.
“Come along now,” Mr. Squire told those waiting. “Let the ladies have a look at your kitties. They’ve all seen the right cat, and though they are not intimate with it, they will know immediately which ones are utterly wrong. Those that pass their inspection will go to the next table where there are those who have seen it before, until at last we shall let Lord Carr and Lady Bently decide which is actually our missing feline.”
One by one those in line approached the table.
“It is astonishing how many orange cats there are in the kingdom,” Mr. Squire remarked to Lord Montrose.
“Yes,” Lord Montrose said wryly. “Though I have the feeling many of these cats may meow in other languages. The night packet from Calais must have been crowded. A few felines here may have difficulty understanding a word that’s said.”
“Fortunately,” Mr. Squire said, “it’s a cat we are dealing with. They pretend they never understand a word said to them anyway.”
The judges made swift work of it, the line of men, women and cats growing shorter by the minute. By the time the last table was reached, there were only three men bearing three cats.
They were a tall muscular young palace guard, an aged gardener, and the kennel master, looking very smug. That is, the portion of the kennel master’s face that could be seen around his bandages looked smug.
The crowd didn’t diminish. Everyone who had come with a cat was there, waiting for the final judgment. Wagering had begun.
“Yours is still in competition,” Mr. Squire remarked to Lord Montrose.
“Not mine. That is the work of our gallant Sergeant Quimby. A war hero, built like a cart horse, but with a brain and a heart. I expect good things from him.”
Mr. Squire looked impressed. “You say that? Then no doubt it is true. But that may not be the Queen’s cat, even so. Care to put a few quid on it?”
“Agreed, and a few more,” Lord Montrose said, leaning in to better hear the conversation as the first of the last three cats was put on the table.
“Stout, orange and sweet as a juicy orange, at that,” the gardener said complacently. “It’s the one, ain’t it?”
The woman at the table stared. The man offered the cat a bit of cheese, which the cat took daintily, after much sniffing.
“Fine cat,” Lord Carr said, “but not the one. Her cat never took a bite of cheese from me.”
“Agreed,” the lady said, raising her lorgnette to stare at the cat. “It is a fine cat, but not our Moggie. Ours has a little white beard.”
“Well,” the gardener said philosophically as he scooped up the cat again, “that’s how it goes. But ’tis a fine animal, and so though I’m sorry I can’t please Her Majesty, I’m that glad for me. For ’tis mine now, I believe.”
Augustus placed his cat on the table next. He stepped back, stood tall, and held his breath.
The cat settled down on its haunches as the pair judging it stared, studying it through quizzing glasses. They offered it cheese, which it refused. Augustus felt his spine tingling with excitement.
“It looks very like…” the woman said slowly.
“Very like,” the gentleman agreed.
“Hold on a bit!” the third man waiting said, shooting jealous looks at Augustus as he plunked his cat down on the table too. “Hi believe you will see that there cannot be any mistaking this one! For hi have seen Her Majesty’s cat…albeit from afar. But this is the spitting image!”
The kennel master’s cat found itself sitting on a table and it blinked. Then turned its back, and pointedly ignoring the other cat as well as all the company, lifted one plump hind leg and began licking itself in a very uncivil fashion. The lady at the table suppressed a smile and looked away. Other onlookers grinned. There was little to choose between the two cats but their positions. They both were big, orange and placid. So all eyes flew to the judges.
After a moment, the man at the table looked up at the man who had brought the cat. He frowned. “Is that you, Mr. Howatch? What’s happened to your face?”
A rosy flush appeared among all the scratches and bandages. “Yes, sir, Howatch here. Hi had to clean up the beast. Accustomed as hi am to animals, the fact his that cats do not like water. He protested. But hi consider hit blood shed in a good cause.”
“Indeed,” the man at the table said, looking thoughtful. He exchanged a glance with the woman who sat beside him. “I understood that the Queen’s cat was a singularly sweet creature.”
“But it is,” the kennel master said so quickly he dropped all his affectations. “I tested him with dogs, and he don’t mind them a jot. A charming beast, he is.”
“My cat, that is to say, the Queen’s cat, seems at home with them too,” Augustus volunteered.
“Hmm,” Lord Carr said, studying the cats again. Augustus’s entry sat like a Sphinx, front paws folded, tucked beneath its chest. The kennel keeper’s entry kept washing its private, or in its case, public parts.
“Like as a pair of orange peas in a pod,” Lord Carr said. “But,” he added with the beginnings of a smile, “unfortunately, yours was not just a figure of speech, Mr. Howatch, he is a charming fellow.”
The kennel master frowned in puzzlement.
Lord Carr stood, picked up Augustus’s cat, turning it belly up so it lay cradled in his arms, showing a white and orange bared stomach to the ceiling. The gentleman looked down at the exposed underbelly and smiled. Then he nodded to the seated lady. She nodded back at him.
“Yes,
” Lord Carr said, “we agree. This is Her Majesty’s cat, returned. Congratulations, Sergeant. It’s only too bad that we must all keep this between ourselves, for blister me if you don’t deserve another medal for this!”
“But! But!” the kennel keeper protested.
“But your cat, Mr. Howatch,” Lord Carr said, smiling at him, “is obviously a male. And our Moggie, as it happens, is not and never was. You may know dogs, but I fear you don’t know much about quests. Or cats. You might have spared yourself some pain and a great deal of trouble if you’d listened more closely, or asked questions—at least one question, in particular.”
* * *
It was an iron-cold morning. Frost glazed the grass and the air was heavy with the scent of coming snow, but most of the people on the palace grounds were grinning as though it were a May morning. Not all, though.
“Well, so they found the cat, Mr. Howatch!” a groundskeeper said as he saw the kennel master stalking by. “The Queen is said to be delighted. A relief to all of us, isn’t it?”
What the kennel master replied was short, sharp and shocking, and he didn’t add any “hs to it either.
* * *
Theo walked home in the early winter sunset, still peering down alleys, looking in bins, peeking in cellar windows, making clucking sounds in his throat, feeling like a fool but whispering, “Peaches” every so often, too.
He’d worked hard all day but earned less than usual, because each time he ran home to take care of Nibs, he lingered, looking for a sign of his cat. It might have cost him future work with Mister Carter too, because the candle maker was a man who liked to work his help from sun up to down. To make matters worse, Theo left earlier than usual because the dark drew in so fast these days, and he wanted to keep searching for Peaches.
She was nowhere to be seen. Theo walked home in dejection, wondering what to do next. When he saw the group of boys on the street corner, his heart rose. They weren’t his best friends because he couldn’t spend all his time with them. They worked at things he wouldn’t turn a hand to. If he was caught stealing he might or might not actually be hanged, but it would surely kill his sister. But they bore him no ill will, and he quite liked some of them. He ran up to the boys, but didn’t get a chance to ask them anything.
