REALLY NOT A GREAT FIRE
A David Sands Competition story by Karen Millard
An entry in The Sands of Time Writing Competition
I stood there looking at the metallic cuff on my wrist. It wasn’t much larger than one of those bracelets that counts how many steps you take, and I had serious doubts that it could do what was claimed. But, hey, it wasn’t like I had any other plans for the weekend. And if I pressed the button and it did absolutely nothing – which I pretty much expected – there was no one but me around to know.
A little background on the cuff: it was loaned to me by Miriam, my historian best friend who swears that it actually allows you to travel through time.
We were discussing the history of London the other day, and I commented that I would have liked to have a chance to see what it looked like before the Great Fire in 1666. She was quiet for a minute, with an odd expression on her face, then said that if I was serious she had a way for me to have a look.
Now I was undoubtedly the one with odd expression, as I asked her what the bloody hell she was talking about? So she told me about this cuff, that could supposedly allow the wearer to travel to a specific place and time, and actually visit an historical event. It had been invented by her friend, Jonathan Dewars, who is apparently a brilliant, blind, physicist. He says that it works perfectly in theory, but no one has actually tested it yet, because of one important issue: it is not possible to exist twice in the same time period, so any trip would have to be to a time before you were born. He and Miriam had discussed it, and he had let her have a cuff to look over, but she hadn’t yet agreed to test it.
I won’t say that she convinced me, but she set the cuff, told me how to use it, and finally got me to take it home. It was easier than arguing, and what could it hurt?
So here I am. At home on Saturday morning, cuff on my arm, and wearing a costume I put together that I hope looks something like what a woman would wear in 17th century London, along with a basket holding a bottle of clean 21st century tap water. Oh, and feeling like an idiot.
I press the button on the side of the cuff.
Everything goes white for a moment, and then I am standing in a grassy field trying not to lose my breakfast. Shit. It really worked!
Not far away are gated walls that must mark the current City of London. It is mid-day, so the gates are open. After taking a few minutes to catch my breath and convince myself that this is real, I head toward them.
The first thing I notice, even before I am inside, is the stench. Shit! And that is not just an exclamation of disgust – that is what I am smelling. Feces and urine, plus a few other things I can’t immediately identify and don’t want to. I also see that it is all over my feet. No nice clean paved streets here. These shoes are definitely going in the bin as soon as I get home.
As I keep walking and look up, though, the architecture is fascinating. It’s no wonder this place burned so fast! Not only are most of the buildings made of wood, the upper floors stretch out farther than the ground floor, so that they nearly touch across the streets in many cases. And many have thatched roofs. With so many crowded so close together, the only surprise is that there hasn’t been a major fire before now, though there must have been some minor ones. Most of the streets are narrow and winding, many barely wide enough for a horse and cart.
I want to see the Royal Exchange and its nearby shops, and of course St. Paul’s Cathedral, but I am quickly lost in all of the strange twisting streets. However, everything is “new” and interesting, so I am in no hurry, taking note of all the weird and wonderful old buildings.
I am mostly looking up and paying little attention to the people around me, until someone grabs me by the arm.
I try to pull away as I turn to face him, but though the man is not much taller than I am, skinny and dirty, he is also strong. “Let go of me!” I hiss.
“Now, now, a lovely little thing like you, all by herself with no man needs protecting. Lucky for you, I look after little ladies. You will just come with me.”
Okay, don’t panic, I told myself. So coming alone wasn’t a bright move, but all I have to do is wait until I can get my arm free – ouch! – and push the button on the cuff. I’ll be back home and all will be well.
The man dragged me into a small, filthy, alley, and through a door into a tiny, one-room hovel. The floor was dirt, the walls made of wood, and the roof was thatch. It wasn’t empty, though: four young women – girls, really – lay on the floor. It looked as though they had been sleeping until the sound of the door banging open woke them.
The man started to toss me toward the women, then noticed the cuff on my wrist and grabbed it. “What’s this, then? Very pretty. That will fetch a good price.”
Panicked, I tried again to pull away. “That’s mine!”
I heard at least one of the girls gasp as he slapped me hard across the face. “Now listen, girly. From now on I own you, so anything that’s yours is mine. Got it?” He pulled the cuff off my wrist and pushed me hard onto one of the others. “Don’t let her go anywhere, or I’ll have all your hides.”
With that he, and my time travelling cuff, were gone.
The others didn’t have to worry about me trying to escape. Where would I go? I ignored them and curled up in a corner to think.
The worst part, I realised, was that I wasn’t quite sure when I was. Before the Great Fire, yes, but how much before? A day, a month, a year? Did I have to worry about London burning down tonight? I had the feeling that the other girls in the room wouldn’t know the date either, and, even if they did, I couldn’t remember if they were using the Julian or Gregorian calendar at this point. (Okay, I wasn’t prepared for this, but, hey, I just wanted to look at the architecture.)
On top of that, there was a major problem with the plague in 1665, the year before the fire. Yes, if I caught it and got home it could be cured easily enough, but what if I didn’t get home? At least everyone here looked healthy (well, not plague-ridden, anyway).
Eventually I decided to ask a few questions. I slid nearer the closest girl, who was still awake.
“Hello. My name is Angela.”
“Good for you.”
Okay, not a great start, but I kept trying. “Could you tell me why we are being kept here?”
This time she at least looked at me, though her expression said that I was the stupidest human she had come across recently.
“We work for Hartley, don’t we?”
“Work for him? You mean he’s ...”
“He’s our pimp, right. What did you think?”
Suddenly I changed my mind. I hoped tonight was the night the Great Fire started. How did I get myself into this mess, and, more importantly, how was I going to get out of it?
The nameless girl was still speaking, though: “You won’t go out for a few nights. He doesn’t trust you yet. Besides, that bauble he took will pay for your meals for a bit. Not that we get much. I hope you like mouldy bread.”
“It sounds delicious.” Still, it gave me a bit of time to figure my way out of this.
“Where would he sell my – bauble?”
Again, the expression suggested this was an idiotic question.
“At the Market, of course. On Pudding Lane.”
Pudding Lane. Why did that sound so familiar? Oh, right – a bakery in Pudding Lane was where the fire started. And we must be close. Could this day get any worse? No, scratch that, I don’t want to know. But at least I now had an idea where to find the cuff, if I could ever get out of here.
As all of the girls except the one I had been speaking to were now sleeping – they worked nights, after all – I decided to pretend to sleep as well. Now I did have a reason to escape, and while I might be able to fight off one girl, it would surely wake the others, and fighting off four would be tricky. Much better to slip out while they were all asleep.
It seemed that luck was still not on my side, though. I had hardly closed my eyes when Hartley returned, carrying a loaf of (at least) day-old bread and a leather bottle filled with water. I shared the bread with the others (luckily, I didn’t see any mould), but passed on the water. I still had some in the bottle I had brought with me, and would sneak a drink later. The last thing I needed right now was dysentery from London water.
As soon as the sun neared the horizon, Hartley yelled at the three girls I had not yet spoken to, telling them to “get to work”. They quietly headed for the door.
He turned to the fourth girl. “Jess, you’ll stay in tonight and keep an eye on the new one. Don’t want her getting any idears.” He glared at me, then followed the others out the door.
I did briefly have an “idear” of overcoming Jess – at least I knew her name now – and getting away, but I reasoned that the market would be closed by now, and I would likely just get in more trouble being out alone at night. Besides, I was exhausted after the day I had been through. So after a few minutes I curled up on the floor and slowly drifted off.
It must have been several hours later when I was suddenly awakened by the clanging of bells. It was pitch black, and for a moment I had no idea where I was. Then it all rushed back: London, 1666, Hartley, oh-no-it-wasn’t-a-nightmare.
I sat up and reached for Jess, shaking her when I found her arm. “What’s going on? What is all the noise?”
Her voice was half-asleep. “Just a fire. They happen all the time. Go back to sleep.”
Oh, no! This wasn’t just a fire, I was sure of it. It was the fire. The Great Fire. I jumped up and ran for the door.
“Get back here!” Now Jess was awake, more worried about me escaping than about the fire.
“I’m not going anywhere. I just want to see how close the fire is. I’m really afraid of fire.” Well, I was afraid of this one, anyway.
Together we opened the door, and as soon as we did we both knew it was bad. The air was filled with smoke, people were yelling, and we could see huge flames only a few streets away.
Jess froze. To be fair, I had the advantage on her in this, since I knew it was going to happen, if not when. To her it was a complete shock. I pulled her into the alley. “Come on, we have to get out of here!”
She pulled back. “We can’t. Hartley will kill us when he comes back!”
“Jess, he isn’t coming back. This place is going to burn down, and I’m not going to be in it when it does. Now come on!”
She came with me to the end of the alley, but absolutely refused to go any further. I know that few people actually died in the fire, and hope that Jess escaped once it got closer, but that was the last time I saw her. She was more afraid of Hartley than she was of fire.
Once I reached the end of the alley, I wasn’t sure which way to go. I needed the cuff to get out of here, but it was in the direction of the fire, and all of my instincts told me to run the other way. In addition, the street was jammed with people, animals and the occasional cart, all headed away from the fire. I wasn’t sure that I could head toward Pudding Lane if I wanted to.
Fear of being stuck in 1666 forever won out. Staying against the buildings at the side of the street, I began to edge my way slowly toward Pudding Lane. A couple of people tried to steer me the other way, but most ignored me, caught up in their own problems.
At least I could see where I was going. It wasn’t yet dawn, but the flames provided more than enough light, and the breeze kept the amount of smoke to a reasonable level. Unfortunately, that same breeze would help spread the fire, but that wasn’t my problem.
I had made it about a block going against the crowd when I felt a man’s hand take my arm firmly. Thinking it was another helper trying to turn me around, I attempted to shrug him off, but he wouldn’t let go. Then I heard my name.
“Angela! Angela, it’s me!” I stopped dead. That sounded exactly like Miriam! I turned, and it was Miriam. Standing beside her, with one hand on my arm and the other on hers, was a tall, red-haired man who was obviously blind. I wasn’t sure who he was at first, but Miriam cleared that up.
“This is Jonathan. He is the one who invented the cuff, and loaned it to me. When he found out that you had come here alone he nearly flipped, and said that we had to come and get you.”
“Thank goodness for that”, I said. “But there’s a big problem. The cuff was stolen, and ...”
Jonathan spoke for the first time. “Don’t worry about that. We have it. The cuff has a tracker in it, and we found it hours ago. It was you we had trouble locating. I had just assumed the cuff and the traveller would be in the same place.”
“Yeah, well, I’d like that, and I’d like that place to be far from here. Can we get going?”
Of course, it was a bit more complicated than that. Even in the midst of a disaster, we couldn’t exactly disappear in front of dozens of people, so we kept a tight hold on each other so that we didn’t get separated, and made our way to the city gates.
About an hour later, outside of London and behind a clump of trees, we were able to activate the cuffs. Everything went white, and moments later we were standing in my apartment.
Miriam guided Jonathan to a chair, while I poured each of us a drink. I didn’t know if they needed it, but I certainly did.
I gave them a detailed and probably slightly hysterical account of everything that had happened to me, and how I came to be separated from the cuff. Jonathan explained how the cuff worked, and how it could take someone to a specific place and time. He lost me after about five minutes, but I’m sure it was fascinating if you had a couple of degrees in physics.
When everyone was all caught up Miriam said “Well, you did get to see London before the Great Fire. What was the most important thing that you learned?”
“Oh, that’s easy”, I said. Miriam leaned forward, looking intrigued.
“The whole ‘men used to be such gentlemen’ thing is bullshit.”
Karen is a Canadian writer, reader, cat lover and history buff who enjoys being able to combine as many of these as possible. She recently retired from a dull job, and hopes to have more time to write in the future.
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This drew me in almost immediately - great stuff!
I was really quite impressed, Good job , keep going!!