by Liam Perrin
"Good day ladies," said Thomas, bowing enough to be proper, but not enough, he hoped, to be a rube.
He must have succeeded. Marie's friends excused themselves and pranced off, still giggling and throwing the occasional fleeting look back at them.
Thomas sat down next to Marie and took in the park.
"You smell lovely," she said.
"Ugh," said Thomas. He affected Madame Rhapsody's throaty voice: "Madame Rhapsody's Dance Emporium. Where Knights become Men..."
He rolled his eyes, "Or something like that." Marie laughed.
"Well, I'm sure you're doing wonderfully," she said. "At both tasks," she added, grinning.
Thomas blushed, and then embarrassed for blushing, blushed some more.
Marie gasped suddenly. "Philip told me what you overheard in the Undercroft," she blurted.
"He did?"
She nodded and put her hand on his leg. "What are you going to do?" she said, eyes wide and breath held.
Thomas honestly couldn't think of anything other than her hand. And her eyes looking so intently into his. ...and her hand.
He shook himself mentally.
"Um," he said. And then told her the same thing he'd told Philip.
"We've got to find out what they're up to before we can do anything about it. And in the meantime, we've got to just, you know, do what we can."
He shrugged.
She frowned.
"But what do you think it could be – the shipment?" Her hand was no longer on his leg, but Thomas still found it difficult to focus.
He shrugged again. "It could be anything. Gold, weapons... biscuits."
They laughed, but something tugged at Thomas's thoughts. Something about biscuits.
Marie noticed the look on his face. "What is it?" she said.
"I don't know," said Thomas.
They were quiet for a while, watching a sord of ducks paddle around an eddy in the stream.
"How's your brother?" asked Marie.
"How'd you get from biscuits to my brother?"
It was Marie's turn to shrug. "I imagine he's not eating all that well."
"The whole town's not eating all that well," said Thomas.
Marie frowned.
"I haven't heard from him, but I did get a letter from Mum." Thomas looked down at his hands. "They're hanging in there," he said. "I'm sure William is okay." But he wasn't sure at all.
Thankfully Marie didn't press him. Thomas offered his hand and said, "Escort you back to the Palace m'Lady?"
"It would be my pleasure," she said, smiling up at him, and they headed for the exit. The pair of orphans at the water's edge had decided it was time to go as well and shoved out the gate just in front of Thomas and Marie.
One of the boys bumped into an older man on the street in a way that startled the man and made him stoop a bit. The boy apologized and tipped a non-existent hat to him while the second boy brushed past the other side of the man and back-tracked toward Thomas and Marie.
Thomas caught him by the collar. "Whoa there little nipper."
"Thomas!" gasped Marie.
The first boy shot a look at Thomas, then turned and ran.
"Hey!" said the second boy, struggling against Thomas's grip. "Lemmego!"
"Sir!" called Thomas to the man. "I think this boy has something to say to you."
The boy gave Thomas a vicious look while the man walked over.
"What's this about?" said the man.
"Hand it over," said Thomas.
"Dunno what yer talkin' about mister."
"Are you missing anything?" Thomas asked the old man.
"Don't think so..." said the man, patting himself down. He froze. "Why that little sneak thief. He's got my coin!"
The boy struggled, but when he couldn't free himself to run, he changed tactics. He slumped and began crying pitifully.
"Puh puh puh please, sir. I wouldn't steal it if I didn't need it. Me mum's in a bad way and... And we ain't got no bread. And she ain't had her apothecaries in days."
The man's face melted.
Thomas called the boy's bluff. "Right then, let's go see your mum shall we?"
In the midst of his performance, the boy shot Thomas another vicious look.
"You don't want to go doin' that sirs. Doctor thinks maybe she's got the plague. She's got these big buboes..."
The boy held his hands up to his neck and made a sick face.
The man grimaced and took a step back, shooting a look at Thomas.
"If I could just help her be comfortable here in her final days."
Thomas rolled his eyes and shook the boy.
"Hand it over," he said.
Furious, the boy produced a shiny, silver coin and held it out to the man.
The man gave Thomas a questioning look.
"Lies," said Thomas.
The man knit his brows, but took the coin, thanked Thomas and strolled away. He was still holding the coin at arm's length when he rounded the corner up the street.
Thomas looked down at the boy. "What's your name?" Thomas asked.
The boy seemed startled by the question.
"Um, Ollie", he said.
"The road you're traveling leads to no good, 'Um Ollie,'" said Thomas. "What do you want to do with your life?"
In answer, the boy stomped on Thomas's foot hard.
"Ow!" said Thomas, and let go.
In a flash, the boy was gone. Thomas took a step after him, but Marie grabbed his arm.
"How did you know...?" she started.
Thomas shook his head. "That's how William and I made our living one summer."
"Sir Thomas the Hesitant was a pickpocket? A common thief?"
"And a lousy one at that."
"You got caught?"
"No. We just... stopped."
"Why?"
Thomas thought for a moment. "I don't know. I think Old Lady Applebutter was the real winner – all we did with our plunder was buy her tarts. Then one day William just said we needed to stop. So we did."
Thomas offered his arm.
Marie put one hand on her throat. "I don't know if it would be proper for one of Guinevere's Ladies in Waiting to be seen consorting with a ne'er-do-well, Sir Thomas."
"How about a rehabilitated ne'er-do-well?"
"Oh, I suppose that would be alright." She fluttered her lashes, took his arm, and they made their way toward the palace. They parted ways awkwardly when their paths diverged. Marie headed toward the palace proper, and Thomas veered off in the direction of the barracks. When they were almost but not quite out of earshot, Marie turned and yelled, "Will you come back through the park again tomorrow?"
"I will," said Thomas, "if you'll be there!"
She smiled, turned, and hurried into the palace, curtseying to the liveried soldier who opened the door for her.
Thomas stared at the closed door long enough that the soldier shot him a look and gave a sort of shrug that clearly meant, Can I help you? Thomas grinned, saluted and walked away humming.
Remi the Imperturbable slept on his bunk near the back, but besides him, the barracks were empty. There was something on Thomas's bed.
"I thought I put that parchment away," Thomas mumbled to himself. Halfway to his bunk he realized it wasn't his parchment. It was another letter. Bracing himself, he picked it up, sat down, took a deep breath, and read.
From: William Farmer, Prisoner
Dungeon I, Fogbottom Keep, Fogbottom
Dear Thomas,
Salutations. Oh, how I miss the sun little brother. Mum tells me you're in Camelot. Enjoy it - don't fret about me. The land is dying, Mum is as she is, and me? Here I am locked up.
I must say though, prison is fascinating. Never a dull moment as they say. Good behavior gets me fed not once, but twice a day. It's bread and water mostly, which is alright by me. Sourdough today says Wendsley Hunter - remember him? A baron's guard he is now and not a bad fellow.
"Mr. William, you're wasting away," he tells me.
Mostly empty cells here so I got my pick of the lot. One right next to me used to sport a window I think. Rare thing that is, a window in a dungeon. End to end, my cell is the biggest by a meter. Loosen my manacles and I can really stretch out. Ages it's been since that window was bricked. This dungeon wasn't always a dungeon. Eh, I know it only matters what things are right now. Right?
Which brings us to it. You are not to worry about me Thomas. Because I chose to be, that's why I'm here. Of my suffering I take no account. For the people of Fogbottom, I endure. How many of them have a roof and food like I do?
And as if that weren't enough, I've befriended a large rat. Brown and spry, I've named him Cartwright the Pluck. A bit skittish, but he's warming up.
Be well, Thomas.
Your loving brother,
William
Thomas stared at the letter, slumped. His brother's encouragement somehow made Thomas feel his small efforts for Right that day were... well, the word "ridiculous" came to mind. Here he was helping old ladies cross the street while his brother sat in prison for trying to save a whole town.
As he mulled over William's letter, his eyes drifted across the page, and suddenly he saw it.
"Oh!" he said, and shot to his feet, eyes still locked on the parchment. He took two steps in one direction, said "Oh!" again, turned on his heel and took two steps in the other.
"Philip!" he said to himself and headed for the door. He found him with a small group of other Less Valued at the notice board across the Commons from their barracks.
Philip spotted him coming and called him over, "Thomas! Take a look at this!"
Philip pointed to a new announcement. "The armory's supplying us with... well... armor!"
"That's nice," said Thomas and dragged Philip away from the group. When they were out of earshot, he thrust the letter into Philip's hands and told him, "Read this."
It took Philip a moment to realize what it was. "Oh Thomas," he started, but Thomas stopped him. "Read it," he said again.
Philip frowned and read. Halfway through Philip stopped and said, "Thomas you mustn't feel guilty."
Thomas put his hand on Philip's shoulder. "Read," he said, "it."
Philip read. When he was done he looked to the sky and said, "Oh, Thomas."
Thomas waited.
"He's befriended... a rat," said Philip.
"No, no, no." Thomas grabbed the letter and pointed. "Here," he said and jabbed his finger at the first letter of each sentence.
Philip read, "S–o–m–e–t..."
Thomas groaned. "Put them together, lug."
Philip's brow knitted as he puzzled it out. "So met hing is ami smores later wyb of habab," he said, slowly.
Thomas shook his head and pointed. "Something is amiss," he read. "More later."
Philip looked. "Oh!" he said.
"That's what I said!" said Thomas.
"Who's 'Wyb of Habab?'"
"I've no idea," Thomas shook his head again. "I've never heard of Habab."
"Sounds Turkish maybe."
They both stared at the letter in silence.
"What do we do?" said Philip.
Thomas threw his hands up and let them fall and smack against his legs. "I've no idea."
"But this is proof!"
"Of what? Proof my brother is barking mad? You read it, he's named a rat... What was it?" Thomas read from the letter, "Cartwright the Pluck."
"It's proof that... It's proof that, well, something's amiss. And we know about the shipment. And... Saint Stephen's sandals," Philip conceded. "It's proof of nothing," he sighed.
They walked toward the barracks.
"Cartwright the Pluck," said Philip for no reason in particular.
"I wonder if he could take Sir Cuddlington in a fight," said Thomas.
"Who?" said Philip.
"Never mind," said Thomas.
CHAPTER XVIII
The Sloppy Pants Gang
Thomas had a terrible time focusing on his dance lesson the next day; he was too excited about meeting Marie in Isolde Park after. "Dance from the hips," Madame Rhapsody exhorted for neither the first nor, Thomas was sure, the last time. Thomas had never really thought about his hips, but he was fairly certain moving his from side to side and tilting them was against their design. The only exciting part of the day's lesson was when Madame Rhapsody startled Sir Prescott the Pococurante out of a daydream causing him to back into Sir Cuddlington who hissed and darted straight at Hedley. Hedley deftly blocked the feline missile with his hammered dulcimer. Cuddles bounced off the strings, snapping three, and shot out the window.
"Hedley!" barked Madame Rhapsody. Hedley, apparently, was somehow at fault for the whole affair.
Hedley said, "Sorry Mum," and that, for all intents and purposes, was the end of the day's lesson.
There were no elderly citizens to help cross the street, so Thomas tried to satisfy himself with picking up a stray sack and depositing it in a nearby trash receptacle. The act felt hollow though, and for some reason brought William to mind – adding to Thomas's empty feeling.
He was staring at the trash can and thinking that he should set up a similar sanitation system in Fogbottom when the hairs on the nape of his neck prickled. He felt as though he was being watched. He glanced around and spotted a pair of orphans across the street, occupying themselves with a game on the ground involving several small stones.
They seemed to be ignoring the world around them completely until one of the boys looked up, straight at Thomas, and then went back to his stones.
Thomas, unsettled, walked down the street to the corner and made toward Isolde Park. Near the entrance he encountered another pair of boys, similarly unkempt and equally self-engrossed. Again, one made eye contact, and this time the other punched him in the arm for it.
Thomas picked up his pace. There were three more pairs of boys scattered about the park. One set was harassing the ducks, the second set was lounging in the branches of a tree near the exit and the third was talking to Marie. Marie was no slouch; she carried herself with the posture of a dancer under normal circumstances, but at the moment, she sat particularly upright. She looked as alarmed as Thomas felt.
"Oh, hello, Sir Thomas," she said as he approached and gave a very formal curtsey. Thomas hesitated, then returned the formal greeting with a bow and a "Lady Marie." Glancing at the boys he added, "Of the Queen-to-be's Ladies."
"Hello Gov'ner," said one of the boys much too casually. The other boy just grinned. Neither stood taller than Thomas's elbow, but they were somehow all the more frightening for it.
"Right then, let's be off shall we?" said Thomas, taking Marie's arm.
The boys followed them. "Where ye goin’ in such a hurry Misser Thomas?" said one.
"Aye," said the other, "we was just tellin' the Lady here how you inspired our friend Ollie yesterday." The second boy snickered at the name "Ollie," and the first elbowed him.
As they neared the exit, the boys in the tree dropped to the ground.
"There's Ollie now."
Sure enough, one of the boys from the tree was the boy Thomas had collared the day before.
Thomas and Marie stopped.
"Thomas," whispered Marie. "I don't have a very good feeling about this."
"Nonsense," said Thomas. "We'll be fine." But he didn't feel fine at all.
The boys from the tree approached. The two boys at the stream were making their way up to join the rest, and at the entrance to the park, the four Thomas had spotted on the way in appeared.
"Good day, Ollie," said Thomas in a voice he hoped sounded very firm and authoritative.
Ollie gave a full bow. "Good day, Sir Thomas."
Marie tightened her grip on Thomas's arm.
"I've been telling my friends what you did for me yesterday," said Ollie.
"Oh?" said Thomas.
"How inspiring i
t was. I mean, usually people like you and the Lady here just ignore us."
Marie's grip loosened, and an audible "Aw" actually escaped her lips. Thomas shot her a warning look.
"We were wondering, sir..."
They were completely encircled by the boys now. Thomas didn't like it at all.
"...how we could... well... if it were possible to..."
"Go on," encouraged Marie, smiling.
Thomas couldn't believe her. "Marie!" he hissed.
"...We were wondering how we could become knights... like you," Ollie blurted. Thomas gaped. Ollie looked terrified of how Thomas might react. Thomas glanced at the other boys. They too seemed to be waiting anxiously on Thomas's response.
Disarmed, and frankly stunned, Thomas stammered a bit. He'd never been the object of anyone's admiration before; that had always been William's job. He wasn't quite sure how to handle it. Marie was beaming at him.
"Well, I..." said Thomas. "The thing is..." he tried again.
"Would you mind coming and meeting me mum?" interjected Ollie.
"He really does have a mum," said Thomas to himself.
"Oh let's do," said Marie to Thomas.
"It would be an honor," said Thomas to Ollie.
Ollie's face lit up. He couldn't stand still. He grabbed Thomas's elbow, then seemed to think better of it and let go. "Follow me then, eh?" And he was off.
If it weren't for the crowd of boys also tracking Ollie, it would've been impossible to keep up with him as he weaved in and out of traffic. The convoy drew more than one curious stare from the people they passed. Eventually, the group took a turn down an alley in an area of Camelot Thomas had never been. He was surprised a region so depressed could exist right around the corner from the luxury of Camelot's more showy parts.
The boys dodged piles of festering garbage and rusting heaps of junk. A scrawny cat hissed at them and darted into a culvert reeking of things on which Thomas didn't care to dwell. Laundry hung on lines above them looking more forgotten than clean.
The boys stopped at a door at the end of the alley and waited for Thomas and Marie. The door's paint was peeling and it hung from one hinge, but it served to separate the alley from what Thomas assumed was Ollie's home. Nicking a coin here and there was starting to seem to Thomas like a smaller and smaller crime.
