Fair Wind to Widdershins (11 page)

There were more cheers from below.

He was aware of thick layers of bird poo under his feet, sticky and squishy in the heat of the day and very smelly. Yuck! he thought. That’s all I needed.

He could see quite a distance from this vantage point—across the ruination of the West Ward to where towers and turrets and steeples rose into the sky and windows shone like silver in the sun.

A rusty iron rail emerged from the darkness of the ivy on one side of the tower. It ran the length of the ledge and then curved back into the hidden stonework. How odd. He wondered what it was there for. Leaning back a little, he looked up at the huge clockface behind its veil of knotted ivy. He felt dwarfed by the round white disk—even the numerals that ringed its circumference were taller than he was.

Now what? he thought to himself.

Aha! Just above the numeral VI, he saw a dark keyhole set into the clockface.

That’s it! That’s where the key goes!

He assumed that there must be some small hatchway close by, through which, in ancient times, the Winder of the Clock would emerge to do his duty and to keep the clock ticking. But the clock was quite silent now, the hands tangled in ivy tendrils, the ironwork cloaked in a layer of thick red rust.

Gripping the key between his teeth, Trundle climbed up the VI. The numerals had plenty of scrollwork on them, and it wasn’t too difficult to get to the top. Hanging on with one paw, Trundle took the key from between his teeth and tried to insert it in the hole.

At first it wouldn’t go in. But he shoved and wriggled and pushed and poked, and finally the key slotted into place. He paused, gasping for breath, his muscles aching from the effort.

“Try turning the key!” he heard Esmeralda shout up.

“Great idea, Esmeralda,” he called down with heavy sarcasm. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Sorry. Just trying to be helpful.”

Catching his breath, Trundle gripped the key and twisted. It refused to turn. He gritted his teeth and tried again, using all of his strength. Very gradually, and with a terrible grating noise, the key turned. A moment later, he heard machinery grinding into motion within the tower.

Grrrrrnnngggg. Krrrrkkkk. Screeeeeeeeech. Claaaaaaaannnkkk
.

The noise was deafening, and as the workings of the huge clock slowly clanked into action, the whole tower began to shake and shudder. Trundle slipped off the top of the VI and slid down onto the ledge with a bump, clutching frantically at the ivy and almost tumbling off as the crumbling stonework shivered and quivered all around him. Chunks of masonry went crashing downward. Esmeralda and Jack and Percy had to leap away from the foot of the tower to avoid being brained by the falling debris.

And then from deep inside the tower came the clanging and clonging and dinging and donging of bells and gongs, rattling Trundle’s brains until he thought his head would surely explode!

And as if that wasn’t terrifying enough, he suddenly found himself in the middle of a great swarming mass of flapping black wings as entire flocks of ravens came pouring out of every hole in the top of the tower, croaking and screaming and battering him as they fled the noise.

He ducked and dodged the birds as they hurtled past him, but above the horrible din of the chiming clock, he could have sworn he heard a spiteful croak close to his ear.

“You’ll be sorry!” it rasped. “You’ll get yours, matey! Just you see!”

And then, while Trundle was still recovering from all the shocks that had hit him so far, the clock began to strike.

Gloiiiing!

Gloiiiiing!

GLOOOOIIIINNNGG!

And at that moment, he saw the ivy being pushed outward as hidden doors opened on either side of the clockface and a procession of huge, rusty old iron statues began to emerge. Trundle gave a yelp as the figures approached him. That explained the iron rail! It was for these huge statues to run along.

The statues were of badgers dressed in full armor. As they rumbled toward him, their bodies began to move mechanically, twisting and turning, swinging swords and axes, beating at one another as though in some slow-motion battle.

Their joints screeched and crunched as they came closer to where Trundle was standing. He had no time to climb out of the way. Taking a deep breath, he flung himself at the first of the badger knights and threw both arms around the great rusty leg.

But even as he hung there, something caught his eye.

The leading figure had a crown around its helmet.

An iron crown.

It wasn’t a knight at all—it was a king!

“Oh, good heavens!” he gasped. “I’ve found the Iron Crown!”

A new sense of excitement took over, and he clambered up the badger king’s body until he was perched on the high shoulders. He reached for the crown, noticing that it was the only part of the massive figure that was not coated in rust.

He wrestled it free of the king’s head.

“Look!” he shouted down, waving the crown. “I have it! I have it!”

But then the badger king rotated on his axis, his upper body clanking forward as if bowing, and suddenly Trundle found himself hanging upside down, his feet clinging around the king’s neck and the crown dangling from his fingers.

A
horrible vision flashed in front of Trundle’s eyes as he swung upside down from the badger king’s neck. He saw himself being carried into the dark and noisy workings of the clock. He saw himself caught up in the cogwheels and levers and hammers. He saw himself being mashed to a pulp and spat out as hedgehog meatballs!

But a moment later, the whole promenade of iron knights came to a juddering, screeching halt. The mechanism had jammed. The badger king jerked and shuddered, almost shaking Trundle loose.

Esmeralda’s frantic voice came up to him. “Throw down the crown!” she hollered. “Free your hands!”

He twisted his head and saw the three of them down there, waving and yelling. “A-a-all ri-i-ight. Ma-a-ake sure you ca-a-a-atch it!” he called down, his voice shaken to pieces by the jarring vibrations of the iron king.

“I will!” hollered Esmeralda.

Trundle let go of the crown. Esmeralda stood beneath it, her arms stretched up. But at the last second she dived to one side. The crown struck the paving stones with a mighty
cloiiiing
and went bouncing across the courtyard.

Trundle was appalled! He was convinced that he saw something break off the crown as it bowled through the tall grass and weeds with Jack in close pursuit. What was Esmeralda thinking? Why hadn’t she caught it?

He was so annoyed with her that he swung down from the iron king’s neck, clambered down his body, and made a swift descent of the ivy-clad tower without once thinking of how dangerous it was.

“You loon!” he shouted at Esmeralda. “Why did you jump out of the way?”

“The sun got in my eyes!” retorted Esmeralda. “I couldn’t see properly! You should have waited till I was ready!”

Trundle stared at her. “I should have hung there by my toes till you were
ready
?” he exclaimed. “Are you out of your mind?”

“Not too much harm done,” called Jack, running toward them with the slightly dented crown in one hand and something circular in the other.

Trundle looked at the round object. It was the orb, broken off the top of the crown.

“May I see it?” asked Percy. Jack handed him the crown and the orb. Percy held the metal ball up to the light and turned it slowly in his fingers.

“Interesting,” he said. “Very interesting.” He showed it to the three friends. “Do you see? It has a line running around it. I think it’s made from two separate pieces.” He shook it gently. “I think I can hear something moving inside.”

“Open it!” cried Esmeralda.

“I’ll try,” said Percy. “But it might be wise to move away from the tower—if only for the sake of our ears!”

He had a point. Even down here, the noise was earsplitting, and the grating of the trapped mechanism was so violent that Trundle half feared it would shake the entire tower to pieces.

They moved away. Percy handed Esmeralda the crown and took the iron orb in both hands. He gave a sharp twist. There was a squeak of metal rubbing on metal, and the two halves of the orb fell apart.

“Ooooh!” breathed Esmeralda, staring into the two hollow shells of the orb. “What’s that?”

One of the hemispheres had something wound up inside it. Something red.

Very carefully Esmeralda picked the thing out. It immediately uncoiled and revealed itself to be a very long, bright red feather.

“Oh!” she gasped, bringing her other hand up to hold the stem of the feather. “It’s trying to get away!”

Trundle could see what she meant. The tip of the long feather was straining away from her, as though it wanted to pull itself free.

“Why is it doing that?” Trundle asked.

Jack was hopping excitedly from foot to foot. “I know what it is!” he cried. “Oh my gosh and golly! I never thought I’d ever see the like! It’s as beautiful as it says in the songs!”

“What songs?” asked Esmeralda, struggling with the maverick feather. “What is it?”

“It’s a phoenix feather!” exclaimed Jack. “Haven’t you ever heard the songs?” And so saying, he began to sing.

O glorious and majestic bird

In a golden nest at the end of the world!

Most beautiful and wise and kind—

Blessed is he who can the phoenix find.

A feather red he left at rest

When away he flew to build his nest.

If secrets you seek, take the feather to the bird.

Ask the phoenix wise and hear his word.

You must sail away for a year and a day

Into lonely lands where no beast does stray—

Before he bursts into splendid fire,

The lovely phoenix will grant your desire.

“It’s a very old song indeed,” Jack explained. “Hundreds of years old! But I never thought it was a true story.”