Gideon the Cutpurse (29 page)

* * *

Although it was past one o'clock in the morning, Kate was still awake when she heard voices in the hall. She ran downstairs in her white nightgown. Peter and Sir Richard stood on the black-and-white marble floor and shrugged off their jackets. One look at Peter's pale face and his bowed shoulders and she knew the result of the race without having to ask.
"He lost, then. Where is he?"
"He didn't lose," said Peter. "But the machine was missing from the crypt and Lord Luxon accused us of stealing it. And because the parson fed that stuff to the Tar Man's horse to make him sick, Gideon was disqualified."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Kate.
"And there's worse. Much worse."
"Tell me!"
Sir Richard answered. "Lord Luxon has taken Gideon to the magistrate and has charged him with stealing his property. Gideon has been imprisoned."
"Gideon gave me these for safekeeping," said Peter.
He could hardly get the words out. He held up the horn that Gideon's father had given him, and his small spyglass. Peter slumped onto the bottom step of the curved staircase, sank his head against the wrought-iron banisters, and finally gave in to the tears that he had been struggling to hold back since seeing Gideon, his hands tied behind his back, being pushed into an open cart bound for Newgate Gaol.

TWENTY
Newgate
In which Gideon languishes in Newgate prison, the children meet a famous author, and a chance meeting leaves Kate overjoyed

The coach driver stopped outside St. Sepulchre's Church. It was the bells of this church that tolled for the condemned on hanging days, when a procession of carts took them on their final journey to Tyburn. Opposite St. Sepulchre's, on the other side of Newgate Street, the group saw the high stone walls of the infamous prison rising up before them. They walked through massive iron gates and stopped underneath the motto
Venio sicut fur,
which Parson Ledbury translated for them as "I come as a thief."
Sir Richard turned to Kate and Peter. "It is not too late to change your minds. I understand that Gideon is your friend, but there is no shame in turning away from such a place."
"No, no, I'm fine," lied Kate.
"Yeah, me too," said Peter.
Damp and despair seemed to leach out of the stones of the oppressive building. The walls of the entrance were decorated with the shackles and chains and iron fetters used to restrain the prisoners. Peter had expected Newgate prison to be closely guarded and for there to be strict routines and procedures. Yet the opposite seemed to be the case. There were no guards in sight, but a crowd of wretched folk was swarming in and out of the grimy forecourt. The visitors saw mothers followed by ragged hollow-eyed children, and they saw men and women of all ages, most of them in rags, and many of whom seemed to be crippled or lame, or raving or dead drunk. No one appeared to be in charge. Instead there was an atmosphere of barely contained chaos.
"We've got to get him out of here!" whispered Peter to Kate.
With sinking hearts Peter and Kate followed Sir Richard to the keeper's lodge, where he found a prison guard who was willing to take them to see Gideon. The guard was drinking beer with some other turnkeys, as they were called, and Sir Richard had to buy him another beer and pay him five shillings for the privilege. The turnkey took them to the master's side of the prison and into an inner courtyard, where the holding cells were to be found.
Parson Ledbury had warned Peter and Kate what to expect. He told them about the terrible stench, the roaring and howling of the prisoners packed in rooms far too small to contain them, the "hellcat women," who screeched abuse at passersby, and the multitude of hands that reached out through the windows in the hope that someone would drop money into their palms so that they could buy bread from the jailers. Peter and Kate knew Newgate prison was going to be hard to stomach, yet that knowledge did not prepare them for the gut-twisting reality. Oh, the nauseating, putrid, poisonous stink of it! The parson handed out the vinegar-soaked handkerchiefs that Hannah had supplied to put over their mouths and noses. The turnkey pulled the parson out of the way just in time as the contents of a chamber pot splattered in front of them. He bawled at the wild-eyed prisoner up above, who responded in kind with a stream of oaths. And the noise! Sir Richard had described it as the Newgate roar--a maddening cacophony of sounds: voices bellowing, shouting, howling, swearing, singing, calling from one cell to another...and then the clanking of chains, tankards being banged against metal bars, heavy doors clanging shut. It made Kate's ears ring and her nerves jangle. A hand suddenly shot out from a grated window and grabbed hold of her dress. She screamed with the shock of it, wanted to cover her ears and eyes, wanted above all to get out of there. She started to tremble uncontrollably. She did not want to go any nearer, did not want to see Gideon in this hellhole and be powerless to do anything to help.
"Please take me out of here," she said simply to Sir Richard.
Sir Richard nodded. "Tell Gideon I'll come and see him tomorrow," he said, and escorted Kate back to the carriage.
The parson and Peter continued to follow the turnkey down a series of corridors.
"This is the cell you require, gentlemen," said the turnkey.
He unlocked a door, and they walked into a room smaller than an average classroom. As Peter stepped inside, the stench, the noise, and the heat struck him like a blow to the head. The guard, the parson, and Peter stood in a narrow gangway, metal bars between them and the thirty or forty prisoners, young and old, men and women, who remained here twenty-four hours a day. Some of them were shackled to the wall or the floor, some of them sat or lay on the bare wooden shelves that served as beds, but most of them were on the move. A woman was slumped against the bars in a drunken stupor, her jaw hanging open and a bottle of kill-grief clutched loosely in her hand. Peter saw a squat man with bulging eyes creep up behind her and deftly remove the bottle of gin from her grasp.
Peter could not see Gideon at first. The cell was a snake pit, bodies writhing and weaving between each other. Peter was aware of a curious noise that was noticeable over and above the general din. He couldn't pinpoint it until he looked down, and then he saw what it was. The floor was covered with a thick carpet of lice, and whenever anyone moved their feet, there was a crunching sound as a few more were crushed into the ground. Peter shuddered.
Parson Ledbury and Peter breathed through their handkerchiefs, their eyes darting everywhere for a glimpse of Gideon.
"These conditions are intolerable!" said the parson to the turnkey.
"They get used to it--if they don't die first," the turnkey replied.
Suddenly Peter spotted him. Gideon seemed to be the only prisoner who was completely still. He stood leaning against the far wall. His eyes were closed and, miraculously, Peter saw the faintest trace of a smile pass over his features. Someone must have stolen his shirt and his boots, for he was dressed only in a pair of breeches. His encounter with the Tar Man had left its mark: One eye was still badly swollen, and large purple and yellow bruises were clearly visible on his chest. Peter cringed as he saw that Gideon was having to stand in all these lice in bare feet.
"Gideon!" he shouted.
Gideon's eyes shot open and looked in Peter's direction. His face lit up but instantly turned serious. He pushed his way toward the metal bars.
"You should not have come," he said. "I would have wished to spare you this. I am ashamed to be seen in this place."
Parson Ledbury had already taken off his jacket and was now pulling off his shirt, which he pushed through the bars to Gideon.
"Here, Mr. Seymour; it is too big, but you are very welcome to it," said the parson.
Gideon took it gratefully and immediately put it on.
"You are very good, Parson. Thank you."
"I am not very good, Mr. Seymour, and I have come to ask your forgiveness for what I did yesterday. I fear that my interference is responsible in part for your sorry plight."
"Do not blame yourself, Parson," replied Gideon. "I have been a thorn in Lord Luxon's side for too long. I have been expecting something of the sort--it was only a matter of time. However, I do regret, most sincerely, our failure to win back the machine for Peter and Mistress Kate."
"We brought you some food," said Peter.
He then thrust the bundle of bread, cheese, and roast chicken and the flagon of wine they had brought through the bars. This was a mistake because invisible hands immediately snatched it, and Gideon's dinner was dispersed throughout the cell with lightning speed, causing unseen scuffles within the mass of bodies.
"No!" cried Peter uselessly. "Give it back!"
The turnkey laughed. "You cannot expect good table manners from wild dogs."
The parson glared at him.
Gideon said resignedly, "You cannot blame them. They have been here longer than I, and if they have no money they cannot buy food. Half of them are starving."
Parson Ledbury looked sadly at all the faces crowded behind the iron bars--anger and hatred, misery and utter hopelessness stared back at him.
"Mr. Seymour," said the parson, "we have come to tell you that you are not abandoned. We shall do everything in our power to secure your release. Do not lose hope."
"I shall not lose hope. I am innocent of the crime of which I have been accused. I put my faith in God and in my friends. And I thank you for coming with all my heart, Parson Ledbury, but please, I would ask you to leave now. I do not wish Master Peter to linger here--Newgate has a habit of persisting in men's dreams."
"As you wish," replied the parson, "but I shall return with Sir Richard on the morrow."
"Good-bye, Peter," said Gideon. "Tell Mistress Kate that she must not lose hope."
"But I wanted to stay. I wanted to keep you company for a while," Peter started to protest.
"Mr. Seymour is right," said the parson. "We will be better employed hiring the finest lawyer in London to represent him at his trial."
They caught the attention of the turnkey and asked him to let them out. At the last minute Peter turned around and said to Gideon, "What were you smiling at when we arrived?"
Gideon managed another smile. "They have locked up my body, but they can imprison neither my mind nor my soul. I was taking a stroll by the stream in the valley where you caught the trout, feeling the sun on my head and breathing in the good air."

* * *

On their way out Parson Ledbury asked the turnkey how much he would charge to put Gideon into a less crowded cell and to get him some decent food to eat.
"Twenty guineas for a room with five prisoners, or five hundred pounds will buy you the best lodgings in Newgate."
"Twenty guineas! Five hundred pounds!" exclaimed Parson Ledbury. "Why, that is a king's ransom! Here, have five guineas on account. I will return tomorrow, when I shall give you the rest. I shall expect to see Mr. Seymour in more salubrious surroundings and with a good dinner inside him."
"But what about the people who cannot afford to pay you?" asked Peter. "What happens to them?"
"Why, they should have thought of that before they took it into their heads to break the law."
"But it's not fair!" shouted Peter, burning with righteous rage and tears welling in his eyes. "It's wicked to treat human beings like that! You are an evil man! You should be in that cell, not Gideon!"
The parson interrupted Peter and pulled him firmly away.
"Thank you, Master Turnkey. Until tomorrow."
When they were out of earshot of the turnkey, he continued, "It would be wise to resist provoking the man on whom your friend is dependent for his every need."

* * *

Peter and the parson joined Kate and Sir Richard in the carriage.
"How was he?" Kate asked.
"How do you think?" Peter replied bitterly. "It is the most disgusting, horrible place I've ever seen. They'd stolen his shirt and his boots. It stank worse than the elephant house at the zoo. The floor was crawling with lice. I don't think he wanted me to see him like that."
Sir Richard opened the door and called up to the driver, "Take us to John Leche's chambers, Middle Temple!"
Sir Richard took note of Peter's pale tear-stained face and the way Kate sat, hunched up and a frown etched onto her forehead, her hands pulling distractedly at her handkerchief.
"To be separated from your families and everyone you know," he said softly, "is hard enough, but to have to witness the cruel incarceration of your friend as well must seem more than you can bear. Yet I tell you that you are not alone and that this will pass. All this will pass and you
will
know happier times again. In the meantime I promise you that Gideon's stay in Newgate prison will be short. John Leche is an excellent man and a fine lawyer. I am certain that he will prove Mr. Seymour's innocence to the world."

* * *

While Sir Richard tried to comfort Peter and Kate, a clerk of the court, wearing a dusty black robe, was hurrying out of the Old Bailey. The great law court was conveniently placed next door to the prison, and the two buildings were linked by an underground tunnel. The clerk hurried across the street and into Newgate prison, where he approached the turnkey who had shown the way to Gideon's cell.
"Good day, Samuel," said the clerk. "You look displeased with the world this morning!"
"Good day to you, Ethan. Nay, "tis nothing. After nigh on ten years of protecting society from this den of thieves and felons, I am accustomed to the ingratitude of the public."
"Ay, Samuel, ingratitude is our lot in life. However, I have urgent business to attend to and must ask you to fetch a certain Gideon Seymour, who is required to appear in court at two o' clock."
"I have just come from him! He was brought here but last night! I happen to know that his friends have not yet had the occasion to hire a lawyer, let alone one who can appear at such short notice."
"That is as may be," replied the clerk, tapping the side of his nose, "but there are people interested in this case who have great influence. I should get him into court without delay, if you know what's good for you. I hear that the straw men have done good business this day, and rumor has it that there's a thief-taker involved whom you would be foolish to cross. I also happen to know that the King is leaving the city tonight and the Recorder of London must send him reports of all forthcoming executions before sunset."
"Executions! What crime has Mr. Seymour committed? He seems a gentle sort of fellow."
The clerk shrugged his shoulders. "What crime indeed."
For a moment the turnkey was tempted to run over to the carriage that was just moving away, to tell the parson about Gideon's imminent trial. Then he remembered how Peter had called him an evil man, and he decided instead to return for a while to the keeper's lodge. After another beer or two he would get around to escorting his prisoner through the dank tunnel that linked Newgate prison to the Old Bailey.