It was Proule and Mary Finney. “You stole my shillings,” she screamed. “All I had in the world for my old age.” She clutched his shoulder and began to drag him towards camp.
Proule tried to disengage himself. He couldn’t get her hand off him so he punched her twice in the belly. She doubled over.
“Listen good, or yer won’t make it to old age. I ain’t even seen yer stupid shillings, woman. And how did yer come by them? Huh?”
“You have ’em, I know it,” she gasped. “Buyers said he won two shillings off you last night, and you’re usually skint.”
“He’s a liar. Those shillings I give him are mine and always were,” Proule yelled. “Now shut yer yap or I’ll give yer a hiding so bad yer’ll crawl into a hole and croak there.” He hit her again, and she crumpled. Certainly Proule seemed in a terrible mood this day, mayhap from lack of sleep. But that was no reason to hit a woman, even a poor excuse for one like Mary Finney. Besides, she was the only woman we had on the island, and she did the cooking. Fence ran to her, and after a moment’s hesitation I followed.
“Go away, Master Proule, you bad, evil man,” yelled Fence, shaking his fist and displaying his reckless — and to my mind rather stupid — courage.
“Why, yer….”
“Go away or I’ll tell the admiral,” Fence shouted, waving his arms at Proule and then throwing them around Mary, who was still winded.
“And I’ll see that he does,” mumbled I at last, finding my tongue. I hated Mary, but I hated Proule more. And I had to support Fence, who had supported me often enough. If that meant I might possibly worm my way into Mary’s graces, so much the better. I had enemies enough and to spare. And I couldn’t help but remember the tall tree’s message.
Tempest rushed out of nowhere, as dogs are apt to do, on his way to somewhere else. And he bit Proule on the knee. This was no doubt at least in part revenge for past crimes.
“Hear, hear, what’s going on?” cried Beerson, running up to us.
“Nothing. There ain’t nothing going on,” yelled Proule, swatting at Tempest. “That blinking cur bit the hell out of my knee.”
“Hear, hear,” Beerson said again, kicking the dog as he clearly didn’t know which of the two, man or beast, was the miscreant.
Tempest removed his canines from Proule’s flesh and growled mightily at Beerson. But he knew when he was outnumbered. He left fast, tail between his legs.
“He stole my shillings,” groaned Mary, “the dung-faced thief. They were in the pouch attached to my skirt.
I’ve carried some of them all the way here from England and earned the others on the voyage. Rightly earned by an honest woman, washing clothes and cooking for the crew.
For my old age, y’know. Now they’re gone and the pouch is gone too.”
“There, there, mistress. We’ll track the mongrel down and recover the pouch. Mayhap it’s in its mouth.”
“I ain’t talking about the the dog, you dimwit. I’m talking about Proule.”
“Sorry mistress.” Beerson looked around for the culprit but the culprit had vanished.
“He stole my money and he socked me in the belly. Not once but thrice. These boys, though it pains me to say it, ain’t involved.” She paused before adding grudgingly, “They likely saved me from a worse roughing up.”
“Don’t you worry. I shall tell the admiral,” said Beerson.
“He’ll get to the bottom of it one way or another, praise the Lord.”
As Beerson helped Mary back to camp, with us following, she turned to me. “I’ve misjudged you, Starveling, and though I ain’t exackly sorry for it, as you’re such a rude little parasite, I’ll be sure to try an’ treat you better in future.”
As this seemed both a compliment and an insult bound up together, I just nodded, not sure how to reply.
We were soon at Winters’ hut.
“We have no dungeon here. Take two crewmen and fetch Proule. Tie him to a tree so he cannot escape,” Winters ordered Beerson, when he heard. “Let me think on this matter further, for he has performed other outrages lately. I will hear evidence, and we shall have a proper trial.”
“When shall we have it, sir?” asked Beerson.
“In three days, to give us time to prepare.”
“That means we can still go to the maze tomorrow night, at the time of the full moon,” Fence whispered to me.
“Huh? I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” The very thought of the labyrinth now filled me with dismay.
Winters was still talking: “That is my ruling, Beerson.
Find Proule immediately, and keep him safely bound until Friday.” I was suddenly glad to be here on this island with the admiral, and not back on the other one with that lunatic Boors, who would certainly forget who Proule was less than a half hour into the trial, if not before.
“Proule can’t hurt you now,” Fence said, after they had caught him. We were friends again and I grinned at him. Later I silently ticked off a list of the villains who according to the message tree might run me to ground. There were none left! Scratcher was stuck on the other island; Mary was reformed; and Proule was securely tied to the trunk of a tall palm tree.
If my head hadn’t still pounded and thumped every now and then, I would have cantered for joy. Later I realized that who was absent could in certain circumstances become present, and that who was tied could come untied. I shivered at the thought. Also, those who were reformed could fall back into their old ways, but somehow I didn’t believe that would happen with Mary. She knew where her bread was buttered, as I had said once or twice of myself. As Scratcher had said of me. Not that there was any butter here. Nor bread neither.
CHAPTER 27
SMALL BEER AND MINCE PIES
I hadn’t wanted to retrace my steps along the path. But the most interesting thing about my friendship with Fence was that when one of us wanted to back out of an adventure, the other was usually hot to be on its trail. I had been full of excitement and vigor two days before, when Fence had trotted away with his pail bumping against his knee. Now it was his turn to urge me on, as we sat in the lean-to. “Just think, Robin, we have come this far. We’ve solved the verses and ciphers — at least for the most part. You’ve found the entrance to the labyrinth itself. Not much left. Only the cave and the crown to discover. The royal treasure itself. We can’t play the weasel now.”
“Play the weasel?”
“Give up.”
“You’re very brave all of a sudden,” I said sourly.
“I had a think that time you went on by yourself, and I realized it was right cowardly of me to go back.”
“I don’t blame you for that. True it is, I should have returned with you. But I didn’t. Still, things being as they are, you don’t know what frighted me. You haven’t seen the old wizardy man with the white beard. You haven’t seen the many-branched lightning or heard the thunder crash like cymbals. You haven’t seen the message tree or branches alight with glittering cobwebs or the spiders blazing within or … uh….” I ran out of breath and words at the same time.
“You described them to me right well, as you’re now doing all over again. And remember, we defeated Proule, who’s a real devil. The men caught and bound him. I reckon we could stand against anyone or anything, as long as we stick together. And mayhap we could take Tempest with us. He can be brave as a lion too.”
Tempest yawned.
“Besides,” continued Fence, “we don’t even know if the old man you spoke of is evil.”
“True.” But I still hadn’t wanted to go.
That night, though, Peter Fence woke me from a dream of mince pies and small beer, which I’d stolen off the barrows often enough in the past. Bleary with sleep, but with wickedness rising somewhat fitfully within me, as well as a sense of loyalty to Fence, I agreed we should find the labyrinth again. This time, perchance, we would journey through it to the bright or bitter end.
CHAPTER 28
UNDERNEATH THE TREES
&n
bsp; We were at the end of the pathway, having turned around and doubled back several times to ensure no one was following us. The dog appeared and disappeared, appeared and disapeared again, in and around trees and shrubs and tall feathery ferns. At one point he must have gone for a swim, because he came back soaked and shook himself all over us. Phew. There is nothing quite like the smell of wet dog, unless it’s dead dog. My nose wrinkled in disgust.
It was now about midnight, the full moon shining hard upon the path, turning its sand grains into tiny gems. The stars, too, winked like diamonds. There were hundreds upon hundreds of them. It was almost as bright as daylight. The scene before us was an exact reflection of the cipher, except spider webs shone golden green, showing the way into the labyrinth. No thunder, no lightning, not a single message on a single tree, and not a cloud in the sky. The old man hadn’t shown his face either this night. I took a deep breath. Suddenly, the second verse of the emblem, which I’d thought lost forever, came back to me, and I recited it to Fence:
Here is the picture that I did devise
To show thee simply how men should not be:
An inward wood, unsearched with outward
eyes
A thousand angles light will never see.
But thou who art of open heart and free,
True as thou dost pass along the way,
Shalt know what’s to be known and not
betray.
“What can it mean, Robin?”
“I think it means that we two will be safe in the labyrinth, as we’re both of open heart, and you at least are honest.”
“You are, too.”
I would have laughed aloud had I not been so afeard. “Oh, Fence, if you only knew the sum of my wickedness.”
“If it’s in the past, I don’t need to know. And it’s better that I don’t.” Fence took a deep breath before stepping off the path and onto the grass. I joined him, and we moved cautiously into the stand of trees. At the entrance the spiders winked at us, their webs like giant fishing nets, seeming to draw us in. They shone emerald and gold. The moon shone silver. But once inside, the webs disappeared, the moon and stars went out like candles, and there was no light at all. I had spots before my eyes in the velvet dark. And there was neither the sound of the sea nor any other noise save that of my own heart, beating loud and fast.
Tempest lunged at me and began to bark. “Sh,” I whispered. “You’ll wake the wizard.” He took no notice. I grabbed the fur on his back and told Fence to do likewise. “Dogs can see at night. He’ll lead us through.”
“Aye,” agreed Fence. After Tempest had bumped us into several large obstacles, however, I remembered that it was cats that could see in the dark and let him go.
But as my eyes became accustomed to the dark, I began to see grey and foggy outlines of trees and bushes, and a confusing profusion of paths. We started along one, only to have it stop a few yards in. We retraced our steps and started on another, only to have it crisscross many others and lead us back to what appeared to be the beginning. “This is like my life,” I groaned after several more tries, “lots of wrong turnings.”
“But it certainly is a labyrinth, so we’re on the way to where we should be. The cave, remember?”
“How could I forget?” I snapped, beginning to feel very tired indeed. I wished I was back at camp and asleep in the lean-to.
“We shouldn’t give up, Robin. The next path might be the one. And at least Tempest has stopped barking.”
In fact the dog had disappeared altogether. Soon he came bounding back. He grabbed Fence by the shirt and pulled.
“He knows the way! He knows the way!” Fence, triumphant, allowed himself to be dragged along. I followed, of course. But true it is, Tempest didn’t know the way, not through the labyrinth, at least. What he did know was the way to the nearest coney warren, a maze in miniature, you might say. When we reached the hole that led into it, he stopped dead He was barking madly again and I could hear him digging with his paws.
I sighed and cast my eyes down despairingly. Then I realized: there was something quite different about this path. Beginning at the warren, it was studded with fan-shaped cockle shells, which glowed in the awful dark. “Look, Fence, look here. Someone has done this on purpose to guide us. This must be the way.”
“You mean all we have to do is follow the shells?”
“Yes, along ways both curved and straight. Now see if you can get that dog to stop his racket.” I tried to hide the fact that I was almost pissing myself with excitement.
“Aye, I’ll pinch his nose, see if that’ll do it.”
It didn’t.
We left Tempest barking and followed the cockle shell path. It meandered mysteriously through darkness, the sharp branches of trees and needles of bushes scratching us as we went. I heard frogs and night insects, whereas before it had been silent, save for the dog’s racket. Once I thought I heard a shrill and hollow laugh. Fence must have heard it too, because he suddenly clung to me. But whether it really was a laugh, or a shrieking nightbird, or even a creaking bough, we knew not. And it was not repeated.
At last the path stopped. The clearing in front of it signalled the end of the labyrinth, and we emerged slowly, our eyes blinking in the light. True it is, the moon and stars were brilliant again in the night sky. It was as if they’d been waiting for us, and were shining all the harder for seeing us safe. I looked around. We were very close to the shore, and likely on the other side of the island from our camp. I wasn’t very good at reading the sky and position of the stars, so I couldn’t be certain. But, “We’re on the far southwest side of Winters Island,” said Fence, whose natural knowledge often proved very useful.
The sea roared. I could see by the expanses of wet and muddy sand that the tide was receding. Each time a wave broke on the shore, it was a little further out. There was not a single footprint, apart from our own, anywhere on the wet sand, nor the dry sand neither. Not even a pawprint. I felt we had reached the end of the world. If there were other islands further west or south of us, we couldn’t see them. The ocean seemed to stretch forever. The dog had stayed behind to worry the conies, his yapping growing ever softer as we drew further and further away from him. Distance had finally muted him. I imagined he was still at the warren, having totally forgotten us.
“I still don’t see a crown,” said Fence, as if expecting one to pop up on the grass. “If there’s a cave, it will be over yonder.” Fence pointed to a tumble of high rocks beyond the sand dunes and tall grasses that lined the shore. “Let’s hurry. There’s a red glow in the sky.”
“It can’t be long till daybreak. And we still have to find our way back.” I scrambled over the dunes and up the rocks with him, my feet slipping and sliding. Trees grew on the rocks, their long and twisting roots tangling with one another and trailing down towards the sand. I had never seen anything like them before, but I’d never have managed to climb to the top without them. I grasped a thin trunk here or a stringy root there to stop myself from crashing down.
It was hard finding anything in the muddled tangle of rocks and trees, but of course that’s the way it should be. We were, after all, at what I judged to be the end of a long trail of emblems, clues, pathways, and mazes. How could we expect finding the cave to be anything but difficult? “It’s like climbing the rigging in the Valentine,” said Fence, completely out of breath, and sliding back a little every time he moved forward.
But what was that ahead? A hole — a rather large one. Jagged rocks lined it, like the teeth of a huge and fearsome beast. “I think we’ve just reached the crow’s nest,” I announced. “Or at least, what we’re searching for…. There’s what looks to be an entrance right here, right at the top, among the highest rocks and trees. Looks dangerous, like a corcodillo with its mouth wide open.”
“Aye, you’re right.”
We both peered in, taking care not to snag ourselves on the sharp-toothed rocks. The hole smelled of dank and cold, a strange odour that I’d only s
melled once or twice before — in English caves where I’d hidden when I had nowhere safe to be. “It’s very dim. What do you see, Fence?”
“Not much at all, Robin … I wish we’d had a candle to bring, though it would have burnt out by now. It’s very dark, except …” he paused and craned his neck, “there looks to be a passageway, slanting down. But I can’t be sure.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” My heart racing, I began to clamber in. I scratched an arm as I went, but it bled little. “Well, what are you waiting for, Fence?”
“The old man. I’m greatly afeard he’s down there.” Fence was shaking, and a tear, which I pretended not to notice, squeezed out of the corner of his eye.
“Me too, but just think: The dog made enough racket to wake the dead, yet we didn’t see hide nor hair of the man. And his footprints aren’t in the sand below. Perhaps I was mistaken altogether, and only imagined I saw him. I did still have a pretty bad bump on the head, true it is. But even if he is down there, we’ll deal with it somehow. As you said yourself, we’ve stood against Proule. And we’ve already done the hard work and found almost all there is to find.”
“I did say those things, didn’t I? At the moment I wish to Heaven I hadn’t.” But Fence, after a sad groan, climbed in, very, very carefully, and on we went, past long thin outcrops descending from the ceiling like stone swords. It grew no darker, but it grew no lighter either. There was only distance and freezing cold, more distance and more cold. Down, down, down we went, hellwards, through many winding passages. Sometimes we slipped. Sometimes we skidded. Once, Fence’s big head banged hard into a stone sword. I had managed to avoid it, but turning when he cried “Ouch,” I tripped over another growing upwards from the floor. Eventually, there was sharp pain between and behind my eyes from the cold, and I could barely breathe. But the passage widened suddenly, and we found ourselves in a large and somewhat smoky cave, lit by torches.
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