Your loving brother,
Albert.
Willem glowed with secret excitement. Their friend in the kitchens was still looking after them, and it seemed as though the children were safely away.
Things got better still when a contingent of Sedah guards arrived at the dungeon door. There was a sound the prisoners had not heard in weeks. A rattle, a clunk and a click. Then the door swung slowly open. Lieutenant Foulash and Captain Malish stood there, wrinkling their noses against the stink of the filthy cell. Captain Malish saluted mockingly.
‘Ashana. Mortimer,’ Captain Malish snarled. ‘For some reason, Governor Lazlac has decided to show you some leniency. He is worried about your health. You are to be taken up into the herb garden for half an hour each day.”
Marnie gasped in pleasure, thinking of plants and sunshine and fresh air. Willem gripped her hand tightly.
‘You will be accompanied by thirteen guards,’ Captain Malish continued. ‘If you try to escape, you will be killed. If you try to talk to anyone from the palace, you will be killed. If you move a muscle out of line, you will be killed. Do I make myself clear?’
Queen Ashana inclined her head slightly.
‘Follow me then,’ growled Captain Malish.
Queen Ashana lifted her skirts, for all the world as if she were in the palace reception hall, and not in a filthy dungeon. She swept out of the cell, her head held high in the air. Her ladies followed suit.
Captain Malish ground his teeth in annoyance. Willem and Marnie were the last to leave. The group was hustled down the dark corridor, through the circular guardroom that formed the hub of the underground tunnels, and up the narrow, grimy spiral stairs. The stairs came up into the base of the south-western tower. This small guardroom was also heavily fortified and guarded.
The soldiers scouted ahead to check that the way was clear, then the prisoners were jostled outside through a narrow door. After weeks of imprisonment, the climb up the stairs was exhausting. After weeks in the darkness, the sunshine was blinding. After weeks of stench and filth, the fresh, clean air was overwhelming.
One of the ladies swooned. Another stumbled and fell. Queen Ashana swayed unsteadily on her feet but was held up by one of the gentlemen-in-waiting. The guards lifted their pike staffs to beat the two ladies to their feet. Willem and Marnie rushed to help the fallen women.
The sorry party stumbled and swayed, helping each other, as they moved out into the sunshine. The guards led them to a walled herb garden, near the main kitchen gardens.
The garden had stone pathways laid out in lovers’ knots. Sweet-scented herbs spilled out of the carefully tended beds. Butterflies and bees danced in the air, shimmering in the warm spring air. Stone pots in the centre of each bed held bay trees clipped into inverted cones, and hedges of lavender and rosemary bloomed against the high stone walls.
Queen Ashana and her ladies collapsed on a wooden bench against the wall. Queen Ashana closed her eyes, breathing in the warm, scented air.
The Sedah guards checked that the gateway at the far end was locked and bolted. Seven guards came into the herb garden to watch the prisoners, while the gate behind them was also locked. Other guards stood watch outside.
Marnie breathed deeply, greedily devouring the garden’s sights, smells, sounds and tastes. She sank to her knees beside one of the lovers’ knots, sinking her fingertips into the rich, warm earth.
‘Willem, I need your help,’ Marnie whispered. ‘We need to gather some herbs.’
While the ladies and gentlemen of the court languished in the shade, enjoying the fresh air, Marnie and Willem set to work.
Marnie dug up whole fat knobs of garlic and hid them in the pocket of her apron. She picked sprigs of mint, parsley, chives, chamomile, valerian and thyme and tucked them away. She even pulled up the flat wide leaves and yellow flowers of dandelions, growing in the cracks of the pathways. From the hedges along the wall she picked a huge armful of lavender and rosemary, which she laid in the shade. Willem helped her, picking everything as she directed.
The guards by the gateway had noticed the busy gardening of the husband and wife. One of the young guards raised his pike staff threateningly. An older guard stopped him, lifting his eyebrows, shrugging and twisting his finger next to his temple. The other guards laughed.
‘Too much time underground,’ joked one. ‘The peasants feel the need to weed and get their fingers muddy. You can tell the aristocracy, lolling on their thrones!’
Marnie flushed slightly at the teasing but kept up her work, her fingers stained green and brown, and smelling of mulch. When Marnie had collected enough herbs, she started to walk up and down, her eyes sweeping the ground.
After a few minutes, her sharp brown eyes spied a treasure. Marnie stooped to pick it up with a cry of delight. In her palm were two rusty iron nails. She slipped them into her pocket with the garlic. Meanwhile Willem had discovered a barrel of rainwater hidden in the far corner, with a couple of watering cans stored beside it.
‘Marnie,’ he called softly. ‘Water!’
Marnie walked quickly to the barrel. She trickled soft, clean water from the watering can over her filthy hands. She shivered with delight.
Quickly both of them splashed themselves clean with water, soaking their clothes, rubbing their faces, hands and arms, combing their tangled hair with slick wet fingers. The water washed away weeks of despair and darkness. Their skin tingled anew with hope and happiness.
Marnie walked briskly back to the queen’s resting place.
‘Your majesty,’ she whispered in a gentle voice. ‘Why don’t you come and wash? You will feel much better. And you should try to walk around while we are here.’
‘A wash!’ smiled Queen Ashana. ‘I have never bathed in a garden before, but it sounds like a delightful idea.’
While the courtiers and Queen Ashana washed, Marnie and Willem walked up and down the herb garden, drying their clothes and breathing in the fresh air and sunshine. Too soon, the half an hour was over and the guards, with much shouting, pushing and swearing, escorted them back into the suffocating darkness underground.
They rolled their eyes and sniggered at Marnie carrying an armload of lavender and rosemary, the former queen with her silken skirts still damp from her garden toilette, and Willem carrying a small watering can sloshing over with fresh rainwater. They did not even notice that Marnie had a pocketful of garlic, green herbs, and two rusty iron nails.
Back in the dungeon, the ladies sank once more into their corner, sighing and crying. The gentlemen started playing a complicated gambling game with pebbles, sticks and pieces of straw.
Marnie set to work. Using her fingernails, she peeled the garlic and separated it into plump cloves. Using the iron nail she shredded the garlic as finely as she could and dropped it into the watering can of water. Next she shredded her herbs, tearing them into tiny pieces. These too were dropped into the watering can. Lastly she dropped the two iron nails into the thick green brew.
Lord Mortimer reclined in his corner, watching Marnie with sardonic eyes.
When Marnie had emptied her pockets, she turned to the bunches of rosemary and lavender. Several branches of both plants were stripped of their leaves and flowers, which were tossed into the watering can. A rich aroma of crushed leaves filled the cell, clearing the air of its filthy fug. Marnie stirred the brew in the watering can with one of the denuded twigs.
Lord Mortimer curled his lip in disdain.
Marnie gathered up the armful of fragrant lavender and rosemary and began to strew it around the cell, over the piles of stinking damp straw.
Lord Mortimer laughed mockingly.
‘Oh wily witch, what spells and potions are you brewing for us now?’ he sneered. ‘A spell to blow open the dungeon door and get us out of here, I trust?’
Marnie flushed pink, but continued her work.
‘No, merely a simple spell, as you call it, to banish fleas and lice,’ she retorted. ‘Insects hate the smell of lavender
and rosemary, while for us mere humans it banishes, at least temporarily, the stench of urine.’
‘And what of the disgusting potion you are brewing?’ Lord Mortimer said disbelievingly. ‘Some magical brew to overcome the guards?’
‘No,’ Marnie replied evenly. ‘A simple tisane to help us regain our health in this dreadful hellhole. None of us has eaten anything nutritious for weeks. While we have had a couple of better meals in the last day or so, we must be sadly lacking in iron and other herbal essences. By drinking my potion, as you call it, we can maintain our strength and our wellbeing.’
‘Pah,’ spat Lord Mortimer. ‘I would rather die than drink that foul goop – that revolting concoction of weeds and rubbish. I doubt very much it will do anything but give me stomach cramps. You can drink my share.’
Lord Mortimer turned his back towards Marnie and resumed filing his nails.
Queen Ashana had more faith in Marnie’s power as a healer, having seen her curative power at work. That evening, after Marnie had left her watering can potion to brew for ten hours, Queen Ashana bravely gulped some down. Some of the others followed suit, while some agreed with Lord Mortimer and preferred not to try the slimy, green potion.
Willem was inspired by the break in monotony, and the smell of the outdoors, to do some exercise. Instead of his usual vitality and strength, he felt old and tired, his muscles flabby and wasted. Willem encouraged Marnie and Queen Ashana to walk with him, doing laps of the cell. Willem stretched and lifted a loose stone. His weak muscles screamed against the unaccustomed usage. But he was determined to regain his strength, and help Marnie and Queen Ashana regain theirs.
Whether it was the fresh air and sunshine, the cold wash in the rainwater, the exercise, the sweet scent of lavender, or Marnie’s magic potion, Willem, Marnie and Queen Ashana slept better that night than they had in weeks. Each one slept long and deep, with gentle dreams and no nightmares to waken them. They slept with hope in their hearts.
Far, far to the north a child slept in a narrow truckle bed, in a small dark cell. The child whimpered and cried in his sleep. He tossed and turned, bunching the coarse sheets in his small fair hands.
‘Mama. Mama,’ he whispered as he woke. But Mama was far, far away and could not help him now.
A slow, desperate tear ran down his pale cheek. He did not know which was worse. The nightmares of sleep, or the long, slow, cold drudgery of day.
The room was freezing. There was no fire in the tiny grate. When he finally got up, the water in the jug had a thin film of ice glazing its surface. He had to break the ice to sip the water and splash his face. He had not had a proper bath in weeks. His white hair stood up in clumps. His ice-blue eyes, which had once sparkled with mischief, were now dull and lifeless.
Through the tiny window he could see nothing but white snow stretching into the distance. No sign of life. Spring would not come to the mountains for many weeks.
His breath left a misty patch on the window. Once he would have been entranced by snow. By the endless possibilities of cold, fluffy flakes. Snowballs. Snowmen. Snowfights. Snowsleds.
Not any more. Snow was prison.
He sighed and dressed in long black robes. Every bone in his body ached with sadness and loneliness. The tears sat just below the surface, waiting to rise.
But he would not let them see him cry. Once he had been a royal prince. Once he had been Prince Caspar of Tiregian. Now he was just Boy.
A sharp knock sounded on the door. A sallow, sharp face poked around the corner.
‘Aaah, Boy. You are already up and dressed,’ said the priest. ‘Good. It is time for breakfast and then lessons. Today we are going to study the Nine Laws of Krad, then History of Sedah, followed by Etiquette in Emperor Raef’s Court. I am pleased with your progress. We are finally making some headway.’
Prince Caspar felt a little thrill of happiness. A word of praise. It was the first kind word he had heard in weeks. Then he shook himself mentally. No. This man was his enemy. The Sedahs had murdered his family. He could never be friends with this black-robed priest.
‘Now here is your medicine.’ The priest offered Prince Caspar a small silver cup filled with a brown bitter brew. ‘Drink it all up, Boy.’
Prince Caspar knew from experience it tasted disgusting. He glugged it down obediently. It burned his throat going down.
Every morning and evening he had medicine. At night, it helped him sleep and kept the nightmares away for a while. During the day, it blunted the memories and the pain. Sometimes it almost made him feel happy.
For the first couple of weeks he had fought the medicine. He had fought, and spat, and gagged, but always the priests had held him down, holding his nose until he had swallowed it all. Now he knew there was no point in fighting them. They would win in the end. There were too many of them, and he was just a child, completely alone.
‘Good, Boy,’ said the priest, taking the cup and checking it was empty. ‘Now come to breakfast.’
The boy obediently followed the priest down the stairs to the hall. At least there was a fire there. And breakfast – usually dry, stale bread. Another dreary day had begun.
Towards the middle of the afternoon, Fox called Lily, Ethan, Roana and Saxon down into the cabin. He spread out a creased map on the table. Mia climbed down his arm and sat on the table staring at the map with great interest, as though she were puzzling out the shapes and symbols.
To the north was Tiregian. To the south was Sedah, and in between was a scattered line of islands and rocky outcrops – the Nine Isles – pointing like a crooked finger towards Tiregian.
‘By my calculations, the Sea Dragon probably left Tira this morning on the ebbing tide,’ Fox explained. ‘They will be roughly twelve hours behind us. The ship will be heading south here to the major harbour near Emperor Raef’s court.
‘If we sail south for eight days, with good winds, we will be deep in the Sedah Sea. The following night we can patrol back and forth about here. We will aim to intercept the Sea Dragon somewhere here at about three o’clock in the morning.
‘Most of them will be asleep then,’ Fox continued. ‘They will be close to home and feeling confident. They won’t be expecting any trouble. Now do you have any idea where they might be hiding this thing you are after?’
They had discussed this very question during the day. For something as valuable as the Moon Pearl and the Star Diamonds, they thought it could only be kept somewhere in the captain’s cabin.
‘The plan will be to try to get as close to the stern of the Sea Dragon in the dark as we can,’ Fox said. ‘We will use grappling hooks to tie a rope between us and the ship.’ He looked curiously at the children. ‘Are any of you handy with those bows you carry?’
‘Ethan is brilliant with a bow, but we can all shoot reasonably well,’ replied Lily.
‘Good.’ Fox grinned. ‘I have arrows that are designed to pull a light but strong rope. Ethan, I will need you to shoot it into the Sea Dragon’s stern when we are close enough. Then we will use the rowboat to surf along behind them.’
The children grinned at each other in excitement.
‘The five of us will sneak on board the Sea Dragon from the rowboat, gain access to the captain’s cabin and search for your possession,’ Fox continued. ‘Hopefully there will be something there to make it worth my while as well. We will slip back to the rowboat, cast off and get picked up later by my crew. What do you think?’
‘It sounds perfect,’ said Ethan, his eyes shining. ‘Do you really think we can do it?’
‘No,’ said Fox bluntly. ‘There are so many variables – whether we find the Sea Dragon at all in this vast ocean, whether we can catch them, whether they see us, what the weather is like.
‘We had all better pray for some cloud cover to hide this moon or they will see us kilometres away. But I promised to help you, the Lady only knows why. And this is the best plan I have come up with. So try and get lots of sleep between now and the night we find them. In the me
antime, if we all want to eat tonight you had better get busy and catch us some fish.’
The four found some fishing rods and lures stowed in a locker. The lures were made to look like squid, with fat white bodies, huge black painted eyes and lots of purple and white trailing tentacles, with the hook hidden inside. The four of them sat on the stern, trailing fishing lines into the churning, white wake behind the Owl.
After ten minutes, Ethan was nearly hauled off the boat by a huge jerk from his fishing rod. Saxon dropped his rod and held onto Ethan, hauling him back onto the deck. Ethan started reeling the fish in, but it was much harder than he expected. The fish was fighting. He teased the fish, slowly hauling it in, then gently letting it out a little as the fish below struggled and floundered.
‘It must be a big one,’ cried Saxon in excitement. ‘It’s putting up a fearsome fight.’
Ethan nodded, his eyes shining in exhilaration, and his brow furrowed. Saxon wriggled and jiggled in anticipation, longing to help Ethan. Roana and Lily abandoned their own lines to watch in interest.
‘It’s so strong,’ gasped Ethan. ‘It feels like I’m pulling against a bucking horse!’
‘Let it out some more,’ encouraged Saxon. ‘You don’t want the line to snap.’
After fifteen minutes, the trapped creature was obviously tiring, and Ethan had hauled it close to the stern.
‘Look at its head,’ Saxon cried. ‘It’s a real beauty.’
As its silver head reared out of the water, the fish struggled in a furious frenzy. Ethan slipped and dragged and hauled, the fishing rod straining in a tight curve. The huge fish arced up, closer and closer, until Saxon grasped its flailing body and helped drag it on board. It flipped and flopped on the deck, fighting to return to the sea.
‘Come and see what Ethan caught!’ yelled Saxon, causing Jack, Carl, Fox and Otto to hurry to the stern. The animal was over a metre long, with a pale white belly, a darker silver back and delicate fins of shiny yellow. Its huge eye stared up at Ethan accusingly.
Voyage of the Owl Page 8
