Sweep

by Jonathan Auxier

  Miss Bloom looked at Nan. “And if I had stayed in my home, I would never have met a curious little climbing girl who could answer riddles.”

  Nan wiped paint from her hands. “I think about that riddle sometimes,” she said. “I found a copy of it in one of the books you gave to me.” She got up and removed the book from a stack. She opened it to a page in the middle.

  Feathers and bone without and within,

  I am that and this and that once again.

  Borne aloft among the winds,

  I encircle new life within my limbs,

  I bear the seed that bears the seed—

  And by spring’s end, small mouths I’ll feed!

  What am I?

  She ran her hand along the page. “I read that on the slate, and I thought I knew the answer.”

  “I am an egg.” Miss Bloom smiled. “How could I forget?”

  “Only I’m not sure that’s the real answer.” Nan handed her the book. “When I read it now, I see a different answer. The riddle isn’t about an egg. It’s about a bird.”

  Miss Bloom’s smile deepened. She looked proud. “Perhaps it is both,” she suggested. “Perhaps we are each of us an egg that becomes a bird . . . children who become parents. When I first met you, you were a child in need of care. And now you are caring for others.”

  Nan looked over at Charlie, who was stirring in the hearth. “Nan?” he said through a yawn.

  “Yes, Charlie?”

  “Can the . . . Green Man have . . . long whiskers?”

  “Yes,” Nan said. “Go back to sleep.”

  Charlie nodded. “And a tail and . . .” His voice drifted off as he fell back to sleep.

  Nan turned back to Miss Bloom, whose eyes were still on the golem. “You’ve not said a word about him.”

  “I . . . don’t know what to say.” The woman shook her head. “What . . . ? How . . . ?”

  Nan told her everything. And not just about Charlie. About the Sweep. About the little lump of char she had carried all those years. About the chimney and the fire and the moment when Charlie first opened his little eyes.

  “I know that the Sweep left him to protect me,” Nan said. “But I also think there was some other reason—some meaning behind it all.”

  “You ask of meaning?” Miss Bloom released a deep sigh. “What does it mean for a Jewish schoolteacher who has left her faith behind to meet a golem?”

  “Do you think it’s a sign?” Nan scooted closer. “Does it make you believe in God?”

  Miss Bloom stared at Charlie for a long moment. “It makes me believe that the world is full of wonders that I can scarcely imagine. Perhaps that is the same thing.”

  “That’s the way the Sweep made me feel when I was little,” she said. “Like every day was a miracle.” She lowered her head. “Until it wasn’t.”

  “There is an old proverb from my childhood. Say not in grief ‘He is no more,’ but live in the thankfulness that he was.” She shrugged. “Easier said than done, I suppose.”

  Nan nodded. Another dark thought flitted across her mind. “Those things you told me about what happens to golems—do you know if they are going to happen to Charlie?”

  Miss Bloom looked at her for a long moment. “You should rest,” she said, standing. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

  Nan got up. She could have gone up to her bed, but instead she walked to the hearth and curled up beside Charlie—his warmth covering her like a blanket. Whittles was on one side, Shilling-Tom on the other. Dent nestled himself under her chin. Somewhere near Charlie’s feet, Toby snored softly. Nan yawned and closed her eyes and soon felt herself drifting off to sleep.

  That night they all dreamed of the Sweep.

  COURAGE

  The girl woke to the sound of her own cries. It was the middle of the night. She and the Sweep had hidden themselves in a barn. The smell of warm dung and hay filled the darkness.

  “Did you have the dream again?” the Sweep asked. His voice was thick with sleep.

  The girl nodded. “I dreamed the charity men got me.” Her heart was still pounding.

  Some weeks before, she and the Sweep had passed through a village where they met some charity men. The men had tried to take the girl away from the Sweep. They wanted to put her into something called an orphanage. The men had grabbed the girl and locked her in a carriage. She had kicked out a loose board from the roof and climbed out to escape.

  The Sweep put his arm around her, and she drew herself close to him. “You’re safe here,” he told her. “They’re a hundred miles away.”

  “But what if they follow us?” The girl picked at a hole in his sleeve. “What if they put me in a wagon?”

  “Then you will escape—you will fly free like a little sparrow.” He stifled a yawn. “That is what sparrows do.” He sounded tired. The girl wondered if he had been in the middle of his own dream. She wondered if he wished she had let him sleep instead of making him talk.

  “I’m afraid to close my eyes. I don’t want to see them again.” She wiped her nose. “I wish I were like you. I wish I could be courageous and never afraid.”

  The Sweep sat up. Strands of hay stuck to his hair. “Who says I’m never afraid? Of course I’m afraid. You can’t have courage without fear, any more than you can have a ray of light without shadows.” He sounded much more awake now. “Some things are frightening, and only a fool wouldn’t be afraid of them.” He scratched the back of his head. The girl wondered if he was thinking about the charity men, too. “Courage is feeling fear and facing it head-on.”

  The girl swallowed. She wanted to be brave, she really did. “But what if I can’t face it?”

  The Sweep reached into his pocket. “I have something for you.” He pressed a small wooden object into her hand. It was a chessman in the shape of a horse. The girl knew this sort was called a knight. “You hold on to that while you sleep.”

  “Is it a magic chessman?” The girl ran her thumb over the cracked base. It did not seem very magical. “Will the brave knight fight the charity men in my dreams?”

  “It’s not magic. It’s a reminder.” The Sweep mussed her hair. “The brave knight is YOU. And YOU can fight them for yourself.”

  MAY DAY

  The sky above London was crisp and blue—a perfect day for celebration. Already thousands of Londoners were in the streets, with flowers and coal pies and lucky pennies to throw to the climbers when they marched by.

  Nan had forgotten just how many climbers there were in London—thousands upon thousands of small children, all dressed in black coats. Normally they would all be wearing clean clothes and flower garlands, but it had been decided that they should dress as they always did. She was shocked at just how young most of them were. She looked out over the sea of hungry faces and wondered how many of them would still be alive a year from now.

  She could hear music in the distance. Market girls were throwing flower petals along the path. Jugglers and clowns danced alongside them. The big finish to the parade would be the march of the sweeps. And what a finish it would be.

  Most of the master sweeps were already deep in their cups, enjoying free drinks in public houses all across the city. Masters never bothered to march in the actual parade. As with all other matters, they left the work to the climbers.

  The May Day parade followed the path of the Great Fire, but in reverse. The parade started at the Golden Boy of Pye Corner in Smithfield and went across the city, ending at the Matchstick on Pudding Lane. Miss Bloom passed out the signs that she and Nan had made the night before. “Make sure to keep them hidden under your coats until we reach the memorial.”

  It had been decided that Charlie would remain at the back of the group, where he could keep an eye out for trouble. To prevent anyone from seeing him, they gave him a disguise.

  The Green Man, also called “Jack-in-the-Green,” was an ancient May Day tradition. The Green Man always marched with sweeps—it was a union as old as fire and smoke. Usually it was an hon
or given to one of the senior climbers to dress up as the Green Man and walk on stilts and shout silly rhymes at the crowd. But on this May Day, the Green Man would be Charlie.

  “Do I look very green?” Charlie asked. A small climber named Shins had stayed up all night making his costume.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if Dent tries to build a nest in your ear.”

  “I do not have an ear,” Charlie said.

  Nan fought back a yawn and steadied herself on Charlie’s leafy shoulder.

  “Did you sleep last night?” he asked.

  “Barely,” Nan said. “My head was too full of too many things.” She had dreamed of the Sweep again—it was about a memory she had forgotten from when she was very small. It was about being frightened. It was about courage. “In less than an hour, the march will be over, and then we can sleep as long as we want.”

  “We could have a napping party.” Charlie loved napping parties. “Just you and me.”

  “Just you and me.” Nan knotted a vine around his shoulder.

  “And Dent.”

  “And Dent.” Nan wedged some loose branches under his armpit.

  “And Toby.”

  “Never,” Nan said, but she smiled to show she was teasing.

  “Just one last piece.” Shins held up a leafy mask with two holes for eyes. He had attached forked branches to either side of the brow.

  “Let me.” Nan stood on her toes and slid the mask over Charlie’s head. She stepped back and smiled. “Would you look at that!”

  “Would I look at what?” Charlie asked her. He tried to see his forehead.

  “You finally got antlers,” said Nan.

  “Did I?” Charlie touched the antlers gently. “Maybe I am a questing beast after all.”

  Nan laughed, but then she felt the laugh catch in her throat. She remembered how small Charlie had been when he had made his body.

  It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  She looked over her shoulder. A few of the bigger boys from Finn O’Gready’s crew were watching the perimeter for any trouble.

  Charlie shifted his feet. “Do you think we will see Crudd today?”

  Nan shrugged. “We might. But I’ll stay hidden in the middle of the march. And I’ll have you to protect me. Everything will be fine. I promise.”

  “There are a lot of people here. What if I can’t see you?” He pushed at his mask, and Nan wondered how well he could see through those little holes.

  “See that golden torch?” She pointed toward the east, at the flame of the Matchstick. “That’s where we’re going. So long as you move in that direction, you’ll be fine.”

  Miss Bloom appeared behind her. “It’s time,” she said softly.

  Charlie liked being the Green Man.

  The climbers had woven a cape for him that went all the way around his body. The Green Man’s mask had enormous, leafy whiskers that went nearly to the ground—longer than Father Christmas’s. Whenever Charlie moved, he could hear all the leaves and branches and vines swish, swish against one another.

  It was a nice, green sound.

  He was standing beside a little gold statue on a place called Pie Corner. He had been looking for pie all morning. All around him were boys and girls he did not know. They were dressed in black coats, with black hats and black brooms, just like Nan.

  Charlie had never seen a parade before. When Nan told him what it was, he worried that it might be frightening, like Bonfire Night. She promised him that this would be different.

  He rocked back and forth. His cloak tickled him where it touched his sides. He tried to imagine what all the other people in the crowd would say when he walked past them. Look at that Green Man, they would say. He’s a man just like us. Only very green.

  Charlie peered across the square. He could not see very well through his mask. He wanted to see Nan. She was somewhere on the other side of the street.

  “Do you know Nan?” he said to a maybe-girl beside him. But the girl did not answer. Most of the climbers were not looking at him. He could tell they were afraid of him, even though Nan had told them that he was nice.

  Charlie faced the warm sun. In the hazy distance he saw the pointy top of a golden tower. Nan had called that the Matchstick. He did not understand why it was called that. Beyond the tower, he could hear the bells. He always heard the bells, no matter where he was. He wished he could hear them better. He knew they had something important to tell him. Soon it will be time, he thought. Soon.

  “Thank goodness I found you!” said a voice.

  Charlie turned around. There was a boy right next to him. He was dressed like all the others, but he was a little taller. He had a scarf over his chin and a cap pulled low over his eyes.

  “Hello,” Charlie said. “I am the Green Man.”

  “You have to come with me,” the boy said. He took Charlie’s hand and tried to lead him away, but Charlie did not move.

  “The Green Man is supposed to stay in the back of the parade,” Charlie explained. “That is my job.” He was very proud to have a job.

  “I know that,” the boy said. “But this is a new job. Nan told me to give it to you right away.”

  “You know Nan?” Charlie said. This made him feel better. “What is my new job?”

  “She found a gang of climbers—little boys and little girls—who need your help. They’re stuck inside a boat at the docks.”

  “Oh, yes.” Charlie knew that a boat was a house that floated on water. “Can the boys and girls swim? Nan says she will teach me to swim someday.”

  “They’re stuck. Their master learned about the march and locked ’em inside. Nan needs you to bust them out before the march starts. They’re trapped in there with no food or water. And big hungry rats.” The boy grabbed Charlie’s arm. “You have to save them!”

  Charlie looked back at the crowd. He wished he could see Nan. “Are you sure she wants me to go?”

  “I told you—it was her idea.” The boy stepped back. “Think how disappointed she’ll be if I tell her you wouldn’t do your new job.”

  Charlie had not considered this.

  Nan followed Miss Bloom to a side alley, where Toby, Shilling-Tom, and Whittles were waiting. Lying on the ground was a pine box.

  Not a box, Nan thought to herself. A coffin. “It’s so small,” she said.

  Toby knelt next to it. He patted the lid. “I had an old pal out in Stockwell who gave me a fair price—one shilling exactly.” He winked up at Shilling-Tom, whose face beamed with pride.

  It was plain but well crafted. It certainly cost more than a shilling. Nan wondered how much Toby had traded out of his emporium to make up the remainder of the cost. Nan knelt and touched the lid. “Newt? He’s inside there?”

  “William is still at London Hospital,” Miss Bloom said. “Once the march is through, we’ll transport it there and then take him to Highgate Cemetery. Lady Wilde has insisted we give him a proper burial.”

  Nan stood. “Tell Lady Wilde thank you. From all of us.”

  “I have to get to the friendly society,” Miss Bloom said. “Remember, don’t let anyone see the signs until you reach the monument. We can’t afford anyone interrupting your progress.”

  They all knew what she was talking about. The moment the master sweeps realized what the climbers were doing, there would be trouble.

  Nan looked to the east. “He’s out there,” she whispered. “Waiting for me.”

  “That’s what the Green Man’s for.” Toby nodded toward the back of the crowd. Charlie was talking to someone—Nan couldn’t quite tell who. “Plus, Crudd won’t even be able to see you. One face in a crowd of thousands. Stay in the middle, keep your head down, and you’ll be fine.”

  “I don’t suppose you got a bag I can put over my head?” Nan tried to smooth down her hair, which had grown long and unruly in recent months.

  “I brought you this.” Toby opened his emporium and removed the Sweep’s hat. Nan hadn’t touched it since it had burned in the fire. “I
tried my best to rebuild the brim and patch the crown. Not exactly good as new, but at least it’ll keep your head warm.”

  Nan supposed she should have been angry at Toby for stealing the Sweep’s hat, but she wasn’t. “You did a fine job.” She tried the hat on and found that it fit perfectly atop her head. “It’s heavier than I remember.”

  “I had to rebuild the crown with steel rods,” Toby said. “You could jump right on top of that thing. Not that you’d want to.”

  St. Paul’s and a dozen more churches struck eight o’clock. From this elevation, Nan could hear half the bells in the city. Somewhere, far in the distance, she thought she could even hear the bells of St. Florian.

  Whittles jumped atop a barrel and raised his broom. “Brooms up!”

  “BROOMS UP!” came back a thousand voices. Brooms went up all across the square, a forest of little black trees.

  It was time. Nan pushed her fists into her pocket. She could feel a buzzing in her stomach, the feeling she had whenever she had to jump across a gap between rooftops. “You know, none of this would have happened if it weren’t for that talk you gave me about Isaac Ware,” she said to Toby.

  Toby cocked his eyebrow. “Suppose that’s as close to a thank-you as I’m likely to get.”

  “Nan!”

  There was a murmur close by as Shins pushed through the crowd at a full sprint.

  “What is it?” Nan said.

  “It’s . . . Charlie . . . ,” Shins said between gasps. “He’s gone.”

  ADRIFT

  Charlie followed the boy down a narrow alley. They were moving away from the giant golden matchstick that Nan had shown him. He tried to glance back to make sure he could still see it, but it was difficult with his mask on.

  “This way!” the boy called. He was nearly around the corner.

  Charlie had trouble running, and it was difficult to keep the direction in his mind. He turned another corner and then another. These streets were twisty and strange. He wasn’t sure he could find his way back. “The parade is going to start soon,” he called out, adjusting his mask, trying to see. “Is it very much farther?”