by Megan Rix
Teeth ran halfway across the kitchen, looked over at George, whined, barked and then ran back to the wheel and sat beside it. His meaning couldn’t have been clearer.
‘How long has Claws been in there for?’ George asked.
Turnspit dogs were very good at telling the time and also had a strong sense of fairness. Claws and Teeth usually knew exactly when an hour was up and it was the other one’s turn to go in the wheel.
None of the kitchen staff seemed to know how long Claws had been turning the wheel and most of them didn’t much care. As far as they were concerned the turnspit dogs were called wheelers and they barely knew the difference between one dog and another. But George did. He knew the difference between all the dogs and he’d given them proper names rather than just ‘Wheeler’.
He sighed loudly. It just didn’t make sense to him when people overworked their animals until they got sick or injured. It seemed so pointless and cruel. The poor animal, whether it was a dog or a donkey or a horse, ended up suffering and the owner was worse off because they’d have to buy a new animal or do the job themselves!
‘How long’s the meat been cooking for?’ he asked.
Humphrey looked over at the joint. It was more than half done.
‘Few hours,’ he said. ‘Put it in just after you went.’
‘Has Claws been turning the wheel by himself all that time?’
Humphrey looked a bit shamefaced. ‘Maybe,’ he said. He’d been very busy and the dog hadn’t made a fuss, so he’d forgotten all about him.
‘If you tire the dogs out they’ll not be able to work,’ George said as he headed across the kitchen to the wheel, with Woofer scampering along beside him.
An old woman wrapped in a shawl sat on a stool huddled close to the fire as people worked and milled around her. She didn’t have a job as such but Old Peg had always been there for as long as anyone could remember and no one moved her away. Beside her a very old dog lay on a bed of sacking and an old blanket, fast asleep. Scraps was the oldest dog in the kitchen and had been at the palace since she was a puppy. She was a black, white and tan Welsh corgi cross and the sweetest-tempered dog George had ever met. He wished he could do something to help the turnspit dogs. He knew none of them really wanted to be in the wheels but it was better than being strays, living on the streets.
‘Hello, Woofer,’ Old Peg muttered and the little puppy looked up at her, his head tilted to one side.
‘How’s Scraps been?’ George asked her, looking down at the sleeping dog beside her.
‘Mostly napping, like me,’ Old Peg chuckled. ‘But she ate her food and drank some water too.’
George tried to use Scraps as little as possible because working the wheel was hard and tiring. But sometimes when there was a big event on and lots of meat to be cooked, he didn’t have a choice, and Scraps had to help too.
Woofer looked at the dog trotting round inside the wheel with four thick spokes on it high up on the wall at the side of the fire; it wasn’t that close to the flames, but it was near enough to be very hot work.
A pulley came from the wheel and was attached to the metal spit on which a joint of meat was threaded. The dog on the wall turned the wheel, the wheel turned the pulley, the pulley turned the spit and the spit turned the meat until it was cooked on all sides.
George undid one of the spokes so he could lift Claws out. The dog gave George’s face a quick lick and then jumped out of his arms and on to the stone floor. Then George lifted Teeth into position instead. Now it was Claws’ turn to watch his brother turn the wheel so the meat cooked evenly. If the dog stopped, the meat on the spit would end up burnt and blackened.
‘In Nottingham they use geese instead of dogs to do that,’ Humphrey said. ‘I used to watch them when I was a boy in the kitchen at Nottingham Castle before it was demolished and my family came to work here instead.’
Humphrey’s dad ran one of the other, larger kitchens that were devoted to meat roasting and sauce making.
Tiger Lily and Woofer made little puppy growls as they tugged at the rope toy on the ground.
‘Did you?’ George asked Humphrey, amazed at the idea and not completely sure if he believed him.
‘Yes, and I’ll tell you what, they did a better job than humans or dogs.’
‘Did they?’ George still couldn’t quite imagine it.
Humphrey nodded. ‘Geese can keep going for much longer, sometimes as long as twelve hours. There’s lots of things geese can do besides filling up a person’s tummy.’
‘Like what?’ asked a kitchen apprentice who was chopping onions.
‘Well, they can keep watch better than a guard dog for a start.’
George shook his head.
‘It’s true,’ Humphrey insisted. ‘Their eyesight is much better than a person’s or a dog’s for that matter.’
Tiger Lily had had enough of playing with the rope toy and headed over to Old Peg and Scraps to say hello.
‘Hello, little princess,’ Old Peg said.
Scraps half lifted her head and made a soft sound.
After she’d let the old woman stroke her, Tiger Lily curled up next to Scraps and went to sleep. The old dog gave the puppy a lick on her furry head. She didn’t go back to sleep again but lay there watching the puppy.
‘Woofer won’t be ready to work the wheel for a good few months yet,’ George said to Humphrey.
‘Well, he can help keep the rats down until then,’ said Humphrey.
Rats were everywhere and Humphrey had had a nasty shock one morning when he’d woken up to find one asleep on his bald head. He’d been dreaming that his hair had finally grown back. Rats could give you a nasty nip too, worse than any flea bite.
Teeth and Claws were both very good at rat-catching, corralling them until it was too late for the creatures to escape.
‘Anything that helps to keep the rats out of the kitchen is good with me,’ Humphrey said.
Tiger Lily and Woofer were fast asleep next to Scraps after their busy day when a man wearing long boots and a footman’s uniform came into the kitchen. He was holding a thick warm coat in his arms.
‘I’m James Jack, keeper of the royal dogs,’ he said. ‘I’ve been hearing all about our new puppy and a kitchen boy called George who helped her get over her seasickness.’
‘I’m George,’ George said shyly.
James Jack nodded. ‘The king thought you could use this,’ he said, holding out the coat.
‘Th-thanks,’ George said. He couldn’t believe his luck. He’d never had such a fine coat before.
‘His Majesty mentioned something about you having a supply of biscuits made for dogs?’
George gulped. He hoped he wasn’t landing Annie in trouble but the dogs had loved her biscuits. ‘That was my friend Annie,’ he said.
‘Smart girl,’ James Jack said.
‘And a great cook,’ said George.
‘Well, the king wants you to buy some more from her, enough to last a few weeks,’ James Jack said, and he gave George some coins to pay for them.
George looked down at the money. It was more than he or Annie, or both of them put together, earnt in a week.
‘Come on now, little one,’ James Jack said as he gently lifted Tiger Lily from the floor. The little spaniel looked up at him and gave a giant puppy yawn.
Woofer rolled on to his back with his legs up in the air and opened his eyes.
When he saw Tiger Lily being carried away he scrambled up and gave a woof as he ran after his friend.
‘Don’t worry, you can play with her again soon,’ James Jack told the puppy as he and Tiger Lily left the kitchen.
‘Come back, Woofer,’ George called to him, waving the rope toy. Woofer stopped and looked back at George. Then he looked back at where Tiger Lily had gone and whined.
CHAPTER 4
The king and the rest of his dogs were waiting for Tiger Lily in the royal apartments.
‘Here she is,’ James Jack said as he carried her in.
Tiger Lily looked back at the door behind her and the stairs they’d just come up. Down the stairs was the kitchen. In the kitchen was her friend Woofer.
‘And looking much healthier than when she first arrived, I’m pleased to say,’ said the king as James Jack set the puppy down on the Persian carpet.
Tiger Lily went to sniff and put out her paw to a black and tan spaniel with a greying muzzle.
‘That’s Cupid,’ the king told Tiger Lily. ‘He was at my coronation.’
Cupid was lying on his cushion after a long day out in the cold snow. He was tired and he didn’t want to play with a puppy. He told her so once with a grumble, and a second time by moving off his cushion away from her. But Tiger Lily just followed and tried to climb on him to get him to play. This time Cupid let out a loud, angry growl and Tiger Lily gave a squeal and ran away to hide under the bed.
‘Now then,’ said James Jack, kneeling down and stroking the frightened puppy when she was brave enough to poke her head out. ‘You should know better than to mither an old dog when he’s tuckered out.’
He picked her up and set her down on a soft velvet cushion.
Tiger Lily was so tired she could barely keep her eyes open and soon fell fast asleep as he stroked her.
But sometime during the night she woke up and crawled off her cushion to lie by the door that led back to her friend. And as soon as the door was opened the next morning by the woman who’d come to fetch the chamber pots, Tiger Lily slipped out unseen.
She stopped at the flight of stairs. The steps looked huge and it was such a long way down, but she was determined and so she half hopped, half fell, and sometimes needed to sit down and steel herself. Finally she made it all the way to the bottom and scampered into the kitchen to find her friend.
Woofer had been sleeping on top of George on his wooden pallet bed but even before Tiger Lily was through the kitchen door he was up and running over to her.
Humphrey was busily making the plague-prevention water for the day. It might have almost come to an end in London but the plague was spreading outside the city and he wasn’t taking any chances.
He’d already put a mashed parsley and garlic paste on his bald head in the hope that it would help his hair regrow.
‘You’ll have to take her back to the king’s apartments,’ Humphrey told George when the puppies had had a play and a bit of chicken for breakfast. ‘Creep in, though, and don’t let anyone see you. Don’t worry, His Majesty will still be sleeping.’
‘But what if someone does see me?’ George said.
He’d never been in the royal apartments before and he was worried he might get into trouble.
‘They won’t. Now hurry up before the king wakes.’
George picked up Tiger Lily, who gave his face a lick with her little pink tongue.
‘You stay here, Woofer,’ George said.
But Woofer had no intention of doing that. Going up the stairs was easier than coming down them, in spite of his short legs, especially when he had George and Tiger Lily to follow.
George did his best to creep into the king’s rooms as quietly as he could.
‘You wait there, Woofer,’ he said.
But Woofer wagged his tail and ran past George to join Tiger Lily. The two of them scampered through the open door of the king’s anteroom together.
George crept in after them. He could hear snoring coming from the royal bedchamber.
‘Woofer,’ he hissed. ‘Woofer – come back. Tiger Lily!’
But the puppies didn’t return. The legs of the king’s huge bed held it just high enough for a puppy to crawl comfortably beneath the mattress frame. Under the bed there were lots of interesting smells to sniff at as well as a few old bits of food to taste.
George peered round the door. He could see a lump in the bed but no puppies.
‘Woofer? Tiger Lily?’ he whispered.
From under the mattress he heard a puppy sneeze.
‘Woofer!’
George crouched down and looked in the direction of the sneeze while the body lying in the bed continued to snore.
‘Woofer – come out!’ He stretched an arm as far as he could under the bed to try and reach the dog but Woofer and Tiger Lily squirmed away to the other side. George crept round to try and reach them from there but the mischievous pups crawled away again on their tummies.
As George’s hand wiggled about in different directions the two puppies really began to enjoy the game, scuttling back and forth, faster and faster, until they came out from under the bed so quickly that they bumped into a wooden stand on which hung a long black curly wig that came tumbling down and landed on top of Woofer. He started to wrestle it with his teeth and shook it from side to side making growling sounds. Then Tiger Lily started to pull at it from the other side.
‘No, Woofer, no! Please stop!’ George cried as the sleeper awoke and started to laugh when he saw what the puppies were doing.
‘That’s it, little Tiger Lily – you defend His Majesty from that violent beast,’ the king said.
George barely recognized the king with his closely cropped hair.
Woofer caught sight of another dog in the room and promptly let go of the prize, leaving Tiger Lily holding the wig in her teeth, looking up at the king and wagging her tail.
She’d seen herself in a mirror before. But Woofer had never seen a reflection of himself and he did a double take when he saw the shaggy-coated dog to the side of him. When he turned his head to have a proper look, the other dog turned its head too and looked straight back at him, bold as brass!
Tiger Lily tried to climb on to the king’s bed and he lifted her up so she could nestle herself among the soft feather pillows and be stroked.
‘He’s not the most handsome of dogs but there’s something endearing about his funny, furry little face,’ said the king, looking at Woofer. Woofer wagged his tail as if he were agreeing – and the dog in the mirror wagged his tail too.
When George tried to grab him, Woofer quickly dived back under the bed.
‘I’m sorry, Your Majesty,’ George said as he stretched out an arm to grab hold of Woofer.
But the king didn’t mind at all. ‘Tiger Lily does seem to have taken to you,’ he said.
‘And I to her, sir,’ said George.
‘I can’t wait to tell James Jack all about it when he returns with the rest of the dogs from their morning walk.’ The king smiled as George carried Woofer out of the room and back down to the kitchen.
Almost every day throughout the rest of February and March Woofer was sent for to play with Tiger Lily. Or else she found her own way to the kitchen.
The two puppies grew and grew and George went twice more to buy biscuits from Annie for them and the rest of the royal dogs.
Gran was pleased when he stopped to visit her on the way and Humphrey always sent something tasty with George for her to put in her soup. Nevertheless, George didn’t like how frail his gran was looking.
Annie had hardly been able to believe it when George had told her that the king wanted her to make biscuits for the royal dogs.
‘One of your kitchen experiments finally worked,’ Hannah Farriner said.
Annie blushed red. His Majesty had given his approval of her cooking. Now she was the king’s baker too or at least the king’s dogs’ baker.
‘It’s all very well wanting Annie to make more biscuits but where’s the money to pay for them?’ Mr Farriner said gruffly.
The sight of the coins the king had given George put Mr Farriner in a much better mood and he immediately forgave Annie for her kitchen experiments.
‘Maybe we should all start making dog biscuits,’ Hannah joked.
Every night when George lay down on his wooden pallet bed in the kitchen, Teeth, Claws and Scraps slept close to him. Woofer usually nestled on his chest with his head pressed under George’s chin.
‘Extra warmth,’ Humphrey laughed, ‘and the fleas’ll jump on them instead of you!’ But the fleas s
till bit George, as they bit everyone.
Late one April night, when Woofer couldn’t get to sleep, he gave George’s face a lick. George was finding it hard to sleep too because of the heat of the kitchen. Teeth, Claws and Scraps looked at him as they panted.
As soon as George stood up, the dogs followed him out into the Privy Garden.
George kept a watchful eye as the animals sniffed and played together, not completely sure that they were really allowed there.
Scraps was having a long drink from the ornamental fountain, and Teeth and Claws were playing as usual, racing round and round the garden in a joyful game of chase. George looked around for Woofer but he didn’t want to call out his name for fear of waking anyone, especially the king, in the buildings that overlooked the garden. So he hissed instead.
‘Woofer! Woofer – where are you?’
A dog’s hearing is so good he was sure that Woofer could hear him. But whether he came or not depended on how Woofer was feeling.
Upstairs in the king’s bedroom, Tiger Lily watched the kitchen dogs playing under the starry, moonlit sky from the window.
She wanted to be outside too and gave a whine as she saw George running towards Woofer, who was half hidden by a bush.
From the king’s bed behind her there came a loud snore.
Tiger Lily gave a sigh and rested her head on her paws.
‘Woofer,’ George hissed when he saw what the dog was doing. ‘Stop that!’
Woofer had dug down so far that only his wagging stub of a tail could now be seen.
At the sound of George’s voice Woofer emerged from the hole he’d been digging. His snout was covered in soil and his pebble-brown eyes were shining.
‘Look, I know you’re having fun …’
Woofer’s tail stub wagged his agreement.
‘But you can’t dig up the royal pineapple!’ George did his best to stuff the rotted fruit with the small white roots back into the hole from which it had been pulled, and then patted the earth down.
