Chapter 38
Tatscombe Hall, Wealdshire. 1517
'Feast time,' said Chris. 'I hope the food is okay. Any idea what we'll be having?'
'I had a quick look in a history book before we left, and it said that people ate well in Tudor times. We'll be able to find out for ourselves in a minute.'
No longer needing to hide their bikes amongst the trees, Josie and Chris pedalled right up to the front door of Tatscombe Hall. As Chris unstrapped his stereo and tucked it under his arm he said, 'I'm glad I thought to wrap this in polythene. Maybe Aunt Alice's influence rubbed off on me and I just knew it was going to be drizzling here. It's weird 'cos I haven't bothered to wrap it up on our previous journeys.'
'Did you bring some new batteries,' asked Josie.
'Yep. I put some fresh ones in before we left.'
'Did Mum ask you anything this morning?'
'Yeah, sort of. I think she was trying to say that we'd been acting strangely lately, and wondered what we were up to.'
'I hope you didn't tell her. When she was chatting to me I got the impression she was fishing. I just said we'd both been busy and were feeling a bit tired.'
As Chris raised his fist to knock at the door, he said, 'One good thing about time travelling is that we don't have to spend much time away from home. A thirty-minute round trip and we can have been here for hours.'
The door opened almost as soon as Chris had finished knocking. Sarah, a beaming smile on her face, bade them enter. They went straight to the parlour and found everyone waiting. Elizabeth rushed up to them and couldn't hide her excitement. She turned back for a moment and beckoned to someone. A shy-looking youth stepped forward. 'This is Robin,' she announced. 'Father wanted to make amends for the way that Simon had treated him and invited him to the feast.'
'Hey, that's good,' said Josie and then, bending forward, asked in a conspiratorial whisper, 'Do you think your dad will let you carry on seeing Robin?'
Elizabeth stroked her lip with her knuckle and looked coyly at Robin. 'We think he will turn a blind eye to our friendship.'
'I'm so pleased for you,' Josie said, and then allowed her attention to be distracted by the long table groaning beneath the abundance of food which had been heaped upon it. 'What a spread,' she said. 'We'll be too full to ride home if we get stuck into that lot.'
'Come,' called Lady Jane, 'see what treats we have prepared in your honour.'
There were various dishes of meat, whole fish, large blocks of cheese, tarts and puddings, pastries and biscuits, apples, bowls of honey and nuts, and several pitchers of wine, ale and beer.
Josie pointed to a dish of what appeared to be miniature chickens. 'What are those?' she asked.
'They are blackbirds,' Lady Jane told her. 'Have you not eaten blackbird before?'
'Uh, no. I don't know anyone, other than our cat, who has eaten blackbird.'
'Here,' said Lady Jane, reaching out for the dish of small birds, 'I will put one on your trencher.'
Josie tried to think of an excuse. She doubted she would be able to eat anything else if there was a dead blackbird lying on her wooden plate. She caught her brother's eye and beckoned him over when Lady Jane was out of earshot. 'This is your blackbird,' she whispered. 'Lady Jane has reserved it for you.'
'Yeah, okay.' He studied the rest of the spread. 'Hmmm. As I thought. No spuds.'
'Yes, you're right. Swedes, turnips, cabbage, but no taties. We'll have to wait until Sir Walter Raleigh goes off on his potato hunt.'
'If we'd thought about it,' Chris tittered. 'We could have nipped in the chippy and bought a quid's worth of chips.'
'Master Chris,' called a deep voice. Chris turned to see Sir James beckoning him.
'I see thou hast brought a box with thee. Gone are the days when I had the patience of a saint. Pray put me out of my misery and tell me what mysteries it contains.'
Chris collected his stereo and removed the polythene sheet as he went back to where Sir James was waiting. The old man seized the sheet of plastic, opened it out, and then, with mouth and eyes wide open, slowly crumpled it, and then squeezed it into a ball. 'God's teeth!' he exclaimed. 'What miracle is this? Glass which does not break when bent and crushed.'
'Oh, that's just a sheet of plastic,' said Chris. 'We've got loads of the stuff lying around if you want a few sheets. It'll only get thrown out.'
Chris had never seen anyone look so astonished and delighted. 'You throw this away! What folly. You cut down trees and throw away glass which can be used like cloth.' As he said this he draped the sheet over his shoulders like a cloak. 'To think that all my descendants will be afflicted with such madness that they will think trees and magic glass to be worthless.'
'You can keep that sheet. I expect it will have stopped raining by the time we go home.' Having made his generous offer, Chris stepped back a pace or two in case Sir James decided to show his gratitude by bestowing on him a hug such as he had given Caleb. 'Do you want to hear what is in the box?'
Sir James appeared to be in a dream. He stopped stroking the polythene for a moment. 'Box? Ah yes, the box.'
Chris placed the stereo on a small table and pressed 'play'. As the authentic sounds of lutes, viols, recorder, rebec, shawm and crumhorns filled the room, all conversation died. Josie stifled a giggle as she saw all the heads turning wildly to locate the minstrels.
Sir James gazed in astonishment at the box. 'Are there fairies in there? They play so loudly for such small folk.'
Chris demonstrated the volume control — and soon wished he hadn't for Sir James was captivated by the sliding button. Laughing to himself, he made the fairies play softly and loudly, softly and loudly until, if there had actually been fairies in the box, they would downed their instruments and demanded that their contracts were renegotiated. When he eventually tired of playing with the fairies, he shook his head and pronounced that perhaps, after all, there might be some good things for future generations to look forward to. 'It puts me in a good humour to know that, five hundred years from now, people will still enjoy this music.'
Chris decided not to burst his bubble by saying that you'd have to travel a long way to find people who played Tudor music on their hi-fi systems.
Sir James stood and held his arms up. 'Come. Let us eat.'
Throughout the meal, Sir James wore his transparent cloak and, every now and then, raised or lowered the volume on the stereo which, he had insisted, should remain on the table in front of him.
The twins soon learned how to eat Tudor-style. The food was cut with a knife and then eaten with the fingers. (Chris thought that this was good for those doing the washing up but not quite so good for those who had to clean the grease from ghetto blasters afterwards.)
Sir James and Lady Jane drank their wine from silver goblets (the set being complete again) while the others supped from wooden vessels.
Josie spent most of her time talking to Elizabeth and Robin. Although Robin was naturally quiet and very shy, Josie soon began to realise why Elizabeth was so taken with him. He was so sensitive and observant that, when he could be persuaded to open his mouth, he was a delight to listen to. What a shame Elizabeth found you first, Josie thought. On the other hand, I'm not sure I want a boyfriend who has been nibbled by worms for the last five centuries.
Chris, becoming increasingly loud as he quaffed vast quantities of ale, found plenty to discuss with the master and mistress of the house. He had told them about the road protesters and they were insisting that he should join their ranks. 'It doth seem to me,' proclaimed Sir James, 'that your eco-warriors are the only people in your time who can appreciate God's wonderful world.'
Caleb and Sarah kept themselves to themselves. Partly, they felt a little out of place sitting at table when they were but servants. Mainly, however, they had much to talk about after the events of the last few days.
The meal continued for several hours and, towards the end of it, Chris was finding it increasingly difficult to talk sense. Josie, feeling quite light-headed herself, asked Sir James if anyone would be offended if she and her brother left soon. 'Nay child. We have eaten well — we have talked till our throats are hoarse — and 'twould be sensible to end now before we make fools of ourselves.'
'Dost thou wish to stay the night?' asked Lady Jane. 'I can have beds made up.'
'That's very kind of you,' Josie answered, 'but we must go home now. Our parents will be expecting us.'
Josie managed to get Chris to his feet and drag him towards the door where they made their farewells. Sarah insisted on seeing them out. She helped Chris onto his hobby horse and then planted a big kiss on his cheek.
Oh dear, thought Josie, he's just been kissed and he probably won't remember anything about it when he sobers up. What a good job there's no traffic to worry about, although what I'm going to do with him when we get back to our own time, I've no idea. I'm not even sure that I'm all right to be riding on the road. Phew! That booze really hits you when you get outside.
'Good night, Sarah,' she called. 'Come on, Chris, get pushing on those pedals. Just follow me.'
All the way to the time gate, Chris forced himself to concentrate on the red light (often two red lights) in front of him. At the crossroads he had a slight accident. When the red light in front suddenly veered to the left, he jammed on his brakes, skidded, lost his balance and tumbled onto the wet ground. 'My stereo!' he cried. 'I bet I've smashed it.'
'No you haven't,' said Josie as she came back to help him to his feet. 'You left it at Tatscombe Hall. Hey! You'‡re all muddy — and now I am as well. How are we going to explain this to Mum? Come on. It's not much further.'