Cy threw away the note card which Matt had printed out for him and began to ad lib furiously . . .
CHAPTER •20•
LATER, MUCH MUCH later, Cy, Hilde and her grandfather trudged wearily by the side of a great forest. Cy glanced sideways. Although he had never once complained, it was obvious that the old man was very tired. It had been really very late last night before everything had been packed up and put away. Hilde and her grandfather had waited patiently hidden in the trees down by the edge of the river until Cy had come with his piece of dreamsilk to take them to safety. Now they were back in the tenth century – but where?
Cy looked all around. The path went on for miles with no sign of any shelter. He had been trying for what seemed like ages to dream up York so that they could return to their own town. But it just wasn’t happening. What was he supposed to do with her and her grandfather? He couldn’t take them back again into the twenty-first century. Yet he couldn’t just walk off and leave them to fend for themselves.
‘We should rest,’ he said.
Hilde pointed with her hand. ‘There,’ she said, ‘there we will rest. At the crossroads.’
‘Crossroads?’ Cy blinked. He couldn’t see a crossroads. In fact he could hardly see at all. Harald’s helmet was way too big for him, but he did like wearing it. Cy took the helmet off and looked again. There was a crossroads . . . had it been there a moment ago? He looked at Hilde. She gave him a brief smile.
‘I too can make good stories.’
‘Oh,’ said Cy.
‘Oh, indeed, swineherd skald.’
At the crossroads they could see in the distance a stretch of water and the straggle of huts that showed the start of a township.
Hilde stopped. ‘This is where our lives part, swineherd,’ she said.
Cy stared at her. ‘King Eadred has defeated Erik Bloodaxe at Stainmore. The Vikings will leave now, so you are no longer in danger. I thought that you would return to your relatives in York . . . er . . . Jorvik?’
‘I am not going back to live as before,’ said Hilde. ‘If I return to my uncle’s household then I will be bartered as a bride to whoever pays him the best price. And I will not be in thrall to any man.’
‘What else can you do?’ asked Cy.
‘I will leave England,’ said Hilde. ‘Many years ago Grandfather journeyed to a far land on the rim of the western sea, and he has always wanted to return. Some call it Vinland. Strange plants and fruit, and all manner of things such as we have never seen, grow there. The weather is kinder, the seas are full of fish, and travellers tell stories of wondrous sights, huge lakes and falling water.’ She looked at Cy shrewdly. ‘You also are a traveller, I think. Though what lands you travel in I do not know.’
‘Neither do I a lot of the time,’ said Cy.
She smiled, and then she pointed to a rough track which led away through the trees and into the forest. ‘That way leads down to the river, and to a boatman that my grandfather knows. Together we will find some means to travel back to Vinland, and there we will live, with no-one to tell us what to do.’
Cy shook his head. ‘I can’t let you do that. It’s far too dangerous.’
Hilde put her hands on her hips. ‘I do not recall asking your permission.’
Hilde’s grandfather chuckled. ‘Better not to argue, boy. I never do.’
Cy hesitated and then he held out his hand. ‘Good luck.’
After a moment Hilde took his hand awkwardly in her own. ‘Good luck for you, swineherd skald.’ She turned away quickly and, taking her grandfather’s arm, she began to walk along the track which led to the forest. When she reached the first trees, she looked around, waved and was gone.
‘I hope she’ll be all right,’ said Cy as the two figures blurred and disappeared in the darkness of the wood. ‘They are very brave to decide to go and live in a new land.’
‘Don’t you know anything?’ said the Dream Master. ‘Vinland is North America. Just think . . . shopping malls, freeways, drive-in movies, interstate trucking . . . she’ll have a ball.’
‘Doesn’t all of that come a bit later on?’ said Cy. ‘At this time North America has hostile tribes and ferocious animals.’
The Dream Master swung his cloak. ‘I wouldn’t think any of that would bother Hilde too much. Believe me, she’s capable of asserting herself anywhere.
‘Meanwhile . . .’ he peered into his cloak, ‘I’d better go and rescue Ivar.’
‘Ivar?’ said Cy. ‘I thought you’d taken him and Harald back to Stainmore?’
‘Emm, not exactly,’ said the dwarf. ‘Harald missed the battle. You’d’ve thought he would have been grateful, not getting killed, but he was so angry with me that my concentration slipped and I let Ivar slip into another TimeSpace.’
‘Where is he?’ asked Cy.
The Dream Master peered into his dreamcloak. ‘Wandering around the Millennium Dome.’ He leaned over and tapped lightly on the top of the Viking helmet. ‘Don’t forget to bury that in the right place,’ he said. Then he swung his cloak and disappeared.
Cy walked on by the river into York, and back along the path he had been dragged along when captured. When he reached the burnt-out shell of Hilde’s grandfather’s house, he took off Harald’s helmet and carefully hid it in the midden pile. There it would be safe. Almost certainly no-one would look there, not for a long, long time.
CHAPTER •21•
‘LAST CHANCE SHOPPING trip,’ Mrs Chalmers announced as they were packed and ready to leave on the Friday morning, ‘apart from Eddie and Chloe. You two still need time to recover from your dreadful ordeal. Matt says that sometimes the actors do get a bit carried away.’ Mrs Chalmers looked with very little sympathy at Eddie and Chloe. ‘Both of you can have a nice rest while everyone else is in the shops, and then sit with the teachers on the bus all the way home.’
Eddie said nothing. He still looked a bit stunned, thought Cy, but then being walloped round the head by Hilde would leave anyone feeling fragile. Chloe opened her mouth and then closed it again. She was exhausted, what with having had to walk ten miles back from outside the town. She had told a story about a little dwarf in a black cloak stopping the runaway carriage and then disappearing with Harald into thin air. Nobody believed her, and hardly anyone would listen to her any more.
‘Right,’ said Mr Gillespie. ‘We’ll have one hour in the Coppergate Shopping Centre, and then home!’
Everyone gave a big cheer. Cy noticed that the teachers cheered the loudest.
And now, as he walked along the Coppergate, Cy knew exactly where he was going. The Jorvik Centre was just a few minutes’ walk away. He could buy his souvenirs in the shop there. Also . . . there was something in particular that he wanted to see.
The shop and exhibits were not too crowded and he managed to find some free space in front of the glass case which held the helmet hologram.
It revolved slowly in front of him. Cy thought it was stunningly beautiful, and now not threatening at all. The domed crown, the nose-guard, the intricate design. He stepped back to take it all in, and collided with someone standing just behind him. It was one of the Centre guides who was renewing some of the display boards.
RECENT EXCAVATIONS IN CANADA the sign read.
‘They’ve proved that the Vikings were in North America before Columbus,’ said the Centre guide. ‘These are photographs from recent excavations.’
Cy looked at the display panels. So this was Vinland, land of falling water and tall trees. There was a photograph of a dig with a group of archaeologists grouped round a Viking tomb. Something about one of the figures seemed familiar. Cy peered closer at a young woman standing holding a Viking battle-axe. He saw her fair hair . . . blue eyes. Recognition struck like a hammer blow. ‘Hilde!’ he cried.
The Centre guide gave Cy a strange look. ‘Do you know her?’
‘Yes, no, well . . . maybe,’ said Cy. ‘Who is she?’
‘She’s Ingrid Hilde, one of the foremost Canadian Viking
experts. We have a lot of contact with her. She believes her ancestors came from York and settled in Canada centuries ago. That some great-grandfather was related to a Saxon prince.’
‘Grandmother,’ said Cy, ‘definitely grandmother.’
So maybe all of it was true, Cy thought when he was back on the bus. He looked up at the City walls for a moment as they passed through Monksgate. And maybe you couldn’t really define stories. The way they worked was different depending on who told it, and when you heard it. If you heard the same story years later, then you would have the memory of its first telling buried in you. Stories were special, moving like the sea with deep places and quiet shallow waters. Each story was unique, as unique as every human person.
Cy tucked the bit of paper with the Vinland website address on it into his top pocket. The piece of dreamsilk was safely wrapped up in his sweatshirt down at the bottom of his holdall. Cy took out his notepad and pencil. Mrs Chalmers had said that there would be prizes for stories written about their Viking trip. She had also said that it was a very good idea to begin your story with something happening . . . ‘Action before Reaction’ she called it. First make things happen, then do the whys and wherefores after. Or, as the Dream Master might say, let it happen. The story should be allowed to go its own way.
So, thought Cy . . . he should try to have an event first. Supposing he made it begin with dialogue? Dialogue with something happening . . . something fast. Say someone in danger . . . they could be running away.
Cy smiled to himself. He knew exactly how his story would begin. He gripped his pencil tightly and began to write.
‘Move!’ shrieked the girl . . .
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Theresa Breslin is the Carnegie Medal winning author of over thirty books for children and young adults whose work has appeared on stage, radio and TV. Her books are hugely popular with young people, librarians and teachers. Remembrance, her top selling YA novel of youth in WW1, has now been reissued to include Book Notes. The Dream Master was shortlisted for the Children’s Book Award. Divided City was shortlisted for ten book awards, winning two outright.
ALSO BY THERESA BRESLIN:
THE NOSTRADAMUS PROPHECY
A dramatic adventure story set in sixteenth century France.
THE MEDICI SEAL
A gloriously rich and authentic story set in Italy in 1502.
REMEMBRANCE
An epic tale of young lives altered by World War One.
SASKIA‘S JOURNEY
A haunting tale of self-discovery.
DIVIDED CITY
Two boys are caught up in sectarian violence in Glasgow.
For Junior Readers:
THE DREAM MASTER
DREAM MASTER NIGHTMARE!
DREAM MASTER GLADIATOR
DREAM MASTER ARABIAN NIGHTS
For more information about Theresa Breslin’s books, visit:
www.theresabreslin.co.uk
DREAM MASTER NIGHTMARE!
AN RHCP DIGITAL EBOOK 978 1 446 49504 9
Published in Great Britain by RHCP Digital,
an imprint of Random House Children’s Publishers UK
A Penguin Random House Company
This ebook edition published 2011
Copyright © Theresa Breslin, 2000
Chapter head illustrations copyright © David Wyatt, 2000
First Published in Great Britain
Corgi Yearling 9780440863953 2001
The right of Theresa Breslin to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
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