Krampus: The Three Sisters (The Krampus Chronicles Book 1) (17 page)

“But why?” Henry blurted. “I thought Castriot didn’t want Van Cortlandt descendants returning to Poppel for fear of exactly this―uniting the Sister Wheels and bringing Nikolaos of Myra back.”

“Yes, if all the Sister Wheels were united in the Horologe that would bring an end to the Garrisons. But in case you hadn’t realized, Poppel already has one of the three wheels.”

“They accused us of stealing it earlier!” Maggie exclaimed. “But whose would they have?”

“Lily’s,” Louis remarked thoughtfully. “It has to be Lily’s. But how could that be? What became of her?”

Houten stiffened. “That is a story for another time and place. All I’ll say is that the Foundlings acquired Lily’s wheel centuries ago. And since that time have enjoyed long lives down here. If Grace’s Sister Wheel were to be added to Lily’s in the Horologe, it would further extend the time given to Poppel. Which is why we must not let the Garrisons know who you are and what you have. They would first make sure the Sister Wheel is taken and then see to it that all of you are destroyed.”

Clemmie loudly gulped.

“But how did the Garrisons come to know about the Sister Wheels?” Catharine asked. “I have a hard time believing that the Foundlings were so forthcoming with all this information once the Garrisons had taken over.”

Hostrupp jumped in again. “Oh, when the Garrisons invaded long ago it was terribly, terribly terrible. Foundlings have always been extensive records keepers, going back over a thousand years when Poppel was first founded in Belgium. But when the Garrisons attacked Poppel ever so suddenly, we had no time―no time at all―to hide our records away, including the mighty fine tale of the three sisters. One of the very first things they did in Poppel―the very first―was hole themselves up in the Boeken Kamer, where they quickly learned all there was to Poppel and its legends.”

“Boeken Kamer?” Henry repeated.

“Poppel’s library,” Harriet quickly supplied.

Clemmie let out a laugh. “Of course, Poppel has a library. On top of everything else, why wouldn’t it! I imagine Poppel will also be getting its own postal service and navy any day now.”

Harriet glowered. “The library is where we keep all our books and records, including those that came all the way from Belgium centuries ago.”

Receiving Harriet’s glare, Clemmie became stoic once again.

“So if the Garrisons have Lily’s wheel and we have Grace’s,” Louis said slowly, counting on his fingers, “there is only one left―Sarah’s.”

“And that means it would be somewhere in the lineage of Stephanus, which went from Pierre Van Cortlandt to Major Henry to…” Maggie trailed off.

“My father,” Henry whispered, his eyes growing large.

Houten nodded. “Yes, Sidney Livingston would have been the last to know the whereabouts of Sarah’s wheel.”

“But you said that the wheel and story was always passed on to another family member,” Catharine said. “My mother, Margaret, would have been the last one in our family to know, but she died too suddenly to pass it on. However, Sidney just died recently. Why would he not tell Henry anything?”

Before Henry could respond, Maggie interjected, “What makes you think he didn’t?” Maggie turned to Henry. “You said you have letters and journals from your father. Did he ever once mention Poppel, or perhaps, the wheel?”

Henry thought carefully for a moment. “I… I don’t know. He wrote so much about Catharine and Margaret. But if there were any references to Poppel, it must have been done rather cryptically, because I don’t recall anything specific.”

Reaching into his jacket’s inner pocket, Henry pulled out a thick stack of yellowed papers that were tied together by a taut piece of twine. He went over to the corner and dropped the pile on the ground. The rest of the room watched as he rifled through the mound of letters, searching desperately for something perhaps overlooked.

“He shouldn’t bother,” Houten said gruffly. “Even if he could pinpoint the exact location of Sarah’s wheel, there’s still one element missing.”

“And what is that?” Maggie sighed, exhausted by the thought of even more parts to the already convoluted story.

“Although each individual wheel can be placed into the Horologe, there is only one tool that could successfully unite all three. And it hasn’t been heard of since Grace, Sarah and Lily still ran Poppel in the 1500s. It could be with either line of the Van Cortlandt families or it could have been left far away in Belgium altogether, never to be seen again.”

“What kind of tool is it?” Louis asked.

“Oh, I don’t even know exactly,” Houten said, scratching his deeply wrinkled forehead. “Some key or crank, I suppose.”

A large commotion suddenly sounded from outside of the shop.

“What is that?” asked Catharine, as the voices of a gathering crowd grew louder.

Henry looked up from the corner where he remained bent over, rummaging through the papers. Clemmie and Louis started moving toward the front of the shop to investigate, but Hostrupp pulled them back.

“No, no. You will certainly be seen. Most certainly.”

Hostrupp grabbed a long rod that had been leaning in a corner of the backroom. He flicked it up at the ceiling until it hit a knot in the wood. A moment later, the ceiling opened and a ladder came sliding down.

“Up here. Very secret attic from where we can view Myra Lane. Come with me quietly. Very quietly.”

Hostrupp scurried up the ladder with Clemmie and Louis following right behind. Catharine and Henry went next, but Maggie hesitated, looking at Houten. The old man clearly could not climb unassisted.

“Don’t worry about me,” Houten snapped, whacking the ladder with his cane. “Get up there and see what’s happening. Then report back.”

By the time Maggie made it into the attic, covered in old boxes of fabric and frayed ribbons, Hostrupp and the others were huddled around a dusty window facing Myra Lane. Maggie joined them, forcing herself into a gap between Henry and Clemmie. And there she was able to see what had everyone speechless.

It was Francis.

Francis had followed them to Poppel.

rancis stood on the stone platform under Myra Lane’s post clock. He was front and center of the growing Foundling crowd, sandwiched between Comstock and Cyrus who were slyly clutching the sleeves of his striped nightshirt.

At first Maggie thought her cousin was being paraded about as a captive, but she quickly realized he wasn’t being held prisoner―he was being celebrated.

“At last,” Comstock bellowed. “The Van Cortlandt heir has returned to Poppel. Here stands, Francis Casimier Moore, grandson of Clement Clarke Moore―the man we owe a great deal of thanks.”

Smiling cruelly, Cyrus gripped Francis’ sleeve tighter.

“Wait!” a voice roared from the crowd.

A moment later, another Garrison came bounding up to the post clock, each hand bracing the shoulder of two similarly sized bodies.

“What is that you have there, Chatham?” Cyrus hissed, peering down from the platform.

“They say their names are Gardiner and Gertrude,” Chatham replied, yanking the children forward. “They arrived to the Sleigh Pit right after Francis.”

Cyrus twisted his head toward Francis. “Relatives of yours?”

Francis gulped before murmuring, “My cousins.”

The Garrisons promptly cheered and after some persuasion, the Foundlings reluctantly followed suit. Francis didn’t seem to know how to take such a reception, while Gardiner and Gertrude were clearly frightened.

“Francis, Gardiner, and Gertrude―welcome to Poppel!” Comstock exclaimed. “Your arrival has been anticipated for many years.”

Looking overwhelmed, Francis stammered, “What’s Poppel?”

“Your new home,” Cyrus answered foolishly, causing Gertrude to burst into tears and Francis to jump off the platform in a panic. But Comstock and Cyrus grabbed his arms and hauled him back up just as Gardiner sprung forward, attempting to shove the Garrisons away from his older cousin.

The Garrisons had almost controlled the situation when a voice boomed from the other end of Myra Lane.

“Silence!”

Castriot stood near the banquet hall stairwell where McNutt had punched Henry. The mere presence of the Head Garrison caused a sudden shift in the crowd. Everyone watched as Castriot strolled down Myra Lane. He didn’t speak until he was standing between Comstock and Cyrus, blocking Maggie’s view of Francis.

“How dare you scare our guests, Cyrus,” Castriot said before turning to Gardiner and Gertrude. “You have no reason to be frightened. We are very pleased to have you here. Your family and our village have a long and pleasant history. Obviously, you may leave when you wish, but we hope you will stay for a little while.”

Castriot then extended his right arm toward the crowd and a couple of Garrisons appeared, arms overflowing with candy and toys. With their tears now sniffled away, Maggie watched as the twins giddily flocked toward the gifts.

Castriot moved to the side and Maggie spotted Francis again. She was pleased to see that he wasn’t as easily enticed by the offerings. But Castriot quickly responded to the boy’s hesitation. He swooped down to Francis’ level and whispered into his ear. Castriot and Francis exchanged words quietly.

“What are they saying?” Clemmie grumbled, pressing his face against the dusty window.

Francis and Castriot continued to talk until Castriot finally straightened up. The Head Garrison peeled off his black jacket and placed it over Francis’ nightshirt. Castriot then tousled Francis’ hair in a fatherly manner, leaving the boy with a rather smug grin.

Wearing only an undershirt and high-waisted trousers did not take away Castriot’s fearsomeness. He faced the crowd, hand on Francis’ shoulder, and announced, “The descendants of Oloff and Annette Van Cortlandt have returned to bring Poppel back to its former greatness and ensure its future dominance. I hereby declare that Francis Casimier Moore will be the new Head Garrison. And all of his requests and demands must be obeyed.”

Castriot stared down at the twins who had stopped munching on the slices of yellow cake in their hands. “Gardiner and Gertrude, you will join the Foundlings until you can prove yourself as useful as your cousin, Casimier.”

Two muscular Garrisons came up behind the twins and lifted them away before they could even cry out.

“Margaret Ogden!”

Maggie stiffened at the sound of her name. Her stomach shifted uncomfortably.

“Henry Livingston, Louis Moore, Catharine and Clement Ogden,” Castriot announced. “These other Van Cortlandt descendants have infiltrated our walls in an attempt to destroy Poppel. They must be tracked down and stopped. Any Foundling that is seen harboring these intruders will be locked in the Kelder.” Castriot paused, licked his lips and added, “Forever.”

A gasp trickled through the crowd, but Henry, Maggie, and the other Moore grandchildren couldn’t hear it over their own audible concern. However, they did not discuss anything until they climbed down the ladder and were once again safely tucked away in the back of Kleren.

Maggie was the first one down and immediately saw that Houten was no longer there. But the room had still gained quite a few faces. Ward, Harriet, Wendell, Lloyd, Nellie, and Violet had apparently snuck into the shop during the uproar in Myra Lane. By the time Clemmie, Catharine, Louis, and Hostrupp squirmed down the ladder after Maggie, the backroom was crammed with bodies.