The Snowy Tower

by Belinda Murrell

  ‘I cannot stay here,’ argued Roana. ‘As you said, not even Tira is safe, and it is my brother we seek. I must go to rescue him – he will be frightened if more strangers try to take him away.’

  Fox sat down again, nodding reluctantly.

  ‘Perhaps the rebels in the forest could be warned to look out for the children,’ Fox suggested.

  ‘The less people who know about this journey, the better,’ Master Drummond said. ‘If no-one else knows about it, then it is harder for the children to be betrayed.’

  Ethan felt a heavy weight in the pit of his stomach. It seemed this journey would be even more perilous than their previous adventures.

  ‘So it does seem that the best plan is for you four to travel by yourselves to the north,’ decided Fox. ‘But we will do all we can to make it safer for you.’

  So everyone set to work, packing saddle bags, making piles of blankets, rugs, candles and foodstuffs. Fox rustled up bulky, cable-stitch woollen fishermen’s jumpers, with knitted caps, scarves and thick socks from his fishing contacts down at Ainsley. Cookie came from the palace, bringing warm woollen gloves that had been hurriedly knitted by her and Marnie.

  Moonbeam, Nutmeg, Toffee and Caramel were disguised as humble packhorses, with mud rubbed into their glossy coats, twigs knotted in their manes and tails, and frayed rope halters replacing their fine leather tack. They were laden with barrels of ale and cider. Moonbeam snickered in dismay, tossing her proud head and pawing the ground.

  It was impossible to hide the beautiful formation of their well-bred heads, and the sleek musculature of their hunting heritage. Master Drummond just hoped that the bored Sedah guards would not see past the mud and prickles and shabby tack.

  ‘People generally see what they expect to see,’ Master Drummond explained as he examined the effect. ‘They probably won’t look twice at the horses.’

  The saddles, bridles, food, weapons, clothes and saddle packs were hidden in the farmer’s cart in rough hessian sacks and topped with cabbages.

  ‘Now, much against my better judgement, we have agreed that you will make the journey north by yourselves, but we may need to contact you,’ Master Drummond said. ‘If I send someone to meet you I will give them a code phrase so that you know they are a friend. The code phrase will be, “Looks like that horse is foundering”. Your response should be, “No, she just had a stone caught in her hoof”. Then they will know you are the right children as well.’

  ‘Looks like that horse is foundering. No, she just had a stone caught in her hoof,’ repeated Lily, memorising the phrases.

  Finally all was ready. The four children stood in the courtyard, their clothes ragged, and daubs of dirt on their faces. Master Drummond had his huge gentle draughthorse, Judy, harnessed in the shafts of the laden farm cart. Charcoal was safely stowed in a comfortable wicker fishing creel, strapped onto Nutmeg’s saddle.

  Cookie had brought another large sack of provisions from the palace, which she had baked before dawn. She embraced each child in turn, her face crinkled with worry. She hugged Roana long and hard.

  ‘Cookie darling, please look after my mother,’ begged Roana, ‘and Marnie, and poor Willem down in the dungeons.’ Cookie turned away sharply. She could not bear to tell Roana the news that was now flickering through the palace – the news that Governor Lazlac was forcing Queen Ashana to marry him.

  Fox strolled into the courtyard leading a small coal-black pony, with Mia riding proudly on the pony’s withers, clinging to a short tuft of mane. The pony had been closely shaved from nose to hoof, with a neatly plaited short tail. Her black eyes were quick and intelligent, and her velvet nose snuffled the air in curiosity.

  ‘This is Mischief,’ announced Fox, a note of love and pride in his voice. The children remembered that Mischief was one of Fox’s highly trained smugglers’ ponies, the one he had ridden the night they returned to Tiregian. After Sniffer had ambushed them, Mischief had led the string of ponies away across the moors and back to their stables, without a rider. ‘I thought you might need another clever horse to help carry your provisions on the voyage north, and when you find Prince Caspar, to carry him home. I’ll be moving operations to the east for a couple of months so I won’t be needing her.’

  Roana ran across to Fox and gave him a hug. ‘Thank you, Fox. Thank you for everything,’ she whispered.

  ‘It’s nothing but my loyal duty,’ grinned Fox. Roana knew that Fox’s loyalties in the past had never been to Tiregian and the royal family. His loyalties always lay with Mia, the Owl, himself and his friends, plus of course anyone who could pay him enough gold. It was a sign of his respect and affection for the children that he now counted them as worthy of his loyalty. Mia leapt up onto Roana’s head and patted her comfortingly on her cropped blonde hair, crooning softly.

  ‘That is the first time Mia has climbed up on me,’ Roana laughed in delight. Mia tweaked Roana’s ear then leapt back to her familiar perch on Fox’s broad shoulder. Fox handed Roana a small pouch, which jingled as she took it in her hand.

  ‘The twenty gold crescents you paid me for taking you on the Owl,’ he explained. ‘I decided that I was more than amply rewarded by the ingots you found me, and I thought you might need the money on your journey.’

  ‘Thank you, Fox,’ Roana said gravely, realising that Fox was giving her much more than a bag of gold.

  Fox turned to each of the children in turn, wishing them good fortune and a speedy voyage. When he came to Saxon, he pulled a brown leather pouch from his pocket.

  ‘Saxon, this is for you.’ Fox said quietly. ‘I know you remember how to use it, and I pray that it may help you find your way safe home again.’ Reverently Saxon opened the pouch and slipped out a silver case, about the size of his palm, which was engraved with the form of a wide-eyed owl. The case clicked open to reveal a face, decorated with several letters and a needle that flickered and shimmered. Saxon cautiously turned the case so the needle pointed to the ornate N at the top.

  ‘Your compass,’ breathed Saxon. ‘It’s beautiful, Fox, I will treasure it.’

  Then all the goodbyes were said and the scruffy convoy moved away, Fox and Cookie and Mia waving madly from the courtyard. Judy the draughthorse clopped slowly in the lead, Master Drummond at the reins, with Mischief tied to the back of the cart. Next came Ethan and Roana leading the barrel-laden horses, with Saxon, Lily and Aisha bringing up the rear.

  Down in the palace dungeons, Willem sat with his head in his hands. He felt as though he was going mad. He had no idea where his children were. He had not seen his wife, or Queen Ashana, for days. He was now denied the brief comfort of the half hour’s walk in the herb garden. There were no more special rations from Cookie now that the queen was gone. Willem could imagine his whole life stretched out before him – an endless succession of long, brain-numbingly boring days and black nights. He was going mad.

  Willem looked over at the others. He saw one of the gentlemen-in-waiting leaning in the corner. Like all of them, he was dressed in filthy rags. The man had a completely blank face. His mouth hung open a little, the lips slack, the eyes unblinking and lifeless.

  Willem was shocked. ‘Charles?’ he called. There was no response. ‘Charles!’ Willem jumped up and shook the man, who gradually came back to consciousness.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ Charles mumbled. ‘Just leave me alone.’

  That’s probably what I looked like just now, Willem thought. I am turning into a drooling vegetable. If we are ever rescued or manage to get out of here, I’ll be no use to anyone. If someone put a bow in my hands now I probably wouldn’t have the strength to draw it, let alone shoot it. I have to do something to keep us all going down here.

  Willem stood up and started to pace up and down, up and down, his mind racing.

  We need to exercise and make our bodies strong again, Willem thought. I wonder if there is some way of communicating with the prisoners in the other cells? What if I could somehow chip a tiny hole through the mortar to the nex
t cell? Then I could talk to the prisoners there and encourage them to do the same to the next cell and the next cell, and perhaps all the prisoners could be encouraged to walk and exercise. At least then we would have some hope.

  Willem smiled to himself, a sense of purpose and direction surging through his tired body. The Sun Lord knows that while there is life and blood pumping through my veins, then there is always hope.

  Governor Lazlac sat at his desk, wading through a mountain of paperwork. For the second time in ten minutes, he caught himself dreaming about his impending nuptials. Perhaps this afternoon he would drop in to the gardener’s cottage to see how the dress was progressing.

  A loud knock sounded on the door. A young Sedah soldier saluted nervously, handing over a thick parchment sealed with black and red wax. ‘Urgent despatch for you, sir, just in from Sedah.’

  ‘Ah, good,’ purred the governor. The soldier saluted smartly and left. Governor Lazlac opened the parchment, slicing the wax seal with his dagger.

  The note read:

  ‘2 14 10 13 1 10 16 24 23 10 3 3 10 12 20 14 13 10 23 13 2 4 23 20. 15 24 4 1 12 17 18 21 13 1 14 23 10 23 13 13 24 16 14 2 12 10 25 14 13. 22 24 24 23 25 14 10 1 21 10 23 13 2 3 10 1 13 18 10 22 24 23 13 2 21 24 2 3 6 18 3 17 24 4 3 3 1 10 12 14 …’

  Quickly Governor Lazlac decoded the message, substituting letters for the numbers written there, with R being 1, S being 2, back to A being 10 and so on. He read the letter twice, his brain refusing to accept the message that was written there.

  ‘Sea Dragon attacked and sunk … four children and dog escaped … Moon Pearl and Star Diamonds lost without trace,’ Governor Lazlac muttered.

  He pulled over his quill and a pile of paper, then turned back to the door. ‘You, get me Captain Malish immediately,’ he roared at the surprised soldiers guarding the door. ‘And you, stand by to take these orders to the city gates at once.’

  After the guards had left, one to fetch Malish and the other laden with the sheaf of papers, Lord Lazlac strode over to the massive four-poster bed. He felt under the bottom mattress and pulled out something long and hard, swathed in a velvet cloth, which had been hidden there.

  Lord Lazlac threw off the cloth, revealing a huge sword in an ornate gold scabbard. Grasping the sword by the hilt, he pulled it free from the casing, flourishing it over his head. Lord Lazlac felt a rush of power and strength surge through his arm. He held the Sun Sword – the sacred symbol of Tiregian royalty, reputed to have vast mystical powers.

  Lord Lazlac studied it carefully. The tarnished blade flashed dully in the lamplight. The hilt was gold, carved with ornate designs of leaping sun rays, with tiny bejewelled flowers and plants unfurling underneath. On the reverse side were engravings of waves and fish glimmering under a missing moon.

  The sword had once been an object of immense beauty and craftsmanship. Now it was ruined, its hilt marred with ugly wounds where two large gems had been removed.

  Lord Lazlac sighed with regret. His orders were clear – the Sun Sword must now be destroyed. Only then would it be impossible for the Sun Sword to be reunited with the Sun Gem and the Moon Pearl. The Sedahs did not believe the sword had magical powers but Emperor Raef was taking no more chances. Lazlac lowered the sword reluctantly. It seemed to have a strange pull on him.

  Quickly the thought came to him that he could ignore his orders and conceal it again where only he knew where it was, perhaps up the chimney, or under the floorboards. Such a weapon should not be destroyed. Lord Lazlac was just hurrying across the room to find a new hiding place when Captain Malish knocked on the door and entered, his eyes immediately drawn to the massive sword in his commander’s hands.

  ‘Captain, I want you to … I want you to destroy this sword,’ ordered Lord Lazlac. ‘Burn it, snap it, cast it into the deepest bowels of the earth, but just get rid of it.’

  Captain Malish nodded his understanding, saluting as he went to take the sword. Governor Lazlac seemed strangely reluctant to let go, and held on to the hilt for just a few moments too long, until it was almost as if they were tussling over it. At last Governor Lazlac pushed the sword away from him with great force. Captain Malish gingerly wrapped it in his black cloak and hurried off to complete his task.

  A few blocks from the eastern city gate, Saxon and Lily dropped back behind the others. Master Drummond adopted a new persona – a drunken innkeeper delivering ale. He wore a bright red velvet coat with half the brass buttons missing and a few gravy stains down the chest. A red felt hat was squashed on his head.

  ‘Hurry up, you lazy larrikins,’ he shouted, waving his whip around dangerously and slurring his words. ‘We’re late with this delivery. Rotten useless stableboys deserve a good whipping,’ he explained to the Sedah guards lounging at the gateway.

  The guards were bored with weeks of checking old dames’ grocery baskets, and farmers’ cartloads of cabbages. It had been two months since the surprise Sedah invasion, and resistance had been sporadic and disorganised. The worst they had really faced had been the occasional old peasant spitting on them or calling them names. Once these troublemakers had been severely punished, the rest of the population had sullenly returned to their own business.

  It was now late in the day. The two guards glanced disinterestedly into the cart, lifting up a square of canvas. They totally ignored the two browbeaten stableboys leading the packhorses.

  ‘You lads should come down to my inn some evening. I serve the best ale in Tira,’ Master Drummond boasted to the men. ‘The Merrow Maid, over near the north gate. Prettiest barmaids too. Everyone knows where it is.’

  The guards nodded, a spark of interest finally lighting their faces. ‘Could do with a pot of ale, now,’ one said to the other. ‘All right, on your way, old man. Get all these animals out of the way before they clog up the gateway with horse dung.’

  Obediently, Master Drummond cracked his whip and giddy-upped to Judy. The convoy moved across the gently arched bridge, which crossed the deep chasm of the River Bryn. To the north they could hear the thundering of the Jigadee Falls and see the billowing mist rising in the air, fractured with tiny rainbows.

  A few minutes later Saxon and Lily stepped up to the guards, carrying a pile of empty, earthy sacks. Lily’s hair was hidden under a dirty kerchief. Both had filthy fingernails and hands, and sullen expressions on their faces.

  ‘Been to market, have you, sonny?’ asked one of the guards.

  ‘Yeah, to sell ’tatoes,’ Saxon replied gruffly.

  ‘Turn out your pockets,’ ordered the guard, tapping the sides of Saxon’s thighs with his stout wooden cudgel. Saxon muttered grumpily. Aisha growled deep and low, her hackles raised.

  ‘And control your dog, or I’ll slit its throat,’ added the guard. Lily slipped her hand under Aisha’s collar, quietening her immediately. Saxon emptied his pockets, displaying the contents on his half-curled palms – a length of twine, a homemade catapult, a round stone and a few silver coins. The guard snapped the catapult in two, throwing the broken twigs over the parapet into the chasm below. Then he scooped up the silver coins and dropped them in his own pocket.

  ‘That’s our market money,’ exclaimed Saxon indignantly. ‘I’ve gotta take that ’ome to Marm for the ’tatoes.’

  ‘Not any more it isn’t,’ sniggered the guard. ‘You’re lucky I don’t arrest you for carrying a dangerous weapon, so be grateful. On your way.’

  At that moment, a young Sedah guard called Burgis elbowed his way enthusiastically through the queue, carrying urgent orders. The waiting peasants wrinkled their noses. This guard had a peculiar, cloying smell about him.

  Lily and Saxon started eagerly across the bridge, but Aisha raised her hackles once more and growled fiercely. Lily whistled impatiently, and Aisha turned and followed.

  ‘Vicious dog! Should have finished it off,’ growled the guard. Burgis looked after the two children and the large muddy dog crossing the bridge. The dog somehow looked a bit familiar. He turned his mind back to the job at hand.
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  ‘Important message from Governor Lazlac,’ he said, saluting smartly.

  ‘Yeah, right. What is it this time?’ replied the bored guard. ‘Do we need to look out for suspicious grannies wearing shawls? Or maybe old codgers with lethal walking sticks?’

  Burgis handed over the sealed parchment. For some reason, his eyes were drawn once more to the two children and the dog at the far side of the bridge, but after a moment he turned and trotted back to the palace, his duty fulfilled.

  The guard on the city gate snorted in disbelief, reading the opened note. ‘Looks like the governor’s worried about kids again. We have to look out for three boys and a blonde girl with long hair, travelling together with a dog and a cat. As if we haven’t got anything better to do than watch out for kids and their pets.’

  ‘This city is full of grotty kids, let alone mongrels and fleabags,’ retorted his colleague. ‘The governor must be losing his marbles if he thinks we’ll find the four he’s obsessed with. I wonder what they’ve done?’

  The first guard lifted his eyebrows in derision. ‘They’re just kids. They probably forgot to say please and thank you to his precious lordship.’

  A couple of kilometres from the city walls, Master Drummond pulled over into a sheltered copse by the side of the road. Here the five horses were transformed from scruffy packhorses to sleek, swift mounts, looking much more like the royal hunters they had been bred to be. Lily brushed them all vigorously, removing the mud and twigs, until their coats glistened. The horses were in superb condition. Master Drummond had looked after them well while the children had been away sailing on the Owl – feeding them his finest oats and exercising them daily. All were newly shod, and the leather of the tack had been polished until it gleamed.

  Master Drummond handed out the saddles and bridles. He had replaced Roana’s bejewelled lady’s sidesaddle with a more practical astride saddle.