How Mrs. Claus Saved Christmas (33 page)

In fact, Arthur's main concern was that the march wouldn't have its desired effect on Parliament no matter how many men, women, and children participated. Back in London, he said, it was possible government leaders were more concerned about the king than Christmas.

“You know Charles escaped Parliament's custody for several weeks in November,” he reminded me. “Cromwell and his Puritans are starting to realize that the king won't do the convenient thing and cooperate completely with them. There is so much royalist support throughout England. A second civil war is certainly possible, and within months unless Parliament does something drastic. They could ignore our march altogether.”

“They
are
doing something drastic, and it involves Christmas,” I replied. “You wait and see. In ten days they're going to unleash Blue Richard Culmer and his minions on anyone who celebrates the holiday, and this will be meant to frighten everyone into complete submission, and not just about Christmas. That's why they won't ignore our march. They'll understand exactly what it means, that the people
will
have their voices heard whether Parliament permits it or not. I just hope nothing goes wrong. We're so close now.”

“I think, if something was going to prevent us, it would have happened by now,” Arthur said. “You've told me that Mayor Sabine has heard some rumors, which we expected. But the magnitude of our march will catch him by surprise.”

For a few more days, I thought so, too.

Directly in front of us, Janie stood beside two cloaked figures, both very tall, one of them thick-bodied and the other thin as a wraith. The heavy one threw off his hood, and I saw it was Mayor Avery Sabine, whose expression was disapproving and solemn. Then the thin one pulled back his hood, and I looked into the leering face of Blue Richard Culmer.

CHAPTER
Twenty

 

 

 

 

I
felt particularly tired on the evening of December 18 as Elizabeth, Sara, and I trudged home. Margaret Sabine had been in a snappish mood all day. Nothing any of the servants did pleased her. Worst of all, Janie had not come to work—I supposed she was ill—so I had to spend the whole day in the washing shed with Melinda, who was so nervous about the Christmas Day march that she dithered about and I had to do quite a bit of her work, as well as my own. Even Sara reported that Sophia had been very cross. The two girls hadn't exactly quarreled about anything, but by day's end they were mutually irritated and Sara was glad when it was time to leave.

So we walked slowly home, mostly in silence. I was thinking about the protest. We had told our team captains we would meet once more in the barn, on the night of December 24, and now I was wondering if we shouldn't meet on the twenty-third instead, since Avery Sabine's spies might be especially active on the day before Christmas. I asked Elizabeth what she thought, but she was worn out from her own long working day and made it clear she didn't want to talk.

It was already dark when we reached the cottage. I was surprised to see Arthur there, sitting at the table with Alan. The glow from candles was sufficient for me to see that Arthur had a scrap of paper in his hand.

“There was a message in the tree,” he told me. “I came by about an hour ago to check, and there it was.” He handed me the bit of paper, which had the outline of a candy cane scrawled on it with charcoal—that is what many poor people of the time used to write or draw. “We'll have to walk over to the barn, Layla. Whoever left this might already be waiting, since night has fallen.”

“What could someone need to tell us?” I asked. “Christmas Day and the protest are only a week away. Do you think there's a problem?”

“There could be,” Arthur mused, “but it's more likely that one of our captains is feeling nervous and wants some reassurance. You must remember, Layla, that most of the people who joined with us have never done something so bold in their lives. As the moment approaches, they're bound to worry. So why don't you and I go to the barn and see if that isn't what's happening. Probably a few soothing words will do the trick.”

“I'll go with you, too,” Alan said. “It's a cold, clear night and I'll enjoy the walk. Besides, if there is some sort of problem, perhaps I'll be able to help.”

Elizabeth then said that she would go, while Alan stayed with Sara. It had been a frustrating day at work, she said, what with Mrs. Sabine acting so angry, and so she wanted a chance to get out and clear her head and think of something else besides why there had been dust under one of the beds when Mrs. Sabine happened to look there. Several minutes went by while Alan and Elizabeth debated who should be able to go with Arthur and me, until finally Sara shouted crossly from her loft that they should both go, she was fine, and after all she was thirteen years old! Just
go,
for goodness' sake!

“I suppose she's right. She's old enough to be left by herself for a while,” Alan muttered, and so all four of us adults took the two-mile walk across hills to the barn. We brought a single lantern, but didn't need to light it. The moon was half-f, the stars twinkled, and by now we knew the way very well, even in the dark. As we walked, we talked quietly about the protest, and how wonderful it would be to see thousands of people joining together on behalf of Christmas, and this discussion put us all in better moods.

“Exactly one week from now, we'll be back in the cottage celebrating Christmas with extra enthusiasm,” Alan predicted. “The protest will go well, our message to Parliament will be clear, and the holiday in England will be saved. Just wait and see.”

When we reached the bottom of the steep hill with the barn above us, we lit the lantern so that if someone was waiting for us there he or she would see us approaching and not be startled when we arrived. Halfway up the slope we could see the silhouette of the barn against the night sky, and in the doorway there was also a lantern casting a small glow.

“Whoever it is, is waiting,” Elizabeth said. “Let's hurry and deal with this problem, whatever it might be. I really don't like Sara being alone back at the cottage. I don't care if she's thirteen.”

“Remember to be cautious,” Arthur warned. “Pull the hoods of your cloaks around your faces. Wait to see the candy cane before you go all the way into the barn and reveal yourselves.” But as we reached the crest of the hill and a small, dark figure also wrapped in a cloak stood in the doorway, I knew who it was even before she pulled her beloved candy cane out of a pocket and waved it at us.

“Janie, you weren't at work today,” I whispered. “Is something wrong?”

“Come inside, Layla, so we can talk, and bring your friends with you,” she replied, and turned back into the barn, her small lantern barely radiating enough light to see where she was going.

“It's Janie,” I said to my three companions. “It's all right.” We pulled our cloaks away from our faces and filed inside. It was very dark in the barn. Beside me, I could sense rather than see Arthur taking flint and stone from his pocket to strike a spark and light our lantern, too.

Then there was rustling behind us and to either side, and Janie said, “I have some people here, too.” The clicking of stone and flint echoed in several places, as did the louder
clack
of musket hammers being drawn back. Lanterns flared with sudden light, and Arthur, Elizabeth, Alan, and I saw we were surrounded by at least a dozen members of the Trained Band, each of them pointing his gun directly at us. The four of us were not armed. There were too many of them to fight, and they were all around us, so we couldn't run. Directly in front of us, Janie stood beside two cloaked figures, both very tall, one of them thick-bodied and the other thin as a wraith. The heavy one threw off his hood, and I saw it was Mayor Avery Sabine, whose expression was disapproving and solemn. Then the thin one pulled back his hood, and I looked into the leering face of Blue Richard Culmer.

“Ah, Missus Layla Nicholas,” he hissed with sarcastic courtesy. “You avoided becoming my guest in London five years ago. I'm so pleased to greet you now, and also your friends.
No,
sir!” he barked as Arthur moved to step between us. “You will stay still, or these men will shoot you down where you stand. I don't know your name, or that of these others.”

“The second woman is named Elizabeth Hayes,” Avery Sabine told him. “She works for my wife as a maid. The fellow with his arm around her is her husband.”

“I'm Alan Hayes,” my friend said bravely, his voice trembling a little. It is very frightening to have guns pointed at you. “What is the meaning of this? Mayor Sabine, why do you threaten peaceable citizens?”

“You're hardly peaceable,” Sabine replied. “You and your fellow conspirators, here, planned to incite a terrible riot in my city on Christmas Day. It was your intention to destroy property and set fires and encourage other citizens to join in the violence. Well, you're caught.”

“Who told you such lies?” Arthur demanded, but, my heart sinking, I already knew.

“Why, Janie?” I asked.

She stood behind Sabine and Culmer and had a sad smile on her face.

“From now on, I'm to be the upstairs maid instead of toiling in the washing shed,” Janie said. “That will make every working day like Christmas for me, Layla. And I never said nothing to this man about any violence. I told him the whole thing was to be peaceable, like.” She turned to Sabine. “Your honor, may I go now? Your missus wants me at work quite early tomorrow.”

“Yes, yes, go,” Sabine muttered. “Wait, here's a coin for you. Now, begone while we finish our business here.”

Those words chilled me. There were soldiers with guns, Blue Richard Culmer with his evil smile, and no witnesses. Perhaps Alan, Elizabeth, Arthur, and I were all to be shot. Culmer, watching me intently, guessed what I was thinking.

“There will be no executions here tonight, missus,” he said. “I have other plans for you and your friends. How foolish you were, what amateurs! Did you really believe you could confide your plans to so many people and not have one of them, at least, betray you? If you're the best defenders Christmas has, no wonder the holiday is going to be gone forever! You trust people, Missus Nicholas, and that's always a fatal flaw.”

“I'm the one who planned this, Culmer,” Arthur interjected. “These other three only did what I told them. They're frightened now by you and these guns. They've learned their lesson. Let them go.”

Culmer laughed—at least, the cackling sound he made was probably intended as laughter. “Oh, no, Mister—what is your name?”

“Arthur.”

“Well, Mr. Arthur, you and Missus Nicholas and these Hayes people are going to be helpful to me, which means helpful to England. Even traitors like you can be of use.”

Arthur bristled. “I'm no traitor to England, Culmer, now or ever. You're the traitor, terrorizing anyone who doesn't act exactly as you demand. And I don't care what you might have been told about plans for Christmas Day. Violence was never part of them. That's your way, not ours.”

“Oh, sometimes cracking heads or smashing windows is effective, but I have other ways, too,” Culmer replied. “You're about to find that out. You meant your Christmas riot to symbolize resistance. Now I will use you to symbolize the futility of resisting. Men, get out rope and tie these people up. Then let them sit down on the floor. There's hay strewn all about, so it shouldn't be too uncomfortable. We need to settle in. The night is still long, and we must wait until daylight.”

“I can't stay here all night,” Avery Sabine protested. “I have many important things to do tomorrow, and I need my rest.”

Culmer waved his hand. “Go back to your home and your bed, then. Mind you don't tell anyone about what happened here tonight. We want everyone to be surprised tomorrow.”

“Surprised by what?” Arthur asked.

“You'll see,” Culmer said. The mayor hurried out of the barn, and we could hear him stumbling down the steep hill. Avery Sabine was not a graceful man. Then Culmer watched as a few of the Trained Band set down their muskets and tied our hands behind us. We were forced to sit down. Elizabeth was crying a little. The sound of her sobs seemed to soothe Culmer, who lit a pipe and sat with his back to the bale of hay I presumed Father Joel used as an altar.

“I hope you're not uncomfortable,” he said sarcastically. “We'll be here until dawn. You'll understand why after that. Meanwhile, you may talk quietly, but if I even suspect you are trying to loosen your bonds and escape, I'll have one of you shot in front of the others. Four would be better for what I have planned, but three will do. Perhaps you might sing some Christmas carols to pass the time.”