Escape from Wolfhaven Castle (3 page)

Fergus whined. His ears and tail drooped.

‘Now we just need to find a way out,’ Tom said, searching for a window or door in the walls that would give him some sense of where he was. ‘One that doesn’t involve going back the way we came.’

His feet stirred up clouds of dust. Fergus sneezed.

They kept on climbing. The staircase had become so narrow that Tom’s shoulders brushed against the wall on either side, while the steps were so steep that it was like climbing a cliff. His calf muscles ached, and his throat was dry. ‘Maybe we should go back,’ Tom murmured, slowing.

Fergus whined and ran forward eagerly, pushing his nose against a faded old tapestry. He looked back at Tom and whined again.

‘What have you found, boy?’ Tom asked.

The tapestry showed a maiden sitting in a meadow, a dark unicorn lying with its head resting in her lap. As Tom lifted it aside, the fabric crumbled away in his hand and revealed a tiny door.

He bent and examined the cobwebby key perched in the lock. He tried to turn it but it was so stiff, it
wouldn’t budge. He persisted, and the key finally turned with a nerve-shredding screech. Fergus whined and pressed close to Tom. Tom pushed at the door. It wouldn’t open.

He pushed harder.

Suddenly it swung open. Tom fell through with a crash, Fergus landing right on top of him.

4

A LADY’S COMPLETE GUIDE TO
MANNERS, MORALS & MODESTY

L
ady Elanor stared drearily at the wall.

She wished her governess, Mistress Mauldred, would at least put her by the window so she had something to look at while she was strapped in her back-board. She wished Mistress Mauldred had chosen a lighter book than
A
Lady’s Complete Guide to Manners, Morals & Modesty
to balance on top of her head. She wished Mistress Mauldred would come back and unstrap her.

Suddenly there was a terrible screeching noise. Elanor looked slowly towards the sound, careful not to make the book topple off her head.

A section of the oak panelling in her room flung
open and a boy and a dog came crashing through onto the floor.

The boy was very dirty.

The dog was very large and very hairy.

Elanor stared in astonishment.

The boy sat up, rubbing his head. His dusty blond hair fell into his eyes, which were as blue as the vase of forget-me-nots on Elanor’s table. ‘Get off me,’ he said, pushing the dog away. The dog licked him lovingly. ‘Must you always lick me?’ the boy complained. ‘You have the wettest tongue in the world.’ He looked up and saw Elanor.

She stared at him.

He stared back. ‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘I am Lady Elanor Morwenna Grace de Belleterre, daughter of Wolfgang de Belleterre, Lord of Wolfhaven Castle.’ She smoothed her green silk dress over her knees.

‘Fungus!’ Tom exclaimed, then went red. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t …’

‘I don’t mind,’ Elanor said quickly. ‘So who are you?’

‘I’m Tom Pippin. The cook’s son.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Someone was chasing me.’

‘Why?’

He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter. I’m sorry to crash in on you. I didn’t know where I was.’

‘No matter,’ she said.

‘Why do you have a book stuck on your head?’

‘
A lady must always hold her head high
,’ Elanor replied.

‘And why are you strapped up to that thing?’

‘
A lady must not slump
.’

‘Do you want to be strapped up like that?’

‘Not in the least.’

‘Would you like me to unstrap you?’

‘If you would be so kind.’

Tom unstrapped her and took the thick, heavy book off her head, tossing it onto a chair. Elanor rubbed her sore neck.

‘Have you been strapped up for long?’

‘It feels like half the day,’ she answered. ‘Thank you for releasing me.’

‘No problem,’ he replied, looking around the room.

Elanor wondered what he thought of it. By the way his eyes widened with amazement, she guessed he was not used to such a grand room. Hung with velvet curtains the colour of lilacs, her bed was set up on a stage, and was big enough for twenty. Her chair was upholstered in lilac velvet too, and was big enough for five.

The boy’s eyes stopped upon her tea-tray, set on the table near the fireplace. His mouth fell open.

‘Are you hungry?’ she asked.

‘Starving,’ he replied.

‘Would you care to join me for tea?’

‘Would I?’ he cried, then hesitated. ‘What if someone comes in?’ he asked.

‘No-one will,’ she answered. ‘And if they do, you can escape out that secret door again.’ She regarded the doorway with thoughtful eyes, and decided it was best not to mention it to Mistress Mauldred. ‘Would you mind shutting it? For now?’

As Tom shut the secret door, Elanor piled a plate with cucumber and borage sandwiches, tiny scones
with damson plum jam and cream, slivers of cold ham, and a roasted quail leg, encrusted with salt and thyme, then passed the laden plate to Tom.

Tom dropped in his chair, seized his plate, and ate enthusiastically. Fergus sat by his side, his shaggy head level with Tom’s shoulder, and fixed him with imploring eyes. Tom tossed him some ham, which he snatched and swallowed in a single gulp. Elanor filled her own plate, then put the platter of ham down on the floor for Fergus. With a gulp and a guzzle, the wolfhound cleared it in seconds.

‘Manners, Fergus,’ Tom said automatically, then removed his elbows from the table.

Elanor smiled. ‘Eat up,’ she said. ‘I’m very hungry too.’

Tom was puzzling something over. ‘Did you have to sit there, all strapped up to that thing, with your tea sitting right in front of you?’

Elanor nodded. ‘
Ladies must learn self-restraint.
’

‘That’s awful,’ Tom said.

‘
Ladies must learn not to be greedy.
’

‘Who strapped you up like that, and left you to
stare at your tea?’

‘My governess, Mistress Mauldred,’ Elanor answered. ‘A most estimable lady,’ she added, after a moment.

They ate in comfortable silence, Fergus begging from first one, then the other. This made Elanor feel happy. She had always wanted a dog of her own, but Mistress Mauldred said that dogs were too rough, noisy and smelly. It was true the wolfhound was rather malodorous, but he took the food from Elanor’s fingers with great delicacy and, when she ruffled his ears, they were as soft as velvet.

‘I never knew there was a door in my panelling,’ Elanor said, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. ‘I’m not sure if I’m glad or frightened. I mean, it’s nice to know I could go down to the stables and go for a ride without Mistress Mauldred knowing. However, I’m not sure I like knowing someone could creep into my room at any time of day or night.’

‘There was a key in the door. You could lock it from your side and then unlock it anytime you please,’ Tom said.

Elanor smiled. She made a plan there and then to go down and visit her pony that very afternoon. She would go for a ride by the seashore and gallop along the edge of the waves. Mistress Mauldred always said ladies must not trot, or canter, or indeed go any faster than the slowest amble, but Elanor loved to gallop. Her mother had always let her ride as fast as she liked, when she was alive.

A hammering came from the other side of the secret door. Elanor stood up, her throat closing over. Tom dived behind the bed, then reached out a long arm, grabbed Fergus by his ruff, and dragged him into hiding too.

‘Who’s there?’ Elanor quavered.

The secret door swung open, and a very grubby boy with flame-coloured curls tumbled face-first onto her carpet. She recognised him at once. He was Lord Sebastian Byrne, son of one of the country’s most powerful nobles, Lord Aiden of Ashbyrne Castle. Sebastian had come to live at Wolfhaven Castle a few months earlier, as a squire in training to be a knight.

Elanor straightened her back and said as coldly as
she could, ‘Who are you? How dare you invade my private quarters?’ (
Ladies must always command respect
, she had always been told.)

‘My lady!’ Sebastian scrambled to his feet and bowed deeply, almost over-balancing. ‘My apologies. I was pursuing a disorderly knave … I thought he came this way.’

‘You expect to find a knave in my private quarters?’ (
Ladies must be dignified at all times
.)

‘No, no, of course not … it’s just I saw his footsteps in the dust …’

‘You do seem to have been rolling about in a great deal of filth,’ Elanor replied, putting her nose in the air.

The red-head looked down at himself, then tried to brush the dust away. Great clouds rose all about him.

‘I’m sorry,’ he managed to splutter, his tawny-coloured eyes watering. ‘Obviously I was mistaken.’

‘Obviously.’ (
Ladies never disagree with a gentleman
.)

‘I’ll just go … beg pardon, my lady … sorry for all the cobwebs …’ Bowing low again and again, the boy backed out through the secret door. Elanor shut
it after him, locked it, and put the key in her pocket. She felt giddy with excitement.

‘You were great,’ Tom said, crawling out from behind the bed. ‘Did you see how low he bowed? His nose practically scraped the floor.’

Fergus bounded out, tail wagging, sending the dust swirling high again. Both Tom and Elanor sneezed and wheezed.

‘I shall be in terrible trouble when my governess returns,’ Elanor said, when she could catch her breath. ‘Look how grimy my room is!’

‘I’ll help you tidy up. If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s cleaning.’ Tom took up the rug and shook it out the window, banged the cushions together, then mopped the dust off the furniture with his napkin. ‘I’ll take the tray away for you. Then your governess need never know you ate it all.’

‘I can tell her quite truthfully that a servant cleared it away,’ Elanor said.

Tom began to pack up the tray. ‘My lady,’ he began, rather hesitantly, wanting to tell Lady Elanor about the wild man’s warning. ‘I’ve been trying all day
to get a message to your father, but … everyone’s too busy or too … anyway, if I tell it to you, will you let your father know?’

‘Oh, I …’ Elanor hesitated. ‘The Lord of Frostwick Castle is here most unexpectedly, to talk of trade and … and such things. Father will be busy.’ (
Ladies never interrupt their elders
.)

‘I really do think it’s important,’ Tom answered.

Elanor bit her lip, then smiled shyly. ‘I could try, I suppose.’

5

MIDSUMMER FEAST

S
ebastian was bruised all over. In body and in spirit. What would his father say if he knew his son had let a mere pot-boy beat him at mob-ball, knock him down the stairs, and then led him tumbling into a young lady’s chamber?

His father would not be pleased.

Trumpets blew. Sebastian straightened his aching back. The doors were flung open, and Lord Wolfgang and his daughter entered the room. They were both dressed in green, Lady Elanor wearing a silk dress with dangling sleeves embroidered with gold thread to match her golden slippers. The lord had once been a tall man, but now his shoulders stooped, his beard
was more silver than fair, and his face was lined with weariness. Lord Wolfgang had not been the same since his wife had died, Sebastian’s mother said. He spent all his time alone in his study, and hardly seemed to notice he had a daughter who was the spitting image of her mother. Sebastian found that hard to believe. Lord Wolfgang’s wife, Morwenna, had been beautiful, judging by her portrait on the wall. Lady Elanor just seemed skinny and anxious, with hazel eyes that were too big for her face. ‘Father, please listen to me,’ she was saying as they came to their chairs.

‘Now don’t you worry your pretty head about a thing,’ he told her, looking as if his thoughts were elsewhere.

‘Please, Father, if you’d just listen …’

‘Lady Elanor,’ her governess said, ‘how many times must I tell you that ladies simply do not speak unless spoken to? Your father is a busy man; he has no time for your nonsense.’

‘But, Mistress Maul—’

‘Ladies do not begin a sentence with “but”,’ her governess interrupted.

‘I’m sorry, Mistress Mauldred, it is just …’

‘Lady Elanor! Ladies never interrupt. Sit down, back straight, elbows by your side, hands folded in your lap, and do not speak again unless spoken to.’

Lady Elanor’s shoulders slumped.

‘Lady Elanor! Ladies never slouch!’

Lady Elanor sat as straight as if someone had tied a poker to her spine. Sebastian couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.

After the lord and his daughter, came a procession of nobles clad in midsummer finery. Arwen, the Grand Teller, came in, a tall staff in one hand. As always, Arwen was dressed in a simple white robe, her silvery hair waving down her back. Her back was straight, although her skin was like old parchment. Her only ornament was a wooden talisman hung on a thong about her neck. It was carved into an old man’s face, with oak leaves instead of hair.

Behind Arwen walked her apprentice, a thin girl with wild black hair and turquoise-green eyes. Both witch and apprentice were barefoot, with wreaths of golden flowers on their heads and a black-handled
knife hanging from their belts. Sebastian stared at the witch-girl hard. He’d heard that she had been found as a baby in a basket, bobbing up and down on the waves. It did not seem at all respectable.

The witch-girl felt his gaze and scowled at him. Sebastian went red.

After the nobles came the rest of the castle folk, from the chamberlain all the way down to the humblest laundry-maid. They sat at long tables that lined the great hall, with wooden platters and cups instead of silver plates and goblets. Sebastian kept a close eye out for the pot-boy, and saw him come in towards the end, his huge shaggy dog at his heels as always. Sebastian glowered at him, and the pot-boy grinned at him mockingly. Sebastian could only endure it in silence. Sadly, a squire was not permitted to start a fight during a feast.