Felix Jones and The Honour of The Keeper (Felix Jones Adventures Book 2)

by Julian Roderick

  “You won’t see that where you’re going!” laughed the hunter.

  They came to the edge of the forest. There before them was the magnificent site of the red brick building sitting in the summer sun next to the shimmering river. Large ceremonial barges were moored along piers and the grounds were a hive of activity. Servants and courtiers prepared for the return of Henry VIII’s hunting party. The boys were shoved unceremoniously round the back of the palace and down a flight of steep stone steps into the darkness of the dungeons.

  8

  Felix and Tom were thrown into a cell. The creaking metal gate slammed behind them and was locked shut. The hunter walked to the end of the corridor and left their swords with the dungeon guard.

  The cell was tiny.

  “Where are the beds?” asked Tom. “And where are the loos?”

  “This cell stinks of pee!” exclaimed Felix. “I think we have to go in here and sleep next to it.”

  “That’s disgusting!” cried Tom. “Cross your legs. I’m not sleeping in your mess.”

  “If we had the textbook we could get our swords and get out of here,” said Felix with a wry smile.

  A flickering candle in the corridor cast a dim light as Felix took the Book out of his blazer pocket.

  “What do I do next?” he asked the Book. The cryptic answer appeared on the second page:

  ‘Use what you know already’

  Felix thought for a moment and turned to the map on page one. To his surprise five red swords had appeared in and around the palace. Tom’s marker sat alone. The Guardians were there ready for the fight. He told Tom what the Book had revealed.

  “There must be another Keeper close by,” said Tom with a smile. “I wonder if I appear on his map.”

  “We can hope,” said Felix, “and we can hope he comes and gets us out of here.”

  Felix opened the Book to the lists of Keepers. There at the bottom of one list was his name. On the other list the last name read:

  Arthur Fletcher 1530 – present

  “His name is Arthur, I hope he is a knight and good with a sword,” said Felix.

  “Let’s try and rest, we may need to be fully awake if anything happens.” Tom was doing his best to comfort his companion.

  The pair curled up on the cold, hard, straw strewn floor of their prison cell and fell asleep.

  A deafening explosion woke the sleeping captives. The sounds of panic echoed down the corridor from the palace above.

  “The Brethren!” exclaimed the boys together.

  “We have to get out of here,” whispered Felix. Tom was running and barging the door to the cell with little effect.

  “Think!” screamed Felix. Tom smiled and strode purposefully towards the metal barrier stopping their escape.

  “Pirates of The Caribbean,” laughed Tom. “Just lever the door off the hinges.”

  “With what?” Felix asked.

  Desperately, they looked around. Tom pointed at a small wooden bench in the next room. He took off his belt and pulled his school tie out of his trouser pocket. He made a make shift lasso and with a bit of good luck hooked it round the end of the seat. Tom pulled it hard against the barred wall between the cells. The bench shattered into pieces. Felix reached through and grabbed the largest bit of wood he could see. He wedged the plank under the door and both boys pushed down with all their strength. The wood lifted the door upwards and in a matter of seconds the gate fell into the corridor.

  “I never thought that would work!” laughed Tom as he ran down the corridor to get the swords. The boys knew that if the Brethren were in the palace they needed to get out in the open in order to stand any chance of defeating them. They climbed the stairs into the courtyard. They stopped dead in their tracks as a familiar voice rang out across the palace.

  “The Keeper, Arthur Fletcher where are you?” asked the low, gravelly call of the Brethren monks.

  9

  Felix opened the Book. All the red swords that marked the Guardians formed a semi-circle in the corner of a long room. Felix and Tom hid behind a large plant pot as the Brethren strode past them. The sight of the four half skeleton, half human monsters filled the boys with dread. They knew that beneath the long brown leather coats were their large weapons that usually brought death to the Guardians.

  “Stay here,” whispered Felix, “they’re not after us.”

  “I have to protect The Keeper!” pleaded Tom. “There are no rules about in which time.”

  Felix knew he had to follow the creatures and join the upcoming battle. Firstly because he knew he could not stop Tom from going, and secondly because he knew as he was here he had the only weapon that could kill them.

  “If two Keepers are in the same place only the future Keeper can use the sword,” Tom declared as memories of Paris returned. He looked towards Felix who had already started to make his way into the open space of the courtyard.

  The four Brethren monks demolished the thick oak door in front of them. The next sound the boys heard was the clash of swords. The boys ran into a large hall. The walls were covered in oak panels. Large tapestries of hunting scenes hung from ceiling to floor. At the far end of the room a group of men were battling with the monks. Behind them stood a small man dressed as a Court Jester. Henry VIII and his dinner guests sat around a long table watching the sword fight. They clapped and cheered thinking it was part of the evening’s entertainment.

  Felix and Tom jumped on to the wooden table and ran to the other end of the Great Hall kicking food, pots and goblets everywhere. Felix drew his broadsword and dived onto the back of a Brethren monk. Tom joined the other Guardians in their defensive ring. The Jester smiled at Felix, who winked back. The Brethren retreated and formed their usual line of four. The Guardians regrouped ready for the attack.

  “Are you a Keeper?” the Jester asked Felix.

  “Yep, from the twenty first century here to save the day,” Felix replied. “You stay here and leave it to us.”

  The Brethren charged. The Guardians fought bravely against a foe they knew they could not kill. Felix knew he had to act quickly if none of the Guardians were going to die at the hands of their old enemy. He pushed Tom out of the way and lunged at one of the monks. His blade missed and the monk turned and smacked him to the floor. As the creature’s blade was about to be thrust into Felix’s back one of the Guardians, a soldier, dived on top of Felix to take the blow. Felix was angry with himself because a Guardian had died due to his stupidity.

  “Remember the lessons from Jack in Paris,” he whispered to himself. “Defend until the opportunity comes.”

  He joined the Guardian’s formation and fended off the Brethren’s blows. Tom was trying to push one of the monks over towards the wall. Once there he cut the ropes holding up the tapestry, which fell onto the monk causing him to flap around like a trapped bird. Felix pounced and plunged his sword into the tapestry. The shape stopped moving and the tapestry fell flat to the floor.

  “One pile of bones,” shouted Felix. “Three to go!”

  The Guardians were fighting bravely but three of them lay dead on the blood soaked stone floor. Only Tom and two others remained. Felix vowed no more would die as he engaged two of the Brethren at once. Their swords swung high and low with great force but Felix was angry. He had found extra strength from somewhere, maybe all the fencing lessons and weight training were paying off. He defended each blow, waiting for his chance. One of them missed a lunge at Felix’s leg and stumbled forward. Felix drove his blade home, another pile of bones lay on the floor. As he rose up he swung the broadsword and caught the other monk across the chest. Moments later his skin and muscle had melted and he was just bones.

  The last monk looked mad as he ran full speed at Felix. Tom stuck out his foot and tripped the monster. As it fell Felix knelt and the monk fell straight onto the Keeper’s sword. The boys collapsed onto their backs, totally out of breath. A roar of approval rose from the audience who did not have a clue what was going on. The Guardian
s were kneeling as Henry VIII walked across kicking the Brethren bones across the hall.

  “Kneel quickly,” Felix ordered. The pair sprang up and bowed their heads before The King.

  “What sorcery have we just witnessed?” the imposing monarch boomed.

  The Jester, Arthur Fletcher, replied, “These are magicians from France, Your Majesty. The likes of which have never been seen in England before.”

  “Illusion of the highest order,” the King said in perfect French.

  “Thank you, Your Majesty, we are happy to entertain the most powerful man in the world,” said Felix hoping that what came out of his mouth was French.

  “Yes, yes,” waved Henry. “How did you turn the monsters into bones?”

  “Magic, Your Majesty,” said Felix. “We cannot reveal our secrets.”

  “Quite right, magnificent performance. You may leave,” said a stern looking King Henry. “Before you go repair the tapestry, it is my favourite.”

  Tom felt a lump developing in his throat. Felix went white.

  “We shall in the morning, Your Majesty,” said Arthur as he ushered the Guardians and Felix towards the exit, bowing madly as he went. The King turned back towards his dinner guests and began a final round of applause for the unexpected magicians.

  “What now?” Tom asked. “You any good at sewing?”

  Felix laughed and turned to Arthur to introduce himself. They made their way across the courtyard towards the servants’ quarters. In the kitchens they were greeted by a plump cook who handed them a large chunk of chicken and a goblet of frothing liquid. They all sat at a small wooden table and Felix explained how they had got to 1536.

  “Cutlery?” asked Tom, waiting expectantly to begin his meal.

  “None of that in 1536,” said Felix as he ripped into the juicy meat with his hands. “Just tuck in.”

  “You haven’t read the rules have you?” said Arthur smiling.

  “Yes,” replied Felix.

  “So you know you can’t use the Book for personal gain then?” added The 1536 Keeper.

  “The test!” yawned Tom. “The flaming book knows we are cheating!”

  “We should retire to bed,” suggested the boys’ host. “We have a tapestry to fix in the morning!”

  Arthur lit a wicker torch and led the weary pair through a maze of corridors. After climbing many narrow flights of dark stairs they reached a small room which housed two tiny cot beds. They climbed in, pulled the woollen blankets over their aching bodies, and fell into a deep sleep.

  10

  It was a glorious day. The beams of sunlight blinded Felix as he opened his eyes. He shook Tom who was less than happy to have to leave his comfortable bed.

  “You got your sewing kit ready?” asked Tom remembering the previous evening’s events.

  “I’d hoped the King would have been so drunk that he might forget,” replied Felix, “they must have had a load of beer to think that was a show!”

  There was a gentle knock on the door and in walked Arthur. He gave his visitors some bread and water to keep them going.

  “All sorted,” he winked. “The tapestry is fixed.”

  “You get up early to sew,” laughed Tom.

  “I’ve been back in time to the people who made it, they had made two so I brought back the other one. It’s hung back in the Great Hall.” said Arthur proudly.

  “Do you always wear that Jester’s costume?” asked Tom.

  “His Majesty demands entertainment at all sorts of times so I have to be ready,” came the reply, as he led his visitors down to the courtyard. Courtiers and servants were scampering back and forth. “What’s going on?” Arthur asked one of the young kitchen maids.

  “His Majesty is in a rage! He is really upset,” said the red faced girl.

  “Come on, let’s get out of here,” commanded Arthur.

  They made their way down to the river and sat on the bank. To their right next to a bridge two old women watched a small toddler with shocking red hair running around picking flowers.

  “That must be Queen Elizabeth,” explained Felix.

  “She’s not that old is she?” asked Tom.

  “You really are a numpty, Queen Elizabeth the First you muppet!” laughed Felix.

  “So which one of his wives is he with now?” asked Tom.

  “He’s preparing for his third, Ann Boleyn was sentenced to death two days ago. She’s in the Tower of London awaiting her fate. Jane Seymour has been sent away until the head’s in the basket.” explained Arthur.

  “We need to get to the Tower in two days to get home,” said Felix.

  “I’ll get you there somehow,” smiled Arthur.

  The serenity of the river scene was disturbed as a small servant boy screamed, “Arthur, The King wants you and the magicians now!”

  “Come on, quickly,” cried Arthur. “We can’t keep him waiting.”

  They ran as fast as they could to the Great Hall. They tidied themselves up before they entered, checking that their swords were hidden under their blazers.

  “Sorcery!” screamed Henry VIII. “How can this be perfect?” he asked pointing at the tapestry.

  “Your Majesty,” said Felix. “Last night was an illusion that everything was damaged.”

  “I checked it when I woke this morning and it was ripped,” bellowed the angry monarch. “How can it be intact now?”

  “Magic, Your Majesty,” said Felix.

  “This magic is unnatural, it is witchcraft. Take them to the Tower. They are to be executed at noon the day after tomorrow!” ordered the King.

  “At least we get to the Tower!” quipped Tom.

  “For once, just shut up,” whispered Felix. “We may never find our way home if we’re locked up.”

  Felix and Tom were hauled out of the Great Hall by four hefty soldiers and bundled onto a small wooden boat. One soldier gave a shout as he discovered Felix’s hidden sword. A quick inspection revealed Tom’s weapon.

  “Only nobles are permitted to carry swords like these!” the first soldier cried. “And you are not dressed like any noble I have seen.”

  “We have just arrived from the… uhh… Low Countries?” Felix replied nervously, hoping that they were not at war with England right then.

  “Oh! That explains it,” said the soldier, rolling his eyes. “We will have to take your weapons from you young sirs.”

  Reluctantly, the boys handed over their weapons and sat sulkily in the boat. The soldiers climbed in and handed their captives the oars.

  “Great” said Tom. “Not only are we going to our death but we have to row there too.”

  The boys had a pair of oars each. They pulled back and the boat moved in the water. Much to the boatmen on the rivers amusement the rowing boat went round in circles. The guards got so fed up with the boys’ lack of skill that they grabbed the oars and pushed their prisoners to the front of the boat and guided the boat expertly down river.

  The river was a busy place in 1536. Goods were transported to and from many places along the Thames. Their small boat weaved in and out of fully laden barges. As they neared the centre of London the banks became busier. Wooden houses lined the river interspersed with industry where people of all ages worked to manufacture the goods being traded. The river wormed its way through this growing city. The boat rounded a bend and there, to their left, sat the imposing stone walls of The Tower of London. The guards carefully avoided the wooden markers that led to a small archway.

  “Traitors Gate,” whispered Felix. “Nobody comes back out of here.”

  They passed through and up a small canal to a stone wharf. Felix looked up.

  “There’s our home for the next two days,” he said looking up at the building behind them.

  “Hope it’s comfier than the last prison we were in,” smiled Tom.

  They were led in through a tiny wooden door and up a winding stone staircase to a large room. The walls were bare but there was a single bed against one wall and a window giving them
a view of a courtyard.

  “You will be comfortable here,” said the guard. “The maids will bring food later.”

  Tom looked out of the window and saw that at the far end of the open space was a stage. On the stage was a chopping block. Tom gulped and pointed. Felix shrugged his shoulders and slumped onto the bed.

  “The object we need to look for is in the courtyard,” said Felix looking at the Book.

  “The only thing out there at the moment is that block,” shuddered Tom.

  Trying to reassure his worried friend, Felix whispered, “It will be there at noon the day after tomorrow.”

  “Just as our bonces fill the basket!” laughed Tom.

  A knock on the door startled the boys. In walked a jolly old lady with a tray full of lovely smelling food. Chunks of meat and bread accompanied vegetables and a jug of water.

  “We feed condemned men well here!” she chortled as she left.

  The hungry pair devoured the meal in no time. The sun ducked below the walls of their prison and the room became dark. They jumped into bed, top to tail. Tom promised not to fart and wished Felix good night. Tom was asleep in seconds. Felix lay worrying that they may not find the object easily, and would they be together? If they weren’t he would have to stay to try and save Tom. With his brain addled he drifted off into a deep sleep.

  11

  The boys were awakened by a loud knock on their door. It was the jolly old lady again dressed in the same long black dress with a white ruff. She had a tray of bread and water in her hands.

  “Good morning!” she beamed. “The guards will be coming for you in an hour.”

  “Why?” said a worried Felix. “We don’t die until tomorrow!”

  She laughed as she left their room.

  An hour later the guards arrived and guided the boys out into the courtyard. They couldn’t take their eyes off the chopping block. It was stained with blood. A tall thin man with a scar on his cheek walked over to them. He was built like the Hulk and had long, scraggy, brown hair. He bent down to talk to them.