The Snowy Tower

by Belinda Murrell

  ‘They’re here,’ shouted Sniffer as a burly soldier in a Sedah uniform, with a crimson ribbon on his left arm, grasped him firmly with both arms. ‘The children are here already.’ All eyes turned to the wedding table.

  The great sword descended, almost in slow motion. But the servant girl did not strike the newly crowned king, she merely used the blade to strike through the crimson ribbon that bound King Lazlac to Queen Ashana.

  ‘With this blade I sunder the false marriage of this vermin to my mother,’ cried Princess Roana, her eyes blazing with rage. ‘And with this blade I sunder your false claim to my father’s crown.’ Princess Roana used the sword to knock the gold crown from Lord Lazlac’s head down into the pile of vomit on the table.

  ‘In the name of the Sun Sword I claim Tiregian back for the Tiregians,’ Roana thundered.

  The sword flashed and gleamed in the lamplight, its jewels dazzling.

  Lord Lazlac was not giving up his crown without a fight. He screamed for his guards, grabbed up his befouled crown and rammed it back on his head, turning to the soldiers behind him.

  ‘Seize her, guards,’ King Lazlac shrieked. ‘Tear her limb by limb – I want her head cut from her body before my eyes.’

  The guards, who were actually disguised Tiregian rebels, instead seized Lord Lazlac by the arms and relieved him of his ceremonial sword and dagger. Queen Ashana rose to her feet and flung herself towards Roana, standing behind her.

  ‘Look, Mama,’ Roana cried. ‘We brought Caspar home.’

  Lily stepped forward from the back of the group, leading the pale and shaken Prince Caspar by the hand.

  ‘Caspar,’ cried Queen Ashana, her voice hoarse with tears. ‘My darling boy. Are you all right?’

  Prince Caspar stepped forward tentatively, then ran as fast as he could right into his mother’s arms. Queen Ashana hugged him as though she would never let him go. When at last she stepped back to check his face, her red silk wedding dress was splattered with both their tears.

  Meanwhile a battle raged around them. Most of the real Sedah soldiers were in a very sorry state, gripped by vomiting and diarrhoea, stomach cramps and dizzy heads. But of course many of them resisted, fighting back with cutlass and dagger. Albert Drummond was wounded by an enemy spear hurled across the room that buried itself in his thigh.

  Candles and lanterns were knocked over, flames seared, blood spurted and crockery smashed. One of the long tables caught fire, blazing fiercely. On a side table was a large ice sculpture of the palace, surrounded by a fake ocean of seafood and shellfish. It was slowly dripping in the heat. A Sedah soldier tripped, sending the ice sculpture flying into smithereens, spilling slippery shellfish and ice splinters over the floor. Burgis ran to help his lord and sprawled metres across the floor, sliding on the sharp oyster shells and ice shards, where he was rescued by a Tiregian rebel.

  Lieutenant Foulash had eaten little of the soup, as it was too spicy for him. He drew his cutlass and clambered onto the bridal table, racing to rescue his commander. Fox drew his own sword and leapt in front of him, gracefully sidestepping fine bone china soup bowls, empty tureens, knocked over goblets and pools of vomit. Lieutenant Foulash gave a roar of indignation and galloped for Fox, swiping for his neck.

  Mia jumped from Fox’s shoulder and swung up Lily’s arm onto her head, jabbering in rage. Fox answered Foulash’s challenge by glissading forward, as graceful as a dancer. His blue eyes glittered with battle fervour as he parried and feinted, thrusted and blocked, his red ponytail swinging. Around the hall, other pairs of soldiers were fighting and screaming, amid the spot fires. Fox and Lieutenant Foulash seemed evenly matched, and the duel flashed back and forth for many long minutes. Lieutenant Foulash fought strongly, sweating and panting in the heat.

  Ethan and Saxon watched fearfully from beside the table, anxious to help Fox but not wanting to get in his way.

  At last, Fox seemed to hesitate and was forced backwards. Lieutenant Foulash gave a scream of triumph and lunged forward. He drove his cutlass towards Fox’s chest, slicing Fox’s black shirt, and releasing a torrent of crimson blood. Lily screamed. Lieutenant Foulash grinned his triumph, for a brief moment balancing on just his front foot. Fox hooked one boot around his opponent’s leg and jerked him right off his feet, jabbing his sword at the fallen man’s throat.

  ‘A swordsman should always glide – you must keep both feet on the ground at all times,’ instructed Fox, ignoring the flow of blood trickling down his front. ‘Shouldn’t you, Sax?’

  ‘Always,’ grinned Saxon.

  Mia jumped up and down on the fallen Sedah soldier, chattering with excitement. Lieutenant Foulash moaned with shock.

  ‘If you’ve quite finished, Fox,’ scolded Jess, ‘do you think we could bind up that wound for you, before you bleed to death?’

  At last the remaining Sedah soldiers were subdued and, along with their leader, the dethroned King Lazlac, taken down in chains to be locked in the dungeons. There was no time to rest or celebrate. Groups of rebels were despatched to every gate in the city, the port and the garrison. The Tiregian uprising was such a surprise and the preparation so meticulous that there was surprisingly little bloodshed.

  By late afternoon the next day, all of the Sedah soldiers in Tiregian had either surrendered or been conquered. The dungeons under the palace were full once more, but this time with the foreign invaders.

  It was Midsummer’s Day, the day of the summer solstice, the longest day of the year, when the last Sedah soldier was despatched. Once more true ruler of her realm, Queen Ashana gave orders for a great victory celebration to be held that night, throughout the land – with traditional midsummer bonfires, music, feasts, singing and dancing.

  Cookie was beside herself having to prepare a second feast so close to the other ruined wedding banquet. Queen Ashana assured her there was no need for such a lavish spread.

  The four children – Lily, Ethan, Saxon and Roana – had been up late into the night and were exhausted. They were each given private chambers, with vast four-poster beds, scalding hot baths and clean nightclothes. Aisha, too, was totally weary, curled up on the rug beside Lily’s bed. Only Charcoal was awake, exploring the corridors of the palace by night, scrounging scraps under Cookie’s kitchen table and chasing mice in the corridor.

  The children slept most of Midsummer’s Day and it was nearly dusk when they finally awoke.

  Lily, Saxon and Ethan could not believe the luxury of the palace chambers they were given. Each one woke to another hot bath and clean, festive clothes laid out on a chair, which Cookie had begged and borrowed from the former courtiers of the palace. After their bath there was a servant to help them dress and do their hair.

  The weeks of fear and anxiety and worry sloughed off in the hot bath like the dirt from the caverns. They felt fresh and alive once more. It was Midsummer’s Eve, a night for one of the greatest celebrations in Tiregian history.

  It was already dark when the four children gathered downstairs, with Aisha by their side and Charcoal in Lily’s arms. They smiled shyly at each other, hardly recognising each other in their court finery.

  Roana and Lily wore long dresses of finest silk in pale violet and green, with rich white lace at the neck and sleeves. Lily’s hair was carefully coaxed into long ringlets, while Roana’s shorter wavy hair was held back with a silver coronet. Ethan and Saxon wore white linen shirts, breeches and blue jackets. They were supposed to be wearing neatly tied cravats, but both had tugged and pulled at them until they were loose and hanging slightly askew.

  A page boy announced their presence at the door.

  ‘Her royal highness, Princess Roana, with her honoured friends Lily, Ethan and Saxon of Kenley.’

  The children entered the large crowded dining room. Candelabra hung from the ceiling, blazing with candles. Most of the guests were already gathered at the long tables, dressed in their finest silks in dozens of butterfly colours, sipping on crystal goblets filled with ruby cherry wine or golden apple
cider. At the main table were seated Queen Ashana and Prince Caspar, Willem and Marnie, the wounded Fox and Jess, Albert and Cookie and George the farrier, with a number of the lords and ladies who had been captured with the queen.

  A small group of musicians played violins, mandolins and flutes in the corner. Armfuls of fresh flowers from the gardens were arranged in crystal vases, and the windows were flung open to let in the sweet summer air.

  ‘Good evening, dearest Roana. Good evening, Lily, Ethan and Saxon,’ cried Queen Ashana. ‘Welcome to our Midsummer Eve’s feast. Come and join us.’

  ‘I hope you don’t mind that we brought Aisha,’ Lily apologised. ‘She has been with us through all the adventures and we couldn’t bear to be parted from her now.’

  ‘Not at all,’ laughed Queen Ashana. ‘I have become very fond of Aisha myself.’

  The four children took their seats in the middle of the table, opposite their parents, and had their goblets filled with apple cider. Cookie was having the night off to celebrate, but she still watched anxiously as maid servants carried in platter after platter of food.

  There were large trays of fresh oysters with lemon juice, bowls of king prawns still in their shells, roast duck with orange sauce, spitted beef and fricasseed chicken, red wine and mushroom sauce, green beans and asparagus in butter, summer salads, and sautéed vegetables. Potatoes were roasted in garlic and rosemary, or baked with bacon and cream. The smells of roasting meat and rich sauces wafted from each tray that passed, making mouths water and stomachs rumble.

  The children had forgotten the last time they had eaten, and they realised they were absolutely starving. There was so much food it was hard to know what to choose. They all started with sweet, cold seafood, then moved onto crispy duck that melted in the mouth, creamy baked potato and crispy green beans. The apple cider fizzed and bubbled on their tongues. Lily sighed with happiness, stroking Aisha at her feet.

  ‘Save room,’ whispered Roana with a broad grin. ‘Cookie has made my favourite desserts – chocolate mousse and lime tart.’

  Laughter rang around the tables, joyful music played and people chattered happily. When several courses had been cleared away Queen Ashana rose to her feet, and held up her hand for silence.

  ‘My dear friends,’ Queen Ashana began. ‘The last three months has been one of the darkest periods that Tiregian has ever faced. The Sedah invaded our realm and murdered my beloved husband, King Radnor.’

  A ripple of sorrow shimmered around the room. Princess Roana, Prince Caspar and many others fought tears.

  ‘The Sedah seized our lands and all we held dear, kidnapping my son, imprisoning many of our subjects, stealing, burning and pillaging,’ Queen Ashana continued. ‘They outlawed our revered beliefs and brought over their own dark god. They stole our most sacred relic, the Sun Sword, and desecrated it.

  ‘Yet through our darkest days we were not defeated. Loyal subjects all over the country plotted and gathered and rebelled. Last night and today, the Sedah were overthrown entirely, and Tiregian is once again free. Yesterday the Sun Sword was found and made whole once more. I would like you all to rise and charge your glasses for a toast.’

  At once every person in the room rose to their feet and filled their glasses, holding them aloft to catch the light in a glitter of ruby and gold.

  ‘A toast to four of Tiregian’s finest. To four children who braved countless dangers, who tried and tried and never gave up. To four children who succeeded where most adults would definitely have failed. To Lily, Ethan, Saxon and Roana. Our heartfelt thanks.’

  ‘Lily, Ethan, Saxon and her royal highness Princess Roana – our thanks,’ boomed a hundred voices around the room.

  The children smiled sheepishly, embarrassed by the multitude of eyes upon them. Roana, more accustomed to attention, lifted the Sun Sword high above her head. The sword flashed in the candlelight, the gold hilt glinting, the Sun Gem glowing deep ruby, the Moon Pearl gleaming luminously and the Star Diamonds flashing. All eyes turned to that magnificent weapon.

  ‘To the Sun Sword,’ called Roana.

  ‘To the Sun Sword,’ cried a hundred voices, clinking glasses.

  ‘To Midsummer’s Eve,’ added Willem, raising his glass.

  ‘To Midsummer’s Eve,’ cheered the whole room, laughing and sipping.

  ‘The bonfires are alight,’ called a voice from near the window.

  Ethan, Lily, Saxon and Roana rushed to the open doors onto the terrace. A huge full moon hung heavy in the sky. From the terrace they could see over Tira to the countryside in the east. Everywhere – in courtyards, laneways, gardens, meadows, riverbanks and hilltops – the people of Tiregian had built massive bonfires to celebrate Midsummer’s Eve and victory over the Sedah.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ murmured Lily.

  ‘A night we will never ever forget,’ agreed Roana.

  Behind them the musicians struck up a merry tune. The courtiers pushed back the chairs to dance. Willem and Marnie jumped to their feet to twirl in each other’s arms. Jess curtseyed as a tightly bandaged Fox offered her his arm, and Queen Ashana danced with her son. Cookie tapped her feet, satisfied that the feast had been a success, while Albert nursed his bandaged thigh and poured them both a well-earned glass of cider.

  ‘I can’t believe we did it,’ Ethan sighed, rubbing Aisha on the head between her ears.

  ‘I guess we can go home now,’ said Saxon wistfully, thinking of his father, who he had not seen for months.

  ‘But not yet,’ retorted Roana. ‘We still have some Midsummer celebrating to do yet, and do not forget Cookie’s chocolate mousse.’

  The four friends laughed and turned back to the party, happy to joke and dance and feast once more.

  Wearily, the party of five rode through the forest.

  ‘It’s not far now,’ smiled Marnie, encouragingly. ‘Not long and we’ll be home.’

  ‘Home,’ said Lily longingly.

  Saxon dug his heels into Caramel’s sides, urging her into a faster trot. The others broke into a trot as well.

  Half an hour later they jogged into Kenley, in the late afternoon sun. It was not the Kenley they had left behind nearly four months ago. Many of the cottages were ruins – piles of stones and blackened timber. Yet everywhere was the sign of industry, people bustling and working, building, hoeing, cleaning up.

  An old woman was working in the ruins of her cottage, moving rubble. She paused, recognised the riders and stood up calling a loud greeting. A middle-aged man was working in a garden further up the lane. He saw the riders and came running.

  ‘Sax,’ he called. ‘Sax, my boy, is that really you?’

  ‘Dadda,’ yelled Saxon, tumbling down from Caramel’s back and into his father’s arms. Rodney the tailor wept with relief that his only son had returned home at last.

  There were hugs and tears and thumps and greetings all around as the villagers realised that the Master of Horse and his family had returned, along with mischievous Saxon.

  ‘I have your pig, Willem,’ offered one farmer. ‘I found her wandering in the forest and brought her back.’

  ‘Your cows are fine, down in your meadow,’ offered another. ‘But I think the foxes caught all your chickens and ducks, Marnie.’

  Village news from the last four months was shared – who had died, who had been born, who had suffered during the invasion. At last their neighbours and friends drifted off to their work. Rodney took Saxon home to hear tales of their adventures.

  Finally Willem, Marnie, Ethan and Lily stood before their own cottage. The once-enchanting home was now nothing but a pile of rubble. They slid from their horses to stand at the lopsided gate, hanging on one hinge. The forget-me-nevers and gillyflowers had long since faded and dropped their seeds, and the lavender and rosemary were battered and crushed but still sweet-scented.

  ‘They burnt it,’ cried Ethan, his face pale with fury. ‘The Sedahs burnt our home.’

  ‘We’ve lost everything,’ wailed Lily, tears pouring
down her face. ‘Everything is gone.’

  Marnie stood silent, her face set with determination and her eyes bright with tears as she surveyed the ruin of her home and garden.

  Willem drew them all into the shelter of his arms.

  ‘We haven’t lost everything,’ soothed Willem. ‘Everything precious in life is right here – our family, our friends and neighbours. The garden will grow again, it already is. We can rebuild the house, but at least we are all safe together once more.’

  Aisha wagged her tail vigorously, thumping the ground and licking everyone in turn.

  Marnie, Lily and Ethan smiled through their tears. Willem was right. The garden was already regrowing, with fresh new shoots pushing up through the rubble to greet the summer sun.

  ‘It’s so long since we’ve slept in a proper bed, I don’t think I could sleep properly anyway,’ joked Lily. ‘I guess it’s a blanket by the camp fire for a few more weeks at least.’

  ‘It’s summer and it will be ages before the weather turns cold,’ added Marnie.

  ‘And I bet the cellar under the barn is still intact,’ Ethan remembered. ‘I hid the trapdoor under a pile of manure so the Sedahs wouldn’t find it.’

  ‘That’s my clever boy,’ laughed Willem. ‘Let’s go and take a look.’

  A month later, Queen Ashana arrived at Kenley with her children, Princess Roana and Prince Caspar, and a small group of Royal Guards.

  She gravely surveyed the village, complimenting the villagers on the rebuilding work and making notes of ways she could offer help. After her tour, she came to tea with Willem and Marnie, along with Saxon and Rodney. Willem, Marnie, Ethan and Lily were living in the one stone room they had managed to rebuild so far.

  It was only small but Willem and Ethan had built a roughly hewn table and two benches, while Lily had picked some wildflowers held in an old tin cup. Marnie made tea served in a chipped assortment of teacups, with cold lemon and apple pie.