Edward looked at the floor. He told himself that if Randling wanted Bart dead, then there was nothing he could do to stop it. He was just a figurehead. If he didn’t give the order, Randling would do it himself. All he could do was save himself.
‘If you think his treason deserves the death penalty,’ Edward said quietly, almost whispering, ‘then . . . then so be it.’
‘No!’ cried Bart. ‘Edward. You can’t.’
Edward couldn’t look at him. Soldiers on either side pulled Bart to his feet.
‘Wait,’ ordered Randling. The soldiers stopped. Randling looked Bart up and down. ‘Perhaps, given the boy’s tender age, he deserves another chance. He has some unusual gifts and it would be a shame to waste them. I know you have ordered his death, your Majesty, but can I plead with you to change your mind?’
Edward stared at him. ‘Yes . . . yes, of course.’
‘Perhaps imprisonment might be better. Fifteen years?’
Edward felt a weight lift off his shoulders. ‘Yes.’
‘Such a wise ruler,’ said Randling. ‘I knew you’d be good at this.’ He turned to the guards. ‘You heard him. Take the boy to the dungeons.’ The guards dragged Bart away.
Edward sat in the throne, his heart hammering, shocked by what had happened.
‘Your Majesty,’ continued Randling, ‘from what you have said, the boy’s sister, another escaped orphan, appears to be resourceful and determined, especially where her brother is concerned. If she survived the waterfall, she may try to rescue him. May I suggest we order the guards to keep watch for her? In fact, we should circulate a picture to help them identify her. Would you be good enough to write down what Dani was wearing when you last saw her, and to draw her? I know you’re an excellent artist. I have seen some of your work. You should be able to draw a very good likeness and, of course, when we catch her we can compare your portrait to her face.’
Edward realised this was another test. What Randling was really saying was that if Edward made it hard for the guards to catch Dani by deliberately making his drawing of her inaccurate, he would find out about it.
First, he had been forced to order Bart’s death, and now he had to help Randling catch Dani. This was not at all what he had imagined being King would be like.
Bart was pushed down the steps into the dimly lit underbelly of the castle, and along a damp stone corridor past several metal doors. He remembered his one-week confinement in the dungeons after his attempted escape with Adam. It had not been pleasant.
A guard unlocked a door, pushed him inside, and then the door crashed shut behind him.
The cell was a square about six steps across. Light leaked in from a small, high window criss-crossed with thick metal bars. In a corner were two buckets. One was half full of water and the other was empty. Bart realised it was the toilet. Against two of the walls lay thin mattresses covered with straggly blankets and on one of them was a person.
‘Bart? Is that you?’ said a familiar voice.
‘Jonas?’ said Bart. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Dunno. Me and all the other castle orphans got collected up and dumped here yesterday. Where’d you go? You disappeared.’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘I don’t like it here, Bart. Do you know what’s going on?’
Bart tried to work it out. He had gone to sleep in the forest, Edward just a few steps away, and then woken up in the castle, where suddenly Edward had become King. How had that happened? What had happened to the old King? Where was Dani? Why was Randling here? And what about the Northerners who Edward had said were threatening the city? Where were they? It was all too confusing, but he was sure of one thing. Somehow, Edward had tricked and betrayed him, and then framed him for treason.
A wave of despair swept over him. Just a few hours ago he had been free, happier than he had ever been before and looking forward to a new life. Now that was all gone.
Edward lay on his bed. He was supposed to be drawing Dani, but couldn’t muster the energy. He had been played for a fool. Randling had never intended for Bart to be executed. He had just wanted to test how far he could push his new King and, by ordering Bart’s death, Edward realised, he had passed that test with flying colours. Well done, he thought bitterly.
Edward wondered why Randling had spared Bart. After he’d drained Bart’s brain, he had left Bart to die in the forest. Why did he now want him alive? He frowned. It must be because Bart’s mind had been restored. In the forest his mind had been empty, so Randling had had no further use for him. Now that it had been restored, did Randling want to drain him again?
Wearily, Edward moved to his desk, got paper and charcoal from a drawer and began to sketch Dani. He hadn’t drawn anything since he had left the castle, and it was a relief to lose himself in the task. He loved drawing.
Eventually he sat back and looked at the portrait. It was almost perfect. There were Dani’s strong nose and jawline, and her high cheekbones. He was proudest of the eyes. He had perfectly captured Dani’s look of fierce determination. Then his smile faded. The portrait was too good. Anyone who saw it would easily recognise Dani. He must do one that wasn’t as good, so it wouldn’t help the guards too much. He went to the fireplace, struck a match, burnt the portrait, and then got a fresh piece of paper. He remembered what Randling had said:
When we catch her we can compare your drawing to her face.
Once again he began to draw. When he had finished, he studied his work. This version was still a fairly accurate representation of most of Dani’s features. He had made her hair a little shorter than it really was, her mouth a little tighter, her nose a little smaller and the eyes not as sharp as Dani’s. But if someone held the picture next to Dani, they would think it was a decent likeness.
However, this drawing lacked something the previous one had. The essential quality of Dani-ness he had captured so well the first time was now absent. This could be any young girl, and yet it was close enough that Randling would not be able to accuse him of deliberately making it different. In a way, Edward thought, this drawing had required as much skill as the closer likeness had.
Underneath the drawing he wrote:
The girl was wearing dark leggings and a brown tunic, I think, although it may have been blue.
Dani had been wearing dark leggings, but everyone wore dark leggings. Her shirt was grey, but servants also wore brown and blue tunics and he thought he could get away with that minor difference. He summoned a servant and gave him the drawing to deliver to Randling.
It was only after the servant had left that Edward wondered why he had tried to help Dani.
Chapter 26
A New Way to Travel
Dani had been following Flango for some time, desperately hoping he was tracking Bart and not just randomly wandering around. She was burning with impatience and furious with herself for having left her brother. They crested a ridge and, abruptly, the trees opened out. Ahead was a road that led across open ground up a gentle hill to the city gates. Dani’s heart leapt and she hugged Flango. ‘Thank you.’
Outside the city everything looked normal. Where were the bloodthirsty Northerners that Edward had said were surrounding Cranlon? Had they already attacked and seized control? If so, why were the gate guards, two of whom she vaguely recognised, dressed in Tintarfellian uniforms?
Perhaps the Northerners had been defeated. If so, someone had done a very thorough job of cleaning up afterwards, because there was no sign of a fight. No blood, no swords, no hacked-off limbs. Could the Northerners have retreated without a fight?
Whatever had happened, the most likely scenario was that Bart was inside the castle, so that’s where she had to go. It was mid-morning and lots of people were making their way into the city on foot, on horseback, or on carts full of pumpkins, strawberries, meat, nuts, sandals or something else. That was good. The busier it was, the
easier it would be to slip past the guards. Having a warthog by her side, however, might attract attention.
She gave Flango another hug. ‘Time to go,’ she said, gently pushing him back the way they had come. Flango took a couple of steps and then turned back to her.
‘Go,’ cried Dani, waving her arms about. ‘I can’t take you. Shoo.’
Dani walked quickly towards the gates, and then looked back at Flango who sat with his head tilted to one side. Dani thought he looked sad, but then she realised that he was just doing a wee.
Dani joined the throng moving towards the city. When she’d left Cranlon there had been two guards on the gates, but now there were six, and they seemed to be looking closely at everyone entering. She saw a girl about her own age get stopped and questioned. An older man who may have been her father talked with the guards, gesturing with his hands and pointing back down the road. Eventually they were allowed to pass.
If they stopped her, they’ll probably stop me. How do I get past?
She was now getting close to the gates and had an idea. She reached into her bag and found her flints, and then took a few steps off the road and dropped to one knee, pretending to adjust her boot. It had not rained much in the last few weeks and there was dry grass on the side of the track. Shielding what she was doing with her body, she gathered a small pile of grass and then struck the flints together. A spark grabbed at the grass. Dani protected it from the wind with her hands and then, when it had taken hold, stood and walked quickly towards the gates. She had only taken a few steps when she heard a woman’s cry behind her.
‘Fire!’
She glanced back. The flames had already spread beyond the pile she had made. People turned and rushed in all directions. The guards ran past Dani towards the fire, hollering orders and pulling off their cloaks. Dani put her head down and walked briskly through the gates.
Once inside the city, she looked back again and was relieved to see that the soldiers had the fire under control. She continued in what she thought was the direction of the castle and soon came to the markets in the city square. The square was vast, its edges ringed by stalls selling everything from apples to zebra-skin rugs. She kept a lookout for guards or soldiers, and approached a food stall where she bought a sausage in bread. As she handed her money to an old woman she had an idea.
‘Lucky those Northerners are gone,’ she said.
The old woman looked at her strangely. ‘Whatcha talkin’ ’bout, child?’
‘The Northerners. My cousins said they were attacking.’
‘They bin trickin’ ya, then.’
‘Then why are the guards checking people at the gate?’
‘Dunno. Only news I hears is that the King’s ill. Bless his soul. That’s the word. Serious, too. I hear it’s affected his wits and he can’t rule no more.’
‘Who will take over?’
‘Rumour is Prince Edward’s back, so it’ll be him.’
Dani tried to hide her surprise and retreated to a bench to eat. Clearly, what Edward had told them about the Northerners attacking the city had been untrue.
The little rat made it up to trick us into coming back. Why didn’t I realise?
Dani was furious at herself. She had been so tired and depressed after the operation that she had let him hoodwink them.
Then, last night, Edward must have snuck off to the castle, got some soldiers, returned to their campsite and taken Bart. She slapped the bench in frustration and anger. Edward was a worm. She and Bart had been free, and he had tricked them into returning. She promised herself she would make him pay.
But why had Edward gone to so much trouble to chase her and Bart all that way and then lure them back to the castle? It didn’t make sense. What was so important about them? Dani drummed her fingers on the bench. Did it have something to do with Bart’s powers?
She took a deep breath. She had to get inside Tintarfell Castle and find Bart. From where she sat she could see the castle’s four towers. She strode towards them and soon reached the castle gates, where she found a building she could lean against without looking too obvious, and watched. As usual there was regular traffic in and out: servants, soldiers, guards, merchants in wagons, and more. Like the city gates, the castle gates were also more heavily guarded than usual, and guards were stopping and questioning everyone who entered. If she tried to walk through them she would surely be arrested as an escaped servant, but there was no other way in. The castle grounds were surrounded by walls that were too high and smooth to climb. All her life those walls had kept Dani in. Now they were keeping her out.
Someone a lot larger than everyone else walked out the gates. It was Gambon, the giant who Dani had tricked into creating a diversion when she escaped the castle, and he carried a large, empty sack. Dani decided to follow him. Maybe he would know if Bart was inside. True, he wasn’t especially friendly, and the last time she had seen him she had promised him a new mattress that she hadn’t delivered, but she couldn’t think of a better option.
Gambon headed to the markets, where he bought some fruit, vegetables and meat. Dani knew what he was doing. The castle got regular deliveries of food, but late in the morning it was Gambon’s job to get the very best and freshest produce from the stallholders for the royal luncheon and dinner.
The big man finished at the butcher’s stall and headed back towards the castle. Dani fell into step beside him. ‘Hi, Gambon.’
He looked down at Dani, and then stopped. ‘You owe me a mattress.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I had to escape from the castle to look for my brother.’
‘But where’s my mattress? I’ve got a sore back.’
‘I’m sure I can get you a mattress. Could we talk privately for a moment?’
‘No, we can’t,’ he said, and then a confused look appeared on his face. ‘Wait. What does “privately” mean?’
‘Somewhere with fewer people about.’
‘Why?’
‘Because . . .’ And suddenly from nowhere, and totally against her wishes, Dani found that she had to blink back tears. ‘. . . ’cos I need help,’ she spluttered.
Gambon looked about, as if for an escape. ‘I hate tears,’ he muttered. ‘Come on, then.’
On their left was a small square ringed by benches, all of which were occupied. Gambon walked up to one on which a man and a woman sat. He stood close to them and stared at the man. ‘Do you mind if I sit on your lap?’
‘Um, we have to go,’ said the man. He grabbed the woman’s hand and they hurried away.
‘That always works,’ said Gambon, sitting. ‘Well? I haven’t got long.’
Dani decided to keep it simple. ‘My brother was kidnapped, so I had to escape from the castle to look for him. That’s why I tricked you into distracting the guards. I managed to find Bart and rescue him and we were returning to the city, but then last night he disappeared again.’
‘So, why are you here? Shouldn’t you be out looking for him?’
‘I think he’s in the castle. He wouldn’t have just wandered off without me. Someone took him, and I’m sure it was soldiers from here. I saw some of them. Gambon, what’s going on? Why are there extra guards on the gates?’
‘Dunno. The King’s new adviser must have ordered it.’
‘What new adviser?’
‘It’s a bit confusing, but the King is sick, so he’s got a new man helping him.’
‘Who?’
‘Dunno. He just turned up. But now Prince Edward’s back and in charge, so . . . hey, do you know where the other orphans have gone?’ asked Gambon.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Dani.
‘Yesterday they all disappeared. They’re using new servants now. Adults. I heard a guard saying something about the orphans being in the dungeons, but why would they be there? They’ve done nothin’ wrong.’
Dani sensed so
mething in his voice. ‘You care about them.’
‘No I don’t,’ responded Gambon indignantly. ‘Well, not all of them. But a few of them talk to me like I’m a normal person, and not just a machine that carries things. And . . .’ Gambon trailed off.
‘And what?’
‘I am one.’
Dani looked surprised. ‘You’re an orphan?’
‘Yeah. So . . .’
‘. . . you care about them? That’s sweet, Gambon.’
‘No! I care that if the orphans have disappeared and I’m an orphan, then I might get disappeared too.’
Dani gave him a searching look.
‘Oh, all right. I care about them a little,’ he grumbled.
‘Well, let’s find them then. And Bart.’
Gambon furrowed his brow. ‘How?’
‘If you get me into the castle, I’ll work it out from there.’
‘But how do I get you through the gates?’
Dani looked at his sack. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
Gambon lumbered towards the castle gates, his sack slung over his shoulder. Three guards stood on either side of
the gate.
‘Your sack’s big today,’ said one of them.
‘So’s your mouth,’ replied Gambon. ‘They get hungry, our masters do.’
‘Let’s have a look, then,’ said the guard. ‘Everything’s got to be checked.’
Inside the sack, Dani curled herself up as tightly as she could. Above her were pineapples, bananas, watermelons, broccoli, pork chops, apples, a leg of lamb, and a cauliflower. A carrot was stuck in her ear and a piece of broccoli tickled her nose. She hoped she was completely covered. The sack landed on the ground and she stifled a groan. Above, it opened.
‘Spare one of those apples, big fella,’ said the guard.
‘Sure. I’ll just tell Miss Bertha you had one, and if she mentions it to her masters, I’m sure they won’t mind you eating food marked for the royal table. Go on. Take one.’
‘Very funny. Off you go, then.’
The Twins of Tintarfell Page 19
