14

‘You, boy! Climb down at once!’

Glimpsing my short-haired head around the side of the carriage, it’s an easy mistake to make, though I don’t move.

‘What’s going on? Why’ve we stopped?’ Pierre whispers.

‘Stop asking questions!’ I hiss. Truth is I’ve never been robbed before – it’s always been me doing the stealing.

‘Get back under the oilcloth,’ I order Pierre.

‘Where’re you going?’

I lick my dry lips. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

From the front of the carriage, I hear the driver yelp. Then footsteps approaching. I keep still. The footsteps stop as, with a clunk, the carriage door opens.

‘Step outside, messieurs!’ The robber’s voice is rough, as if he’s forcing it to sound that way. ‘Hurry up. I’ve not got all day!’

The carriage rocks as Viscount Herges, Monsieur Joseph and Monsieur Etienne climb out.

‘We have a little money.’ This from Monsieur Etienne. ‘Here, take my purse. I have a silver hat pin and there’s a ruby in this ring.’

‘Take them and let us be on our way,’ Monsieur Joseph pleads.

‘Not so fast,’ the robber growls. ‘I don’t want your jewels. And keep your hands where I can see them.’

I catch my breath. There’s one thing on this coach more valuable than rubies or silver – and I’m sat on it. The robber must be working with the English.

Footsteps approach the back of the carriage. At my left ear something clicks: the safety catch of a gun, I think, and feel a beat of terror.

‘Perhaps you didn’t hear me the first time,’ the robber says.

Slowly, pistol still at my head, he moves to face me. It’s my first proper look at him. I almost snort in surprise: why, he’s not even a full-grown man!

I still haven’t moved, either.

‘Are you completely stupid?’ the robber asks.

With his gun at my head, I know I’ve no choice but to get down. I do it slowly, mind, making it clear I’m not happy.

‘Well, well. Not a boy, after all,’ he says, as I land in front of him. His gaze flickers over my dusty frock. He’s got bright blue eyes, I notice, and blond hair that’s escaping from his hat.

‘I’m as quick and tough as any boy,’ I tell him.

‘Excellent, then you can start by unloading this luggage.’

There’s no way to do so without revealing Pierre. Or the valuables box. Fiddling with the luggage straps, I make myself look busy, though really I’m buying time. The robber is twitchy, looking up and down the road. From the side of the carriage, I hear movement. The noise gets the robber’s attention.

‘I told you to wait—’

Monsieur Etienne comes at him like a giant bear. The force knocks the air from the robber’s chest in one big gasp. They fall to the ground. Then Monsieur Joseph joins in. And Viscount Herges. I can’t believe it. Neither look like they’ve had a brawl in their life, but suddenly they’re rolling, grunting, cussing, all four locked together in one big heap. I try to get a punch in, but they’re moving so fast I can’t take aim. What worries me most is the robber’s pistol: he’s waving it dangerously at the carriage, the horses, the luggage pile, the sky.

‘Come out slowly,’ I whisper to Pierre. ‘Take Voltaire and Coco and hide up the bank behind the trees.’

Pierre does as I ask just as the four-bodied heap breaks apart. That pistol is really bothering me, though. It’s still in the robber’s hand. This time my kick hits home. Catching the pistol hard, I send it spinning high into the air. The robber yelps in surprise. The gun lands in a puff of dust some way up the road.

‘Sit on him!’ the driver cries, seeing the robber now disarmed. ‘Don’t let him reach the boxes!’

Yet before anyone can grab him again, the robber sets off after his gun. He’s got the look of someone scarpering, knowing he’s beaten. He’s also holding his wrist, which makes me think maybe I kicked more than just the gun.

‘Let’s get moving before he returns,’ Monsieur Joseph says, hurrying the other two men back into the carriage. He climbs in after them, leaning out again to speak to me. ‘Magpie, please ride inside with us.’

‘I will . . . just a minute . . . I need to . . .’ I scan the bank, trying to find Pierre. Typical. I told him to hide, not vanish from the face of the earth.

‘For heaven’s sake, get in!’ Monsieur Joseph cries, still holding the door open.

I can’t. Not without Pierre. ‘I’m coming,’ I tell him, ‘but Coco and—’

Gunshot.

My heart stops. The robber’s hit someone, I think in panic. Who? Who?

Yet when I see him he’s some way up the road. Gun recovered, he’s fired into the air in a sort of frustrated show of strength. He does it again, then steps off the road, disappearing between the trees.

The gunshots have terrified the horses. I hear the driver up at the front saying, ‘easy now’ as they fidget and prance. The carriage jolts back, then suddenly lurches forward, making the door slam shut with a bang.

It’s enough. The front horses rear straight up. There’s a squeal, the driver shouting ‘whoa!’ as the air fills with dust. By the time it clears again, the carriage is careering down the road.

‘Wait!’ I yell, waving my arms above my head. ‘Waaaaaaaait!’

Which of course is the very moment Pierre chooses to show himself, a bird under each arm. ‘Sorry, I was just . . . oh!’

We both stare helplessly after the carriage. Already, they’re so far away there’s no point even trying to catch up. As for the robber, he’s vanished completely.

Furious, I turn on Pierre. ‘Where were you? Why didn’t you come?’

‘Ask him.’ He pushes Coco back into my arms. ‘He took one look at Voltaire and ran off.’

‘You were meant to be looking after them both!’ I cry.

‘I tried! It’s not my fault if your bird’s a . . . chicken!’

‘He’s a ROOSTER!’

We glare at each other for a long, hard time.

I’m the first to speak, too desperate to be angry any more. ‘Well, the horses have bolted and the robber’s legged it. So it’s just you and me. We’ve no money, no food, no water. And Paris is miles away on foot.’

Pierre’s looking over my shoulder.

‘Are you listening?’ I ask.

‘Magpie,’ he says. ‘What’s that?’

He’s pointing at something lying in the road. It’s hard to see anything for dust at first. Then I see it. It’s a box – the box – looking even more battered now, having tumbled from the back of the carriage.

‘How did it get there?’ Pierre asks.

Just before the fight started, I’d loosened the luggage straps, hadn’t I? I’d not had chance to tighten them again.

‘It was me.’ I admit guiltily. ‘The robber wanted me to take down the boxes. I was trying to buy some time and—’

‘I’m glad you did,’ Pierre interrupts.

‘What?’

‘Remember Viscount Herges told us the King wanted everything? All Papa’s notes, all his drawings, everything? To keep it all safe from the English?’

I do.

‘So if they turn up at Versailles without what he’s asked for—’

‘They’ll still be able to fly, though,’ I say, not getting his point. ‘They’ll remember what to do. Besides, they’ve got the prototype.’

‘But the King won’t want anyone else getting hold of our designs. His order was to bring all their notes to Versailles.’

‘Maybe.’ I dig a toe in the dust, uneasy again. And not just about Monsieur Joseph, who’ll be in pieces if he thinks he’s let down the King of France. Frankly, we’re better off without this pesky box. Wherever it goes, trouble follows.

‘It’s obvious, Magpie,’ Pierre says, a bit too excitedly for my liking. ‘We’ll take the box to Versailles. Now you’ll have to come with me, after all.’

I narrow my eyes at the road ahead. I don’t fancy the walk to Paris. I fancy it even less with a heavy box to carry. But the other options aren’t pretty ones. The incident with the robber has shaken me. We need to get these notes safely to Versailles as fast as we can.

‘All right,’ I agree. ‘You grab one end of the box, I’ll grab the other.’

We set off like that, and at first it’s not too bad. We even see the funny side of our birds and their constant bickering. Voltaire insists on walking ahead like our leader. Coco tucks his head back in the sling as if he can’t bear to watch.

I don’t laugh for long, though. Every shadow, every sound now is making me start. Though I don’t tell Pierre, I’m pretty certain we’re being followed.