by Renee Duke
“They wouldn’t have to go to foster homes,” said Jack. “Mummy and Daddy could adopt them, just like they did me.”
“Oh, you think Auntie Augusta and Uncle Gareth would go for that, do you? What do you plan to say? That you’ve always wanted brothers and have heard about a couple of kids who might do?”
“I could probably talk them into it. Last year one of my school chums lived with us for almost three months while his parents were in China. If anything had happened to them, I’m sure they would have let him stay on. He didn’t have any relatives to go to.”
“Well, it’s something to consider, I guess,” Paige conceded. “In the meantime, we’d better get them some breakfast.” Having finished her own, she hurriedly fixed a tray for the fugitives while Mrs. Purdom was still out of the room. She had just taken it down to them when the housekeeper returned.
“Where’s Paige?” she asked.
“We had an argument,” said Jack. “She said she didn’t want to eat at the same table as us. She took a tray down into the cellar.”
“The cellar? Why on earth didn’t she take it somewhere more pleasant? It’s even quite nice outside today.”
“Dad would say she’s looking for a dark place to go with her dark mood,” said Dane.
“I’d have thought it more sensible to look for a place that would brighten her mood. Still, girls her age are very sensitive. You two shouldn’t quarrel with her.”
“No, I guess we shouldn’t,” said Dane. “Never mind, Mrs. Purdom. We’ll go down and talk to her. Come on, Jack.”
When they got down to the storeroom, the princes were fully dressed, their nightgowns lying to one side.
“Miles thought it best we keep our clothes on underneath our night attire so that we could be ready for flight,” Dickon explained. “At what hour do you dress for the day?” he added, surveying his hosts’ T-shirts and shorts.
“We already are,” said Paige.
“But…but your limbs show,” said Ned. “You surely do not go out in public thus?”
Upon being told they did, the princes exchanged scandalized looks and turned their attention toward breakfast. The thinly sliced buttered toast did not resemble bread as they knew it, but they accepted it without question. The crackling bowls of cereal were another matter.
“Food should not make noise,” said Ned, somewhat disapprovingly, “but I suppose this substance has a pleasant enough flavour.” The tea he had more praise for. “What a remarkable beverage,” he said. “I like it well. ’Tis both calming and refreshing.”
“Spoken like a true Englishman,” said Paige.
When they had finished eating, Dickon asked when they would be able to leave the cellar.
“Not yet,” Dane told him. “There are a lot of things about our time you might find upsetting, or maybe even scary. We’ll get you some books and stuff to help you understand how things are nowadays. Then, when you know more about it—and we can think of a way to explain you to people—you can come out of hiding.”
“But—” Dickon began.
“Nay, brother,” said Ned, frowning. “’Tis the only course to follow. Look around you. Does this chamber alone not contain much that is strange to us? ’Tis only sensible to learn all we can before venturing from this place of safety.”
“’Tis no place of safety,” said Dickon, looking mutinous. “’Tis a prison, the same as the Tower.”
“But we’ll see to it that you have everything you can possibly want,” said Jack. “You won’t even have to leave the cellar to go to the privy. There’s a toilet down here. I’ll show it to you. I think you’ll find it quite interesting.”
They did. They each flushed it several times.
“Another seemingly magical device,” said Ned. “But if ’tis no longer necessary to haul water or empty privies, you must have no need of people to perform such tasks. Does that not leave much of the population idle?”
“Unemployment is a problem,” Dane admitted, surprised by his perception. “I guess every time has its good and bad points.”
They took the princes back to the storeroom to investigate some of the things stowed there. In addition to the chairs, sofa, and other pieces of furniture, there was an aquarium, a manual typewriter, a treadle sewing machine, a record player, an old cabinet radio, and the usual number of boxes containing dishes, hideous ornaments, and other odds and ends. The princes listened attentively as they explained how some of the things worked.
“Even these things are a bit out of date,” Jack informed them. “I’ve got a book on inventions through the ages at home and another on modern history. I think you’ll find them helpful.”
“I would also like to read an account of our time,” said Ned. “Of our uncle’s reign and beyond. I wish to know what befell those we have left behind.”
“Grantie’s got books on that. I’ll run up and fetch them,” said Jack.
He also collected Dane’s portable CD player and three CDs that had been up in their room. The first one he put in for the princes’ listening pleasure was a collection of classical pieces.
“Where are the musicians?” Dickon asked as the beautiful notes of Strauss’s “Blue Danube” filled the storeroom. “How can we hear music that is not being played?”
“It’s already been played,” said Dane. “You know how you can sometimes hear the echo of a word after someone shouts it? Well, we’ve found a way to hold on to sound and reproduce it anytime we want.”
The second CD had folk songs on it and the third, rock music.
The princes’ opinion of that one was unanimous.
“Horrible,” they declared.
“Mum and Dad think so, too,” said Dane, responding to their pleas to turn it off.
They stayed with the princes until Mrs. Purdom called them for lunch.
“So you’ve finally emerged,” said Grantie Etta, who was already seated at the table. “Lydia said you’d been down in the cellar all morning. Were you exploring the secret passage again?”
“No, just the cellar,” said Dane. “It’s quite interesting all by itself.”
“Really? Other than the passage, I thought it a bit dull when I was a child. Of course, I had to whole house to play in. The rooms that are shut up now weren’t used much then either. I used to spend hours wandering about them, thinking of all the people my father told me once lived here. My siblings were all considerably older than me, but I think they probably did the same. Most of us liked history, although I dare say Bertie and I were the ones who were the most passionate about it. And the most passionate about Rosebank, too. After the Great War took both Bertie and my other brother, Edward, Papa willed Rosebank to me. He knew I would cherish it as he did.”
“And your sisters didn’t mind?” said Dane.
“Lavinia did, but only on monetary grounds, not historic. Your great-great grandmother, Honoria, wasn’t bothered on either count. She’d probably be pleased to think you three were keen on the past, though. And you certainly seem to be. I was told you liked the Tower of London so much you wanted to pay it another visit.” She looked at them keenly. “Do you still need to?”
“No, it’s all right now,” said Jack.
“Is there anywhere else you’d like to go?”
“Just home. Socrates has to be fed, and there are one or two things we forgot to bring over here with us.”
“Yes, your mother said something about feeding the feline when she gave me her spare keys. I’ll have the car brought round for you after lunch.”
Mr. Dexter ran a taxi service out of his wife’s shop. He also drove Grantie Etta’s Rolls Royce sedan whenever she required a chauffeur. The children always enjoyed riding in the roller but remembered to smuggle some sandwiches down to the princes before they left.
At Jack’s house they fed and petted Socrates, who had not been taken to Rosebank with them. Though well able to intimidate Horace, he was—justifiably—afraid of Strawberry, who attacked him at every opportunity. They then
gathered up several items they thought might be useful to the princes and did some errands with Mr. Dexter before returning to Rosebank.
An agitated Mrs. Purdom met them at the door. “Oh, good. I’m so glad you’ve brought them back,” she said to Mr. Dexter. “Perhaps they’ll be able to calm our little visitor down.”
“Visitor?” said Mr. Dexter.
“Yes. He’s in the sitting room. Miss Wolverton was having a lie-down when Chloe found him. It’s too bad she brought that guest of yours with her when she came to do the cleaning today. I dare say it was her that upset the poor child.”
Dane looked at Paige. Paige looked at Jack. Jack looked at Dane.
All three were thinking the same thing.
“You found a kid in the sitting room?” Dane said uneasily.
“Yes, just a few minutes ago. He’s a strange little chap. Chloe didn’t even know he was there until she started on the sitting room carpet. From the way he carried on, you’d think he’d never seen a—”
They didn’t wait for her to finish. They raced into the sitting room. Just as they had feared, they found a terrified Dickon cowering under a table.
Chapter Eighteen
Pudgy little Horace was under the table, too, snuffling around the intruder inquisitively. Across the room, the more aggressive Strawberry kept screeching, “Off with his head,” but even that did not seem to be alarming Dickon as much as having Cousin Ophelia crouching beside him talking in a bubbly, high-pitched voice.
“Come on out, sweetie. No one’s going to hurt you. We didn’t mean to scare you like that. That vacuum cleaner’s sure a noisy one, isn’t it? It’s enough to startle anyone. Chloe didn’t know you were in here when she turned it on. You kind of scared us, too. But we know you’re not a burglar or anything. You’re way too cute for that. You probably just came here to ask if you could be in my cousin’s documentary, didn’t you? It’s too bad it’s finished. That’s a great little costume you’ve got.”
“Leave the kid alone,” said Mr. Dexter, striding in behind them. “You’ll get him in a right state nattering on at him like that.”
Mrs. Purdom prodded Dane forward. “I think we should let the other children talk to him. He might not find them as threatening.”
“He doesn’t find me threatening.” Cousin Ophelia changed her voice to a soft croon. “You don’t, do you, honeybun? You know I’m just trying to help.” She stood up and regarded the other adults solemnly. “It might be better if you let me handle this on my own. This child is in extreme emotional distress. I am beginning to establish a bond with him. He views me as his anchor. I have to go on being soothing and supportive if I am to help him through this trauma. Some unresolved negative experience in his past is obviously manifesting itself here. It’s been triggered by something he associates with that painful time. The sound of the vacuum cleaner, the sudden appearance of strangers, even the colour of Chloe’s dress. There’s no knowing until we examine it a little more closely.”
“What utter twaddle!” said Grantie Etta, as she came in leaning on her walking stick. “There’s nothing wrong with the boy. He’s having a perfectly sensible reaction to meeting you. I felt the same myself when Alan introduced us.”
Cousin Ophelia looked at her sadly. “Yes, I felt you distance yourself from me at our initial meeting.”
“And I intend to distance myself even more. Reg, Chloe, get this wretched woman out of my house.”
“But the boy—” Cousin Ophelia began.
“Your departure will do wonders for him,” Grantie Etta assured her. “Remove her, Reg.”
Mr. Dexter took the protesting Cousin Ophelia by the arm and, with his daughter’s help, propelled her out of the room.
“Did you lock up behind them, Lydia?” Grantie Etta inquired when the housekeeper returned from escorting them to the door. Mrs. Purdom nodded. “Good. Do the back door as well. And keep an eye on the windows. If that meddlesome baggage tries to get back in, call the police.”
Mrs. Purdom stopped to shoo Horace away from Dickon before setting out on patrol. Smiling down at him she said, “It’s all right, dear. She’s gone.”
Grantie Etta went across to her chair to try to distract both her dog and her parrot with treats. She suggested that Dane and the others take Dickon to a place they thought he might feel more comfortable. Nodding, Dane and Paige knelt down and gently drew him out from under the table.
“It’s okay, Dickon. It’s safe to come out now,” Paige told the terrified boy.
“Come with us,” Dane coaxed. “We’ll take you back to Ned. Come on. It’ll be all right.”
Dickon allowed them to help him up and meekly followed them out of the room.
Paige gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as they waited for Dane and Jack to retrieve the carrier bag and cooler they had left in the hall. Dane then led everyone down to the cellar, where Ned was frantically searching for his brother. Absorbed in the books he’d been brought, he had only just noticed Dickon’s absence. He rushed to the bottom of the steps, demanding to know what had happened.
“He’s had a bit of a fright,” Paige informed him.
As she explained, Ned’s concerned expression changed to one of anger. With complete disregard for modern views on the dangers of shaking children, he seized Dickon and proceeded to shake him until his teeth rattled.
“Did I not say that ’twas best for us to remain hidden until we knew more of this time?” he raged. “And did Dane not say that he must think of a way to explain our presence in it? What danger have you placed us in with your folly?”
“None,” Dane assured him. “Our people upstairs have no reason to think he’s anything but what our Cousin Ophelia said—a kid who wandered into the house looking for the film unit that’s been here doing a documentary—that’s sort of a moving picture story—about your time.”
“And with Cousin Ophelia there, they’ll probably put his strange behaviour down to her,” said Paige. “She has that effect on people.”
“They truly will not seek us?” Ned said as they returned to the storeroom.
“No, you’re still safe,” said Dane.
“We are not safe,” Dickon wailed. “Nothing about this time is safe. I hate this time. I want to go back to my own.”
Dane quickly took a CD of Gregorian chants out of the carrier bag and slipped it into the CD player to calm him.
After a few minutes, it did.
“You see?” said Dane. “You just have to get used to our time. Before long, it’ll be as familiar to you as this is.”
“I do not want it to become familiar,” Dickon said stubbornly. “I want to go home.”
“Well, you can’t,” said Paige, flopping onto the sofa.
“We must,” said Ned. The others looked at him. “Even if we could learn to accept the strangeness of it, this time is not ours. We belong to another. ’Tis our duty to return to it.”
He held up one of Grantie Etta’s books. “This states that the crown our uncle took from me will not be his for long. But he had far more right to it than the perfidious Lancastrian dog who took it from him. Henry Tudor did not even fight in the Battle of Bosworth. ’Twas left to his minions to slay our uncle, hacking at him with sword and axe long after the point of death. His body was stripped and slung across the back of a horse. The wretches then placed a halter around his neck and led his corpse through the streets as though he were a…a common criminal. He was not even allowed proper burial—his bones hidden away in some lowly place from which they were but recently, in this, our friends’ time, unearthed. I know not what a ‘parking lot’ is, but am certain it was not a fit resting place for an anointed king. Tudor then tried to date his reign from the day before the battle and claim that all who fought for Uncle Richard were traitors. What manner of man does that?”
“A coward with no sense of honour or chivalry!” said Dickon, horrified. “We must return, if only to let men know we are willing to stand with our uncle against this usurper you have
read of.”
“Nay. Our return will not change what happened at Bosworth. Though Uncle Richard was blamed for our disappearance, those who betrayed him did not do so on our account. Much of what was said against him in regards to us was not said until after Tudor had won the day. ’Twas greed and petty grievances that caused the men our uncle trusted to turn against him. Tudor will lead them to treason whether we return to our time or no.”
“Then we must put forth your claim and end the villain’s reign ere it even begins,” said Dickon.
“Again, nay. I have also read how others of our family fared at the hands of the Tudor. If we were to return ’twould behoove us to seek a quiet life under his rule.”
“What’s the point in going back then?” Dane asked, puzzled.
“Simply to…be there and survive by wit and prudence in the time we were meant to live in. That is more honourable than hiding away in a time not our own.” He threw back his shoulders and lifted his head high. “We are, after all, Plantagenets.”
At that moment, Ned also looked very much like a Plantagenet king. The other boys looked at him admiringly. So did Paige, but she brought them all down to earth with her next words. “That’s all very well, but it doesn’t change the fact that you can’t return to your own time.”
“Are you certain?” said Ned. “Is there truly no way to bring it about?”
Dane shook his head. “Not without a Keeper Piece to connect to.”
“Did you not say there were several?”
“Yes, but they were scattered around the world,” said Paige. “There might not have been any others in England in your time.”
“There’s the bracelet,” said Dane, remembering. “Elizabeth of York has a bracelet that’s a Keeper Piece. At least, I’m pretty sure she does. Ned?”
“Aye. ’Tis a wide band bracelet, and the roses round it be similar to the one on the ring. But did you not give us to understand your medallion’s strange power only formed connections between children? Bess is seventeen. She is no longer a child.”
