“Why
didn’t you just ask!” laughed Harry, as if it hadn’t been obvious.
“Stop
playing games, Harry. Just read it to us,” said Eleanor crossly.
“All
right, all right. Here it is. It seems to be a poem. But I must
warn you, I can read the words now but I don’t know what it means. It
really is cryptic.”
So Harry read the poem out loud
to them all:
To
drown the Sword not once, but twice
Will
be the traitors’ game.
To
wreck the Crown at large
Will
be the treacherous aim.
Plucked
from their homes, the innocents
Will
travel past World’s End
To
meet their destiny and fate
To
rescue freedom and a friend.
Hell’s
Bay will sound with clashing tones.
Dragons
must not be slain
When
fire heats up the water’s edge
When
Ascalon is forged again.
By
Dragons’ Bane the children three
Will
dull and lull the putrid lair,
To
pluck from him the oily stone
By
breathing out the vapoured air.
Box
up your fears and frights,
Beware
the direct route.
Success
will come to he who thinks,
Who
wears another’s suit.
The
traitors’ curse will free itself
When
passions clash with fate.
Freedom
and not the end
Lies
through the Traitors’ Gate.
The
Witan looks for freedom first.
Seek
and you will find.
Trust
in the truth; look for knowledge.
May
friendship be your bind.
“Is
that it?” said Grace. “I don’t understand. What’s it meant to
mean?”
“Well,”
added Master John. “It’s certainly a pretty piece. Parts seem
clear, but most of it is very cloudy. Now at least we know that if Queen
Eleanor knew part of the Prophecy, she knew enough that there was a drowned
sword and three children.
“It
seems clear too that you’re on a hunt as well - a dragon hunt - as the Queen
warned you. Perhaps there are clues in this, perhaps not. We have
another day in this carriage so there’ll be plenty of time for you to think
about it anyway.”
Eloise,
of course, sat silently throughout this. But Sophie was sitting up in the
carriage, her nose up high sniffing the air and listening intently, before she
put her head down on Eleanor’s lap. Eleanor fondled Sophie’s head
absent-mindedly.
“Read
the verse with the bit about the dragon again will you, Harry?”
“Hell’s
Bay will sound…”
“No
not that one. The next one.”
“By
Dragons’ Bane, the children three
Will
dull and lull the putrid lair,
To
pluck from him the oily stone…”
“Dragons’
Bane. I thought so,” said Eleanor. “I’ve seen the word ‘bane’
before in my book. I just need to find it again.”
Eleanor
flicked through the book and found the right page. “Here it is.”
She began reading, “
‘Purple Bane. A beautiful and delicate flower once
believed to have been common all over England, but now very rare. It has
delicate flowers which tempt you to smell it, but the plant stinks. What
bane it was used for is now forgotten, but it serves no modern purpose.’
I
think ‘bane’ means poison. Perhaps Dragons’ Bane is how we kill the
dragons to get the diamond.”
“But
the poem says that dragons must not be slain,” pointed out Harry.
“Perhaps the dragons need to be alive for the magic to work on the Sword.
Maybe the blacksmith will know when we meet him.”
“Not
all poisons kill,” replied Master John. “The healers sometimes mix up
herbs and flowers for my hounds if they need looking after. It makes them
drowsy and can put them to sleep. They are poisons sure enough, but do not
kill. When they awake, they seem to recover. You need to talk to a
healer and ask more about this Dragons’ Bane. Perhaps one could tell you.”
“More
to the point,” said Grace, “it doesn’t seem to tell us where we’re going.
I’m learning to use my star map to help us get somewhere, but it’s not much
good if we don’t even know where we’re going! World’s End sounds a little
scary, but not as bad as Hells’ Bay. I don’t think I want to go to
either!”
Master
John leant forward and put a hand on her knee. “You may not want it, but
meeting your ‘destiny and fate’ won’t often coincide with anything you want to
do. Look at how you ended up here.”
The
children looked at each other. However kindly the words were meant, none
of them found them very comforting. At the same time, Sophie sat up with
one paw on Harry and Eleanor’s legs. She licked – well, kissed really -
Grace’s hand before settling down across all of their toes. That, at
least, was comforting.
“I’m
sure I’ve heard of Hell’s Bay before,” said Grace. “I’ve just got to
remember where.”
“Well
do let us know when you remember,” answered Harry, a little irritably.
Grace
stuck her tongue out at him, which at least made her feel a little
better. And Eloise smiled at that, wishing she had a tongue to stick out
at all.
“What is that disgusting smell?”
shouted Grace.
They
had all been snoozing. It was the afternoon of the second day and they
had suffered a bad night in the carriage, uncomfortable and unable to
sleep. Late that morning, they had turned off the road onto a much better
road at a place called Ilchester.
By
then, Grace felt she was beginning to master her star charts. Harry knew
the Prophecy off by heart now and kept asking his book questions, but also kept
getting a bit fed up with just how cryptic the answers were. In the back
of his mind, he was a bit cross about it all, as he couldn’t work it out.
Eleanor
knew about hundreds of plants and what the book said they were used
for. There were plants for healing cuts, plants to stop you feeling
hungry, and plants for curing animals. But she was fed up too. Her
book didn’t seem to be at all magical like the others.
The
few times they had changed horses, there had been little more than five minutes
to stretch their legs and to accept whatever parcels of food were given to
them. Sometimes it was delicious; sometimes it seemed rank. Mead
had been offered, and Master John had made them drink it in places he knew the
water to be foul. It was sweet like honey, but a little bitter too.
And it was alcoholic. All three children had the strange sensation of
being tipsy for the first time. It was enough to quench their thirst
before the watchful Eloise snatched the heady potion away from
them. Then, they had dozed off. Perhaps it was the mead.
Grace
had woken them all with her shout. “It’s a really, really horrid smell,”
she added.
“Yuck,”
said Harry and Eleanor at once. Then Harry added for good measure,
“That’s a really disgusting fart.” They giggled.
Even
Eloise smiled at that, though she pretended not to and held her nose shut with
her fingers.
Master
John then stood up, as far as the short ceilings in the carriage would allow,
and threw open the shutters: “January it may be and the air may be freezing
cold, but we need some fresh air.”
Just
then, a huge pothole threw him down on the lap of Eloise. She squealed,
but he just bellowed with laughter. “I’m cooped up in here with you all.
Now the fresh air is giving me strength. God help me if they don’t give
me a horse on my own in the open to ride back to Clarendon!”
The
smell was not much better, and Sophie barked, just once. Eloise pointed
at Eleanor and she looked down. The sun streaming into the carriage from
the open shutters had blinded them all for a moment, but they saw what it was
now. Sophie’s paws were on Eleanor’s book and she seemed to be scratching
the page with them.
“Is
it you making that smell, Sophie?” asked Harry. Her response to that was
to put her ears back and give a little friendly growl which clearly
meant: “No it’s not. Don’t be rude.”
Then
Eleanor jabbed Harry and pointed at the book, “Look, silly.”
Sophie
scratched the book again. The picture seemed to lift off the page.
It was as if the plant was actually growing out of the book and wafting gently
in the wind. It had beautiful purple flowers. But it seemed to be
smoking. It filled the carriage with a misty vapour. It stank.
“It’s
the Purple Bane,” said Eleanor. “The one they say really smells.”
“I
know what to do with that then,” said Grace. She leant over and pushed
Sophie off the book, before turning the page. All of a sudden, the misty
vapour was sucked back into the book and the smell vanished. Everything
just went back into the book.
“That’s
better,” said Master John. Eloise took her fingers off her nose and
sniffed the air.
“See,”
said Grace smugly.
“I
do have a magic book!” said Eleanor, suddenly happy and not feeling left out at
all. “It’s a scratch and sniff book!” She flicked over the pages,
found what she was looking for and frantically began scratching the page.
Up sprang a beautiful rose bush with the prettiest pink flowers. Then the
carriage filled with the most beautiful smell of summer roses, but no smoky
mist this time. They all felt a lot better.
Eleanor
scratched vigorously. “Ouch,” she suddenly said. “There’s a thorn in my
finger.” Everyone just laughed unfairly, as Eleanor put her finger in her
mouth to stop the prick of blood. The only one who seemed to give her any
attention was Eloise. Quickly she found something from under the folds of
her robe and leant forward. She gently pulled Eleanor’s finger from her
mouth and bandaged the wound. It was only a little prick, but Eleanor
smiled and thanked her. To Eleanor, this shy girl suddenly seemed to have
a personality beyond her timid presence in the carriage.
“Where
are we now?” asked Grace. “Is it far to go?”
“Not
far,” replied Master John. “We turned onto the Fosse Way at Ilchester and
soon we will soon be at Axmouth, the end of that great road. It is one of
the busiest ports on the south coast.”
“What’s
the Fosse Way?” asked Grace.
“The
Fosse Way, young Grace, is one of the greatest roads in the kingdom. It
runs in a straight line from Lincoln to Axmouth and was built by the
Romans. It’s not like our happy little winding English lanes and
ways. It’s a great road that has carried armies and commerce across the
kingdom for centuries. I doubt there will be a better road built in our
lifetime.”
At
that the children smiled to themselves, but heeding the advice of the Queen,
they kept quiet, even in front of Master John and the nervous Eloise.
Master
John carried on: “At Axmouth there’s a great estuary and port and the King’s
finest ship awaits your instructions. I hope you’re prepared now after
consulting your magical books.”
Master
John had been listening to their conversations, and he thought they had been
making progress. But within themselves, the children were full of doubt.
None of them was entirely sure they were any the wiser about the task they had
been set. Harry didn’t think that he had used his book wisely enough and
Grace suddenly had a guilty feeling that all the time she had been reading her
own book she should have been trying to remember where Hell’s Bay was.
She was sure she knew.
“When
we arrive, we must travel up the valley to find the blacksmith. He’s been
warned. Then I must return in the morning.”
“The
blacksmith?” asked Eleanor.
“Aye.
You remember. The Queen told you a message had been sent ahead to meet
the Englishman who will help forge the new sword.”
“Do
you have to leave us?” said Harry quietly, echoing the thoughts of the others,
including Eloise. His boisterous humour had kept them in good spirits
during the journey, even though his huge size meant that sometimes he dominated
their small space.
“I
do. My place is with the Royal Hunt and with His Majesty the King.
I must return as soon as I’ve delivered you to Axmouth. I’ll take you to
the blacksmith and then I must leave you.”
“After
that,” he bellowed with laughter, “the Captain of the King’s flagship will have
to take orders from you, Grace. For you have a skill of navigation which
will leave him overwhelmed, in spite of all his experience!”