A Lion to Guard Us (2 page)

“That's Mother,” said Jemmy.

“—and they were married and had three children.”

“Three
fine
children,” said Jemmy.

“James Freebold was a carpenter. He could build houses. Do you remember the house we used to have? He built it for us—”

“I know,” said Jemmy. “Tell the story.”

“There is a land called America,” said Amanda. “Some call it the New World. It's across the sea, and it's a beautiful land with rivers and trees and birds. Indians live there, and they wear feathers and shoot with bows and arrows. Some men asked Father to go there with them to help build houses. They were going to build houses and towns and live in America in a place called—”

“Virginia,” said Meg.

“Yes. You like that name, don't you, Meggie? Father said even if we were poor in London, we would be rich in Virginia. We would have our own fields and gardens. Remember the song he used to sing?” She sang very softly:

“Tell the
story
,” said Jemmy.

“Well, you and Meg and I had to wait with Mother. Virginia was a wild place. It wasn't ready for women and children. Father went ahead, and we moved to Mistress Trippett's, because Mother worked there.”

“You didn't tell it all,” said Jemmy.

“Yes, I did.”

“No. You left out the lion.”

“Oh,” said Amanda. “There was a door knocker on the house where we used to live. Before Father went away, he took it off and gave it to us.”

“He gave it to me,” said Jemmy.

“He gave it to us all. It was a lion's head. He said it was a lion to guard us while he was gone.”

Jemmy said again, “He gave it to me.” From under the covers he took out a small lion's head made of brass. A brass bar hung from its mouth. He swung the bar back and forth.

“Don't you want to hear about the sailor man?” asked Amanda. “He was here today. He'd been to Virginia, and he saw Father there. Father has a house, and he wants us to come.”

“When?”

“We have to wait.”

“Why?”

“For Mother to get well. Now go to sleep. You, too, Meg.”

She waited until they were asleep before she slipped out of bed. She picked up the candle and went back to Mother's room.

Ellie said the next morning, “It's been awhile since Mistress came downstairs. This might be the day.”

At least once a week Mistress Trippett surprised them in the kitchen to make sure that all was neat and no one was idle.

And just after breakfast, they heard the click of her heels on the front stairs.

“I told you!” whispered Ellie.

The servants stood like soldiers. Mistress Trippett came down into the kitchen. She looked small, even in her high heels and her tall, red wig. Her eyes were like little black beads.

She swept through the kitchen. She peered into the pantry and the cupboards. She opened the door to the back stairs.

Amanda held her breath. Jemmy and Meg were there. Once Mistress Trippett had called them idle brats. But today she almost smiled as she shut the door.

“The children have grown,” she said. “How old is the boy?”

“Eight, ma'am,” answered Amanda.

“And the girl?”

“Only five, ma'am.” Suddenly Amanda felt bold. “Do you think they might come into the kitchen?”

“Why, certainly,” said Mistress Trippett, and she swept off upstairs.

Cook's face was like stone. “I'll not have those brats under my feet.”

“You will if Mistress says so,” said Ellie.

Cook struck at her with a spoon. Ellie jumped out of the way.

Cook suddenly shouted at Amanda, “Don't stand there like a noddy. Fetch some water!”

Amanda took up the water pail and ran.

The pump was on the street, two doors down. She pumped the pail full. It was a heavy, wooden pail. Filled with water, it was as much as she could lift. Every few steps she had to put it down.

Someone came up beside her. “Amanda!” said a voice.

A man was there. He was dressed in black. His beard was gray, and there were little lines about his mouth that gave him a friendly look.

“Good-day, Dr. Crider,” she said.

“Child, you can't carry that.” He tried to take the pail, but she held on to it with both hands.

“Thank you, sir, but they wouldn't like it if you carried the water.”

“Who wouldn't?”

“Cook and Mistress Trippett.”

“They needn't know.”

“Mistress looks out the window. She might be looking now. Besides, it's
my
work.”

“Why?”

“I'm taking Mother's place.” Amanda carried the pail a few steps and set it down again. “Are you here to see Mother?”

“Yes,” he said. “How is she?”

“Better, I think. Today she looked brighter.”

“Amanda, don't you have a father?”

“Oh, yes,” she answered. “He's in America.”

“America! I never knew that,” he said in surprise. “Did he go to the colony in Virginia?”

“Yes, sir. He's in Jamestown.”

“America. The New World,” said Dr. Crider. “That's an old dream of mine. If I were a young man, I'd be there today.”

“We are all going there—my mother and brother and sister and I,” she told him. “We're going as soon as Mother is well.”

“Are you, indeed?” he said. They had come to the house, and they parted there. He went to the front door, she to the back.

It was more than a week before she saw him again.

Late one afternoon she thought she heard his voice in the hall. She asked Ellie, “Is the doctor here?”

Ellie looked at Cook. They both looked at her, and neither spoke.

“I want to see him,” said Amanda. “May I go?”

“Finish your work,” said Cook.

The kitchen began to grow dark. Amanda was lighting candles when Dr. Crider came into the room. He looked tired. The lines in his face were deeper.

“Amanda—” he said.

“Yes, sir?”

“Will you come with me?”

She went with him into the hall. They were alone there.

“I must tell you something,” he said.

She looked into his face.

“Amanda, your mother is dead.”

She stood still.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I did what I could.”

She felt as if she were choking. She put her hands to her mouth.

“Did you hear me, child?”

She nodded.

“Do you want me to tell your brother and sister?”

She tried to speak.

He asked again, “Did you hear me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“And shall I tell your brother and sister?”

She spoke then. “No, sir. It's for me to tell them.”

Mistress Trippett said, “It's a sad thing, but time and work will help you forget. Time and work, Amanda.”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Amanda.

She did her work. That helped her through the days. But at night she lay awake. She tried to think, and she asked herself, What's to be done? What's to be done now?

One day she went out back to feed the chickens. Jemmy and Meg were at work in the garden, clearing off the dry weeds and sticks. Jemmy had been raking. He had left the rake in the path, and Amanda tripped over it.

“Why don't you watch where you leave things!” she shouted. She caught hold of Jemmy and shook him.

His mouth fell open. He looked hurt and surprised.

She ran back into the house. She was almost crying as she bumped into Ellie in the hall.

“I shook Jemmy,” she said. “What ever made me do it? I'm the one to look after him and Meg, and I—”

“You
do
look after them,” said Ellie.

“No! I don't mend their clothes. I never talk to them anymore—”

Ellie said, “Don't be putting blame on yourself. Life is hard for you now. When you lose someone it's like—like having to find your way again.”

Amanda grew quiet. It was true, what Ellie had said.

That night, in bed with Jemmy and Meg, she left the candle burning. She said, “Who wants a story?”

“You said you didn't know any,” said Jemmy.

“I didn't, but now I do.”

“Is it about Father?” he asked.

“It's more about two sisters and their brother.”

“That's you and Meggie and I,” he said.

“And one of the sisters was a crosspatch,” said Amanda.

“That's you,” said Jemmy.

“She'd lost her way,” said Amanda.

“What?”

“She'd lost her way, but she found it again, so she wasn't a crosspatch anymore.”

“Is that all the story?” he asked.

“No. The brother and sisters lived in the city of London in the country of England. And one day— do you know what they did?”

“What?” he said.

“They went away. They left the city of London and the country of England. They left it all behind them.”

He sat up. “Where did they go?”

“They got on a big ship, and they sailed to America. They saw a town. That was Jamestown. They saw a man, and he came to meet them.”

“Father!” said Jemmy.

“Father,” said Meg.

“When are we going?” asked Jemmy.

“I don't know yet,” said Amanda, “but we
are
going. We
are!
”

In the morning she asked Cook, “If it please you, may I go outside?”

“No,” said Cook. “Where?”

“To the next street over.”

“What's on the next street over?”

“It's where the Virginia Company is.”

“The Virginia Company? What may that be?”

“It's the company that sends out ships to America.”

“And what's that to you?”

“Jemmy and Meg and I—we're going,” said Amanda.

Cook gave a snort. “And I'm going to fly to the moon!”

“If it please you,” said Amanda, “the house is on Philpot Lane. That's only a step away. I'll be back in no time at all.”

“No, you won't,” said Cook, “because you're not going.”

All morning Amanda worked. She swept and scrubbed. She mixed the bread and peeled the onions.

Toward noon, Cook shouted in her ear, “You've let the water pail go empty again!”

Amanda took up the pail and ran with it. Outside the back door she looked behind her. No one was watching.

She set the pail behind a currant bush. She picked up her skirts and went flying down the alley.

Amanda went straight to the big brick house on Philpot Lane. No one answered her knock. She tried the door, and it opened. She went into a large room where men sat at tables. They were writing, and she could hear the scratch of pens on paper.

She chose the man with the kindest face. “If it please you,” she said, “can you tell me about the ships that sail to Virginia?”

He kept on writing. It looked as if he were setting down figures and adding them up.

“I was here once with my mother,” she told him. “We wanted to go to Virginia because my father is there. A man said to come back later.”

She thought he hadn't heard. She made ready to say it all again. But he had stopped writing.

“Your father's name?” he asked.

“James Freebold.”

He opened a book and ran his finger down the pages. “Yes, he's here.”

“We want to go on the next ship,” she said.

“There will be ships going next month,” he said. “How many are you?”

“Three.”

“Your names?”

“Jemmy and Meg, and I'm Amanda.”

“Is Meg your mother?”

“No, sir. My mother is dead. Meg is my sister.”

“How old is your sister?”

“Five.”

“How old is Jemmy?”

“Eight.”

“But—you're only children. You can't go to the New World with no one to look after you.”

“I can look after us.”

“No, that won't do. We might find someone to look after you on the voyage, but that would take money—”

“I have money,” she said.

“How much?”

“I don't know, but—”

“See here, little girl, this is a busy place, and I'm a busy man.” He dipped his pen into the ink and went back to writing.

“Please—” she began, but he didn't speak to her or look at her again.

She went home. The pail was still behind the currant bush. She took it to the pump and filled it.

When she carried it into the kitchen, Cook asked, “What kept you?”