Chapter One:  The Caravan Prepares.

* * *

Little Ian had an amazing set of lungs with which to punish the world at large when he felt the world had somehow punished him.  This time his punishment had come in the form of a respectable scratch from a cat; and well-deserved it was, so Daisy informed him as she cleaned it (with a small bowl of water tepid from the kettle), for having tried to hold that calico cat too tightly.

“She’s not being mean, love, she’s just letting you know that cats need to be treated with respect.  She has work to be getting on with, as do we all, and little ones of her own to feed.”

Daisy was barely more than a little one herself, and had needed to pull a chair over the the stove to even reach the kettle, but, though she was his youngest aunt, she was by far the most patient.  Ian’s mother and Daisy’s other sister, as well as Daisy’s mother, were sewing an order of petticoats which they needed to get done, so, although Daisy was very tired of keeping him in line, she didn’t ignore him.

Her brother, Tom, who had been organizing his things in preparation for leaving the following morning to work Master Brackenstall’s caravan to Abernetty, found himself moved to compassion for the small girl.  He was fairly sure he had not been as patient when it had been he who was expected to keep the little one — Daisy herself, at that time — from running and shrieking while mother worked.

He thought he had organized and double-checked and pruned and honed his kit about as much as could be expected, and regardless he was bound to forget something which was vital, so perhaps he ought to leave it and go see how the shoeing of the mules and horses was getting on.

“Mum,” he called into the sitting room, “Would you like me to take Daisy and Ian down to Johnston’s with me?”

She looked up from her sewing and smiled.

“You are a dear one.  Thank you, Tom.  We do have so much work to get through if these — " she nodded to the crate they were filling with folded petticoats, “are to go with the caravan, tomorrow.”

Ettie thanked him, too, saying she was sure he was her son’s favourite uncle and he’d be missed while he was gone.  Tom grunted uncomfortably and turned slightly pink; he never knew how to take praise, and his freckled complexion always showed his discomfort to the world immediately.  He thought such a small child could not have made such a choice, and that if he were so preferred he was not sure he deserved to be.  He was excited at the thought of getting away from his family for the months of the summer, and felt a little guilty for being glad to be away, so he was going out of his way to be exceptionally pleasant for the last few days.  It was obvious how important this order was, as his sisters and mother had worked through most of Landing Day.  This was a most important holiday to everyone in Victoria Colony, marking the time of year one might expect that the back of the winter had been broken, and generally celebrated with a cold feast prepared the night before.  The family had gathered, told stories and sung together, but during that day the needles had only only paused for moments during which the women nibbled at the food which they had stayed up half the night preparing.

Daisy was delighted to get out of the flat, and chattered on endlessly while she dressed Ian in the little coat which Tom thought had probably belonged to each of them in turn.  Little coats never seemed to wear out, as the children outgrew them first.  Daisy’s own coat was a little large as yet, though she would grow into it.  They were doing very well compared to many families in the Sandwell Corner part of Victoria City; they even had separate bedrooms for the boys and the girls, although there had been a short while that Tom and Bill had ended up sleeping in the dining room when Ettie had first married Robert, before the newly-weds had found rooms of their own.

When the City had first been commissioned certain of the Investors in the Colony had been of a progressive mind and argued that they could with very little extra cost provide the working men’s families with habitations larger by far than they had ever seen before.  ’Let them see that they have already bettered themselves and they will work all the harder’, these self-made Lords had said, and had carried the point against those few of their Peers who had protested that such treatment would only encourage thoughts above such persons’ proper station.  Indeed, this wisdom had been borne out, the large and empty rooms that had at first so awed the workers quickly filling with children and ensuring the enlargement and success of the Colonial venture.

Tom carried little Ian down the staircase, watching his footing carefully in the poor lighting, and only half listening to Daisy chattering along behind.  She was apparently already feeling much bucked up at the thought of going to visit their brother, Joe, who was apprenticed to the farrier.  She played her game of naming off all the cooking smells she could identify on her way down the stairs, trying to guess what each of the neighbour families were having for their meals, a habit Tom found amusing knowing that he was soon to not hear her chatter for weeks on end.

A fine mist dropped from a leaden sky into the narrow cobbled streets, gently soaking anyone who was out for long, though most of the inhabitants ignored the wet.  The sun had barely shown its face for most of a month — typical of early spring — and the lack of actual downpour was enough to call it fine.

“Oh, it’s cold!”  Daisy exclaimed.  “How do you stand it?”  She shrugged deeper into her too-large jacket.

“I’ve been trying to dress lightly all winter,” Tom replied.  “The older men on the caravan last year said it would help me to be prepared for the cold in the mountain passes.  The snow has just melted enough so that we can get the carts through.  Last spring there were places we had to dig and push the carts through because it wasn’t fully melted, yet.  And we’re going South, where it’s colder, or at least it’s supposed to be.  When we at last came down from the mountains I was happy enough, last year!  It seemed quite warm to me!”

Tom had been quite unready for the cold of the mountain passes the year before, and his blankets were inadequate.  He had shivered badly in the nights until one of the other men had noticed his exhaustion and found an extra blanket for him.  He had caught a sore throat and a slight fever, but rallied soon enough.

“Are you cold, Ian?”  Daisy asked the little boy.

Ian, like most small children, did not seem to notice the cold.  He was distracted by looking at the other people on the street — women on their way home from the marketing and children at play or running errands.

“We’ll be inside soon,” she continued, “And it will be warm, and we’ll see Uncle Joe.  Won’t that be nice?”

Joe was only a little over a year older than Tom, (though most people guessed the opposite on seeing them together, as Joe was the shorter of the two from an early age) and they had been bitter rivals when they were young, but after Joe had been apprenticed to the farrier and had gone to live in Johnston’s household he had been glad to see Tom visit and the two brothers had become much better friends.  Tom had formed a habit of showing up at Johnston’s and occasionally earning a little money by helping out with the animals while they were being shod.  He had the same ability Joe did of judging a mule’s mood and being able to calm it or intercept its fit of temper, and the caravan master, Brackenstall, had hired him for this talent which he had observed, as well as a strong back and willingness to work.

Within just a few streets and turns they had left the neighbourhood of narrow streets and courtyards with laundry lines stretched overhead, where Tom was at home.  Now they were among businesses; shop fronts were on the ground level and Tom had a vague idea that there were perhaps offices above those, though he could not imagine what those might be used for.  Very shortly they emerged onto Mercantile Square.  Johnston’s Farriers was one of the oldest buildings on the Square, sitting a little back, with a big, fenced yard which was now crowded with the horses and mules of the caravan.  The day would be given over to checking the shoes of every beast, setting any loose nails and replacing shoes which were worn, so that their hooves would be best prepared for the long trek ahead of them.

A large, grizzled older man turned in at the gate just ahead of Tom and the children.  He looked around, then caught sight of Tom and waved him over.

“Boy!  Which is Mr. Brackenstall, the caravan master?  I was told he would be here, and I have business with him.”

Tom peered through the milling mass of animals.  “He will be with Mr. Johnston, who is the master farrier, most likely.  They are nearly of a size, not too tall, but broad.  Mr. Johnston is very dark brown, has quite curly hair and a beard, and Mr. Brackenstall has straighter hair and sort of redder complexion.”

“Good lad.”  With that he moved off with a slightly rolling gait, accentuated by his long frame, toward where Brackenstall was leading a horse into the barn-like building, and they both entered into the gloom.

Tom and the children followed after and he found a good spot, out of the way of work, for them to perch and watch the shoeing.  He himself went and smoothed the neck of the horse whose hooves Joe was working on.  The stranger who had accosted Tom was haggling with Brackenstall half-heartedly — Tom guessed more from habit than need.  It seemed that the man was offering to bring a couple of armed men, with their own carriage and weapons, so Tom wasn’t sure why anything needed to be charged at all, but he realized he was not at all up on the business of how to run a caravan.

Shortly Brackenstall excused himself to go back to his warehouse and see to the packing of the trade goods the caravan would be carrying as well as the victuals for the men.

“You can appreciate that there are a hundred details to be overseen before embarking on such a journey, I’m sure!” and the other agreed that he would not want any labour stinted.  The two broke off their congress with a handshake.

“Who was he?”  Tom asked Joe, when both of the older men had left.

Joe did not glance up from the shoe he was hammering.

“Works for Lord Phipps, I gather.  Seems His Lordship has decided to send his son to a new school in Abernetty.”

“Have I heard of Phipps?  Who is he?”

“He holds Clareheath.  I think it’s to the North-East of town, beyond Timonburn and Karistead.”  Joe replied, shrugging.

“The investor’s name was Clare?”

“Clarence, I believe.  Father of the current Lord Phipps.”

This told Tom all he cared to know at the moment, for, like most boys, he had little interest in the gentry.  All of the gentry were descended from the original investors who had bought Victoria Colony, and very few holdings had yet passed into the hands of distaff descendants, so Phipps could be assumed to be the family name as well as the titled name.  He could guess that, although Clarence Phipps was one of the original investors, he could not have been one of the biggest contributors, as Tom was fairly certain that Clareheath was not one of the holdings just outside of Victoria City.

As each animal was finished Brackenstall’s men took it away and brought another in.  Daisy ran back and forth devising small games of ‘helping’ to amuse Ian, and the steady stream of animals kept everyone busy and kept Tom’s mind off of how nervous he was about leaving on the morrow.

When work ceased for lunch Master Johnston invited Tom and the children to stay and have a dish of the stew which his housekeeper had set out on the long table in the corner of the forge.  They all washed their hands under the ice-cold water from the hand-pump in the middle of the yard, and ate with a well-earned appetite.  After they cleared their bowls away Joe disappeared for a few moments, and returned with a small package wrapped in brown paper.

As the wrapping fell away, Tom had to ask, “What is it?”

“You pull, like this,” said Joe, reaching to demonstrate.

The little cylinder telescoped out to reveal a glass tube.

“You unscrew the bottom — go ahead.  Carefully, don’t drop the spring.  You put your candle on top of the spring, so that it keeps it pushed up.”

It was a clever little candle-lanthorn, which Tom could see the usefulness of immediately.  The little glass chimney kept the candle from blowing out, and when it was telescoped closed the glass chimney was well protected.  Tom found he had to blink back the stinging in his eyes, and he threw his arms around his brother’s neck.

Joe patted his back and told him he would do their family proud, and when they parted they then had to console the children, who had thrown their arms around Joe and Tom’s legs and were wailing, though Ian probably had no idea what he was wailing about.

“Here, now, what has got into you, my big girl?”  Tom asked, trying to be gentle and jovial.

“Oh, you’re going away!” said Daisy.  “You’re really going away!”

“I have told you that.”

“I know, but I- I kept forgetting.”

“I went last summer.  And the money I earned got you a slate for school, and a primer.”

“But...  I missed you so much.  It was just horrid without you!  Besides, you taught me more this winter about reading than that awful old Miss Baggage.”

“It’s Miss Babbage, and don’t be ungrateful,” Tom chastised her, though he couldn’t help smiling at the way Daisy huffed, as only a young girl can.

That night, curled in his bed, he wondered if he should quit Brackenstall’s caravan and see if he could find a job in the city.  He should not leave Brackenstall short a hand on the morning of leaving, though.  And, as strange as the hills and forests, empty of people, were to him, raised in the city, he was looking forward to seeing them again.  And also, little as he wanted to admit it, being away from his family would feel good.

It took him a long time to sleep.

* * * * * * * * * * * *