The Starkin Crown

by Kate Forsyth

  He did his best to support her as the grey dusk and the flaming orange torches whirled together in a giddy kaleidoscope. ‘Be brave, darling. Keep your head high’.

  Liliana managed to straighten her back and lift her chin, though she shot Lady Grizelda a look of such burning reproach and accusation that the girl shrank back even further.

  Slowly the four condemned prisoners mounted the steps to the scaffold. A few starkin children, so bundled in furs they looked like mothballs, threw rotten fruit at them. Rozalina raised her hand and pointed at them, fingers spread wide. At once they squealed and dived behind their parents. Rozalina smiled grimly. She was still wearing the witch’s bridle and so had no power to curse them, but the starkin feared the wildkin queen so much they dreaded her smallest gesture.

  ‘Oh, goody, goody,’ Vernisha said. ‘I am looking forward to this. Rozalina, I think you should go first. We’ve got a red-hot nail all ready to hammer through your tongue. Then you, wildkin witch. We’ll chop off your hands and then leave you to watch while we gut your husbands. It should all be very entertaining’.

  ‘How can you be so cruel?’ Merry cried. He turned to the gathered crowd, huddled together for warmth before the scaffold. ‘Is this the kind of land you want? Where innocent women are tortured? Vernisha is a vile murderess and traitor to me, the rightful king. Her rule has brought nothing but a harvest of bitter sorrow. I implore you all to seize this moment and stand against her. Do not be a party to her wickedness!’

  As he spoke, lightning flashed brilliantly overhead. Thunder clapped.

  The crowd stirred, muttering. Vernisha yawned widely and waved one fat hand at the rows of soldiers standing along the walls, weapons at the ready. ‘Fighting words, my dear cousin. I assure you that anyone who listens will be joining you in a traitor’s death. Now, enough chitchat. Let’s get the show on the road’.

  Rozalina was seized and dragged towards one of the pillories. She was forced to kneel, her head and hands thrust through the holes and padlocked in place. One of the hooded men reached into the brazier with a pair of tongs and pulled out a long nail, glowing orange. Another hefted a heavy mallet. Rozalina was white and trembling, hardly able to believe what lay ahead for her. The hangman with the hammer ripped the witch’s bridle from her head and began to prise her jaws open. She bit him, and he cursed and sucked his finger then threatened to smash her jaw with the hammer if she did not open her mouth. Her jaw set firmly, Rozalina defied him. He raised high the hammer.

  ‘Wait!’ Liliana cried. ‘What’s that sound?’

  Far away, the haunting howls of dogs and wolves rose into the dusk. Then came strange yelps and shrieks, the call of hunting horns, and the triumphant shouts and hullabaloos of hunters.

  Vernisha sat upright, spilling Pugsie-Wugsie to the ground. ‘Quick, do it!’ she screamed. ‘Kill them all!’

  The hooded men ran to seize hold of Merry and Zed, but at once they began to fight back. Zed smashed one over the head with his manacles and then wrapped his chain about another’s throat, throttling him. Merry kicked one in the face then spun and ducked, tripping another attacker. Liliana smashed her iron fist into the face of the hangman with the hammer. As he fell back, hands to his bloody face, she seized the hammer awkwardly with her bound hands and began to wield it fiercely against the padlocks that held Rozalina trapped in the pillory.

  ‘Stop them!’ Vernisha cried.

  The soldiers ran forward, swinging their swords and halberds. Liliana smashed the last padlock just in time, seizing Rozalina’s hand and jumping off the scaffold into the crowd. Zed and Merry fought back to back, all their anger and frustration at last released in action.

  The crowd screamed and began to panic. Lords and ladies scrambled everywhere, treading on each other in an effort to escape.

  ‘Kill them! Kill them!’ Vernisha shrieked.

  Liliana clambered off the fat woman who had broken her fall, shoved her into the path of a soldier and hammered at the shackles that bound her ankles till they snapped free. Another soldier sprinted towards her and Liliana hurled the hammer, hitting him square between the eyes. He went down like a collapsing wall.

  Beside her, Rozalina was struggling with another leatherclad hangman. Liliana clasped her hands together and brought them down sharply on the back of his head. As he crumpled, she seized the hammer again and with a few desperate blows, her arms aching, managed to release Rozalina from her chains. Rozalina gathered her strength and aimed a precise blow at Liliana’s bonds, the gauntlets falling to the ground. Then Liliana threw the hammer to her husband, calling, ‘Merry!’ He caught it and at once began to strike at his own shackles, Zed standing over him and keeping the soldiers away.

  The wind howled. Hail clattered down, bouncing off the soldiers’ helmets. The eerie yowling and yelping grew ever louder. Liliana had no time to look up. She was fighting desperately against two soldiers, using a sword she had wrenched away from the soldier she’d knocked down with the hammer. Beside her, Rozalina had been seized and was now pinioned by two strong arms, a sword held to her throat. Up on the scaffold, Merry fell to one knee, only just able to block a sword that would have swept his head from his shoulders. Zed had his back to the gallows, fighting off three soldiers at once. He seized the dangling rope and swung high, kicking one of them in the face.

  A dark shadow fell over the courtyard. The last feeble rays of the sun were swallowed up. The only lights were those few torches still flaring and streaming in the blustering wind. Ice needles stabbed at Liliana’s face. Someone screamed hysterically. Liliana scrubbed away the frost blinkering her vision, glanced up and gasped.

  The Wild Hunt poured over the battlements of the castle, howling and ululating. All the remaining torches blew out as if with a single breath, and only flash after flash of lightning lit the courtyard. People screamed and struggled to escape, pushing against the soldiers who were doing their best to repel this eerie and unexpected attack. Liliana fell to her knees, exhausted and bewildered, unable to fight anymore.

  ‘Hey, Mam!’ a dearly beloved voice called.

  Liliana looked up and saw Peregrine astride an immense horse made of shadows and fire and smoke, its eyes glowing, its mane and tail writhing like vipers. Behind him clung a girl with wind-tossed brown hair, a quiver of arrows on her back.

  ‘Robin!’ Liliana cried. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I found the spear,’ he called back and lifted it high in his hand, aiming it at the gilded throne where Vernisha cowered, shrieking in terror. The spear was illuminated from tip to tail in golden fire, shedding radiance all over the courtyard. For a moment he hefted it, aiming carefully, then it flew from his hand like a blazing comet, shedding sparks.

  Vernisha screamed and threw herself back so violently the throne toppled over. Only her fat legs in striped stockings could be seen, kicking wildly in the air. The spear struck the underside of the throne, splitting it in two with a loud craaaaccck!

  Vernisha screamed again, turning topsy-turvy and thumping heavily to the ground, her legs over her head, revealing her flouncy lace-trimmed knickers. Her legs thwacked down to the ground and she struggled to sit up, purple-faced and indignant, the crown tipped over one ear.

  ‘I’ll take that!’ Peregrine cried. The glowing spear flew back to Peregrine’s hand and he brought the winged horse down to the ground, steam gushing from under its hooves. Jack’s winged mount landed lightly behind him, and the squire jumped down, sword in one hand and dagger in the other.

  Vernisha scrambled away, wheezing in terror. Peregrine slid off the horse and held up his hand for the brown-haired girl. She landed clumsily, catching at Peregrine for support. He steadied her.

  ‘Mam, this is Molly!’ he called. ‘Will you look after her? Molly, give her my bow and arrows!’

  Liliana leapt forward, pushing aside panicking courtiers, servants and soldiers to reach the brown-haired girl, who was being shoved from every direction. She seized the bow and quiver of arrows without a wo
rd, and with a few quick motions had deadly arrows flying into the crowd. One took out a soldier ready to murder Rozalina. Another zoomed through the throat of the soldier about to split Merry’s head in two. A third zipped through the soldier duelling with Zed.

  Liliana took a deep breath of relief. ‘Stay behind me,’ she said to Molly tersely, fitting another arrow to the bow.

  Molly ignored her. Peregrine had raced after Vernisha, but her pug had latched on to the hem of his cloak, growling deep in his tiny throat as he was swung this way and that. Molly reached forward and snatched the pug away. ‘Now, hush, else you’ll be trodden on,’ she said sternly. The pug dog subsided at once, rolling his bulging eyes up to her face then tentatively wagging his stump of a tail.

  Molly put the dog down and seized a broom, the only weapon to hand, and whacked it as hard as she could on the head of a soldier about to slash Peregrine with his halberd. The soldier crumpled and fell, and Molly hit out at another. The soldier turned to strike at her, but the pug darted forward under his boots and the soldier tripped and fell heavily. Then the pug latched triumphantly on to the soldier’s ear with his sharp teeth, snarling and worrying away at it. ‘Ow!’ the soldier cried.

  Liliana bit back a sudden, hysterical laugh and shot down a soldier about to sideswipe Molly. The brown-haired girl smiled gratefully, then her expression changed. Uttering a bloodcurdling war cry, she hit the head of a soldier about to stab Liliana, giving the queen time to whirl about and shoot him down.

  Soldiers boiled about, trying to protect Vernisha, kill the prisoners and fight off the Wild Hunt. It seemed as if there was no end to the broad figures in silver armour and helmets pouring out of the guardhouse and the castle, their weapons swinging.

  The two hobhenkies had joined the fray, using their chains to knock the enemy flying. Lord and Lady Grim were fighting with long daggers of ice. Many of the hearthkin servants had seized the moment to fight against their starkin oppressors, wielding wooden buckets, mops, brooms, saucepans and frying pans. To make things worse—at least for an archer trying to take aim in the melee—a hundred animals had suddenly materialised, coming to fight at Peregrine’s side. Ignoring the shrill whistles of Lord Goldwin and his sister, a pack of long-legged hound dogs tore into the soldiers with their sharp teeth. Pigs charged, squealing. Cats hissed, striking out with unsheathed claws. Rats writhed through the crowd, squeaking and biting. Geese flapped their strong white wings and snapped at soldiers with their sharp orange beaks. Blitz was diving at the soldiers’ heads, striking viciously with his talons. Then someone crashed backwards into the stables, and whinnying horses galloped out, trampling the screaming crowd under their hooves. Among them was a magnificent black stallion, plunging through the crowd towards Peregrine.

  ‘Sable!’ he cried in joy, but had no time to do more than pat the stallion’s satiny side before he had to turn back to the fray. Sable kicked down one starkin soldier and trampled another as Peregrine fought his way towards the scaffold. Jack’s brown gelding, Snapdragon, beside him fought with heavy hooves and strong teeth.

  The Wild Hunt was chasing soldiers and courtiers all over the castle. Some ran for the cellars and were chased back by packs of hungry rats, led by a particularly large and nasty-looking brute that kept somersaulting into new and terrifying shapes. Others fled towards the battlements and were hunted down by howling wolves. Others crept under furniture, only to have Lord Grim’s sons drag them out by their heels.

  The scream of a grogoyle split the night as the great winged beast soared overhead. Its fiery breath turned the massive gate to ash in a second. Pedrin waved jubilantly to Merry and Zedrin as an army of wildkin burst in through the front gate, led by the Erlrune and Lady Lisandre, both mounted upon river-roans and wielding silver daggers. Behind them marched a ragged crowd of hearthkin, fiery torches in their hands, and a charging herd of wild deer come from the forest.

  At once the tide of the battle turned. Soldiers began to throw down their weapons; servants fell to their knees, begging for mercy. A few still fought on, grim-faced and wild-eyed, but the cracking of the whips of grogoyles, the eerie singing of the lake-lorelei, the bellowing of the hobhenkies and the fierce faces of the hearthkin convinced them to surrender. Soon three hundred soldiers were all on their knees in the courtyard, heads bowed in a gesture of submission.

  CHAPTER 27

  The Starkin Crown

  ‘WHERE’S ROBIN?’ MOLLY AND LILIANA CRIED TOGETHER. They cast each other a wild glance, half-laughing, half-frightened, and turned as one to search the crowd.

  Peregrine had taken the brunt of the attack, but with Jack protecting his back, Blitz soaring and diving about his head, and Sable and Snapdragon kicking and rearing by his side, he had managed to fight his way through to where Vernisha cowered behind the scaffold.

  Peregrine raised the spear high.

  ‘No, please don’t kill me,’ she begged, fat hands held up in supplication. ‘Here, take the crown! It’s yours!’ She seized the crown from her head and flung it at Peregrine. He put up his hand and caught it. As he gazed down wonderingly at the glowing blue diamond, big as a goose egg, she snatched up a fallen halberd and brought it around with a shrill squeal of victory.

  Liliana screamed. Time seemed to slow as she watched the sharp blade swing towards Peregrine’s stomach. Then Blitz plummeted from the sky, shrieking with rage. The falcon clawed at Vernisha’s face and head. Screaming, trying to protect her face, Vernisha dropped the halberd. Her face went plum-red. She choked, clutched at her chest, and fell to the ground. One heel kicked wildly, then subsided.

  Peregrine looked up from his contemplation of the starkin crown to find the pretender-queen lying dead at his feet.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ he said and knelt beside her. There was no pulse. ‘I guess her heart just gave out,’ he said and looked for his mother.

  Liliana knelt by his side, drawing him close. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Robin-boy’. She gently drew the dead woman’s mantle over her face to hide her dreadful staring eyes.

  ‘I’m just amazed she actually had a heart,’ Molly said.

  Peregrine smiled wearily at her, leaning on the spear, the crown dangling from his hand.

  Suddenly a shadow fell over the three of them, taking them unawares. It was the grey-clad hunter, the knife in his hand plunging down towards Peregine’s back. Liliana cried out but there was no time to nock an arrow to her bow. Molly twisted and dropped the pug dog, who immediately flew for the hunter’s ankle, closing his tiny jaws on his boot. The hunter kicked him, head over heels and yelping, into the shadows. Molly flung herself before the knife, arm held up.

  The knife tore through her sleeve, drawing blood. It was seconds away from piercing the flesh of her breast when suddenly the hunter was dragged upwards by the scruff of his neck, legs flailing, high into the dark sky.

  ‘Let’s hunt!’ Lord Grim shouted. He held the kicking, squirming hunter with one strong hand. The dagger spun away to clatter harmlessly on the cobblestones. Peregrine caught Molly in one arm.

  ‘Are you alright?’ he demanded anxiously, bending over her.

  Molly smiled up at him. ‘I’m fine. It was only a scratch’.

  Together they watched as the hunter was borne away into the lightning-racked sky. Peregrine watched them go, waving the spear joyously. Lord Grim turned back to wave and salute. The hunter struggled and fought but could not break free. The Wild Hunt soared after Lord Grim, snatching up soldiers, fat courtiers and screaming ladies as they went, the hounds baying with hellish joy. As they disappeared into the snowstorm, the yelping and howling gradually faded away.

  The torches slowly spluttered back to life, glinting on the rows and rows of starkin soldiers, still kneeling in the icy slush. The hearthkin serfs began to cheer, waving their tools. The two hobhenkies danced a tumultuous jig. The dogs waved their plumy tails and pressed close to Peregrine’s legs, looking up at him with adoring eyes.

  Peregrine’s gaze dropped to the starkin crown, which he
still held in his other hand. Then he looked round the crowded courtyard and saw his father on the scaffold, the noose that was to hang him swaying in the breeze. Peregrine smiled and began to shoulder his way through the crowd, Blitz flying above his head.

  As he passed her, Grizelda curtsied deep to the ground, her head bent. Lord Goldwin bowed. The rest of the starkin lords and ladies stiffly followed their lead. Peregrine held the starkin crown in one hand and the glowing spear in the other. He shone as if with starshine.

  King Merrik, dishevelled and exhausted, was leaning on his sword. Peregrine knelt before him in the muddy snow and held up the crown.

  King Merrik dropped one blood-smeared hand on Peregrine’s unruly brown head and said hoarsely, ‘Thank Liah you’re alive! We were so afraid for you’.

  Then he let the sword fall with a clatter. He took a deep, steadying breath and took hold of the crown with both hands, lifting it and placing it on his brow.

  ‘All hail King Merry!’ Peregrine cried jubilantly.

  ‘All hail King Merry!’ Jack and Molly shouted.

  Zed stepped up beside Merry, bowing low, and then slinging one arm about his shoulder. ‘All hail the king!’

  Grizelda knelt ostentatiously, her turquoise skirts billowing around her in the wind. ‘All hail Merrik, the true king of Ziva!’ she cried, bowing her head so low her ringlets fell into the mud.

  Her brother dropped to one knee. ‘All hail the king!’

  One by one, the lords and ladies dropped to their knees in the filthy snow. A ragged shout went up, calling King Merrik’s name. Rozalina and Liliana both ran to embrace him, their faces shining through their tears. Then the Erlrune was there, hugging Peregrine, hugging Liliana. Lord Pedrin and Lady Lisandre rushed to join them, the grogoyle soaring above, bugling triumphantly, breathing great spouts of flame through the frosty night.

  ‘Welcome to my humble abode,’ Lord Goldwin said with a sweep of his fine feathered hat. ‘Thank heavens I can at last offer you the hospitality you deserve’.