The spectacle of this second monstrous apparition, to say nothing of his earlier cognition of mortality, was too much for young Harry. With a cry of surprise laced liberally with fear, he turned and ran down the hall – away from the lizard woman and the maid.
Harry’s flight took him past the main staircase and into the rearmost area of the house that would normally have been the domain of the servants. While he lacked foreknowledge of the domestic topography, by some instinct Harry found himself in the scullery from whence an outer door opened into the backyard.
But it was not all to be plain sailing, for there was another individual already at work in the scullery. Elbow-deep in an enameled sink, the squat figure of Strax was to be found engaged in the latter stages of washing dishes. A pile of broken crockery stacked precariously on the drainer bore witness to his particular unsuitability for the task.
Harry spared no time to ponder on the allocation of household chores and hurried past Strax and out through the door. Behind him he could hear Jenny the maid shouting for Strax to ‘Stop that boy!’ Once in the yard he spared no time negotiating the falling snow in order to find a convenient exit. This achieved, he set off along a narrow passageway that led back to the street.
Despite having not the slightest idea of where in London he might be, Harry kept running. He could hear the heavy, measured tread of Strax behind him. But the sound, like Harry’s form, was muffled and obscured by the thickening snow that had filled the air and obscured the vision as evening drew in. So it was that Harry was able to stay ahead and out of sight of his pursuers.
There was but one thought in the young lad’s mind, which was to find his way back to the workhouse. He might find himself castigated for failing to complete the sweeping of the yard, but this was likely to be preferable to remaining in the company of the Lizard Woman, the Troll and the Parlour Maid.
That said, he was in no small part grateful for the soup. This still exerted a warming sensation, which to some degree compensated for Harry’s lack of coat, this garment being left over the back of a chair in the drawing room at Paternoster Row.
It was not therefore surprising that, notwithstanding Jenny’s ministrations, he was shivering with cold and slick with a coating of snow by the time he reached a street that he recognised. Despite the thickening whiteout, Harry realised that he was not far from the workhouse. With a measure of trepidation as well as relief, he upped his pace, and before long saw the unforgiving walls of the corrective establishment rising above him.
However, at that self-same moment, he heard the clatter of a carriage on the cobbles. Fearing the worst, Harry withdrew himself into a shadowed alcove in the wall.. These worst fears were confirmed when he saw that the coachman driving the carriage was a squat, cloaked figure blessed with but three fingers on the hand in which he held the reins. From out of the carriage window, Jenny’s face peered through the falling curtain of white flakes.
Of course, Harry realised, Strax would know that there was a workhouse not two streets from where he had encountered the boy. It would not take the mind of a genius to deduce this must be where Harry was from and therefore might well return. Even if the mind of Strax was not up to this menial mental task, Jenny or the enigmatic Madame Vastra had evidently made the connection.
Another connection was also made – this one between Jenny’s eyes and the sight of Harry attempting to remain unseen in the shadow of the workhouse wall.
‘There he is,’ she said to Madame Vastra, who sat cloaked and veiled beside her within the conveyance.
Vastra raised her voice to call up to Strax. ‘Keep going to the end of the street. We cannot alarm the boy.’
‘I can,’ Strax called back. ‘Would you like me to start now?’
‘No,’ the lizard lady replied with enviable calm. ‘I would rather he was not scared for his life. We must win his trust.’
‘I thought hot soup would do that,’ Jenny opined.
‘Evidently something more is needed.’
The carriage drew to a halt. Satisfied that its form would be obscured by the omnipresent snow, Madame Vastra disembarked and led the way back to where they had seen Harry pressed back against the wall.
Of the boy, there was no sign. But two other figures – larger figures – were in evidence hurrying from the scene. Although they were vague figures glimpsed but briefly, several things were at once apparent to Jenny and Madame Vastra.
The first was that the men were in some haste, and the second that they were themselves in pursuit of another individual. Neither the lizard nor the maid were in any doubt as to who that individual might be.
‘What’s he got himself into?’ Jenny wondered.
‘I think perhaps we should find out,’ her mistress decided. ‘Tell Strax to secure the carriage, and then follow me. I shall help the boy.’
‘You think he’s in danger?’ Jenny asked.
But Vastra was already disappearing into the snow, so with a sigh Jenny turned and ran back to the waiting carriage. She quickly explained to Strax what they had witnessed.
‘I shall break out the heavy weapons,’ Strax informed her.
‘We didn’t bring any heavy weapons,’ Jenny pointed out.
‘I may have some things that could be of use,’ Strax replied. One of them turned out to be nosebags for the horses. Another was long, metallic, and very sharp.
The road that Jenny had seen Vastra take in pursuit of the two men led down towards the docks. This was not an area that Jenny would ordinarily elect to explore. Although she was certainly well able to take care of herself, there was some value, she had to admit, in Strax’s company.
Young Harry, meanwhile, would have been appreciative of any company. He had run as soon as the two men loomed out of the swirling snow. While he did not know what they intended, he was well able to discern on whom they intended to inflict it. They approached him wearing unpleasant grins, and one of them hefted a brutal-looking wooden cudgel.
Harry’s plan, formulated at the speed of fright, was to lose himself in the docks. If he was lucky, the men wished merely to give him a beating and relieve him of whatever coinage he might happen to have about his person. In that case, if he could keep ahead of them, then they were likely to search for easier pickings elsewhere.
However, it seemed from the tenacity of their pursuit that they might have more sinister intentions towards the person of Harry in particular. Worn down by the cold and his previous exertions, he was unable to escape. A calloused hand descended on Harry’s collar and snapped him violently backwards.
Both men soon had hold of Harry and seemed intent on beating him to within an inch of his young life. He found himself shoved up against a brick wall with such vigour that the breath was forced from his lungs and he doubled up, winded.
‘What did you see?’ one of the men demanded. He held the cudgel under Harry’s chin, pushing him up onto his tiptoes. His misty breath mingled with the gathering fog. ‘Tell us everything you saw.’
‘I didn’t see nothing,’ Harry exclaimed, though he had no idea to what the men were specifically referring.
‘So you did see something,’ the second man proclaimed, taking Harry’s speed of denial as an indication of a corresponding lack of veracity.
‘What – when? I dunno what you’re on about,’ Harry protested.
‘The boss won’t be very happy with you,’ the first man said. He pulled back the cudgel, ready to strike.
‘What boss?’ Harry blurted. But he was not to get an answer.
Instead there was the sound of something slicing rapidly through the heavy air. Harry braced himself for the blow. It never came. For the sound was a sword which struck the cudgel from the ruffian’s grasp and sent it clattering away across the cobbles.
Harry’s eyes opened wide in surprise.
The men turned and their own eyes also widened, but in their cases due to fear.
Madame Vastra held her sword in a fighting stance, ready to strike again. The hood of her cloak hung forward, occluding her features.
‘There’s just the one of them,’ the second ruffian said. ‘We can match her.’
‘Can’t you count?’ another voice said.
To Harry’s delight, Jenny stepped into the light, standing beside Vastra. She was poised on the balls of her feet, her hands clenched into fists and positioned ready to attack.
‘Always come prepared for battle,’ a third, rather guttural, voice added. ‘Even if you do not have time to pack heavy weaponry, experience has shown that small arms and primitive blades can be offensive.’ Strax stood with his arms folded between Vastra and Jenny.
‘You’d better go,’ Vastra said. ‘Before he gets even more offensive.’ So saying, she threw back her head so that the hood was dislodged and fell back upon her shoulders.
The sight of the lizard woman’s visage together with Strax’s ogre-esque features proved too much for the men’s depleted courage. They backed slowly away, one of them reaching to cuff Harry about the head. But the boy managed to duck beneath the blow and run to join Vastra and the others.
‘You breathe a word to anyone about what you saw and you’re dead meat,’ the thug grunted, pointing at Harry. ‘You wait till the boss finds you.’
Vastra stepped forward. ‘You harm one hair on the head of this mammal pup,’ she said, ‘and your own head will immediately be forfeit in return.’ She raised the sword by way of emphasis.
The sound of the men’s running footsteps was interrupted only by Strax’s grunt of satisfaction.
‘You are blessed with luck, small one,’ he told Harry. ‘Rejoice and give thanks – someone wants you dead.’