Chapter Six

It was incredible. It was fantastic. I, Jeffrey Lock, a Two Club had on my first day upstairs at Court disposed of the Purser, the Royal locksmith Jackson, made friends of two Knights, spoken to the King, knocked over a Princess, been sworn at by all the future kings  and had a fight with the most hated man in Cardland, the Black Prince Victor, and had been cursed, stroked and praised by the Queen. Not bad for my first day. I wondered fleetingly if they would still give me a good reference. The most crucial points of all were that I had openly tried to save the Queen and conveyed valuable information to her. I had become a minor favourite to her. Let’s face it, the old Cardland Proverb of  ‘she who rocks the cradle, deals the cards,’ to me, is written in stone. I should think even Moses had that on the slab.
The Queen had ruled that from now on I would have the privilege of carrying a sword at Court. It was unprecedented, I was the first Club below Seven to be allowed that honour. Also she would see to it soon that I would be sent to their tailor for a new costume, more fitting for Court and, by Royal appointment, her personal locksmith. That worried me considerably for as I had heard at Gossip’s corner I might be in the centre of a conflict between the King and Queen. From now on I would have to play my cards close to my chest. After these ‘rewards’ she sent me below stairs for the rest of the day. Quite prudent, I suppose, since Prince Victor, Sir Beal and his killing squad had not quite left, and they just might want to take me with them.
Below stairs, there were no locks to mend, service or change, so the head footman with somewhat obvious pleasure put me to work cleaning silver, brass, tin, and pewter.
While I rubbed, blew, spat and pummelled, slowly the eyes and face of Topaz seemed to appear in the reflection of the metal object that I was bringing a shine to and when she faded, the pretty Two Heart locksmith, with her special smile and humorous eyes, and I pondered what a tortuous thing the memory was, offering fleeting glimpses, then as if the mind itself was a silver plate fading without the attention of the eyes.
It wasn’t till seven of the clock, that I was released by the head Footman, a Three and by the time I reached the Club borders it was dark.
 The yawning diamond guards at the border post hardly bothered to look up as I crossed the border, they were quite decent, it was the morning guards that I always had trouble with.
 I could just see the vast silhouette of the forest of Clubland, at the end of the Rondel Valley, against the purple and red of the sky. Even though I knew this forest well, I would have to walk Betty. It was too dark and she was too old. It was no way to treat an old farm girl.
Before I had got halfway through the forest it was dark, and when the moon rising ahead of me ducked behind a cloud it was black. Still, I felt relieved that I was back in my country. It felt good. I was tired of diamonds. What did they do but glitter? Give me a dull but useful club every time. The moon rushing to the edge of the clouds, shone brighter and exposed the clearing that led to Clubtown and home on the edge of the forest.
Just as I reached the last few trees, to my left, there was a rush and swaying of moving shadows, a blur of parting branches and leaves and a gust of air, as something heavy rushed past my head. I already had forward momentum, so I used it and dived forward, rolling over my head, and into a squatting position… and grabbed for my dagger, which would be quicker to draw out than my sword, and better for close combat in the trees. Christ, what a fucking day! ‘Show yourself, villain!’ I shouted, as aggressively as I could. ‘Murderer! Thief!’
 A familiar, ponderous, deep, gritty voice, full of abject apology, answered from the silver darkness. ‘Sorry, master Jeffery!’ A large round face loomed up close. It was Lupo, the odd card, a blank card. No rank or station whatsoever, the dull witted man of the forest. He had been slung out of every village as an idiot. But I had always had a soft spot for Lupo. He was simple but very sensitive. In the past I had tried to help or stand by him.
 ‘Oh bad flushes! I am so sorry, Master Two! I thought you was a robber after my mushrooms.’ I studied his fat face. His skin looked milky and anaemic in the moonlight. His small brown eyes watched me fearfully like a child. ‘Did I hurt the master?’ He asked in his rich indigenous local burr. I smiled.
 ‘No, you missed again, Lupo.’ He shook his head so vigorously that even in the dark I could see a spray of dirt flung from his unkempt hair.
 ‘Oh, no, master, I never miss with my club. At the moment of aiming at your head, I saw your shape. I see that, see.’
 I patted his arm, the coarse wool was damp and slimy, and I was relieved that the wind blew from the east, down the Rondel Valley.
  ‘Lupo. You do not have to call me master. I am only a Two Club.’
 He shook his head and there was that spray of dirt again. ‘To me master you is an Ace.’
 Someone who looked up to me at last. I felt it only fair to warn him of my fears. ‘Listen carefully, Lupo. I fear we will be invaded soon. As a friend, I think it only fair to warn you.’
 His head lolled to one side and his jaw dropped. He really did look an idiot. ‘Who, master?’
 ‘Some of the spades led by Prince Victor. So take care of yourself.’  He grinned, as if I had given him the rank of ace, then pulled out a small wooden whistle. It was beautifully carved.
‘Blow that end… (he pointed) for night, that’s an owl, see? (I nodded). Blow this end, for day. Now that’s a wood pigeon, wild they are  (he gave me a black toothed grin) Wild like me!’ He laughed heartily at his own joke. At least, I assumed it was a joke.
 I smiled endearingly. ‘Yes, thank you, Lupo. So, if I am in trouble I blow hard? (he nodded) and if you are in trouble?’
 ‘Oh I won’t be in trouble. If I blow mine it will be to warn you there be trouble coming.’
 I looked down at my whistle. ‘That’s good. Thank you Lupo.’ I looked up but he was gone, in to the shadows. No noise, no movement. Bastard, I thought affectionately. I couldn’t resist it. I blew the owl end.
‘Yes, master?’
It had been an instant. His voice was above me. I looked up. He was hanging from a branch, we were almost nose to nose. ‘I’m sorry Lupo, I was just testing.’
 He tugged his forelock. ‘That’s all right master. Now I must trap my supper.’ His lunar face lifted away like a Chinese rocket into the stars.