The Starkin Crown (9 page)

‘Is the poor dog not even allowed to pee without your permission?' Jack demanded.

She gave him a haughty glance. ‘No, he may not. I suppose you allow your dogs to do their business any old place they like. We of Zavaria prefer to control our hounds properly'.

‘I bet you do,' Jack muttered.

Lord Murray was already up and attending to the horses, who had been hitched under some trees nearby. They stood in snow to their fetlocks, their breath steaming gently in the cold air. Lord Murray looked white and tired under the dark bristle on his chin, and Peregrine suspected he had slept only a little, despite the silent guard of the owl who
sat hunched on a branch nearby. The guard had wound a bandage about the wound on his arm, but it was stained dark with blood.

‘Good morning, your Highness,' Lord Murray said. ‘We must ride on as soon as you have broken your fast. I dare not light a fire, so I'm afraid it's cold rations this morning'.

He had laid out a repast of bread and cheese and preserved fruits on a wooden tray nearby, and Jack tasted it all, before standing back and saying, ‘I think it's fine, sir'.

Peregrine sat down to eat, spreading his cloak over the tree stump and taking the tray onto his lap. ‘Will you not eat with me?' he said to Grizelda, who was busy trying to tidy her hair with the help of a silver comb and mirror. ‘And you too, Jack. No need for court manners when we're in the wilds, surely'.

Jack hung back, saying, ‘Oh, no, sir, I'd much rather wait,' but Grizelda came forward at once, saying, ‘Is this all there is? Surely we are not to eat like peasants?'

‘I'm so sorry, my lady, I seem to have mislaid our baggage train,' Lord Murray said with heavy sarcasm.

‘Along with most of our escort,' Grizelda answered, laying some cheese on the hard, dark bread and nibbling at it daintily.

Lord Murray went white, while Peregrine laid down his food, suddenly unable to eat a mouthful. ‘Do you think Lord Hartmann is all right?' he asked Lord Murray anxiously. ‘Perhaps he beat off the attackers and is trying to catch up with us'.

Lord Murray shook his head. ‘There were too many of them, sir. I saw at least six. I can only hope that he managed to stop anyone from following us. We must've left a pretty trail behind us, crashing through the forest like that. We must take care today, particularly now the snow has stopped'.

‘You think the starkin will still be on our trail?' Peregrine stared at him in dismay.

Lord Murray nodded. ‘They must know by now the prize that slipped through their fingers. If any of those starkin scum are still alive, they'll be hot on our trail, I assure you, sir'.

Grizelda said, ‘It is hardly polite of you to refer so to those of starkin blood, particularly when I am present!'

‘I'm afraid I'm not feeling very polite this morning,' Lord Murray replied, beginning to buckle the packs to the horses' saddles.

‘I know how you feel,' Jack growled, casting Grizelda such an accusing glance that she dropped her bread and cheese.

‘You cannot suspect me?' she cried. ‘But I came … I was the one who warned you of their approach! You must believe me, I did not know of any ambush, nor how they found us so fast'. She looked from one face to another with imploring blue eyes, her hands clasped at her breast.

Peregrine found it hard to meet her eyes. He stood up, gesturing to Jack to come and eat his fill. Jack made himself a hasty sandwich, while Lord Murray carefully packed away the remnants, throwing the crumbs under a bush.

‘Please believe me. I am sorry for the loss of your companions, but it is not my fault!' Grizelda cried, her own bread and cheese forgotten.

‘Your dog barked,' Jack said.

‘Dogs do,' she answered swiftly. ‘I did not tell him to'.

‘He won't even pee without you telling him to!' Jack pointed out.

‘But that's different. He's been trained to never piddle inside, or anywhere we don't want him to. You've got to do
that if you live in a castle! Particularly if you have as many dogs as we do. Your Highness, don't you agree?'

Peregrine shrugged. ‘I guess so'. He lifted his flute to his lips and called to Blitz again.

‘And he's been trained to stop barking when I tell him too, but I was gagged, I couldn't tell him to stop, let alone to start!' Grizelda's colour was up, her eyes were brilliant with anger, and she stamped one small crimson boot for emphasis. Oskar raised his hackles and growled, obviously sensing his mistress's anger.

‘Just don't let him bark again,' Lord Murray said, leading Sable to Peregrine. ‘We must try to keep ahead of any pursuit and leave no trail. Do you understand, my lady?'

She nodded, looking mutinous. Lord Murray bent and cupped his hands for Peregrine to put his foot into, but Peregrine leapt up into the saddle without any help, saying, ‘Watch your arm, my lord! I would not want you to start bleeding afresh'.

Lord Murray nodded and carefully harnessed Peregrine to his saddle. Grizelda watched in surprise, but was cast such a warning look by Peregrine that she asked no questions, though her fine golden brows drew together in a calculating look.

Peregrine heard the faraway tinkle of the falcon's bells. He held out his arm and Blitz came plummeting down, his feathers all ruffled by the wind, landing heavily on Peregrine's wrist. Peregrine stroked his head lovingly and gave him a lump of raw meat from the wallet at his waist. ‘I was worried about you,' he murmured. ‘Where've you been?'

Blitz replied in his own harsh falcon language, and then Peregrine hooded him and tied his jesses to the perch. Lord
Murray and Jack both mounted and began to ride out of the clearing.

Grizelda looked at her own horse, left standing hitched to the tree, and then crossed her arms and tapped her foot angrily.

‘Jack,' Peregrine said softly.

His squire sighed noisily. He dismounted, unhitched the white mare and brought her to Grizelda. With an expression of stoic suffering, he cupped his hands and lifted her into the saddle. He then leapt nimbly back up into his own saddle, without even putting his foot in the stirrup.

‘Which way?' Peregrine said to the owl, who had sat unblinking on her branch, watching them eat and pack with round, golden eyes.

Stiga hooted softly and flew away through the forest. The four riders cantered after her, the tall white hound loping tirelessly behind.

T
HE ICY WIND RATTLED THE BARE BRANCHES AND SNOW
whirled from the sky, but Peregrine could only be glad, for it quickly filled the deep impressions left by their horses' hooves.

It was the second day after the ambush in the forest. They had ridden as long as they could the previous day, only stopping when it was too dark to see. Lord Murray had made them a tent out of his cloak, and he and the two boys had taken turns in standing guard all through the endless hours of the night. No-one had trusted Grizelda to stand watch. They had risen before dawn, their makeshift tent so deeply covered in snow it was just a white hump in the winter landscape. Oskar sank to his stomach when he tried to go outside. The only way he could keep up was to leap and bound as if running through waves.

It had kept snowing all day. The wind was so strong it buffeted against Peregrine, piercing through the wool of his cloak and leaving it dusted with frost. He could not see more than a few feet in any direction, and was glad of the low hoot of the owl guiding him safely through the trees.
He kept Blitz pressed close to his heart, for the falcon would not wish to fly in this howling wind.

Sometime during the afternoon, the wind began to die away. They rode through an immaculate landscape, the trees all wearing hats and scarves of snow, the bare twigs in white mittens. Peregrine unhooded Blitz and untied his jesses so the falcon could hunt.

‘Where are we?' Grizelda asked, quickening her pace so that she rode beside him. Her eyes were very blue in her face, the tip of her nose pink.

‘Somewhere in the Perilous Forest,' Peregrine answered rather tartly.

‘But don't you know?'

‘It's a very big forest. And I only know small parts of it—the forest around the castle and near the Evenlinn'.

‘That's where the Erlrune lives, isn't it?'

He nodded.

‘You're related to her too, aren't you?'

‘Yes. She's my great-aunt'. Peregrine spoke rather tersely. He could not be sure whether Grizelda's many questions were mere curiosity or if she was really a spy, pumping him for information.

She did not seem to notice any restraint in his manner, saying, ‘Is she very terrifying? We have heard such stories of her! Is it true she cuts the throats of children in order to see into that well of hers?'

‘Of course it's not true!' Peregrine would normally have explained that the Erlrune cut herself to get the blood necessary to see into the Well of Fates, so that her palms were crisscrossed with scars, but he wished to give nothing away. The starkin had been seeking for centuries to find some way
to undermine the enigmatic power of the Erlrune, and he certainly did not want to be the one to say that she was in fact the most gentle and kind person he knew. Her reputation for fearsomeness did a great deal to protect her.

‘I must admit I'm rather apprehensive about meeting her,' Grizelda said. She smiled at Peregrine. ‘You'll protect me, though, won't you, your Highness?'

Peregrine contented himself with a stiff, formal bow.

‘How long until we get there?' she asked.

Peregrine had been scanning the sky as they rode, looking for Blitz, but he had not been paying much attention to the landscape. Now he looked about him in some surprise. They should have been heading north, the ground growing steeper and harsher, pines and firs casting a deep green gloom over them. Instead they seemed to be heading west, towards the setting sun, and the ground was gentle and rolling, covered with bare-branched beeches and larches, with the occasional towering oak tree still hung with a few brown leaves.

He shrugged. ‘I'm not sure. I think Stiga is taking us the long way around, just to be safe'.

‘Stiga? You mean that funny little old woman who kept hissing “starkin” at me? Didn't we leave her at the castle?'

Peregrine glanced at her in surprise, but then remembered that Grizelda had been blindfolded when Stiga had changed shape, and the old woman had not changed from her owl shape since.

‘No, Stiga came with us, didn't you realise? She's been with us all the time, in her owl shape. That's her, flying ahead of us, showing us the way through the forest'. Peregrine pointed to the white owl, flickering in and out of the trees ahead of them. She was almost invisible against the white banks of snow. ‘That's Stiga'.

Grizelda peered at the owl, then looked at him in disbelief. ‘Are you having a jest with me?'

‘Of course not'. Peregrine called to Stiga and she wheeled about and came down to rest on a low branch nearby, staring from one to the other with round golden eyes. ‘Stiga, will you change, please?' he asked.

The owl ruffled up her feathers in displeasure, but stepped off the branch and into the form of an old woman wrapped in a pale mottled shawl.

Grizelda screamed. She flung herself back so violently in her saddle she almost fell off, and had to clutch at her pommel to steady herself. ‘What … what the blazes … ?'

‘No time to waste, we're on the chase,' Stiga said scoldingly. ‘Let us flee, come follow me'. She hunched her back, spread her shawl-fringed arms and flew up in the shape of an owl again, hooting commandingly.

‘She changes shape into an
owl
?' Grizelda cried.

Jack clicked his tongue. ‘Really, starkin are so unobservant'.

‘She's our guide,' Peregrine said. He would have explained more about Stiga's uncanny magical powers, but at that moment there was a shrill cry and Blitz came plummeting down from the sky. Peregrine braced his knees and held out his gauntleted wrist, and the falcon landed heavily, scolding him, his feathers ruffled. He carried a dead white hare in one claw. Peregrine rested his wrist on the wooden perch, holding his reins in that hand so he could scrabble for some gobbets of raw meat in the pouch at his belt. Blitz tore hungrily at the meat and, when he had finished, Peregrine hooded him again and tied his jesses to the perch so the bird could ride in comfort. He threw the hare to Jack.

‘Fresh meat for supper tonight!' he said exultantly.

‘Oskar needs to hunt too,' Grizelda said. ‘He hasn't eaten since we left the castle, and he'll be hungry. He can bring down a deer or even a wild boar if need be. We can hunt together and feast afterwards!'

Peregrine glanced at her, a little surprised, and she laughed at him, her eyes bright and clear. He smiled back, quite involuntarily.

A dog bayed mournfully behind them, and then another. Their smiles were extinguished at once. Lord Murray gestured to them, his horse breaking into a gallop. Peregrine untied Blitz deftly, loosening his hood and throwing him into the air. The falcon screamed, high and shrill, and soared away as Peregrine pressed his heels into Sable's satiny black sides. At once the stallion leapt forward, Grizelda's white mare easily keeping pace beside him. Snapdragon was not so swift, but galloped gamely in the rear, Jack drawing his sword.

They galloped through the brown tracery of trees, the dogs baying for blood behind them. Down a hill, along a broad slope, in and out of trees, through a copse of mossy birches, up a steep and stony slope and down the other side they galloped, pursued by the howl of the dogs. The owl swept sideways. Through a shadowy gateway of stone and along a deep, fern-hung gorge they raced, horses sweating and labouring. Still the dogs bayed at their heels.

Along a small, rocky brook the horses cantered, icy water splashing their riders' legs. The dogs clamoured behind them. The brook plunged down in white cascades into a deep green pool. Lord Murray did not hesitate. He urged his horse down the waterfall and into the water, kicking his legs free so he floated alongside, gripping his pommel. Peregrine followed
close behind. The shock of the cold water was like an iron clamp on his lungs and heart, but he kicked his feet free of the stirrups and let Sable tow him towards the far shore.