The Palace Library

by Steven Loveridge

  The Captain directed the gig towards the cliff.

  “Stop!” This time the sailors backed their oars at the shout, and Harry fell back down with a thump. It was the sailor looking out for rocks who had shouted, “There be rocks. We’ll have to go to the port, then starboard then port again to be clear.” So they zigzagged their way across to the cliff.

  “Beware the direct route,” said Harry to no one in particular. “This must be it.”

  As they approached the cave, slowly, gently, the opening got bigger and bigger.

  “Easy oars,” was the command this time and the sailors just lifted their oars out of the water. As they move slowly towards the entrance there was just room for the boat to glide inwards towards the gloom.

  Harry clambered back and sat next to the Captain. “Surely this is a magical cave, the way the entrance got bigger as we got closer.”

  The Captain smiled. “Magical it may be, Harry. But ‘tis the tide that makes the cave bigger. The level of the sea is dropping and later tonight this entrance will be hidden again.”

  Harry kicked himself for being so foolish, and was glad the Captain had not teased him about it, but there was no time to worry about that.

  Inside was bigger, much, much bigger, with a high ceiling arching way above the water. They should have been in darkness. Yet within was a luminous glow that lit a grand cavern. Two channels of lava slowly fed their molten rock into the sea either side of them, but there was more to the glow than even that. Two or three hundred yards beyond they could see sleeping dragons on the rocks, motionless, but snoring. As they snored little trickles of flame flew out of their mouths, creating more light within.

  The light might have been pretty, but the smell was not. If you imagine a kennel without a window full of dogs, all with bad breath, combined with the smell of a hundred dead and rotting rats, then this was all that and much worse. Much, much worse. “Putrid.” said Harry to himself. “Now I know what it means.” He thought it was just about possible that Dragons’ Bane smelt better than this.

  The sailors themselves were almost paralysed with fear, but the Captain steadied them with a whisper and discipline stayed firm. The Captain said to Harry. “Remember now, this is no time for heroics. For now we’re here to look.”

  At that moment, the largest dragon seemed to open one eye and stare directly at them. An extra large jet of flame blew out of his nostrils and they saw clearly where he was lying. He was perched on a rock in the centre of the cavern, but this was no ordinary rock. This was a rock made of gold and silver and gemstones. It glittered brilliantly and threw patterns across the wall. The crew of the boat sat motionless, mesmerised by the single eye of the dragon, convinced that soon they would be burnt to a cinder and torn into pieces when it woke.

  The dragon lifted a paw and scratched its nose. Then the eye shut and the flames subsided. The dragon had not seen them. It was still sleeping.

  Quietly and quickly, the Captain gave the command to row and the boat turned back into the sunlight and they went back to the beach. They were all delighted their trip to the dragons’ lair was over and they all hoped they would not have to go back. Except Harry. He knew he had to go back. And the oily stone would be under the largest dragon on the little island made of treasure.

  As they returned to the beach, they saw the girls waiting with great mounds of purple flowers. The sun was dipping down in the west and they could see Edwin silhouetted with his hands in the air. Harry could not quite make out why. Then as they came closer, he realised. Edwin was holding up the new Sword. Its point was resting on the ashen beach. His hands were on the hilt, but since it was much taller than him, his hands were above his head.

  “The Sword is forged,” said Edwin once they were on the beach. It was tall with a wide flat blade and simple metal hilt and hand guard. “The blade needs sharpening and finishing. Its power will be complete only when the diamond is fitted here.” He pointed to a delicate iron cage at the top of the hilt. “Later, I’ll add ornate work in gold so that it looks special at ceremonies. But once the stone is fitted, it should have all the power of Ascalon. For now, we must return to the ship before darkness descends and the dragons awake. You have taken your time!”

  Later, the ship was shrouded in darkness and the men aboard were given orders to be silent for fear of rousing the dragons. There was little risk of those orders being broken. Inside the chart room, Ascalon, re-forged, sat on the table and the green light of the blade glowed within. The Captain, the children, Edwin and Eloise sat round in council, making plans for the next day.

  Harry described the dragons’ lair and what they had seen. “I don’t want to go back there, but I must. It stinks, it’s dark and the dragons look more evil than I could have imagined. The dragons were asleep, but it seems clear they’re easily disturbed. We will definitely need the Dragons’ Bane, Eleanor.”

  “We started to experiment on the beach,” replied Eleanor. “We dried some out in the heat of the lava, and then set fire to it. It certainly burnt and there was a terrible smell, but it burnt so quickly. I don’t know how to keep it burning for the time you need to row and get the diamond.”

  “Time,” added the Captain, “is something you don’t have. We only spotted the cave as the tide was going out late in the afternoon. The cave won’t be uncovered until the afternoon. Today, we only went to the entrance and returned to the ship just in time for darkness to fall. Tomorrow you’ll have less than an hour. You’ll need to be swift.”

  With a grim reality, Edwin added, “If we survive the night with the dragons awake. Each hour of the darkness will be more dangerous than the one before.”

  Harry opened his book and kept asking it questions whilst the others talked through what they would need the next day. Harry’s book just kept writing out the Prophecy again and again. He slammed it shut.

  “Impatience won’t help you, Harry. The book’s meant to help you. Read out the Prophecy again. Aloud, so we all may hear,” Edwin commanded.

  So Harry did. And they sat silently, wondering about its cryptic words. All of them, that is, except Edwin, who fumbled around under his leather apron to find something. When he had found it, he placed it on the table. “This is one thing that will help.”

  It was his pipe. Harry petulantly said, “Smoking that may help you relax, but I don’t know what good it will do us!”

  “Think again, Harry” said Edwin. Harry felt he was being put down unreasonably. After all, it was he who would have to face the danger.

  Eleanor worked it out as well and came to Harry’s rescue. “Of course! You’ll have to smoke it!”

  “Oh,” said Harry. “I see.” Then so did Grace.

  “Will someone explain?” asked the Captain, who had never seen a pipe before and had no idea what this object was.

  “Show him,” answered Harry. So Edwin lit the pipe and puffed away. Then he drew in the smoke and blew it towards the Captain, who spluttered.

  “You see,” said Harry. “By breathing out the vapoured air.”

  The Captain looked in amazement. “You do that by choice?” he asked, but Edwin ignored him.

  He passed the pipe across to Harry, “I think you’d better practice young Harry, otherwise it is you who will be spluttering to wake the dragons - and Dragons’ Bane won’t be nearly as sweet as these herbs.” So Harry puffed and choked, and puffed and choked, and eventually got the hang of holding enough smoke to breathe it out, before turning green, feeling sick and saying, “I never, ever want to smoke again.”

  “Very wise,” muttered the Captain.

  While he did that, the others went through the plans until Grace suddenly said, “I’ve been thinking about why the dragon couldn’t see you with the eye he opened. That eye must be blind. Beware the direct route isn’t about zigzagging to miss the rocks. It means go towards the dragon’s blind side. And wear another’s suit isn’t about that hairy tweed suit Horrible Hair Bun made you wear at all. I know what you have to do.” So Gra
ce explained it. Then the Captain told them to go to bed and get some sleep. There was work to be done in the morning.

  The worry should have kept them all awake, but all the exercise and energy spent during the day meant the girls soon dozed off. Harry was less fortunate. It must have been two in the morning when he heard the noise.

  “Help me! I can’t hold on.” It was Eleanor’s voice. He rushed into the girls’ room with Edwin close behind him holding an axe, but it was put down quickly. Eleanor was having a nightmare and Eloise was gently stroking her head. The screams changed into gibberish and she seemed to go to sleep again. Then quite suddenly, she sat up with her eyes wide open and shouted, “We must be rid of her! It is our duty to King Louis of France! Let her go.” But she was still asleep and collapsed back. With those words, Eloise had shrunk back. But no one noticed, for both Grace and Harry were tucking Eleanor back into her cot. Harry said, “Mummy always says not to wake her when she dreams. It will be fine in the morning, I hope.”

  “We must discover what that means,” said Edwin. “Where can she have had that idea or heard those words? And why hasn’t she mentioned it before? King Louis of France is England’s worst enemy. Treachery is near and we must watch our backs!” Only at the last moment did Edwin stop himself from thumping the side of the cot, realising what a noise he might make. Instead, he smashed his bunched fist into his other hand.

  “I’ll stay here with the girls,” said Edwin. “Harry, return to the other cabin and sleep.” Edwin stayed and watched over them. Sophie whined once gently and lay right next to Eleanor’s cot, her eyes moving from Eleanor to Edwin to Eloise, watching carefully. Like the others, she was confused as to where the traitor might be. Her sixth sense was faulty and since Guy of Caen had vanished, she too was struggling to think where the traitor could be found.

  Harry could not sleep, of course. He thought about the following day and wondered what on earth Eleanor had meant. It would have to wait until morning.

  20. Treachery

  Harry’s ‘suit’ had to be prepared for his adventure into the dragons’ lair. It was a brilliant piece of thinking by Grace, but the carpenters had their work cut out. They started before sunrise, just as dawn was breaking with a glimmer of light enabling them to see what they were doing. Ropes had been drawn from the stores in the hold. Pulleys were set up. A makeshift crane was established over the bow. Finally, everything was in place to move the figurehead from the bowsprit. The saw rasped its way backwards and forwards through the old oak. The Saint George, the flagship of the King’s fleet, was to lose her figurehead and instead it was to be fitted to the gig and become a disguise for Harry.

  Once the figurehead was lifted, the carpenters needed to hollow it out. The solid piece of oak from which it was fashioned had hardened and there was neither room nor time to spare. Finally there was space enough for a small boy to crawl inside. But he needed to see, so an eye was drilled out. It was tunnel vision but it would have to do. Then a hollow needed to be made in the mouth. This dragon disguise would not make real flames, but it would blow real smoke.

  Once this was done, fitting the figurehead, Harry’s new ‘suit’, to the gig was easy. Making the gig float was not. Great empty barrels were tied to the bow of the gig so that the weight of the figurehead did not drown it. Then it floated, but it became a beast to row, especially since there was now only room for two oarsmen as well as Harry and Edwin, who had insisted on going. “Someone experienced with a pipe must accompany him!” he said, with a grim smile on his face.

  It was not until the afternoon that Harry and Grace were able to find time alone with Eleanor and ask the question that had been in their minds all morning. Several times Harry had attempted to begin the conversation with Eleanor, but someone always interrupted them. Even Eleanor brushed Harry and Grace away, saying she needed to prepare the Dragons’ Bane properly to make it work in the pipe. Periodically that morning a foul smell wafted across the boat as she experimented on the poop deck.

  Finally, just as everything was ready for the expedition, Harry was able to ask the question, “What did you mean last night in your nightmare?”

  “What nightmare?” replied Eleanor looking at them weirdly.

  “Don’t you remember?” said Harry. “You were crying out for help.”

  “Yes,” said Grace. “You said, ‘You must be rid of her. It is our duty to King Louis of France!’“

  Eleanor looked at them each slowly, and then put her hand to her mouth. “That wasn’t last night. And I’d completely forgotten about it. The horrors of the storm must have hidden it in my mind. But it wasn’t me who said it.”

  “But you said it last night,” interrupted Grace.

  “Never mind,” said Harry. “Let her speak.”

  “It was in the storm. It was Guy of Caen.” Eleanor paused. “I remember now. He trod on my hand and shouted that instruction to Eloise. Then something happened and he vanished. He was one of the ones drowned. He was the traitor. We never did like the look of him.”

  They all looked at each other aghast. “But that means Eloise is a traitor as well.” said Harry.

  “But she saved my life,” said Eleanor remembering more. “She scratched at his eyes and made him bleed. That’s why he went overboard. It doesn’t make sense. Why would she save me if she was a traitor?”

  The question went unanswered. Edwin and the Captain came up to the children.

  “It is time, Harry.” said the Captain. “Are you ready?”

  Harry looked at them with a moment of panic, driving the conversation that he had just been having out of his mind. “No. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

  Edwin looked at him. “Then you are honest and you’re a real man. You cannot be ready until you look your fears in the eye. So you must ‘box up your fears and frights’ just as St George did and you’ll succeed. The boat is ready.”

  Eleanor unbuckled the girdle around her waist, the belt which bore the short dagger that Edgar the Librarian had given her. “Here, Harry,” she said. “Take this with you. You may need it to help you.”

  Harry reached out to take the dagger, but then he paused. “No, Eleanor. It was a gift for you for your own defence. Who knows, you may need it yourself here. Look out for each other. We have axes and cutlasses in the boat if we need them.”

  “Hurry please,” said the Captain, “or you’ll miss the tide!”

  So they had left the flagship, climbing down into the odd-looking little boat, a dragon at the front, a gig at the back and two barrels strapped to the side.

  At that stage, a gentle southerly breeze started to blow, helping the oarsmen by pushing the cumbersome craft towards the island and the dragons’ lair quickly. Everyone on The Saint George watched until the strange gig turned the headland and went out of sight.

  Eleanor had Sophie by her side and looked at Grace, “We must find Eloise and ask for an explanation. I don’t understand it and it’s hard to believe. Maybe I misheard in the storm.”

  “Do you think we should ask the Captain to help us?” replied Grace.

  “No,” said Eleanor. “There might be nothing to it. If it were Guy of Caen we had to face, then certainly, but Eloise is timid. In any case, we have Sophie with us and I have my dagger.”

  “I agree then,” said Grace.

  The girls went to the stern of the ship and the cabins, where they expected to find Eloise. Outside Edwin and Harry’s door, Sophie’s hackles rose and she started to growl. It was a warning sign.

  “Where are the guards?” asked Grace. Two sailors should have been standing outside the door of the cabin, where the Sword of State was stored.

  Very gingerly, Eleanor pushed open the door of their cabin and the three of them walked slowly in. A strange green glow lit the room. Eloise was standing by the long window at the back of the cabin. She shook her head from side to side as if to say, “No,” but it was too late. The door was slammed shut and the girls and Sophie found themselves staring at the face of
Guy of Caen, who was holding the Sword of State towards them. It glowed brightly in his hand.

  The heat and stink of his fetid breath was felt on their cheeks as he leant in and hissed, “I’m so glad you’re here. I can deal with you once and for all as well as this Sword.”

  Eleanor was shocked, but managed to speak up, “How did you survive?”

  “Your friend Eloise fed me and cared for me - just at the moment when she thought she might be rid of me too. I hid in the hold waiting for my moment. I bet you didn’t expect that! She’s been in my power these last six months while my true sovereign, the King of France has had her brother locked up in his dungeon.”

  “Eloise!” said Eleanor looking up at her, but the girl only looked shamefully at the floor.

  “Enough,” said Guy of Caen. “Eloise, break open that window!”

  Eloise broke the long gallery window at the back of the ship. Then with one broad step, he turned and flung the Sword out of the window.

  Sophie had been waiting for her chance and saw it now, during the brief moment he had his back turned. She pounced and knocking him over, she bit the traitor hard on the shoulder. Then with a single leap, she flew out of window into the sea after the Sword.

  Eleanor took her chance and drew her dagger, wishing she really knew how to use it. Its blade now glowed intently as she pointed it at the neck of the traitor on the floor. Eloise had shrunk back against the wall of the cabin, inert. Grace was by the window looking into the sea and threw off her cloak. She was a good swimmer, but it would be freezing and frightening. She turned back towards Eleanor and looked at her.

  “Go!” Eleanor shouted. And with that encouragement, Grace dived into the sea after the dog and the Sword, but not without crying “Help!” at the top of her voice.

  Inside the cabin, Guy recovered his breath and looked at the dagger and Eleanor. “Don’t think two children will stop me!” He was fit and a warrior. The bite did little to stop him and with a swift move, he knocked the dagger out of Eleanor’s hand so that it skidded across the floor to Eloise’s feet. Now Guy of Caen had Eleanor in a neck lock.