by Cate Cain
The doors closed behind him and Jem heard a click as a key turned to lock the room. His stomach performed a somersault and his head felt as if it might explode with a mixture of fear and relief.
The voices grew louder as the afternoon wore on. The duke was entertaining his business partners like royalty.
For now, Jem was trapped. He couldn’t leave the gallery until the guests had gone. He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware that he needed to relieve himself.
Looking up through the dome he tried to assess the hour from the light in the room. It was, he guessed, late afternoon. The day was hot and inside the model, the air was thick and muggy. Trying to ignore his full bladder, he leaned back against the wooden wall and rested his head on his knees.
When Jem woke it was dark and his first, panicked thought was that he had been buried alive. Reaching out in the blackness, his hands touched wooden walls and his nostrils were filled with the smell of sawdust. It took him a moment to remember where he was and in a moment more, he was reminded of the urgent need to empty his bladder.
The room was utterly silent. Cautiously, he felt his way to the place where the sections of the model cathedral fitted together and pushed gently until a chink of grey appeared in the dark.
The tall narrow windows of the gallery lit the room with the weak light cast by a half-moon. Jem squeezed through the gap and carefully pushed the section back together to disguise his hiding place. Around him the bulky black shapes of the models were brooding and almost alive. Their shadows made the gallery dark and menacing.
As he padded past the cabinet he remembered the contract. Every one of the conspirators had signed it in their blood. He had to take it for evidence.
The cabinet was Oriental in design and decorated with twisting golden dragons chasing balls of fire. The pattern gleamed clearly in the thin moonlight. Running his fingers lightly across the cabinet’s side, Jem felt that one of the flaming balls was raised a little from the lacquered surface. He pressed the ball and heard a small click as the hidden drawer shot out. Nestling in the drawer was the contract, bound in its red ribbon. But deeper inside the drawer was another, larger, scroll. Jem quickly picked it up and unrolled it to reveal a drawing of the city with a star at its centre. The duke’s copy of the fire map! Jem grabbed both scrolls and pushed the drawer shut again before stuffing them both into the torn lining of his jacket.
He walked softly to the doors and brought the ring of keys from his pocket. He found the right key and brought it to the lock.
Carefully he opened the door. The anteroom had been cleared and returned to normal. Apart from the long table and chairs, nothing remained of the feast. Ludlow House was silent.
Jem locked the doors behind him and headed across the anteroom toward the hall.
“And what do we have here, then?”
He was just at the foot of staircase when he felt cold, bony fingers grip the back of his neck.
Wormald’s eyes glowed in the moonlight. He could hardly conceal his delight at catching the boy. He shot out a hand and gripped Jem’s ear, twisting it sharply and painfully.
“Sneaking about looking for food at this time of night, eh? I thought I told you that you were barred from partaking of the remnants of the feast with the rest of us. But it seems, as usual, that Master Jeremy Green is too high and mighty to abide by the rules.”
It was a lifeline and Jem grasped it. Wormald had no idea what he’d really been up to. He almost felt the duke’s papers burn through the lining of his jacket as he pulled himself to together to stammer. “I– I’m sorry Mr Wormald. But I was so hungry. I couldn’t help myself.”
The steward’s eyes narrowed.
“I wonder how hungry you’ll feel after a night locked in the cellar? There are rats the size of cats down there. And then, tomorrow morning we’ll ask the duke what he thinks, shall we? He won’t take kindly to thievery in his own house.”
Much to Wormald’s disappointment, the duke didn’t seem particularly interested in Jem’s midnight raid on the kitchen. He seemed to be afflicted with a headache and was more concerned about positioning a band of linen soaked with cool lavender water across his forehead than listening to the steward’s complaints.
“Wormald, I really have no time for these petty household disputes,” he muttered. “Punish the boy as you see fit. And you,” the duke glanced at Jem. “… should endeavour to curb your greed.”
He squeezed the linen strip above the bowl and reapplied it to his temples. “Now go.” He flicked a lace-cuffed hand in their direction and closed his eyes.
When they were in the corridor, Wormald smiled maliciously. “Punish the boy as you see fit, eh? Well, Master Green, what I see as fit punishment is for you to clear the blocked drains under the kitchen and then to be locked in the attic for the next two days without food or water – after a beating, of course. Wait here. You, Tobias, watch him for me.”
Toby the footman put a hand on Jem’s shoulder as Wormald stalked back to the kitchen to fetch his cane.
A door further down the corridor opened and Jem’s mother appeared. She bustled past and made a show of ignoring him. Then she stopped and retraced her steps. Leaning close so that Toby couldn’t hear her, she brought her lips close to Jem’s ear as if she was going to kiss him.
“I know what you did,” she hissed.
Jem’s eyes widened in amazement. Sarah continued, “Stealing my keys to open the larder! I am ashamed of you.”
With that Sarah turned her back on her son and marched away up the corridor. Jem watched miserably as she disappeared into the duchess’s rooms.
Jem paced the boards of the attic again. His back stung from Wormald’s lashes and his whole body stank after a morning of crawling through the broad drains that led from the kitchen out under the thick old walls of Ludlow House to the open channels of the yard. The drains were clogged with knobs of rotting meat, rancid animal fat and unidentifiable gristly things that Jem didn’t like to think about. He’d scraped his way through the filth to clear a fresh escape route for the kitchen slurry and now he was sweaty, rank and desperately thirsty.
The hot stuffy air of the attic made him smell even worse. At first it hadn’t been so bad. He’d flicked through a book and then he’d leaned out of the window trying to gulp some fresh clean air into his lungs. He watched the colour fade from London as the red burning ball of the sun set in the west. The jangling chimes of the city churches told him it was nine o’clock. A whole day had passed since he’d hidden in the model!
He had to tell Tolly and Ann what he knew. The men had named the date of the fire, and what’s more, the evidence of their crime was still concealed in the lining of his soiled, stinking jacket. He had to escape.
In frustration, Jem thumped his fist down hard on the windowsill and a little part of the ancient brickwork crumbled away, falling to the ground below. He looked down and noticed how fast and how thickly the ivy had grown up the side of the building. No wonder he’d lost sight of Cleo after she’d delivered that message…
That was it! Cleo!
There was a way out of the locked room – but one that would take every ounce of his courage. He would have to climb down the four storeys of Ludlow House, clinging to the ivy like a monkey.
Jem took a deep breath and clambered out through the small window and onto the wide stone parapet that ran around the top of the building. Careful not to look down, he gripped the wall behind him and shuffled along until he came to a corner where the jutting bricks provided some footholds and the ivy grew thick and strong.
His hands were clammy with sweat. Gripping a wrist-thick rope of knotted ivy tendrils, he swung his body round so that he was facing the wall. Still clinging on tight, he lowered his right leg and felt cautiously on the brickwork below for a foothold. The ivy made a cracking noise and moved away from the wall. Jem felt himself sway out. He lunged back at the wall and gripped another stem. This was more secure and at the same time his foot made contact with a g
roove in the brickwork, but Jem’s body suddenly flooded with fear and he froze.
Sweat was pouring from his forehead, his limbs were locked and completely unresponsive, and he was fifty feet above the ground.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Jem closed his eyes and gripped even tighter. His mind was screaming at his body to keep going, but somehow, he couldn’t move a muscle. His fingers were beginning to lock and cramp. He knew that it wouldn’t be long before his rigid body simply plummeted to the ground.
There was a feather-light touch on his right hand. Jem opened his eyes and saw Cleo swinging from a tendril of ivy. She gave a chirp of encouragement and fixed her warm brown eyes on his.
“That’s good… You’re doing well. Hold there and breathe slowly. Now, just to your left, by Cleo’s tail, down a little, there’s another hand hold.”
Tolly’s encouraging words sounded in Jem’s head.
“Don’t look down,” the voice came again quickly. “Just concentrate. We’ll help you. Cleo can show you the way – just follow her. Look – to your right. Yes, just there, by Cleo’s paw. Slooooowly – good! Now move your left leg down a little and in. Yes! Good. We’ll soon have you down, Jem.”
The descent was slow and agonising. Jem’s arms and legs were shaking so much that he could barely move them, but Cleo stayed close by, making soft encouraging noises and guiding him gently to foot and hand holds. Tolly’s voice was patient and when Jem stiffened in panic, his friend’s calm instructions helped him to grit his teeth and move on.
“You can jump now.”
For the first time, Jem allowed himself to look down and saw that he was just four feet from the ground. With a huge rush of relief he let go and dropped down lightly to where Tolly was waiting for him.
This side of Ludlow House was invisible from the road. The narrow passageway led around to the gardens and it was so rarely used that it was overgrown with nettles.
Tolly grinned and spoke out loud. “You did well. Watch out for the stingers there. I thought you might—” he broke off. “Jem! What on earth is that terrible stink? It’s worse than that man Wormald!”
Jem bent double and breathed deeply, he could feel his kneecaps twitching oddly as all the built-up tension drained from his body. At last he straightened up and, pushing a mass of damp, black curls back from his forehead, he grinned. “Thanks, Tolly. If it for wasn’t for you and Cleo I’d probably be stuck up there for ever. The height… I don’t know what happened… I just couldn’t…” Jem faltered, embarrassed.
Tolly shrugged. “Don’t be ashamed – we all have our demons. You remember when we hid in the darkness in the four-poster bed? And the fear I couldn’t control? Since the days I spent in the boat to Alexandria, in the dark hold, I haven’t been able to—” he stopped himself, as if the memory was too painful to recall.
“I’m sorry about the smell,” Jem apologised. “I’ve been cleaning out drains.”
Tolly wrinkled his nose in disgust. Now that he was dressed in ordinary clothes, instead of the formal uniform of a rich man’s page, he looked younger and less exotic.
“Er… how did you know I was up there on the wall?” Jem asked.
“I shared your mind.”
“How does that work? Do you mean you were reading my thoughts?”
Tolly shook his head. “It’s not like that. I can’t hear words exactly. When I have a– a… bond with someone I sometimes see images and pick up feelings. I suddenly knew you were in trouble yesterday afternoon. I was fetching clean hay for the lions when I sensed your fear – it was so sharp and strong it was almost like a smell. The trail of it led me straight to Ludlow House. I’ve been waiting here ever since, trying to find a way to reach you, but it was Cleo who got there first.” Tolly’s eyes glinted with mischief. “But to be honest Jem, the way you stink right now I can’t be entirely sure it wasn’t that awful smell that led us to you, after all.”
Jem grinned as he looked down at his stained clothes. He realised that Tolly must have felt his fear at the very moment when he thought that he was going to be discovered in the model. In a rush he began to tell his friend about everything that had happened, but Tolly stopped him. “You must tell Ann all this too. Save your words and come with me. Are you hungry?”
Jem nodded. He was ravenous as well as thirsty.
“Well, follow me. There’s always a good rich stew bubbling on Mr Jericho’s campfire – and you can tell us everything while we eat.”
With Cleo perched on his shoulder, Tolly led the way along the passage, careful to avoid the clumps of nettles. “You’ll have to wash first though,” Tolly called back. “I don’t think even I could eat anything if you’re within ten feet of me!”
The boys and the monkey passed through one of London’s eastern gates and into the fields beyond the city walls. Gabriel Jericho’s theatrical circus was spread across an acre of parched grass – a lively mass of colourful tents, glittering fabrics, fires, torches, wagons and carts. At the centre of the camp was an open ring. A huge, curtained stage erected on poles and scaffolding stood at the far side.
Jem could hear the sound of laughter, conversation and music and, more importantly, he could smell the tempting savoury smell of roasting meat. As they reached the outskirts of the camp a painted woman with an enormous snake draped about her shoulders waved at Tolly and came over to greet them.
“I hope your friend’ll be joining us, Tolly?” she grinned. “He’s a bit whiffy, but he’s the most handsome lad I’ve ever clapped eyes on… Apart from you, of course.”
Tolly laughed and Jem felt his face burn.
“I think that’s up to Jem here, Juno.” Tolly nudged Jem’s arm, “I know there’s a place for him with us, if he wants it.”
“Our lion boy is back then?” A deep voice thundered from behind them.
A burly man with thick golden hair, a reddish beard and a fur pelt thrown over his shoulders sauntered over. He grinned and winked at Jem. “Balthazar Sampson, lion tamer, at your service. Your mate here is the talk of the circus. He’s a marvel!”
Jem looked at Tolly and raised an eyebrow. Tolly looked delighted. “Come on,” the dark boy said, grinning broadly, “I’ll show you. It won’t take long.”
Tolly led the way back over to some torchlit cages at the edge of the field. In the central cage two massive male lions were lolling in the straw. As the boys approached, the animals lifted their heads and sniffed the air. Immediately they sprang to their feet and hurled themselves against the bars, snarling and roaring. The sound was deafening.
Cleo shrieked and leapt from Tolly’s shoulder to the roof of the cage, where she kept up a furious chatter.
Tolly smiled. “They can smell the drains on you, Jem. Like the rest of us.”
He bent to a small gate in the side of the cage, unhooked the wires that fastened it and stepped inside.
Jem was astonished. “Tolly! No! You’ll be eaten alive!”
But Tolly just walked slowly over to the largest crouching lion and held out his hand. He stared intently at the creature and after a moment it licked his hand and nuzzled its enormous head against Tolly’s shoulder. The other lion did exactly the same. Within a minute the two animals were sitting meekly on either side of the boy. Then they rolled over and playfully invited him to tickle their tummies.
“He’s quite a performer, isn’t he?”
This admiring voice belonged to Jericho. He was watching through the bars on the far side of the cage. “In all my years on the road I’ve never seen anything like it. Those two are usually devils incarnate, but Tolly here has made kittens of them, hasn’t he Balthazar?”
“He can make them do anything,” the lion tamer nodded. “He’s a veritable Daniel – don’t know how he does it.”
Tolly looked even more delighted. Jem smiled at his friend. Even he wondered how he had done it.
A voice sounded in his head. “I just asked them politely, Jem. That’s all they wanted.”
The boys l
aughed at the same moment and the men turned to look at them.
“And I wonder what your secret might be, gypsy prince?” enquired Gabriel shrewdly, his warm brown eyes crinkling with interest.
For the first time ever, Jem didn’t mind being called ‘gypsy’. The way Jericho said it, the word sounded like something special, something good.
He looked around at the twinkling camp. In just a few minutes he’d felt more at home among Mr Jericho’s players that in all the years he’d lived at Ludlow House.
Ludlow House!
He had to tell the others what he knew.
“Er… sir, Mr Jericho,” he began quickly. “Where’s Ann, please? I need to see her… I…”
“She’ll be glad to to see you too, lad. You as well, Tolly. She’s been fretting about you and little Cleo since you both disappeared yesterday without saying a word. In the end I had to tell her some cock and bull story about sending you out to the city with playbills, but I could see she didn’t believe me. She was quite sharp.” The big man pulled a face and winked conspiratorially, “You know how she can be.”
Gabriel led the boys and the monkey back to the heart of the camp. Just beyond the stage Jem saw a large, circular tent beautifully decorated with colourful scenes of mythical beings and creatures. One of them was a smiling mermaid and Jem was momentarily reminded of the pedlar girl frozen into the River Thames. This painted mermaid was shimmering and silver and oddly alive. Unlike that poor dead girl in the ice.
