The Starkin Crown (16 page)

As the sun was coming up, Peregrine, Jack and Grizelda stopped in a small glade with running water so the thirsty horses could drink their fill. The snow was only thin on the ground, so they would be able to forage easily. This was a relief, since the horses had been ridden hard for days with only what meagre grass they could find and a double handful of oats each day. Already the panniers were almost empty.

Swartburg Castle could still be seen in the distance, rosy in the dawn light. Peregrine sat on his horse and stared at it, wondering where his family was, what was happening to them now. Were they in a dungeon somewhere? Were they hurt? The mild weather made him ill with fear. Surely his mother would be raging mad, and the weather with her?

Jack lifted Grizelda down from his horse and ungagged her. ‘No point screaming, there's no-one for miles,' he warned her. ‘And if you do scream I'll just gag you again'.

She stomped away from him, going to the stream and falling down on her knees to drink the icy water. She washed her face and hands, and then, keeping her back to the boys, snapped her fingers to Oskar. He came immediately, ears pricked, and she rotated one finger. At once he cocked his leg against a tree and released a stream of yellow urine.

Peregrine watched him, silent and morose. He did not answer when Jack spoke to him and did not eat when Jack put a piece of flatbread with pheasant stuffed inside it into his hand.

‘What's wrong, sir?' Jack asked anxiously. ‘Are you not well?'

‘If I'm not mistaken this is the Swartwood Forest,' Peregrine said abruptly.

‘Yes, it is,' Grizelda said. ‘Why? What's wrong with that?'

‘My mother's parents were murdered in this forest,'
Peregrine replied. ‘They were led here by a man, a hunter, who told them he had heard stories of an ancient spear being found in the woods. He stole all their supplies and left them with only a loaf of bread. It was poisoned'.

There was a long silence.

‘My grandmother survived just long enough to make it back to Stormlinn Castle. She ate only a slice. My mother wouldn't touch it, it was too hard and bitter. And so she survived. She was only a little girl'.

Again nobody spoke.

‘Our hunter follows us still,' Peregrine said. ‘I can sense him out there. He's baffled. He doesn't understand where we are headed. Yet somehow he manages to follow us'.

‘We've tried not to leave a trail but it's hard. The snow is melting and the horses' hooves sink into the mud'. Jack spoke defensively.

Peregrine pressed his fingers against his eyes. ‘Grizelda, tell me about the dogs'.

‘I beg your pardon?'

‘Those dogs the hunter has. Your family is famous for breeding dogs, you must know something about them'.

Grizelda answered reluctantly. ‘Well, I suppose if you know that much about my family, you will know about our sleuth hounds. They're used for tracking game'.

‘Game like us? Human game?'

‘Sometimes'.

‘They can track our scent?'

‘They are bred for their noses,' she replied coolly.

Jack's eyes moved from face to face as he began to realise what Peregrine meant. ‘You mean, those dogs belong to your brother! They've been tracking our scent all the way? But …
it was snowing … the wind was howling …' His voice was sharp with indignation.

‘Sleuth hounds were bred to track over snow,' Peregrine said. ‘Whoever thought all those geography lessons would prove useful? I remember reading that they can track a scent that is a week old. Only they need to know the scent to track it'.

Jack stared at him, then looked accusingly at Grizelda. She stared back at them, wide-eyed. ‘You think
I
…'

Peregrine nodded. ‘I do. You may not have known it, though. I guess the hunter only needed a piece of your clothing—'

‘And my bet is she has lots to choose from!' Jack said.

‘And maybe the hunter wouldn't even need that. Grizelda's dog has marked our path every step of the way'. All three looked at the yellow stain in the snow under the tree. Peregrine went on, ‘Remember how she told the dog to piddle when we got out of the secret passage? Even though she was blindfolded and gagged?'

‘She wiggled her finger,' Jack said.

‘Oskar had not been allowed to relieve himself for hours,' Grizelda said furiously. ‘It would have been cruel not to give him permission'.

‘He piddled against the door to the secret passage,' Peregrine said. ‘And now I'm terribly afraid that is how the castle was taken. The secret entrance discovered and tunnelled through, my family attacked as they slept'.

‘No,' Grizelda cried. ‘I swear—'

‘If I find out that was how the castle fell …' Peregrine could not speak for the bitter rage that filled him.

Grizelda flung herself on her knees before him, grasping at his hand. ‘Robin, I swear it's not true. I haven't betrayed you.
I'm sorry, I never thought that allowing Oskar to pee would endanger your family. I'm sure it has nothing to do with it!'

Peregrine frowned down at her, then looked questioningly at Jack. His squire shrugged.

‘I know you are angry and upset, but you must believe me, I had nothing to do with the attack on your parents. I risked my life to warn you!' Grizelda's voice rang with sincerity.

Peregrine stood up abruptly. ‘Let's ride on. I feel we don't have much time left to us'.

‘But don't you believe me?' she begged.

‘I don't know what to believe,' he answered wearily.

They rode on through the forest, following the long green tunnel that was all that was left of the old road. It led them down, down, down, through the slanting lines of sunlight that flickered over Peregrine's face. Flicker, flicker, flicker. He felt his head jerk forward, a spasm in his throat. He could not breathe. He cried out involuntarily, and then the world spun. He fell.

Dizzy, winded, he lay on the ground. Sable's velvet-soft nose nudged him questioningly. He heard Jack's boots hit the ground and run towards him.

‘What kind of prince is he, if all he can do is fall off his horse?' Grizelda cried angrily.

Jack knelt beside him, cradling his head. ‘The best of all princes! The kindest, the bravest …' He bent over Peregrine. ‘It's all right, sir. You're just tired. You haven't eaten. Didn't I promise the king you'd eat? And I should've made sure you had your harness on. Are you hurt? Where does it hurt? Come on, let's make camp. You need to rest and have your medicine'.

Peregrine closed his eyes and did not answer.

A
S SOON AS IT WAS DUSK
, J
ACK WOKE
P
EREGRINE AND
Grizelda so that they could ride on.

Peregrine refused to wear the harness, no matter how much Jack begged him. ‘I will not fall again,' he said through his teeth. Jack could do nothing but hope he was right.

They trotted as fast as they dared through the forest, following the faint glimmer of the river under a night of bright stars. His prince had said, with a wry smile, that the river would lead them straight to the marshes of Ardian.

‘To think that I complained at being made to learn the course of every river in Ziva,' Peregrine said. ‘If I could, I'd shake Sir Medwin by the hand and thank him from the bottom of my heart'. The words made him feel terrible sorrow, remembering the way his tutor and all his bodyguards had died, and he sank into melancholy.

Searching for somewhere to hide in the grey light before dawn, they found a blackened and scorched ruin in which lay the charred skeletons of more than a dozen people, some no
larger than children. Peregrine was so overcome with grief and anger that Jack feared he would suffer an attack of the falling sickness again. The prince galloped on, however, his face pale and set, with no sign of the dizziness that normally accompanied an attack.

Grizelda was pale, too, and unusually silent. She did not complain when Peregrine pushed on, even though the sun was rising and the smoke was beginning to uncurl from the chimneys of the cottages nearby. She did not even complain when Jack made her tuck all her hair up inside the hood of her cloak.

All she said was, ‘I cannot help it if my hair shines, Jack. Do you think I am blonde on purpose?'

‘Just keep your hood up,' Jack responded.

Several times over the course of that day, spearheads of sisika birds flew low overhead. Each time, Jack drew the two horses in under the cover of a tree, keeping a close grip on Argent's bridle so that she would not neigh and draw attention to them. Grizelda made no protest, nor any attempt to signal the starkin soldiers. She just watched them fly over, her face expressionless. At last they found refuge in a ruined barn, its walls blackened with fire, and then rode on again after a few hours' sleep.

Twilight darkened into night. It was so still and quiet, Peregrine could hear clearly the soft sound of the horses' hooves clopping. He felt an unbearable tension, sure they were still being followed. He dismounted and swaddled Sable's hooves with cloth, and made Grizelda and Jack do the same. Blitz crouched on his perch, shifting from foot to foot. It had been days since he had last been unhooded and let fly, and he was restive and unhappy and tired of old, bloodless meat. Mounting
again, Peregrine stroked his falcon's back and tucked Blitz under his cloak, close to his heart, comforting him.

When dawn came, the world was swathed in mist. Peregrine did not search for shelter but rode on, listening for hoof beats behind him. Far away a sisika bird screeched. Peregrine's stomach lurched.

‘Let's hurry,' he ordered.

‘But the fog … we cannot see where we're going,' Grizelda protested.

‘Follow the path!' Peregrine spurred Sable forward, letting him have his head; Jack and Grizelda followed close behind.

By midmorning, the mist had burnt away and they saw the fenlands unrolling before them. The sky seemed huge above them, the land so flat the horizon seemed to curve slightly. As far as Peregrine could see were patches of murky water, fringed by thick beds of rushes and sedges that rustled constantly in the wind. Occasionally willows dangled their bare branches down to the water, or there was a low hill where a few disconsolate-looking trees stood, rattling their twigs.

To the right was a spread of velvety green moss, the only colour in all the grey and dun landscape. There was little snow on the ground, though frost rimed the edges of the water that lapped sluggishly at the reedy banks.

‘Now what do we do?' Grizelda said.

‘I'll call someone to come and guide us through,' Peregrine said. He dismounted, leaving Sable to graze, and sat down cross-legged at the water's edge. He listened, glad to hear birdsong again for the first time in days. After a while, Peregrine drew out his flute and began to play a haunting tune, weaving into it all the sounds of the marshes—the wind in the rushes, the slow lap of the water, the monotonous
zrip, zrip, zrip
of the little birds in the reeds.

Swallowtail butterflies came and danced around Peregrine's head. An otter crept from the water and lay on its belly, listening intently. A group of mice sat by the prince's foot, swaying slightly to the music, while a water rat swam close, beady eyes fixed on his face. Two tiny birds fluttered down and perched on his knees. Grizelda drew in her breath in wonder.

From somewhere deep in the marshes came a strange, deep sound, like an ox lowing. Grizelda gave a startled cry, which sent the birds flying up and the mice scurrying away. Peregrine glanced at her quellingly and mimicked the sound. It came again, closer, and once again Peregrine answered.

The rushes parted and a man stepped out. He was skinny and long-limbed, dressed in mud-coloured clothes with a broad-brimmed hat of plaited rushes on his head. He wore a cape of some thin, sleek leather pinned at one shoulder with an unusual wooden brooch, cunningly carved in the shape of a long-beaked bird.

‘Who is it who calls?' he asked in a low voice, looking suspiciously up and down the edge of the marshes.

‘I am Prince Peregrine of the Stormlinn,' Peregrine replied. ‘Will you please take us to Lord Percival?'

The man stared at them in surprise. ‘Jumping Jimjinny! Are you tomfooling me?' He pushed back his hat to scratch his bushy grey hair.

A drumming sound came from behind them. Sable lifted his head and whickered softly. Peregrine glanced back and saw the grey hunter galloping towards them, his two great hounds loping at his heels. Behind him ran a whole battalion of soldiers, halberds thrust out.

‘This is no trick! Please, we need to go now!' Peregrine unhooded Blitz and flung him up into the air, and the falcon
soared high, uttering his sharp call. One of the soldiers fired an arrow at him, but Blitz wheeled and soared away over the marshes.

The man beckoned them urgently. ‘Quick, now! You'll have to leave the horses, we can't take them in the marsh'.