The Gypsy Crown (10 page)

C
oldham began to drag the children away, but the colonel saw the longing glance they cast at the food and raised a pudgy hand, saying wheezily, ‘Hold your horses, man, no need to lock 'em up just yet. Scrawny a pair of brats as I've ever laid eyes on. Hungry?'

‘Aye, sir,' Luka said, and Emilia nodded emphatically.

‘May as well fill your bellies then, plenty of food, hey? Plenty of food here.' He wheezed with laughter again. ‘Pull up a pew, brats. What's your poison?'

‘It all looks good, sir,' Luka said, and did not hesitate in grabbing whatever was closest and cramming it into his mouth. He was so hungry he felt quite ill. Emilia did the same. The colonel watched them, torn between disgust and amusement at their appalling manners. The children were too hungry to care. Any moment now the pastor could come back and order them thrown into a dungeon with nothing but dry bread and maggoty gruel to eat.

Today we feast,
Emilia thought.
Tomorrow we starve …

‘So food's good, hey? Hey?'

They nodded but did not pause to reply.

‘Aye, my cook is the best in three counties,' the colonel said, folding his hands across his belly. He cast a look of dislike at Coldham and said, ‘Hadn't you best be about your master's business, man? Pastor Spurgeon strikes me as one who doesn't like to be kept waiting. What? Oh, no need to worry about the tinker brats. There's plenty of men here to keep them in hand.' He waved at his footmen, standing stolidly against the wall in their grand livery. ‘I'll have them brought out to you when they've had a bite to eat.'

‘Yes, sir,' Coldham said unwillingly, and went out of the room.

The colonel at once sat up and leant forward. ‘So, a fortune-teller, hey?' He waved his pudgy hand at the crystal ball. ‘Not good enough a fortune-teller to predict your own misfortunes, hey? Hey?'

Emilia was stung to the quick. ‘We have not had time to be stopping and laying out the cards, or looking in the ball,' she said. ‘We've been on the run, chased by that horrible man, since yesterday morning! And all because he saw my sister singing in the marketplace.'

The colonel looked solemn. ‘Oh, well, singing, you know. And fiddling too, he told me. Devil's work.'

Emilia took a deep breath to retort, but Luka shook his head very slightly, warning her, and she shut her mouth firmly. Instead she reached out hands that trembled and took hold of the crystal ball, warming it between her palms. It was her grandmother's, and she was glad she had not smashed it, even if it did mean Pastor Spurgeon had cause to condemn them.

‘Well, well, fortune's a funny thing, ain't it?' the colonel said. ‘I mean, who could have guessed that me, a mere brewer's apprentice, would end up here, in Queen Bess's own palace, with an army of servants to pick up after me, and as much roast beef as I like? If a fortune-teller had told me that as a boy I would have laughed in her face, aye, I would. Laughed fit to burst myself, I would. Yet here I am, jolly as you please …'

Emilia had been staring down into the crystal ball as he spoke and had begun to feel strangely light-headed and dizzy. It was as though the cloudy white ball had grown until it filled all her world, while the room shrank away and became misty. Her head felt heavy and her neck stiff. She found she could not move. She felt her mouth open and heard words come out, but even though it was her voice that spoke, she did not know where the words came from.

‘Yet those that rise can fall, and the wheel of fortune raise up those who were ground into dust. So know that you are bound to the wheel of fortune too, and it shall see you die before the year is out, and in time they shall order your rotting body to be dug up and hung on the gallows at Tyburn, and you shall suffer a second death, a traitor's death, for the deeds you have done, and it is as a traitor and a killer of kings that you shall be remembered, when nothing of this palace remains but stones and weeds …'

As Emilia spoke she raised her eyes from the crystal ball and fixed them on the colonel's face, and she saw it turn purple. He half rose from his chair, gasping and clutching at his collar, his eyes bulging. Then he fell, crashing to the floor. His footmen all scrambled to his side, loosening his collar, dashing water in his face and endeavouring to lift up his massive weight.

Luka grabbed the bag, swept all their belongings back into it, along with as much of the ham and roast pheasant and smoked herrings he could reach, then he grasped Emilia's arm and dragged her to her feet.

‘Not bad,' he said. ‘Risky, but it seems to have worked. Come on! Let's get out of here.'

He swung open one of the windows and pushed Emilia out of it, holding onto her wrists and lowering her down to the lawn below. She went without a word, her gaze still fixed on the gasping, purple face of the colonel. She felt utterly bewildered, as if she had been woken in the middle of a dream. Then Luka landed lightly beside her and began to run, dragging her along with him.

‘Old Pride-Before-A-Fall had an absolute apoplexy,' he chuckled. ‘Did you see his face? I wonder you dared, spouting such stuff at him, Emilia. Come on! Where do you reckon the stables are?'

Behind them a footman was leaning out the window and shouting, shaking a fist at them, but no one attempted to climb out after them, possibly because their trousers were so tight.

‘They'll be after us,' Luka said. ‘Let's look smartly! I wonder where Zizi is?' He lifted two fingers to his mouth, and gave a high, shrill whistle. A few minutes later he whistled again.

They came to the corner of the building and looked around it carefully. Before them lay the stable wing, built around a central courtyard where Coldham was busy giving orders to the grooms harnessing the four black horses to the pastor's black coach. Beyond was a meadow with apple and pear trees, and there Sweetheart was dozing in the sun, occasionally twitching an ear at the flies.

All was peaceful and quiet. No news of the children's escape had yet reached the stables.

‘Do you reckon you can sneak into the stable and get Alida out?' Luka said. ‘Rollo will be in there too. I'll get Sweetheart, no one's minding her.'

‘But what will we do then?' Emilia asked. ‘We still have to get out of the grounds.'

Luka was only half listening, staring back at the palace. His eyes lit up as he saw Zizi come scampering down one of the towers, using the carved stonework like a ladder. She had evidently heard his whistle.

‘Darling girl!' Luka cried, and she leapt into his arms and cuddled her tiny arms about his neck. ‘Where have you been?' he scolded. ‘I was that worried.'

She chittered back at him, as if giving him a full explanation, and he listened gravely and then said, ‘Oh well, no harm done. I hope you made a right fine mess, monkey girl.'

Emilia rolled her eyes at this touching reunion.

‘Come on, darling girl, let's go and get Sweetheart,' Luka said to the monkey.

‘But what then?' Emilia asked again. ‘How will we get out of here?'

Luka considered. ‘Do you think you could steal that coach?'

‘Steal the parson's own coach?' Emilia cried, then clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles. ‘Sure, and why not?'

‘The trick will be getting out the gates, but hopefully, if we gallop fast enough, they'll open them for us before they see it's not the parson.'

‘With a bit of luck, we'll get through,' Emilia said, rubbing the golden coin at her wrist.

‘Right, let's do it,' Luka said.

Together they sneaked quietly round to the back of the stable, then Emilia tiptoed inside while Luka ran and got Sweetheart, Zizi clinging to his shoulder. It was dark and quiet inside the vast stable, with horses resting inside their stalls. All the grooms were out in the courtyard, talking with Coldham. The four horses were all in their harness, and the coachman was at the leader's head, holding his bridle as he waited for the parson to appear.

Alida was inside a stall, looking over the gate expectantly, her ears pricked forward. Rollo lay in the straw beside her, licking his wounds. At the sound of Emilia's footsteps, he got up, wagging his tail.

Emilia quietly opened the gate to the stall, propping it open with a brick. ‘Stay,' she whispered to the two animals, holding up one finger imperiously. ‘Stay till I whistle.'

Rollo's tail sank, but he sat down obediently, his brown eyes fixed on her face. Alida pawed the ground, shook her mane and hurrumphed.

Emilia ran quietly down the stable and crept round to the side of the coach, pressed between it and the wall. The coachman would have seen her if he had turned his head, but no one was looking back at the stable. Nimbly she clambered up onto the roof of the coach, then lay there, waiting for the right moment.

She did not lie there very long. A footman came running out of the palace and excitedly told them about the colonel's fit and the gypsy children's escape. Everyone crowded around him, demanding more details. As the footman told his story with great vigour, Emilia lowered herself into the driver's seat and took the driver's whip out of its stand.

With a great
crack!
she brought the whip down about the horses' ears. They reared and whinnied, and took off, knocking over the coachman and scattering the grooms and other servants. At a great pace the coach-horses galloped off down the drive, and Emilia whistled loudly. At once Alida came cantering out of the stable and raced after them, her white tail flying. Rollo bounded along beside her, barking with joy.

The drive led past the orchard. At its furthermost point, Emilia – who was well used to driving her grandmother's caravan but was finding the four horses infinitely more challenging – managed to bring them to a snorting, prancing halt. Immediately Luka came running out from behind a tree with Sweetheart lumbering along behind him. The horses went mad, but Emilia managed to hold them long enough for the bear to clamber up into the coach, Luka pushing her ample behind in through the narrow door. Then he swung himself up too, Zizi on his shoulder, and dragged Rollo in beside him, slamming the coach door shut. At once, Emilia gave the horses their heads.

At the sound of the galloping hooves, the gatekeeper came running out and opened the gates wide. Then he bowed and doffed his hat. It was not until he had straightened up that he realised that the coach was being driven by a tangle-haired gypsy girl with a grubby face and a very bedraggled pink skirt. By that time it was too late. The coach was veering out the gates and onto the road, and rattling away at high speed, the mare cantering along behind it.

I
t was not long before they heard hooves drumming along behind them.

Luka, hanging out the coach window, saw Coldham racing along the road behind them, bent low over the outstretched neck of a big bay.

‘Criminy, does he never give up?' Luka cried, and shouted to Emilia to whip up the horses.

Emilia cracked her whip, thinking fast. They could not outrun Coldham, not dragging a heavy coach behind them. They would have to trick him. She drew a deep breath, and turned left at the next crossroads, taking the road away from the Downs. As soon as the road fell down into a dip behind some trees, she drew the horses up and let Luka, Zizi, Rollo and Sweetheart out. The horses, spooked by the overpowering smell of bear, needed little encouragement to break into a headlong gallop again. She whistled to Alida, who followed swiftly behind.

She tied the horses' reins to the coach-rail, then stood up on the driver's seat, arms held out to hold her balance as the coach swayed and bounced. She whistled to Alida again and the mare galloped alongside. Emilia judged the distance from the driver's seat to the mare's back, took a deep breath, then leapt across, grasping Alida's mane to stop herself from falling straight off. The coach rattled on, drawn by its four galloping horses. Emilia turned her mare's head around and set her at the hedge, soaring over it and into the field beyond. In an instant Emilia was off Alida's back and urging the mare to her knees. Hearts pounding, they hid behind the hedge, straining their ears for any noise.

Soon they heard the thunder of galloping hooves. They crouched lower. Then Coldham raced past, pursuing the bolting coach. As soon as he had disappeared over another hill, Emilia was back on Alida's back and going as quietly as possible back to the crossroads where Luka and Zizi and Sweetheart were waiting, hidden in the bushes.

‘Did he fall for it?' Luka whispered.

‘I hope so,' Emilia whispered back.

‘With a bit of luck they'll gallop halfway across the country and Coldham will have no idea where we got off,' Luka said, grinning.

‘We've been mighty lucky so far,' Emilia said, and rubbed the gold crown hanging at her wrist.

‘Luckier than we deserve,' Luka said, cuddling Zizi close.

Light, luck and magic …

Emilia gave a little superstitious shudder, thinking what strange turns their fortunes had taken these past few days.

‘Well, let's hope our luck holds out and we meet up with those Hearnes. All Dad knew was that they were on the Downs somewhere, racing their horses. Let's head that way and see if we can find any news of them. They shouldn't be too hard to find, surely?'

‘Depends if they want to be found,' Emilia said, and Luka gave a wry shrug.

They were trudging down the dusty road towards Epsom, leading a weary mare and a bad-tempered, bewildered bear, when Rollo turned his head and growled, low in his throat. Then they felt a faint thrum under their bare feet and, a few seconds later, heard horses' hooves, coming fast down the road behind them.

Without a word or a glance, both scrambled up over the low wall, dragging Sweetheart with all their strength. She moaned and groaned, and dragged against the chain, and it was only when Emilia dug her hand in the pack and pulled out a handful of smoked herrings that she finally, slowly and laboriously, scrambled over the wall and into the ditch.

Alida had already leapt over, lightly and easily, and Emilia now hurriedly ran towards a small copse of trees, whistling to the mare to follow. Rollo bounded after, his tail wagging, his nose sniffing at the odour of smoked herring. Sweetheart ambled after, grumbling loudly.

‘Sweetheart, you are a pain,' Luka hissed. ‘Why did I ever say I'd look after you? Come on!'

They flung themselves into the heart of the little wood, and onto the ground, dragging at Sweetheart's chain until she flopped onto the ground beside them, snuffling with pleasure as Emilia gave her the smoked herrings. The big brown bear growled at Rollo when he sniffed at the fish, and Emilia gave the dog the rest, shushing him as best she could.

They listened.

A horse was coming past at a steady trot, then it slowed and stopped right next to their hiding-place. They heard boots hit the ground, then the jangle of a bit as reins were brought over the horse's head. They pressed lower to the ground, wishing Sweetheart would munch more quietly. Emilia gripped her lucky coin between her fingers.

The boots walked quietly towards them. They paused. Luka and Emilia tried not to breathe. They heard a quick scuffle as the boots clambered over the wall, and then the crunch of leaves coming closer and closer towards them.

Luka put his hand into the pack and drew out the knife. He looked sick and white.

Closer and closer the boots came. Soon it seemed as if they were only a step or two away. Luka drew in a deep sigh of breath, then slowly rose to a crouching position. Emilia clenched her hands together, and silently shook her head. She could not bear the thought that Luka would actually try and stab someone, no matter how mean and nasty he was. Luka scowled at her and lifted his shoulders in a gesture that clearly said, ‘what else can I do?'

The boots paused. They heard breathing. Everything was deathly quiet.

Then Sweetheart mumbled with pleasure as she devoured the last morsel of smoked herring.

They heard a quick intake of breath, then the boots strode towards them. Hands parted the bushes.

Luka launched himself forward, the knife shaking in his hand. He cannoned into a broad chest, head low, and heard the
ooof!
of breath collapsing. Luka followed up with a hard kick, then remembered his knife and brought it swinging up.

Not fast enough. His wrist was caught by a big hard hand and held immobile. Luka was forced back down to his knees. Trembling but defiant, he struggled to free himself but the grip on his wrist was like steel. He looked up, his gaze swimming with tears of pain and defeat, and saw a familiar lean, hard, swarthy face.

Felipe Hearne.

‘What are you doing, my weans?' Felipe asked in a voice of exasperation. ‘What do you mean by pulling a knife on me?'

‘We thought … we thought you were …' Luka could barely speak.

‘You thought what?'

‘We thought you were the pig man!' Emilia's voice came out in a squeak.

Not surprisingly, Felipe was puzzled. He let Luka go. Luka sat back on his heels and massaged his wrist, the knife falling to the ground.

‘He's after us …'

‘He wants to hang us …'

‘He's been chasing us for miles.'

‘But why? Who is this pig man?' Felipe asked.

Emila turned her face to the east. ‘He's coming,' she said dolefully.

‘You must help us,' Luka pleaded. ‘Please! If he finds us, he'll drag us back to gaol, like everyone else.'

‘We're the only ones to have escaped,' Emilia said. ‘If we cannot save them, they'll hang.'

They heard the rat-tat-a-tat of horses' hooves quickly approaching. Luka and Emilia looked at each other, then at Felipe, beseechingly.

‘Please. You must help us.' Emilia clasped her hands together and let her voice shake and tears trickle down her cheeks. It did not take any great effort.

‘But how?'

‘Don't let him know we're here. Draw him away,' Luka said, low and urgent.

‘All right.' Felipe still sounded bewildered, but he stood up and turned back towards the road.

‘Where can we find you later?' Emilia begged. ‘Please. We need help.'

‘We're up on the Downs. Not far from here. I'll leave you a sign at the turnoff. Come and find us once it's dark. Now lie quietly, I'll do what I can.'

Faint with relief, Luka and Emilia lay back down on the ground. Zizi cuddled up to her master, patting his face with her paws, grateful he was not running any more and bouncing her around uncomfortably. Rollo put his head on his paws, glad for a chance to rest, while Sweetheart licked the wound in her flank. All was quiet.

Closer and closer came the drumming of hooves. Then there was a loud neigh, as the horse was abruptly reined in.

‘You there!' came Coldham's harsh voice. The children shrank lower.

‘Aye, sir?' Felipe answered.

‘What do you do there?'

‘Answering an urgent call of nature, sir.'

‘I'm searching for some fugitives from justice,' Coldham said. ‘A girl and a boy, filthy thieving ragamuffins, both of them. They'd be hard to miss. They've got a flea-bitten monkey creature, a mongrel dog, a horse, and some kind of dancing bear.'

‘They do sound hard to miss,' Felipe said slowly. They heard the jingle of his horse's harness as he unlooped it from the wall. ‘So what have these desperate outlaws done, to warrant such dogged pursuit?'

‘They're devil-worshippers,' Coldham said shortly. ‘Should burn alive for their sins. They should be grateful if they merely hang.'

‘But did you not say they were children?' Felipe said.

‘Devil takes many forms,' Coldham replied.

Felipe said, slowly and thoughtfully, ‘Well, I cannot say I've seen any devils in child form roaming the countryside, but let me ride with you and you can tell me more. I know this countryside well. Maybe I can help you?'

‘They're tricky, slippery devils,' Coldham said, as Felipe mounted up again.

‘What makes you think they've come this way? If they're so clever, don't you think they'd head for some kind of hideout? There's caves dug out of the chalk, you know, to the east of here.'

‘Caves?' Coldham repeated.

‘Aye, caves. Deep ones. I can point you the way if you like.'

‘Why?' Coldham demanded in a tone of deep suspicion.

Felipe laughed. ‘Oh, for a small fee, of course, my dear fellow.'

‘How small?'

‘Well, it does seem important to you, to find these devils of yours …' Their voices faded as the two men rode away from the children's hiding place. Emilia and Luka hardly dared breathe till there was no sound of their horses' hooves clip-clopping at all.

Then they rolled over and stared at each other, eyes shining.

‘What luck!' Luka crowed.

‘That's too lucky to be luck,' Emilia argued. ‘That's magic!'

‘Magic!' Luka snorted. ‘You and your magic! No, that was luck, pure and simple. We've found the Hearnes and got Coldham off our trail. All will be well now. All we need do now is lie low for a few hours and then go find their camp.'

Emilia touched the golden crown hanging from her wrist.

…
and the charm of the silver horse,
she thought.

The Facts behind the Fiction

Most of the places that Luka and Emilia go to on their adventures are real places that you can go to also, if you wish. Similarly, many of the people they encounter are real people who once lived and breathed and acted out their destinies on the pages of history.

Maggie Finch, the Queen of the Gypsies, was a famous fortune-teller who lived in Norwood, Surrey, which was then partly owned by the Whitehorse family. We know about her because Samuel Pepys wrote about her in his diary, and his wife travelled to see her and have her fortune told. I do not know the names of her children and grandchildren – Emilia and Luka are entirely imaginary, as is the chain of charms.

There were many Romanichal, as the English gypsies are known, in the seventeenth century. They arrived in England in the early 1500s and were at first tolerated, if not exactly welcomed. Henry the Eighth passed an anti-gypsy act in 1530, twenty-five years after their arrival. The act's intention was to rid the country of all gypsies by forcing them to leave, or suffer execution as felons.

England was not alone in passing such laws. In seventeenth-century Denmark ‘gypsy hunts' were organised by the king. One hunter listed, among the animals he'd shot that year, ‘a gypsy woman and a suckling child'. Other punishments throughout Europe included flogging, torture, branding, mutilation, hanging and shooting. Under Oliver Cromwell's rule, gypsies suffered greatly. The last known execution of gypsies in England happened during his reign, in Suffolk. Many others were shipped to America to work as slaves on the southern plantations.

In the Romani language, the word ‘Rom' means a gypsy person. Most gypsies in the world use this word to refer to themselves. In seventeenth century England, however, the general term for one of the Rom was ‘gypsy', as they were initially believed to have come from Egypt. They were also called ‘tinkers' or ‘travellers'.

The Rom are a race of nomads. The gypsies of seventeenth-century England travelled about the countryside, carrying their belongings in handcarts and canvas-covered wagons, and pitching tents wherever they stopped. A few had wooden caravans, though these did not become widespread until the nineteenth century. For the Rom, travelling is not merely for fun, but a way of life. Rom who settled down in one place were scorned, and thought to have joined the
gorgios
, which is the Romani term for non-gypsies. They believed this wanderlust was born into them, part of their blood.