Charlie Bone and the Hidden King (Children of the Red King)

by Jenny Nimmo

Charlie allowed himself to feel tired, but before he went to sleep he asked Billy if he’d like to come home with him on Saturday night.

  ‘No thanks,’ mumbled Billy. ‘I think I’ll stay here. I’ve never seen a Grand Ball.’

  Charlie hadn’t seen a Grand Ball either, but nothing could have persuaded him to spend another night in Bloor’s Academy.

  The following morning, the boys’ breakfast was interrupted by a tall man with a bald head and a large ginger moustache. Putting his head round the door of the blue canteen, he said, ‘Ah. Not in here, then?’

  ‘What were you looking for, sir?’ asked Charlie through a mouthful of cornflakes.

  ‘Don’t speak with your mouth full,’ snapped Ginger Whiskers.

  Cook emerged from the kitchen and the stranger said, ‘You look a reasonably sensible woman. Where is the meeting hall?’

  Cook glared at the man, indignantly puffing out her chest, ‘I’ve no doubt at all that I’m a lot more sensible than you. You should have turned right, not left.’

  Ginger Whiskers withdrew his head and closed the door with an irritable click.

  ‘Headmasters!’ muttered Cook. ‘No manners at all. Think they’re gods. And some of them just can’t resist showing off. I’ve had enough of shape-shifters, vanishers and hocus-pocusers. They vanish the food, send it into the air, change it into chocolate or whatever takes their fancy and some even tinker with the china, just because they’ve got a preference for gold or silver. Well, they’ll have to restrain themselves tonight. The mayor can’t stand that sort of thing.’

  The boys had been unaware of the enchantments going on while they had been under the table, and were very sorry to have missed them. But they hadn’t missed everything.

  ‘Cook,’ Charlie lowered his voice, ‘Miss Chrystal is –’

  ‘I know, Charlie. I heard. I can’t talk about it now! They’ll all be here in a minute. All the heads. They’ll start in the theatre and then there’ll be meetings all over the place; some in the classrooms, some in the gym. I don’t know where you two are going to go.’

  The boys soon found out. They were on their way back to the dormitory when they walked straight into Manfred Bloor.

  ‘What are you two doing here?’ barked Manfred.

  ‘We don’t know where else to go,’ said Billy.

  ‘Out!’ Manfred pointed to the main staircase.

  ‘Out?’ said Charlie. ‘Till when?’

  ‘Until I come and get you,’ said Manfred.

  There was no point in arguing. Charlie and Billy reluctantly walked back to the stairs where they looked down on a great crowd of headmasters and headmistresses. Some were still showing off. Charlie spotted a donkey and a bear, and watched an ostrich change into a yellow-robed woman. A man in a black coat vanished into thin air, and there was a giant lizard hanging from a beam.

  Charlie and Billy cautiously descended into the hall. Once there, they had to push their way through the gabbling mass. No rule of silence for them, Charlie noted. No one paid any attention to the two boys fighting their way towards the cloakrooms, until they came face to face with the man in the blue turban.

  ‘Aha, we meet again,’ said Blue Turban, smiling broadly. He put a finger to his lips and winked at Charlie. ‘Good luck!’

  A large woman pushed Charlie sideways and before he knew it, the man in the blue turban had disappeared into the crowd.

  ‘Who was that?’ asked Billy, when they were safe inside the blue cloakroom.

  ‘He saw me under the table last night. But he didn’t give me away.’ Charlie pulled on his coat and boots.

  ‘So they really aren’t all bad. He didn’t look like a headmaster, did he?’ Billy sat on a bench to untie his shoes.

  ‘He’s foreign,’ Charlie pointed out. ‘Maybe headmasters look like that wherever he comes from.’

  As soon as they were outside, Charlie headed for the ruin. The frosty grass crunched under their feet and a freezing mist lay over the grounds. The great red arch of the ruined castle could hardly be seen.

  Billy trudged along behind Charlie, hoping it would be warmer inside the ruins. He didn’t realise that Charlie had a different purpose.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Billy stepped into the wrecked courtyard and gazed at the broken flagstones.

  ‘She was looking for the mirror, and that’s where she found it,’ Charlie pointed to the dark square of earth. ‘Miss Chrystal, the teacher we all thought was the best and kindest in the whole school.’

  ‘And she’s the worst,’ said Billy.

  ‘A witch,’ added Charlie. ‘I must warn the others, but we don’t want her to know we’re on to her.’

  ‘We’ll just be on our guard,’ said Billy.

  They scrambled down one of the five dark passages that led out of the courtyard. At the end of the passage there was a wide, grassy area, surrounded by trees and thick, broken walls. The boys sat on a wall and Charlie rubbed his cold hands together, thinking of Bartholomew Bloor. ‘The Red King is still in his castle,’ the explorer had said. ‘But he’s hidden.’

  ‘So where is he?’ Charlie said, almost to himself.

  ‘Where’s who?’ asked Billy.

  ‘The Red King. We need him, Billy.’

  A cold breeze blew into their faces and the leafless branches crackled above them. A twig snapped, and then another. Charlie turned, half-expecting Asa in his beast form to come leaping out of the bushes. But it wasn’t Asa. Standing very still, beneath one of the trees, Charlie saw a white horse.

  ‘It’s the queen,’ said Charlie softly.

  The boys slid off the wall and the queen came trotting towards them.

  ‘It’s you, it’s really you,’ said Charlie, stroking the silky white neck.

  Billy grunted and whinnied, and then the queen lowered her head to hear better the odd little hums and snorts that burst out of Billy like sneezes. She replied in her own way, with several long whinnies.

  Charlie, burning with impatience, demanded to know what the queen was saying.

  ‘I asked her if the king was here,’ said Billy, ‘and she said that he was deep, deep inside his castle. I asked her how we could reach him, and she told me that when the time came, he would be found.’

  ‘That’s all?’ Charlie was disappointed. ‘But when will the time come?’

  The white horse nuzzled Charlie’s ear, and he laid his arm over her long mane. She caressed both their heads and their faces and then, suddenly, she looked into the sky.

  There was a rumble in the air that was too sinister to be thunder. The sound was followed by a darkening sky; it was as though a heavy curtain had been pulled over the land.

  In the sombre light the queen’s eyes shone white with fear. She gave a scream, reared up and galloped away, her pounding hooves becoming ever more distant as the sound in the air turned to a deafening roar.

  Charlie and Billy tore out of the ruin. They raced across the grounds, tripping over their own feet in their hurry to reach the shelter of the school.

  ‘What’s that noise?’ panted Billy. ‘Is it an earthquake?’

  ‘P’raps it’s the end of the world,’ yelled Charlie.

  They got to the school door and found it locked. Charlie banged insistently on the hard oak panels until, at last, the door opened and Manfred looked down on them.

  ‘Scared of a bit of thunder, were you?’ Manfred said scornfully.

  ‘That’s not thunder,’ said Charlie. ‘It’s . . . it’s . . . Please, can we come in?’

  ‘You’re a nuisance, Charlie Bone, but, all right, go to your dormitory.’ Manfred stood aside and the boys leapt into the hall. It was now deserted, the heads having all dispersed to various classrooms.

  ‘It wasn’t thunder, sir,’ said Billy.

  ‘I wonder what it was, then.’ Manfred seemed to know the answer but he wasn’t about to tell them.

  ‘When is the Grand Ball, sir?’ asked Billy, feeling more courgeous now that he was inside the building.

 
‘The guests will arrive at half past seven, and you’d better keep out of the way, Billy Raven. There’ll be five hundred people coming through our doors tonight.’

  ‘Five hundred!’ Charlie exclaimed.

  ‘It’s the occasion of the decade,’ Manfred boasted. ‘The mayor will be here, and the entire town council. There will be three judges, a duke and a duchess, the owner of every large business in the city, a bishop, several chairmen, directors and presidents . . . no, not American presidents,’ said Manfred as Charlie’s mouth dropped open, ‘I mean company presidents.’

  ‘Phew!’ Charlie was grudgingly impressed.

  Manfred smiled with satisfaction. ‘Would you like to see the ballroom?’ he offered.

  The two boys wondered what had come over him. Manfred wasn’t usually this friendly. Perhaps he just couldn’t resist the temptation to impress.

  Billy said, ‘Yes, please,’ before Manfred could change his mind.

  ‘Follow me.’ Manfred unlocked the small door that led to the Music Tower. When the door opened Charlie was amazed to see the usually dim passage transformed by thick carpeting and a ceiling strung with sparkling stars.

  He had never noticed the doors into the ballroom. Now, restored to their former splendour, the arched doors gleamed with polish. Manfred gave them a little push and they opened into a room whose magnificence quite took Charlie’s breath away.

  ‘What do you think, boys?’ Manfred seemed a little breathless himself. He pressed a switch and four chandeliers hung with crystals came alive with a glittering burst of light. They were suspended from a ceiling decorated with plaster creatures. Not real, everyday creatures, but monsters: goblins, gnomes, trolls, bats with fangs, devils with forked tails, demons and wicked-looking dragons.

  Charlie struggled for words, and at length Billy came up with ‘Awesome!’

  The shining floor swept up to a stage with a grand piano in one corner and several music stands in the other. Charlie imagined the ballroom crowded with swaying figures in long dresses that sparkled in the chandelier-light.

  ‘Good, isn’t it?’ Manfred switched off the lights and hauled the boys out.

  ‘Yes,’ they agreed. ‘Great.’

  As they walked away from the ballroom, a light footstep made them all turn to look back. The piano teacher, Mr Pilgrim, appeared at the other end of the passage. Charlie was surprised to see him. He thought Mr Pilgrim had left the school.

  ‘Hello, Mr Pilgrim,’ he said.

  ‘Hello. Who . . .’ The teacher looked puzzled.

  ‘I suggest you return to the music room, Mr Pilgrim,’ Manfred said imperiously.

  ‘I thought –’

  ‘Cook will bring you some lunch.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ Mr Pilgrim nervously pushed a lock of black hair away from his pale face.

  ‘Suit yourself. Come on, boys.’ Manfred herded the boys down the passage. When they were in the hall he locked the ancient door behind him.

  ‘You’ve locked Mr Pilgrim out,’ said Charlie.

  ‘In,’ said Manfred. ‘I’ve locked him in for his own good. He can’t deal with crowds.’ He stuck out his skinny neck and stared at Charlie. ‘Take off your coats and get back to the dormitory.’

  Charlie wasn’t afraid of Manfred’s black hypnotic eyes. He stared right back and it was Manfred who looked away. He’s losing his old power, Charlie thought. But now there’s something else. What is it?

  Manfred shoved his hands in his pockets and strode away.

  Back in the dormitory, Charlie and Billy sat on their beds and waited. Their stomachs began to rumble. A whole hour to go until lunchtime. Charlie didn’t think he could last much longer without a snack. He had just decided to go and see Cook when her messenger arrived.

  Several loud barks outside the door announced Blessed’s arrival.

  ‘Food!’ Billy leapt off the bed. ‘Blessed says there’s food in the canteen.’ He opened the door and patted the old dog’s wrinkled head. ‘Thanks, Blessed.’

  In the canteen they found a pile of sandwiches sitting on a table. They could hear Cook shouting orders in the kitchen. The place seemed to be in an uproar all over again, with more than a hundred smart lunches to prepare in the dining-hall.

  When Charlie and Billy had finished their sandwiches, they looked into the kitchen, hoping for a chocolate biscuit at the very least.

  ‘In that cupboard,’ said Cook, pointing. She was very red in the face and her apron was covered in big splodges of yellow and brown. ‘And, Charlie, you’re to get your bag and go to the main doors before half-past twelve. Your uncle will pick you up.’

  ‘Uncle Paton? But he can’t. He never . . .’

  ‘He’ll have to,’ puffed Cook. ‘No one else is available. I’m told it’s all been arranged. Now, off you go!’

  Grabbing their chocolate bars, the two boys backed out. Charlie looked at his watch. It was twenty minutes past twelve. He had ten minutes to pack his bag and get to the main doors.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?’ asked Charlie, as they raced up to the dormitory.

  ‘I want to see the ladies in their ballgowns,’ said Billy. ‘Then I can tell you all about it.’ He didn’t add that he wanted to imagine one of the beautiful dancing figures was his mother.

  Mr Weedon was waiting in the hall when Charlie came clattering downstairs with his bag. There was one minute to go.

  ‘Nearly didn’t make it, did you, Charlie Bone?’ Mr Weedon had the sort of sneery tone that always made Charlie want to say something rude. But he was a little afraid of the bald, muscle-bound porter. If he said the wrong thing now, Mr Weedon was quite capable of locking him in a storeroom, or worse.

  ‘Thank you,’ Charlie managed to say, as the burly porter slid back the bolts and unlocked the door.

  ‘Haven’t opened it yet, have I?’ mocked Mr Weedon.

  ‘No, sir.’

  Mr Weedon opened one of the doors a fraction. Charlie squeezed through the gap and ran across the courtyard. He bounded down the steps into the cobbled square, almost falling off the last one, he was so happy to see Uncle Paton’s car parked at the end of the square.

  Uncle Paton didn’t hear Charlie’s joyful shouts. He was wearing his dark glasses and appeared to be completely engrossed in the newspaper on his lap.

  ‘Uncle Paton!’ Charlie wrenched open the car door and slid into the passenger seat. ‘I’m here.’

  Uncle Paton looked up. ‘So you are.’ He gave Charlie a faint smile.

  ‘Is everything all right? I mean Maisie. Has she . . . Is she . . .?’

  ‘No change there, I’m afraid,’ Uncle Paton sighed.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to come out in daylight. Did you have any accidents?’

  ‘None so far.’ Paton started the engine. He seemed distracted.

  ‘Are you OK, Uncle P?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Me? Yes, I’m fine. It’s just . . . well, I’m worried about your mother, Charlie.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Charlie in alarm.

  ‘She’s going to the Grand Ball.’

  ‘Mum?’ Charlie couldn’t believe it. ‘How on earth? They’d never let her. Who’s she going with? My mum? She can’t be.’

  ‘Well, she is.’ Paton put his foot down and they bumped over the cobbles and out of the square.

  Bartholomew’s diaries

  Uncle Paton insisted on taking a route that would avoid any traffic lights. There had been instances when one glance at a red light had resulted in a shower of glass.

  Charlie found it difficult to be patient. He kept throwing questions at his uncle, who seemed to have no answers, though he did know that Amy’s invitation had come from Kingdom’s, the store that had provided the fatal prawns.

  ‘Maybe they’re trying to make it up to her, for Maisie’s accident,’ said Charlie.

  Uncle Paton shook his head. ‘Maisie’s trouble was no accident. It was meant to put me out of action. And your mother’s behaviour these last few days leads me to bel
ieve that this invitation means a great deal more to her than mere compensation. She’s positively glowing.’

  ‘Glowing?’ Charlie had never heard the word applied to his mother.

  ‘You’ll see what I mean in a minute.’ Paton drew up outside number nine. ‘Your mother’s not at work today.’

  Charlie was out of the car and up the steps before his uncle could reach for his key. As soon as he was in the hall, Charlie cried, ‘Mum! Mum!’ at the top of his voice.

  Grandma Bone stepped smartly out of the kitchen and barked, ‘Quiet! You’re too old to be calling for your mother like that.’

  ‘I want her to know that I’m back,’ said Charlie, leaping up the stairs before his grandmother could stop him.

  He found his mum in her little room at the top of the house. The ballgown was the first thing he saw when he opened the door. It hung on the wardrobe, a deep, gleaming blue, with thin straps, a tight waist and a long flaring skirt.

  ‘D’you like it, Charlie?’ Amy Bone looked up from her dressing table. Her hair was different. It was glossy and smooth with streaks of a lighter blonde.

  ‘Mum, why are you going to this ball?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Charlie, don’t look so solemn.’ Amy Bone’s new glowing face smiled at him from her mirror. ‘I want to have some fun. I want to go out and sparkle again.’ She was gleamy and glittery and not her old self at all.

  Charlie swallowed hard and asked, ‘Who are you going with?’

  ‘Mr Noble. He’s the new owner at Kingdom’s. Such a nice man. You’d like him, Charlie.’

  ‘Like him? Why should I?’

  ‘He’s good to me, Charlie. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? He makes me feel special.’ Her voice took on a dreamy quality. ‘He uses such wonderful words.’

  Charlie went up to the blue dress and touched the slippery material. It felt bewitched. ‘Has Aunt Venetia been at this dress?’

  ‘Oh, Charlie, of course not. I bought it at Kingdom’s. I watched the girl pack it myself.’

  ‘Must have cost a bomb,’ Charlie muttered.

  ‘It was a gift,’ his mother said shyly.

  A trap more like, thought Charlie. ‘You can’t leave Maisie,’ he blurted out. ‘Not all frozen. You said you couldn’t.’