Chapter Twelve


Unfortunately, I did not get a chance to try the tea, for as I lifted the delicate porcelain cup expectantly to my lips, a footman rushed up to the pagoda and, bowing apologetically to the Royal family informed them that a Master Timothy Hobbs requested my attention on some urgent business.
 With the King,s permission, I followed the very tall Footman back along the path I had come, still with the impression of the last smile Topaz had given me, completely unprepared for what was to come. Eventually, with a long, slow gait by the footman and a fast walk from me, we reached the outer entrance doors to the king’s palace wing, where Tim waited anxiously, a pained expression on his face. He was so pre-occupied with his message that he didn’t seem to notice my uniform. Something obviously was very wrong.
 ‘What is it Tim, it must be very important for you to come to the palace?’
He lowered his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Jeffery, so sorry. Your mother has died.’
At first my mind went blank. I just could not comprehend what he was saying. ‘Don’t be silly,’ I said stupidly.
 ‘Yes, late this morning.’ My own reaction in my head surprised me. Why, I thought, that must have been when I was at the fitting for this excellent uniform. Why didn’t Tim notice it? Then the force of despair suddenly hit me with a blow that tore me apart. I groaned like a bear in pain, and stumbled forward and would have fallen to my knees had Tim not caught hold of me.
The rest was hazy, as I was at once drowning and confused by sorrow. Tim helped me through a back route out of the palace. He had our horses ready and we rode home to Clubland slowly and in a benighted silence. He kept trying to tell me what had happened to her, but I just felt so guilty for abandoning her that I shut him out. I remember Tim was surprised that the guards on the border let us through, as if in fear of us. I didn’t really notice. Eventually, not long after leaving the border, Tim took me into a tavern, hoping that he could revive and stir me back into my old self. But it was a mistake. Naturally I got drunk as a Ten, especially when he told me that my mother had thrown herself down our well in search of my father.
 He half carried me to Betty, until I collapsed in a drunken stupor. Fortunately, Betty was trained on the farm to pick up a farmer drunk with lunchtime cider; she lifted me with her big yellow teeth on to the back of Tim’s horse, and somehow we got back to Clubton, slanting to the north and south in our saddles.
It wasn’t very appropriate to ride thus drunk, so shortly after my mother’s demise, along the Clubton High Street, at the time of day when most of the town people were about to witness us so inebriated. Past the blacksmith’s on the edge of town,
past the Two barrel-maker Mr Cooper and his family, who began to bow their heads in respect for the loss of my mother, until they saw the state of us and sneered with disapproval, past the town store run by Benson Three and his family, who equally attempted to bow respectfully for my loss, then show open disgust, past the gossiping Henshaw sisters, all four of them, and Fours too. Until, at last we were pushing past a protesting Mrs Hobbs, in his hallway. Tim threw me on his bed and joined me.
 Fully dressed, we snored away for six hours, until I awoke with a dry mouth, remembering that I had to see Father Ten with some urgent information from the Rabbi. I woke up Tim, and after drinking a gallon of water from the well, walked to Father Ten’s house.
The Churchwarden, Tom Soams, opened the door, a short stocky man, with a hook for his right hand. He had red leathery skin, more typical of an old sailor. But in reality, he had been an old trooper, in Father Ten’s Cavalry in the Holy Baron Wars. At the battle of Blackwood, his right hand had been severed at the wrist by a sabre. It hung painfully in the way, so he cut his own hand off, dismounted, and put the gushing wound in one of the many fires of battle, to seal it.
 His deep-set brown eyes studied us for a moment, especially my new uniform. He smiled sympathetically and invited us in. ‘My commiserations for your terrible loss, Captain,’ he said sincerely and showed us in to the Bishop’s study that was used regularly for the Bishop’s tutoring. Father Ten was at his desk and turned when we entered. He looked drawn, grim. He stood and walked over to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. ‘I am so sorry, Jeffery.’
 I felt my stomach begin to heave and my eyes smart. ‘I know you’re all being kind, but if you don’t want me to blub, would you not mention her again unless absolutely necessary.’ They all nodded but there was still a grim silence. I wondered if he had heard the news already.
 He motioned us to sit on the leather chairs opposite.  ‘I know, yes, (he said sombrely), I have heard the news.’
 ‘From the Diamond Rabbi?’ I asked. He looked around the room.
 ‘I trust you all completely, but I gave my word not to reveal the source.’ We all nodded and mumbled our understanding. He sat on the edge of his desk. ‘There are two crucial wild cards. When and where will they attack.’ We all looked blankly at each other. Then Tim raised his hand.
 ‘Who do you think is culpable for all this my Lord?
 Father Ten, glanced indulgently at him. ‘I mean it is evident, (Tim continued) without a doubt, that the Black Prince and his henchmen gallop about raping, pillaging and kidnapping, but the brains?’
 Father Ten fiddled with some beads around his neck. ‘Good question, Tim. Well, it’s probably the Queen of Spades, but there may be someone else.’
 I looked up from my knife, which I had been cleaning. ‘Like who, my Lord?’
 Father Ten sighed wearily. ‘Well, I have no evidence, but a gut feeling that it might be the Earl of Gold, who was exiled after the Holy Baron Wars. Did the Rabbi mention him, Jeffery?’ (I shook my head.) Well, tell us of your conversation with him today.’
So I told him of the mission the Rabbi had given me; to meet with Father Ten as we were doing, and to find supporters, like Sir Mosswood, to begin a rebellion, then to find a Colonel Bolt in Heartland.
 Father Ten interrupted, to tell me the colonel was not a man of God but a man of probity and a reliable officer, and I went on about the fears of Rabbi Gideon. That those involved in the plot were many, including the phoney Pope, the Queen of Spades and her son Victor, the Ace Head of entertainment in Heartland, the Chief Rabbi Arvad, our Archbishop Melbourn, and that Melbourn was in the pocket of the Spade Queen Theophila, our Prince John and most of our generals. About my mission, in three days to go to the capitol Arcadia in Heartland and the Cat Cathedral with Colonel Bolt and unlock some mysterious doors.
Father Ten interrupted to advise me that I had to attend my mother’s funeral in three days. I responded rather piously that I had to attend to my duty, and continued. I left out the bit about the Rabbi’s views on Father Ten being over-aggressive and reckless against evil and that he forbade me to go to Spadeland at any cost. Something I would regret for the rest of my life. All the information I recited he seemed to know of.
 After a long silence Father Ten was the first to speak.  ‘The most worrying thing is, that most of our army works abroad and Prince John won’t release them. I think for two reasons, he gets a big commission from their work and, though it is treacherous to say so, I feel he is in league with the Prince Victor and Queen Theophila, why else does he leave our army abroad and Clubland vulnerable? We must somehow revive our drunken Knight Nine, Sir Mosswood, and travel abroad to find and conscript an army to prepare for an invasion. But the cost will be huge, a little more than the church collection. Especially as we would have to pay some extortionate amount to Archbishop Melbourn.’
We sat in solemn silence. I got a perverse pleasure from milking the moment. ‘Huge cost did you say, Father?’ He nodded gravely.
 ‘We just haven’t got that sort of money.’
‘Yes, we have.’  They all turned to look at me with surprise. Slowly, I pulled out the black velvet pouch, stood up, leant over Father Ten’s desk, and poured the glittering diamonds out on to the blotter. A little hill sparkled in front of us. There were various sounds of muttering and whistling. Father Ten turned to look angrily and questioningly at me. ‘Where in the name of the good Lord… Did you steal this Jeffery?  It’s not right! I will not be part of it!’ he snapped with some asperity. I held up my hand, as a gesture of restraint.
 ‘It’s all right Father, the Rabbi gave it to me. He wants to make sure it happens. He is going to have as many Club workers sent back as possible. It’s all the more important for us, because our village, Clubton, is right next to the border.’ I added solemnly.  Father Ten smiled mischievously. He had a smile broad and generous, and because of the extra creases that developed on his face, it could melt the coldest heart. ‘Our Club Prince John is not going to like this.’ We all laughed and rose to go and save our indolent local Knight Sir Mosswood, from, as Father Ten put it, the evils of drink.