The Stones of Ravenglass (7 page)

Why not?
thought Gabar.
Why not take a look?
He was running through the bracken now, happiness flooding his body. Soon he would see the thing he loved. He stopped, just in time, at the edge of the cliff. He trembled with shock. For he might have fallen. Without Timoken he couldn’t fly. It was the boy who kept him aloft. Without his family, Gabar was just an extremely long-lived camel.

Gabar gazed at the vast bay in astonishment. Gone was the pale sand. It had vanished under a swirling blanket of water.

Swallowed,
thought Gabar.
It is like my family said. The sand has been swallowed
.

Not all the sand had gone, however. Small banks of higher ground were still visible but, encircled by the rushing tide, these too were slowly being swallowed.

On one of the sandbanks there were two dots. Gabar’s lashed fluttered in a long blink. Something was wrong. Those dots should not be there. They were human beings and soon they would be swallowed, too. The camel bellowed. Strands of spittle flew from his mouth. He backed away from the edge of the cliff, wheeled round and ran to his family.

Chapter Seven

Sila woke up. It was pitch dark in the tree-hide. She could hear the soft breathing of the others all around her, and then something else; a quiet rustling. It came from the corner where Karli slept.

‘Karli?’ she whispered. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m going,’ he said.

‘Not now. It’s dark. The moon is too slight.’

‘I can see by the stars. And I know where they’ve gone, the boy and his camel. They’ll follow the sand.’

‘You can’t go alone. I’m coming with you.’ Sila pushed her few possessions into a straw bag: her mother’s bone comb, a blanket, a string of shells, a wooden platter, a long sharp flint, a clay cup, a spoon and several rushes, ready to light.

‘I’m glad you’re coming, Sila,’ Karli whispered.

They crawled out of the hide and Sila let down the creeper. One end was tied to a stump in the wide mesh of branches that held their tree-home. Sila slipped her arm through a loop of string attached to her bag. Holding tight to the creeper, she swung her legs down until she could feel it between her feet.

‘Wait till I’m there and I’ll hold it steady for you.’ She spoke so softly that Karli didn’t hear her. He began to follow while she was still swinging down.

‘No, Karli,’ she hissed.

But Karli couldn’t wait. He wanted to run before his feet touched the earth. He wanted to be gone.

‘Who’s there?’ said a voice; not Karli’s.

‘Hush!’ Sila quietly silenced Karli.

She jumped to the ground and the little boy tumbled beside her.

Tumi peered into the dark beneath him. He couldn’t see the children but he knew who they were. He felt for the creeper and pulled it up, then he lay back on his straw mattress and listened to the soft breathing of the other children in the hide.

Tumi was eight when he ran away from the conquerors. He had seen two winters since then. His father had been a fisherman. He sold his fish in the market at Innswood; Tumi’s mother always sat at her husband’s side and gutted the fish for their wealthier customers. It was a good life – until the rebellion. Tumi’s father had always had a hot temper.

The people of Innswood chafed at the conquerors’ laws, at their greed and their cruelty. One cold, spring day, finding any weapon they could, they banded together and refused to pay their rents, refused to obey the laws that forbade them to hunt in their own forests, to fish in their own streams. In less than an hour, the conquerors, on their great horses, had cut down the people of Innswood, until only the children were left. When the children ran, the town was burnt to the ground.

Tumi sat up. He rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t safe for Sila and Karli to travel alone. He must follow them, and quickly. Strapping two spears to his back, he slung a bag over his shoulder. The bag was always kept ready for flight, with rush-lights, dried berries and a roll of deerskin. Like the others, Tumi always slept fully dressed.

He skimmed down the creeper and began to run, hoping that he would soon find Sila and Karli. Even in the dark, Tumi’s feet kept to the track that he knew so well. He ran swiftly, and was surprised not to come upon the others. He dared not call out. Thorkil posted spies in the trees, ready to warn them if strangers appeared in the wood.

The track ended and Tumi hesitated. He was some distance from the tree-hides now. Perhaps he could risk a call. He could hear nothing but the rustling and snuffling of animals. Quickly, he withdrew a spear from its leather casing on his back. He held it steady at his side. ‘S-e-e-la!’ he called. ‘Ka-a-rli!’

There was no reply. Which way should he go? Tumi looked at the sky and decided to keep moving forward, towards a cluster of stars that made the shape of a giant spoon. He had never learned the names of the stars, but he could recognise the patterns that they made.

A pale light began to filter through the trees. It was close to dawn. One by one the stars faded into an ashen sky. Throughout the wood, birds woke up and filled the air with a multitude of songs. Still moving, Tumi tried to hear any sound that could tell him where Sila and Karli might have gone. Instead, he heard something that sent him scuttling into the undergrowth.

Hoofbeats. They were distant but coming closer every second. Soon they would be upon him. Tumi flattened himself under a thorn-bush and pulled his spear close, ready to use it if he had to. There was a chance that they would miss him, whoever they were, if he remained perfectly still until they passed. And then Tumi heard the howl. And he knew his moments of freedom were over. For only the conquerors hunted with dogs, and the dogs would surely find him.

So Tumi waited, clutching his spear. At least he could wound one of the loathsome tyrants, giving Sila and Karli a chance to get further away. The horses were now only a few lengths down the track.

Tumi didn’t hear the hound’s stealthy approach until its bark of discovery erupted close to his ear. There was another bark, and another. The horses galloped up to him and a harsh voice said, ‘Come out, whoever you are, before I throw this spear.’

Tumi briefly closed his eyes. He knew it was hopeless. Both hounds were now eagerly sniffing at the thorn bush. Suddenly, one of them thrust in its nose and nipped Tumi’s ankle. The boy let out a yell and crawled on to the track.

‘What have we here?’ a rough voice chuckled.

‘Just a kid,’ said the other man.

Still clutching his spear, Tumi got to his feet.

The first speaker had a face the colour of a plum and was missing half an ear. The second man’s skin was scarred by the pox and his lumpish nose was pricked like a worm-eaten apple.

The two horsemen wore chain mail beneath their orange-coloured tunics, but their heads were bare. Their hair had been roughly cut in a style the conquerors favoured.

‘So, who are you, boy? A thief? These are the king’s woods now, and, by the look of that spear, such as it is,’ Half-Ear gave another coarse chuckle, ‘you were doing some hunting.’

Tumi couldn’t stop himself. ‘Does the king own every hare in every wood?’ he muttered softly.

At this, the two men threw back their heads and laughed out loud.

‘He’s a bold one, Aelfric,’ said Worm-Apple.

‘A rebel’s son, no doubt,’ said Half-Ear, his eyes growing cold. ‘And, by the look of those breeches, he’s stolen one of the king’s seals.’

‘I found it,’ Tumi said defiantly. ‘It was washed ashore in a storm, and dead on the beach when I skinned it.’

Worm-Apple leant forward and brought his pock-marked face close to Tumi. ‘And had a nice little feast of it, eh?’

‘No. The flesh was rotten.’ This was a lie. Tumi had shared the seal meat with the other tree-children. The melted fat had kept their rush-lights burning for several months.

‘You’re a thief and a rebel,’ Half-Ear said gruffly. ‘But we’ll let you go if you can tell us something.’

‘Yes?’ Tumi was suspicious.

‘We’re looking for a boy on a camel.’ Half-Ear’s blue eyes bored into Tumi’s.

‘A camel?’ Tumi said slowly.

‘A creature unknown in this land,’ said Worm-Apple. ‘But you can’t mistake it.’ He wrinkled his pitted nose. ‘It’s an ugly thing. It has a hump on its back and a very long neck. The boy has a dark skin . . .’

‘And is, perhaps, accompanied by a wizard,’ said Half-Ear.

‘Wizard?’ Tumi repeated, his mind working furiously. These men were not friends. Tumi guessed that Sila and Karli would be travelling north, up the coast. He knew this was where Karli believed the camel would go – because of the sand.

‘Don’t look so gormless, boy,’ Worm-Apple shouted. ‘You know – a wizard. One of the ancient ones, a Briton. Eyes like a storm, hair like a thorn-bush, steel in his beard, robes like a bank of dead leaves.’

‘He’s seen them,’ Half-Ear crowed triumphantly. ‘Haven’t you, boy?’

Tumi could only nod.

‘Where? Where did they go?’ Half-Ear demanded.

Tumi pointed along the track behind the two horsemen.

Half-Ear frowned. ‘That way?’

‘And then east, to the town, Innswood, where it stood before the fires.’ Tumi swung his arm at the sunrise.

‘I hope you’re telling the truth, boy,’ said Worm-Apple. ‘They’re criminals, escaped from Castle Melyntha. We need to catch them before they can do any harm.’

Tumi gave the man what he hoped was an innocent-looking stare.

‘We’ll have to get more men, Stenulf,’ said Half-Ear. ‘And I’ll take this little rebel back to the castle. Three stable boys have fallen sick. We could do with another.’

Before Tumi could turn away, Half-Ear leant down from the saddle and, seizing him under the arms, swung him up before him.

‘Let me go! Traitors, bullies!’ Tumi kicked at the man’s shins. He twisted and squirmed, trying to free himself from the vice-like grip of Aelfric’s strong arms. But it was useless. A half-starved boy stood no chance against a powerful, hardened soldier.

‘You’ve got yourself a problem there, Aelfric.’ Stenulf chuckled. ‘Good luck to you.’

Turning their horses, the two men galloped back down the track, passing beneath the tree hides, high in the branches. The thunder of hooves had already woken the children, and they watched Tumi’s helpless struggles in dismay. They had just discovered that two of their number were missing, and feared the worst.

Karli and Sila had turned their backs on the dawn light. They knew that they would find the sea in the west. They had not long left the track when they heard distant voices. A dog barked, again and again, and there was an anguished scream. Sila pulled Karli to the ground. They lay still, hardly daring to breathe, and then crawled between the ivy covering the root of an old tree. Hidden behind the creepers, they listened for footsteps, for the snuffling of dogs, for hoof-beats.

The sun began to rise; its bright beams filtered through the trees and the wood rang with bird song.

Karli sat up. ‘The conquerors came,’ he whispered, even though the danger seemed to have passed. ‘They caught someone, Sila.’

The children looked into each other’s faces, both of them knowing who had been caught.

‘Tumi!’ There was a catch in Sila’s quiet voice. ‘It was my fault,’ she burst out. ‘I heard his voice. I should have known he would follow me.’

‘D’you think they . . .’ Karli couldn’t bring himself to ask the question.

‘Killed him?’ Sila shook her head. ‘Why should they? He’s no danger to them. They’ve caught him, and now they’ll make him their slave.’

Karli frowned. His mouth trembled, but he held back the tears. ‘I hate them! I hate them!’ he cried. ‘Nowhere is safe from them. Nowhere.’

‘There’s always somewhere, Karli.’ Sila rubbed her eyes and smiled. ‘Come on, we’re on our way to find a camel, remember?’

‘And a king and a wizard,’ said Karli, jumping up.

It wasn’t an easy journey. As the trees thinned, brambles and briars grew thicker. It took time to untangle themselves and tear their way through the undergrowth, even with their tough hide mittens. But, at last, they smelled the sea; they heard gulls crying overhead and, bursting out of the wood, found themselves on a stretch of soft sand-dunes. Beyond the dunes lay the green-grey sea.

For a moment they forgot everything and delighted in the feel of sand beneath their feet. They ran through the dunes and across the wet sand; flinging their bark clogs aside, they shrieked with breathless joy as they strode into the bubbling surf.

What pain! But what delicious relief to free their aching feet and soak them in the icy water. When they were almost numb with cold, they warmed themselves by jumping on the hard sand. Hunger drove them to the rock pools where they found handfuls of shrimps and small shellfish. They had no means of cooking them, but Tumi had taught them what they must avoid, and they had become accustomed to eating raw food, so their stomachs seldom objected. They slept in a warm hollow in the dunes. Sila spread her blanket of skins over them both and they closed their eyes, listening to the soft whispering of the maram grass.

In the morning, before they pulled on their clogs, they ran into the sea, just once more. A shoal of tiny fish washed over Karli’s toes and he scooped up a handful and popped them in his mouth.

‘What are you eating, Karli?’ Sila ran up to him.

Karli pointed to the fish and Sila caught a handful for herself.

Their faces were bathed in sunlight as they walked across the beach. Sila had no idea where they were heading, or what would become of them. But she clung to the hope that they would find the little king. She was sure that, in his company, they would he safe.

They moved across the beach, up a bank of dunes and then down to another stretch of sand. They climbed a path to a cliff-top where clusters of wild berries grew, and a tree of ripe nuts. They sat down and had a feast.

Afterwards, they continued north, walking with the sun on the sides of their faces. The cliff sloped down, eventually, into a vast bay. The sand was very pale, making it look like a field of snow. The sea had retreated so far it was no more than a thin blue line on the horizon, and the cliffs that surrounded the bay were almost as distant.