Peter and the Sword of Mercy

by Dave Barry, Ridley Pearson

  “That’s going to be difficult,” said Neville, “without knowing where it is.”

  “Then we’re just going to have to find it,” said Wendy.

  “Tell me again,” said Patrick, “exactly what your grandfather told you about the Cache.”

  “He said it’s in London,” said Wendy. “In a gold-lined chest, in a vault deep underground. But he didn’t tell me where in London. He was very ill.”

  “Underground in London,” said Neville. “That doesn’t narrow it down much.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” agreed Patrick.

  Ted was frowning at Wendy. “Wasn’t there something else?”

  “What do you mean?” said Wendy.

  “Something else Lord Aster told you about the Cache.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Wendy. “He said something odd about ‘confess,’ but…”

  “Yes,” said Ted. “You told me he said somebody should confess.”

  “He did,” said Wendy, “but I think he meant that for Peter. I don’t think—”

  “That’s it!” said Patrick, leaping to his feet.

  “I beg your pardon?” said Neville.”

  “The Sword of Mercy!” said Patrick. “Do you know what it’s also known as?”

  “Curtana,” said Wendy.

  “Yes, that,” said Patrick. “But it’s also called Edward the Confessor’s sword.”

  “Interesting,” said Neville, “but how does that…”

  “Edward the Confessor’s tomb,” said Patrick, “is in Westminster Abbey. In fact, it was he who constructed the original abbey on the site, in the eleventh century.”

  “I see,” said Ted. “So you’re suggesting …”

  “If Edward the Confessor’s sword opens the Cache,” said Patrick, “it stands to reason that the Cache is in, or near, Edward the Confessor’s tomb. That’s what Lord Aster was trying to tell Wendy!”

  “It does seem to make sense,” said Wendy. She looked around. “Does anybody have a better suggestion?” Nobody spoke. “Then we’ll go to Westminster Abbey and have a look at this tomb,” she said.

  “Um,” said Patrick, “That’s a bit of a problem.”

  “What is?” said Wendy.

  “We don’t know where the tomb is.”

  “We don’t?” said Ted. “I thought it was a great big thing right there in the middle.”

  “Not quite,” said Patrick. “That’s the shrine to the Confessor; his remains were moved there centuries ago from his tomb. But the shrine is above ground, so if the Cache is buried, as Lord Aster said, it can’t be in the shrine. The Confessor’s original tomb is underground, but unfortunately nobody knows precisely where. Over the centuries, the abbey has seen many changes, and records were not always well kept. The location of the Confessor’s tomb is one of the abbey’s enduring mysteries. In fact, it’s believed that there are quite a few lost tombs, chambers, and vaults beneath the abbey.” “So how on earth are we supposed to find it?” said Neville.

  “It could be a problem,” admitted Patrick.

  “We’ll just have to see when we get there,” said Wendy.

  “As good a plan as any,” said Patrick.

  The front door of the hotel creaked open; the group listened to the thumping of heavy footsteps in the hall. Magill appeared in the drawing room, his arms laden with packages.

  “It’s a good thing the lot of you stayed here,” he said.

  “Why?” said Ted.

  “Police,” said Magill. “All about. Hundreds, looks like. Going door to door, asking questions. Especially interested in a girl and a boy. An unusual red-haired boy,’is the description they’re using.”

  Wendy glanced over at Peter, still slumped in the corner chair. He hadn’t reacted to Magill’s news; hadn’t moved at all. She turned back to Magill.

  “Do you think we can get past the police?” she said. “We need to go to Westminster Abbey.”

  “We can get past them,” said Magill. “But not in daylight.”

  “All right, then,” said Wendy. “Tonight.”

  The group dispersed, leaving Wendy and Peter in the drawing room, alone except for the snoring Karl. Wendy took a breath, exhaled, and walked over to Peter’s chair.

  “Peter,” she said.

  He didn’t move.

  “We’re going to need you tonight,” she said.

  His head snapped up. His eyes were red, his face tear-streaked.

  “Why?” he said. “So I can fail again?”

  “Peter, it wasn’t your fault. That man, or that thing, whatever it was, would have been too much for any of us.”

  “I ran away, Wendy. I left the stone. And I left Tink. I left Tink. Because I was afraid of him. I am afraid of him.”

  “I’m afraid of him, too, Peter,” she said. “But we have to try to stop them. And we need your help. We need your special abilities.”

  “I never asked to be special!” shouted Peter. “I don’t want to be special!” He looked away. Wendy reached out and touched his arm. He pulled away from her.

  “Peter,” she said, “I never asked to be a Starcatcher. I’d rather be a regular English schoolgirl, sitting in my regular English home having a regular English supper with my regular English family. But come to find out, that’s not what or who I am. I have to accept that. I’m a Starcatcher now, and I don’t know where my parents are, and the police are after me, and somehow I’m supposed to save England from evil with the help of some Oxford fellows and a dotty uncle and an old snoring bear. Do you think I asked for this? Do you think I want it?”

  Suddenly, Wendy was sobbing, her face in her hands, her body shaking.

  For few moments, Peter stood still, listening to Wendy cry. Then he turned toward her. Slowly he reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder.

  “For what it’s worth,” he said, “you also have the help of an unusual red-haired boy.”

  Wendy turned and flung her arms around him. For a few moments she held him as tightly as she could. Then she let him go, and they both looked away, blushing.

  “Well,” said Wendy, “I’d better get some rest. I don’t suppose we’ll get much sleep tonight.”

  “I don’t suppose so,” agreed Peter.

  “Until tonight, then,” said Wendy, heading for the stairs.

  “Until tonight,” said Peter.

  CHAPTER 54

  A MINOR MISHAP

  REVILE’S MEN WAITED until after the three swords had been polished, so that the counterfeit would not be subject to close scrutiny. Acting as the King’s official representatives, they solemnly observed as the Crown Jeweler and his staff worked on the swords in a subterranean room in the tower of London’s Jewel House. When the work was done, they joined the procession of Yeoman Warders, or “Beefeaters,” transporting the swords back upstairs to their secure cases. Two of Revile’s men—a small man, and a tall man who walked a bit stiffly—went in front of the Beefeater who was carrying Curtana. The third man fell in behind.

  The procession entered a long, narrow hallway. The Beefeaters’ mood was serious, but not tense. The last place they expected trouble was here, in the bowels of the best-guarded building in the Tower complex.

  Halfway down the tunnel, the short man in front of the Beefeater holding Curtana stumbled, or so it appeared. What happened next took place so quickly that it would have taken the eyes of a career pickpocket—which is precisely what Revile’s men were—to follow it. The short man fell to the floor, sprawling in such a way that he took out the feet from under the Beefeater. The Beefeater fell forward hard, his body obeying the defensive instinct to break his fall by thrusting out his hands—and losing his grip on the sword. Both the Beefeater and Curtana were deftly caught by the tall man in front, who righted the Beefeater and, with a flourish, handed him the counterfeit sword he had been concealing in a special sheath inside his coat—a sheath that now held Curtana.

  The men ahead in line didn’t see any of this; they were facing forward. The view of
the men behind was blocked by the third man in Revile’s team. Everyone quickly concluded that it had been a minor mishap; the important thing was that the sword had not been dropped. The procession continued on its way, and in ten minutes, the swords were back in their cases.

  A few minutes later, the king’s three observers were leaving the Tower. The tall one was still walking a bit stiffly.

  CHAPTER 55

  THE WHITE STARFISH

  “WE SHOULDN’T BE DOING THIS,” whispered Little Scallop.

  “Shh!” hissed Shining Pearl, momentarily silencing her little sister. The two girls, having slipped out of their sleeping hut, were creeping along a moonlit path leading away from the Mollusk village.

  After a few steps, Little Scallop said, “But Father says—”

  “I know what Father says,” said Shining Pearl. Their father, Fighting Prawn, the Mollusk chief, had told the girls more than once that they were never to leave the village alone at night. “But that rule was from before, when there were pirates here. Now the pirates are gone, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “It’s still a rule,” said Little Scallop.

  “Yes, but this is a special situation. We need to surprise Father for his birthday. How can we do that if he knows what we’re doing? And we’ll only be gone a little while. And the boys will be with us.”

  “I don’t see what’s so special about a smelly starfish anyway. Why couldn’t we just have made him a conch necklace?”

  “Because we’ve made him necklaces for the last I-don’t-know-how-many birthdays. And it’s not just a starfish. It’s a white starfish, and those are good luck.”

  “What if it isn’t a white starfish?”

  “It is, and I know exactly where I saw it.”

  “Why didn’t you get it then?”

  Shining Pearl rolled her eyes. “I told you. I couldn’t get to it when the tide was high. But now it’s low, so it will be easy. Just wait: tomorrow morning we’re going to give it to Father and he’s going to be so happy he’s going to give us one of those hugs where you can’t breathe.”

  Little Scallop smiled; she loved those hugs. But her frown returned as she said, “But what if we get caught?”

  “We won’t, if you’ll be quiet. Now look for the boys. They were supposed to—”

  “There!” said Little Scallop, pointing ahead on the path. By the moonlight, Shining Pearl saw a face peering around the side of a large rock. As she came closer, she saw it was Nibs. He stepped onto the path, followed by the rest of the Lost Boys: Curly, Tootles, Slightly, and the twins.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” said Nibs.

  “Of course,” said Shining Pearl. “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “Look at the sky,” said Nibs.

  Shining Pearl looked up and saw that a third of the stars had been blotted out by a vast, low cloud bank, which at the moment was creeping toward the island, covering more and more of the night sky.

  “It’s going to rain,” said Nibs.

  “A lot,” said Slightly.

  “We should go back,” said Little Scallop.

  “Not without the starfish,” said Shining Pearl. “Who cares if we get a little wet?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she set off down the path. The others followed with various levels of enthusiasm. Shining Pearl led them to the water trail, which ran along the coast all the way around the island, winding its way past lookout points, beaches, and tidal pools. It was one of the island’s most-used trails, so it was wide and well-worn. The children made good progress, and soon were a good distance from the Mollusk village.

  As they walked, Nibs kept glancing at the sky, watching the cloud mass draw ever closer. Gusts of wind had started to reach the island, causing the trees in the dark jungle to thrash about. The wind carried a few drops of rain.

  “Are you really sure you want to do this tonight?” said Nibs.

  “Yes,” said Shining Pearl. “Tomorrow’s Father’s birthday, and I want to give him that starfish.”

  “But why d’you need all eight of us, for one starfish?” said Nibs.

  Shining Pearl tried to think of something to say.

  “It’s because she’s scared,” said Slightly.

  “I am not!” said Shining Pearl, not convincingly.

  “Can’t blame her,” Slightly went on. “The pirates made this part of the island scary for all of us. Been out of bounds the whole time we’ve lived here. I wanted to come along just so I could see stuff I haven’t seen before.”

  “Can’t see much of it in the dark,” said one of the twins. No one could tell them apart.

  “Here we are!” shouted a relieved Shining Pearl. She ran down to the water, where a semicircle of rocks had created a tidal pool, protected from the increasingly rough sea. Little Scallop joined her, as did the twins. The rest of the boys stayed back at the edge of the jungle, where the tree canopy protected them from the ever-more-persistent rain.

  “All this for a starfish,” said Slightly. Nibs, Curly, and Tootles, eyeing the deteriorating weather, muttered in agreement.

  “I’m going up there, where it’s drier,” said Tootles. He started making his way deeper into the jungle. “OWW!” he cried.

  “What?” said Slightly.

  “There’s something here!” said Tootles. He started pulling away a pile of leaves and branches, revealing …

  “A boat!” he shouted.

  The others ran over and stared.

  “What’s a boat doing here?” said Curly.

  “Those leaves were meant to hide it,” said Slightly. “They were cut recently. They aren’t even brown.”

  “Shipwrecked,” Curly said. “It’s shipwrecked sailors.”

  “Then why hide the boat?” said Slightly. “They’d want help, wouldn’t they?”

  “Maybe they want to lie low until they see who else is on the island,” said Nibs. “To make sure they’re friendly.”

  “Or maybe they’re not shipwrecked,” said Slightly.

  “Then who are they?” said Curly.

  “I don’t know,” said Slightly. “But we should tell Fighting Prawn.”

  “No!” said Shining Pearl. She had come up behind them with Little Scallop and the twins. She held a wet clump of seaweed, which was wrapped around the prized white starfish. “If we tell Father, he’ll know we broke the rule. We’re not supposed to even be here.”

  The boys considered that. They weren’t supposed to be there, either.

  “But we need to tell him somebody’s on the island,” said Slightly. “We can’t just ignore this boat.”

  It was starting to rain harder. The wind was bringing ever bigger waves, roaring as they pounded the shore. A bolt of lightning lit the jungle nearby, followed almost immediately by a deafening crash of thunder.

  “I wish we never came here,” said Little Scallop, speaking for everybody.

  “I have an idea,” said Nibs. “We’ll go back home tonight. Tomorrow we’ll come back here and pretend we discovered the boat. Then we can tell Fighting Prawn.”

  “I don’t know,” said Slightly. “What if whoever brought this boat…”

  “Whoever it is,” interrupted Nibs, “they can’t do anything tonight, not with this storm coming.”

  “All right,” said Shining Pearl. “We’ll go back now, then come out here tomorrow first thing.”

  They started back the way they’d come on the water trail, but stopped after only a few dozen yards. Directly ahead, a huge wave crashed over the trail, followed by another, then another, the vicious surge slamming into a mountain cliff too steep for the children to climb around. The children waited for an opening, but the massive waves kept thundering in.

  Finally, Slightly stated the obvious: “We’re not going to get through this way.”

  “We’ll have to take the mountain trail,” said Shining Pearl.

  “In this weather?” said Nibs.

  “It’s the only way back,” said Shining Pearl, who knew
the island better than any of the others. She turned back on the water trail, which met the mountain trail farther down the coast, past where they’d discovered the boat. “Come on!” she urged.

  The rest started after her, except for Curly, who hung back.

  “What about the boars?” he said.

  The others stopped. They’d forgotten about the boars.

  “They come out at night, you know,” said Curly. “That’s when they hunt.”

  “And that’s when they get hunted,” said Slightly. Everyone knew what he was talking about. A shudder passed through them all.

  For a few seconds, the group stood in silence. Then Shining Pearl said, “We can’t stay out here. We have to get back.”

  “She’s right,” said Nibs. “We’ll stick together and listen sharp. If anyone hears anything, give a shout, get up a tree fast as you can.”

  He and Shining Pearl started walking, followed by the others. Curly was last in line. He was still unhappy about taking the mountain trail. But he definitely didn’t want to be left alone. Not on a night like this.

  CHAPTER 56

  A FLASH OF LIGHTNING

  JUST DOWN THE WATER TRAIL, where it converged with the mountain trail, Cheeky O’Neal, Frederick DeWulf, and Rufus Kelly were crouched behind a pile of huge rocks at the edge of a beach, getting what protection they could from the rain. They’d been there for hours, listening to the thundering sound of big waves crashing on a reef a hundred yards offshore.

  “Don’t see how they can land a boat in this,” said DeWulf. “Don’t see how they’ll get past that reef.”

  “You don’t know Nerezza like I do,” said O’Neal.

  “Of all the nights for a storm to come up,” said Kelly.

  “It works in our favor,” said O’Neal, staring into the sheeting rain. “There’s no way the Mollusks will see them coming in this.” He turned to DeWulf and said, “McPherson’s been on watch long enough. Go relieve him.”

  “But it hasn’t even been an hour!” protested DeWulf.

  O’Neal, leaning his huge frame close to DeWulf, growled, “I said go relieve Angus.”