A Lion to Guard Us

by Clyde Robert Bulla

“What?”

  “She’d lost her way, but she found it again, so she wasn’t a crosspatch anymore.”

  “Is that all the story?” he asked.

  “No. The brother and sisters lived in the city of London in the country of England. And one day— do you know what they did?”

  “What?” he said.

  “They went away. They left the city of London and the country of England. They left it all behind them.”

  He sat up. “Where did they go?”

  “They got on a big ship, and they sailed to America. They saw a town. That was Jamestown. They saw a man, and he came to meet them.”

  “Father!” said Jemmy.

  “Father,” said Meg.

  “When are we going?” asked Jemmy.

  “I don’t know yet,” said Amanda, “but we are going. We are!”

  In the morning she asked Cook, “If it please you, may I go outside?”

  “No,” said Cook. “Where?”

  “To the next street over.”

  “What’s on the next street over?”

  “It’s where the Virginia Company is.”

  “The Virginia Company? What may that be?”

  “It’s the company that sends out ships to America.”

  “And what’s that to you?”

  “Jemmy and Meg and I—we’re going,” said Amanda.

  Cook gave a snort. “And I’m going to fly to the moon!”

  “If it please you,” said Amanda, “the house is on Philpot Lane. That’s only a step away. I’ll be back in no time at all.”

  “No, you won’t,” said Cook, “because you’re not going.”

  All morning Amanda worked. She swept and scrubbed. She mixed the bread and peeled the onions.

  Toward noon, Cook shouted in her ear, “You’ve let the water pail go empty again!”

  Amanda took up the pail and ran with it. Outside the back door she looked behind her. No one was watching.

  She set the pail behind a currant bush. She picked up her skirts and went flying down the alley.

  V

  The House on Philpot Lane

  Amanda went straight to the big brick house on Philpot Lane. No one answered her knock. She tried the door, and it opened. She went into a large room where men sat at tables. They were writing, and she could hear the scratch of pens on paper.

  She chose the man with the kindest face. “If it please you,” she said, “can you tell me about the ships that sail to Virginia?”

  He kept on writing. It looked as if he were setting down figures and adding them up.

  “I was here once with my mother,” she told him. “We wanted to go to Virginia because my father is there. A man said to come back later.”

  She thought he hadn’t heard. She made ready to say it all again. But he had stopped writing.

  “Your father’s name?” he asked.

  “James Freebold.”

  He opened a book and ran his finger down the pages. “Yes, he’s here.”

  “We want to go on the next ship,” she said.

  “There will be ships going next month,” he said. “How many are you?”

  “Three.”

  “Your names?”

  “Jemmy and Meg, and I’m Amanda.”

  “Is Meg your mother?”

  “No, sir. My mother is dead. Meg is my sister.”

  “How old is your sister?”

  “Five.”

  “How old is Jemmy?”

  “Eight.”

  “But—you’re only children. You can’t go to the New World with no one to look after you.”

  “I can look after us.”

  “No, that won’t do. We might find someone to look after you on the voyage, but that would take money—”

  “I have money,” she said.

  “How much?”

  “I don’t know, but—”

  “See here, little girl, this is a busy place, and I’m a busy man.” He dipped his pen into the ink and went back to writing.

  “Please—” she began, but he didn’t speak to her or look at her again.

  She went home. The pail was still behind the currant bush. She took it to the pump and filled it.

  When she carried it into the kitchen, Cook asked, “What kept you?”

  Amanda set down the pail of water.

  “You went to that place, didn’t you?” asked Cook. “Didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Amanda.

  “Wait till I tell Mistress Trippett.”

  “I’m going to tell her myself.” Amanda started upstairs.

  Cook gave a scream. “You can’t go up the front stairs!”

  Amanda went on. She knocked at the door of Mistress Trippett’s sitting room.

  “Who is it?” came Mistress Trippett’s voice.

  “If it please you, ma’am—”

  Mistress Trippett opened the door. Her wig was off. She looked angry. “What are you doing up here?”

  “I wanted to tell you—I went to the house where the Virginia Company is.”

  “Well?”

  “There are ships going to the New World next month.”

  “Well?”

  “Jemmy and Meg and I—we’re going.”

  Mistress Trippett’s mouth was thin. “I thought you’d put that nonsense out of your head.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. We have to go where Father is.

  “Your father doesn’t want you. He forgot about you long ago.”

  “No—” began Amanda.

  “Even if he did want you, you’d be a fool to go. Virginia is a terrible place, full of wild Indians and wild beasts. All those tales about the New World and how wonderful it is—they’re lies, all lies!”

  “But we have to go—”

  “You have to do nothing of the kind. I’ve fed you and put clothes on your back. I’ve given you the best home you’ve ever had. Would you give up all this? Would you go starve in a strange land where you’d never come out alive?”

  “Father—”

  “What has your father done for you? Ask yourself that. Then ask yourself what I’ve done for you!” And Mistress Trippett slammed the door.

  VI

  Out the Door

  That evening Amanda and Ellie met in the pantry. “I heard Mistress Trippett,” said Ellie. “She doesn’t want you to go.”

  “But she knew we were going to the New World,” said Amanda. “Mother told her that when we came here.”

  “She thought you’d forget about it,” said Ellie. “She wants to keep you here. You work hard, and you don’t eat much. And Jemmy and Meg are coming on. She’ll put them to work, too, and you’ll all be working free.”

  “Oh!” said Amanda. “I forgot to ask about the money.”

  “Money?”

  “When Father went away, he sold our house. He gave the money to Mother, and she kept it in a purse. Mistress Trippett has it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Mother had it on a string around her neck. That day she fell downstairs, Cook and I put her to bed. Mistress Trippett came in, and she took the purse. She said she was keeping it for us.”

  “You’d best forget about it.”

  “It’s ours, and we need it,” said Amanda. “Jemmy and Meg and I—we need it to go on the ship.”

  “Well, you’d best take care how you ask her,” said Ellie. “She’s already upset. You’d best wait a long time.”

  “We can’t wait long. The ship sails next month.”

  But Amanda waited a week. Then she went back upstairs.

  This time Mistress Trippett let her into the sitting room. Her oldest son, Randolph, was there. He was a roly-poly man with pale, fishy eyes.

  He didn’t look at Amanda. “I’ll get my coat, Mother, and meet you downstairs,” he said, and he went out.

  Mistress Trippett was dressed for a party, in cherry-colored silk. She smiled at herself in the mirror.

  “I know why you’re here,” she said to Amanda. “You came to say you’
re sorry. You came to say you’re going to be a good girl. And if you are a good girl, I’ll forget the foolish things you said.”

  “Please, ma’am—”

  “Well?” said Mistress Trippett. “I haven’t much time.”

  “Please, ma’am,” said Amanda, “will you give me the money?”

  Mistress Trippett turned from the mirror. “What?”

  “The money you kept for us.”

  “What’s that you’re saying? The money—?”

  “It was in the little purse—around Mother’s neck.”

  Mistress Trippett’s face had gone white. “And who do you think paid the doctor? Who do you think gave you everything you have? Who do you think kept a roof over your head?”

  “But I worked, ma’am,” said Amanda, “and Mother, too, as long as she could.”

  “And now you say I stole your money!”

  “I never said that!” cried Amanda.

  But Mistress Trippett was past hearing. She picked up a book and threw it. It barely missed Amanda’s head.

  Randolph came running.

  Mistress Trippett pointed at Amanda. “Get her out of here! Get her out, before I—”

  Randolph seized Amanda and pushed her out of the room.

  She ran down into the kitchen.

  “What have you done?” asked Cook.

  “What did you say to her?” asked Ellie.

  “I only asked for the money,” said Amanda.

  Jemmy and Meg crept out from under the table.

  “Amanda—” said Jemmy, and he sounded scared.

  Randolph came down the stairs. He said to Cook, “Mother’s fainted away. Go help her.” He said to Ellie, “Run for the doctor.” He saw Amanda. “You little pig, you’re the cause of it all. Get out of this house, and take those brats with you. Get out, and don’t ever show your face here again!”

  He reached for her. He tripped over Jemmy and fell to his knees.

  Amanda heard Ellie say, “Oh, run!”

  She caught hold of Jemmy and Meg, and they ran, out the back door and into the night.

  VII

  Night People

  They went toward the lights of London Bridge. Amanda could feel her heart thumping. She had a pain in her side from running so fast.

  “Are we going over the bridge?” asked Jemmy.

  “No,” said Amanda.

  There was trouble on the bridge. Two wagons had run into each other. One had lost a wheel. The drivers had gotten out and begun to fight.

  Amanda led Jemmy and Meg away from the bridge. They saw an inn ahead. Lights shone from the windows. Jemmy pulled Amanda toward it. She pulled back. “We can’t go there.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s only for those with money.”

  They walked along the river. On the riverbank, people were sitting about small fires.

  “Who are they?” asked Jemmy.

  “People with no homes,” answered Amanda.

  “Like us,” said Jemmy.

  Some of the people were cooking. The smell of food was in the air.

  “I’m hungry,” said Jemmy.

  “You had your supper,” said Amanda.

  “I’m glad I’m not very hungry,” he said.

  They came to an old wooden pier. They walked out on it and sat down. The darkness hid them. They could hear the soft splash of the river below.

  “Will they come after us?” asked Jemmy.

  “No, unless—” A thought had come to Amanda. “Unless Mistress Trippett dies. Then they’ll say I’m to blame, and they’ll come after me.”

  “What will they do if they find you?”

  “Put me in jail.”

  “Would Meg and I go, too?”

  “No.”

  “Where would we go?”

  “Jemmy, hush.”

  “Where would we go, Amanda?”

  “You’d go to a place where you work all day and half the night. When you’re poor and don’t have anywhere else to go, that’s what you do.”

  “Meg’s too little.”

  “So are you.”

  “No, I’m not. But I don’t want to go there. I’d rather go to jail with you.”

  “We won’t be going to jail,” she said, “because they won’t catch us.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “I don’t know yet, but we’re going to stay together. Do you hear that, Jemmy? Do you hear, Meg?”

  “I hear,” he said.

  Meg said nothing. She’d said nothing since they had left Mistress Trippett’s.

  Meg was too quiet, too good. All her life she’d been pushed away into corners. Sit there, Meg. Don’t move, Meg. She’d never played like other children. She didn’t know how.

  A woman was coming slowly toward them with a lantern in her hand. She stopped at the pier, and the light shone on her face. She was very old. Her eyes looked hollow and wild.

  “Give me—give me,” she said.

  “We’ve nothing to give,” said Amanda.

  The old woman held the lantern high. She was looking at Meg.

  “It’s my little girl,” she said.

  “No,” said Amanda.

  The old woman came closer. “Don’t you know me, dear?”

  “Go away,” said Amanda.

  The old woman sat down beside them. She touched Meg’s hair. “Come, dear, I’ll take you home with me.”

  “Leave her alone!” Amanda pulled Meg away and took Jemmy’s hand.

  They left the pier. The old woman called after them, “Wait—wait!” but they didn’t stop.

  They walked back toward London Bridge. Now Amanda could see that the night people were everywhere. They were in alleys and doorways. They were part of the shadows.

  The spring night was not cold, but Amanda was shivering. Where could they go to be away from these people? Where could they go to be alone, to rest and sleep a little?

  They came to Fish Street.

  She said, “If we go back to Mistress Trippett’s—”

  “We can’t go back,” said Jemmy. “You know what Fat Randolph said.”

  “We wouldn’t go in. If we went into the garden . . . No one goes there after dark. We could hide behind the chicken coops. In the morning, before it gets light, we could be gone.”

  They walked up the street. Mistress Trippett’s house was in sight, with lights in the windows.

  There was a man in the alley beside the house. He carried a lantern. He came toward them.

  He would go by, Amanda thought. But no. He was stopping.

  She could only stand there, with Jemmy holding one of her hands and Meg the other.

  “Amanda—?” asked the man.

  She knew him then. It was Dr. Crider.

  VIII

  A Piece of Luck

  “I’ve been up and down the street looking for you,” said the doctor. “It was a piece of luck I found you. Were you coming back to Mistress Trippett’s?”

  “No, sir—not to the house,” answered Amanda. “Master Randolph put us out.”

  “So I heard,” said Dr. Crider. “And where did Master Randolph think you might go, after dark in the middle of London?”

  “We didn’t know where to go,” said Amanda. “I thought we might find a place behind the house.”

  “You’d better come with me,” he said.

  They walked together. The lantern bobbed along, lighting their way.

  “If it please you—” began Amanda.

  “Yes?”

  “Did you see Mistress Trippett tonight?”

  “I did. A girl came to fetch me. She said Mistress Trippett was in a faint.”

  “And she didn’t die?”

  “Die? Of course not. It was only a fit of temper.”

  They turned off Fish Street. They walked along a row of wooden houses. Dr. Crider stopped at one of them.

  “Where are we?” asked Jemmy.

  “I’ve brought you home with me,” said Dr. Crider.

  They went inside.
A night lamp burned in the hallway.

  The house was not poor, but neither was it fine. The rooms were small. The walls were bare.

  “Have you had supper?” asked Dr. Crider.

  “Yes, sir,” answered Amanda.

  “Then perhaps you’ll sit with me while I have mine.” He led them into the kitchen.

  They all sat at the table while he drank a mug of milk and ate a cold meat pie. Amanda looked about the kitchen. With Dr. Crider’s leave, she thought, she would sweep up the crumbs. She would polish the copper pots and pans until they shone.

  “They said you made Mistress Trippett fall in a faint,” said the doctor. “Poor Mistress Trippett, what did you do to her?”

  “I only asked for the money.”

  “What money?”

  “Father left it when he went away. Mistress Trippett was keeping it. I don’t see why I was wrong to ask for it.”

  “You weren’t wrong,” he said.

  “But we’ll never get it now, and we need it—to go to America. Ships will be going soon.”

  “How soon?”

  “Next month.”

  He had finished his supper.

  “Shall I clear the things away?” she asked.

  “No. Sit awhile.” He asked, “Is your father happy in the New World?”

  “I don’t know, sir.”

  “Doesn’t he write to you?”

  “He never learned writing or reading,” she answered. “None of us ever learned. There may be a school in Jamestown one day, and then—”

  “Jamestown,” he said. “That’s where your father is?”

  “Yes, sir.” She looked at Jemmy and Meg. They had gone to sleep, with their heads on the table. She was so tired she wanted to lay her head beside theirs.

  Dr. Crider pushed back his chair. “Time for bed,” he said.

  He gave them a room of their own. It had a bed, not just a pallet on the floor.

  “Lie down,” he said. “There—I’ll tuck you in.”

  That was the last thing Amanda remembered before she went to sleep.

  IX

  A Great World

  It was morning when she woke. Dr. Crider was in the doorway, dressed to go out.

  “I’ll be back soon,” he said. “Do you know how to make breakfast? Of course, you do. Have whatever you can find in the kitchen. I’ve already eaten.”