Charlie Watts and the Rip in Time

by Marcus Anthony (UK) Eden-Ellis

  He had spoken to several other people whose names he either did not know or who he thought would have no impact on his life here. He also pondered the fact that he was sleeping in the very same castle as the King of England. He realised that he was amongst the lowliest of the inhabitants of the castle, as he had seen no noblemen or women yet. He knew that there were four floors to the castle and that he had only seen the first two. The king and his courtiers and the Earl of Sherebrook and his family would be on the two upper floors. He would love to be able to take a look around up there, perhaps he would ask Sir Geoffrey if that would be possible. Perhaps, as Sir Geoffrey’s squire, he would be able to attend any business the knight may have on those upper floors. He would love to see a king.

  “Finished?” barked Tom Cook and he startled Charlie away from his thoughts and back to matters at hand.

  “Yes. Thank you very much,” replied Charlie. “By the way Tom, how do you clean armour?”

  FIFTEEN

  Charlie had cleaned the armour with some wax-like substance that Tom had given to him and polished it off with a piece of sacking. Soon after he had finished Sir Geoffrey had come to find him, as he said he would. The knight asked him how he had slept and then gave him a list of tasks, which, in truth, Charlie did not find particularly taxing. They mostly involved ensuring that his room was tidy, that his belongings were all stored together, that his quarters were clear of old food and that replacement food was provided. The one downside was the emptying of Sir Geoffrey’s toilet pail. This appalled Charlie but when he went over to it he saw that it had a lid on that he had not seen the previous day. That made it a less objectionable task. He did not know where to empty it so carried it down to the courtyard and asked. He was directed to a series of steps behind the keep which eventually brought him to the battlements at the top of the outer wall of the castle. It was here that he tipped the pail over the wall where the contents landed in the moat sixty feet below.

  Another task, that Sir Geoffrey had given Charlie, was to walk down to see Rufus and to ask the head groom how the horse fared. This Charlie was delighted to do, as it would give him a chance to speak to Martin, the friend he had made upon his arrival at the castle. Sir Geoffrey informed Charlie that he would first be walking the battlements and talking to the men at arms and then he would be meeting with the Earl to discuss castle security arrangements for the forthcoming visit of Matilda, the king’s cousin. If he needed Charlie, he would come and find him or send a messenger. Charlie had been surprised when Sir Geoffrey had ruffled his hair as he had set off to do the various tasks. He realised that this was probably not knight/squire behaviour but he also realised that Sir

  Geoffrey had warmed to him much since they had first met on the road yesterday and he too was pleased he had met Sir Geoffrey.

  SIXTEEN

  “Hello Charlie Watts,” said Martin the Groom as Charlie walked up to the stables.

  “Hello Martin,” said Charlie, smiling.

  “How did you fare in your first night at Sherebrook?”

  “Oh, well enough, thank you,” replied Charlie, “How is Rufus this morning?”

  “See for yourself,” said Martin, gesturing to the stall where Rufus was tethered. Rufus was looking magnificent as usual and seemed perfectly content, swishing his generous tail and occasionally shaking his head to free himself from the flies that kept gathering around the corners of his eyes. Charlie moved toward Rufus and the horse let out a soft neighing sound of recognition and moved, as far as his tether would allow him, towards Charlie. Charlie, who had no particular affinity for horses, was moved to run his hands down Rufus’ long face and he reached up to pat him on the neck.

  “Here, give him this,” said Martin who lobbed a small green apple over to Charlie. He caught it and held it out to Rufus on the flat of his upturned palm. The horse took it gently from Charlie’s hand in one mouthful and munched gratefully on it. Then he nuzzled Charlie’s neck.

  “I guess that I can count you as friend as well huh?” Charlie whispered to the horse and, as if in some kind of acknowledgement, Rufus nodded up and down vigorously and let out a snort.

  Charlie reached up and gave him another pat and then turned back to Martin who had started grooming another horse. This horse was white with black patches and seemed even bigger than Rufus, if that was possible.

  “This, Charlie Watts, is the King’s horse. His name is Challenger and next to Rufus he is the most magnificent horse I have ever seen.”

  “He is a beautiful animal,” agreed Charlie and offered to help Martin groom him. He took one of the brushes that were hanging on the wall at the rear of the stall and started to brush Challenger from the opposite side.

  “This is the first time that you have been in a castle, is it not, Charlie Watts?” asked Martin conversationally

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “I should say so,” laughed Martin. “I have never encountered someone who is more ignorant of the way of things. Where did you say your village is?”

  “Putney,” said Charlie.

  “Ah yes. I cannot claim to have heard of it but if they are all like you, Charlie Watts, then it must be a very interesting place to live.”

  “I like to think so.”

  “You see, in a castle like this, it may seem that everyone just lives along side one another but there are strict rules that apply to everyone’s behaviour. Each person knows his place. Sometimes I get the impression, Charlie, that you have no understanding of this.”

  “Well, you would be right Martin. Perhaps you could give me lessons in what is right and proper and how to tell what is wrong. I would not like to make a mistake and embarrass Sir Geoffrey.”

  Martin let out another laugh and said, “I think you have done nothing but embarrass the old man since you arrived! But everyone likes Sir Geoffrey and I think that you will find them very forgiving toward his novice squire.” Martin thought for a second and then continued, “You see Charlie Watts, it works like this, first there is the Lord, that is my Lord Robert Baldock the Earl of Sherebrook. This is his castle and he lives here with his wife, Lady Maud, and two daughters, Lady Ethelwynn and Lady Esther. If you look up there, to the very top windows of the keep building, you will see their living rooms.” Martin pointed to the spot he was talking about and Charlie followed with his eyes.

  “I see,” said Charlie, resettling his glasses.

  “Also, the Earl has advisors and house keepers. They live on that floor as well. Then we have the knights in attendance; the Earl can call on about fifty knights from manors around the county and they, in turn, can bring

  men at arms-soldiers who will fight for their Lord. The Earl pledges his support to the king and, therefore, the King grants him favours, rights and lands. Some knights stay here at the castle and their men are camped within the castle walls but they come and go as they please, returning to their manors to ensure that all is well with their families. Your lord, Sir Geoffrey is the captain of the castle guard and, as such, is in charge of the security of the castle. All the other knights, and men at arms, report to him. He has been gone for six weeks, attending to his manor in Bagshotte, but he has returned now to ensure that everything is in place for the visit of Matilda in a few days.”

  “Yes I heard him mention Matilda this morning, who is she and why is she coming here.”

  “My word Charlie, you really do not know anything do you? Matilda is the cousin of the King but claims the throne for herself, as some believe she is entitled to. The old King Henry was her father and he wished that she should inherit the throne, so people say. But Stephen claimed it before her and quite a few people were relieved because, by all accounts, she is not a good person and would make a terrible ruler. King Stephen has the support of the church and most of the powerful barons so his position as king is safe.”

  “So why is she coming here?” asked
Charlie, having stopped grooming Challenger and listening intently to Martin.

  “Well, I don’t rightly know, but the talk is of a truce. You see, King Stephen and Matilda have been waging war and she has her own army and also the support of her half brother Robert, the Earl of Gloucester. Neither Matilda nor the king appears to have any real prospect of winning a decisive victory as they are evenly matched. So a truce has been called and everyone expects them to come to an agreement. Sherebrook castle has been decided as the place for them to meet.”

  “You seem to be very well informed for a groom. Where do you get your information from?”

  Martin laughed again, “Ah well perhaps I should not say, but in truth, my father tells me everything. He is Thomas Thomasson, the keeper of the castle armoury. Sir Geoffrey discusses everything with him and he keeps me informed of the main things so that I should be well informed, as you put it. I do not think, for a moment, that he tells me anything that is

  of a secret nature though. There is nothing that I have told you that is not common gossip amongst the more clever villagers.”

  Charlie remembered the huge man with the whole cooked chicken in his hand that had met them yesterday. He had not seen since. There seemed no family resemblance between Thomas and Martin but they certainly seemed to share their good humour.

  Martin returned to telling Charlie about the castle. “The next floor down is where you will find the Great Hall and that is also where the king is holding court whilst he is here. You will not be allowed onto that floor and there are many guards to make sure that you do not try. The king’s courtiers are there as well. Then you have the next floor down which is where Sir Geoffrey has his rooms. All the lesser nobles and knights stay there. The bottom floor you are starting to get to know well, I expect. That is the kitchens and stores and sleeping quarters for the servants, the pageboys, the squires and the kitchen boys. You will also find all the other kitchen staff there. Then, below that, underground, are the castle dungeons and treasury.”

  “Dungeons!” exclaimed Charlie. For a second he was filled with a sense of dread and fascination. “I should like to see those,” he said, as the boy in him took over for a few moments.

  “Trust me Charlie; you do not want to see the dungeons. No one wants to see the dungeons, under any circumstances.”

  Charlie fell silent and started grooming Challenger again.

  “There don’t seem to be many girls,” said Charlie, going off in a different direction.

  “Well the only girls are employed as household staff or are handmaids and ladies in waiting. They all sleep on the upper floors. Why do you ask about girls? Do you want to meet some girls for some fun, Charlie Watts, because, if you do, I know some likely lasses in the village who would be prepared to have some fun with you?”

  Charlie was suddenly embarrassed and hurriedly moved on “Um… no that’s quite alright thank you Martin. I just asked that is all. By the way, what can you tell me about Longhaired Nick?”

  Martin’s pleasant demeanour completely changed. “Now there is someone it would do you well to stay away from. He is not a good person to be associated with. He is head of the kitchen boys but does no actual

  work himself. He is a vicious thug and if you catch him on the wrong day he will cut you.”

  “Cut me?”

  “He carries a long bladed assassin’s knife in his right boot and will use it at the slightest provocation. He is no better than a common outlaw. No one likes him but for some strange reason he seems to have the favour of the Earl himself so we all have to get along with him as best we can. Tom Cook would love to get rid of him but he is as stuck with him as we all are. Mark my words well Charlie Watts, have nothing to do with Longhaired Nick.”

  “It may be too late,” murmured Charlie, “I appear to already be on the wrong side of him.”

  “Well, no matter, just avoid him like you would a leper.”

  “I will take your advice Martin and I thank you for it. Can I ask you something else?”

  “You can ask me whatever you like Charlie.”

  “I would like some different clothes, perhaps a tunic of some kind to go over my under garment. I was quite cold last night and I am afraid I lost my clothing on the road.”

  “Well strictly speaking, of course, your clothing is Sir Geoffrey’s responsibility but I have a spare tunic I could lend you for a few days until you have had a chance to speak to him.”

  “That would be wonderful, thank you very much.”

  Martin disappeared for a few minutes and then returned holding a purple tunic that was made of wool and was really quite dirty and smelled of horses. However, Charlie did not want to appear ungrateful so he slipped it on and did up the crude buttons at the front. Of course it was a bit too big but Charlie took off his leather belt from his jeans and wrapped it around the outside of the tunic. When he pulled his belt tight it gathered in the garment and he looked quite presentable.

  “Not the most fetching sight I have ever seen,” laughed Martin, “You could fit two of you in it and still have room to spare!”

  “I am just grateful for the loan of it. Thank you again. And thank you for the advice you have given me, I would have been lost without it Martin.”

  “It is as I said to you yesterday Charlie Watts, you can ask me anything and I will try to help. It is not in my nature to be surly and, apart from

  that, I like you Charlie. You seem to be of a serious turn of mind, which I admire in people.”

  Charlie was not quite sure what Martin meant by “serious” but he took it as a compliment because that was the way it was clearly intended and then he took his leave of Martin and said he would call by later in the afternoon to say hello. He wondered what he should do next and decided that he would look around, after all, he was in a medieval castle one thousand years in the past and he knew he had some sights to see.

  SEVENTEEN

  Gramps was in the cellar waiting for the minutes to tick by so that he could enter the portal as close to the time that Charlie entered as possible. Finally it was time. He adjusted his leather tunic, checked the sword and dagger at his side, felt for the purse that was slung to his belt, heavy with gold coins, and then he took a step forward into the small brick lined room into which Charlie had disappeared the previous day. There was a brief blinding flash of light and Gramps was gone.

  A rumble of thunder and an accompanying flash of light in a narrow street in the village of Stockton in 1140 lasted an instant. When both noise and light had dissipated, Gramps was standing there. It was night time, about three o’clock in the morning, Gramps supposed. He looked from side to side and whirled around in a full three hundred and sixty-degree turn to see if anyone had seen his arrival. To his relief he was alone.

  He immediately fished inside his tunic and pulled out what looked like a hand held computer. He flipped it open and starting pushing buttons. The device had a screen on it that leapt into life with a warm blue glow that bathed Gramps face in soft light. The device marked exactly the time and date of his arrival, along with the exact geographic location. Gramps saw that it was exactly three o’clock and enjoyed the fact that his guess had been bang on. On the screen was also a list of dates and times when he could step back through the portal to regain his place in his own time.

  “Right then Charlie, where the devil are you,” said Gramps to himself and moved off in search of his grandson.

  EIGHTEEN

  Charlie wandered into the bailey area of the castle and strolled along the road taking in the sights, sounds and smells of England in 1140. He was fascinated by the work that people were carrying out and stopped at each open workshop to watch. He came to the armourer that he had seen when he had entered the castle and he watched with fascination as a small boy operated a large set of bellows that helped to fan a forge into a searingly hot inferno. A beefy looki
ng man with the hairiest forearms that Charlie had ever seen was holding something in the forge with long handled iron tongs and when he withdrew it Charlie saw that it was the beginnings of a new battle sword. It was glowing white. The smith laid the sword on a huge anvil, picked up a heavy looking hammer that was lying alongside, and immediately began striking the glowing meal. Sparks flew in all directions, like fireworks, landing even on the man’s arms but he seemed neither to notice nor to care. Each strike of the hammer produced a clanging chime that burrowed into Charlie’s ears and reverberated there incessantly. When the banging was over the man plunged the sword into a large trough of cold water that hissed furiously as the glowing red metal entered it. The smith held up the cooling metal for inspection. He then plunged the sword back into the furnace, the small boy began furiously operating the bellows and the whole process began over again.

  In the next workshop was the man making arrows, he sat astride a long bench which had a series of holes at one end. Into these holes were fitted the long shafts of new arrows. Charlie was genuinely taken aback at how long the arrows were, he estimated them to be about a metre long and they were being fitted with flights at one end. The flights were made from feathers which the man kept in a sack next to him. Whenever he needed one he pulled a new feather out and worked expertly with a

  knife to whittle the feather down to the size he needed. He then split it down the middle to create two perfect flights which were attached to the shaft using thin twine. Charlie saw a small alley that ran between the two workshops and decided to wander down to see what lay in the inner streets of the bailey.

  He immediately came upon a butcher’s shop that had a rack of rabbits skinned and ready for cooking sitting on a table, and, just like he had seen in the outside village, there was the carcass of a sheep being butchered into joints. Charlie hated butchers’ shops. He was not a vegetarian but he remembered being a small boy and being taken out to town by his mother. Along one street they had passed a butcher’s shop and the butcher had placed the head of a dead pig in the window for some reason. Its eyes bulged and it seemed to have a smile on its face almost as if it was pleased with its fate. Charlie remembered feeling disgusted and the image had always stuck with him, as had the smell of blood and raw flesh, which permeated every crevice of such a shop. Charlie supposed he was like most people who had more or less gone past the point of recognising a hamburger or a rasher of bacon, as part of an animal and just viewed it as a food commodity, as something like beans, fruit or breakfast cereal. He quickly left the butcher behind and wandered along a very narrow arcade where the buildings had two storeys that nearly met forming an archway over the street.