Tom led the way down the stairs at breakneck speed and raced into the kitchen, Fergus and the two girls at his heels.
Mistress Pippin was fighting off leather-men with a frying pan. ‘Take that, you monster, take that!’ she cried. ‘And that!’
As one leather-man crumpled to the floor, another two advanced. Slowly the cook was being forced back towards the fireplace. Fury swelled through Tom. He leapt forward, wrenched a copper pan from a hook, and began wielding it fiercely. Thwack, crack! Another leather-man toppled to the floor, and then another. Fergus leapt on the back of one, forcing it to the ground, while Quinn took up a basket of apples and began pelting them. Thud, thump, splat! Then one apple, thrown rather wildly, fell into the ashes of the fire and sent up a great burst of sparks. The leather-men reeled back. Tom was able to knock out one, then another, with his pan. Quinn felled one with her basket, while Mistress Pippin took care of the rest with her frying pan.
They lay twisted on the ground, all bones and leather and hair, looking like something a giant owl spat up. Tom and Quinn gingerly seized the leather-men’s stiff, contorted arms and dragged them out the door, locking and bolting it behind them.
‘Tom,’ his mother cried, dropping the frying pan and holding her arms wide.
‘Mam!’
They hugged each other close. Wiping away tears, Mistress Pippin pulled herself away. ‘I’m so glad you’re safe! Quinn, dear girl, you too.’ She then saw Elanor, white-faced and frightened, and bobbed a surprised curtsey. ‘My lady, are you hurt? What on earth are you doing down here in the kitchen?’
‘They … I …’ Elanor stammered.
‘Those leather-men were trying to take her,’ Tom said. ‘Mam, what are we to do? They’re everywhere!’
‘You need to get away from here as fast as you can,’ his mother answered. She plucked a knapsack from a hook by the door and began hurling things into it—a frying pan, a pot, a wooden spoon, a round cheese in red wax, apples, a bag of dried peas, a hank of air-dried bacon and a tinderbox. Quinn hurried to help her, while Elanor quickly pulled on her green gown and golden slippers. Tom filled a waterskin from the water-barrel, and grabbed some small pork pies from a plate on the table and threw them in the knapsack.
‘Quick, Tom, look in the larder, behind the barrel of brine.’ As Mistress Pippin spoke, she took her own brown woolly shawl and wrapped it around Elanor’s shoulders. Elanor huddled into it gratefully.
Tom did as he was told and found a longbow and a quiver of grey-fletched arrows, with a tightly rolled grey cloak tied to it.
‘The bow belonged to your father when he was a boy. I’ve been saving it for you. You must go to him, he will help us,’ Mistress Pippin said, hurriedly shoving a small pouch of coins into the knapsack.
‘My father?’ Tom was flabbergasted. ‘But where?’
‘Look for him in the forest where the wolves howl.’ Mistress Pippin took her wedding ring off and thrust it in Tom’s hand. He knew it well. Made of fine gold, it was in the shape of two hands holding a heart. ‘Wear it, keep it safe. He’ll know it when he sees it.’
‘But Mam … my father … I don’t even know his name,’ said Tom, sliding the ring on his middle finger.
‘He’s called Hunter. That’s what he was, you know. He was the Lord’s Wolf-Catcher once … a long time ago. But … you must get away.’ As she spoke, Mistress Pippin was hurriedly filling another knapsack for Quinn to carry.
‘But Mam, what does he look like? Where will I find him?’
‘In the forest, I told you. And what does he look like?’ Her face softened and she patted Tom’s cheek. ‘You have his eyes, Tomkin.’
Just then, someone began trying to kick down the kitchen door. Everyone jumped. Elanor screamed.
‘Shhh, shh, sweetling, we need to hide you. Into the larder, quick.’ Mistress Pippin raised her frying pan.
‘Into the larder?’ Quinn cried.
‘Yes, yes. There’s a secret way out through there. Climb over those barrels, press the stone at the back, the one with a little hollow … that’s the one.’
Over the sound of the banging at the door, Tom heard a click as a stone in the wall of the larder swung aside. Quinn went through eagerly, and Elanor and Tom followed close behind. Tom whistled softly to Fergus to follow.
‘Mam, hurry,’ Tom said, as the banging at the door grew louder. His mother was just about to follow him when suddenly the kitchen door broke down, and a tall figure in black armour strode through, a sword in his hand. His helmet had boar tusks on it.
Fergus growled, but Tom grabbed his collar and held him back, putting his hand over the dog’s muzzle to keep him quiet. From the shadows of the larder, he could just see more men in armour crowding into the kitchen. At once, Mistress Pippin stood in front of the larder door, her frying pan held high.
‘How dare you burst into my kitchen like that!’ she cried. ‘Have you no manners, you knave?’
‘Where is the little lady?’ the knight growled menacingly.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Mistress Pippin answered. Behind her back, she gestured urgently for Tom to go, but he couldn’t bear to leave her.
The knight strode forward, putting the point of his sword to Mistress Pippin’s throat. ‘Lady Elanor. Where is she?’
Tom jerked forward, but Quinn held him desperately, one small hand covering his mouth. ‘Shhh,’ she whispered in his ear.
‘Tucked up, sound asleep in her bed, no doubt, which is where I’d like to be,’ Mistress Pippin answered. ‘Now get that nasty sharp thing out of my face!’
The knight threw back his head and laughed. It sounded weird and horrible booming through the metal of his tusked helmet. Tom saw that his sword had a handle of bone, all carved with strange symbols. The man put the point of his sword to the floor and leant on it, slowly pulling off one gauntlet. He wore a huge red ring on one finger.
‘I don’t want to hurt you. My bog-men have traced her scent here. Tell me where she has gone and we will send you to the dungeons with the others. Refuse to tell me and …’ The knight slapped his gauntlet into his bare hand.
‘Bog-men?’ Tom murmured. To his horror, a swarm of them crept forward, sniffing the flagstones.
His mother flapped her hand urgently behind her back. ‘No need to get nasty,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why you’re looking for her here. Ladies don’t come down to the kitchen.’
Once more she gestured emphatically behind her back. With a choke in his throat, Tom let Quinn pull him into the passageway. As Quinn dragged the secret door closed, Mistress Pippin whacked the knight hard over the head with her frying pan.