The Stolen Kingdom, Page 2

Tibbie’s head, unlike his body, was rather large. So when Brianna chucked the vase at it, she had quite a big target. But she missed on purpose. She wasn’t the hurtful type. She just wanted to scare the bejeezus out of him.

  “Whadgya do that for?” he asked.

  “Don’tchya dare evva say that ag’in! Ya filthy rat!”

  “Well, it’s true.”

  “Don’t tell me what’s true, fatty!” (Tibbie had a little belly. Of course, Brianna had a belly, too, and was well aware of it. But that didn’t matter. The truth is is that the two were practically made for each other, despite the fact that Tibbie was only four-foot-six and Brianna as big as a house.)

  “How else can you explain it?” Tibbie said.

  “Maybe it’s you!”

  “Meee?”

  “Yeah, you!”

  “There ain’t nuthin’ wrong with meee!”

  “Howda you know?”

  “I just do.”

  “Well, maybe if I was with somebody else, I’d get my child!”

  “And maybe you wouldn’t!”

  “I would! You betchya, I would! They’d give me a good child, too! The best hope I got with you is t’give birth t’a hero sandwich!”

  “And what’s wrong with having a hero for a son?”

  “Uf!” – a plate. Just missed.

  “Geez!”

  Tibbie’s humor had often saved the day in the past, but this time it wasn’t going to work. Brianna was far too frustrated. She had been trying to have a child with him ever since they were married two years ago. And he didn’t seem to be taking the situation as seriously as she did. Not that Tibbie didn’t want a child. It’s just that he wasn’t in quite the hurry that she was. No, Brianna was definitely the more aggressive of the two. Tibbie – he was much more relaxed, much more laid-back, much more – Look-out, another vase! He ducked. The vase came within inches of his wavy, dark hair.

  “Get out!”

  “Aaahhh, Brianna.”

  A plate came hurling. Tibbie jumped out of its path.

  “All right, all right, I’m going, I’m going.”

  Tibbie stepped out of the cottage. He brushed back his long, thick black hair and adjusted his collar. His house was clustered amongst many others just like it, and people just like him and Brianna (well, maybe not just like) were all around him, walking, talking, bartering. Vendors sold pickles and tools. Chickens roamed freely.

  “Out of my way!” Tibbie yelled, stomping his foot in front of one. “That’s right,” he said as it scampered away. He tugged at the black vest that covered that old, favorite cream shirt of his and smiled.

  “You better listen,” he scolded, as he walked down the street. “Don’t you tell me.”

  A few people noticed him talking to himself, but he didn’t care. They had already come to think of him and Brianna as odd, and so this really made no difference. Around town, in fact, Tibbie was referred to as “the weirdo chimney sweep,” and Brianna as “the weirdo chimney sweep’s enormous wife.” He was used to people’s staring.

  He hadn’t planned on leaving the house, though, and so he wasn’t exactly sure where he was going. But, in times like this, there was really only one place to go: The Saloon.

  Troubles? The Saloon. Depression? The Saloon. Argument with the wife? The Saloon.

  So to The Saloon he went.

  The saloon was called exactly that: The Saloon. It was the only saloon in the entire area, and why call it anything else? The name was simple enough. People knew where to go when they were thirsty. To The Saloon. And there was a sign outside that said so: “The Saloon.”

  Tibbie passed under that sign and into the barroom. The room was loud and smoke-filled and looked like just what Tibbie needed at the moment. Behind the bar was Bizman, a friend of his, who he knew would take care of him.

  Tibbie jumped up onto a stool.

  “Tibbie!” Bizman said. “Haven’t seen you for a while! How are ya?”

  “Hey, Biz,” responded the dejected Tibbie. “How ya doin’?”

  “You don’t sound so good,” Bizman noted. “Somethun’ botherin’ ya?”

  “The wife again.”

  “Ah! I see.”

  Bizman was already used to hearing that. Tibbie’s wife had probably given him more business in the past two years than most of his good customers.

  “Wants a baby,” Tibbie said.

  “…And you don’t?” Bizman guessed.

  “No. It’s not that I don’t,” Tibbie explained, “it’s just that it hasn’t exactly been in the cards yet.”

  Bizman shook his head.

  “I understand. And she blames you for this?”

  “You got it.”

  “Here. Have one on the house.” He poured a beer and placed it in front of the undersized man.

  “Thanks, Biz.”

  Bizman nodded and walked on over to the other side of the bar to let Tibbie sulk for a while. He started talking to another customer, but had barely gotten past “How are ya” before he heard Tibbie call out to him.

  “Bizman!…Anutha!” he said, raising his glass. “On the tab.”

  Bizman came back over and refilled Tibbie’s glass. He eyed him for a moment, shook his head, and walked back over to the other side of the bar. But he didn’t stay there long. Within five minutes, Tibbie was calling for him again.

  “Bizman!…Anutha!”

  Bizman walked back and filled his glass again.

  “You’re goin’ rather fast there, aren’t ya, Tib?” he said.

  “If you had my wife, you’d be drinkin’ fast too.”

  Bizman smiled at him and walked away. But within another five minutes, Tibbie was calling to him again, and again Bizman was back.

  And like that it continued – with Bizman going back and forth, back and forth, until finally he figured it easier to simply remain in front of the poor tiny-man. Every few minutes Tibbie would call out, “Anutha!,” which gradually became “Nutha!” and then “Utha!” After an hour and a half and ten beers, Tibbie was piss drunk.

  “Utha!” Tibbie called out.

  “Tibbie…” Bizman said, “…I give you anutha and you won’t even be able to raise that glass.”

  “Utha!” Tibbie persisted.

  “Go home, Tibbie.”

  “Ah, the hell witchya!” Tibbie said. He hopped off the stool and fell flat on his face. Too drunk to be embarrassed, he got up and started hobbling on his way.

  On his way out, the door suddenly swung open and Tibbie felt himself being knocked over by three sentries. In back of them was one of the palace officials, known as Rahavi.

  “Hey…” Tibbie said, as they walked on past, “what’s the big…” He forgot the rest. No matter. He got up and shook his head. “Brrrrrrrrrrrr!”

  What a day, what a day. He straightened himself and began once again to hobble out the door. Behind him, the noise of the sentries could be heard. They claimed to be looking for a thief named David. Of course, this did not matter much to a piss-drunk chimney sweeper.

  “Tell me…Tell her…I’ll tell…I’ll me tell…tell her.”

  Tibbie hobbled along.

  “No her…her tell…Me tell…Stand up…Stand up like a man!”

  And Tibbie fell down. He tried to push himself up, but didn’t get very far. Pushing was suddenly very hard. After a minute or two, he gave up. Finally, he managed to prop himself up enough to rest his back on a barrel that sat to the side of The Saloon.

  Tibbie then figured himself to be quite far-gone-drunk; for he could have sworn that he heard a soft cry when he bumped his back onto the barrel.

  “Nah,” he said to himself.

  He waved it off. But there it was again.

  His eyebrows fixed.

  Again the cry came.

  Tibbie perked his ears. He was sure he could hear it now. A soft cry. But where was it coming from?

  He listened.

  Funny as it seemed, the cry sounded like it was coming from the barrel!


  Naturally, Tibbie found this rather odd. From the barrel? Barrels don’t cry. How in the world…? His curiosity lifted him. With his greatest effort yet, he managed to push himself up onto his feet, and straighten his knees.

  Using all of his strength, Tibbie pulled the barrel top toward him, resting the upper lid against his chest. The crying had become even louder now, and Tibbie felt he had to hurry. He grabbed the barrel lid with his right hand and lifted it open. To his astonishment, a baby lay inside!

  Again Tibbie’s eyebrows fixed. Drunk as he was, a baby being in a barrel rather confused him. He scratched his head.

  The baby’s crying had come to a stop when Tibbie had opened the barrel, letting in some light. Now both of them were looking at each other, Tibbie confused by the baby and the baby confused by what must’ve looked like a white blob in front of him.

  Tibbie rubbed his forehead, thinking. Babies aren’t supposed to be in barrels! He knew that.

  “Babies aren’t sposed t’be in barrels!” he said. “What’a you doin’ in there, little baby?” He stuck his big head and little arms inside the barrel. At first the baby was frightened and started to cry again. But when Tibbie put his coarse hand behind its neck and placed him by his shoulder, the crying stopped. Tibbie’s shoulder was a lot more comforting than a dark barrel. The baby had a spot of black hair on top that Tibbie rubbed.

  “It’s all right. It’s all right,” he said. “Whatchya doin’ in there anyway, little baby?”

  Oddly enough, it was Rahavi who provided the answer.

  “Well, he’s got to be around here somewhere!” Tibbie heard him yell from inside. “Find him!”

  The noise inside The Saloon increased. Tibbie could hear the sound of tables flipping and chairs being knocked over. And even drunk as he was, he could figure-out what was going on. For some reason, they were searching for this baby. Tibbie smelt something funny. (It was probably his breath, though, I must say, he was sobering-up rather quickly now. Crisis does that.)

  What could a baby have done?

  Suddenly, Rahavi and one of the sentries emerged from The Saloon, a mere twenty feet from him. Instinctively, Tibbie tucked the baby under his vest. He overheard Rahavi as he gave the other man instructions:

  “Search out the entire area. He must be close.”

  The baby let-out a light cry. Quickly, Tibbie tried to muffle it with his shoulder. But it was too late. They had heard it! Rahavi and the two men turned toward him.

  Tibbie thought fast. He knew he couldn’t turn around. Then, in a flash, it came to him. He moaned:

  “Waaaahhh! Waaaaahhh! Life stinks! Waaaaahhh! I wanna be biiiig! – Like everybody else! Waaaaahhh!”

  “Just another drunk idiot,” said the sentry, laughing.

  Rahavi was losing his patience. “Find that baby!” he screamed.

  The sentry nodded and took off.

  Rahavi turned toward the palace and took a deep breath. I must find that baby, he thought. He turned back toward the drunkard.

  What the -

  He was gone!

  …………………………………………..

  “Brianna!” Tibbie yelled, as he scurried through the front door and pushed it closed behind him. “Brianna!”

  Tibbie ran through the kitchen and toward the bedroom, the baby still tucked under his vest.

  “Brianna!”

  “Get out, ya warthog!”

  Tibbie opened the bedroom door and peeked his head in. Brianna was on the bed eating a piece of fudge.

  “Stay away from me,” she said.

  “But I got somethun’ t’show ya,” Tibbie persisted.

  “I won’t like it.”

  “No, no. This you’ll like.”

  His tone made Brianna curious. She threw down the fudge in her hand and picked up a fresh vase that lay on the table next to her, quickly dumping out the water and flowers. It was just Tibbie’s luck that Brianna had so many vases.

  “If this isn’t good,” she warned, “you betta hope you have as hard a head as I think you have!”

  “It’s good, it’s good!” Tibbie said coming through the door.

  “Why you walkin’ so funny?” Brianna asked. Tibbie was still a little drunk.

  “Never mind that,” he said.

  He stepped closer, a wry grin on his face.

  “What’s that you’re holdin’ underneath your vest?” she asked.

  “That’s what I got t’show ya,” Tibbie said.

  “Well, then hurry up and show! I ain’t got all day, ya know!”

  “…You wanted one…” Tibbie said, “…You got one.”

  He opened up his vest to reveal the sleeping baby in its red blanket.

  “Well, where d’hell didgya get that thing?” Brianna snapped.

  “I found it.”

  “Whadaya mean you ‘found it?’”

  “I found it,” Tibbie repeated, “In a barrel.”

  “In a barrel?”

  “Yep.”

  “Just lyin’ in a barrel?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you found it?”

  “Yep.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “What?” Tibbie asked innocently.

  “Don’tchya think why the baby was there? Maybe it’s got some strange disease or somethun’.”

  “I don’t think so,” Tibbie said.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “No. Well – I mean – there were sentries.”

  “Sentries?”

  “Yeah, sentries,” Tibbie said. “I think they were looking for him. And I figured,” – he sat down on the bed next to her – “what could he have done?” The baby was now beginning to wake, and Tibbie smiled down at him.

  “Why would they be lookin’ for a baby?” Brianna asked.

  “I dunno.”

  “Here,” Brianna said, “let me see’m.”

  Tibbie handed her the baby. Brianna cradled him in her arms, and again he started to cry.

  “Sssshhhh,” Brianna said to him. “Shush, baby.”

  Brianna’s arms were large and comforting, perfect for a baby. Gradually, the newborn took solace in them and began to quiet down.

  “Tibbie,” Brianna said, looking up at him, “we can’t keep this baby, ya know?”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s not ours. That’s ‘why not.’”

  “Whoever put him in that barrel obviously wanted t’give’m away,” Tibbie reasoned. “And we’re in need of a baby. So let’s take’m.”

  Brianna looked down at the baby boy.

  “He is beautiful,” she remarked.

  “He’s got your eyes,” Tibbie noted.

  “Nah,” Brianna said. “My eyes are a lighter shade of blue. But he does have your color hair.”

  “And my mustache,” Tibbie added.

  “What mustache?”

  “Exactly. He doesn’t have one either.”

  Brianna started to laugh. Suddenly, though, she was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  They both looked at each other.

  “Who could that be?” Brianna asked.

  Tibbie thought for a moment. “Take the baby and hide,” he instructed. “I’ll go see who it is.”

  Quickly, they both got up. Tibbie headed for the door, Brianna for the closet. Again the knock came.

  Stopping before the door, Tibbie took a deep breath. Three more knocks.

  “Yes?” Tibbie said, opening up.

  Outside stood a tall, serious sentry. Tibbie was frightened, but he knew he could not show it.

  “There will be an announcement at eight tonight in front of the palace,” the sentry said.

  “An announcement?” Tibbie asked. “What kind of announcement?”

  “There is a new king,” said the sentry.

  “Oh,” Tibbie said. “Humph…Well, thank you for letting us know.”

  The sentry nodded and walked off. Tibbie shut the door and ran back toward the bedroom.

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nbsp; “Come on out,” he called. “He’s gone.”

  Brianna stepped out of the closet with the baby.

  “Who was it?” she asked.

  “A sentry.”

  “A sentry? What did he want?”

  “Said there is to be the announcement of a new king tonight.” He put his hand to his chin. “Seems odd, doesn’t it?”

  “My gosh,” Brianna said. “You don’t think that this baby has anything to do with it, do ya?”

  Tibbie took a deep breath. “I dunno,” he said. “It’s possible.” He paused, then added, “I better go tonight and see. You stay here with the baby.”

  He walked over and rubbed the baby’s head. It started to cry.

  “Something isn’t right here,” he said.

  …………………………………………..

  The palace was well lit by torch light that evening. Thousands gathered in the courtyard to hear of the birth of their new king. Many had brought their children and were waving flags and banners. Others brought gifts of chicken and cattle. There was a sense of pride in the air, and all were prepared to greet their new king with open arms.

  As eight o’clock approached, the crowd had began to stir with more and more anticipation. The animals became restless, the children animals. There were screams and hollers, whistles and claps. One woman sold flowers, another picked pockets, but it all seemed to mesh in the blackness of the night.

  Tibbie, meanwhile, couldn’t see a darn thing from where he was standing. Why were tall people so inconsiderate? At last he resolved to plant himself on top of one of the palace walls so that he could get a better view. Ordinarily, the guards wouldn’t let someone do that, but since Tibbie was so short, they took little notice. One of them looked over once, but he turned back when Tibbie waved at him and smiled.

  The trumpets blared. In an instant, the crowd became quiet. All turned their attention toward the balcony, where the two trumpeters stood alongside two guardsmen. Then out stepped Rahavi.

  “Ladies and gentlemen…” he said, “…your new king.” He gestured with his arm as the trumpets blared-out again.

  The crowd let-out a gasp of awe as the Dark Duke stepped out in his new robe of black velvet.

  A wave of shock ran through the audience. They began to talk, to murmur, to shout in a confused fashion. What was this? they wondered, How did this happen? It can’t be. The Dark Duke? No! Not the Dark Duke! Where was Queen Beatrice? Where was Benevely? But the sound of the Dark Duke’s voice brought a frightened quietude upon them.

  “Dear people of Belsden,” he said, his tone a futile attempt at sincerity, “I am afraid that I have news of the most terrible nature to report to you.” All stood silent. “Your queen,” the Dark Duke continued, “the lovely Queen Beatrice…passed away this afternoon while trying to give birth to a new leader.” The people began to stir again, becoming uneasy. The Dark Duke went on: “Unfortunately, neither the Queen, our beloved Beatrice, nor the child survived.” The crowd got louder, but the Dark Duke continued: “It is a very sad occurrence, indeed,” he said. “However, I know that the Queen would want nothing more from us than to move on from it and continue to prosper. And I assure you, that is the best route for us to take.

  “Therefore…going by the Belsden Stature…I shall assume the title and role of King…and all of the duties that come with it.” Some shouts, crying. “As my first act as King, I declare tomorrow a day of mourning in the name of Queen Beatrice, whom we all loved so dearly, and her unborn child.

  “We shall live on my people!” the Dark Duke declared, holding up his fist. The people, meanwhile, displayed only confusion. “And now, I must bid you goodnight, as I myself am in a state of complete and utter grief.”

  The Dark Duke turned and headed back into the palace.

  “That is all,” Rahavi said.

  “Where is Benevely?” someone yelled.

  “Benevely has disappeared,” Rahavi answered. “Word has it that he has run off to Dermer, a traitor.”

  Once again, the crowd was shocked, their voices stolen all at once. Rahavi turned and went into the palace, as the guards opened up the gate and began to usher the people out. The street became a mass of confusion of shouting and yelling, crying and whimpering. Where was Benevely? Benevely a traitor? The Queen dead? Nobody seemed to know what had just happened.

  The pandemonium had just begun.

  Tibbie hopped off the wall and ran toward home.

  …………………………………………..

  Rushing through the door, Tibbie raced for the bedroom, his chest heaving in and out. He was going as fast as his little legs could take him.

  “Brianna!” he yelled. “I got some bit of news!”

  Brianna lay on the bed with the baby in her arms. She had bathed him and wrapped him in a fresh white towel. She was feeding him milk from a cup, smiling down at his tiny face. So enraptured was she by this new-found treasure, that at first she took little notice of Tibbie in his excited state.

  “Ssshhh!” she said. “You’ll scare’m.”

  “But Brianna, I got news!”

  She glanced up at him.

  “Well, speak it then.”

  “Do you know who it is you’re cradlin’ in your arms?” Tibbie asked.

  “No,” Brianna said, marveling down at the newborn, “but he is beautiful.”

  Tibbie put his hands to his hips.

  “Do you remember the Queen Beatrice?”

  “Remember her?” said Brianna. “Whadaya mean, ‘remember’ her?”

  “I mean you’ll hafta remember her,” Tibbie said, “cause she’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Dead,” Tibbie repeated. “And that baby in your arms is her son.”

  “Whadayou talkin’ about?”

  “Whadamy talkin’ about?” – Tibbie threw his arms up to the heavens – “Here’s what I’m talkin’ about: The Duke of Lonn has just announced that the Queen died while giving birth. He claims that the baby did not survive. Therefore, he gets to be King. Very convenient, wouldn’t ya say? And how coincidental that I find a baby in a barrel on the very same day!”

  “Are you suggesting that somebody hid the King?”

  “There were sentries searching The Saloon,” Tibbie said. “They were looking for something. The Dark Duke must’ve formed some sort of plot.”

  Brianna’s eyebrows tightened. She looked down at the baby in disbelief, then again up at Tibbie.

  “Let me see that cloth,” he said.

  “Why?” Brianna asked.

  “Just let me see it.”

  “It’s on the floor there.”

  Tibbie walked over and took the cloth in his hands, feeling at the fabric. His eyes widened.

  “Look at this!” he remarked.

  “What?” Brianna said. “What is it?”

  Tibbie pointed to an emblem that had been embroidered onto the cloth. It was gold lacing: a picture of two opposite-facing lions traced out in front of a crown, pointed at the top. It was the Royal Seal!

  “My God!” Brianna cried. “The Seal!”

  Both of them stared in awe. The baby let-out a soft cry and Brianna glanced down at it. She shook her head.

  “But who could’ve hidden the baby?” she asked.

  “They say that Benevely disappeared,” Tibbie noted. “Claim he was a traitor to Dermer…”

  “Benevely? Never!”

  “Right,” Tibbie said. “I’m thinking that maybe it was him that hid the baby.”

  A moment of indecision arrested them. Tibbie’s eyes faltered, then stumbled, then faltered again. He put his hands to his hips.

  “I don’t know who to go to,” he said. “The other dukes aren’t nearly as powerful as the Duke of Lonn – now king. Plus, they wouldn’t believe us anyway…that cloth certainly isn’t enough to prove it to them – they would claim we just stole it. And I fear that if we were to tell anyone, it might very well lead to our deaths and the death of that baby.�€
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  They gazed at the innocent child.

  “Well, what should we do?” Brianna asked at last.

  “Well, if we want that baby to live, we can’t stay here,” Tibbie said. “They’ll find us for sure. We gotta get out of the country as soon as possible.”

  “Where will we go?”

  Tibbie rubbed his chin.

  “We can’t go to Dermer,” he said. “They’ll never let us in. They’d stone us just trying to cross the border. And we can’t go west – it would take too much time for us to get out of Belsden.”

  “What about north?” Brianna asked.

  Tibbie gave a slow nod.

  “I guess north it is.”

  “But to Sarbury or Monastero?”

  “Monastero,” Tibbie said. “Going to Sarbury would require us to go around Humbolt mountain, and we haven’t time for that. Plus, Monastero is bigger and it will be easier for us to blend in there.”

  Brianna nodded.

  “Then I suppose that’s it,” she said, a hint of concern in her voice. “There’s really no other option. When should we leave?”

  Tibbie looked down into the baby’s eyes. The newborn was smiling at him.

  “Tonight. We must leave tonight.”

  “Then what?” Brianna asked.

  He thought for a moment.

  “Well, I suppose we’ll hafta take care of him.”

  “Bring up a king, you mean?”

  Tibbie shrugged. “I suppose.”

  Brianna looked down at the baby again, who was now gurgling with delight. She rubbed his head affectionately and smiled.

  “I guess that’s all right with me,” she stated at last.

  “Good. Pack ya things.”

  …………………………………………..

  Monastero was a small country squeezed between the much larger nations of Belsden and Dermer, and abutting tiny Sarbury. It lay in the northern part of Europe, split evenly between the two borders. Throughout the years, despite numerous surrounding conflicts, Monastero had remained a relatively peaceful nation, with few if any squabbles. The people there were known to be relatively simple; mostly farmers and laborers, with the occasional tradesman. As for the land itself, it was probably one of most picturesque in all of Europe, filled with green hills and endless landscapes, waterfalls and streams round most every corner. It was a fine place to live.

  There were two ways to get to Monastero, both of which were guarded by the border patrol. One was to go over the flatlands, which was longer and more arduous. The other was to go through the Jadley Pass, which bordered on the southwestern side. Tibbie’s wagon would have had trouble getting over the marshy areas of the flatlands, especially with a woman and baby in tow. Plus, the Jadley Pass was closer and he knew that time was of the essence. It wouldn’t be long, he suspected, until the Dark Duke shut down the borders.

  So then the Jadley Pass it was.

  Tibbie and Brianna loaded up the wagon with all they had (though it wasn’t much), taking what little money was theirs and trading it in for gold. Since they didn’t have any friends, there really wasn’t anybody to say good-bye to. Their rent had been paid for the month as well, meaning that all they were truly leaving behind was Belsden itself.

  It was a chilly night. Brianna and the baby sat in the back of the wagon, cuddled safely in blankets, while Tibbie sat up front to drive the horse. Nobody even seemed to notice as the three made off down the road. When they reached the edge of town, Tibbie quickly picked up speed. He had to be careful, though. For should there be any sentries or officers on the lookout, he mustn’t let them think that he was in a hurry.

  Fortunately, there were no interruptions, and it wasn’t long before they came upon the Jadley Pass.

  As usual, sentries surrounded the area, checking every wagon attempting to pass through. Unbeknownst to Tibbie, they were all men from Lonn that the Dark Duke had selected from his personal force. They were the type of men who did not question their orders. The Dark Duke kept them satisfied, so they kept him satisfied.

  To his side, Tibbie noticed a couple of families that had been picked out. The families themselves didn’t know why, but Tibbie did; for the women all held babies in their arms.

  Fortunately, Tibbie and Brianna had prepared for this. In the back of the wagon was a large trunk, which they had set up with blankets inside. It wasn’t the coziest of places, but it had plenty of room for the baby to breathe, and the guards probably wouldn’t care to check there. It would act as the baby King’s hiding place.

  As they approached, Tibbie recognized the commanding officer as the man that had been talking with Rahavi. He took a deep breath and braced himself, then turned and whispered into the back of the wagon.

  “Get ready.”

  They had given the baby some alcohol to put him to sleep. Brianna kissed his face and placed him inside the trunk on top of a blanket. Pillows lined the side. She said a prayer to herself before closing the trunk and fastening the latch.

  They were the third wagon from the front now. Tibbie watched nervously as the sentries let the first wagon pass and approached the next one. He glanced into the back at Brianna and took another deep breath. When he turned back, he could see two guards approaching the wagon. One was a middle-aged unkempt man with a black mustache. The other was younger but just as haggard and unfriendly looking. The older one approached to Tibbie’s right, the younger to his left.

  The older one spoke:

  “We’re looking for David the Thief,” he said. “Have you seen him?”

  Tibbie kept his head straight.

  “Can’t say that I have,” he replied. “David the Thief? Nope. Can’t say I’ve seen him.”

  The younger sentry walked to the side and began to look around. He peeked into the back, where Brianna sat quietly, pretending to sew, and examined every object as if he were on a gold dig. Meanwhile, the other soldier continued to talk to Tibbie.

  “You sure you know what he looks like?” he asked.

  “Yup.”

  “And you haven’t seen ’im?”

  “Nope.”

  That trunk, thought the sentry, rubbing his chin. Brianna glanced up at him a moment. He eyed her suspiciously. She smiled and nodded. Still, though, he kept looking at the trunk. The trunk. He motioned with his head.

  “Open it,” he instructed.

  “Oh, there ain’t nuthin’ in there,” Brianna assured him. “Just some clothes and stuff.”

  “Open it,” the sentry repeated.

  Brianna looked to Tibbie, who had turned around to watch.

  “I’ll open it!” he said, putting down the reins.

  The older sentry put up his hand.

  “You stay here,” he said. He turned to Brianna. “Open the trunk.”

  Brianna kept her eyes on Tibbie, as slowly she got up. Tibbie’s hand reached cautiously for the reins, as she made her way to the trunk. She looked over at the young sentry and smiled again, but his expression was cold. Quickly, she tried to form a plan in her head.

  A wooden broom lay on the floor next to the trunk. She would open the trunk, she decided, and when the sentry peeked in, she would grab it up and crack him over the head as hard as she could. Then she would yell for Tibbie to giddy-up, hoping that he could knock the other sentry over in the process. From there, it would be a run-for-it to Monastero.

  Brianna flicked the latch of the trunk up; the sentries still staring on. She opened up the chest and slid her hand on over to the broomstick, ready to make her move. The younger sentry stood up on his toes to see inside.

  “It’s him!” a voice cried. “It’s David the Thief!”

  The voice had come from the wagon in front of theirs. All turned to it, including Tibbie, Brianna, and both sentries. Suddenly, a man jumped out with a sword and pierced a guard through the heart! “Aaagh!” He drew it out, around, and through another, then turned and darted off on foot into the woods.

  “After’m!” the head officer yell
ed.

  A herd of guards flew forward, including the two by Tibbie’s wagon. Tibbie and Brianna glanced at each other with raised eyebrows. Quickly Tibbie took up the reins and gave a strong tug. He whirled round the wagon in front of him and took off down the trail at top speed, causing Brianna to fall back hard. The trunk! She jumped up and grabbed it just as it was beginning to slide. Faster they went now! Faster! Two guards remained, but fortunately neither seemed to take much notice as Tibbie flew by, their attention still on the Thief.

  Brianna rubbed her head. She peeked in the chest and saw that the baby was not only safe, but smiling. Then she looked out the back and made sure that nobody was following them. No one there. She sighed. Thank goodness. Bump! She flew off into the side of the wagon.

  “Tibbie, ya fool!” she yelled. “Slow down! They’re not even followin’ us!”

  “What?” Tibbie said.

  Brianna bumped from one side to the other. She grabbed onto the trunk.

  “‘Slow down,’ I said!”

  “What?”

  “I said, ‘slow down!’”

  “What? I can’t-” Clonk! Tibbie felt a roll smack him in the head. He glanced back.

  “Slow down, damnet!”

  “Oh!” Tibbie said. He pulled back on the reins. “Why didn’tchya just say so?”

  Brianna sighed.