The Palace Library (8 page)

“Do you think he is a real
dwarf?” whispered Grace to Eleanor.

“Yes,”
the short man shouted at them as they quivered under the thatched overhang at
the forge.  Rain was now dripping off them since a sudden storm and squall
had soaked them all as they walked through the village.  “He’s a real
dwarf with very, very sharp hearing.”

They
looked at him - not up at him, which made a change for children of their age
when speaking to an adult - and the smiles on their faces turned to fear. 
Then Eleanor realised that they were probably just being rude by whispering, so
she said “We’re sorry for whispering.  Mummy says we shouldn’t.  I’m
Eleanor.  This is my brother Harry and our cousin Grace.”

“Well
how do you do then, Eleanor and Grace.”  He still looked very
bad-tempered.  He was not much taller than Harry, but about three times as
wide, with a chaotic red beard and a mad mop of red hair.  A heavy leather
apron was wrapped round him from his neck to his feet. Great chunks of his
beard seemed to be
singed
and missing, the effect of
burns.

“Well
you are very small to be the solution to this kingdom’s problems.”  Then
he let out a hollow laugh and the girls were not quite sure to make of
it.  They were not sure if it was a joke or if he was being serious.

Master
John stepped in under the thatch, nearly bending double, and thrust his hand
out to shake the dwarf’s. “I am Master John of the Royal Hunt.  I assume
you are Master Edwin of Axmouth, the blacksmith and armourer?”

“I
am,” was the reply.  “But how should I know you are who you say you are,”
he added.

“You
have heard of the Prophecy?” asked Master John.

“I
have.”

“Then
these are the three children.”

“Well
they don’t look up to much,” carried on the blacksmith.  “Three healthy
children for sure, but how do we know they are not impostors?”

This
was almost too much for Master John, and bending nearly double he looked the
dwarf in the eye.  He used a tone the children had not heard before, “I
know, as our Queen put them into my charge.”

The
dwarf looked him straight back in the eye and said, “But I was not there.”

At
that moment, Harry realised he had the solution to this problem, and he pulled
at the chain around his neck.

“Here
is the Queen’s signet ring, Sir.  It is her token and our authority to be
here.”

Edwin
looked at the signet ring and looked almost disappointed that they were not
traitors for him to dispose of as he wished.  “Well you seem to be what
you say you are.  You’d better come in.”

The
inside of the forge was much bigger than the overhanging eaves they had crowded
under outside.  It was a huge room, with a furnace at one end, surrounded
by all the blacksmith’s tools.  There were great iron hammers and tongs
hanging on beams above.  At the other end, nearest the door, was a more
traditional hearth and fireplace, with a pot hanging over the fire and some
sort of soup bubbling away in it.  A half-open door at the back led to a
cramped room to sleep in. 

“Welcome
to my home.  This is my wife, Anwen.”  The words were a little
grudging, but at least they were welcomed inside.  As if to put a stop to
his initial impression of grumpiness, the dwarf said, “We are proud of our home
and workshop.  It is the only stone house in the village, the only stone
building until the church was put up some years ago.  And it’s warm enough
with the furnace and the fire both going.  Anwen will look after you.”

At
that, Edwin drew up a chair away from the kitchen hearth and started rocking it
back and forth, watching what was going on.

Anwen
gently welcomed them and took their wet cloaks from them.  “He’ll have
your interests at heart now he knows who you are, but he will be grumpy.”

“Humph!”
came a grunt from the chair. 

Anwen
looked small standing next to Master John, but huge when she was next to her
husband.  She smiled, revealing several missing teeth, but just added,
“Who’s hungry?”

“Me,”
shouted Harry, adding ‘please’ for good measure.  And the girls realised
they were too.

Just
then, before they had time to react, Edwin leapt up from his chair.  He
pulled the dagger from Eleanor’s scabbard where it hung round her waist. It had
been revealed after her long cloak had been taken off.  He held it up to
the light and then towards her, shaking angrily.  “Where did you get this
dagger?  I’d know it anywhere.  I made it for Queen Eleanor herself
only three years ago.”  He looked at the blade carefully and almost spoke
to himself.  “It is worn more than it should have been, but it is the
one.”

Then
turning to his wife, Edwin added, “Look at the blade, Anwen. It glows green, as
well it might in the presence of danger or traitors.  It is definitely the
one.”  Turning to Eleanor again, he said, “Where did you get this blade?”

Now
Eleanor may have been frightened, but she did have enough presence of mind not
to give away anything about The Palace Library to a stranger.  Just at
that moment, she wondered whether Edwin might be a traitor himself.  She
was just working out what to say, when Master John stepped before him and
gently said, “You’ve seen the Queen’s signet ring. This is clearly a gift from
the Queen as well.  It’s not our place to question her, or these children
from the Prophecy.”

“Master
John is right, husband,” added Anwen.  “Be calm and accept we are in the
companionship of those we expected to see for this journey.  Your task is
a burdensome one, to re-forge the Great Sword of State and renew Ascalon. 
Be helpful to these three who have far less experience, but must help you.”

The
dwarf looked round and then relaxed.  “You’re right as ever, Anwen.” 
He turned the dagger and returned it to Eleanor.  “Bring me one of your
comforting infusions of herbs and rid me of this temper of mine.  Then we’ll
plan our journey together over supper.”

Anwen
ground up some dried herbs from the side with a pestle and infused them in
boiling water before passing Edwin a plain earthenware cup.  He drank
deeply from it and seemed to physically relax back into his chair.  Then
he sat up again, and in a completely different tone he turned to Eleanor, “I am
sorry,” he said.

Eleanor
had been watching this all intently - the mixing of the herbs and the effect it
had on Edwin.  “That’s OK,” she said sweetly.  The she turned to
Anwen and said, “Are you a healer then?”

“Some
people say so, but I am no magician.  I just understand plants and how to
use them.”

“I
have a book of plants.  Can I show it to you?”

“A
book?” replied Anwen.  “That’s a rare thing and I wouldn’t know how to
read it.”

“It
has pictures!” said Eleanor.

Master
John interrupted with admiration, “All these children are rare things. 
They all have books.  They can all read words, and doubtless write them
too.  If your magic is plants, Master Edwin’s is with the forge and mine
is with hounds, then each of these children has a gift within themselves and
their books.”

“Well,
we’ll see it soon enough,” said Edwin, quite cheerfully now, and taking charge
within his own house.  “First let’s eat.  Then we’ll have a council
and make our plans.  Then you can read your books. The King’s ship awaits
us all and will leave on the high tide tomorrow afternoon.  We have until
then to plan.”

So
they ate a delicious stew - wild boar - and even though the forge was really a
tiny building, they all marvelled at the space they had after living in the
cramped carriage for two days.  Then Anwen gave them a hot drink and said,
“This will keep us alert while we talk tonight, and then afterwards we will all
sleep well.  It may be your last night on dry land for some time.”

Harry
then asked, “Where are we going?  It seems we must go by sea, but do you
know where we’re going?”

“Humph!”
muttered Edwin, settling back into his grumpy ways, before being sharply pulled
up by a look from Anwen.

“I
hoped you could tell us that,” Edwin added.  “First however, I’ll remind
you why we’re going.  I have to forge a new Sword of State since traitors
near the King’s person have destroyed the other.  This must not be forged
here in my workshop, but in the heat of the volcano, where dragons live. 
The heat is needed to pass on the power of Ascalon.”

“Who
is Ascalon?” asked Grace, simply.  She thought it was time someone asked
as they had heard the name several times and it was in the Prophecy.  It
was time they all stopped pretending they knew.

“It
is not who, young Grace, but what!” replied Edwin.  “Ascalon was the lance
that St George used in his famous battle with the dragon.”

“You’d
better tell us the story then Edwin,” said Anwen.  So Edwin took another
sip at his drink and told the story.

“There
are many versions of the tale told, but few will know the truth as well as I
do.”  The children looked at Edwin with interest.  Sitting at the
table, his height made no difference, and his presence was powerful.

“Many
centuries ago, George was a powerful merchant and warrior.  Dragons were
even then rare in England.  He lived in a part of the kingdom where there was
one powerful dragon that had a hold over the villages and towns all
around.  They were forced to sacrifice sheep to the dragon and when the
sheep no longer satisfied the dragon’s hunger, for there were not enough, they
drew lots to sacrifice their daughters. 

“George
was passing through and had fallen in love with one of daughters in the village
- the daughter of the Lord of the Manor - and swore that he would save the
villagers.  He told them they must not sacrifice any more sheep or
children to the dragon, for it was not God’s wish.  He would challenge the
dragon.  They locked up the towns and the villages to keep everyone safe
and George went out in search of the dragon with his armour and his finery.

“What
most stories will tell you is that he then destroyed the dragon but in fact he
could not.  He fought and fought, but he was losing, so he withdrew. 
He was full of doubt and fear.  So he went down to the river and prayed.”

“Did
that help?” asked Grace a little doubtfully.

“Of
course!” smiled Edwin. “For he found a dwarf who was a blacksmith!  Hah!
Now everyone knows dwarves are the best blacksmiths and armourers, but that
does not mean everyone likes us. This blacksmith lived by the river, as even
then people were frightened of dwarves and we were not welcome to live within
the villages or towns, which you will remember were all locked up. 

“That
dwarf was called Edwin,” said Edwin with some pride.

“Was
that you?” asked Grace simply, since she alone with the other two children was
now used to the idea of Edgar the Librarian being nearly 1,000 years old.

“No,
of course not,” said Edwin, brushing off the comment.  “I said it was
centuries ago.  But he was my direct ancestor.”

“George
regained some of his confidence from resting and praying by the river, but he
realised he needed to put away his fears and his doubts.  The dwarf
offered him new armour, but George said any armour would be too heavy and too
hot when the dragon threw out flames from his mouth.

“Instead,
George asked the dwarf to melt down his armour and make a box out of it. 
The dwarf was a bit surprised at this, but he was persuaded and so the box was
made.  George then said he would put all his fears into the box, along
with all his doubts and his lack of faith.  Then he would face the dragon
again and conquer him.

“Now
the dwarf tried to persuade him otherwise, but George would not listen. 
In the end though, the dwarf persuaded him to carry a lance - a lance that had
been forged for a great king in the past at the foot of a volcano and with all
the magic that imparts. That lance was called Ascalon.”

“Then
George went out and conquered the dragon.  Thereafter he married the Lord
of the Manor’s daughter and led a simple life of faith with her. 

“The
dragon wasn’t conquered simply by the lance, but by George’s faith and
confidence.  The dragon wasn’t killed.  In spite of all the evil it
had committed, it was given mercy - in return for all dragons being banished
from England forever.  So now there are no dragons in England at
all.  Instead they were sent to the edge of Hell, never to be seen by
man
again.  They were imprisoned forever by the faith
of St George and also by their greed, as they took their stolen treasure with
them, since, as everyone knows, dragons are great hoarders.  Keeping that,
it seemed worthwhile to forego eating the sheep and the daughters of England,
even though such abstinence makes the dragons hungry and angry.

“While
England is protected by the Sword of State and the power of Ascalon and the
faith of St George, its freedoms are protected and the dragons cannot return.”

“So”,
said Harry, beginning to understand some of the Prophecy a little more, but
wishing he didn’t.  “We have to travel by sea as the dragons aren’t in
England.  And we must go to the edge of Hell.  To Hell’s Bay.”