History Keepers 1: The Storm Begins (11 page)

Jake suddenly yearned to sail on that ship – to join the others on their expedition and help to find his parents.

I’ll go back and talk to Galliana,’ he told himself. ‘She’ll understand how important this is. I’ve already lost my brother – how can they expect me to lose my parents as well
?

He shook his head as he remembered the em barrassed looks when he had suggested he should go too. He understood those looks: he knew absolutely nothing about the History Keepers and
what
they did. And yet he longed to go – perhaps even his brother might still be alive.

Then a notion took shape in Jake’s head: ‘I could stow away,’ he whispered to himself. ‘I just have to hide until we’re far out to sea. They won’t waste time bringing me back. I could persuade them to give me atomium and take me along.’

Jake hated the idea of tricking people, but the alternative was worse. He hurriedly put his parents’ passports in the inside pocket of his blazer. At the doorway he stopped to pick up his school bag. He put it on the bed and took out one of his books: the volume of history that Jupitus had sneered at. Jake flicked through its pages, its illustrations of moments in history. He had always wondered what it would be like to live in the world of those illustrations. He threw the book down and ran, leaving his bag on the bed.

He navigated his way down the labyrinth of corridors and staircases, occasionally doubling back on himself when he went wrong, until at last he came to the armoury. He hurried across the room and down the main staircase. Once again, the inscrutable eyes of Sejanus Poppoloe, the History Keepers’ long-dead founder, watched him as he
passed
. He opened the huge studded doors and stepped out onto the quayside.

Luckily, there was not a soul in sight: the
Campana
was now deserted. His heart beat at a rapid speed as he tiptoed towards it. He was about to step onto the gangplank when he heard a booming voice from above.

‘Settling in all right?’ Nathan asked as he emerged on deck, doing up the buttons of his tunic.

Jake did a double take: Nathan was now dressed in an entirely different outfit. He wore a tightly fitting jacket of dark navy suede, matching breeches and a pair of beautifully soft, worn boots. A glinting sword hung at his hip and a scarf was tied pirate-like around his head.

‘Settling in fine,’ Jake replied. ‘That’s what you’re wearing for the voyage?’

‘Italian fashion of the early 1500s is a very complicated animal’ – Nathan fitted a tiny diamond stud into his ear – ‘but I think I’ve hit the right balance, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Very authentic,’ Jake agreed – though he hadn’t the faintest idea what balance Nathan was talking about. ‘And this is the ship you’re taking to Venice?’ he asked quickly to prevent the
other
boy from asking what he was doing here.

‘She may not look like much, but this one’s a survivor.’ Nathan slapped the mast heartily. ‘Rumour has it that Christopher Columbus taught himself how to sail on this very vessel.’ He leaped down onto the quay. ‘I have to collect the rest of my wardrobe. The secret of always looking great is simple: have options!’ And he strode back into the castle.

Once he was out of sight, Jake took a deep breath and, pretending he was merely inspecting the ship, ascended the gangplank and stepped down onto the deck. In case anyone was watching, he made a show of examining the sails, the mast and the steering wheel, before taking one last furtive look around and disappearing down the steep, crooked staircase that led below.

Once out of sight, he immediately started searching for a hiding place. There was a tiny galley; the dining area had two doors – one leading to a neat cabin in the bows, where Topaz’s single suitcase had been installed; the other to a messy cabin in the stern, containing a bunk bed and a huge mountain of Nathan’s trunks.

Up on deck Jake heard a thud – more luggage
was
being loaded; then Nathan’s voice: ‘That’s the last of it. Leave it all in the cabin. I’ll unpack it myself. Careful – that tunic belonged to Charlemagne!’ The voice receded again. A moment later there was the clatter of footsteps down the stairs, then a cry as one of the sailors dropped a piece of luggage, followed by a mutter: ‘Lucky his majesty wasn’t here to see that.’

Jake quickly hid behind the door as they lugged the last of Nathan’s heavy cases into the cabin.

‘What does he need all this for?’ one of them asked. ‘He’s all of twelve.’

They went back upstairs and Jake heard them disembark.

‘This is ridiculous, I can’t do it,’ he said out loud as he emerged from Nathan’s cabin. He went back up the stairs, then stopped, turned and came down again. He took his parents’ passports out of his pocket and studied their pictures.

‘What if they don’t care enough about saving my family …?’ he said to himself – and once again his mind was made up. Just then, he noticed the hatch set into the floor. He opened it and saw a ladder leading down into the dark hull of the ship.

Like the
Escape
, this one had been converted to
steam
: an engine resembling a large Aga range was discernible in the gloom. Amongst the piles of wood and crates of food there were shadowy places to hide, and Jake carefully descended the ladder and closed the hatch behind him. He felt his way through the blackness to the bow and settled down amongst a pile of boxes.

He realized he was still wearing his ‘charmless’ school uniform, and couldn’t help feeling a twinge of regret at missing his appointment with Signor Gondolfino. He longed more than ever to belong to this more magical and elegant time.

Within a few minutes Jake heard the muffled voices of people assembling on the quay. Then the ship rocked as the crew climbed aboard. Nathan was giving some kind of impromptu speech, using phrases like ‘for glory’ and ‘for the good of mankind’. Then Topaz issued the order to set sail, a cry went up and the ship lurched as she was untied from her mooring.

Jake was suddenly gripped with panic: he
must
make his presence known.

But he didn’t move.

Even though it was pitch-black, he closed his eyes and thought of his parents, trapped in a dungeon,
starving
, awaiting their torturer. He thought of his brother, Philip – how he would ruffle Jake’s hair when he was feeling down. On a wet camping holiday in the New Forest, Philip had once stayed up all night to protect Jake from the killer his little brother imagined lurking in the woods. Older brothers weren’t usually so kind, but Philip wasn’t like anyone else’s older brother.

As the ship moved away from the pier, Jake felt his stomach turn over, and he was sure he heard his aunt say, ‘Where on earth is Jake? I suppose he must have dropped off …’

An hour later Jake was feeling very cramped and more than a little seasick. In the dining area upstairs he could hear the muffled voices of Nathan, Topaz and Charlie Chieverley. Someone was cooking, and tempting smells were wafting down, making Jake’s stomach rumble.

He had pins and needles down one leg, so he carefully shifted to a more comfortable position. When he saw the two tiny yellow eyes staring at him from the blackness, he shrieked out loud, shot back and knocked over a pile of boxes. Panting with fear, he gazed around, scanning the darkness. The eyes
flashed
again, and a rat scurried across the space into the shadows.

‘Rats! I hate rats!’ he found himself cursing.

Jake realized that the voices had stopped. A moment later the hatch creaked open, and in a flash Nathan was at the foot of the ladder, his drawn sword in front of him.

‘Identify yourself or die!’ he commanded in a deep, menacing voice.

Jake picked himself up and put his hands in the air.

‘What the hell were you thinking?’ Nathan demanded, banging his fist on the table.

Jake was standing uneasily in the dining area, facing three sets of unsmiling eyes (four, counting Mr Drake’s). Like Nathan, Topaz and Charlie had changed into sixteenth-century clothes. Topaz looked beautiful in a creamy silk gown with a square neck and trumpet-shaped sleeves. Charlie, who managed to appear like a young scientist whatever he put on, wore a doublet and hose in small red check, along with a felt cap that had a feather in it.

‘Do you think this is some kind of game?’ Nathan continued. ‘We are on a mission. There are
lives
at stake. Not just lives – civilizations!’ he added dramatically.

‘I was just—’

‘You were just
what
?’

This was a very different Nathan to the playful joker Jake had met on his arrival.

‘I just wanted to find my parents.’

‘It’s not your job. We have to take him back,’ Nathan decided emphatically.

‘
Ce n’est pas possible
. We’re just twenty leagues from the horizon point.’ Topaz gestured towards the Constantor hanging over the dining table. ‘We’ll lose a day.’

‘Can’t be helped. He’ll jeopardize everything. Turn her round, Charlie.’

‘Topaz is right. We’ll lose a whole day,’ Charlie said before slipping back to the stove, where he had three separate pans on the go. With a professional flick, he tossed some large field mushrooms.

Again Nathan struck the table in annoyance. ‘Well, he can’t travel the distance. A first-timer? This isn’t a pleasant stroll to 1805. It’s three hundred and fourteen years. If he detonates, we’re all doomed.’

Jake looked up at Nathan in horror. Did he really just hear the word ‘detonate’?

‘Besides which – look at him,’ Nathan continued. ‘He’s wearing school uniform. Think he might stick out a little.’

‘Oh, really. You have enough clothes and accessories for an army in your cabin,’ Topaz pointed out.

But Nathan was resolute. ‘We put him out on the rowing boat – he finds his own way back.’

‘Don’t be absurd!’ said Topaz. ‘How will he make it alone?’

‘Not our problem.’

‘He’s a diamond, Nathan. Grade one, according to Jupitus Cole. He’ll survive. Anyway, as group leader, it’s my decision.’ Topaz turned to Jake. ‘You can stay. But when we arrive in Venice, you remain in the background. Understand?’

Jake nodded. He looked at them all seriously. ‘I’m sorry I came on board. I made a mistake. But now I promise to do anything I can to help.’

Topaz’s face softened a little.

Nathan shrugged and slumped back in his seat. ‘Grade one, huh?’ he muttered to himself. ‘Who would have thought …?’

‘What exactly does it mean … to “detonate”?’ Jake wondered.

‘If your body isn’t prepared for high levels of atomium – which can take some practice,’ said Charlie, turning away from the stove, ‘you can stall in the time flux: your atoms split into millions of particles, making you explode like a hydrogen bomb, and taking us all down with you.’ He took a dish out of the oven and tested its contents. ‘This courgette soufflé is perfection. I may have surpassed myself.’

Though Jake now had no appetite, the dinner that Charlie had ‘rustled up’ would have won him an award in any top London restaurant. It included cherry tomato tartine, stuffed miniature peppers with marinated mushrooms à la Grecque and framboise torte with chantilly. Charlie, it transpired, had learned to cook in Napoleon’s kitchen in Paris, but the experience had left him a firm vegetarian.

After the plates had been cleared away, Topaz placed a veneered box on the table. There was utter silence. She opened it and took out a vial of atomium and a Horizon Cup. For the last half-hour Jake had been imagining his detonation. He wondered how gorily explosive it would be.

The atomium was once again repulsive – like the liquid that seeps from old batteries, Jake imagined –
and
its effect was quicker and more alarming than the first time. The moment Jake took it, he nodded unsteadily and passed out. He was woken up by Charlie jabbing a finger into his chest.

‘Wake up. You mustn’t sleep. Wake up.’

Jake tried to focus on the jumble of faces above him. He was slumped over the dining table.

‘Wake up! It’s dangerous to sleep.’

‘Are we there? Venice?’ Jake asked, drifting off again.

Nathan nodded at Charlie, who filled a glass with cold water and tossed it into Jake’s face. He woke with a sharp intake of breath.

‘I don’t want to explode.’

After two minutes he collapsed again. It carried on like this for half an hour – until Topaz shouted down from the deck, ‘Five minutes to horizon!’

Jake’s state suddenly altered completely. A jolt of electricity threw him up out of his seat. ‘We’re flying!’ he shouted – and started dancing around the cabin in what looked like an Irish jig.

Nathan was embarrassed, and Mr Drake squawked excitedly.

‘I need to speak to Topaz!’ Jake announced as he swept up the stairs onto the deck.

She gasped as he took her in his arms like some romantic movie hero, then laughed in confusion. Charlie appeared on deck, also shaking his head in amused bewilderment. Jake was about to kiss Topaz when the Constantor clicked into alignment and he seemed to shoot into the air like a bullet.

His alter ego – or whatever it was – hurtled to the edge of Earth’s atmosphere where the blue turns to dark space. From here, Jake could see the ocean curving, the continent of Europe; France, Spain, the boot of Italy. Britain lay under a cloud of mist, just like the map on TV weather forecasts. He spun round, hurtling back towards the sea, and saw himself on the deck of the
Campana
, holding onto Topaz. Then he collapsed on the wooden boards, shaking and laughing.

Charlie looked at his wristwatch, tapped it with his fingers and smiled. ‘We made it: 1506, July the fifteenth.’

Jake noticed a number of things at once. It was now dark and very hot; the ocean was as flat as a pancake and the sky shimmered with millions of stars. But his head throbbed as never before in his life and he felt he would rather die than look Topaz in the eye. He took off his blazer and carefully
sat
down facing the stern and the retreating sea.

It was the dead of night and everyone was fast asleep on the Mont St Michel. The occasional flickering taper was all that moved in the silent corridors and staircases. Outside, amongst the dark granite towers and turrets, the seabirds were quiet in their nests.