Charlie Bone And The Red Knight (Children Of The Red King)

by Jenny Nimmo

  "And it's with this globe that your family has been able to control the oceans?" Manfred's tone was tinged with doubt.

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  "For eight hundred years," Lord Grimwald replied. "It was encased in glass in the nineteenth century, to protect it from pollution, you understand."

  Manfred nodded. "Naturally."

  "Did you get anything out of the boy?" Lord Grimwald asked.

  "Oh, a great deal," Manfred replied with a smile. "The boat was on his mind, and it has a name, Greywing. Eustacia saw it all, the sea, the night sky, and constellations upside down."

  "Upside down?" The Lord of the Oceans rubbed his chin. "So they are in the southern hemisphere." He put his finger against the glass, and the waves beneath it sparkled with silver foam. "There are whales aplenty on the coasts of Australia. I'll wager our quarry is in this vicinity." He slid his finger up the eastern coast of Australia, and a line of white foam followed the course he took

  Manfred watched the long, fishlike finger with a slight frown of distaste. "You've caused a few shipwrecks there, I imagine," he said.

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  "Mustn't let it run away with me." Lord Grimwald turned to Manfred. "Well, what else did this clairvoyant have to tell you?"

  "The Red Knight's identity. We believe he must be my grandfather, Bartholomew Bloor, black sheep of the family."

  "Why do you believe this?" Lord Grimwald asked curtly.

  "Because he turned his back on us, went abroad. Became an explorer, wouldn't have anything to do with the family."

  Lord Grimwald sighed impatiently. "No. Why do you believe the Red Knight is this Bartholomew person?"

  "Oh, he was in Charlie's mind."

  "Proves nothing. The boy doesn't know. He's guessing."

  "Well, it's a start," said Manfred indignantly. "Eustacia's in top form lately. I bet she could tell me what was in your mind."

  "I doubt it," muttered Lord Grimwald.

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  "What about this unknown endowed child that's on the loose?"

  Manfred grimaced. "Charlie got away before we could ask. His friend's dog came barking through the mailbox. It broke our concentration."

  "Teh!" Lord Grimwald thrust his hands into his pockets. "Not that I'm bothered, but Kapaldi wants to know. He's always in such a state, it's unsettling."

  "We did find out about one of the other kids," Manfred said, a touch smugly. "One of the girls, Olivia Vertigo. Turns out she's an illusionist, quite a good one. We had no idea. So it's a bit of a coup."

  "Indeed," agreed Lord Grimwald. "Get her under control and she could be useful."

  One of the great ballroom doors was suddenly pushed open and Mrs. Tilpin shuffled in, dragging Joshua behind her.

  "Weedon said you wanted us," she grumbled. "I was taking a nap. Can't get a wink of sleep at night. Place is haunted."

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  "What's that?" cried Joshua, pointing at the Sea Globe.

  Lord Grimwald stared at the puny boy disdainfully. Joshua's thin hair was covered in bits of paper, crumbs and pencil shavings clung to his sweater, and his shoes were coated with dead leaves and mud.

  "I can see that you're magnetic," Lord Grimwald observed.

  "But what is THAT?" Joshua demanded, his eyes never leaving the Sea Globe.

  Lord Grimwald wrinkled his nose. "I suppose you'll do," he murmured.

  "If you want him to do something for you, you'd better be a bit nicer," said Mrs. Tilpin, hobbling toward the globe. "Tell him what it is."

  "That is a Sea Globe." Lord Grimwald tossed the words out as though the Tilpins hardly deserved an answer.

  "WOW!" Joshua ran to the globe, his arms outstretched.

  "DON'T TOUCH!" shouted the globe's owner.

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  Joshua halted within inches of the glass. "It's all wrong," he declared, staring up at the gigantic sphere. "It's impossible. The waves are going up. How does the water do that? And how can the earth stand on water?" He pointed at the base of the globe. "Why doesn't it all fall down?"

  "Because it doesn't," Lord Grimwald said crisply.

  Joshua fell silent. He gazed up at the water tumbling far above him in the Arctic Ocean. His pale face was bathed in the shifting blue-green light of the great sphere, and his paper-covered hair was dappled with rainbow colors from the crystals in the chandelier. He looked at his mother and decided she was almost beautiful in sea light, and it certainly improved Manfred's appearance.

  At last Joshua turned his head and stared up at Lord Grimwald. "Who are you?" he asked.

  The man beside him looked down as from a great height, and Joshua noted the crinkled, almost green hair, the chilly arctic eyes, and the grayish glimmering skin. "You look like a fish," he said.

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  His mother dug him in the ribs. "Behave yourself, Josh," she said. "This man controls the sea. He's like Dagbert, only more clever." She glanced at the Lord of the Oceans. "He wants you to do something for him."

  "What?" Joshua stared at the stern features.

  Lord Grimwald dug his hands into his pockets. "You are acquainted with Dagbert Endless?"

  "He's a year above me, but I know him," said Joshua. "He's almost my best friend."

  "Ah. Is he? Well, Joshua, Dagbert is my son, and you may not believe this, but he has stolen something from me."

  "I believe you. Dagbert and me often steal things." Joshua gave the man a crooked smile. "What's he stolen from you?"

  "Seven golden charms, Joshua: a fish, five crabs, and a sea urchin."

  Joshua wrinkled his brow. "But they're his charms, Mr. Grimwald --"

  "Lord Grimwald," Manfred hastily corrected him.

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  "Lord Grimwald," said Joshua. "Dagbert said his mother made the charms for him, so he'd be protected."

  "From me," said the Lord of the Oceans. "I know his story. All lies, Joshua."

  Joshua kicked the floor with the toe of his boot, and Manfred scowled at the dried mud falling onto the polished floorboards.

  Lord Grimwald sighed heavily and paced around the globe, saying, "I suppose you want a reward for your services, Joshua?"

  Joshua looked at his mother, who said, "Of course he does."

  "Very well." Lord Grimwald, having circled the globe, stopped beside Mrs. Tilpin and sighed again. "Your accommodation here is not much, I imagine." Manfred's scowl deepened. "Damp probably," Lord Grimwald continued. "I can see you've got a touch of arthritis. I can offer you a small castle in the north. A servant. Heated rooms and ..."

  Mrs. Tilpin began to sway with pleasure. She had

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  to steady herself on Manfred's arm, which he didn't much like. "And?" she prompted.

  Lord Grimwald turned to Joshua. "What is your favorite food, Joshua?"

  The boy gave a broad grin and, without hesitation, said, "Chocolate, sausages, Battenberg cake, lemon sherbet, strawberry jelly, chips, and beans."

  "Fish?" asked the Lord of the Oceans.

  "I hate fish," said Joshua.

  Lord Grimwald's cheeks turned a greenish pink, and for a second, a look of hatred passed across his face, but pulling himself together, he waved a hand and said, "You'll get all those things, but --"

  "Yippee!" Joshua gave a little jump for joy.

  "But only when you've done what I ask."

  "Spit it out," said Mrs. Tilpin, momentarily forgetting to be grateful. "I'm tired." She shuffled over to one of the gold-painted ballroom chairs and sank down on it.

  Lord Grimwald became very businesslike. "I know that Dagbert will hide the charms. You will find them,

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  Joshua. Wherever they are. You are magnetic. The charms will be drawn to you; they will cling to you, even if you are twelve feet away from them."

  "I've never done gold before," said Joshua doubtfully.

  "Believe me, you will attract gold if you think about it. If you truly want it. I know a little about magnetism, and the mind plays a great part in it. Why are you covered in paper,
mud, and crumbs, for instance? Do you want to look a mess? Think them away" -- Lord Grimwald flipped a hand at the mess on Joshua's sweater -- "and you'll feel much better."

  Joshua frowned at the crumbs, but nothing happened.

  "I think we are done here," said the Lord of the Oceans. "You may go now. Bring me the charms as soon as you can."

  "Yes, sir." Joshua turned to his mother, who shuffled forward and grabbed his hand.

  "I'll come and see you later, Titania," said Manfred.

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  "I want your opinion on a new development. Olivia Vertigo is endowed."

  This news brought a twisted smile from Mrs. Tilpin. "Indeed?" she murmured. "I can have some fun at last, a little shape-shifting." Her blackberry eyes glittered with excitement.

  As the Tilpin's walked out, a few bits of paper floated off Joshua's head, and squeezing his arm tightly, his mother whispered, "You're going to make our fortune, Josh."

  Manfred waited until the Tilpins had gone before asking, "When will you find Lyell Bone's boat, then? I'd like to watch the drowning."

  "Patience," said Lord Grimwald. "I want those charms. If I don't get them, I might not survive long enough to help you."

  Manfred found it difficult to believe that the powerful man standing beside him could be overcome by a twelve-year-old boy. But a curse was a curse, he told himself, and there was no getting around it. "I haven't told Great-grandfather the latest news," he said,

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  striding to the door. "I'd better go up to his attic right now. He always likes to be the first to know things."

  Lord Grimwald followed Manfred into the hallway. "Must be dinnertime," he said. "Can your cook make fish cakes?"

  "No idea." Manfred closed the ballroom doors, slid a bolt across, and locked them. "Don't want anyone tampering with your globe," he said.

  The two men made their way down the gloomy hall, opened the low door at the end, and stepped into the main hall. As soon as the door had been closed, a small person emerged from the shadows at the other end of the passage. Cook had been listening through a crack in the ballroom door and had heard almost every word of the conversations that had taken place. Certainly enough to know that she must tell someone about the Sea Globe. She had even caught a glimpse of the awful thing.

  Cook and Lord Grimwald had a history. Not once, but twice, he had asked her to marry him. She had

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  refused both times, and for this he had swept away her house and drowned her family. Tears stung her eyes when she thought of the dreadful day she had returned to her island home to find nothing but a few planks of wood bobbing beside a rock.

  "He won't get away with it again," she muttered as she tiptoed hastily down the passage. "Better the boy than the man. Whatever Dagbert has done, it can't be worse than what that slimeball has in mind."

  Cook opened the door into the corridor. Looking quickly about her, she ran across the hall and down the corridor of portraits to the blue cafeteria. Once there, she slipped into the kitchen and over to a broom closet. Her assistants were all off duty for the weekend, so she was able to use the access to her secret apartment without fear of being observed.

  At the back of the broom closet and covered by aprons and towels, a small door opened onto a softly lit corridor. Cook hurried along, muttering under her breath, "Mustn't let him. Must stop him," until she came to a flight of steps leading down to another cupboard.

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  This one opened into a cozy room where bright coals flickered in an old black stove. The walls were hung with paintings, and an ancient dresser was filled with gold-patterned china. There was a comfy sofa and an old armchair beside the stove. In the armchair sat a large man with a lot of white hair and a lined but handsome face.

  Dr. Saltweather, Head of Music, was Cook's friend and ally. It was only recently that she had begun to trust him enough to let him into her secret room. And how he loved it. What a contrast it was to the cold, gloomy room he had been allotted in the academy.

  When he saw Cook's anxious face, Dr. Saltweather flung down his newspaper and exclaimed, "What is it, Treasure?" This was not an endearment, although the doctor was very fond of Cook. Treasure was actually her name.

  "Oh, Arthur. It's dreadful!" cried Cook, and she related everything she had heard -- and caught a glimpse of. "I've got to warn them," she said, putting

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  on her tweed coat and woolly hat. "Charlie and his uncle have got to know. We've got to stop that wicked, murdering, drowning monster."

  "Let me go," said Dr. Saltweather, springing up.

  "No, no. You're too... er... distinctive." She blushed slightly. "You'd be noticed. I'll go to the bookstore rather than risk being seen by the Bone grandmother. Mr. Yewbeam is bound to be with Miss Ingledew today."

  "If you're sure. But do take care." Dr. Saltweather anxiously watched Cook dart about, putting things into her bag. And then, with a little wave, she was off again.

  Dr. Saltweather sank back into the armchair and patted the old dog at his feet. "I don't like it, Blessed," he said. "I don't like it one bit."

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  9. THE FALSE GODMOTHER

  Cook remembered that she was on duty tonight. She would be expected to produce a meal for the Bloors and their unwholesome guests. Fish cakes had been mentioned.

  "Nothing for it; Mrs. Weedon will have to take over," Cook said to herself as she ran through the blue cafeteria. "Better warn her."

  Cook hurried down to the green cafeteria, where Mrs. Weedon could usually be found dozing beside the kitchen range or reading thrillers. But today she was nowhere to be seen. Cook found her, at last, in the yard outside the kitchen, feeding an evil-looking dog.

  "Bertha, what on earth are you doing?" cried Cook as the animal bared its teeth and lunged at her.

  "Poor thing, it's hungry," said Mrs. Weedon. "It's a stray. I'm very fond of it. And so much food goes to waste in this place."

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  Cook had given up wondering why Bertha Weedon always looked so sour. She decided that the poor woman probably couldn't help it. After all, being married to Mr. Weedon could be no picnic.

  "Why are you all dressed up? You're on duty," said Mrs. Weedon, looking at Cook's woolly hat.

  "I'm hardly dressed up," said Cook, "but as you rightly point out, I am supposed to be on duty, except I'm going out, so you'll have to do dinner tonight."

  Mrs. Weedon put her hands on her wide hips and stamped her foot. "Why should I? Where are you going?"

  "I'm visiting a sick friend. She's very ill. No one else to look after her. So toodle-loo!" Cook stepped nervously around the dog, which now had its nose in a bowl of cold stew, and ran up the flight of stone steps that led to the road. Ignoring Mrs. Weedon's indignant shouts, she hurried down to High Street and then on into the old part of the city. She was quite out of breath by the time she reached Cathedral Close,

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  and thinking of a nice cup of tea, but as she approached the bookstore, something happened that put the cup of tea completely out of her mind.

  Two figures stepped out of the bookstore, slamming the door behind them so that the bell rang frantically and the glass pane at the top of the door rattled alarmingly. The strangers did not look at all like Miss Ingledew's usual customers. One wore a white undershirt and camouflage trousers, and the other was dressed in a hooded black tracksuit. They were both laughing in a rather unpleasant way.

  Cook shrank against the wall as the men jogged past her, chatting in low voices. She couldn't hear what they were saying and hoped they wouldn't notice her, but unfortunately, the undershirt man caught sight of her bright red hat. "What're you looking at, Grandma?" he shouted in a mocking voice.

  Cook was tempted to reply that she was too young to be a grandmother and who was he to cast aspersions when he was wearing a silly undershirt

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  on a freezing March night. But she thought better of it and kept her mouth shut.

  The t
wo men ran on, laughing, and eventually turned onto Piminy Street. "I might have known it," muttered Cook as she hurried toward the bookstore. She thought of her friend, Mrs. Kettle, the only trustworthy person in Piminy Street, all alone now on a street of thugs and hooligans and probably worse.

  When Cook reached the bookstore she found that the closed sign had been removed and, looking through the window, was horrified to behold a scene of utter devastation. Piles of precious books lay strewn across the floor. Two shelves had collapsed, the ladder that was used to reach the highest shelves was broken, and the cash register had been turned on its side. Miss Ingledew stood leaning against the counter, her hands covering her face, while her niece, Emma, knelt on the floor and smoothed the pages of a large, leather-bound book.

  Cook rang the bell and then knocked frantically. "Julia!" she called. "Julia, let me in."

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  Miss Ingledew lowered her hands, revealing a tearstained face, and wearily climbed the steps to the door, unlocking it with trembling fingers.

  "My dear!" cried Cook, entering the store. "Whatever has been happening here?"

  "I hardly know where to start," said Miss Ingledew. She locked and bolted the door, then followed Cook down into the shop.

  At that moment, Olivia Vertigo appeared through the curtains behind the counter. She was carrying a tray containing three large mugs and a plate of cookies. "Hello, Cook," she said cheerfully. "Do you want some cocoa? It won't take a sec."

  "That would be nice, dear," said Cook, gazing around the shop, her horror growing every second.

  Olivia put the tray on the counter and retreated behind the curtain, saying, "Okeydoke."