The Gypsy Crown Read online

  ‘Can’t we stop?’ Emilia panted. ‘My legs are aching.’

  ‘We’ll stop when we reach the top. We might be able to see something from there.’

  ‘Are you sure we’re going the right way?’

  ‘Nay, I’m not sure,’ Luka snapped. ‘You were the one who said we should cut across country. If we’d gone back to the road like I said, we would know where we were.’

  ‘Or we could be back in prison.’

  ‘At least we’d know where we were.’

  Emilia opened her mouth to snipe back, and then shut it again, too weary and sick at heart even to argue with Luka. Then they came up out of the cool woods into warm sunshine again.

  It was late afternoon and the heath was busy with the murmuring of bees and the distinctive chirp of the male yellowhammer. ‘Little bit of bread and no cheese,’ he sang, and Luka said rather sourly, ‘I’d be happy with just the little bit of bread.’

  ‘We should save the food for later,’ Emilia said. ‘If we’re hungry now, think how much hungrier we’ll be at dinner time.’

  ‘At least this pack would be lighter. It’s heavy as anything now.’

  So they shared a little of the bread and cheese Maggie had packed for them, lying on their stomachs in the long grass, Rollo panting beside them. Alida cropped the grass, and Sweetheart rolled, turning her hairy belly to the fading sun. Zizi went scampering off to explore. She was not tired, having been carried most of the way.

  From the top of the hill they had a broad view. Below them lay the thick forest, and then the countryside falling away in green rolling hills and valleys, under heavy clouds building up in the north. It all looked very peaceful. It was hard to believe that the horror and violence of the morning had really happened.

  ‘Look! Look there!’ Luka pointed.

  Emilia looked and saw the sun glinting off the bridles of three horses, riding slowly along the far hillside. It was hard to see the men, for they were dressed in buff coats and leather breeches, but the flash of the sun on Coldham’s steel gauntlet gave them away.

  Emilia’s heart sank. She wondered if the sun was catching on Sweetheart’s chain. The vivid colour of her skirt must be like a flag amidst the dull colours of the heath, too. She wished she had had time to change into her everyday skirt, the same dull brown as the earth. It would be easier to hide if it was raining, she thought. On such a bright, clear, sunny afternoon, it must be easy for the men to track them.

  ‘They’re not far behind,’ Luka said, scowling to hide his fear. ‘We’d better keep moving.’

  Staying low, they crept over the rise of the hill and were able to judge where they were by the landmarks rising out of the broad valley to the south. They could see the tiny village of Sutton about its village green, identifiable by the spire of its church, and by the crossroad at the Cock Inn. More villages were scattered here and there, and they could see the tall towers of Nonsuch Palace rising from its vast green parkland to the south. Epsom was only a mile or two past Nonsuch. If they kept on walking, they could reach it in less than two hours.

  ‘Come on,’ Luka said, hefting the pack onto his shoulder and clicking his fingers to call Zizi down from the tree. ‘Let’s try and make the woods before those hellhounds pick up our trail.’

  Emilia took the charm at her wrist between two fingers and rubbed it, drawing comfort from it. They had been lucky so far. Surely their luck would hold?

  Summer Storm

  Emilia and Luka came to the edge of the trees and stood staring at the road which ran along through flat fields and meadows. It was a broad road, lined by a ditch and low walls of stone. There was nothing to hide a boy, a girl, a mare, a dog, a monkey and a huge brown bear from sight. They could see a man working in one of the fields, and a woman out in the garden of her cottage, gathering herbs. As soon as Emilia and Luka stepped out from the shelter of the trees, they would be seen.

  A long, low grumble of thunder. A gust of cool air that lifted Emilia’s tangled curls and cooled the back of her neck. She glanced behind her.

  Thick grey clouds were pouring over the top of the hill. She had never seen clouds move so fast. Within moments they were spreading halfway across the sky. The woman in the garden looked up, shading her eyes, her apron flapping in the breeze. She called to her children, who were playing nearby, and hustled them back inside the cottage. The man shouldered his tools and hurried home, having no desire to be caught in the storm.

  ‘It’s raining,’ Emilia said wonderingly, putting out her hand to catch the first big, fat drops.

  ‘Aye. That blew up fast. Just what we need, to be slogging along in the rain.’

  ‘They won’t be able to see us, though,’ Emilia said. ‘If it rains hard enough.’

  There was a crack of lightning, then the heavens opened and the rain came bucketing down. In moments they were drenched to the skin. They could see nothing but the crooked wall before them and a brief stretch of road turning rapidly to mud.

  ‘I suppose that’s true,’ Luka said, his face brightening. ‘Come on then. Let’s hurry, before the rain blows over. Those soft constables will probably hide under a tree until it’s over. We could really get away.’

  Emilia laughed, and lifted her face to the streaming sky, sticking out her tongue so she could taste the rain. Her heart was suddenly lighter than it had been since her family had been captured. She glanced at Luka, and he grinned too. They were Rom and didn’t care a snap of their fingers for a summer storm. Laughing, they ran out into the road and danced. Sweetheart rose up on her hind paws and danced too, though Zizi huddled under Luka’s collar. She didn’t like the rain at all.

  ‘Come on!’ Luka said. ‘Let’s run!’

  For five or ten minutes they ran, laughing and splashing each other by jumping with all their force into the puddles. Soon they were muddy and bedraggled, and drenched to the skin. Then they began to get cold and hungry and tired. The rain was not so much fun after that. They took it in turns to ride on Alida’s back, the other trudging along through the mud. Sweetheart lumbered behind, her wet fur hanging in her eyes. Every now and again she lifted her snout and uttered one of her heartfelt moans, perfectly expressing the children’s feelings. They too would have liked to have stretched out by a fire with a bowl of hot soup and a foaming mug of weak ale. But they had no soup, and no ale, and no fire, and nowhere safe to stop.

  ‘Maybe we could stop and rest at the Cock Inn,’ Luka said.

  ‘I have money,’ Emilia said, touching her purse which hung down inside her skirt. It was heavy with coins.

  ‘Darling girl! Let’s do that then. I can’t walk any further.’

  The idea of stopping for a drink and perhaps a bite to eat at the inn gave them fresh energy and their step quickened. They could see the village of Sutton clearly now. It lay just ahead, a scatter of houses about the green. It was dusk and smoke was rising from the inn, smelling of home.

  A tall hedge rose up on one side, cutting out the light. They passed a set of iron gates, closed shut with a rusty chain, that led onto a weedy drive lined with rhododendrons that had grown so tall they gave the impression of a dark tunnel curving away. Above the hedge they could see the roof and chimneys of an old manor house. Through a gap in the hedge Emilia caught a brief glimpse of the front of the house. It was shaggy with ivy, and every curtain was drawn so that the house looked blind. Then the hedge closed over again and they could see nothing but trees.

  Suddenly they heard the sound of wheels coming fast down the highway. Luka and Emilia looked behind them in panic. A large black carriage drawn by four horses was just cresting the hill and beginning to rattle towards them.

  ‘Here! Quick!’ Luka cried, and ran back towards the gap in the hedge, dragging on Sweetheart’s chain so she followed along behind him. Luka was able to slip through the gap easily enough, and Sweetheart pushed her way through, widening the gap so that Emilia was able to lead Alida through in her wake, Rollo close behind. The branches sprang back to hide them,
and they crouched there in the gloom under the dripping trees, hardly daring to breathe.

  The carriage drew up, the horses whinnying and stamping, restless at the faint scent of bear that must linger in the laneway.

  ‘What is it? Why have we stopped?’

  Luka and Emilia shrank back at the sound of the parson’s voice.

  ‘I thought I saw something, sir,’ the coachman said. ‘Something moving in the shadows under the hedge, like it was trying to hide. You told me to keep a good lookout, sir, I thought you might like me to get down and have a look.’

  ‘Very well, but be quick, I am on God’s business and he shall not suffer to be kept waiting,’ the parson said, leaning out the window. It sounded as though he was looming right over them. Luka had his hand on Sweetheart’s muzzle to keep her quiet, and she stood obediently still, looking puzzled.

  They heard the coachman jump down to the ground. ‘Easy, boys, easy,’ he said to the horses. ‘Settle down. They’re right spooked, sir. Something’s got them twitchy.’

  His boots crunched on the dirt of the road as he walked along the hedgerow, sweeping through the wet branches with his whip. They heard him rattle the gates, and prowl about a bit more, and then he came back.

  ‘Gates locked up tight, sir. No sign of anyone about.’

  ‘Nay, of course not. No one’s lived here since Henry Tudor cut off Sir Nicholas’s head. It’s been empty for years.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why the horses are so twitchety. Ghosts about.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ the pastor said coldly. ‘Drive on! Stop at the inn ahead and see if anyone has seen any sign of those two Egyptian children. They should be easy enough to remember, with their menagerie of wild beasts. A dog, a horse, a bear and a monkey! Godless folly and nonsense!’

  The coachman climbed back up onto his box and snapped out his whip. The horses took off at once, anxious to be away from that strange predatory smell drifting from the undergrowth. On the other side of the hedge, Sweetheart yawned and scratched her ear, and nudged Luka’s leg with her nose as if asking him for her ale.

  ‘Lucky we didn’t go to the inn,’ Emilia said, and rubbed the old coin between her fingers.

  Luka looked rather pale. ‘Aye!’

  ‘I’m so tired, I don’t want to walk any more.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  They lay on the wet ground with the black leaves dripping water all over them, their legs aching, their stomachs hollow, and felt close to weeping.

  ‘I can’t believe they’re still looking for us,’ Luka said gruffly. ‘Why does that mean old Fishface hate us so much? Why is he hunting us down?’

  ‘Maybe it’s because I made him sit down in some cow muck,’ Emilia said. ‘Or maybe he just hates the Rom. He looks the sort of man who hates just about everyone.’

  ‘How could anyone hate Mimi?’ Luka bit his lip as he heard his voice tremble.

  ‘Or Noah?’ Emilia said, and put up one hand to rub away the tears trickling down her cold, numb face.

  Sweetheart moaned and put her paw over her eyes.

  Emilia and Luka laughed, then heaved a big sigh and sat up. It was almost dark, and all they could hear was the drip, drip, drip of the rain through the trees.

  ‘We’re still miles away from Epsom,’ Emilia said.

  ‘Let’s go and have a look at this house then,’ Luka said. ‘Maybe there’s somewhere we can doss down for a while. It’ll be good to cook our fish. I’m starving!’

  ‘Me too,’ Emilia said miserably.

  ‘Well, come on then.’

  Emilia hung back. ‘But what if there’s ghosts?’

  ‘It was Sweetheart the horses were jibbing at, not ghosts,’ Luka scoffed.

  ‘Aye, but …’

  ‘Come on. It’s almost dark. We won’t be able to see a thing if we don’t go now.’

  ‘Oh, very well,’ Emilia said, and got up, shaking all the leaves and twigs off her wet skirts, which were now so muddy they were almost as brown as her everyday skirt. They pushed their way through the undergrowth and out onto the lawn in front of the house. It had stopped raining, and an eerie light hung over the silent house and garden as the setting sun shone out from under the clouds. Everything was very quiet.

  Alida dropped her head and began tearing at the long grass. Sweetheart lay down on the flagstones with a sigh and rested her head on her paws. She did not understand where her master was, or why no one had set up camp and given her any supper. It was all very tiring and bewildering.

  With Zizi scampering ahead of them, and Rollo at their heels, Emilia and Luka walked round the house, looking up at the shrouded windows and occasionally trying the handles of any door they passed. All was locked, though, and they had no desire to smash a window unless they had to. At the back of the house was a walled garden, now thick with weeds, which must once have been the kitchen garden. It was too dark to see if anything edible grew among the weeds, but they did see a door standing ajar, and went in to a musty-smelling scullery with a pump where they were able to wash their hands and faces and quench their thirst.

  Baba had hung a small lantern on the side of their pack, and Luka managed to light this and set it on the sill. In doing so, he knocked over an old saucer, which fell to the ground and broke. Among the shards of china they saw a key. They glanced at each other in excitement, then Luka snatched up the key and tried it in the kitchen door. It was stiff and rusty, but he exerted all his strength and managed to turn it in the lock. The door croaked open.

  Keeping the lantern shuttered so only a thin ray of light struck out, the two children tiptoed into the house. The kitchen was dark and cavernous, with pots and pans and ladles still hanging over the long scarred table, and dried bunches of herbs spun all round with cobwebs. More cobwebs hung from the ceiling, furred with dust, and they saw spiders scuttling away from their light. Luka shuddered. He hated spiders.

  Beyond the kitchen was a corridor, furnished with a long narrow table crowded with jugs and bottles set on trays. Then they came into the front hall. Portraits of long-dead people hung on the walls. It made Emilia shiver, seeing those eyes staring down at her from the walls. She pressed close to Luka, who was pretending to be brave, striding out and laughing at the strange things stuck all over the walls. There were antlers and shields with swords crossed above them, and a huge stuffed fish in a glass case, and a grandfather clock with suns and moons painted on its face.

  Zizi jumped down from Luka’s shoulder and scampered about, leaving little monkey tracks in the thick dust on the floor. Glancing back, Emilia saw the trail of their footprints behind them. Uneasily, she scuffled her bare foot back and forth, wiping her last few steps out, then lifted the sole of her foot. It was grey.

  Zizi had pushed open a door to one side and scampered inside, and the two children followed her, Luka casting his lantern from side to side so they could see. The ray of light fell upon a huge pale shape floating in the gloom. Emilia screamed. Luka fell back a step, and they pressed together, shivering, too frightened to move. Then Zizi leapt on top of the dreadful white lump and gibbered in terror as it suddenly slithered away under her paws. She slid with it, shrieking, and landed with a bang on the floor. Immediately she bounded to the safety of Luka’s shoulder, even as he went forward a step, opening the shutter of the lantern so he could see more clearly.

  ‘Look, it’s just a couch,’ he said, ‘covered in some kind of cloth.’

  Emilia pressed her hand to her hammering heart. ‘I thought it was a ghost for sure.’

  ‘Me too,’ Luka admitted. He moved around the room, pulling more dustsheets off the furniture. Clouds of dust rose into the air, making Emilia cough and Zizi sneeze.

  ‘Stop it!’ she cried. ‘I can’t breathe.’

  ‘I just wanted to see what was underneath,’ Luka said. ‘Look, they’re not too dusty under those sheets. We could sit on them.’

  He had uncovered several tall wooden chairs with hard backs and spiralling posts, and a long settle made of oak
by the fire, as well as two big chairs upholstered in a stiff floral fabric. With a tired sigh, Emilia sat in one of the chairs, pulling her legs up under her damp, muddy skirts and wrapping the material about her icy feet. She looked about her, trying not to shiver, as Luka kept on banging about. Then he cried out with joy as he found some firewood in a chest against one wall. Within minutes he had a fire kindled in the hearth.

  ‘I’ll go and see if I can find a pan or something in that kitchen, to cook the fish in, and then I’ll bring Alida and Sweetheart in,’ he said. ‘Will you be all right here?’

  Emilia nodded, even though she would have much preferred not to be left alone. She was too tired to move, though, and the warmth of the dancing flames was comforting. She rested her head on her arm, curling her legs up beneath her, and wondered how Beatrice and Noah were. Tears rose in her eyes and she sniffed them back, determined not to cry anymore.

  Bolts, Bars and Doors

  Beatrice sat on the hard floor, stroking back Mimi’s long dark curls. The little girl had fallen asleep with her head in Beatrice’s lap and although she was stiff and uncomfortable, she dared not move in case she woke her cousin.

  Light struck in through the bars from the corridor, illuminating the dark humps of the sleeping women. Silvia lay with her arm about Lena, while Maggie sat with her stooped back set against the wall, her eyes glittering in the shadows. Beatrice was too cold and afraid to sleep, but she suspected Maggie was too angry. Her grandmother did not like the gorgios. She did not like being locked up in prison, their horses and caravans impounded and their lives threatened. She did not like it all.

  It had been an awful moment when the constables had thrown Maggie in through the barred door. Her face had been bruised, with one eye swelling shut, and she had lost several more of her few remaining teeth. Beatrice’s heart had sunk right down to the very pit of her stomach. She could only be glad that Emilia and Luka had escaped. Maggie said they had gone for help. Beatrice could not think what two young gypsy children could do to help, but it was a comfort to know that they, at least, were free. She could only wish that Noah had been able to escape too.