Chapter Twenty Seven: Year's End
"And this is London?" Hermione asked as they walked the street from London House heading generally toward the Thames. She marveled at the odd mixture of modern and medieval, as Harry pointed out the sites to her.
"Do you know where we are now?" Harry asked at one point, after they had turned a corner.
"Should I?"
"In a different London, this is Kings Cross." He pointed to a baker's shop. "I compared the maps. That shop is where the entrance to the station would be."
"I smell fresh bread."
At Harry's invitation, they entered the shop.
"I love those Holiday Cakes," Hermione said, pointing at the tray of Petit Fours.
"As you command," Harry said gracefully, and ordered a dozen.
"Forgive me, Sir," the Baker said as he packaged the order. "Would you be Lieutenant Lord Somerset?"
"One of them, Goodman," Harry said with a grin. "Henry Somerset."
"The Bristol Boy," the baker said in awe before he could catch himself. He then began to apologize, but Harry stopped him.
Hermione smirked. "I know I will prove myself a fool, but what is a Bristol Boy?"
"You jest, My Lady."
"No to both," Hermione said, "In my ignorance I have never heard that phrase, and I am not a lady. I am GOODWOMAN Hermione Granger."
"Goodman Tom Powell," the baker said. "But if you are a friend of Lord Somerset, surely you would know."
"I study Magic, not ships," Hermione said.
"At your age, Goodwoman?" The Baker asked. "You must have started only recently. I have a nephew, fifteen, and in his second year as an apprentice." The baker then related how his nephew was discovered to have enough talent to be trained and had begun his studies at the University of London. In turn, Hermione explained that she was sitting in on lectures, courtesy of Harry's Godfather, who was a Sorcerer. She was invited to attend the University once she was of age.
Harry was happy for the change of subject but it did not last. Tom the Baker dared to ask, finally, why Lord Somerset never explained about the Bristol Boys. Hermione said he probably forgot.
"Should I, My Lord?" Tom asked in all seriousness.
Harry nodded and stepped back, as though to show he was not part of the conversation.
"It was before your time, Goodwoman Hermione," Tom told the girl, "But what do you know about the Bristol?"
"I read about it in History. The Polish fleet tried to break out of the Baltic. The Bristol was the first ship there. Harry, I'm sorry, Lord Henry's uncle was Captain. I know he was killed."
"I had a cousin on the Bristol," Tom said. "He died, too. They were the first ship. It was an impossible situation. But they stood fast, and they succeeded. They stopped the Polish fleet. When someone young does the impossible, he's called a Bristol Boy, like Lord Henry Somerset."
Hermione tried to smirk. "What did he do that was impossible?"
Tom the Baker glared at Harry, as though any friend of his should have no need to ask such a question. "I read about it. Three Sorcerers and My Lord and Sir Farley stopped them in their tracts, then killed their Captain."
"That isn't true," Harry interrupted. "The Captain took his own life," his voice trailed off. "He refused to surrender."
"I remembered falsely, My Lord," the baker said as an apology. The Lieutenant clearly did not care to talk about the matter.
Harry smoothed it over, saying this was not the season for such talk.
As they left, Hermione asked how Harry felt. "He was bragging about something that you did."
"He was bragging about men dying, Hermione."
"No, he wasn't," Hermione said, almost shouting. "He was talking about men who lived, because of you. I know about your ship being attacked, Ron told me, but it took a chance meeting in a strange town to find out that you . . . that you're a hero."
Harry refused to listen.
"Remember. It was a year and a half ago. You were a hero then, too. And I told you, you were the better wizard."
"I remember."
"Did you ever wonder how I knew that?"
"Hermione, don't . . ."
Hermione stopped in her tracks, forcing Harry to stop as well.
"Goodman Tom was right. You have to accept that, Harry. Not because you're some Lord or something or a high and mighty officer or nephew of the King." Hermione looked Harry in the eyes. "Underneath all of this, you're still Harry Potter. You have to do your best because that is who you are. In this world, they call you a Bristol Boy. It's not a compliment, Harry. They just want to tell you they know you."
Hermione watched as Harry stood there in thought. Then she pulled him into a hug. "Thank you for being you."
"Thank you," Harry whispered in return, "for putting me in my place."
"And now we have to go back to the bakery."
Harry was surprised. "Why."
"We forgot the holiday cakes."
Harry and Hermione laughed. They were still grinning when they met Goodman Tom again. Harry grabbed the bag of sweets and they continued their walk until Hermione stopped him again.
"What was that?" Hermione asked not long afterward as they passed an alleyway between the shops. She stopped to look down the alley and saw a bundle of blankets against a wall.
Harry stepped cautiously into the alley and saw a small form sleeping inside the bundle. As he bent over, he put his hand on the wall and noticed it was warm. Whoever was sleeping here was not stupid. This was the back to a fireplace. Harry lifted up the blanket to look underneath, and saw a boy who could have been anywhere between six and nine.
"Bill?" The boy asked, then looked up to see Harry in his Naval uniform. "I dint do it, I swear."
"I apologize for disturbing your rest," Harry replied calmly. "We were curious who would be out in this weather."
The boy looked at him with a mixture of fear and anger, then noticed Hermione. A glint of cunning came into his eyes. "Is only me, milord. An I would not pass up a shilling or two for being woke up."
"Harry, we can't leave him here," Hermione said anxiously. She gave the boy a look that Mrs. Weasley would have been proud of.
"I won't be stayin'," the boy said as he recognized the look and the tone of voice. "Just tired. All rested now." He began to get up, and roll up his blankets.
"No," Hermione insisted as she walked up to the boy and put her hand on his shoulder. "You're not going to run off anywhere." She turned to Harry, "We have to do something to help him?"
"You can let go," The boy yelled and kicked Hermione. When she released his shoulder to grab her leg, he pelted down the alley to the street.
Harry watched in amusement. "How are you?"
"Fine. I'm not hurt. Harry, why did he run like that? It's obvious he doesn't have a home."
"I would not know. Maybe he did not like the orphanage? Or perhaps church welfare was not good enough for him?"
A voice called from the street. "Lieutenant?"
Harry looked up to see an Armsman standing at the end of the alley, the boy firmly held by one hand. Hermione took his hand and they both walked back to the street.
"My usual patrol, Sir," the Armsman said. "I was up a ways and I saw you and the lady enter the alley. I thought I would investigate. And it is good that I did. What did he steal?"
Harry identified himself and said congenially. "He stole nothing. We disturbed him and he ran because he was afraid of us."
"Is that true, Miss?"
"The boy was sleeping in the alley," Hermione said with passion. "We were only trying to help him."
The boy frowned when Hermione said this, and scowled when the Armsman asked, "Your home, boy. Where is it? You get a free ride and a meal to go with it." The Armsman noted the scowl. "You get the meal anyway, but you are coming with me."
Hermione was surprised at the boy's reaction. It was one of surrender.
The Armsman smiled to them. "The boy will be fine, Lieutenant. I hope you and your lady enjoy the rest of your leave." He walked off, dragging the now unprotesting boy with him.
"What will happen to him?" Hermione asked.
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "He will end up in an orphanage. After that, he could run off and be back on the streets. Or he might wait until the end of winter."
"You're very casual about this."
"Hermione, this is not a happy world. It is an orderly one, but that does not mean that everyone is happy. Everyone has a place, and some fall through the cracks, regardless of what we do. That boy will be given some warm food and a warm bed, but he may not take it. He may or may not run away. I do not know, and I can not do anything about it."
"Harry," Hermione said with a touch of anger. "You are a lord. That should mean something."
"It means my father was Marquis. That is all it means." Hermione gave him a puzzled look. "It is this way. My father was Marquis of London. I am Lord Henry because of that. I do not have a title. Because I do not have a title any children that I have will be common. For them, the fact that I am a lord does not matter. Do you understand?"
Hermione nodded, and they continued their way back to the town house.
"Where is the police station, or whatever you call it here?" Hermione's tone was casual.
"The barracks? A mile from here, not much more. Why?" Harry gave her a wry look. "They will not let you take him home. You know that."
Hermione nodded. "I feel responsible. I would like to make sure he's alright."
"We will return home and get something warm to drink. If no one objects, we will take the coach for a ride. IF we pass the barracks, we will stop."
"Thank you, Harry," Hermione said and gave his hand a squeeze. As they walked, she asked another question. What Harry had told her about titles had reminded her of Owen. She thought to ask why she did not have to worry about titles when she was with him. She was not happy with the answer.
"Robert would be the better person to ask, but this is what I know. O'Connell has a reputation for practical jokes. He had you call him by his Christian name because that would let everyone know that you had little knowledge of protocol. He then led you to the one person in the room that would assume he had kept you in ignorance deliberately. It worked. Lady Sheffield immediately took you under her wing."
Harry left Hermione with Robert and O'Connell. His revelation of O'Connell's prank did not sit well with her, and she intended to give the Irish boy a piece of her mind. Harry used the initial scuffle as an excuse to disappear. He headed for the stables, grateful that Lord Bontriomphe had him taught to ride a horse during any free time he had. He told Gwilliam not to mind him, and saddled the mare he had been given. She was everything Harry needed, gentle, willing and patient, especially patient. She also had Harry trained to bring her sugar or an apple every time he came to ride her.
The Armsman at the entrance to the barracks looked up in surprise to see a Naval officer ride up, especially one so young. He saluted, and Harry returned it and dismounted.
"Forgive my rudeness, Armsman. A young boy was brought here today. He was discovered by a friend of mine and she wanted me to look in on him."
The Armsman nodded. "If it were my wife, she would make me do the same. Is she a close friend?"
"Of my brother," Harry answered, and both smiled.
"I'll mind your horse, Lieutenant. The Sergeant at Arms should be inside. His office is to the right."
Harry thanked the man and entered the barracks. A few minutes later he was in a barred room with the boy he had woken earlier.
The boy had been washed thoroughly and given a change of ill-fitting clothes, and was now staring at the food in front of him as though it were poison. He gave Harry the same look.
"I was told to come," Harry said evenly. "I am ordered to ask you if you need anything from me."
"Ordered?"
"Her name is Hermione. It is easier to obey than argue. She was the girl you kicked."
"Why should she care?"
"She wants you to have a happy home."
Both boys smirked. The boy replied, "Tell her she's done enough, thanks all the same."
"Can I contact anyone for you?"
"You'll tell them," the boy hissed.
Harry noted that the boy's eyes darted toward the barred door.
"I give you my word as an officer," Harry said, "that I will tell them nothing about what you say, without your permission."
"You're lying. You always lie."
"I could fetch Hermione. She will make you talk." Harry gave the boy an earnest look. "She made me come here."
The boy snorted again, then gave Harry a pleading look. "Can I really trust you?"
Harry nodded. "I gave you my word."
The boy had Harry move close to him, and began to whisper, "could you tell Billy what happened?"
"And Billy is?"
"My brother."
Harry nodded. "Where do I find him and what does he look like?"
The boy, who revealed his name was Michael, told Harry everything he knew. Michael was happy to have the chance to confide in someone, even if it was only a boy four years older then him.
Michael was a Tadpole. He lived on the streets for the most part, but he did have an occasional home. He also had a family, of a sort. Tadpoles, or Mudlarks as they are also called, were always in danger but they would be adopted by families. Michael was adopted more than two years before by a boy, no older at that time than Harry was now. The boy, known as Slippery Bill was big for his age as Michael was small. They made a good team when conditions demanded they 'borrow' items without permission. It was not the ideal circumstances for a child, but it kept him safe from worse things.
Lord Darcy rode his horse to a section of London he would never visit for social reasons. He found the nearest Armsman's station and left his horse, daring to walk the rest of the way. At one point he paused to turn his fine cloak inside out. It was a drab and well-used cloak when he stepped into the common room of the Lonely Soul, pausing as his eyes adjusted to the dimness.
"Can I help you, dearie?" a waitress said as she came up to him.
"I apologize, Goodwoman," LordDarcy said in a rougher voice than normal. "I'm looking for a friend."
"Go ahead and look, then," the waitress said.
Lord Darcy ordered a mug of the local brew from the bar and commented honestly that it was better than he expected. He then stood for a while in the corner where he had a good view of the common room. Making his choice, he walked to one of the long tables and sat down in an empty spot on the bench.
After trading small talk with the young man across from him, he made his pitch. "I'm lookin for a lad about your size. For possible work. A lot of walking. Name's R.C."
"Might be interested. Friends call me Bill. What's in it for me?"
"That depends on how much you want in. Where can we talk?"
Lord Darcy excused himself after finishing his beer, and left. He made his way carefully to the alleyway, and waited. Twenty minutes later, Bill was there, with two older, and bigger, friends.
"We came to find out what you really wanted," Bill told him. "And we want the truth." The two friends grinned with expectation. Darcy turned his head and saw another man standing casually at the mouth of the alley, to dissuade any interruptions.
Darcy smiled sincerely. "It concerns Michael. Did you know that he is with the Armsmen at High Street?"
"He IS a King's Man," One of the friends said menacingly.
"But I am not an Armsman," Lord Darcy said evenly, then added with a grin, "You did want the truth."
The friend paused. It was Bill's business, and thus Bill's call. The young man glared at Darcy. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"You do not, but it should be obvious. If I were here to arrest you, I would have at least a dozen Armsmen with me. Instead, I am alone. But it seems that Michael took my nephew into his confidence. My nephew agreed to contact you, but conditions forced him to confide in me, instead. Please apologize to your brother when you see him for my nephew's breach but it was necessary."
Darcy smiled inwardly. Bill was clearly convinced that he was telling the truth, but Bill had no idea what the point was. After all, if the Armsmen had Michael, what point was there in him trying to get to his brother. That was when Darcy threw his surprise at Bill.
"Do you still wish to enter the King's Guard?"
All three men stared at him. "How did you know about that?" Bill asked.
"As it was told to me, when you found Michael you tried to enlist. He saw you go to the Main Barracks."
"He followed me?"
"Bill?" a friend asked.
"It's when I first found him. I had this . . ." He waved his hand as though to swat the dream away.
"He was refused," Darcy interrupted, "because he had no endorsement. But it was a good plan. You could have given him a real home . . . If you are interested, Bill, I can guarantee an endorsement this time, and you can forget your old life . . . completely."
Bill and his friends knew what Lord Darcy meant. If Bill did this, it was with the understanding that his past would not come into the picture. No one would ask about it. No one would tell about it. But Bill wavered.
"Tha's a good deal," Bill's other friend said after a silent pause. "If ye mean to do it."
"What do I do?" Bill asked.
"Report to the Main Barracks." Darcy paused. "Michael did not know his last name."
"That's cause I don't know mine, neither," Bill laughed.
Lord Darcy grinned. "Then I will tell them to expect you."
As Lord Darcy went to leave the alley, the closer of Bill's friends put his hand up. The man at the end of the alley nodded and went back into the Lonely Soul. Darcy nodded to the men and left. Under his cloak he returned his MacGregor pistol to his underarm holster.
Lord Darcy entered the town house and asked that Lord Henry be summoned at once. Harry appeared shortly, and at his uncle's request, left with him, giving his brother and his friends a quick apology. Robert assured Hermione that he would return shortly and let them know the rest of the story. Caroline Sheffield offered to play a game of card in the meantime, and they returned to the sitting room.
The two returned to the barracks where Harry had been that morning, and they walked in to see the Sergeant at Arms. Lord Darcy identified himself and the Sergeant sent an Armsman to fetch the boy in question. As the boy was escorted into the office, Lord Darcy greeted him.
"Are you well, Michael?"
The boy glared daggers at Harry, but Lord Darcy reached down and forced the boy to look at him. "He told me, and only me so that I could deliver your message." He gave the boy a friendly smile as Michael relaxed his look, then added, "I gave him a message of my own as well. He should be here shortly to tell you about it."
The Sergeant stared. "My Lord, if you know something pertinent to the law you should have told me, or one of the Armsmen."
"I did," Darcy said easily. "I took everything this boy told my nephew, confirmed the pertinent facts and related them to the Captain of the Watch. The other party, Bill, is coming here to confirm those facts." He handed the Sergeant a piece of paper. "This are his orders, for when he arrives."
The Sergeant was dumbfounded. "This is an enlistment?"
"Indeed it is," Lord Darcy said with an honest grin. "It is simple to understand, Sergeant. The boy, Bill, had a hard life, and when he found Michael he found out he had a heart. He was still young enough that it had not hardened completely. He tried to reform, but he was in a quandary. He could join the Army, or (a nod to Harry) the Navy, but then he would have to let Michael go. But if he became an Armsman . . . Do you see the point?"
"And he's still interested?" the Sergeant asked.
"Circumstances made him amenable. Presented as the option to lose his brother, possibly forever, as opposed to trying to revive what he considered a fantasy." Lord Darcy nodded. "He is interested in joining the King's Guard."
As they talked, an Armsman walked up with the new recruit.
"And you must be Goodman William," the Sergeant said, pausing as the boy, Michael let out a cry, and the two hugged each other. Bill apologized and the Sergeant laughed. "You haven't been sworn in yet. You can do whatever you want. That includes leaving, if you have any second thoughts."
Bill shook his head. He would stay.
Harry was surprised at what his uncle had done, but the man had a reputation for solving problems. Lord Darcy even admitted that this one was handed to him with the solution begging. He also pointed out that it was not a happy ending. Bill, or Goodman William as they called him, did not have an easy life in front of him. And he had taken on the responsibility of a family as well. He would have to teach Michael new ways.
"I must admit," Lord Darcy said as he related the events at the dinner table, "Goodman William was very much surprised to find out the name of the man who endorsed him."
"I should imagine," Lord Bontriomphe added. "You are the Chief Investigator for His Highness."
"I also noted that I was doing so at the request of Lieutenant Lord Henry Somerset. It seems that his exploits are known even among the poorer parts of this city."
Lord London was impressed. "Do they have respect for him as well?"
Lord Darcy smiled. "If you must know, they hold him in higher regard then we do."
Lord London was pleased, but he was also confused. Hermione was, as well, but was willing to admit it.
"It is this way, Goodwoman," Lord Bontriomphe explained. "Before he became Lord Henry, he was a commoner with a name we will not mention. The specifics were not told but he was known to have lived meanly, with only recent schooling to improve his outlook. Then his true origins were discovered and he was raised up to an exalted rank by comparison. It is everyone's dream to wake up and discover they are really Lord So-And-So. But for a boy named Harry, it actually happened."
"Then Harry's a fairy tale come true?" Hermione said. She grinned at Harry. "Somehow, that seems appropriate."
"But there is more to this fairy tale," Lord Darcy added. "All of you know the story of the Hermes. Harry became Lord Henry and then disappeared again, lost at sea. Two weeks later, he reappears as the hero in the capture of a privateer. To the poor, he is a living legend. Do you understand?"
Hermione nodded. "It's the legend of King Arthur, but in modern form."
Lord Darcy gave his approval. "You are astute, Hermione, but I would have chosen Robin of the Wood. Master Sean was correct about you in every detail." He turned to look at the boy next to Lord London. "Harry, do you understand?"
"Yes, Uncle," Harry admitted, "but there is still the sense of unreality."
"Something happened, Harry," Robert insisted. "You must tell us."
"It was after Bill was sworn in. Uncle explained who I was and . . ." Harry paused in embarrassment, ". . . he knelt in front of me and grabbed my hand before I could react, and kissed my signet ring."
In the back of his mind, Harry could still hear Bill's next words. "My life is yours, My Lord."
