Julius and the Watchmaker (18 page)

Footsteps—steel caps on the hard cobbles—echoed off the sides of the alley. Julius pressed himself further into the darkness, holding his rope-burned hands across his chest. Black-clad figures passed by, talking quietly as they went. Julius recognised their Grackack accent.
Oh, Higgins. What are you going to do?
A wave of nausea rose up in him, and he held his breath to stifle it.

An airship rumbled across in the thin slice of sky above. Blinding lights hung from it like eyes peering down on the city. Julius pulled himself onto his aching feet and limped further into the alleyway, the humming of the airship's engines masking the sound of his footsteps.

By the time dawn came, Julius had climbed into a small walled backyard. He did not want to be out on the streets when the Grackacks emerged from their houses for the day. He searched for something edible among the rubbish strewn and piled up around the yard. Hunger was stealing his sanity; he now knew how wolves felt after days of unsuccessful hunting.

A sound from inside the house stopped him in mid movement. He sniffed the air. Then, another sound—hasty footsteps. Julius looked around and saw a coal hole in the corner of the yard—a square brick structure with a slab of rotting wood for a lid and a hole at the bottom where the coal flowed out. As quick as a grass lizard, he flung himself at the coal hole. He tried to edge himself inside but there was too much coal in the way.

More footsteps came from the house and the sound of a key turning in a lock. Julius scrambled up, lifted the lid and jumped inside. A door opened with a creak and Grackack voices called out angrily.

Julius held his breath. He crouched on top of the coal heap, the coal dust burning like acid into the raw skin of his palms. Footsteps came across the yard towards him. Julius tensed, waiting for the lid to be thrown open. Instead, a shovel was thrust into the coal spilling out of the hole. Julius braced himself as the shovel was removed, and he heard the clang of the coal being dropped into a tin bucket. The shovel came again, and the coal heap avalanched as the second load was removed, sending Julius tumbling to the bottom. Luckily the Grackack had what he, or she, needed and the footsteps returned to the house, leaving Julius wedged upside down at the base of the coal heap.

Julius hid there all day. Horrific dreams filled his mind whenever he collapsed into sleep. When night fell again, hunger, like a demon with a hot poker, drove Julius out. He shivered in the cold and looked up at the starry sky.
They have the same stars as we do, Higgins.

He saw candlelight in a window. The muffled murmur of conversation calmed him a little. He moved silently, like a cat, among the debris, stepping onto what looked like an old fruit crate and placing his fingers on the sill. He steadied his nerves and pulled himself up to peep inside.

A Grackack family was sitting down to eat. The mother, he guessed, was stirring a pot on the small stove. Around the table was the father, a son and daughter and a baby in a highchair. They were much the same as the previous Grackacks he had seen. Pale skin, red eyes, rows of sharp teeth and long, thin fingers. The mother's and daughter's hair was inky black—the mother's was tied in a bun and the daughter's loose about her shoulders. The father and son each had a shock of black hair and the baby was bald but its teeth were already beginning to form and it was using them to good effect on the wooden spoon it was holding. Julius imagined that they were in conversation, but now that he was closer, they sounded more like a pack of dogs in dispute.

When the Grackack mother hefted the pot onto the table Julius found himself drooling uncontrollably. Thick, lumpy soup was ladled into the waiting bowls while the father cut the bread and handed the slices out to his eager family. Julius was delirious with starvation as he watched the family eating, or rather slurping, splattering and belching their way through supper, too hungry to notice their appalling table manners. Then the crate he was standing on creaked. Julius held his breath. It creaked again. He could feel the wooden struts splitting beneath his feet.
This isn't happening, Higgins.

The struts gave way. Julius fell through them with a crash that was just a little too loud. The kitchen fell silent. Julius listened.
Cripes. Bloody hellfire.
A chair scraped along the floorboards and someone called out. Julius stood still. His feet were trapped in the crate. A heated conversation erupted in the kitchen. Julius scrambled to free himself but the splintered wood held him. He fell backwards just as the kitchen door flew open.

The Grackack father stood in the doorway with a poker in his hand. But his face turned from anger to surprise when he saw the blackened, goblin-like figure of Julius cowering in a fruit crate.

‘Oh, bloody hell,' said Julius.

Then he fainted.

Delicious aromas wafted into Julius's nostrils and wild animals snarled and growled into his ears. In his dream he was sitting on the edge of a huge bowl of steaming soup. He was just about to dive in when someone poked him in the chest. Julius opened his eyes. Five astonished Grackack faces stared at him in the dimly lit kitchen. The father Grackack still held the poker. The mother Grackack held the soup ladle cocked for action. The baby was smiling and waving its wooden spoon around and the two other children stared open-mouthed at the hobgoblin at their table.

Unable to stop himself, Julius lunged for a slice of bread and tried to force the whole thing into his mouth at once. The Grackacks jumped back and started to argue among themselves. After swallowing a few chunks of the mouth-wateringly delicious bread, Julius spooned some soup into his mouth. His brain was beginning to function once more.
What were the words for ‘be calm', Higgins? Think. Think.

The father Grackack gestured and growled at Julius, who was still shovelling the soup into his mouth. Julius tried to smile graciously and grunt between mouthfuls, but this seemed to unnerve the Grackacks even more.

Realising that they were probably more afraid of him than he was of them at that particular moment, Julius grasped his opportunity. He raised his arms above his head and roared as he got to his feet. The Grackack family retreated in one swift movement, except for the baby, who gurgled with delight and threw its spoon in the air. Julius grabbed what remained of the loaf of bread and ran down the hall for what he hoped was the front door. He collided with it in the darkness and fumbled for the handle. Pandemonium broke out in the kitchen. Julius opened the door and ran outside as the father and son charged down the hall with weapons raised.

Outside, streetlamps hung from poles along the footpath, casting a ghostly orange-yellow glow on the cobbles. Desperately, Julius looked for somewhere to hide. His legs were about to give way from the sudden exertion. The Grackacks were behind him and their shouts brought more Grackacks to their doors. In a matter of seconds the street was full of them, all waving kitchen implements and shouting at Julius and at one another. Julius held onto the loaf of bread, which was now covered in coal dust.

‘Chaar kaar grach,' called out a Grackack, as it grabbed Julius's collar.

‘Naach a daak aarg,' said another, as it grabbed Julius's wrist and waved what looked like a cheese grater in front of his face.

‘Ka cha. Ka cha,' shouted Julius, remembering at last the Grackack words for ‘be calm', as he squirmed and wriggled and shook coal dust everywhere.

Soon he was surrounded by a wall of Grackack faces. Then a couple of official-looking Grackacks parted the crowd and stared down at Julius. They wore tall black hats with narrow rims. Each had an emblem embroidered in gold thread on his left breast pocket. Julius studied the crest carefully as the two Grackacks leaned down to take a better look at him. It was an emblem of a claw with a scrawl below it, which Julius took to be Grackack writing.

Seconds later, the two official Grackacks were frog-marching Julius down the street. No one mentioned the bread so Julius held onto it and ate it as he went.

They soon arrived at a large dark stone building, and Julius craned his neck to look up its black spires. They were like daggers sticking up into the night sky. Inside, he was pulled up in front of a high wooden desk where another official-looking Grackack sat. Julius looked at the claw carved into the wooden panel facing him while the Grackacks shouted and gesticulated at one another. The seated Grackack leaned forward and balanced his spectacles on his nose to inspect the goblin.

‘Gurh argh?' said the Grackack.

‘Julius Caesar Higgins, sir,' replied Julius, assuming that the first thing the authorities would want to know would be his name.

‘Aaard hagg negh?'

‘Ironmonger Lane, Cheapside, sir. Higgins' Booksellers, sir,' he said assuming that the second thing would be his address, not that it would be much use to them, or to him anymore.

Julius's replies did not seem to satisfy the Grackack, who did not write anything down. He appeared to be confused and angry at the same time, each emotion nourishing the other.

‘Beeck arr drik aardh,' he said to Julius's captors.

Julius guessed that the Grackack had said ‘turn out his pockets', because that is what they did. Amid a cloud of coal dust, out came the sovereigns, the two five pound notes and Shelley's pocketwatch. The Grackack examined the finds as he muttered to himself and scribbled something with a very scratchy nib. At his word of command the other two lifted Julius up by the scruff of the neck so that he was now level with the top of the desk. The seated Grackack pushed Julius's possessions to one side and spun a very large ledger around. He pointed to an X he had just inscribed, then thrust a quill into Julius's coal-stained and trembling hand.

‘Dwar aak?' commanded the Grackack, stabbing the still moist X with his long pale finger.

Julius did his best to inscribe his name in neat copperplate, to make a good impression, but his hand was trembling too much and the nib was too scratchy for the result to be of any credit to him.

‘Sorry, sir,' he said, as he tried to brush the coal dust from the ledger, which only made it worse.

Julius looked at the pocketwatch lying only an arm's length away. It could have been in darkest Borneo for all the good it was to him now. The seated Grackack spun the ledger around and examined Julius's signature through his spectacles.

‘Ardrech arh gech?' he said, as lines of frustration furrowed his face.

‘Sorry, sir. You see, I can't write in Grackack…It says “Master Julius Higgins”,' said Julius, as ingratiatingly as he could, before the two Grackacks holding him let go, and he fell in a heap on the floor.

‘Goor nech aa chraach,' said the seated Grackack.

Julius was manhandled down a deep stairway.

Oh, blooming dead rats. What now?

At the bottom was a long, dark corridor with damp walls. Small candles burned in alcoves along its length. Anguished cries and moans lingered in the air.

Julius was dragged into the darkness and thrown into a tiny cell containing nothing but a steel bed frame and a bucket.

CHAPTER 17

Monday 10th July, 1837
5:42 AM

Julius woke up when a bolt was drawn and the cell door opened to the sound of grinding, unoiled hinges. His cell had been so dark he needed to shade his eyes from the brightness of the candle in the Grackack's hand.

‘Cho graask,' said the Grackack.

‘Good morning,' said Julius, as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Two other Grackacks came to the doorway and talked in whispers while Julius pulled his boots on. His body ached from sleeping on the mattressless bed.

‘Djaak nagaash ghaa,' said the Grackack, holding a large iron ring of keys.

The next thing Julius knew he was being marched along another corridor.

Is it morning, Higgins? That would mean you got a few hours kip.

They came to a door with a brass plate and the same claw emblem on it. Julius's guards thrust him through it into a large stone-clad chamber. Sitting on high-backed chairs behind a long table was a row of Grackacks each one wearing black robes and white, powdered wigs. They were hunched over sheets of paper. His sovereigns and five pound notes were arranged in front of them and they were examining the objects with great interest. Occasionally a thought seemed to occur to one of them and he would scratch away with his quill, the sudden flurry causing chalk dust to fall from his wig and land on his shoulders like malignant dandruff. The Grackack with the keys led Julius to a chair and sat him on it.