The Kingdom of Carbonel
Read The Kingdom of Carbonel Online
Authors: Barbara Sleigh
PUFFIN BOOKS
The Kingdom Of
CARBONEL
Barbara Sleigh was born in 1906 in Warwickshire. She took an art teacher's training course, and began to write stories for children for radio. She was a lecturer at Goldsmiths' Teacher Training College, then in 1933 joined the staff of BBC Children's Hour. Three years later she married David Davis, who later became Head of Children's Hour.
The Kingdom of Carbonel
, the second book in the Carbonel trilogy, was first published over forty years ago and today it is still one of the most popular fantasies for younger children.
Barabara Sleigh died in 1982.
Books by Barbara Sleigh
CARBONEL
THE KINGDOM OF CARBONEL
CARBONEL AND CALIDOR
GRIMBLEGRAW AND THE WUTHERING WITCH
NINETY-NINE DRAGONS
CARBONEL
BARBARA SLEIGH
Illustrated by Richard Kennedy
PUFFIN
PUFFIN BOOKS
Published by the Penguin Group
Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London
WC2R 0RL
, England
Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA
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Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London
WC2R 0RL
, England
First published in the USA by Bobbs-Merrill 1960
Published in Puffin Books 1971
Reissued in this edition 2007
1
Text copyright © Barbara Sleigh, 1960
All rights reserved
Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
EISBN
: 978â0â141â90232â6
1
The Green Cave
Rosemary Brown picked a stick of rhubarb from the end of the garden, and taking care not to spill the sugar in the saucer she was carrying, bent herself double and crept between the currant bushes. Then she sat down in the green cave made by the unpruned branches which met over her head. The ground was covered with coarse grass, and it made a very comfortable secret place.
She dipped the rhubarb into the saucer and bit off the sweetened end with a crunch. In spite of the sugar, it was so sour that it made her nose wrinkle, so she licked the end of her finger, pressed it in the saucer and finished the sugar that way instead. When it was all gone, she lay flat on her back with her hands under her head and stared up at the summer sky which showed through the shifting chinks between the leaves.
There was half an hour before she would need to get ready to meet her friend John at the station,
and the whole summer lay ahead. It was nearly a year since she had seen him, but what a full year it had been! First of all there had been moving. Life was very pleasant now that she and her mother lived in the top flat at 101 Cranshaw Road, instead of in uncomfortable furnished rooms. Then there had been the fun of playing in the big, pleasantly neglected garden. Lessons, too, had gone so much better. She had worked very hard and, as a result, had won a scholarship and next term was going to the high school. Being between two schools gave her a pleasantly suspended feeling, like treading water.
Rosemary gently prodded a ladybird which had been walking over the gingham mountain of her chest. She wanted it to climb on to her finger.
âI hope it will be as much fun playing with John this holiday as it was last summer,' she said aloud to the little creature. After being headed off twice, it had obligingly clambered on to her fingernail.
âWe had some glorious games,' she went on thoughtfully. âOf course we had the garden at Tussocks to play in then.' Tussocks was the grand home of John's aunt who lived outside the town. âBut it's a funny thing, Ladybird, I can't remember what it was that was such fun when John came to play with me! It was something to do with a black cat. He was called Carbonel. And then there was
an old woman whose name was Mrs Cantrip. I think,' she added slowly, âshe was a witch, and there was magic. Or did I dream that part?'
Rosemary frowned. She had a vague idea that magic and high school girls did not go together, so she shook her head in a puzzled way. âI'm sure there was something else.'
The ladybird was now plodding laboriously up the slope of her finger. When it reached the back of her hand, it sat quite still for a moment in one of the little dapples of sunlight that filtered through the leaves, then, without any warning, spread its spotted wings and flew away.
âOf course! Flying!' said Rosemary, sitting up suddenly. âThat's what we did, and on a broomstick! Now I wonder if â'
But she never said what she wondered, for sitting at her feet, quite motionless, with his eyes closed as though he was waiting for something, was the most magnificent black cat she had ever seen. The golden flecks of sunshine gleamed on his glossy coat and the magnificent span of his whiskers. He opened his great yellow eyes as Rosemary sat up, but he did not move.
âWhy,' said Rosemary, âI was just that minute thinking of a black cat I knew once⦠or I think I did⦠or perhaps I dreamed aboutâ¦' She tailed off lamely. The feeling that the creature had
been sitting there for some time without her knowledge, combined with his unwinking golden stare, made her feel a little uncomfortable.
âAnyway,' she went on, âyou are almost as beautiful as the cat in my dream, and he was a royal cat, so you need not be offended,' she added hurriedly, almost to herself.
The animal had lifted its head in a disdainful way.
âMay I stroke you?' she asked a little shyly, putting out her hand. But before she could touch him she heard her mother calling from the house.
âRosie! Time to get ready, dear!'
Rosemary turned to the sound of her mother's voice. When she looked back again, the black cat had disappeared.
âRosie!' called her mother faintly, but more urgently this time.
Rosemary crawled out on hands and knees, but she did not answer her mother until she reached the lawn, because she wanted to keep the Green Cave a secret.
âComing, Mummy!' she called.
She looked back as she reached the house, and she was just in time to see a black cat leap up on to the garden wall, trot along the top and disappear behind the tool shed.
John's train was late. When it came in at last and hissed itself to a standstill, the doors burst open and people poured out in every direction. Rosemary and her mother looked anxiously up and down the busy platform, but they could not see him.
âThat looks like John over there,' said Rosemary, âbut it couldn't be â he's too tall!'
But the boy came up to them, grinned and said, âHow are you, Mrs Brown? Hello, Rosie!'
He refused any help with his suitcase and walked to the gate with Mrs Brown. The two of them talked together about the journey, about John's
father and mother and about how hot it was. Rosemary followed, carrying John's raincoat. Studying his back as she walked behind, she realized that she had to look up to the tuft of hair that still stood up at the back of his head. Last summer it had been level with the top of her own fair hair. He was talking to her mother in a rather grown-up way. Rosemary's heart sank.
âWell, at least his hair
does
still stick up,' she thought to herself. âThat's something, I suppose. He's come for three whole weeks, and if he's gone all grown-up since last year, whatever shall we do all the time?'
They had tea as soon as they reached home. It was a special tea, with watercress, strawberry jam and brandy snaps which Rosemary had made herself. A lot of them had broken, but she had thought it did not matter, because she and John could eat the bits afterward in the Green Cave. Now, she did not feel sure that John was the sort of person who would enjoy the Green Cave at all.
It was a quiet meal, with Mrs Brown making most of the conversation. Afterward, John politely offered to help wash up.
