by Kate Forsyth
‘Including your brother?’ Jack spoke harshly.
She nodded her head, looking frightened. ‘He wouldn’t have been able to do anything to help, though,’ she babbled. ‘The queen’s commanders—’
‘They’re being taken to your castle, though,’ Jack pointed out.
‘It’s the closest,’ she answered defensively.
‘Is there some secret way into your castle?’ Peregrine demanded. ‘A passage or hidden door?’
She shook her head. ‘No. It’s very well guarded, because of the rebels, you know. There’s a moat around it filled with pikes and poisonous water snakes and blood-sucking leeches, and the only entrance is guarded night and day. And then, of course, there are the dogs. They’d tear any intruders to pieces’. She paused for a moment, then her eyes brightened. ‘I could get you in, of course’.
Peregrine sat staring at the castle, his hands clenched together.
‘We can ride straight there. Oh, let’s! We’ll have a feast. My brother’s cook is the best in all the counties. We’ll be able to sleep in a bed. I can have a bath and change my clothes. Oh, please, your Highness … please, Robin’.
‘We can’t risk it,’ Jack said anxiously. ‘They are your enemies, sir!’
‘I know,’ Peregrine said. ‘I’m sorry, Grizelda’.
She began to storm at him, striding up and down, alternating between ordering him to take her home ‘right now!’ and begging him like a child.
‘Tell me, how well do you know Vernisha?’ Peregrine’s voice cut through hers, an odd note in his voice. His eyes were fixed on the tall white castle, banners snapping in the breeze.
‘I’ve met her,’ Grizelda said cautiously. ‘She goes on progress in the spring and summer, you know, and stays with each of the counts in turn. It costs us a fortune!’
‘So why do you think her flag is flying above your brother’s castle now, in the very midst of winter?’ Peregrine asked very quietly.
Grizelda lost colour. ‘Well, she came … to demand my brother’s help, you know. I told you! She wanted our dogs to pull the sleds’.
‘So the queen is at your castle right now? And you tried to persuade his Highness to go there?’ Jack was furious.
‘I didn’t know she was still there! And he would have been in disguise’.
‘Until you betrayed him!’
‘I wouldn’t have! How dare you say that! It’s so unfair. It’s a big castle. No-one would need to know he was there!’ Her voice rose higher and higher.
‘If you don’t shut up, I’ll gag you again,’ Jack threatened.
‘You wouldn’t dare!’
‘Watch me!’
‘How can you let him speak to me so?’ she appealed to Peregrine. ‘He’s an ill-mannered lout!’
‘He’s right, though,’ Peregrine said. ‘You’ll bring the soldiers down upon us. If they cut off somebody’s ears for listening to gossip about the queen, imagine what they’ll do to me’.
Grizelda bit her lip and struggled to control her temper. ‘Please, Robin’.
He shook his head. ‘They have my parents captive, do you really think I’d be so stupid as to let them get their hands on me too?’
He spoke so savagely that she said no more, though she kept glancing longingly at the castle.
‘Well then,’ she said, when they were all packed and ready to go. ‘I might just head on home. You don’t need me on this mad adventure of yours. I’ll be quite safe between here and the castle’.
Jack had been expecting this. He came up close, glowering down at her. ‘I don’t think so. Do you think we’re fools? You’ll have the army out and hunting us down within minutes. No, you’re coming with us, princess’.
‘I won’t! I promise I won’t tell a soul’.
‘No, you won’t, because I’m going to make sure you don’t’. Jack whipped out a long scarf that he had been hiding behind his back. Grizelda opened her mouth to scream, but Jack had his arm clamped about her neck and the gag over her mouth in seconds. She kicked and struggled but he was too strong for her, tying the gag tightly behind her head. ‘That’s better,’ he said in satisfaction as he hauled her over to his horse. ‘I think you can ride with me, at least until we get out of Zavaria’.
Oskar growled, his hackles rising. Jack said, dropping one hand to his sword, ‘If your dog attacks me, I’ll have to kill him’.
Grizelda at once flung up one hand, palm outward, and the dog subsided, though his lean body was still tense and ready for action.
‘I’m sorry,’ Peregrine said. ‘Please forgive me. I wish there was some other way, but you must realise the risk is too great’.
‘Mmmf-mmmf!’ she mumbled.
‘It won’t be for long,’ he promised. ‘Just till we get away from here’.
They left the road behind them, riding cross-country through the fields, Oskar running close behind. As far as possible they kept to the shelter of hedgerows and trees, watching carefully for any signs of life. How Peregrine wished Stiga was flying before them, her keen owl-sight alert to any danger. His heart ached and his eyes were hot, but he set his jaw and would not let the tears flow. He had to get help for his parents!
Swartburg Castle glowed on its hill, all its windows flaming with light. No matter how the landscape dipped and rolled, the castle was always there, dominating the skyline. At last it began to dwindle, shrinking in the distance, and the dark mass of the Swartwood Forest came ever closer, offering the hope of refuge.
All the time he rode, leading Grizelda’s horse and keeping Blitz tucked close to his chest, Peregrine wondered about the man who, he was sure, still followed quietly along behind them. What did he want? Why did he follow so close he could shoot an owl down out of the sky, and yet not shoot at them?
It seemed to make no sense.
CHAPTER 13
Vernisha the Vile
THE TIES OF THE NET WERE LOOSENED AND LILIANA TUMBLED out onto the cobblestones of the courtyard at the heart of Swartburg Castle. Seconds later, Rozalina rolled on top of her, with Merry and Zed falling helter-skelter behind.
It took them a few seconds to sit up and recover. Liliana examined one grazed elbow, then looked about her in dismay.
Grey walls towered all around, topped with steeply pointed towers. From each steeple long pennants hung, bearing the swan ensign of Vernisha the Vile.
Vernisha herself was waiting for them. Bloated as a body louse, she was barely contained within the broad spread of her throne, a massive carved and gilded affair carried aloft by two unhappy-looking hobhenkies, thick iron collars about their necks. Her face was as round and plump as a giant soufflé, her eyes peering from between the puffy slits like peeled goose-berries. Bracelets were embedded in the bulging fat of her wrists, and rings jammed onto every sausage-like finger. On her head she wore a silver crown, studded with sapphires and diamonds, with one blue diamond as large as one of her fat fists.
An obese pug dog was cradled in the crook of her arm, panting heavily, his bulging eyes watering. Both mistress and dog were dressed in identical green and cerise striped gowns, with orange fur mantles draped over their shoulders.
Vernisha clapped her hands at the sight of the four bruised and shaken captives. ‘Look what we’ve caught ourselves! A bag of fools’.
The crowd gathered in the courtyard all laughed. There were about two hundred people crushed together, ranging from courtiers in fur robes and extravagant hats to pot-boys in thin rags, with curious, fearful eyes. Soldiers in silver armour with long halberds stood in stiff rows, the face guards on their helmets lowered.
Stiffly King Merrik got to his feet and helped Liliana up. Zed helped Rozalina to her feet too. Her face bore the crisscross imprint of the net. They were all shivering with cold, having been dragged from their beds at midnight and not permitted to grab a cloak or fur mantle before being herded into the net for the dreadful trip to Swartburg Castle. If Liliana had not banished the snowstorms and called warmer weather, it would have been four froze
n blue corpses tumbling out of the net.
‘Good evening, Vernisha,’ King Merrik said with dignity. ‘I would be lying if I said I was pleased to see you again. Twenty-five years has not been long enough’.
A mottled mauve colour crept up her fat cheeks, but Vernisha smiled. ‘Well, speaking for myself, I haven’t been so delighted in a long time. You should have been squashed like a bug years ago’.
‘I rather think you’ve tried, numerous times, but failed,’ King Merrik replied.
‘Yet here you are, at my mercy’.
‘Mercy is not a word I associate with you, Vernisha’.
She smiled. ‘Nor should you. I’ve been planning my revenge for years now and, believe me, mercy has nothing to do with it. I’ll make sure you die as slowly and as painfully as possible’.
King Merrik said steadily, ‘On what charges, Vernisha? Where are my judge and jury? Or have you dismantled the law of the king’s court along with the law of primogeniture?’
She waved one fat hand. ‘Big words for a little man’.
He bowed. ‘Indeed, I must seem small beside you. Small in stature does not mean small in spirit, however’.
She narrowed her eyes, her colour deepening.
King Merrik looked around the crowd. ‘Let it be noted that I have been seized unlawfully and kept against my will. I am the rightful King of Ziva, being the grandson of Princess Drusilla, eldest daughter of King Zhigor the Sixth. Vernisha is nothing more than a tyrant and a bully. Do not permit her to lead you into murder and treason’.
‘I am queen! Call me your Majesty!’
‘You are no more the Queen of Ziva than I’m a fat flounder,’ Merry said in a bored-sounding voice.
Vernisha’s face turned the colour of an eggplant. ‘Teach him how to treat his queen with respect!’
At once half-a-dozen soldiers rushed at King Merrik with clubs. Zed did his best to protect the king, but since both men were unarmed, barefoot and exhausted after the long, cramped hours in the net, the struggle lasted only a few minutes. King Merrik was knocked to the ground and kicked and beaten mercilessly. Liliana struggled to get to him, but was seized by a soldier who swung around to slap her across the face. Liliana’s hand flew up and caught his wrist. For a moment, he stared at her in surprise. Then his eyes rolled back and he fell, dead. The other soldiers all sprang back with cries of alarm.
A hum of amazement and fear rose from the crowd. Vernisha’s eyes bulged from her head. ‘Witch!’ she screamed. ‘We’ll burn you at the stake!’
Liliana knelt and cradled King Merrik’s head in her hands. Slowly the blood oozing from his cuts ceased flowing and the grazes and bruises faded away. King Merrik sat up, gripping her hands, his face filled with sorrow. Tears crept down Liliana’s cold face. It was a terrible thing to touch someone and stop their heart. Although Liliana had fought beside her husband for years, being as skilful with her longbow as any of his archers, she had never before killed anyone with her bare hands. It made her feel sick and unclean. Her Gift was meant to heal, not kill. Yet she knew she would do it again if she had to.
‘It won’t do any good,’ he whispered.
‘I could not stand by and watch them hurt you,’ she replied in a low voice.
‘We need to be strong. We must not lower ourselves to their level’.
‘They drag us down,’ she said, weeping harder.
‘No,’ he said passionately. ‘If we are to die today, let it be with our heads held high’.
She nodded, pressing her wet face into the sleeve of her white linen shift.
‘We must try to stay alive,’ he whispered. ‘Tom-Tit-Tot will have told the Erlrune by now. Help will be on its way’.
‘Get me some firewood! We’ll burn them all now!’ Vernisha raged.
Rozalina stepped forward, her eyes blazing with anger. ‘It is Yuletide! Will you break the truce?’ Even in her thin chemise, with bare feet and ruffled black hair, she looked every inch a queen. ‘I thought the starkin valued their honour? Is it honourable to beat a prisoner of war, a man who has done no wrong except to fight against tyranny and injustice? Is it honourable to attack an enemy’s castle in the dead of winter? The twelve days of Yule have been a time of truce and a celebration of peace for as long as history remembers’.
A silence had fallen over the crowd. Even Vernisha had fallen under the spell of Rozalina’s sweet, low voice.
‘Yule is the lowest, darkest, coldest time of the year,’ Rozalina went on, every word throbbing with conviction. ‘I know it is hard, at times, to believe that winter will ever end’.
There was a faint sigh of agreement.
‘It is easy to begin to despair when the hours of the night are so long and the hours of sunlight so short’. Rozalina leant forward persuasively. ‘That is why the ancient law of chivalry forbids fighting and war during these days. We must have faith in the turn of the wheel towards warmth and brightness again. We must not allow our spirits to be dragged into evil!’
Somewhere in the crowd, someone sucked in a long, sobbing breath. Everyone gazed at Rozalina, transfixed.
‘Am I to believe that those of starkin blood have forgotten honour and valour and courtesy? That your great lords care nothing for law and justice?’
‘No!’ a man cried. ‘We haven’t forgotten, Queen Rozalina!’
The use of Rozalina’s title penetrated Vernisha’s fascinated haze. She scowled and looked to see who had spoken. ‘Seize him, whoever he is! I’m the queen! Me and only me!’
Soldiers looked around in confusion. Whoever had spoken had shrunk back, and people had been so spellbound by Rozalina’s words that they had not noticed who it was. Everyone murmured and looked at each other sideways.
‘And gag that witch! I’ll not have her try to bewitch us with her evil tongue’.
Warily soldiers approached Rozalina, one tearing a linen cloth into strips.
‘Think what you do!’ Rozalina called. ‘Think how you will be remembered. Are we of the wildkin to know more of chivalry than you great starkin lor—?’ Her last word was cut off as the gag was roughly shoved into her mouth, and she was pushed down onto her knees. The other three were forced to kneel too, the cold stone striking up through their thin nightclothes. Sharp halberds were held to their necks. Someone hurried into the courtyard, staggering under a great load of firewood. Liliana’s heart quailed within her.
‘Say a word and I’ll cut your throats,’ the captain snarled.
Zed and Merry placed their arms protectively around their wives as a babble of voices broke out. A man with ice-blue eyes and two tall hound dogs at his heels approached the throne, bowing deeply.
‘Your most honoured Majesty, surely we cannot allow a wildkin witch to know more of chivalry than us! We must not kill them. Not yet, anyway’.
Vernisha pouted like an obese baby, then shrugged her shoulders pettishly. ‘Very well then, drag them down to the dungeons. There are only six days left till Yule is over. We can have some fun with them before we kill them!’
As the sun was coming up, Peregrine, Jack and Grizelda stopped in a small glade with running water so the thirsty horses could drink their fill. The snow was only thin on the ground, so they would be able to forage easily. This was a relief, since the horses had been ridden hard for days with only what meagre grass they could find and a double handful of oats each day. Already the panniers were almost empty.
Swartburg Castle could still be seen in the distance, rosy in the dawn light. Peregrine sat on his horse and stared at it, wondering where his family was, what was happening to them now. Were they in a dungeon somewhere? Were they hurt? The mild weather made him ill with fear. Surely his mother would be raging mad, and the weather with her?
Jack lifted Grizelda down from his horse and ungagged her. ‘No point screaming, there’s no-one for miles,’ he warned her. ‘And if you do scream I’ll just gag you again’.
She stomped away from him, going to the stream and falling down on her knees to drink the
icy water. She washed her face and hands, and then, keeping her back to the boys, snapped her fingers to Oskar. He came immediately, ears pricked, and she rotated one finger. At once he cocked his leg against a tree and released a stream of yellow urine.
Peregrine watched him, silent and morose. He did not answer when Jack spoke to him and did not eat when Jack put a piece of flatbread with pheasant stuffed inside it into his hand.
‘What’s wrong, sir?’ Jack asked anxiously. ‘Are you not well?’
‘If I’m not mistaken this is the Swartwood Forest,’ Peregrine said abruptly.
‘Yes, it is,’ Grizelda said. ‘Why? What’s wrong with that?’
‘My mother’s parents were murdered in this forest,’ Peregrine replied. ‘They were led here by a man, a hunter, who told them he had heard stories of an ancient spear being found in the woods. He stole all their supplies and left them with only a loaf of bread. It was poisoned’.
There was a long silence.
‘My grandmother survived just long enough to make it back to Stormlinn Castle. She ate only a slice. My mother wouldn’t touch it, it was too hard and bitter. And so she survived. She was only a little girl’.
Again nobody spoke.
‘Our hunter follows us still,’ Peregrine said. ‘I can sense him out there. He’s baffled. He doesn’t understand where we are headed. Yet somehow he manages to follow us’.
‘We’ve tried not to leave a trail but it’s hard. The snow is melting and the horses’ hooves sink into the mud’. Jack spoke defensively.
Peregrine pressed his fingers against his eyes. ‘Grizelda, tell me about the dogs’.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Those dogs the hunter has. Your family is famous for breeding dogs, you must know something about them’.
Grizelda answered reluctantly. ‘Well, I suppose if you know that much about my family, you will know about our sleuth hounds. They’re used for tracking game’.
‘Game like us? Human game?’
