by Jenny Nimmo
‘Is he wounded?’ asked Emma, shivering at the sight of the shining red streams.
‘He is weeping for his lost children,’ said the queen. ‘The five who left and never returned.’
Emma ruffled her pale owl feathers, hoping a cure for the king’s sadness could be found. ‘Will the king be here tomorrow?’ she asked. ‘A friend of mine needs his help.’
‘The king will be here,’ the queen replied.
‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’ Emma lifted into the air and hovered anxiously above the queen. ‘I must go now. My aunt worries.’
‘Naturally.’ The queen walked closer to the tree. ‘Go home, bird-child. Be safe.’
The king’s tears
At two o’clock on Sunday afternoon Charlie’s mother left the house. The gold limousine was waiting for her.
From his bedroom window, Charlie watched his mother get into the car. He wondered if the cracked mirror would work after all. Perhaps there was no time left to stop the count from stealing his mother away.
‘Charlie!’ said Uncle Paton from the doorway. ‘There’s a call for you.’ He held out his mobile.
Gabriel’s voice was already trickling out of the phone when Charlie put his ear to it. ‘Charlie, you wanted to know about the cloak, but you never came to the café.’
‘I was late. Tell me, Gabe, what did you see?’
‘I didn’t see a king at all, I saw a tree. The leaves were so bright it looked like it was on fire.’
‘I know.’
‘You know?’ Gabriel sounded disappointed.
‘I found a spell. I wanted to tell you all, but I was too late.’
There was a sudden bang and Charlie almost dropped the phone. ‘Sorry,’ came a muffled voice. ‘Gerbil’s got out. Must go. See you at four.’
‘Bye . . .’ Charlie handed the phone back to his uncle. ‘Gabriel saw a tree.’
‘It’s conclusive then.’ Uncle Paton slipped the mobile into his pocket.
‘Why can’t we leave now?’ said Charlie impatiently. ‘Why do we have to wait until four o’clock?’
‘Sunset,’ said Uncle Paton. ‘Besides, others are involved. Everything has to be in place. By the way, you must take this.’ He held up a small glass bottle.
‘Why?’
‘In case all else fails.’
‘Uncle Paton, I wish you wouldn’t talk in riddles.’ Charlie took the bottle and put it in his pocket.
‘Look, Charlie, this spell – the numbers aren’t right for a start. Mr Onimous is well over twenty years – it might not work as we hope.’ Uncle Paton shrugged. ‘Just keep that bottle safe. For the tears.’
Charlie spent the next hour in an agony of suspense. At last he could stand it no longer and rapped loudly on his uncle’s door, shouting, ‘Can’t we go now, Uncle P?’
Grandma Bone leaned out of the bathroom and demanded to know what all the fuss was about. Charlie had almost forgotten his grandmother’s existence and her sudden appearance gave him quite a shock.
‘S-sorry, Grandma,’ Charlie stuttered. ‘Uncle and me were just going for a walk.’
‘At this time of day? Don’t be silly,’ said Grandma Bone.
Uncle Paton opened his door and said, ‘He’s not being silly. We are going to the park.’
‘More fool you,’ said his sister. ‘You’re bound to have an accident. By the way,’ she went on, ‘I’ve arranged for Maisie to be transferred.’
‘Transferred!’ cried Charlie. ‘Where to?’
‘I can’t have her cluttering up the bathroom any longer,’ was all Grandma Bone would say.
‘Grizelda!’ roared Paton. ‘How dare you speak of Maisie in that way. She’s a very precious person. What have you arranged? Tell me immediately.’
‘My! We are on our high horse today,’ sneered Grandma Bone. ‘If you must know, that nice Mr Weedon has agreed to come here tomorrow to pick Maisie up. He’ll bring a body bag to prevent drips on the carpet, and then he’ll whisk Maisie off to,’ she paused dramatically, ‘somewhere else.’
‘He will do no such thing,’ Paton declared. ‘If Weedon so much as touches our Maisie, I’ll throw him downstairs.’
‘A forlorn hope,’ said Grandma Bone. ‘He’s got muscles like iron.’ She gave a mocking smile and sailed into her room.
Paton stood speechless and seething, his arms stiff at his sides and his fists working overtime.
‘Come on, Uncle.’ Charlie plucked at his uncle’s sleeve. ‘Let’s go.’
Before they left the house, Charlie took the white moth to the bathroom and let it fly wherever it wanted. It came to rest on Maisie’s frozen curls.
‘Keep her safe,’ Charlie told the moth.
As they walked through the deserted Sunday city, Charlie felt as though his whole world was tumbling down about his ears. If the spell came to nothing, then where would he be?
The mood at the Pets’ Café lifted his spirits considerably. Every table was occupied and the café was full of eager expectant chatter. The Onimouses were having a hard time getting everyone served; they whizzed along behind the counter, refilling bowls, serving pets who needed special diets, and pouring tea.
The large Gunn family had taken over a whole table. They had even brought musical instruments, Charlie observed. Fidelio beckoned him over and said, ‘We thought we’d entertain everyone while you lot are doing whatever you’ve got to do – you know.’
‘Brilliant idea!’ said Charlie, looking round the café. ‘I can’t see any Looms.’
‘I heard they were having trouble with their dogs,’ said Fidelio. He turned to his youngest sister, Mimi, who’d begun to tune her violin. ‘Not yet, Mimi! Wish Charlie good luck!’
When they heard this, every member of the Gunn family sang, ‘Good luck, Charlie Bone!’
Several customers turned to look in Charlie’s direction. He blushed, retreated from the Gunns’ overcrowded table and sat down between Benjamin and Mrs Brown.
‘Even Lysander’s dad has come,’ Benjamin told Charlie. ‘Look, Homer’s sitting on his head.’
Charlie was impressed, especially when the judge gave Uncle Paton a friendly nod as he passed. If other customers were surprised by the high turnout they didn’t show it, at least not until Tancred and his parents arrived. As soon as Mr Torsson set foot in the café, an icy blast sent every pet scurrying for cover.
‘Sorry!’ boomed Mr Torsson. ‘Nothing personal. Can’t help it.’ He sat beside the judge, whom he knew quite well, while his wife squeezed in beside Mrs Sage. Tancred shared a chair with Lysander.
Billy had joined the Silks’ table and Rembrandt, sitting in the centre, was enjoying the attention of several female gerbils.
Mrs Vertigo had almost overdone the dowdiness. In a grey wig, tatty brown mac, and with a pale scrubbed face, she would have been unrecognisable if Olivia hadn’t been with her. Miss Ingledew gave a little start of surprise when she realised who was sitting next to her.
‘I don’t know what you told everyone,’ Miss Ingledew whispered to Paton, as he took the chair on her other side, ‘but it’s certainly done the trick.’
Paton winked and briefly squeezed her hand.
Charlie searched the room for Naren. There was no sign of her. He darted a desperate look at his uncle and shook his head.
‘What’s wrong?’ Mrs Vertigo asked in an elderly treble.
‘I think Charlie is trying to tell me that someone we hoped might have come, hasn’t,’ said Paton. ‘It doesn’t surprise me, however.’ He was looking at the door when he said this and an expression of relief and surprise crossed his face when Bartholomew Bloor walked in. He was followed by Naren and her mother.
Bartholomew saw Paton at once. You could hardly miss a man in dark glasses who was a head taller than everyone else. The explorer walked straight over to Paton and said gruffly, ‘Paton, I would like to introduce my wife, Meng, and my daughter, Naren.’
Paton stood up and everyone shook hands.
‘I would also like
to apologise,’ Bartholomew went on, a little awkwardly. ‘Charlie made me take a good look at myself and I want you to know that I am not like the rest of my family.’
‘Of course you are not,’ said Paton, grasping Bartholomew’s hand in both of his.
Bartholomew lowered his voice and said, ‘Now then, what are we supposed to do while the children are – otherwise engaged?’
‘Nothing, Bart,’ said Paton. ‘Just be alert. I think we should start quite soon.’ He looked at his watch and then spoke to Naren. ‘My dear, would you go over to Charlie and tell him, very quietly, that it is time? Then go with him, up to the counter. He’ll know what to do next.’
‘Yes, Mr Yewbeam.’ With an eager smile, Naren made her way over to Charlie and whispered, ‘It’s time.’
Charlie stood up and Benjamin said, ‘Good luck, Charlie!’
As Charlie and Naren walked towards the counter, Charlie tapped Tancred and Lysander on the shoulder. The two boys gave no sign that they had felt anything, but a minute after Charlie and Naren had disappeared round the counter, they left their table and followed, Tancred poking Billy and Gabriel in the back as he walked behind them.
The Onimouses’ kitchen gradually filled with endowed children. Not a word was said. Every one of them was aware that this was, perhaps, the most important day of their lives.
Mrs Onimous had given Una a cup of soothing camomile tea and the little girl was much calmer than usual, though her dark eyes sparkled with anticipation.
Charlie noticed several of the others glancing curiously at Naren and he quickly introduced her as a friend who’d been in hiding. ‘She has a pretty amazing talent too,’ he added.
When all nine children were assembled, Mr Onimous cleared his throat and made a small speech. ‘Ahem! We all know why we are here, but before we go any further, I’d just like to say that I am now going to show you a place that has remained secret for many centuries. It is a tunnel, known only to my family, with the exception of Charlie and Billy. It leads into the Red Castle. I would ask you, please, to keep it a secret. Have I your words on this?’
Everyone earnestly murmured, ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Thank you. I shall lead the way, with Una. I suggest the rest of you walk in single file.’ Mr Onimous picked up a lantern from the table and made for a small door at the other end of the kitchen.
‘Excuse me,’ called Tancred. ‘But does anyone know where we’re going once we’re in the ruin?’
‘Yes,’ Emma said calmly. ‘There are two old walls, with room for maybe two people between them. They go very straight for about half a mile, and then they go round and round, like a snail shell; the king is in a glade at the very end.’
At the mention of the king, everyone moved solemnly into line. Mr Onimous opened the door and Charlie, following right behind, found himself in the familiar storeroom. When they reached the cavern where a sack of potatoes hid the secret door, Mr Onimous waited until all the children had crowded into the small, musty room.
‘We are about to enter the tunnel,’ Mr Onimous said, almost in a whisper. ‘Be prepared. It is very dark, it is damp, it is a little airless. It goes a very long way. Lysander, my man, I suggest you bring up the rear, with Tancred. You others can go anywhere in the middle. Lysander will close the door when you are all through. Are we ready?’
Everyone nodded. A few said, ‘Yes, sir.’
Mr Onimous hauled a large sack away from the wall, revealing a very low and ancient door. The little man reached inside his woolly jacket and brought out a small key on a gold chain. Fitting the key to the lock, he turned it once and the door swung inwards with a loud creak. It was no higher than Mr Onimous and the taller boys had to bend their heads to get through it.
Holding the lantern as high as he could, Mr Onimous clutched Una’s hand and led the way forward. Emma walked behind them, ready to give instructions once they were in the ruin. Naren followed Emma, and Billy slipped in behind Naren. Then came Charlie, followed by Olivia, Gabriel and Tancred. Lysander brought up the rear.
Everything Mr Onimous had said about the tunnel proved to be true; but it was darker, damper and stuffier than anyone had expected. Gabriel began to cough. Charlie took deep breaths and steadied himself against the damp wall. Behind him, Olivia gave a little cry as she tripped on a stone, bumped into Charlie and tumbled to the ground.
‘I can’t see a thing,’ Olivia moaned.
‘You just couldn’t resist wearing those pointy boots, could you?’ said Charlie, hauling her to her feet.
The lantern light was very distant now, and those at the back began to stumble into each other. Charlie was about to change places with Olivia when Billy turned round and handed him a lighted candle.
‘Pass it down,’ Billy whispered. ‘I’ve got five.’
Charlie gave the candle to Olivia, whispering, ‘Pass it on.’
When all five candles were held aloft it was as though the tunnel were filled with moonlight. But more than brightness, the candles brought comfort to the anxious children; the air seemed fresher, their feet lighter and even though they had to go almost another mile, the time passed very quickly.
They emerged, at last, into a wood of thin birch trees. Straight ahead were the two walls.
‘No running,’ Mr Onimous commanded. ‘Let’s be careful now.’
The path between the walls began in the wood, but in a few paces they were out of the trees and walking beneath a blue sky streaked with evening clouds.
‘Sunset,’ Charlie said to himself.
Everyone had fallen silent again. The only sound came from the ground as they marched over the ancient stone pathway. When they began to round the twisting corners of the snail shell, Charlie’s heart beat so wildly he had to press his hand over it. Beside him, Emma said, ‘Soon.’
And then they were there.
The queen was waiting for them beside the tree. She whinnied softly and trotted towards them, tossing her head in greeting. And then she walked away and left them with the king.
They stood before the towering, fiery tree with wide eyes and upturned faces, but words failed them. They saw the dark streams coursing down the trunk and, instinctively, they moved closer.
Charlie had memorised the spell, word for word. He took Billy’s hand, then Naren’s and began to murmur the lines. The others linked hands but they all had to bend under the sweeping branches before they could make an unbroken ring.
‘Three times,’ Charlie whispered. ‘Around the king, around, around until his tears are clear again.’
They circled the tree, their faces very grave now, each one of them gazing at the blood-red tears.
Once, twice, three times. Around the tree, around and around. When they had completed three circles, Charlie tugged Billy’s hand and moved faster.
‘We’ve done it three times,’ said Billy.
‘Keep going,’ said Charlie desperately.
The king’s tears were as dark as ever, but Charlie wouldn’t give up. They spun round the tree until they began to feel dizzy. And then, with brimming eyes, Mr Onimous broke the ring, crying, ‘It’s no good, kids. It’s me. I’m the trouble. How could anyone believe I was less than twenty years? Whoever made that spell meant every word to be obeyed.’
The empty space between Olivia and Emma held everyone’s gaze, and yet no one else could bring themselves to break the link. They stood beneath the tree while Mr Onimous sobbed into his hands and the sky gradually filled with dark clouds. It grew so shadowy under the spreading branches they could barely see each other’s faces. But something held them there.
The tall grass at the edge of the glade rustled and shivered, although there was no wind. Something crawled out of the grass and stood up.
‘The beast,’ said Mr Onimous, his voice shaking with dread.
‘Asa,’ said Charlie under his breath.
It came towards the circle, a shadowy, humped and hideous creature. No one moved. The beast walked into the empty place between the two girls,
and Emma, with her heart in her mouth, put her hand on the beast’s head. Olivia, staring at Emma, speechlessly began to do the same.
The others watched in astonishment as the beast allowed the girls to curl their fingers into its long, coarse hair. The circle was complete again.
Without a word, the ring of children began to move, and the beast moved with them. Around the king, around and around.
Charlie’s eyes were fixed on the scarred trunk. The blood-red tears ran faster; they splashed on to the damp earth, and then trickled away in thin, glittering strands.
The children began a second round. The grey bark was soaked in dark streams and a pool began to form at the base of the tree.
Around the king, around and around.
They began their third walk. And this time Charlie tore his gaze away from the dreadful tears. They wouldn’t stop. They would flow on forever, Charlie thought, until the ring of children stood knee-deep in a crimson pond.
The tears were now falling so fast they made the air hum and the branches sigh. The breeze became a mighty wind, streaming into the children’s faces, tugging their hair and blowing through their winter clothes. A cold, clean, rapturous wind that sounded like ancient music.
‘Look, Charlie! Look!’ cried Billy.
Charlie was too afraid to look. A cold droplet splashed on to his face.
‘Look! Look! Look!’ Other voices joined Billy’s.
Charlie dragged his gaze back to the tree. Rain poured through the branches and ran down the grey trunk. The deep scars were now an icy white, the tears that washed them pure, clear water.
The children’s hands fell to their sides. They looked up through the branches and the wind covered their faces in red and gold leaves. The washed bark shone a pearly grey as the wind carried the king’s autumn robe away. Leaves sailed through the air like dancing flames, over the castle walls, over the river, over the houses – red and gold clouds that covered the city: roofs and gardens, alleys and roads, in the depth of winter a carpet of autumn gold.