Chapter Two
It had begun to rain and a silvery sprinkle of drizzle was soaking them all as they stood huddled in the alley. People had started waking in many of the houses. The shutters were being lifted down and windows showed the flickering light of new lit candles as people rolled from their beds and prepared for work on the new chilly day.
“Folks will shout and wave brooms at us if they see us,” said Alfie. “They think we’re thieves and cut-purses, ‘cos sometimes we sleep in the streets. So come on. Let’s go.”
He turned, and not knowing what else to do, Nathan followed. The rain was in his eyes and dripping from his hair onto his face, while the shoulders of his pyjamas were soon soaked. They hurried down the alleys until they ran into a much wider road, and finally stood on a grassy bank looking across at the river. The shadows were gradually lifting and a pale hint of light hung over the river’s darkness.
Alfie was grinning. “Now we usually bunker down in this old warehouse,” he said, nodding towards a ramshackle building beside them. “Gets a bit cold sometimes with the wind coming upriver, but it don’t feel too bad and there’s no one to bother us.”
John muttered, under his breath, “Ain’t no one dares.”
Nathan stared at the warehouse. Tucked between larger buildings, it seemed to be toppling over, and was kept up by wooden beams crossing its walls. Nathan had heard of the old buildings made of plaster and lathe, and here, where the plaster was cracked and broken, he could see the lathe within. There were no windows at all and the roof had big gaps in the tiles. “Looks draughty,” he muttered.
“Used to be a storage for wine kegs,” Alice said. “But not anymore so we sneaked in and made it home. There’s places where the rain and snow comes in but there’s nice warm corners too. We’ve all got straw beds and real blankets. We’re luckier than some.”
“I wanted to be an apprentice once,” nodded Alfie, “but they wouldn’t have me ‘cos I got no mother nor father and they threw me out. But I don’t care, we look after ourselves.”
The three younger boys were pushing Alfie from behind. Sam said, “Quick. Tis still raining. Let’s get back inside.”
Inside it was as big and empty as a deserted barn. The drizzle had puddled the dirty old floorboards, and it was dark and dingy, but it was better in than out. Alice pointed towards the side where the back wall leaned inwards, as though buffeted by wind. There were several piles of dry straw, and a squash of colourless blankets. In the middle of the space near these beds lay a slab of stone and on top was a pile of twigs and ashes, with a little black iron pot sitting on the floor nearby. “I’ll light the fire,” said Alice, “and boil some pottage. Are you hungry, Nat?”
Nathan was about to complain and say his name wasn’t Nat, when he remembered that he had himself said that was his name. “Hungry?” He thought a moment. “Not really. But I suppose it’s time for breakfast. Though I usually have a boiled egg and toast. What’s pottage?”
Alfie laughed, but it was a much nicer laugh than Brewster Hazlett’s. “I don’t know what toast is,” Alfie said, “but pottage is the best after a cold night. Come sit near the fire.”
The boys were running around in a bustle, playing with each other and chasing. The two younger ones pulled up their blankets to wrap around their shoulders and finally they all sat to watch as Alice lit the fire with what she called a tinder box, put an iron trivet over the flames and sat the pot on top. She began stirring the pot’s contents with a large wooden spoon. “Won’t be long. But we’ve got no platters so you’ll have to share straight from the pot like everyone else.”
The small fire lit the space and Nathan was able to look around and see more clearly. Not that there was much to see. The little flames seemed hesitant at first, just a golden hiss and dither. Then they flared and a real welcoming heat swept out. Smoke puffed up. Nathan gazed up at the high ceiling, held up by dark beams, and at the walls which were flaking their grubby plaster. Then he jumped as something brushed past his bare feet. He had been wriggling his toes, trying to get warm again, but now he quickly moved away. “What was that?”
Alice giggled. “Just Mouse.”
“You’ve got mice here?” Nathan stared down, but the shadow was far too big for an ordinary mouse. “Not rats, are they?” he said with dislike.
Alfie had leaned back on the floor, his sheepskin cape as a cushion beneath his head. “’Course we got rats,” he said. “Every place along the river’s got rats. They come in on the big ships, but it’s Mouse that frightens most of them away. Mouse is our cat. Look.”
Mouse now sat at Nathan’s feet, looking up with a complacent smile. She had only one ear, and her fur was mottled black, grey and white in a hundred curled stripes. She was purring, whiskers aquiver.
“Likes you.”
Sam, who had been reaching for Mouse, now quickly leaned back with a pout of disappointment. Everyone now sat in a circle around the fire, their blankets over their heads and snuggled over their wet shirts, bare feet poking out and dirty toes wriggling in pleasure as the fire began to blaze. Only Alice stood, stirring the pot.
The pottage, when heated, was far more pleasant than Nathan had expected. They all passed the pot around, drinking from the same big wooden spoon. Nathan discovered it was a sort of stew so full of chunks and lumps that he didn’t know what it all was. But it tasted good. He wished there had been more of it, but after only a few gulps, Alfie yawned. “We bin up all night and now reckon tis time to sleep,” he said. “But not on the straw, we don’t want to risk sparks from the fire. So we cuddle up here on the floor next to them hot ashes, and we sleep.” He grinned at Nathan. “I got two blankets. You can have one.”
Nathan was thankful for that. Even next to the fire, it was chilly and his back was caught in a draught. There was no chimney and not even any windows, so the smoke from the flames just puffed in big grey clumps, very hazy and bad smelling. It made Nathan cough but everyone else seemed accustomed to it.
Within moments each of them had curled up, snuggling under the blankets, legs spooning one behind the other to share body warmth. Nathan found himself squashed between Alfie and John Ten-Toes, with the cat pushing up beside his face. Mouse’s whiskers tickled Nathan’s nose, the cat purred and dribbled happily on his ear, and gradually one by one they all went to sleep.
Nathan was the last to close his eyes. He had already slept that night, but his sleep had certainly been very much interrupted and he was now exhausted. Even cat dribble couldn’t keep him awake. But he hoped beyond hope that when he awoke again, he would find himself back home in his own bed with his grandmother bringing him a glass of hot milk, telling him it was time for school.
But that’s not the way it happened.
Nathan opened his eyes to the gaze of bright blue eyes looking back at him. He could feel cat dribble down his neck, the fire had gone out and he was cold, the blanket covered all of him except his feet which stuck out like chocolate ice lollies although it was dried mud and not chocolate, and he was most definitely not back snug in his own home. He sat up, stretched, and dislodged mouse, who meowed a complaint. They were Alfie’s eyes staring down at him, and Alfie lurched back.
“Just wanted to know,” Alfie explained, “if you was awake.”
Well, “I am now.”
“Then it’s time to move,” Alice called. She was stamping out the last little sparks from the fire, and trying to tie back her long tangled hair with a ribbon at the same time. “We’re late,” she said. “We slept in. Now we have to get to work.”
Once again Nathan was confused. He rubbed the last grains of sleep from his eyes and mumbled, “Work? Don’t you mean school?”
Alice giggled and with a sniff, Alfie said, “We can’t pay for no schooling. You got rich parents or something? And we gotta work or we can’t eat.”
Alice had stamped out the hot ashes but now she was rubbing the little burns from her bare feet. “Down the market,” she explained. “We need to grab w
hat we can from the stalls, and then run like mad.”
The gloom inside the warehouse was unchanged and no sunlight crept under the closed door. Nathan scrambled up, the blanket still around his shoulders. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh or complain. “You mean you steal things? Last night you told me people take brooms to you because they think you’re thieves. But you really are thieves.”
John Ten-Toes rubbed his nose, which was as wet as mouse’s, and snuffled, “Ain’t no need for insults. We ain’t thieves. We just take stuff. We’s just hungry.”
Nathan looked down at him. Yes, the boy certainly had ten toes, very dirty ones, but then so did he, so Nathan said, “So you steal food?”
“We get what we can,” said Alfie, a bit crossly. “Food, money, clothes, blankets. You think we just ortta sit in the gutters and die?”
“Sorry,” said Nathan, reluctantly giving back the blanket. “What time is it anyway?”
Alfie looked astonished. “How should I know?”
But when they pushed open the wide wooden warehouse doors, the sunlight flooded in. Beyond the grassy verge, the river was calm and seemed spangled with reflections, glittering in the brightness. All along the river there were little boats full of people being rowed up and down the Thames. The narrow road leading to the warehouse was also glittering, for the night’s rain had left the ground wet and now the sunshine lit the puddles. Nathan stared, amazed. He suddenly realised how beautiful it all was.
The splash of the oars was constant from what seemed like a hundred little boats of different sizes going in different directions and their occupants shouting as they passed each other. “Mind, you’re too close.” “Watch out, idiot, you just bumped me.” “It’s a bright morning, Elsie, are you off to the market?” “Tis busy on the south side. See you in Southwark later.” And, “Have you heard about the queen? They say she’s sick.”
There were gulls and ravens wheeling in the sky above, swooping down for fish or raking through the rubbish in the gutters. People were bustling through the streets too, dogs were barking, there were huge puffs of smoke spiralling up from all the chimneys, and the sky was bright blue with just a few hazy clouds. Although the sun was bright, the air was still frosty and Nathan guessed it was still morning.
“Come on,” Alfie yelled, “Keep to the shadows. Don’t make too much noise, and when we get to the shambles, we separate.”
Not ever having heard of the shambles, Nathan kept close behind Alfie, running away from the river and into the long dark lanes leading north. He tried to see everything as he ran, for the busy city was nothing like the London where he lived. These streets were far narrower and the houses were smaller and closer together. There were hundreds of little shops where the front window had been opened into a wooden counter, and the shopkeeper sat outside on a stool, inviting passers-by in to see his wares. The smell of new baked bread was delicious, and there were perfumes of herbs and spices, hot pies, new cut reeds for weaving, simmering porridge and sharp rich cheeses.
But there were bad smells too, with tanned hides, sacks of coal, and the bloody stench of raw meat hanging in the butchers’ shops. Worst of all was the stink of sewerage. Nathan realised that the wet slippery central gutters were full of nasty things that he didn’t want to step into.
His bare feet were sore, but he wasn’t cold anymore and he was fascinated by everything they passed. Buildings were all made of plaster with thick wooden beams on the outside, and windows were small and the glass was held in tiny diamond shapes within leaden frames. Most different of all were the clothes the people were wearing. Women wore long dresses and cloaks, with their hair covered by hats and cloth headdresses. The men wore fancy doublets over tight stockings that hugged their legs, with short capes and grand feathered hats. Nathan was embarrassed to be wearing just his striped pyjamas, but he thought all the other people looked even stranger.
Then watching from a short distance, Nathan saw Alfie grabbing two apples from an open stall and then turn to run away. But he had been seen by the stall owner, who shouted, “Stop thief,” and then there was chaos.
Alfie ran full speed in the opposite direction, with John Ten-Toes close at his heels. Nathan made a split-second decision and followed fast behind. They ran along a huge road full of shops and open stalls, ducking behind awnings and whizzing around the clumps of people. The stall owner who had lost his two apples was running hard too, and in his heavy shoes his footsteps vibrated and echoed. He continued to shout, “Stop thief,” and soon other people joined in the shout and the chase.
Nathan, John and Alfie turned quickly and ran into a dark lane with a squelchy mud filled gutter, and from there into an even narrower lane where the little houses seemed to be tipping together with their roofs touching and blocking out the sky and the light.
Bang, bang, the stall owner’s shoes clomped past. The shouting and calling disappeared into the distance. Nathan felt safer. The boys huddled together, keeping very still in the dark shadows. Alfie put his finger to his lips and shook his head when Nathan started to whisper something, but he began to eat one of the apples hungrily, and handed the other to John. Nathan didn’t want to eat a stolen apple but there was not enough anyway.
Very gradually and quietly they began to creep from their hiding place when suddenly a loud voice boomed over their heads. “And what do we have here?” said the voice, gruff and deep. “Three grubby brats trying to hide from the law, it seems. I heard the cry ‘Stop thief’ and now I see I’ve found the thieves.”
Nathan shivered, peering up. A very wide shouldered and exceedingly fat man was staring down at them. He was dressed in the most amazing clothes Nathan had ever seen, with a shining coat of scarlet velvet down to his knees, and open to show gleaming taffeta and satin beneath. His legs were muscled, held in tight black stockings over short blue boots. The man had red hair to his ears, cut straight, beneath a huge red hat with a peacock feather blowing in the breeze.
“Oh, no,” muttered Alfie. “It’s him.”
John glared up at the grand man. “You’ve no right ta stop us, nor touch us. We ain’t done nuffing ta you.”
But the big man ignored this, saying, “And where’s the rest of your nasty little gang? Run off and left you, have they? So, now, tell me where Alice is, and I’ll let you go. Otherwise it’s off to gaol with you.” He was staring with evident interest at Nathan’s pyjamas, and frowned, ginger eyebrows lowered. But Nathan said nothing, and squashed back against the wall behind him.
“I ain’t telling,” Alfie said, stepping forwards. “Alice can go where she likes and you can’t stop her. Besides, I don’t know where she is now. Run off, she did, wiv the others.”
The large, richly dressed man grabbed Alfie by his raggedy shirt collar, and hauled him closer. “Then you come with me, thief, and we’ll have a nice cosy word with the Constable.”
Struggling and cursing, Alfie was hauled away, and Nathan and John Ten-Toes were left alone, gazing at the disappearing shadows. “Don’t tell Alice,” wailed Alfie’s voice, trailing off, and was gone.
“What do we do now?” whispered Nathan.
“Dunno. Go kick the wall. Jump in the river. Curse,” suggested John with a sniff. “But I reckon we just get back home.”
Chapter Three
John Ten-Toes, still munching on his ill-gotten apple, led Nathan back to the warehouse and found that Sam, Peter and Alice were already there waiting impatiently for them. The sun had slid behind a cloud and the day seemed colder.
Alice was sitting on the boards beside the stone slab and the pile of cold ashes, looking up, worried. “Where’s Alfie?” she asked as soon as Nathan walked in. “The Constable didn’t get him, did he? They haven’t dragged him off to Newgate?”
Nathan plopped down beside her and shook his head. “He told me not to tell you.”
“Stupid,” Alice complained. “Of course I have to know. Tell me quick.”
Shrugging, Nathan said, “Someone came and took him away. Some
one you all seem to know who was very grand and very nasty as well. He was asking after you, but Alfie wouldn’t tell him.”
John ten-Toes was finishing his apple and the juice dripped down his chin. He said, mouth full, “That mean Baron Cambridge, it were. Big fat pig-man he is and I reckon someone should chop his head off and sling him in the Tower. But says e’s taking our Alfie ta gaol.”
Alice groaned. “That’s the worst – the absolutely worst possible news. That vile man won’t take Alfie to the Constable, nor to gaol. He’ll take him back to his own house and lock him up and whip him till he tells where I am.” She looked around, white faced. “If they beat Alfie and he tells about this place, the baron will send the law against all of us. So I’ll have to leave here and so will you too, and we’ll all have to go somewhere else, but first of all I have to rescue Alfie.”
There was a short shocked pause and then Nathan sat down, began scraping the mud from his feet, and said, “I’ll help. I’ll help with anything you like. But first of all,” he looked up directly at Alice, “you have to tell me what all this is about.”
Sam, a blanket half over his head, said, “And I reckon you has to tell us all about yerself too, ’cos you’s a right pokey puzzle. Them clothes. And living in Hammersmith and going to real school. And just turning up in the night all ready to eat our pottage and come thieving with us. So, who is you, then?”
Nathan couldn’t imagine how he could explain, so he said, “There’s no time for that. We have to rescue Alfie first.”
“No.” It was Alice who spoke. “We need explanations and then we can make a proper plan. Just running off into the city won’t help Alfie at all. I know the baron and he won’t bring in the sheriff yet. I have to think carefully. So –,” and she frowned at Nathan, “let’s start with you. Who are you and where do you come from? Are you secretly working for the baron?”
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