My Dear Lady Misericordia,

I hope this letter finds you well. I genuinely, really do. I hope both you and Viscount Fox are well and happy and I wish you both congratulations on your engagement.

Perhaps once upon a time the news of your wedding in your last letter might have upset me, but I have realised that I can now echo the spirit, if not the actual content of your father’s words when he heard the news:

“I should have known. Those two deserve each other.”

In fact I have realised a good many things in the last day, some startling and simply startlingly obvious. I have realised, for example, that the man I have been calling Alf, is not really called Alf. I have realised why the Professor has brought us here. I have realised, finally, exactly who our host is, although I hardly believe it. I have realised… well, I am getting ahead of myself, rather.

Has it really only been a day? It seems like a lifetime ago, an age, so much has happened since then. So much has changed.

I think I sent my last letter yesterday morning, the morning after our strange night-time encounter with Oxshott. I must admit that I slept very badly that night. I had become accustomed to sharing a tent with Harry and to suddenly find myself in a foreign bedroom, all on my own, knowing that there was a murderous madman on the prowl outside, did not put me into the most serene state of mind.

Alone in bed

However badly I slept, there was no time for tiredness the next day. If Oxshott genuinely intended to attack Joulutontti that night that it was our duty to everything we could to stop him. While Lord Daunt and the Professor  did not believe that the threat was genuine, they promised, of course, to help if anything happened.

It was up to Harry and I, then, to prepare any defences we thought might help stop Oxshott in his crazed career.  We had already been promised what help we might need by Alf and the other workers who were ready to do anything that might keep their master safe.

Nicholas, our host, however, had other ideas.

“Absolutely not, oh no, not all, no time, no time at all.”

“No time?” I wondered. I had just outlined some of my plans to him over breakfast and he was evidently appalled.

“Quite, no time at all. Almost there, you know, and not a man to spare, not one. Toys, that’s what we need and lots of them.”

“But, sir!”

“Nicholas.”

“But, Nicholas, I am sure Oxshott means every word he says. We need to be ready for him.”

“No, no. We need to be making toys, not playing at soldiers. We can worry about your friend later.”

Harry started to object, but a light had dawned in my mind.

“It may be, sir, that we can do both.”

Timothy and Nicholas

“Aha! I recognise that face!” Nicholas began to laugh, “We’re in real trouble now, Harry, he’s got an idea! Oh dear, yes, we’re in trouble now. You carry on, young Timothy, you’ll be alright.”

And he strode from the room, chuckling to himself.

I quickly outlined my idea to Harry. It seemed to me that Joulutontti had no real defences – there were many buildings scattered all around, many ways in through doors and windows and so many connecting passageways that it would be impossible to defend all of them.

What’s more, Baronet Oxshott was a seasoned hunter and campaigner. Harry and I, or any of the workers, wouldn’t stand a chance of keeping up with him in the open. Our only chance was to actually let him get inside and then to trap him there, to keep him in one place where we could try to overwhelm him.

Our real disadvantage came in that we had no weapons to speak of. There didn’t seem to be a single thing in the place beyond Lord Daunt’s pistol and my penknife. What there was, however, was lots of toys.

Carving a horse

Toy soldiers, toy horses, toy cannons, toy balloons, toy popguns, toy bows and toy arrows. An awful lot of toys that could, perhaps, with a little ingenuity and cunning, be made to work as weapons too.

And so Harry and I set to work. It was an odd task to be undertaking in that merry place – for it was merry, even in the workshops. The workers were genuinely happy at their work, turning out their wonderful toys and extraordinary devices, singing and talking as they did so, or rushing to and fro on errands and missions.

We soon began to get an idea of the layout of the place. In addition to the several large rooms, full of equipment, which hummed with industry all day long, there were any number of smaller workshops and rooms scattered all through the buildings, like the shops of craftsmen in any busy town.

Here were families of carpenters, hot and busy forges, attics of seamstresses and basements of chemical inventors. Everywhere we went we found extraordinary craftsmen and women, working away diligently, cheerfully, creating marvellous and delightful toys by the handful.

And there we were, guided by Alf and Tom, stooping through the low rooms, searching out these wonderful things and turning them into weapons of war. But every time I found myself getting distracted by a jack-in-the-box or regretting this terrible state of affairs, I simply reminded myself that if we failed, Oxshott may well carry out murder of the most awful kind. We simply must not fail.

Practising with a bow

So we put clockwork in the tin soldiers and sharpened their bayonets, we used the steam from the model trains to power pea shooters mounted on their boilers, we dipped the sucker tips of toy arrows in itching powder, we took everything we could lay our hands on and wracked our brains as to how to use it to stop Oxshott.

But work as we might, we could not hold back the hands of the clock. The day seemed to pass too quickly and we soon found ourselves gathering what we had created into the dining hall as the everyone else gathered for supper.

Nicholas greeted us with amusement.

“Stop all that fussing and come and have something to eat, you two, you must be famished,” he ushered us to our seats, although I, for one, was feeling so nervous about what the night might bring, that I could barely think of food.

“I do like these clockwork soldiers,” he knelt down between the tables and wound one up, letting it march along the flagstones as the people around him watched, “Simply marvellous, have you seen these, your Lordship?”

Soon both he and Lord Daunt were on their hands and knees among the eating workers, arranging their soldiers into ranks and preparing their artillery.

The generals and their troops

“I say, Hope,” offered Daunt from under a chair, “These steam powered peashooter things are really quite a thing.” His head popped up from behind a table, “Imagine one full size – an armoured engine with a steam-powered gun, quite a thing, eh? Quite a thing. Smart thinking, lad, smart thinking.” And he disappeared once again.

Harry and I watched them open-mouthed, unable to understand how anyone could play so happily with toys knowing that the madman Oxshott could attack us at any moment. And, indeed, before Nicholas or his Lordship  could even try any small skirmishes, a terrified worker came rushing into the room and ran to Nicholas to whisper in his ear.

“Ah,” he said, straightening up, “Apparently someone has broken into the stables. I think perhaps your friend has come to visit us again. I don’t suppose you’d like to see what he wants?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” I said, “I already know – Quick: to your places!”

At this all the assembled workers jumped up and, following orders from Alf and Tom, cleared the long tables away to either side of the hall, upending them to make shields of the table tops, lining a corridor down the middle of the room with wooden walls, as more of them clambered up the columns up to the galleries that overhung three sides of the room.

The toy army

As the tables went Daunt’s and Nicholas’ toy armies were revealed – two wings of clockwork soldiers, steam driven artillery and tin cavalry drawn up in serried ranks, facing the doors. And in the middle knelt Nicholas, still arranging horsemen into a V formation, ready for the charge.

Harry and I had swept the cutlery and place settings from our top table and turned it over in the archway that led to Nicholas’s smaller dining room, sealing off the room as a last line of defence. I leant over the barrier and called  to our host.

“Nicholas! Back here, behind the table – it’ll be the safest place!”

“But I’ll miss the battle,” he replied, smiling, and then gestured to Alf, “One moment, please.”

He whispered something to the little man who nodded and scurried away out of the room carrying a plate of food. Soon, however, I felt a breeze of cold air that must mean a door had been opened somewhere – thank goodness! At least he was taking the danger seriously enough to prepare an escape route.

Nicholas showed no signs of wanting to escape, though, as he continued shuffling toy soldiers about on the floor. All else was silent apart from the clicking as he wound up the clockwork. The workers, hidden behind their wooden walls, held their breath, waiting, listening for whatever was coming.

And it was coming, we could hear it – at first nothing more than a dim, far off banging and crashing, but gradually the sound came nearer. Something heavy and careless was coming blundering through Joulutontti and it was singing as it came.

At first I thought it was just a roaring, howling noise, but gradually I began to make out words, if not really quite a tune. Words bellowed with a ghastly cheerfulness, the same refrain, repeated over and over again.

“All I want for Christmas is his two front teeth, his two front teeth, his two front teeth. All I want for Christmas is his two front teeth, his two front teeth, his two front teeth…”

And then with a resounding rattle and boom the doors to the dining hall burst open and there, monstrous in the flaring light, stood Oxshott.

Oxshott arrives

If possible he looked even more wild than he had the previous evening. His hair and beard were now rimed with frost, so that a jagged crown of icicles stuck out around his head, glittering. The fur lining of his clothes stuck out all over, making him look like some wooly wild man of the mountains. Steam rose of him in the warm room, wreathing him in a mist that moved with him, curling about his legs, making him seem to appear in a puff of smoke, like an evil magician in a pantomime.

He stopped in the doorway, appearing not to notice the walls of wood or the toy army, having eyes only for Nicholas as the old man knelt in the middle of the room.

“You!” Oxshott roared, “I’ve changed my mind! I don’t want a train set anymore! I want your head!” and with that, he leapt forward into the room.

Baronet Oxshott

“Nicholas!” I shouted and, without thinking, clambered over the table top and fell into the dining hall, scrambling towards our new friend, desperate to pull him back to safety.

Behind me, fortunately, I heard Harry, with much greater presence of mind than I, shout out: “Open fire!” and at that our allies swing into action.

A shower of arrows

Down from the galleries all around us dropped a storm of paper planes, all tipped with the sharp points from compass sets, all swooping down towards Oxshott in a great white flurry. For a moment he disappeared in a rustling cloak of paper, but then, with a thunderous yell, he shook them all off, leaving himself spotted about with little red dots of pin pricks.

Then a great shower of arrows sprang up from behind the tables, curving over our heads at him, covering him, with each hit, in a light dusting of itching powder. But this only made him more angry, and he flicked them away,  roaring and shaking his head wildly.

Finally Nicholas released the steam driven cannons around him and they puffed forward, popping out hard peas that rattled off the ice that sheathed Oxshott with a sound like gravel on glass. Growling he waded forward as the clockwork soldiers stabbed at his ankles, kicking out left and right and sending tin horses and riders scattering across the flagstones.

As Oxshott advanced, I finally got hold of Nicholas’ coat and tried to drag him back, away from the lunatic, but the man must have been rooted to the spot with fear, as he wouldn’t budge. There was nothing for it and I quickly scrambled in front of him, shielding him with my body, as Oxshott, snorting out steam like an engine, came stomping up to us.

“Out of my way, teacher!” he roared, his face savage and contorted.

“Never,” I gulped.

Oxshott’s face twisted into a smile.

“A brave teacher! Well, I never. That’ll make an interesting head for my collection!” and with that he slapped me across the face with the back of his hand, sending me sprawling back against Nicholas’ broad chest.

Then he reached behind him and pulled out from his belt a long, keen machete that sparkled with ice all along it’s blade.

“Lift your chin up, man!” he yelled, “I want to try and do this in one blow!”

“You’ll have to go through me first!” shouted a voice and, to my horror, Harry leapt over the table wall and leapt in between us, glaring at Oxshott in defiance.

Oxshott laughed in his face.

“You think I’d worry about killing a boy?” he snarled.

“Perhaps not,” said Harry, “But what about… a woman?” And with that he swept off his cap and down fell a great glowing sweep of red hair. And in that moment I realised where I had seen Harry before. Harry wasn’t Harry at all, she was Henrietta, Professor Cumulus’ daughter!

Harry! or Henrietta!

Oxshott reeled back in surprise. In fact, I think everyone did. I certainly heard Lord Daunt gasp and the Professor himself shout out in fright. But I had no time to think about them. I had just had one of the realisations that I spoke about earlier and, without a moments hesitation, sprang forward, catching hold of Henrietta, the marvellous, brave Henrietta, and pushing her behind me.

A Bear!

Oxshott shook his head and gathered himself.

“Teachers, schoolgirls, none of you can stop me!” he snarled, “Nothing can stop me now!” And he roared like a bear.

No, no, he didn’t. He stood, frozen to the spot and something else roared again, like a bear. Just like a bear. Just like, in fact, the gigantic polar bear that reared up behind him in the doorway, snuffing the air. Then it dropped to all fours again with a thump that rocked the room and roared once more.

Oxshott swung round, a crazed look in his eye, but before he could raise his machete, the bear, with an off hand, careless movement, swung out with one massive paw and punched him neatly on the nose.

Swipe!

The Baronet went flying sideways, bouncing off an upturned table and collapsing, headlong among the ruins of the defeated tin army on the floor.

The bear sniffed at him, curiously, but then turned its head as someone whistled from the corridor behind it, and there was Alf, carrying a steaming pot of stew. The bear turned with astonishing adroitness in such a large creature and shambled after him as Alf lead away, out of the room.

A sudden silence flooded the room after the tempest of the battle, then only noise the ticking of fallen soldiers and the hissing of crushed artillery.

Luring the bear with soup

And in that silence, Baronet Oxshott raised his bloodied head and said:

Roderick and the train

“Hallo, I’m Roderick. Is that your steam engine? I’ve always wanted one of them. Can I have a go?”

And I felt a small, woman’s hand slip into mine and welcome head of red hair on my shoulder as the room burst into thunderous applause.

Well, my Lady, I’m sure you can guess the rest. What I have only realised since then, Henrietta assures me that she guessed long ago, so I can only assume that women’s intuition is far superior to plodding male reasoning.

We didn’t celebrate last night, of course, Oxshott’s shenanigans had already set us back on our timetable and we had a lot of toys to repair and restore ready for Nicholas’ big night tonight.

You’ll have guessed about that, I suppose, too. I must say I think its rather unfair of Henrietta to laugh at me quite so much about that, after all, I could hardly be expected to have known it was, well, him, even if her father was so sure that he was willing to bring all this way to try and find out how his sleigh worked.

You’ll also probably have noticed how I said ‘our timetable’ there. The truth is, I won’t be returning with your father and Professor Cumulus when Nicholas brings them back to you. Nicholas has offered Henrietta and I a place working with him and I’m pleased to say we have accepted.

And I’m even more pleased to say that that’s not the only offer that Henrietta has accepted today. So that now I have congratulated you on your engagement, you can congratulate me on mine. Henrietta Hope has rather a lovely ring to it, don’t you think.

The Happy Couple

Anyway, I don’t really have time to write much more, as I have to go and persuade Roderick to let me have to toy train he is playing with so that we can put it in his stocking for the morning – Nicholas seems to have decided that he can have it now.

And there are, of course, reindeer to be harnessed, lists of names to be checked, packages to be packaged and toys to be wrapped and a thousand and one things to do and prepare, tonight of all nights.

Yours

from Lapland on Christmas Eve,

Timothy Hope

PS ‘Tom’ isn’t his name at all, its a title, apparently: ‘Tomte’ in their language. And ‘Alf’ is just how they pronounce ‘Elf’ but I expect you had guessed that.

PPS And a very Merry Christmas to you all!