A Plague of Bogles by Catherine Jinks

Author:Catherine Jinks
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

18

The Bluecoat Boys

“What’s this?” said Alfred.

He had stopped to peer down at a grating in the middle of the schoolyard. Mrs. Kerridge, who was walking ahead of him, turned and answered, “That’s the Ditch. We call this entire playground the Ditch.” She gestured at the wide expanse of cobblestones, which was flanked on all four sides by large, handsome buildings. “It covers the ditch that used to surround London in the old days. Now the ditch is merely a drain, of course.”

Alfred gave a grunt. Beside him, Jem eyed the grating nervously, wondering how many bogles were lurking beneath it. One? Two?

A hundred?

“Over there are the Grammar and Mathematical Schools,” Mrs. Kerridge went on, flapping her hand first at one massive wing, then at another. These great piles of stone looked very stern and imposing in the gray, wintry light. But the boys weaving in and out of their arched doorways looked ridiculous—or so Jem thought. He was thankful that he didn’t have to wear yellow stockings or a silly blue tunic.

With a pang of dismay, he remembered the matron’s promise to find him a new coat. Surely it wouldn’t be one of these strange, old-fashioned smocks?

“Must the boys wear their uniforms out on the street?” he couldn’t help asking. Mrs. Kerridge studied him for a moment. Now that she was back in her own little kingdom, she seemed more formidable than ever. Her cheeks were ruddy, her step was brisk, and her gray hair lay flat on her temples, like thin slabs of iron, beneath the starched pleats of her cap.

“A boy must wear his uniform even during his holidays,” she finally declared. Seeing Jem wrinkle his nose, she added, “It builds character to be constantly fighting off the taunts of apprentices and errand boys.”

Jem wasn’t so sure about that, but he made no comment. It was Alfred who said, “Where do the boys sleep?”

Mrs. Kerridge motioned to an elaborate stone gateway at the southern end of the quadrangle. “The dormitories are through there, off the cloisters.”

“And the kitchen?” asked Alfred.

“Under the Great Hall. I’ll show you.”

The Great Hall was an enormous Gothic structure that looked like a church. It had stone buttresses, a tower at each corner, and ranks of stained-glass windows three stories high. As they approached the building, Mrs. Kerridge explained that its back wall stood in the London Ditch, and that it was sitting over the cellars of the old Greyfriars refectory. “There’s a lot of cellar space under the hall,” she said. “I’ve heard tell that runaway boys were once placed in dungeons, where they were chained up and poorly fed. But that was sixty years ago, before the hall was built. So it’s hard to say whether the cellars and dungeons are one and the same.” Suddenly she stopped in her tracks. “Master Ferris!” she rapped out. “What have you there, pray?”

She was addressing a large boy of about fifteen, whose wispy fair curls were at odds with his big, beefy head.

“A stick, Matron,” he mumbled.

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