by Robin Jarvis
Closing the cab’s rear door as gently as he could, he gazed back at the flickering glare of the fires crackling in the broken shell of Fellows End.
Spencer leaned against the bonnet.
“You think there was any truth to what she said?” he asked thoughtfully. “About there being a way to kill Austerly Fellows for good?”
“I doubt it, but we’ll never know for certain. Now get in. Before we make that final journey to Kent, we desperately need to recharge. We’ve been doing far too much cliff jumping. I feel more like a clapped-out lemming than Butch Cassidy. I really am feeling my age. I’m just about spent, Spence. Eun-mi needs a long, healing sleep and I need the therapeutic cheer of a really strong black coffee. Luckily the place I’ve got in mind caters for both and is the only establishment in the whole of Felixstowe where you can get a decent espresso.”
They got into the car and Gerald reversed on to the lane.
“Besides,” he said, casting one last look in the mirror at the snaking column of glowing embers, rising like a swarm of fiery wasps above the trees, “going to that house wasn’t the only reason why I had to come back here.”
Spencer waited for him to supply the other, but, as they drove on, and Gerald fell quiet, he had to prompt him.
“Because,” Gerald explained a little reluctantly, “when Martin and I had to leave in such a hurry, over a year ago… I left someone behind.”
17
“GET YOU HENCE!” the Queen of Hearts commanded sternly. “This is no menagerie for you to be gawking. This young fellow is sore afflicted. He must have peace and rest.”
“Quite so, quite so,” agreed the Court Physician who had bumbled in after her, carrying his wooden chests and leather pouches.
The maids and ladies-in-waiting who had thronged about the bed drew back reluctantly. The mysterious stranger that the Holy Enchanter had brought back to the castle was the sole topic of conversation and they were hungry for news of him. Even the village was agog, for the blacksmith had been summoned in the middle of the night to free the boy from strange fetters.
Their curious stares were glued to the occupant of the bed and they didn’t want to leave.
“Bless me!” gasped one of them. “What fiendish creature spits poison that can turn flesh so black? Were it one of Haxxentrot’s evil crew? Is it still abroad? Are we as like to get bit by this monster?”
“Foolish talk and nonsense,” the Queen of Hearts said sternly. “This fellow is as he was ever intended. The hue of his skin is no malady. He is from a different realm, that is all. He is the Castle Creeper; you must have heard rumour of him. Now begone and let the Physician minister to his hurts.”
“For all his blackness,” another of the girls said with a lascivious wink as she shooed them out of the door, “he’s a fair-faced fellow.”
The Queen of Hearts scowled at her and chased her out with a waggle of her plump hands.
“Save us from lusting wenches,” she sighed. “’Tis task enough to keep my eyes upon my own wayward daughter. ’Tis a wonder we are not overrun with infants in Mooncaster.”
The Physician mumbled as he nodded and busied himself with changing the bandage round the patient’s leg.
“And everyone at such odds with one another lately,” he said. “There has been a bumper harvest of quarrels and bruises this summer.”
The Queen of Hearts agreed. Fights and squabbles erupted hourly nowadays. Only yesterday her husband had rowed with the King of Diamonds over some trifling matter and the King of Diamonds had determined to go hunting today so as not to have to sit with them at the tournament.
“And he hates the hunt, that one,” she muttered to herself. “How like boys all men are.”
She returned her attention to the Castle Creeper.
“The poor young princeling,” she clucked with a pitying shake of the head. “I shall cull fresh herbs this very day from my garden and supply you with salves and unguents of healing virtue.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the Physician replied with a grateful bow as he opened one of his chests and took out a glass jar. “That will be most beneficial I am sure. But first we must let out the badness that has entered in through these vicious bites. I shall put the leeches on him and restore the balance of his humours. There can be no remedy without the leeches. They are a patient’s most bosom friend and our infantry against all galloping ailments. Then I must away to the tournament and make ready for the steady stream of the battered and the broken.”
Using a pair of silver tongs worn on a long chain about his neck, he dipped into the jar and removed a glistening leech.
Suddenly his wrist was caught in a tight grip.
“If you is thinkin’ ’bout puttin’ that vampire snot on me, anyplace,” Lee growled, “you is gonna get this here thing rammed right up where there ain’t no weather.”
The Physician saw that the boy’s other hand was clutching a candlestick. He winced and wriggled uncomfortably.
“What a glory it is to see you awake and so robust of temper,” he declared, returning the leech to the jar with quivering fingers.
“And such a fine morning to greet you, Master Creeper!” greeted the Queen of Hearts as she bobbed a dumpy curtsy.
Lee put the iron candlestick back on the table beside the bed and took in his surroundings.
It was a large, comfortable room, with panelled wood on the walls, carved with the crest of the Royal House of Hearts, which also featured in a stone shield surmounting the fireplace, where cheerful flames crackled in the hearth. Rays of sunlight streamed in through a large window and a pair of song thrushes were warbling on the sill. His bed was hung with tapestries and covered with luxurious furs and velvet cushions fringed with golden tassels.
Lee rolled his eyes. It was always too much here. Then he noticed what he was wearing. His North Korean clothes had been replaced by a voluminous cotton nightshirt with baggy sleeves and ruffles at the neck.
“Say what?” he groaned in disgust. “Aw, man, this is so not cool – and who the hell took off my pants?”
He looked at the man in the sober black gown with matching hat, then at the woman in dark red taffeta, wearing a coronet studded with small rubies. He thought he knew what all the prime characters looked like here, but he’d never seen her face before.
“My good husband’s own personal valet attended you when you were brought in,” she said. “There was no impropriety.”
“Who’s you?” he asked bluntly.
“This is Her Majesty, the Queen of Hearts,” the Physician told him. “A most tender-hearted lady, and exceeding accomplished in the ways of physic and herb lore.”
Lee studied her keenly. “You had Botox or a lift or what?” he asked her. “Cos there ain’t no way you got the same head as before. Guess somethin’ musta happened to the main player back home. Now that is interestin’.”
The Under Queen did not understand him. “Riddles on an empty stomach cannot be good for your recovery,” she said, bustling out of the room. “I shall inform the Lord Ismus you are awake at last.”
“Breakfast, yeah – that’s a great idea. My guts is roaring. Don’t you bring me no soup or broth or no thin gruel though. I’ll throw it right back at ya. I’m sick of warm slop. And get me my clothes!”
“The maid will bring you breakfast,” the Physician told him. “And we shall see about your vestments. Alas, it was necessary to cut off your breeches, but the other garments were sent to the washhouse. No doubt they will be returned soon. Now may I continue with my examination?”
“You ain’t no proper doctor,” Lee said, waving him away. “I wouldn’t trust you to squeeze a zit. There ain’t no real medicines in this place, it’s all pins and sucky slugs, magic plasters and letting out bile.”
“I assure you,” the Physician began, greatly affronted, “I have studied and practised these many years…”
“Bull!” Lee interrupted. “You studied squat, you is just a made-up character in a book who I
ain’t lettin’ anywhere near me. My old gran’ma was more of a doctor than you. Leastways her bathroom cupboard was full of better drugs than you’ll ever get your medieval hands on.”
The Physician slammed the lid of the leech chest sharply and drew himself up.
“No one has ever had cause to question my skill before,” he said indignantly.
“Maybe they didn’t live long enough,” the boy remarked.
“I shall bid you good morrow, Master Creeper. Courtly manners are certainly in short supply in the realm from whence you hail. Yet I shall be charitable and ascribe it to your injury and the overlong slumber. Now I go to where my expertise will not be derided. The lists make much work for me.”
“Wait!” Lee called as the man strode huffily towards the door. “How’d you mean ‘overlong’? How long I been out cold?”
“It is two nights since they brought you in,” the Physician told him brusquely. “And I have tended your wounds and bound your leg afresh ever since. What you need most is to stay abed and you should move about as little as possible. You will find the abrasions at your wrists well on the way to mending, but of course that is in no part down to my skill – it must be the autumn breeze and the jocund song of the throstle.”
With that final sarcastic comment, he departed, taking his paraphernalia with him.
Lee sucked his teeth and inspected the bandages around his leg. At least they were clean and it wasn’t throbbing. Maybe the doctor guy knew a thing or two after all. He wondered what Doctor Choe back in North Korea would have made of this medieval medicine.
“She took more blood outta me than a hundred of them leeches ever could,” he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed and leaning on the stout wooden bedpost as he put his weight on the floor.
“Not too bad,” he said. “They won’t be carving me no stump just yet.”
Taking it slowly, he crossed to the window. The thrushes hopped about and welcomed him with their song.
“Take it and shove it,” he growled. The birds flew off.
Lee leaned on the sill and gazed out across the battlements of the White Castle. It was a glorious day in Mooncaster. The morning sun was burning away the early mist that had risen off the moat. Horses were stamping on cobbles as they were led out of the stables by whistling grooms, the hounds were barking for young Bertolf to bring their breakfast, a maid was singing as she hurried about her duties. The tramp of heavy boots signalled the changing of the Punchinello warders and generous sprinkles of carefree laughter abounded.
Outside the walls, the peasants of the village had been about their chores for many hours. From his high window in the West Tower, Lee could see the main street winding between the quaint thatched cottages of Mooncot. From there it stretched beyond the mill, across the green countryside – towards the woods and forests that covered the slopes of the encircling hills.
“Who wouldn’t want to believe this was real?” he murmured to himself. “Every day a new slice of perfect.”
His wandering gaze continued to rove. Banners and pennants were being hoisted over the tilt yard that had been constructed outside the castle. There was to be a day of jousting and, in the meadow, livestock was being herded into pens and produce was being arranged on stalls.
“Must be some big day,” he said.
“’Tis the harvest fayre!” a voice declared behind him.
Lee turned. A girl had entered without him realising. She placed a tray bearing a delicious-looking breakfast on a low table near the fire. Lee’s stomach made a noise like a sea monster locked in a cupboard. He really was ravenous and hadn’t seen proper food like that since the first days of the camp. There was bacon, ham, cold chicken, eggs, mushrooms, fresh crusty bread and a jug of watered wine. He was relieved to see there were no sausages.
Then he realised who the girl was. It was the Jill of Hearts. She had met the maid on the stairs and had insisted, in the strongest terms, on taking the tray from her. The maid had been sent away with her ears boxed.
Tossing her auburn hair over her shoulders, Jill turned her most winning smile on him.
“This day the simple peasant folk celebrate the turning of the seasons and hold an outdoor feast. It does not match our harvest revel here in the Great Hall, but it gives them much pleasure and the merrymaking can continue till after cockcrow. Much coupling occurs in the fields, to ensure next year’s crops are plentiful.”
“Nice for them thar poor folks, huh?” Lee said, limping to the table.
“Here, let me aid you,” she offered, hurrying to take his arm.
“I can manage,” he declined, brushing her away as she stroked his sleeve. “Don’t you got no princessin’ stuff to do?”
“My hours are mine own to spend as I please,” she answered, moving into the sunlight so that it picked out the glints in her hair. “And I choose to spend them with you.”
Lee took a swig out of the jug, then poured some into a goblet before taking a bite out of the bread.
“You have a prodigious appetite, Creeper,” she said admiringly. “You must rebuild your strength.”
The boy was too busy tucking into the breakfast to answer. Jill lingered in the sunlight a few moments more, but he never once turned to look at her, so she wandered nonchalantly over to the fireplace and ran her fingers over the stonework. When he raised his eyes from the plate, he would see how beautiful her profile was. Lifting her face into a pose that suggested a winsome nymph, she waited for him to notice.
And waited.
“Hey,” Lee addressed her at length, when her neck was aching.
She turned round prettily, her eyes sparkling with promise.
“Could you go the washhouse and find me my clothes?” he asked. “I gotta get outta of this Wee Willy Winkie nighty. Gerald mighta liked this kinda thing, but it ain’t for me.”
Jill was taken aback. “I shall call for a maid,” she said.
“Why? You just said you got nuthin’ better to do than hang around here. I’m guessing the maids and the serfs are kept real busy in this place, skivvying for the likes of you. Get off your lazy royal ass and be useful.”
The girl was at a loss for words. She started walking to the door then stopped and perched on the bed in one last attempt.
“I can be very useful,” she said with her most beguiling smile as she ran her fingers through her hair.
Lee drained a second goblet and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Look,” he began, “this slut thing you’re doin’, it’s cheap and it’s nasty. Baxter told me all about who you was – who all his pupils were. You is Sandra Dixon. He said you was real quiet and smart. Sounds a bit dull, but kinda sweet. Don’t you never think about that no more?”
“I am the Jill of Hearts!” she said, not understanding his words. “Shall I prove unto you that I am every inch a princess?”
She ran her fingers provocatively over her bosom and Lee kicked back from the table.
“You want to be a ho,” he snapped in annoyance, “that ain’t none of my business, but don’t try it on me, cos I ain’t even window-shoppin’ let alone buyin’ what you got on discount. I know it’s just the way you was writ and that’s a shame, cos what I’m seein’ here right now is plain desperate, girl. Get some self-respect and dignity. Try bein’ better than how that book made you.”
The Jill of Hearts’ face burned angrily and she jumped off the bed as if it was on fire. She had never been spoken to like that before. How dare he insult the daughter of an Under King this way? She was so furious she couldn’t begin to think of a fitting retort. She stormed up to him and raised a hand to strike his face.
“You do that and I guarantee you will lose teeth,” he promised her.
“You would not dare lay a finger on a princess!” she exclaimed.
Lee laughed at her. “Ain’t that what you was just gaggin’ for?”
“Insolent rogue! How…?”
“I’ll just say this once,” he said in a quiet, calm voice that was
more threatening than any fierce shout. “And you can spread the word. You, and the rest of the royals here, ain’t nuthin’. If you get in my way, if you so much as say the wrong thing to me, I will mess up your faces real bad. I don’t got no time for your crap. I’m gonna be doin’ somethin’ a whole lot worse to someone with a better family tree than any of you, real soon. So stay clear, you hearin’ me? Now take your skank game outta here and leave me in peace.”
Jill felt as though she had been slapped. She staggered backwards then hurried away, frightened, humiliated and fuming.
“And send me my goddamn clothes!” he called after her.
It was afternoon by the time the valet returned with Lee’s Korean shirt and boots. His underpants and one sock had gone missing and he cursed under his breath. Buttoning his shirt up, he couldn’t help smiling at the home-made Nike tick that Maggie had once sewn on it for him. But he mustn’t think of her or the others, not now. They were dead. It wasn’t easy.
“Remember what matters,” he repeated to himself. “Just stay fixed on what you gotta do.”
The valet had provided a selection of hose to wear, but Lee threw them right back at him. Finally, because he had to wear something, he settled on a pair of brown leather hunting breeches and was glad there were no full-length mirrors to show how dorky he looked.
After the splendid breakfast and that long refreshing sleep, which had been free from the usual nightmares, Lee was straining to be up and active. Against the Physician’s instructions, he left the bedchamber and made his way carefully down the West Tower. The Ismus had not yet appeared, so he went in search of him. The sooner he found out where the Bad Shepherd was, the sooner he could get this thing over with.
The noise and cheers of the joust filled the day and most inhabitants of the castle were out there enjoying themselves. Lee was reminded of the time he had brought Charm here. That too had been a similar day of tournaments, although they never saw any of it. This time it was different; there was no need to hide and sneak about. The few people he did meet bowed, greeting him respectfully as ‘Creeper’, or merely stared open-mouthed, for everybody knew his identity.
