Claws of Evil 1 Page 19
A lopsided grin spread right across his face as he remembered the hail that he had brought from the sky, and the expression on Carter’s face when the stones had started cracking him on the head. Ben wiggled his fingers experimentally and wondered what else they could do.
Although his body was absolutely freezing, he felt warm on the inside like he never had before. And he felt proud of the choice that he had made, to be the Right Hand, not the Left.
The boy done good, he thought contentedly.
And he was especially pleased that he had outwitted Claw Carter.
He tapped his pocket just to check. Still there.
It wasn’t the real Coin that he had thrown into the Thames, of course. He had tricked them all. It was the mouldy old farthing that he’d had all the time.
Ben smiled.
Ain’t life grand.
Scars were good, in Claw Carter’s opinion. They reminded you of mistakes not to be made again. Defeat was good too, because it sharpened a man’s desire to win the next bout.
If the Coin had been denied him, then he needed a new weapon and he knew where to look to find one. Carter had not left the Dark Library for days. He couldn’t remember when he had last eaten, although he knew that Ruby Johnson was at his beck and call, bringing him sandwiches of rare and bloody beef.
He turned a dry page that had lain ignored for decades.
Upon the summoning of the Nightmare Child, he read.
Happy New Year, Benjamin Kingdom. Enjoy it while you may.
Ben gazed up at the Tower of London and shuddered. It was a cold monument with a dark and bloodstained history and he was afraid that the Legion were about to write their own gruesome chapter. The crown jewels were no longer here; they were gone along with the Queen and the entire company of yeoman wardens. Only the ravens had remained, joined by hundreds of Legionnaires gathered for the Feast. Mr. Sweet’s voice echoed across the courtyard and Ben listened in silence, his hands tied behind his back and a big fat guard at his side. He was a prisoner, awaiting his fate...
OUT SEPTEMBER 2013
ISBN: 9781409546245
EPUB: 9781409557357 KINDLE: 9781409557364
AN UNORTHODOX GLOSSARY FOR SOME OF THE MORE UNUSUAL WORDS TO BE FOUND IN THIS BOOK.
ballast heaver: big blokes paid to lift very heavy goods (ballast) into the holds of ships to improve stability.
billycock: a felt hat with a low, rounded crown, like a bowler. The best sort of hat there is.
bobby: a police officer, named after Robert “Bobby” Peel, founder of the Metropolitan Police in 1829.
brougham carriage: a light, four-wheeled horse-drawn carriage. The footplate provides an excellent free ride for those who are light of foot and empty of pocket, like me.
bullseye lantern: oil-fuelled, usually handheld, lantern with a round glass face like a bullseye (great for skulking).
chancer: a con man or crafty opportunist.
coal-whipper: someone who unloads coal out of the hold of a ship. A very mucky business indeed.
cooper: a maker or repairer of barrels and casks.
lascar: a sailor or militiaman from India, Burma, Ceylon and other lands, now employed on European ships.
his nibs: what we call stuck-up toffs who think they’re more intelligent and more important than they really are.
monkeyshines: mischievous or playful tricks – good stuff!
mudlark: someone, usually an underappreciated boy, who makes a living scavenging in river mud for items of value. It does mean you get to keep the richest pickings for yourself though.
privy: outdoor loo/bog, usually located in a small shed away from the main living quarters (because they stink!).
road-apple: a big steaming dollop of horse manure. Recommended as a makeshift (but messy) weapon in emergencies.
rookery: an overcrowded, under-sanitised city slum. Your home, if you are poor and unlucky. Rookeries have nicked their name from the nesting habits of rooks, great crow-like birds who live crammed into noisy colonies in the treetops.
snuff it: to die, kick the bucket, give up the ghost, etc. It happens a lot in Victorian London, hence why we have so many ways of saying it.
skylark: to mess about, play tricks and have a good time.
tosher: a filthy type who makes a living scavenging in the sewers. Easily identified by their stench.
P. S. Toshers’ dogs are even dirtier than their owners.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Writing this book has been a pleasure from start to finish and I have been supported, guided and loved by some wonderful people every step of the way.
Special thanks go to Gideon McCubbine... if you hadn’t been in my class I might never have met your mum, the talented and generous editor, Helen Greathead. Thank you, Helen, for the hours you kindly spent editing your son’s teacher’s homework. Thank you too, for introducing me to my agent, the marvellous Anne Finnis. Thank you, Anne, for everything that you have done to help my lifelong dream come true. Thanks also to the incredible Caroline Hill-Trevor, for taking Ben’s battles to lands near and far. This is where the adventure starts!
One glance at the beautiful cover of this book is testament to the skill and love that many talented people have poured into it. My thanks go out to Rebecca Hill for finding a home for Ben Kingdom with Usborne, Hannah Cobley for her outstanding cover design, and my cover artist and illustrator, David Wyatt, for bringing the world of the Watchers to such vivid life. Special thanks also to my editor, Stephanie King. Stephanie, you have been Ben’s first champion; your insight and enthusiasm have made this book better than I could have ever managed on my own. Thank you all.
I’m a family man and so I have to end by thanking the people who fill my life with joy. Mum and Dad, this book would not have been possible without you; I owe you so much. Amanda, you always knew I’d make it one day; I haven’t forgotten. Mum and Jack, thank you for cheering me on. Ben and Lucy, being your dad is the proudest achievement of my life; you make me smile every day. My darling Julie, I don’t have enough words to say how much I love you. And to the one who set me on this path all those years ago. I love you all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Andrew Beasley was born in Hertfordshire, and has spent most of his life with his nose buried in a book.
As a student he read law in Bristol, but was disappointed to discover that life as a lawyer wasn’t as exciting as books had led him to believe. He then spent a number of years travelling extensively across Europe for work, although he didn’t see much of it because he was usually reading a book.
Andrew is now a primary school teacher, where he shares his passion for storytelling with his class. Andrew lives in Cornwall with his wife and their two children, Ben and Lucy. The Claws of Evil is his debut novel.
THE BATTLES CONTINUE AT
WWW.BENKINGDOM.COM