The Stones of Ravenglass

by Jenny Nimmo

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The prince was young and leaves no heir. He was rare among the British – he kept his castle while all over the country the conquerors turned families off their land. Young Griffith was safe because his mother was sister to a conqueror. But now . . .’ Eri shook his head. ‘I am afraid for all the prince’s favourites, especially my brother, the poet, and my nephew, Edern.’

  ‘What will happen to them?’

  Eri shrugged. ‘Osbern will find a way to get rid of them, no doubt. And your friend with the wolf’s teeth will fare no better.’

  ‘Peredur? His father is the prince’s most respected general,’ Timoken said hotly.

  ‘And if he has died at the prince’s side, then it will be all up with his family.’

  ‘No.’ Timoken began to see the pattern now. He and his friends were slowly but surely being separated. Gereint had already been sent to a monastery. Mabon spent all his time with the archers, and Berenice was closeted with the women. ‘At least she is with my sister,’ Timoken muttered.

  ‘Eh? What’s that you say?’ Eri said irritably. ‘My hearing’s not so good.’

  ‘I was thinking of my sister,’ said Timoken. ‘If Osbern D’Ark means to keep me in this prison, what will become of her? It seems that you and I must escape from here, but I can’t leave Zobayda behind.’

  ‘The conquerors have nothing to fear from women,’ Eri said. ‘They won’t harm your sister.’

  ‘We have travelled so far, and for so long. I thought we had found a home at last.’

  ‘Hmm,’ grunted the wizard. ‘This was my home for sixty years; it’s too late for me to find another.’

  ‘No, sir. Not true. I’ll build a home for all of us.’ Timoken spoke without thinking. He immediately wondered how he could achieve such an impossible task. Getting to his feet he stood on tiptoe and looked through the window. It was too narrow even for him to crawl through. He could see the autumn forest, stretching for miles beyond the castle fields. On the horizon, a ridge of blue hills could be seen, their shape softened by the mist. ‘There,’ he murmured. ‘That’s where we’ll go, Eri. Into the hills.’

  The old man said nothing but, when Timoken turned, he found the wizard’s eyes on him. ‘Are you going to reveal yourself at last, African?’ he said.

  ‘Do you mean my . . . ?’

  ‘Your gifts, yes. Your talents.’

  ‘Did my friend Edern tell you?’

  ‘No,’ the wizard sounded almost angry. ‘My nephew kept your secret. I knew what you were the moment you arrived, and I’ve observed you flying through the night sky on your camel. You must think me a fool, boy. We are the same, you and I.’

  ‘Forgive me.’ Timoken looked away from the wizard’s accusing gaze. ‘I have always respected you, sir. I didn’t know that you had guessed.’

  ‘The time has come for you to use your magic, for it is beyond my skills.’ Eri stood and laid a hand on Timoken’s shoulder. ‘Osbern would not have put us in this tower if he meant us to live. I daresay your friend, the archer, was threatened with death for himself and his family if he did not kill you.’

  Timoken nodded. He had already worked this out for himself. He ran his hand over the thick timber beneath the window. Slowly, his fingers felt their way through time. He touched the sapling that the oak had once been, and even the soft earth that had nurtured it. ‘I can do it,’ he said.

  ‘Wait until nightfall,’ the wizard advised.

  They sat together on the dusty floor, and Eri clasped his bony knees to his chest, muttering, ‘It is a long way to fall, boy, from this tower. I hope you hold some charm for avoiding broken bones.’

  ‘I will carry you,’ Timoken said simply.

  A smile lit the wizard’s face. ‘Ah.’ He patted Timoken’s knee. ‘We are in with a chance, then.’

  Chapter Two

  Escape

  The meagre light began to fade. Soon they were plunged into a gloom beyond darkness, with not even a candle for comfort. No one came to the door, not even a crust was thrown into the prisoners’ cell.

  ‘They mean to starve us,’ muttered Eri.

  ‘When shall we go?’ asked Timoken.

  ‘It’s early yet,’ said the wizard. ‘There will be feasting in the courtyard, animals to tend and all the bedtime din.’

  Timoken slept a little, and then woke up. The wizard was snoring. The noise he made rebounded from the walls like dull thunder. Timoken stuffed straw into his ears, but it made little difference. At that moment he would have exchanged any of his extraordinary gifts for a spell to stop snoring.

  After a while Timoken became aware that, behind the wizard’s rumbling snore, there was a deep silence. He went to the tiny window. The stars were fading. It was time to go. He shook the wizard’s arm and the old man mumbled and grunted. A second later he was up. Gripping Timoken’s shoulder, he whispered, ‘Now or never, boy. Let’s go.’

  Once again, Timoken ran his hand lightly across the wood beneath the window. He felt the tree that it had once been, felt the smooth sapling that had come before the tree, touched the earth that nurtured it. He thrust his hand into the soft, sliding mud and, using the secret language of his homeland, urged it to give way. A large stone fell at his feet, a piece of timber followed it, and then another; mortar trickled on to the floor and dust flew out into the night air.

  ‘Well and truly done,’ remarked the wizard. ‘We’re nearly there.’

  ‘Soon, soon!’ Timoken’s brown eyes were shining.

  A minute later there was a gap in the wall wide enough and low enough for him to step over.

  ‘What do you suggest?’ asked Eri.

  ‘Put your arms around my neck and hold tight.’

  Timoken felt the wizard’s strong, sinewy arms wind themselves over his shoulders and around his neck.

  ‘Off we go, then,’ whispered Eri, and Timoken was surprised to feel the wizard’s pointed boot give his calf a little kick.

  ‘I am not a horse,’ Timoken complained as he stepped into the sky.

  They floated gently down into the courtyard, just as Timoken intended, but all the while Eri kept hissing, ‘Over the wall, boy. Over the wall. We can’t land here. The guards will catch us.’

  When he felt the earth under his feet, Timoken said, ‘I’m going for my camel.’

  ‘Your camel!’ the wizard softly screeched. ‘Your camel.’ He leapt in front of Timoken. ‘There’s no time for a camel. Come on, let’s get over that wall.’

  ‘I need my camel,’ said Timoken.

  ‘Need, need?’ cried Eri. ‘I need my bag of tricks, but you don’t see me running for them, do you?’

  Timoken hurried around the wizard and raced towards the stables. The old man pursued him, cursing quietly. ‘You’ll wake the horses, you’ll wake the stable boys,’ he muttered.

  ‘Leave the horses to me,’ whispered Timoken. ‘You can deal with the stable boys.’

  Before he lifted the latch on the stable door, Timoken began to murmur to the horses in the language that they knew. He told them to be silent, and to remain still. They were at rest now. The camel would be leaving, he told them, but they wouldn’t be needed until first light. Even as he said this, Timoken realised that dawn was almost upon them. The stars were fading fast.

  As he made his way past the horses, standing quietly in their stalls, a boy suddenly stood up, swinging a lantern in Timoken’s face. ‘Thief!’ he yelled. ‘You shall not steal our horses.’

  ‘Hush, boy,’ said the wizard, striding into the lamplight. ‘You know me. I’m no thief. Your name is Eadric, I believe.’

  Recognising the wizard, the boy said, ‘I know you, sir, but what is the African doing here?’

  ‘He has come to see his camel,’ Eri said mildly. ‘The prince allows this.’

  Eadric relaxed a little. ‘We’ve been commanded to take our orders from Sir Osbern now.’ He sounded apologetic. ‘And we have been told that . . . that . . .’

  ‘Speak up, boy,�
� the wizard said impatiently.

  Timoken noticed that the other stable boys had woken up. They approached from both ends of the stable, nervous yet curious to know what was going on.

  ‘Speak, Eadric!’ ordered the wizard.

  The boy looked down at his feet and mumbled. ‘We’ve been told that you are a traitor, sire.’

  ‘Ha!’ The wizard shook his head and laughed softly. ‘And who told you that?’ he asked, his laughter subsiding.

  ‘Stenulf Pocknose,’ whispered one of the other boys.

  ‘Oh, him!’ The wizard shook his head. ‘The fool. Now, boys, I’m sure you want to earn some silver.’

  The boys stared at Eri, their eyes dancing in the lamplight. Timoken wondered where all this was leading. He had hoped that Eri would have come up with a small spell to send the boys to sleep.

  The wizard produced a fistful of silver coins from the folds of his torn cloak. He began to toss them in the air with one hand, catching them in the other. Some slipped through his fingers, spun towards the ground and then, of their own accord, flew up into the rafters. The boys watched speechlessly. They put out their hands, but the silver discs whirled past them and flew to the end of the stable. They chased after the silver, giggling with excitement. Eadric hung his lantern on a post and followed them. The sound of their soft laughter would normally have agitated the younger, friskier horses, but they remained calm, still held by Timoken’s quiet command.

  Timoken took the lantern and went in search of his camel. He wasn’t in his usual stall. He’d been moved to the far end of the stable; a damp, dark place without straw or water. The camel was crouching, his head lowered forlornly; his eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep.

  ‘Gabar!’ Timoken whispered in the camel’s language.

  The camel’s thick lashes fluttered. He opened his eyes and said, ‘The prince’s horse has gone.’

  ‘And so has the prince,’ Timoken told him.

  Eri peered into the gloomy stall. ‘I suppose your camel can understand your grunting,’ he said.

  ‘Naturally.’ Timoken grinned. ‘Otherwise I wouldn’t grunt.’

  ‘It doesn’t look eager for flight,’ the wizard remarked, giving the camel a quizzical look.

  ‘His name is Gabar,’ said Timoken, ‘and I haven’t asked him yet.’ Kneeling beside the camel, Timoken said, ‘We’re going on a journey. Where’s your saddle, Gabar?’

  ‘They took it,’ said Gabar. ‘They took everything. Soldiers. They mean to eat me. I saw it in their faces.’ He stood up and shook himself. ‘You’ll have to ride without a saddle.’

  Timoken stood and patted his neck. ‘No one’s going to eat you, Gabar. But I’ll have to find a seat for the wizard. He’s coming with us.’

  Gabar eyed the wizard suspiciously; the wizard returned the look.

  Timoken ran down the stable, searching for the camel saddle. He almost tripped over the stable boys lying in a heap, all fast asleep. Timoken smiled. So the wizard’s silver coins were charms after all.

  He found a sack and stuffed it with straw. Grabbing some of the leather harnesses, he ran back to the camel and, asking Gabar to kneel again, began to fix the sack on the camel’s hump.

  ‘A fine saddle.’ The wizard gave a reluctant chuckle.

  Timoken adjusted a harness and fitted it over the camel’s head.

  In a resigned tone, Gabar snorted, ‘And now I smell of horse.’

  Ignoring the camel, Timoken said, ‘After you, sir,’ and stood back to let the wizard mount.

  Eri rolled his eyes. ‘May the forest gods protect me,’ he murmured. ‘May the sun, moon and stars take pity.’ Gingerly, he lifted his brown robe and sat astride the camel’s hump.

  ‘That’s not the way, exactly,’ said Timoken, seating himself, cross-legged, in front of the wizard. ‘But it will do. You’ll have to hold me fast while I take the reins. Gabar may not respond to your touch.’

  ‘Woooo-o-aaa!’ exclaimed the wizard as Gabar lifted himself from his knees and made for the stable door.

  There was a rosy glow in the eastern sky, and birdsong was beginning to rise from the forest. The watchmen by the great door didn’t need a lantern to see the camel trotting out of the stable.

  ‘Hold there!’ a watchman called.

  ‘Up, Gabar. Up!’ cried Timoken.

  The watchman blew his horn and, before the camel could get into his stride, two soldiers ran from a doorway in one of the corner towers.

  ‘The prisoners are out!’ yelled one of the soldiers.

  A spear came through the air and Timoken cried, ‘Down, wizard!’ as he ducked beneath the spear. The wizard’s head bumped into his back and, hoping the old man hadn’t been hit, he leaned forward and tugged the rough hair on Gabar’s back.

  ‘Up, up, up!’ Timoken commanded. ‘Now!’

  Gabar gave a loud snort and, not a moment too soon, Timoken felt the camel leave the ground.

  For a moment the soldiers were too stunned to act, and then, snarling with fury, they flung their spears at the flying camel.

  ‘Never thought I’d see the day,’ came the wizard’s deep mutter.

  When Timoken had first taught Gabar to fly, it had been an arduous and punishing experience for both of them. But now the camel could climb into the sky with little more than an encouraging tug. He had learned to ride the air with astonishing ease, and within seconds Timoken and the wizard found themselves above the castle wall. Soon they were beyond the range of any spear, and sailing over the forest.

  ‘The blue hills, Gabar,’ said Timoken. ‘See? Beyond the trees!’

  ‘Will there be sand?’ asked Gabar. How he longed for sand. He hated damp earth, the tangle of weeds, cold mud and stony streams. Every night he dreamed of the desert where he was born. Sometimes he carried his dreams into his waking hours, and pretended not to feel the freezing hand of the wind beating on his skin, or the ice from the water-trough rattling down his throat. He deafened himself to the sound of the rain and the grumbling of the horses in the stable.

  ‘We will find sand,’ said Timoken, meaning to keep his promise. ‘Even if I have to make it.’

  ‘Make sand, Family? That would be a new thing.’ Family was the name the camel always used for the boy who rode him, for that’s what Timoken had told him when they first flew together, more than two hundred years ago. They were ‘Family’ to each other.

  ‘I believe you two are hatching a plot,’ grumbled Eri. ‘There’s too much grunting for my liking.’

  Timoken laughed. ‘We’re talking about sand,’ he said.

  The wizard sighed. ‘Of course, what else.’

  The hills that had looked so blue and gentle at a distance were beneath them now. They were not blue, nor softly rounded, but a long escarpment of pale gold rocks, dotted with bracken.

  On the other side of the hills lay a great plain, dissected by several rivers. And here there were small hamlets, and men and women working the tilled land, who saw the camel pass right over them. Shading their eyes, the people stared and stared but couldn’t believe what they saw: a flying beast with two riders, and a crimson cloak that swirled in the wind like a great banner.

  Soon soldiers would come and ask about the camel, and people would try and describe what they saw.

  The wizard guessed all this. Shouting into the wind, he cried, ‘Boy, we must find a safer place; a wilderness, many, many miles from here. Can your camel go much further?’

  ‘He can cross an ocean.’ Timoken replied.

  ‘I should have guessed,’ said Eri.

  They were still in the air when night clouds began to unfold across the sky. The clouds were the same colour as the wizard’s eyes; a dark and stormy grey.

  ‘We should take a rest,’ Eri murmured, ‘and continue in the morning.’

  Looking down, Timoken saw a pale sweep of land, almost white in the dusk, and beside it milky lines of foam rolling in from the sea.

  ‘Sand!’ Timoken cried. ‘Gabar, we’ve found sand.’r />
  The camel gave a bellow of delight and plunged towards the earth.

  ‘Your camel acts fast,’ screeched the wizard, gulping air. ‘My eyes are rattling in my head.’

  They landed with a bump and a slight skid as Gabar’s hooves dug into the soft sand. He crouched to let the riders off his back and the wizard tumbled sideways onto the sand, while Timoken slid down gracefully.

  ‘Why here?’ Eri complained. ‘There’s nothing.’ He got to his feet and rubbed his bottom. ‘No wood to burn, no hares to catch. Nothing, nothing. We can’t even drink the water, it will all be salt.’

  Timoken wanted to say, ‘My camel must sometimes be rewarded.’ Instead, he nodded at the wooded hills beginning at the far end of the beach. ‘There are your trees, and your food, and probably a stream of clear water.’

  ‘Two miles distant at least,’ grumbled the wizard. ‘I have never seen such a long, miserable stretch of nothing.’

  ‘There are probably fish,’ Timoken remarked, looking at the sea. ‘And you don’t have to walk. Gabar will be happy to carry us over the sand.’

  ‘I am numb,’ argued the wizard. ‘I cannot sit on a hump any longer.’

  Timoken couldn’t hold back his laughter, and the old man, hearing his own grumbling voice, began to laugh too.

  Timoken ran to the sea to bathe his hands and feet. The wizard ambled after him. The water had a refreshing, icy bite.

  ‘Aaaah!’ sighed Eri, as he splashed his dusty face. ‘I’d forgotten the sea’s restorative power. I can go on now, boy. I can even sit on a hump.’

  The camel was galloping back and forth over the sand, bleating and burbling with delight. When Timoken called to him, he obediently came and knelt to let the riders mount. But he was impatient to be off again, and hardly had the wizard made himself comfortable than Gabar set out, galloping over the sand like a wild horse.

  Eri groaned a little but didn’t complain. They were heading for the woods where he could catch a hare or a pigeon, build a fire and cook. He wondered what the boy could do. Almost anything, he supposed, with that hint of a crown in his thick hair, and with his flying camel, his animal talk and the mysterious glitter in his red cloak.