by Anne Forbes
“You haven’t told me what you think of my suggestion,” Lord Rothlan said evenly, ignoring the taunt.
Jezail shrugged his shoulders. “Oh, that,” he said casually. “I will, indeed, return Clara to you, but,” he leant forward, his face a mask of hatred, “only in exchange for the Book of Spells!”
Prince Kalman spoke again. “Clara knows all the spells by heart. You only have to ask her to write them down. We agree to that.” He looked round swiftly as Lord Rothlan and the MacArthur nodded assent.
Jezail’s hand reached for the bandage round his head and even as he pulled it off, blood ran from the deep lacerations that scored his head. “This,” he snarled, holding out the bloodstained bandage, “is all Clara’s doing.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Neil grinned. Obviously, Lord Jezail wasn’t having everything his own way! Clara was fighting back!
Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan, however, eyed one another seriously. Clara was too brave for her own good and angering Lord Jezail hadn’t been a wise move on her part.
“So,” Jezail snarled, wiping the flow of blood from his forehead, “now, at least, you understand why I will ask Clara nothing! And,” he continued, “let me make one thing quite clear — if you do not give me the book you will never see her alive again. It’s the book or nothing!”
There was a horrified silence as they all looked at one another in disbelief.
“But … that’s quite impossible, Lord Jezail,” the MacArthur interrupted, quickly. “There’s no way the Lords of the North will give you the Book of Spells!”
“No?” he looked at them contemptuously. And, stretching out his hands, he lifted up the crystal that held Clara so that they could see her, curled in its centre. “Then perhaps you should all go to the circus this evening. I think you might change your mind when you see what I have in store for Clara!”
15. Cats and Clowns
The circus tent was huge and the tiers of seats encircling the arena were packed with people; men, women and children, all thrilled and excited by the smell, colour and magic of the circus. The band, resplendent in bright red uniforms heavy with gold braid, played rousing numbers from a raised platform and, as the music blared, ponies, performing dogs, trapeze artists and acrobats all performed their acts.
Trumpets sounded as the ringmaster cracked his whip and brought on the clowns. John MacLean stiffened as soon as they appeared. “I think this is it,” he whispered, taking his wife’s hand. “Look, one of the clowns has a crystal ball. See him?”
Mrs MacLean swallowed hard and Lady Ellan looked at her apprehensively. Knowing the state she was in, everyone had tried to persuade her to stay at home but, predictably, Janet had insisted on coming. Clara was her daughter and she wanted to be there for her even if she couldn’t do anything to set her free. Now she sat straight and stiff in her seat, her eyes round with worry.
Sitting beside her, Lady Ellan, too, was worried, but for a different reason; for the minute they’d arrived, her husband and Prince Kalman had headed for the back of the circus tent to suss things out as they’d really no idea what Lord Jezail intended to do. Where were they now, she wondered as she scanned the outlandish figures of the clowns with their painted faces, long shoes and ridiculous clothes. Had they, perhaps, merged with the clowns to try to get the crystal back? And Neil? What had happened to him? He was supposed to be sitting with her in the audience but, she thought, seething with irritation, he’d obviously had his own ideas and had managed to lose himself in the crowd. There wasn’t a lot she could do about it, either. Apart from his firestone, he had no magic to speak of and if he were to cross Lord Jezail she didn’t give much for his chances. Why couldn’t he do as he was told!
Mrs MacLean gave a sudden moan and pressed her hands against her mouth as one of the clowns tossed the crystal ball through the air to another who pretended to miss it but caught it as it almost hit the ground. The clowns then threw the crystal ball to the jugglers who tossed it in the air with gay abandon.
It only took Lady Ellan a few minutes to work out that the crystal had been hexed. “It’s all right, Janet,” she whispered. “Lord Jezail must have put a spell on it. Whatever happens, it’ll land in someone’s hands.”
“Are you sure?” John MacLean asked sharply.
“Trust me,” Lady Ellan said, smiling grimly. “It’s all an act!”
Janet MacLean heaved a huge sigh of relief but despite the knowledge that it would never fall and break, her heart was in her mouth as, over and over again, she saw the crystal caught in the nick of time. In the end, she could hardly bear to watch. Where, she thought anxiously, were Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan? They had told her that they would rescue Clara and as far as she could see, nobody was doing anything at all to save her.
It was then that the tigers entered the ring.
There was a horrified hiss of indrawn breath from the audience, the band faltered in mid-note and, as the music petered out in a discordant wail of sound, the ringmaster whirled round to see why — and then blanched visibly as three tigers padded softly forward and halted in front of him.
Tigers on the loose! His worst nightmare! And there was no audience protection either! His mind raced frantically as he glanced at the petrified clowns who were now backing slowly and carefully into the audience. His legs suddenly felt very shaky indeed. Running away was out of the question. The tigers would down him in seconds. He clutched his whip tightly. What on earth was he going to do?
The audience, quick to notice that the band seemed to have totally lost the plot, shifted fearfully. Was this part of the act or not?
Neil, however, didn’t have time to take in the reaction of the audience. He was too busy trying to control his tiger who, to put it mildly, had a forceful character of its own and had quickly sensed that whoever was inside it could, at a push, be overruled.
It was all such a mess. Tigers were the last things they’d wanted to merge with and he knew that Lord Rothlan and Prince Kalman, too, must be absolutely livid. But they really hadn’t had much choice in the matter for the yobs who had thought it great fun to let the tigers loose had got more than they’d bargained for when the tigers, with terrifying growls, had leapt from their cages with startling speed and headed straight for them.
It was then that Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan had appeared from beside the circus tent and, seeing Neil, Lord Rothlan had snapped at him to merge with one of the tigers. As the alternative was allowing three tigers to run loose round the circus, he had seen his point but, nevertheless, it had taken every ounce of will-power he possessed to force his tiger to back off.
The broad entrance to the circus ring had emptied swiftly as Prince Kalman led the tigers into the blazing spotlights. His heart was heavy for he had hoped to merge with one of the clowns and knew that as tigers, they’d find it almost impossible to rescue Clara, wherever she was.
Sensing the waves of panic emanating from the audience, Prince Kalman sent a hex flying through the air and as the feeling of fear faded, he approached the white-faced ringmaster and sat down beside him. Taking their cue from the prince, the other two tigers did the same and looked at the petrified man through glowing amber eyes.
The ringmaster, to this day, can’t explain the voice he heard in his head. “Don’t worry about us,” it said. “We won’t harm anybody. Just keep calm and get the band to go on playing!”
Totally stunned, he looked into the tiger’s eyes and, to his amazement, saw a lively intelligence there.
“Go on, man!” Prince Kalman urged. “You don’t want the audience to panic, do you?”
The ringmaster gulped and, gathering his scattered wits, realized that the tiger was right. If there wasn’t going to be blind panic in the audience, he had to play along.
“Don’t worry,” the tiger repeated, accompanying his words with a gentle hex, “no one’s going to get hurt, I assure you.”
Meeting the tiger’s eyes, the ringmaster was suddenly reassured. He di
dn’t know what was going on but he knew instinctively that he could trust the animals. Relief swept through him and still half wondering whether or not he was dreaming, he bowed low to the tigers and, with a magnificent flourish of his whip, gestured to the band to play on.
The bandmaster, looking understandably doubtful at this gesture of supreme confidence, gulped noticeably, but seeing that the tigers seemed quite peaceful and that the ringmaster was obviously determined to go on with the show, he lifted his baton. The petrified band then launched, albeit rather shakily, into the catchy tune of the circus march.
Lady Ellan, mind racing, sat up straight in her seat, guessing immediately what had happened. Tigers? she thought incredulously! Surely they could have chosen clowns or even circus hands to merge with! “I’ll have to go,” she whispered hurriedly and before Janet could reply, pressed her arm reassuringly before slipping quietly down the aisle towards the circus ring and the clowns. The tigers, she knew, were going to need her help.
The audience, now quite relaxed, watched with increasing fascination as the bandmaster, blessed with inspiration, started to play the opening bars of the tigers’ routine. The tigers, tilting their heads to one side, listened to the familiar music and finding themselves on their home ground, so to speak, calmed down considerably.
Neil breathed a sigh of relief. He was finding it difficult to keep his tiger from running amok and it was only the presence of Lord Rothlan and Prince Kalman on either side of him that had kept his beast in check.
It was then that the principle clown, called Charlie, moved into the ring. Seemingly unafraid of the tigers, he carelessly tossed a crystal ball from one hand to the other. Clara! Neil thought, glancing apprehensively at the other two tigers. Like them, he knew she was there. He could just make out her tiny figure, curled in the middle of the ball.
For a moment, he was tempted to let his tiger attack the clown, for one look at Charlie’s triumphant face was enough. Lord Jezail had merged with him. Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan obviously thought so, too, for their tigers bared their teeth and a low growl rumbled in their throats.
Jezail, however, merely shrugged and, gesturing to the other clowns to come forward, started their act all over again. The petrified clowns, however, had other ideas. They knew exactly how fierce the tigers were and as they threw the crystal half-heartedly among themselves, a ripple of unease swept through the audience.
By this time, both Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan had worked out that the crystal ball was hexed but apart from attacking Lord Jezail — and freaking out the audience in the process — there didn’t really seem to be a lot they could do. And Jezail obviously knew it!
Aware that he had the upper hand, the magician smiled contemptuously and proceeded to make a fool of the tigers. Throwing the crystal confidently over their heads to one of the more daring of the clowns, he cavorted round them, pulling funny faces that set the audience roaring with laughter.
It was then that Prince Kalman noticed that the clown with the crystal hadn’t thrown it back but was tossing it carelessly into the air as if deciding whom to throw it to next. Hope rose in his heart. Could it possibly be Lady Ellan?
He watched as Jezail’s eyes sharpened. He was becoming suspicious at the delay and as the magician’s arm rose to throw a hex, the prince decided it was definitely time to take a hand in matters. If Jezail could play the audience for laughs, why then, so could he! He gave a grim smile, threw a hex and waited …
The huge square of shiny, yellow plastic that suddenly appeared beneath Jezail’s feet took the magician by surprise. It appeared inoffensive enough but it was only when he took a step forward that he discovered it wasn’t nearly as innocent as it looked. Indeed, it had the kind of surface a skater would have died for. He gave a howl of dismay as, despite frantic efforts to stay upright, his feet slid from under him and he landed flat on his back with a resounding thud that knocked the breath out of him.
The audience, thinking it all part of the act, cheered him on as he heaved himself furiously to his feet. He was hampered, however, by his long clown’s shoes which now seemed to be doing their best to trip him up. Try as he might, he just couldn’t keep his balance and, waving his arms wildly was left, once more, lying on his back.
His face, as he scrambled to his feet once more, was a picture of seething rage. Rage, Prince Kalman knew, at not being able to hex the clown who had so cleverly stolen the crystal from him. Lady Ellan, he thought, had stepped in just in time.
Then he fell again! The band could barely play for laughing, the clowns were helpless and the audience near hysterical.
Neil creased up. He couldn’t help it.
The tiger, of course, felt Neil’s laughter and looked somewhat bemused. Being a tiger, it wasn’t a sensation that it had ever experienced before but as Neil went on laughing, the tiger opened its mind to the feeling and found itself joining in. Before long, it was totally helpless, rolling on its back in the sawdust, flapping its paws in the air and roaring with a strange gurgling sound that was obviously its version of laughter.
The other two tigers turned, eyebrows raised, to look at it disapprovingly — it was hardly standard tiger behaviour, after all — then they caught the feeling. Creasing up, they all roared, howled and cried with laughter as Charlie, still persevering in his attempt to stay upright, floundered furiously on.
It was only when the exhausted tigers could laugh no more that Prince Kalman noticed that the animal trainer had arrived. Some of the clowns, too, had gone to help Charlie off the slippery plastic square and, as if that weren’t enough, a group of circus hands was hurriedly clipping together the barred segments of a shield round the ring to protect the audience from the tigers. They’d obviously done it many times before and were working fast. At the rate they were going, he reckoned, the cage would be completed in minutes.
He nudged Neil. It was definitely time to demerge from the tigers — and it had to be now, while escape was still possible. Yet they couldn’t risk the tigers turning on them either. He eyed Lord Rothlan and receiving a nod of understanding, hexed all the lights.
The animal trainer strode up as the lights came on again and looked down at his exhausted tigers in surprise. The tigers, however, proved remarkably docile and, obviously pleased to return to their familiar routine, did their best for him. It was only towards the end of their act that they caught sight of a rather puzzled-looking Charlie who, peering at them through the bars, was still trying to work out what had actually happened to him that evening.
The audience, however, hadn’t forgotten — and the tigers certainly hadn’t. Neil’s tiger gave a hysterical gurgle and, with a shake of its head, waved a helpless paw. That set the others off and as the audience roared with laughter, all of the tigers joined in. The animal trainer, looking at them in baffled wonder, hadn’t a clue what everyone was on about but decided there and then that if Charlie was that funny, he’d definitely include him in the act from then on.
No one in Arthur’s Seat that evening felt like laughing, however. One look at the crystal ball had told them all they needed to know. The curved shape that they’d thought was Clara was nothing more than a twisted scrap of cloth.
Clara wasn’t in it. The crystal was empty. She was still Lord Jezail’s prisoner.
16. The Tournament
There was no question about it — Arthur’s Seat had been totally transformed. Its grassy heights rose gently above the array of gleaming white tents and pavilions that formed the background for the tournament. It was, as Sir James had predicted, a wonderful spectacle. The grassy concourse was filled with people in mediaeval costume, visitors thronged the stalls and, mingling with the crowds, were jesters in multi-coloured clothes, their belled hats tinkling as they moved while pedlars, carrying trays of scarves, bangles and beads, shouted their wares. Even the usual vendors of popcorn, candy floss and ice cream had taken care to dress for the occasion.
The sun shone, flags fluttered in a gentle breeze and as c
rowds started to stream in from the High Street, the tiers of seating gradually started to fill up, while those unable to get tickets valiantly climbed the slopes, unfolding rugs, chairs and picnic hampers as they found a vantage point and settled to watch the spectacle from on high.
Neil looked at the scene with interest, glancing every now and again at Prince Kalman and Lord Rothlan who sat beside him. Dressed in their customary velvet robes and ruffled shirts, they were, in the circumstances, not at all out of place.
“Your mother didn’t object to your coming?” Prince Kalman queried.
“No, she was fine about it,” Neil answered. “I had to promise not to get up to mischief, though,” he grinned.
Lord Rothlan heard the conversation and smiled slightly. Although Neil didn’t know it, his parents had been hexed to cope with his sister’s disappearance and even his mother, who normally would have been worried sick, felt both comforted and secure in the knowledge that the world of magic would come to Clara’s rescue.
It was then that a very slight breath of magic filtered through the air. Although little more than a tremor it was enough to make Lord Rothlan stiffen slightly and look round curiously. Catching Prince Kalman’s eyes, he knew that he, too, had picked up on it. They looked round a trifle warily; nothing to worry about unduly but certainly close enough to ruffle their senses.
Thank goodness, the prince thought, that they’d put a strong protective shield round Neil. At least the boy was safe. His eyes searched the crowds as he tried to home in on the source of the magic but when the opening parade started, the feeling diminished and was lost altogether as the pipe bands marched past, heading a long line of performers. Groups of Scottish country dancers waved as they passed by, followed by Highland dancers, a troop of precision marchers and many, many more. The applause, however, grew to a deafening roar as, standards fluttering bravely in the breeze, Peter and Simon, the Black Knight and the Red Knight, splendid in shining armour, rode by majestically on their beautifully caparisoned horses; undoubtedly the stars of the show.
