‘And what did you decide, when you met this cousin?’ asked Timoken.
Beri pouted. ‘I did not like him. He was older than me. Fat and boring. I ran away from him one day. And that is when I got caught. I think that the kidnappers had followed us all the way from Toledo. They had been
waiting for a chance to grab me and when they saw me alone, outside the castle, they could not believe their luck. Before I could cry out, they had run up and, while one put his hand over my mouth, the other bound my hands and feet. I was thrown over one of the horses, and they galloped off before anyone even knew that I had left the castle.’
‘They were not the monks, then,’ said Timoken.
Beri shook her head. ‘The monks came later. Before a ransom note could be sent, the men who kidnapped me were killed by bandits. The bandits had no idea who I was. They passed me on to another gang, who sold me to those false monks. I don’t know why they kept me in a cage.’
‘You were wearing a very fine robe,’ said Timoken. ‘Perhaps they wanted to keep you apart from the others and try to ransom you, when they could find out who you were.’
‘Perhaps I stand a better chance of survival, now that I am a boy,’ Beri said with a grin.
The season was turning. Nights were growing chilly. When the sun went down, the sky was filled with fiery colours. For several days now, troops of soldiers had been
filling the roads, and rather than pass them, the children had taken to the woods. One evening they emerged from the trees and found themselves on a wide plateau. Far below, a river wound its way through sand-coloured cliffs, flowering herbs filled the air with their wonderful scent, and the setting sun made everything glow with a warm, rosy light.
They decided to stop for the night, but before he made a fire, Timoken took out the moon cloak and spread it in the sunlight.
‘I believe we should arm ourselves,’ he told the others. ‘There is someone who wants the moon cloak, and your lives may be in danger, as well as mine. So I shall hide it.’
Without any more explanation, Timoken began to cast a spell. Using words from the secret kingdom, he began to transform the glittering silk of the web into a soft, crimson velvet. Before their eyes the delicate threads gathered together, rippled and spun until a fine red cloak lay at their feet.
‘You shall all have one,’ said Timoken. ‘And then the moon cloak will be truly hidden.’
He set about changing their, by now, ragged jerkins into warm red cloaks. He turned slim green sticks into
swords, and twigs into wooden shields. Later, they used charcoal from the fire to draw signs on their shields, and Timoken turned the rough shapes into fine-coloured emblems: a bear for Mabon, because he was the strongest; a wolf for Peredur with his sharp, wolfish teeth; an eagle for Edern, because it was the nearest he could get to flying; and for musical Gereint, a fish from a singing stream.
‘And what will you have?’ Timoken asked Beri, who was still deciding.
‘A hare,’ she said at last, drawing two ears on her shield. ‘Because I have never been allowed to run, and I find that I love it.’
For himself, Timoken chose a burning sun, the sun that had turned the moon spider’s silver threads into a red velvet cloak.
When they set off the next morning, they were ready for whatever challenges they might meet. Without even discussing it, each of them knew that a challenge would soon come their way.
It came the very next day. A passing traveller told them that they must follow the road south if they were to reach the kingdom of Castile. So they took to the road again.
Timoken was the first to feel the danger. A tremor in the earth and a distant thunder filled him with a sense of foreboding. He looked back and saw a cloud of dust on the road behind them. And out of the dust came the black beast and the swaying wagon with its load of brown-robed villains.
‘Shall we run, or stand and fight?’ Mabon had already turned his horse.
‘I have a score to settle with those villains,’ said Peredur, brandishing his new sword.
Timoken hardly heard them. He knew what he must do. This time he did not even wave his cloak; there was no time. In the language of the secret kingdom, he called to the sky.
He was answered by a roll of thunder louder than the roar of any beast. In a second the sky had turned an inky black and streaks of lightning flashed across the darkened landscape, striking the centre of the wagon.
The wagon vanished in a cloud of smoke, and a tall flame rose into the air. There was a distant shriek, and an acrid scent of burning filled their nostrils.
‘Are they dead?’ Edern looked at Timoken in awe.
‘They will not follow us,’ Timoken replied. He could not say if the false monks were dead. He had done what he had to do. That was all.
The others cheered heartily; even Beri gave a whoop of joy. But it was too soon to celebrate. For now the black beast, untouched by the flames, walked out of the fire. Gabar trembled and gave a bleat of fear.
‘Stay still, Gabar. I can stop this creature,’ said Timoken softly. He brought a shaft of lightning down upon the great beast’s head. But still it came on. Bolts of burning light hit the creature again and again, as Timoken desperately called to the sky. He took off his cloak and swept it through the air, still calling. The lightning came down, striking the beast on every side. And still it came on.
The others had already turned their horses and were galloping away.
‘The beast is possessed,’ shouted Edern. ‘It is the very devil. You can’t defeat it, Timoken. Come away. NOW!’
Defeat tasted sour in Timoken’s mouth. It made him afraid. But as he turned Gabar’s head, he heard the beast give a bellow of surprise. The thundering hooves were
still, and there came another sound, the growl of a big cat. Three growls.
Timoken looked over his shoulder. The horse had stopped in its tracks. It faced three large leopards, their bright coats glowing in the dark. It was as if they knew one another, the leopards and the horse that was not a horse. They could recognise the power and the enchantment beneath the coarse black hair and the spotted coats.
‘Sun Cat! Flame Chin! Star! You have found me,’ breathed Timoken.
The enraged beast pawed the ground. It lowered its great head and charged at Flame Chin, who stood between his brothers. As Flame Chin twisted away, Sun Cat leapt on to the beast’s lowered neck, while Star bounded on to its back. Snorting with fury the beast tossed its head; flames from its nostrils licked Sun Cat’s paws, but the leopard clung on, his claws biting deep into the beast’s skull.
Timoken was aware of the other children gathering behind him.
‘What are those creatures?’ whispered Beri.
‘Leopards,’ said Timoken.
‘Where have they come from?’ asked Edern.
‘From Africa. They have always been with me.’
They watched in silent amazement as the four creatures fought. Flame Chin was now braving the beast’s furious kicks. One strike of those hooves would have felled him in a second. But with astonishing agility, the leopard avoided them and leapt at a kicking hind leg, biting deep into the flesh.
The beast reared up; it shook its massive head, but the leopards clung on. Suddenly, Sun Cat leaned over and sank his teeth into the black neck. The creature stumbled; it heaved a dreadful sigh and began to sink to the ground. Its groans were almost pitiful, and Timoken had to remind himself that it was not a horse, but a creature conjured up by wickedness.
The leopards did not release their grip until the beast was on its knees, its neck twisted and its nose on the ground. Star and Sun Cat slipped off the body, lifted their heads and growled contentedly. Flame Chin withdrew his teeth from the torn leg and joined his brothers. They might have killed the beast, but they would not eat its flesh. It was not an animal, and it tasted poisonous.
‘I thank you once again, my friends,’ said Timoken.
The leopards purred. ‘The thing cannot hurt you now,’ said Sun Cat.
‘I still have far to go,’ said Timoken.
‘We will be with you,’ said Flame Chin.
‘Always,’ said Star.
The three leopards moved out of sight so swiftly it was impossible to tell in which direction they had gone.
Timoken realised that the others were staring at him. They looked bewildered.
‘Can you even speak to leopards?’ said Beri.
‘They are friends,’ Timoken replied. ‘I am sorry if my growls frightened you.’
Beri smiled. ‘They were very gentle growls.’
Recovering his composure, Mabon said, ‘That fight has given me an appetite.’
‘For food?’ said Timoken. ‘Let’s find somewhere safe to eat.’ He had no need to urge Gabar down the road. The camel could not wait to get away from the fallen beast. The sun came out again. Gereint began to sing, and everyone joined in.
They found an orchard full of ripe apples. Peredur caught a rabbit, and they ate contentedly beneath the trees. That night they slept in a deserted hut. Timoken
hung his cloak across the door, as was his habit now. But he was glad to know that the leopards were close.
The children decided that it would be good to work for a living. There were ripened apples in the orchards, and grapes filling the vineyards. The farmers were glad of their help and asked no questions. For their labour the children only wanted a hunk of bread and some cheese at midday, and a square meal before the sun set.
Timoken thought he should wear a turban to hide his thin gold crown. When Beri asked why he did not just remove the crown, he replied, shyly, that it was something he had tried all his life to do. But it was impossible.
The others attempted to pull off the crown. One by one they tugged and twisted the thin gold buried in Timoken’s hair. But eventually they gave up. Edern declared that Timoken was meant to be a king, and they had better not argue with fate.
Timoken put on his turban with a resigned expression. ‘Edern might be right,’ he said. ‘But a king without a kingdom seems a sorry sort of person.’ And then he smiled, just to let them know that he really did not mind.
After several weeks, they reached the kingdom of Castile. The country had been ravaged by war, but to
Beri it was home and it was beautiful. The roads were thronged with soldiers and, once again, Timoken and his friends took to the fields, to the woods, the mountains and the wide, sandy plains.
Gabar had been quiet and gloomy ever since the incident with the black beast. And Timoken worried that, without the Alixir, the camel would suddenly become old. But after a few days walking over the sand, Gabar’s mood improved considerably. He had seen other camels on the road, though he thought them a little inferior, tied one to another in a line and weighed down with provisions and weaponry. Some had almost lost their humps.
‘Pathetic,’ he snorted, lifting his head in a superior manner and prancing forward.
‘Do not belittle them,’ said Timoken. ‘They did not ask to join an army.’
The soldiers were not his only worry. In spite of the bright sun, Timoken found himself caught in a mood that he could not shake off. He would laugh and sing with the others, but his heart was heavy with foreboding. It was as though a dark cloud lay between himself and the blue sky. Every day it grew worse.
Beri appeared to know the way now, but occasionally she would stop and ask for directions. Some of the villages they passed had been abandoned and destroyed, but there were people in the small, more remote hamlets. She became impatient to get home. Toledo seemed so near and yet so far. Travelling through the wilder parts of the country took far too long, she said, and she begged Timoken to take to the road again. But he would not. ‘I do not like soldiers,’ he would say.
When they finally came within sight of Toledo, they found that it was just as Beri had described: a beautiful walled city built on seven hills and almost encircled by the river. A city that shone with welcome … and yet …
‘We must take the road now,’ Beri cried triumphantly. ‘Or we will not reach any of the bridges into the city.’ They were on a small rise above the plain, with the road clearly visible beneath them. Beri kicked her horse and began to gallop down the hill.
‘Wait, Beri!’ shouted Timoken.
‘What are you afraid of?’ Edern asked, looking anxiously at Timoken.
‘Those!’ Timoken pointed to the dark shapes sitting
on the city wall. There were more on the roofs, on the arches and on the gates.
‘Statues?’ said Edern.
‘No.’ The dread in Timoken’s heart became heavier every second.
‘Then what?’ asked Edern.
‘Birds,’ Timoken said in a low voice. ‘And then, not birds.’
‘You do not make sense.’ Mabon lifted a hand to shade his eyes and stared at the city. ‘Surely birds cannot hurt us.’
Timoken’s finger burned. He looked at the ring. The eyes in the small silver face were wide with fear. A thin voice came creeping out. ‘Do not enter the city.’
‘But I must,’ said Timoken. ‘You told me that my sister, Zobayda, was there.’
‘I hinted,’ agreed the forest-jinni.
‘So why should I not enter the city?’
‘He
is there also,’ whispered the ring.
‘I thought as much,’ Timoken said grimly.
Peredur turned his horse impatiently. ‘We should be following Beri, not consulting a ring,’ he said.
‘Hush!’ Timoken said abruptly. ‘I must know what is happening in the city.’
‘We shall find out soon enough.’ Mabon began to follow Peredur down the road, but his horse reared as a terrible scream came from the direction of the city.
Timoken urged Gabar after the others, while Edern and Gereint galloped ahead. Mabon managed to calm his horse, and came racing behind the camel.
They found Beri’s horse in a small copse beside the road. A boy was holding the reins. His clothes were ragged and his face scarred by deep scratches. Beri was lying at his feet.
‘What has happened here?’ Timoken slipped off the camel and ran to Beri. ‘Did you hurt her?’
The others dismounted and gathered around the girl on the ground.
‘She asked what had happened,’ the boy said defensively. ‘And so I told her.’