Wednesday, March 9, 1881

On Wednesday, the weather is clear but cool. The pigeons start cooing at dawn. Thanks to bread crumbs and Miss Vastra, two of them join us for breakfast. Afterwards we do another hour of blade class, working on my grip; and practicing slicing, with bits that will make pigeon soup. After that, Miss Vastra's decides that we'll raid my flat in this morning, while everyone's gone to work or bustling around doing their errands. She has her cloak, her hood is up to cover her face, and she's wearing a scarf and long gloves. With the cool weather, she doesn't look out of place. Bet it's harder for her in the summer, though.

I live, or I guess I use to live, on the east side of the City of London proper, just inside the city limits, west of the Tower and east of Billingsgate Market, just off Lower Thames Street. Da sometimes grumbled about not living further east, but that's Whitechapel, a bad area, and Ma hated it. And it was not too far a walk from home to the deep docks. The small match factory I worked at was near Da's work too. It's not one of the big ones up in Old Ford; there were only about a hundred or so of us working there. Mostly wives, sweethearts and daughters of the dockworkers.

Miss Vastra and I walk; it's not far, about twenty minutes. Miss Vastra takes great interest in watching the changing streets. I look for the great London Dragons on the Coal Exchange, a familiar sight. I've visited Cheapside many times, though its shops are too dear for me, but as we get closer to my flat, the area becomes more familiar to me… and less familiar to Miss Vastra.

"The Apes here are very rough," She says, eyeing a couple of costermongers selling thread and needles, "They remind me of their wild ancestors who roamed the forests of my childhood. I miss hunting. What I could accomplish around here in a weekend..."

"If you'd come here a week ago with your sword and that thought, you could have killed me."

Miss Vastra is quiet for a few moments, as we cross the street. Eventually she says, "I don't hunt hatchlings."

"Children, ma'am. Humans have children, not hatchlings. And while I can't argue with you killing someone who's trying to kill you or me, hunting and murdering mothers and fathers for fun, and leaving children without their parents… that's a terrible bad thing. Don't do that. They'll kill you for that, sure as day."

I glance up at her. "Yer an adult. You should know better."

She shrugs, and we keep walking along.

It's clouding up a bit, there'll be rain later.

My family's flat is on the upper floor of a dirty, cracking two-storey building. Miss Vastra insists on scouting the building first, examining the surrounding streets, and asking me questions about other exits and the local alleys. It's sort of fun to see how she thinks, but it's just my flat, not the Tower of London. She'll want a map of the building soon.

Finally she says we're ready to go in.

"Does your key will still work?"

"No lock on the door," I reply, "Just a latch. Nothing really to steal. You'll see. And we watch out for each other."

I work the latch, sticky as always. It's everything I can do not to call out a greeting as I slip through the door, Miss Vastra close behind me. There's nobody alive to greet me this time.

Nobody I want to see, anyway.

It's been two months since I've been home. I just stand and stare at the room. Da's torn it apart in his fits of temper. I've never seen it this bad.

"Lord, look at the mess!. Ma would give him holy hell for this!"

He's been throwing things, I can see the dents in the walls; and holes where's he's punched the lathe and plaster. That's got to hurt, those walls are strong.

I start picking through the mess, looking for what's mine. It takes some time, but I find clothes, and my copybook from school. It's torn in two; Miss Vastra tells me to bring it anyway.

In a bit of good luck, I find Ma's sewing tin. Somehow Da hasn't touched it, and when I empty it out, there's a little bag of coins that Ma had kept from some sewing and washing she took in. Da was a damn fool; if he'd asked, I could have told him where the money was, and he'd not have sold me to the damn Scorpions.

Course, then he's have spent it on Gin, sold me a week later than what he did, and I'd not have some food money now.

I spot my slate under the bed, and my battered tin mug nearby. Looks like Da threw it at the walls a lot. As I grab it, Vastra turns to the door.

"Someone's in the hall," she whispers.

"Hey! Who's in there!" calls a boy's voice. Vastra's reaching for her sword, and I need to move quick.

"Tom?" I call back quietly, as I put a hand on Vastra's arm. She glances down at me then moves to the wall behind the door, but takes her hand off her sword.

"Jenny, that you?" Tom's head, with that black mop of hair of his, pokes in through the door. "Are you mad? What in hell are you doing here?"

"Language, Tom! Your Da will whip you if he catches you swearing like that." It's a running joke between us, we'd both swear like the dock workers, and Tom's Da and my Ma were always cross as hornets when we did it. "I came to get my clothes."

Tom shakes his head, "Yer daft! If yer Pa catches you, he'll beat you, then give you to the Scorpions. And they'll do worse! Rumour says the last scorpions who found you were killed by a demon with a sword! Even if it was just a man and they only took a beating, they want you bad, to prove it's not true."

"We're safe enough, Da's working..."

"Bloody Hell Jenny, your Pa's not been working fer the last few weeks! He got tossed out fer being drunk on the job, and taking a swing at the foreman when they docked his pay fer it. He's in and out of this place all the time."

"Worse, those damn foreigners are showing up here from time to time, looking fer him and fer you. The Irish lads are not happy 'bout it, they'll start a war soon."

Behind the door, Miss Vastra perked up. "A war?" Tom swung towards her, startled, then did stepped back with a gasp on seeing her wrapped in her cloak, with her face covered.

"Tom means a fight between the Irish gangs and the Black Scorpions. Bloody and deadly, but the police won't do much, 'less it gets out of hand."

"Your police forces sound extremely inept."

Tom blinked, "Wha..?"

"I think she means they're lazy." I supplied, as I spotted something in a corner of the floor, half covered by trash, and go to fetch it. It's the little staff I made for Johnny. It's just a stick, about a yard long and a bit over an inch thick. I used a knife to peel off the bark in rings and slanted stripes, and carved John's initial on it for him.

He'd loved the damn thing. They wouldn't let us bury it with him. Said it was an insult to God. Dumb bastards. But it's still here, and Da hasn't broken it, and it's coming with me.

"Yer crazy," says Tom, "and you've got to get out of here."

"And you are?" asks Vastra, looking very big and very frightening. Tom looks back at her, and his mouth just sort of hangs there again.

"This is my friend Tom. He lives next door. Our families always played together. Tom was Robin Hood!"

"Ah. Nice to meet you, Robin… I mean, Tom."

I quickly introduce Tom to Vastra, telling him that she helped me, but he's so surprised, I'm not sure if he heard much of what I said.

"Look," Tom finally says, "You can't stay here. It's not safe. At least keep a better watch out, I was right outside the door before you heard me."

"Can you watch the front stairs? Da almost always uses those."

"Sure, but the moment I call to you, he'll know you're here."

"Is your Da home?"

"No, Pa's out for a few more hours yet."

"Then just call for your Da. Mine might hear you, but he won't think it's strange. And if I I hear you, we'll get out of here right quick. And take the back stairs."

Tom starts to leave, but stops. "Hang on a moment." He gropes around in his pocket, and pulls something out and presses it into my hand. "Yer Pa gave this to me when Johnny died."

I open my hand, and saw a little pocket knife that Ma and Da had given John for Christmas the year before he died. It's a tiny thing. Da got it cheap 'cause one blade was broken in half. Tom's Da ground it down to a blunt point as a favour to make it a better blade. "I said you should have it," Tom goes on. "He wouldn't give it to you."

"He didn't think girls should have pocket knives. Just kitchen knives."

Tom snorted. "It would be a damn sight quieter around here if the girls had more pocket knives OR kitchen knives. The boys would leave 'em alone!"

"You just want yer Da to sell more knives."

"Damn right!" Tom said with a grin. "I'll go keep an eye out."

I could see that Miss Vastra was a bit confused at our joking around.

"His Da's a cutler." At her curious look, I explain, "You know, a person who makes knives and blades and stuff. Ma always said he's a good cutler but a poor business man. He had a shop but sold it to a merchant who paid him only part of what he promised him. Now he barely makes enough to pay the rent and keep the boys fed and clothed."

I start to make a bundle of my things, and add in some of Ma's clothing; an extra shawl and a scarf. She doesn't need it anymore. Surprised that Da didn't sell all this stuff to a rag-picker for gin money. I look around for Ma's old silver locket, just in case, but I haven't seen it in years. I search for a few minutes, and I'm almost done when I hear Tom calling for his Pa.

"My Da's here! Quick, come with me out the back. Tom will probably try to hold him up out front."

"Don't run when we get outside," says Miss Vastra. "If there is anyone out there, they'll notice you. Just walk at a steady pace."

We get down the stairs without trouble, and dodge against the wall by the stairs while I check the yard.

A moment later there's footsteps and the clank of a bucket behind us. Tom shuffles out the door, grumbling and carrying a pair of water buckets. He looks around quickly and spots us in the shadows.

"Your Pa's out front, with a bunch of Scorpions. None of them are happy, I think the Scorpions are mad at yer Pa, and yer Pa's angry at them. Lots of temper out there.

"Wonderful. Doubt we can stay back here either."

"I don't think they know yer here. Sounds like they're just being pests, throwing their weight around. But they seem to be poking their noses into everywhere. Hope they don't start a riot."

"We'd best be off, then." Says Miss Vastra. "Thank you for your help Ro…Tom.".

"Yer most welcome, Ma'am. Thank you fer helping Jenny. She's a good one."

He turns back to me and sighs. "Wish you were a boy, Jenny. Pa would apprentice so fast yer head would spin."

"Tom, your family's always a day's pay from being thrown out on the street yourselves. You can't afford another mouth to feed, and there's no room for me besides. We talked about that. Your family's too close to mine, the Scorpions would hurt you too if they thought you were hiding me!"

Tom looked back, checking the yard behind us, then grabbed my hands. Behind him, Miss Vastra hissed, and I shook my head quick to warn her off. Tom's often like this.

"Don't come back here," he said. "Not if you can help it. This place will kill you young. Girls... don't do well here. Yer clever. Don't want to see you working in the match factory, with a baby at sixteen, and dead before yer twenty-two. You could have a good life! You could be a lady's maid in a big house some day! Maybe even marry a doctor or a lawyer or a detective!" He drew a breath, "You know what this place is like, Jenny. Get out. Stay out."

Tom glances at the doorway. "I've got to go. If yer Pa looks out and sees me talking to you, the jig will be up right quick." He leans in and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. "Be safe. Please!"

And with that he's away, back into the building. And I'm standing in an alley way with an idiot look of surprise on my face.

"If I could interrupt the courting displays of young monkeys for a moment…." Miss Vastra starts.

"We're not courting, he's almost my brother!" I growl at her. She says nothing more, but her smirk says it all.

Going on about that at a time like this! Adults! No sense at all, sometimes!

Mind back on task here, Jenny my girl. We need to get away from here quick. I lead Miss Vastra down the alley towards the street. Just before the corner, we stop, and I drop to my knee, and peek around the corner carefully. People don't look much above or below their eye level, and us youngsters often could watch without being seen if we kept low.

I don't like what I see.

"Damn, there's Scorpions both ways. And Da's in front of the building!" I looked away from him, didn't want him to see my face and come after us. Miss Vastra looked over my head at him.

"Which one is your father?"

"The one who's not Chinese." Is she daft?

She glances down at me. Huh. Wonder if she can't tell them apart. That must be strange.

"The big one, ma'am! That's Da."

She looks back at him, down at me again, and back to him. "The Gorilla?" She asks, surprised. "You're so small, I assumed that your father was a little wisp of a human."

"No, ma'am. He's a right terror on the docks. Taught me to defend myself as well." Oh Da, you loved me as much as I loved you! Why'd you turn on me like you did, and sell me like something that fell off a wagon?

"They may be looking for you, but they are not looking for me," says Miss Vastra. "We'll take a lesson from bold Robin Hood. Give me the stick, and put your shawl on." She takes John's staff while I pull out the shawl and cover my head with it. She continues, "Listen carefully. I'm an elderly Ape, and you're helping me with my errands. We're going to walk right past them. Give me your left arm." I take my bundle in my right hand and offer the other to her. She gently grasps it, though she makes it look as if she's leaning on me for support, as if she really was a frail old woman. "Keep your head down, and your eyes on the ground, as if watching for things that might trip me. I will speak if it is necessary; you will not say a word, in case your father recognizes your voice. Walk very slowly, as if I'm lame. If I drop your arm, I'm going to draw my sword. Step back behind me if that happens."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Jenny, you need to be very brave. Do not hurry, or look at their faces, or speak. I'm right here, and I will protect you. They will not harm you as long as you do as I ask." She takes a breath. "Ready?"

I take a deep breath as well, and nod.

"Right. Come along, Jenny!"

And we're off.

We leave the shelter of the alley, step onto the broken cobblestones of the street, and turn towards Cheapside. We need to go right past the entrance. And Da.

Miss Vastra moves slowly, taking small unsteady looking steps. Me, I just keep my head down, and try not to panic. This is hard. I can hear the Scorpions chattering to each other in Chinese, and a lower murmur, like angry hornets, in the tones of the English and Irish costermongers who live nearby, and are watching. I almost need to giggle: those men usually fight like cats and dogs, but toss some real foreigners into the mix, and they're suddenly the best of pals. I swallow instead, there's nothing funny here. If they start brawling, there'll be blood in the street. I've seen it happen before.

We're suddenly right in the middle of the group. Miss Vastra keeps to her slow pace. There's a moment when we need to stop. One of the scorpions isn't moving and there's no room to go around.

I remind myself to breathe. Don't panic. Don't run. Be Brave.

"Excuse me," says Miss Vastra. Her voice quavers like an old granny's. The Scorpion snarls something at her in his language.

Suddenly there's a bellow right behind us. "You there!"

Gawd, that's Da's! Stay still!

"Damn you, get out of their way, you fools!" The Scorpions grumble, but move back.

"Sorry, Gran-ma. They're rude blighters oft-times." Da again. Sounding more like himself for a change. Still, if he's with them, it's not safe for me.

"Ye should keep better company, young man. But thank ye fer yer help." That's Miss Vastra, and now she does sound like one of the old souls 'round here. Lived long enough that they don't suffer fools lightly.

We move off again, painfully slow, and in time the voices of the Chinese and the English and the Irish blend together and fade. New voices replace them, and soon Miss Vastra straightens, steps to the side of the road, and looks back.

"I see no signs of pursuit. I believe our ruse has worked. Very well done, Jenny. That must have been very frightening for you."

"That was scary. But a lot of fun too. I can't believe you had us just walk right past them!" I'm babbling but I can't seem to stop. Miss Vastra lets me bounce around for a minute, letting go of my worry, then calls me to order.

"Time to go." We continue at a normal pace back to her room. As we walk, she continues, "I'm sorry, but I don't think it would be wise for you to return to that area of the city. Between your father, the scorpions and the locals, it's a rather explosive mix."

"But that's my home. My friends are there."

"I understand. However, if you return, and any of those groups gets ahold of you, the area will explode. Something else is going on, there was a great deal of anger in that street."

"Blazes. That means I can't even go to a workhouse. Has to be in my own parish, that's why I avoided it before. Too easy to find me."

"Why would you go anywhere? We have not yet resolved your problem with the Scorpions, therefore you are still staying with me. How else can I protect you?"

I stop and look at her, surprised.

"Your friend would not forgive me if I allowed you to come to harm. He knows you're safe for now, he came out of the building just as we passed. So he saw us leave."

"Well, that's good. I know he wants to help me."

"That hatchling... doesn't understand yet exactly what he wants. But he does want you to be safe."

"There's no such thing as 'safe' though, is there ma'am?"

"Well, perhaps not. But there are those who strive to protect others. To help others be safer than they would be without them."

"Like the soldiers and the police?"

"Yes, sometimes. And sometimes, there are other heroes. Like my friend the Doctor. Like your friend Robin Hood," she says with a little smile.

She must mean the real Robin. She can't mean Tom. Tom's like me.

We're not heroes.

And then I remember Tom keeping watch, and warning us that my Da was near. Making sure we got out safe. Not giving us away when we walked past him in disguise.

Guess he is a hero.

And I remember the feeling of a blade in my hand, and an exacting voice guiding me through lessons and a raid, past scorpions and danger, and towards a new path.

I'm not a hero. Not yet.

But maybe someday.

END

Author's notes:

Vastra's sword in this story is a Royal Navy Cutlass. It's probably best if we don't enquire too closely about how she 'found' it. Jenny's 'Scorpion' knife is based on a Confederate 'Bowie knife' from South Carolina. I've posted pictures of both on my Tumblr site. The Japanese blades from "A Good Man Goes to War" will show up later in the series, but Vastra can't afford hers yet and Jenny's sword … well, that's a story for another day.

Vastra's books are 'Agnes Grey' (1847), by Anne Bronte (the youngest Bronte sister), 'Paul Clifford' (1830) by Edward Bulwer-Lytton, and 'The Moonstone' (1868) by Wilkie Collins, which is often credited as one of the first detective novels. All are in the public domain, and are available on-line in various formats (they also have summaries on Wikipedia.)

Most people have heard of Robin Hood, Little John, and Friar Tuck. Will Scarlet is recognized as the best swordsman of the Merry Men, and he appears in the oldest legends.

Next up, 'The Adventures of the Masked Lady.' Based on notes in the 'Brilliant Book 2012': Vastra and Jenny didn't always solve crimes.: on occasion they committed them….