“What did you see, Al?” asked Amy.
“Step back, Dad,” Alfie called. “I think I can open it.” His dad and teacher moved away from the carving as Alfie pressed each of the bricks in the order they were labelled. They moved very slightly into the wall as he pushed on them. The instant he hit the fourth the two torches held by the carved knights burst into flame. There was a faint clanking from deep within the walls. A hairline gap appeared between the two knights and they began to slide apart with a soft grating noise, coming to rest on either side of a dark entrance.
“Amazing!” said Miss Reynard. “However did you figure that out?”
“The bricks were a bit smoother than the others,” said Alfie, thinking quickly. “I wondered what would happen if I pressed them.”
“Very clever!” said Alfie’s dad, taking one of the flaming torches from the wall and passing another to Miss Reynard. “Shall we?”
Alfie and Amy rushed through first. The flickering torches revealed a door ahead of them and the start of a spiral staircase to their left. The door led into a large round room.
“It’s an armoury!” gasped Miss Reynard as their torches revealed walls lined with swords and spears. Hanging on crude wooden mannequins in the centre of the room were chain-mail shirts, each with a pair of iron gloves. Alfie knew that if Robin was there he would be telling everyone that they were called gauntlets. He pulled a pair on. They were lighter and more flexible than he expected, and the chain mail looked much easier to wear than the suits of armour in the rest of the castle. He had given up trying those on until he was at least a foot taller and a lot stronger.
“How do I look?” asked Amy, giving a twirl. She was wearing one of the mail shirts with the hood up.
“Like a weird robot,” laughed Alfie.
Amy made a noise like an engine whirring and marched stiffly around the room. Alfie laughed, but secretly wondered why Orin would have so much weaponry and armour in the castle. Did the druid think that Alfie would have use of it all? The castle wasn’t exactly turning out to be as safe as he had first imagined it to be.
Alfie’s dad was unlocking another door. “If I’m right,” he said as he turned the handle, “This should lead out on to…” he swung the door open, “Yes! The higher battlements.”
Alfie rushed outside and leant over the stone wall to look down on to the lower battlements where he had hidden from Ashford the night the butler was kidnapped. “I’ve flown up here on Artan but have been looking for the key to that door for ages!” he whispered to Amy. “Now we know where it leads. I can’t wait to show Madeleine and Robin.”
The room on the next floor was filled with many different types of clothing from several continents. Miss Reynard informed them that they dated from the mid-1400s to the late 1600s.
“How wonderful!” she exclaimed as she examined embroidered Persian tunics and elaborate Italian robes from the Renaissance period. “If these belonged to Orin Hopcraft I have no idea how he got them. Hardly anyone left their region, let alone the country, in those days.”
“Disguises?” whispered Amy in Alfie’s ear.
“To fit in with the locals on his excursions with Artan,” Alfie grinned. With a flying bearskin rug, Orin was bound to be the most widely travelled person in the Middle Ages, but he couldn’t exactly tell Miss Reynard that. He promised to let Miss Reynard borrow some of the clothing for her history lessons and they continued up the stairs.
The next room was so full that they had to squeeze themselves among tables and stone pedestals holding all manner of fantastic objects from around the world. Miss Reynard rushed from item to item with such excitement that she reminded Alfie of Madeleine. There was an ornate turban, a highly detailed coloured glass goblet, pearl and jewelled necklaces and rings, and a very long silk scarf embroidered with every animal Alfie could name – and lots he couldn’t.
Under many of the objects were notes written in different languages. Miss Reynard was able to translate the ones in more recognizable languages such as French and German. “They’re thank-you notes,” she told Alfie. “This one, with the ruby ring, is from Charles VIII of France for healing sores on his legs. This one, with the painting of the hare, is from a German artist, thanking Orin for procuring rare coloured pigments for him.”
“Look at this!” Alfie’s dad called out. They joined him as he stood gazing transfixed at a small silver sparrow on a marble plinth. Each of its feathers was finely engraved with tiny details that made it look extremely true to life.
“There’s a key,” said Amy, picking up a small metal object from beneath it. “Do you think it can be wound up?”
Alfie found a tiny hole under one of the wings. He clicked the key into place and turned it, removing it when it could turn no more. They all watched the bird with baited breath.
“It blinked!” cried Alfie. The little bird’s head suddenly twitched from side to side and then it lifted its wing and groomed the feathers beneath. When it was satisfied, it straightened up, gave its tail feathers a little shake, and then opened its tiny beak to chirrup a beautiful melody.
“Amazing,” said Alfie’s dad as the bird hopped from foot to foot in time with its own tune. “How does it work?”
Amy let out a little yelp as, without warning, the bird launched itself into the air, brushing her cheek with its wing tip as it whizzed past her and circled the room twice before coming back to rest on the plinth. There was a soft whirring noise as it clicked back into its original position and wound down. Alfie smiled to see the childlike wonder on his dad’s face.
“Only a true genius would be able to make something like this, Alfie. He or she is a better inventor than I could ever hope to be. There’s no note. I wonder if Orin built it?”
“There’s something engraved here,” said Alfie, squinting to make out two letters on one of the tail feathers. One was engraved over the other. “There’s a D … and the other is … yes, it’s an L.”
“DL … DL…” his dad repeated. “Wait! Let me see that!” he almost knocked Alfie over in his haste to see the initials. His face went white and he staggered backwards. Alfie grabbed his dad’s arm as his legs appeared to give out.
“I don’t believe it … I don’t believe it,” he muttered between deep breaths. “It can’t be.”
“Will, are you OK?” asked Miss Reynard, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “What is it?”
“I have to check something.” He dashed to the spiral staircase. “Wait there! I’ll be back!” he called as he disappeared.
“What’s got into Mr B?” asked Amy as his footsteps faded away below them.
“He usually gets like that when he suddenly thinks of a solution to something he’s been working on,” said Alfie, puzzled. “I’ve never seen him quite that excited before though.”
They marvelled at the rest of the room’s contents as they waited. Inside a long, soft roll of leather, Alfie found more weapons: two beautifully made wooden bows inlaid with a delicate silver pattern.
“They’re beautiful,” said Amy, lifting one of them and pulling back the string with difficulty. “Do you know how to shoot?”
Alfie shook his head. “Granny tried to teach me but I’m always twanging the inside of my elbow. These are going straight to Madeleine and Robin.”
“How very kind of you,” said Miss Reynard. “Just make sure they never bring them to school – even without arrows!” There was a scrambling noise on the stairs and Alfie’s dad burst into the room, panting. He was holding a heavy book.
“I was right!” he laughed. “It wasn’t DL, it was LD. Look!” He flipped rapidly through the pages of the book and, below a sketch, he pointed to the two letters entwined in the same way. Alfie suddenly understood. It was his dad’s favourite book. They had pored over its pictures together many times. They were by his dad’s favourite artist and inventor. He stared wide-eyed at his dad as they both started to laugh in amazement.
“What?” said Amy. “Who’s LD?”
Miss Reynard was a bit quicker on the uptake as she showed Amy the book cover.
“No. Way!” said Amy. “Leonardo da Vinci?”
“It has to be,” Alfie’s dad flipped to a page featuring diagrams of a mechanical lion. “He presented this to the king of France in 1515. It walked on its own and its chest opened to reveal a bunch of lilies.”
“He built several clockwork devices before this,” said Miss Reynard, sounding just as excited herself. “One was a robotic knight in armour that could move its arms and sit down.” Alfie noticed his dad gaze at Miss Reynard as though this was the most wonderful thing she could have said. Alfie felt a little spark of jealousy, but it vanished under the waves of his dad’s almost delirious happiness at the little bird created by da Vinci himself.
“How Orin ended up with a castle of such wonders is completely beyond me,” said Miss Reynard. “If only we could speak to him. What adventures he must have had!”
“If only there was a way,” smiled Alfie.
Beltane
The twins came up to the castle early the following day. Madeleine cried out with delight as Alfie presented her with one of the bows he had found in the eastern tower. She nocked an arrow and drew back the string in one fluid movement.
“Our bows are competition quality, but these! These are amazing!”
“Thank you so much, Alfie,” said Robin, examining his gift. “Are you sure you want to give these to us?”
“Shhh!” Madeleine clutched her bow close to her chest. “If he wants it back, he’ll have to fight me for it.”
“No need for that,” said Alfie quickly. “I’m no good with those things anyway.” Granny had been training the twins in archery since they were very young, but even so, they had an almost unnatural talent for it.
Everyone was very excited about the Beltane celebration that was taking place that evening. Alfie’s dad had gone down to the village to help Granny set up stands. He hadn’t seemed to want to leave the little bird that had been constructed by his hero. Alfie had moved it down to the Great Hall so that every visitor to the castle could see it, which resulted in his dad’s cornflakes turning to mush in his bowl as he admired it over breakfast.
There was plenty of time before they had to get ready for the festival, so Alfie decided to show the twins the discoveries of the night before.
“Hey, Ash,” said Amy as they passed the butler emerging from his room. “We’re going up the eastern tower. Alfie found the way in. Fancy joining us?”
“I’ll give it a miss,” said Ashford, heading for the kitchen. He was wearing stripy pyjamas with dress shoes and had a cravat tied in a bow around his neck.
Alfie felt the others giving him a sideways look. Amy nudged him to say something.
“Ashford, are you OK?”
The butler stopped and looked at Alfie, his head tilted quizzically.
“It’s just that you’re dressed…” he tailed off, unsure of how to say it.
“Like a total weirdo!” finished Madeleine, earning herself a sharp glance from Robin.
Ashford looked down as though seeing his clothes for the first time.
“Ahh, I see what you mean,” he laughed.
“Do you need any, you know … help?” asked Alfie.
“Help?” repeated Ashford, eyebrows knitted together. “Ohhh, that kind of help.” He tapped his finger on the side of his head. “No, I’m as sane as I’ve ever been, thanks.” He grinned and turned to leave, then paused.
“Actually, there is something you might be able to help with. You’ve probably noticed that my memory hasn’t been the same since I got back. I’ve lost something quite valuable. For the life of me, I can’t figure out where it is.”
“We’ll help you look!” said Madeleine immediately. “What is it? Is it metal? I’ve got a metal detector; I’ll go get it!”
“No, no!” said Ashford quickly as Madeleine rushed for the door. “It’s private. A gift … for Emily. I was only wondering if you have any ideas about where I might have stored it?”
Alfie was glad that Ashford was going to make things up with Emily. He thought hard. “Maybe you left it in one of the drawers in the kitchens. Or have you tried the undercroft? You store lots of things down there.”
“Yes. The undercroft,” said Ashford, beaming. “I’ll start there.” He bounded away into the kitchens.
“He’s really not quite right, is he?” asked Amy worriedly.
“Maybe he hit his head or something when they shot him,” said Robin. “Or the elves might have drugged him, or brainwashed him; that’s why he’s not even angry at them.”
“He needs a doctor,” said Alfie, biting his lip at the thought of Ashford being brainwashed. “But I don’t think the one in the village would know what to do. Hopefully Caspian will take him to one of their healers when he comes tomorrow.”
Alfie led the way up to the tower. The twins spent hours looking through the treasures and trying on costumes and armour.
The upper floors had gone unexplored after the excitement of the silver sparrow. As they made their way up through the tower, Alfie was disappointed to find out that the rest of the rooms were empty. Chalked on the wooden floorboards of the room above Orin’s treasures was a message.
“Do not store anything above this room,” read Alfie. “That’s weird, I wonder why?”
Every room above that one was completely empty, even though the rooms below were so full it would have made sense to distribute the contents throughout the tower.
From the very top they could look down over Hexbridge.
“What’s that they’re setting up in the village hall car park?” Alfie asked, squinting down at the unmistakably human shape that was being constructed from long thin strips of wood. A little figure that he assumed was Granny directed from a distance.
“That’s the wicker man,” said Robin.
“What’s it for?”
“We burn it at sunset. It’s an old tradition, to ensure a good harvest, or something like that. Every year Jimmy Feeney tells everyone that they burned people inside them hundreds of years ago, but I asked Miss Reynard and she said that’s just a load of old rubbish the Romans made up. Me and Madeleine are part of the ceremony this year.”
“What are you doing?” asked Alfie.
“You’ll see,” said Robin. “These bows you gave us should come in handy for it.” Alfie was intrigued.
“Speaking of the festival,” said Madeleine. “We’d better get ready!”
It didn’t take long to get changed. Aunt Grace loved making costumes and had put together four simple green-and-yellow tunics for them to wear. They pulled these on over their jeans and T-shirts and began face-painting. Aunt Grace had only supplied one colour for them to paint with. Blue.
“What is this stuff?” asked Amy as she dipped a brush into the paint and trailed spirals on to the side of Madeleine’s face.
“Woad,” replied Robin, painting a blue mask across his face and eyelids. “It was used as a dye in medieval times. The Picts painted their faces and bodies with it. I hope Mum didn’t use as much raw dye this time. Last year it took days to come off.”
“OK, I’ll do yours now,” said Madeleine, admiring the pattern Amy had painted.
“No need.” Amy dipped three fingers into the pot of paint and pulled them down her cheeks and chin in three blue lines. Alfie thought Madeleine looked a little disappointed, but as usual, even in a tunic and face paint, Amy managed to look effortlessly cool.
“How about you, Al?” she asked, waggling her blue fingers in front of his face.
“I’m good,” said Alfie, a mischievous idea creeping into his head. “Want to see something really cool?” He had been thinking about Emily’s words more and more. He hadn’t had the nightmares since practising with the change magic. Perhaps it did make sense to take control of it before it took control of him. He concentrated, recreating the blue skin experiment he had done with Emily. He knew it was working when the others all l
eapt away from him.
“Whoa! What are you doing?” cried Amy.
“How are you doing it?” gasped Robin, cautiously approaching Alfie to stare at his pores.
Madeleine maintained her distance, her hand on a candlestick ready to throw it at Alfie if necessary.
“When I fought Murkle and Snitch in their dragon form, the magic Orin hid inside me stole their power to change shape.”
“So it’s in you now?” said Robin. “You can change form like they could? Alfie, this is unbelievable.”
“So you could become a dragon too?” said Madeleine. “Do it, Alfie. Do it!”
“That’s one form I’m definitely not going to try,” said Alfie quickly. He told them about the dreams and occasions the dragon scales had manifested.
“Urgh. Well, at least it isn’t turning you into Murkle or Snitch,” said Madeleine.
“So, what else can you do, Al?” asked Amy.
Alfie was made to turn every single colour the others could think of. He went on to amaze them by mimicking each of their faces, but was careful not to push himself too hard after the incident with the scales. It was weird to feel the hair growing from his scalp and flowing down over his shoulders as he transformed his face into Amy’s.
“So, yeah,” he said, flicking back the hair as he tried to imitate Amy’s voice. “It’s like, sooo hard being this awesome.”
“Really?” said Amy, hands on her hips. “You’re wearing my face and that was still the worst impression ever. Seriously. The worst!”
“It was a bit weird,” said Robin. “Come on, change back. We need to go down to the village.”
Alfie saw Ashford in the kitchens as they passed through the entrance hall. He had pulled everything out of all the drawers and moved on to the kitchen cabinets.
“Are you still looking for Emily’s present, Ashford?” asked Alfie.
Alfie Bloom and the Talisman Thief Page 6
