The Stones of Ravenglass (15 page)

Tumi scrambled out and scampered for the door, but just before he left, Edgar, feeling a twinge of pity for the half-starved boy, called, ‘Here!’ and threw him a hunk of bread.

‘Thank you!’ Tumi mumbled gratefully, as he took a bite. He hid the rest of the bread up his sleeve.

Where to eat without being seen? There were guards everywhere. They’d send Tumi to the stables and he’d have to share with all the other boys. He crept along the side of the wall, past the well, and on to the stock-house, where all the food was stored. The door was open. Tumi couldn’t believe his luck. The guard’s back was turned; he was bending over and adjusting the cord on his boot. Tumi slipped behind the guard and into the dark store room.

Immediately inside, he began to stuff the bread into his mouth. He was so hungry he hardly bothered to chew, and almost choked on the last piece. His stomach rumbled loudly and he was sure the guard would hear, but the man was now talking to someone.

Tumi leapt behind a large barrel, just as the cook and his assistant came in. They began to move sacks of grain about. As they got closer to Tumi, he crept around the barrel and behind another, standing beside it. All at once his heel came into contact with a hard object. A foot? Tumi lost his balance and fell back onto something soft. Maybe a body? There was a slight grunt from the person underneath him.

‘What was that?’ said the cook.

‘You moved too many sacks,’ said his assistant. ‘Look out, that crate’s going to fall.’

His warning came too late. A crate toppled from the top of a pile, sending apples rolling over the floor. One came so close to Tumi’s hand, he could have touched it.

The cook swore softly. ‘Pick them up, Rolf, quick as you can,’ he told his assistant. ‘I want to get this flour to the kitchen as soon as possible. A hundred pies they want tonight.’

Throwing apples into the crate, Rolf asked, ‘Why so many?’

‘We’ve got company,’ said the cook. ‘Ravenglass men.’

The crated apples were left on the ground, and Rolf heaved the sack of flour onto his back. Still grumbling, he followed the cook out.

Very slowly, Tumi rolled sideways. He and the body were wedged tight between the barrels and the wall. In the dim light of the store room he could just make out the features of a youth with a wispy moustache. He had very pale blue eyes.

‘Who are you?’ whispered the young man.

‘Tumi!’

‘Never seen you before.’

‘Nor me you,’ whispered Tumi. ‘They caught me in the forest.’

‘A rebel?’

‘I suppose. Why are you hiding here?’ asked Tumi.

‘My friends brought me here. Safest place they could find. It’s a long story. Get off me, will you. I’ve got a hole in my chest.’

Tumi crawled backwards and stood up behind the first barrel. The young man got to his feet and rested his elbows on the other barrel. He was very tall and his arms were thick and muscular.

With his eye on the open door, the youth whispered, ‘I’m Mabon. I’m supposed to be dead. My family gave me a funeral, but I wasn’t there. They buried a bundle of rags.’

Tumi didn’t understand. ‘Why?’ he asked softly.

‘Can’t explain. Too complicated. Can you help me get out of here?’

Tumi looked at the shadowy outlines of the sacks, the barrels and crates. He stared at the narrow window high above them, and last of all at the broad back of the guard who stood before the open door. ‘How?’ he whispered.

‘Throw an apple,’ Mabon suggested. ‘The guard will be distracted. While he goes after it, you run out in the opposite direction. He’ll see you and give chase, but you’ll have the advantage. I’ll slip out while he’s running after you.’

‘He’ll catch me,’ said Tumi.

‘Maybe not.’

‘I’ll do it if you take me with you when you escape from the castle, because that’s what you’re going to do, isn’t it?’

Mabon’s pale eyes held Tumi’s gaze for a moment. ‘What’s your name, little rebel?’ he asked.

‘Tumi. Swear you’ll take me with you.’

‘Hush.’ Mabon looked at the door again. ‘We’ll take you, but I don’t know how we’ll do it.’

‘Swear you’ll try.’

Mabon took a breath. ‘I swear. Go on, now. Throw that apple. Soon as the guard moves, run out.’

Tumi stole across to the crate. He took two apples. Keeping one firmly clutched in his left hand, with his right he threw the other apple past the guard.

‘Hey!’ To Tumi’s horror, instead of following the apple, the guard strode into the store room. Tumi leapt out of the way, just as the man thrust out his spear. As he bounded for the door, Tumi saw Mabon duck behind a barrel, and then Tumi was in daylight and running for his life. He could hear the man’s heavy feet thudding behind him, and then someone flew past him, racing towards the guard.

There was a sudden yell of anger and a thump. The running footsteps ceased.

Looking back Tumi saw the guard getting to his feet. Beside him stood a boy with bright copper-coloured hair. He waved Tumi on.

‘Forgive me,’ Tumi heard the boy say. ‘I thought I saw a rat.’ He rubbed his foot. ‘No harm done.’

‘You ran into me on purpose!’

Tumi ran on while the guard continued to roar at the boy. ‘You’ll be sorry for this, you poet’s son. Times are changing.’

When Tumi rushed into the stables, Siward, the head stable boy, shouted, ‘Where’ve you been, you shirker? We’ve ten more horses to deal with.’

‘W-why?’ Tumi slumped into the straw, trying to get his breath back.

‘Ravenglass horses,’ said one of the other boys. ‘There’s a troop of soldiers come to pay a visit.’

Tumi dragged himself to the far end of the stable. He was glad that he was dressed like the others, in a coarse tunic and scratchy hose. Hopefully the guard wouldn’t recognise him. The other boys still called him seal-breeches, even though his sealskin breeches were now his pillow.

A black stallion gave Tumi a defiant look as he approached to remove the harness. ‘It’s all right, I’ll give you a good rub down.’ Tumi stroked the glossy black nose.

The stables rang with the sounds of whinnying horses, shouting boys, clanking pails and jingling harnesses. But the guard’s loud voice carried above it all: ‘Which of you boys have been stealing apples?’

‘None of us has had time to steal apples,’ Siward replied indignantly. ‘We’ve been run off our feet all morning, grooming the Ravenglass horses.’

The guard swore and turned on his heel.

The stable boys were always loyal to each other. Trust counted for more than getting into the guards’ good graces. Tumi hid his apple under the straw in the corner of the stall. He would give it to Siward later – after he’d taken a bite himself.

It was a long morning. At midday, the stable boys gathered in the courtyard for bowls of thin soup and a meagre scrap of bread. They had the same meal in the evening. Siward was pleased with his apple. ‘Well done, seal-breeches,’ he said. ‘Pity you couldn’t have got more.’

When they’d fed and watered the horses, the boys curled up in their familiar places in the straw. One lantern was left burning and a guard paced the cobblestones outside the stable door.

Across the courtyard, a feast was taking place in the great hall. Music and singing could be heard, and then voices were raised as the drinking got under way. Louder and louder came the drunken shouts; benches crashed back, tankards rolled on to the flagstones; arguments turned ugly, and now and again there was a clash of steel.

Tumi slept at last. He dreamt that he was back in the tree-house, sharing an apple with Sila.

‘Rebel, wake up!’

Tumi opened his eyes. Still half-asleep, he could just make out the face peering down at him. It was the youth from the store room.

‘See, I’ve kept my promise,’ whispered Mabon. ‘But come now, quickly.’

Tumi was suddenly wide awake. He scrambled to his feet, curling the sealskin breeches round his neck. He crept after Mabon, past the sleeping stable boys and the horses snoring in their stalls. The boy with copper-coloured hair stood just inside the door. ‘Hurry!’ he whispered.

Outside, a guard sat on the ground with his back against the wall. His head drooped on to his chest and his tankard lay on its side, a pool of beer beside it.

The copper-haired boy put a finger to his lips and then turned and began to run.

Mabon and Tumi followed him round the wall, past the well and across to a narrow door set in one of the towers. Beside the door, another guard lay sprawled on the cobblestones, an empty tankard still in his hand. He was snoring like thunder.

The copper-haired boy knocked on the door, very softly, three times. At the third knock the door was opened and they stepped into the tower.

A woman stood before them, holding a lantern. She had dark skin and was not young, but Tumi thought her very beautiful. Her smile, when she saw him, was warm and welcoming.

‘And who is this?’ Her voice was deep and tuneful.

‘Someone who helped me,’ said Mabon. ‘A rebel’s son.’

‘Tumi,’ said Tumi.

The woman repeated his name, thoughtfully. ‘An interesting name. And I am Zobayda.’

‘Princess Zobayda,’ said the copper-haired boy, causing Zobayda to laugh softly. ‘Let’s get going,’ he continued, leaping up the narrow steps.

‘Edern is always in a hurry,’ said Mabon.

Zobayda lifted the lantern and began to climb, beckoning Tumi to follow her. Mabon came last. His breathing sounded harsh and laboured as they climbed higher, and Tumi heard him stop several times. What was it he’d said about a hole in his chest?

Zobayda covered the lantern as they passed through a room where several people lay sleeping. Tumi could only see vague outlines beneath the bedcovers, and then he was climbing another set of steps. When he reached the top he found himself in a room where three elderly women sat beside a fire. It seemed as if they had been waiting for something and their smiles were wide and excited.

‘All is ready,’ said the oldest, who was, indeed, so old that her eyes and lips could hardly be seen among all the deep wrinkles of her face. She was surprisingly agile, however, and moved swiftly to the wooden shutter at the window. Opening the shutter, she revealed a knot of linen tied to an iron hook below the sill.

‘The wolf has gone,’ said the old woman, patting the knot. ‘Who’s next?’

‘Us,’ said a voice.

Tumi looked towards the third set of steps and a boy stepped down into the room. He was carrying a baby in his arms. His hare-skin cap covered the top half of his face, but his mouth and chin could be seen. His lips looked very dainty for a boy.

The baby had mysterious eyes; they were a dark, stormy grey and looked too knowing for a child.

‘Come on then, Beri,’ said the old woman.

Beri handed the baby to her and leapt on to the sill. Grabbing the knot of linen, he said, ‘Put the baby on my back. He’ll be quite safe. We’ve been practising.’

The baby was gently lowered on to Beri’s back. He put his little arms around the boy’s neck and they disappeared from view.

‘You!’ The old woman nodded at Tumi.

When he went to the window, she said, ‘Wait till she’s down.’

‘She?’ said Tumi,

The other two women giggled, and Edern said, ‘Beri likes to dress as a boy; she finds it easier to ride in breeches.’

The old woman peered over the sill. ‘She’s down now. Come on, you.’

Tumi obediently swung himself over the sill, grabbed the knot and with his feet found another knot in the long rope of cloth. As he climbed down, he could feel lengths of velvet and silk beneath his fingers. It seemed that the women had made a rope of their best clothes.

At last he was down. The girl, Beri, stepped to his side and whispered, ‘Whoever you are, you’d better come with me. The others will follow.’

‘Tumi,’ he said.

‘Tumi, then. Come on.’ She slipped into the darkness, saying, ‘It’s steep here. Watch out.’

Her warning came almost too late. The castle was built on a hill and the north wall of the Widows’ Tower stood almost directly on the edge of the steepest part of the hill. Before Tumi knew it, he was sliding, stumbling and rolling over grass, rocks and thorns. He could hear Beri above him, moving more carefully. The baby didn’t make a sound.

Tumi rolled the last few paces. He landed in a heap before a startled horse. A lantern was swung in his face and a wolf looked down at him. No, not a wolf; a boy with teeth like a wolf, and a surprised grin.

‘Who on earth are you?’

‘Tumi.’ He got to his feet. ‘Mabon brought me.’

‘Oh, well. You’ll have to ride with him, then,’ said the boy. ‘I’ve only got four horses.’

Edern stumbled into the lamp-light. Grabbing the harness of one of the horses, he said, ‘Well done, Peredur,’ and mounted quickly.

Zobayda arrived, still calm and elegant after her uncomfortable descent. Edern held out his hand and Peredur helped her up on to the saddle in front of Edern.

Mabon arrived at last, breathing heavily and clutching his chest. He coughed several times and laid his head against his horse’s neck before climbing into the saddle. ‘Come on, Tumi, you’re with me,’ he said, extending a hand.

Tumi felt himself being shoved upwards from behind. He swung himself on to the saddle before Mabon, and looked down into Peredur’s wolfish grin.

‘All ready, then?’ said Peredur, mounting his horse.

‘Where’s Beri?’ asked Zobayda.

‘She’s off,’ said Peredur. ‘Always liked to be first, didn’t she?’

‘The fish, the wolf, the eagle, the bear . . .’ Mabon began.

‘The burning sun and the running hare,’ said Edern.

Tumi was puzzled. ‘What does all that mean? Is it a secret code?’

‘They’re our emblems. We’ll tell you about them later,’ Mabon chuckled. ‘Let’s go.’

They set off behind Edern and Zobayda. Ahead of them, Peredur followed Beri.

‘How did you get the horses?’ asked Tumi, still utterly confused by all that was happening.

‘We have friends. Britons who can hide where the conquerors can’t find them. When our prince was killed over the sea, my father died with him, and so did Peredur’s. Our families have left the castle now; my friends stayed until I had recovered from my wound. But now we’re all free. Hoorah!’ Mabon patted the horse’s rump and they began to gallop.