Temptations of Pleasure Island (17 page)

W
hen Sylvan heard Lady Maeve scream, “Hang them!” he nodded and shouted back, “They are dead!” As quickly as he could, he started toward the Seven Sleepers.

And then he saw that another figure was standing in front of them. Sylvan stared at the man in shock.

“Get out of the way, Mark,” he growled, “unless you want to die, too!”

“You’re not hanging anyone, Sylvan,” Mark Fletcher said, and his face was deadly serious. “I’ve never wanted to hurt anyone, but you’re not touching these youngsters.”

“You’ve lived too long,” Sylvan roared.

Sylvan himself had once wrestled. Without hesitating, he rushed at the youth. He launched a blow that would have stunned the young man so that his neck could be broken—if the blow had reached him.

But Mark Fletcher ducked, reached down swiftly, and seized Sylvan’s leg. He twisted and lifted, and the con man rose in the air. He turned a complete somersault and landed on his back.

Sylvan leaped to his feet and snarled, “I’ll kill you for that!”

Mark Fletcher waited, and the crowd waited, also. The arena was totally still.

Sylvan threw himself at Mark. His long arms went around the young wrestler, and he began bending him
backward. Mark reached around Sylvan and joined his own hands, and the two struggled.

Although he had never been a professional wrestler, Sylvan was incredibly strong. It was a struggle of Titans. He laughed wildly. “You’re a dead man! I’ll break your back!” He applied all his force, expecting the younger, smaller man to bend. To his shock he discovered that Mark Fletcher’s body was like steel. Instead, the young wrestler’s arms closed about him more tightly, and he was slowly bent backward himself. Sylvan struggled manfully and cried out. But only by a mighty wrench did he free himself.

He snatched a knife from his belt then, and the crowd screamed, “No fair! Bare hands! Bare hands!” But Sylvan paid them no heed.

His young opponent let Sylvan circle him warily. Then, when Sylvan drove forward, Mark Fletcher simply reached out, grabbed his wrist, and flipped the master of the royal lottery so that the knife fell to the ground.

“Leave, Sylvan, and save your life!” Mark cried out.

Stunned by the young man’s strength and now defenseless, Sylvan turned and ran toward one of the exits.

As Sylvan fled, Lady Maeve rushed into the arena. “Hang those Sleepers!” she screamed at the guards.

“But, my lady,” one protested, “the king has commanded that the executions be stopped.”

Maeve whipped out a dagger. “I will personally slash your throat if you do not hang them! And the prince as well!”

The officer appeared shaken. He directed the other guards to seize and hang the Seven Sleepers.

Up in the royal box, Queen Tamsin cried, “Leo, they’ll all be killed!”

The king was on his feet. He could hardly believe what was happening. “Save them!” he shouted. “Stop the executions! Somebody stop the executions!”

At his father’s cry, Prince Derek looked up from the arena. “Do you want to see what your people are really like, Father?” Without waiting for an answer, he raised his fist and shouted to the stands, “Now, loyal subjects, protect your prince and the Seven Sleepers!”

Instantly the king of Pleasure Island was shocked to see men pouring out of the lower level of the arena. They came from every direction, and all appeared to be armed. Many carried bows, and these knelt in front of the king’s son and the Sleepers to form a line of archers. To the rear were swordsmen, and on the flanks were spearmen.

“These are your loyal subjects, Father!” the prince called up to him.

Challenged by so many armed citizens, the guards withdrew. Derek was safe, and the captive Sleepers were free.

At that point Lady Maeve knew that all was lost. White-faced, she started toward the king’s exit from the arena.

From behind her, Prince Derek cried out, “Guards, seize Lady Maeve!”

Maeve knew she had to get away quickly. She ran, pursued by Prince Derek’s loyal guards. She had gotten only halfway to the exit when she let out a terrifying
scream. She felt as if she had been placed in the grip of some giant invisible fist and was being squeezed to death. She squirmed, shrieking, “No, my lord, I have done my best!” Then she crumpled to the ground.

Stunned silence fell over the arena. The king left the royal box. He ran down into the arena and threw out his arms. “My son!” he said.

The two men met, and the king was weeping.

“I’ve been wrong! I’ve been blind! Whatever has happened to me?”

“You will be all right in time, Father.”

King Leo straightened. He looked his son in the eye, and then he turned to the stands. He saw his wife smiling down at him, and he knew that he was about to do the right thing. He raised his hand and cried out in a loud voice, “I am no longer able to be your king! This is your king!” He reached back and drew Prince Derek forward. Now he held the prince’s hand high in the air. “Long live the new king!” he shouted.

And the arena echoed with the cries of the people. “Long live the king! Long live King Derek!”

The Sleepers remained clustered in a small group. All were silent until Jake said, “Well, I didn’t see Goél here anywhere, but somehow I have the idea he was behind all this.”

“Long live the king,” Josh said. “And Derek will be a good one.”

The ship heeled over as its white sail caught the breeze. The water was green, almost emerald, and white clouds were undulating overhead, filling the blue sky with their bulk.

“This is sure the life,” Reb said contentedly. He stood beside the jib sheet, holding onto one of the lines.

All the Sleepers were up in the bow, enjoying the warm sunshine and the breeze. It had been two weeks since the showdown in the arena, and they had sailed from Pleasure Island that morning. They had waited just long enough for the coronation of Derek, even though all had begged them to stay longer.

“Life will be different on Pleasure Island now,” the new king had pleaded. “We need your help.”

But Josh told him, “We must go. Goél always has other tasks for the Seven Sleepers to do.”

As Josh glanced back in the direction of the island, now fading from view, he said idly, “You know what, Sarah?”

“What?” Sarah asked sleepily. She was sitting beside him, her back to the mast, and braiding her hair. The sun caught the blackness of it, and he said suddenly, “You have the prettiest black hair in the world!”

“Why, Josh, you never said that before!”

“Well, I’m not good at saying things like that.”

“Why don’t you write a poem about it?” she teased.

“Maybe I will.”

“What were you going to say before you fell into raptures over my beautiful black hair?”

Josh gave a laugh. “I was thinking how glad I am to get away from Pleasure Island.”

“So was I,” Sarah said. “Life with nothing but pleasure sounds so good. But look at all the problems people brought on themselves when they tried to live that way.”

“I know. And I’d like to do something easy now.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, like fighting a T-rex or capturing a saber-toothed tiger alive. Something like that.”

Sarah smiled and nodded. “I understand what you mean. Pleasure Island has been anything but a pleasure.”

“I guess we’ve all learned that having fun shouldn’t be the most important thing in the world.” Then he looked a little anxious. “But we’re not going to give up fun entirely, are we?”

“Indeed not. In fact, I’ll race you up to the mainsail. The loser has to wash dishes after supper tonight.”

Josh and Sarah ran to the mainmast and began climbing the shrouds. When they got to the top, they were swayed from side to side as the ship cut her way through the water. Both looked back then, just as the island disappeared into the mist.

Sarah sighed. “And now that Pleasure Island is out of the way,” she said, “we can get on with other things. What do you suppose Goél has in mind for us next?”