Alfie Bloom and the Secrets of Hexbridge Castle (7 page)

Miss Reynard smiled. “I'm sure Alfie is very grateful.”

“Er, yes, thank you so much,” said Alfie, taking his cue and earning a glare from Snitch that nearly knocked him over.

“Well, everything seems to be in order, so we'll be going.” Miss Snitch cast one final sharp glance at Alfie as she left the room. Murkle waddled after her as Robin whispered in Miss Reynard's ear.

“Miss Murkle, I think you forgot something,” she called, pointing at something the headmistress was trying to conceal under her cardigan.

“My mistake,” spluttered Murkle. “It was on the floor when we came in. I, um, wasn't sure where to put it.” She grudgingly handed over a roll of paper. Alfie watched them march away down the hallway and wondered what they had really been up to.

“What did you take from Miss Murkle?” he asked, when he was sure that they had gone.

“They appear to be plans of the castle.” Miss Reynard rolled them out carefully on to the table. “I wonder what they were looking for?”

“Whatever it was, it sounds as if they didn't find it,” said Alfie.

“That's true, but it could be a reason to be careful around them. Murkle and Snitch are not the sort of people you want to take an interest in you.”

Alfie was surprised to hear her refer to the head teachers by their last names alone.

“Now that's enough about them.” She smiled. “Let's see what treasures this room holds.”

She browsed the books with great delight before admiring the library itself.

“Do you know the symbolism behind that?” she asked, pointing at an ornate painted carving above the fireplace. It was of three women around an old-fashioned spinning wheel. Alfie shook his head.

“Those are the Fates, three mythological sisters. The Greeks believed that they mapped out our lives at birth and decided how good or fortunate someone would be. Clotho, the youngest, is spinning the thread of life. She decides how happy a life will be. Her sister, Lachesis, is measuring it to decide how long the person will live. The oldest woman is Atropos. She cuts the thread when it is time to die.”

Alfie stared, transfixed by the sisters as Miss Reynard spoke.

“The Greek philosopher Philostratus said that if the Fates decreed someone would win a race at the Olympic Games, then they would win even with a broken leg. If a man was destined to become a great archer, he would never miss his target even if he lost his eyesight.”

Madeleine looked thoughtful. “So if I was destined to fail my exams, there's no way I could ever pass, no matter how hard I work?” she said with a smile. “It would be pointless trying, really.”

“Hmm … well, as we can't talk to these ladies, there's no way of knowing if you are destined to fail maths,” said Miss Reynard, “so don't even think of not studying.”

Alfie shot a last look at the Fates and gave an involuntary shiver as he headed back to the party. The thought of an entire lifetime mapped out and unchangeable was terrifying.

 

Alfie's dad spent a lot of time in his workshop over the next few weeks. Alfie noticed how much happier he seemed being free to work on his devices every day, but couldn't help feeling a little sad they weren't spending as much time together as they had since the letter from Muninn and Bone. At least Ashford was enforcing the rule that he ate regular meals with Alfie in the Great Hall, and he was even starting to put on weight. Alfie had insisted that the butler eat his evening meal with them, and they clustered around one end of the huge table each evening. Ashford had warmed up considerably. But while he seemed incredibly interested in every aspect of their lives, he answered very little about himself.

“I'm far too boring a subject for dinner conversation,” he announced when Alfie asked where he was from. “You'd fall asleep in your mashed potatoes. Now, tell me all about your last school. What were your favourite subjects?”

One day a little parcel covered in stamps arrived from Amy, who was still touring Asia with her gran. It contained a wooden beaded bracelet and a tiny waistcoat. The letter informed him that the bracelet was from a temple in Beijing and the waistcoat was a gift for Galileo from a cat café they had visited in Hong Kong. It cost him more than a few scratches to wrestle Galileo into the waistcoat so that he could take a picture for Amy – the cat did not seem at all impressed with his gift. Amy had also enclosed some photos of their travels. His favourite was of her clambering over gigantic tree roots that sprawled over a temple she had visited in Thailand. At the bottom she had written,
I think this is what Gran meant when she said she wants me to discover my roots
. He laughed as he stuck the picture on his wardrobe door. He wished Amy wasn't away for the whole summer, as he was dying to talk to her about the castle and his dad's revelations.

After dreading a long boring summer alone in the city, Alfie found himself with barely a free minute in Hexbridge. He spent as much time at the farm as the castle, where Uncle Herb set him to work with the twins. His days were filled with stacking hay bales, collecting eggs and fixing fences.

One sunny afternoon in August, as Alfie and his cousins took a break from painting the cattle shed, a hunting horn blasted out from the forest. It was followed by dogs barking as they crashed through the undergrowth. Robin jumped to his feet. “It's the Snoddingtons and their friends. They're starting one of their hunts.”

“Oh, the poor fox!” Madeleine shouted down from the tree she was sitting in. “I hope it bites old Snoddy on the backside and gives him rabies.”

Alfie kept an eye out for the fox over the rest of the afternoon, hoping it would run on to the farm so they could hide it. Sadly it didn't. When the horn sounded again and the dogs started yelping Alfie assumed that the fox had met a gruesome end. He finished painting in gloomy silence.

Dinner time brought a wonderful surprise. The Merryweathers' neighbour Dermot Feeney and his son Jimmy came by with a tale to tell. In-between fits of laughter, Dermot told how the fox had led the entire company straight through his fields just as he was spraying manure. Alfie couldn't control his glee as he heard about the moment the riders in their spotless red jackets and white britches found themselves sprayed with stinking manure. Everyone was in stitches as Jimmy impersonated Lord Snoddington spitting manure and calling to the others to retreat.

“Stop, stop!” shrieked Aunt Grace, tears streaming down her face. “My cheeks are hurting!”

When Alfie got back to the castle that evening, he could barely keep his eyes open. Although it was only half past seven, his dad insisted that he have a bath and go straight to bed. Galileo had already taken up his usual spot at the end of the bed by the time Alfie turned out the lights.

In the middle of the night, he was woken by a noise.
Tap-tap-tap
. He sat up in bed and listened…
Tap-tap-tap
. Galileo let out a low growl and slunk towards the window, his tail bushy. Alfie slipped out of bed and pulled the curtains aside. Galileo was already standing on the window seat, paws on the window sill. Alfie gazed into the night. There was nothing there. Maybe it was the wind, blowing ivy against the window?

Tap-Tap-Tap!
Galileo hissed and Alfie nearly leapt out of his skin as he saw a large raven perched outside on the window ledge. It held an envelope in its beak and was staring up at him with eyes like shiny black beads.

“Caspian?” asked Alfie, opening the window and taking the envelope. Galileo leapt up and hung from the window sill with one paw, frantically trying to swat the bird with the other.

“CRAAAUGH!” squawked the raven angrily, before flapping away into the night. Alfie broke the seal and pulled out a folded parchment and a Muninn and Bone compliments slip. The slip read:

 

Alfie,

I trust my messenger finds you well. Enclosed is the first of a number of communications left in our care by Orin Hopcraft. The rest will be delivered at times specified by the Great Druid. I trust they will help quell your insatiable curiosity.

Sincerely,

Caspian Bone

Alfie sat down on the window seat. A message from Orin himself, written hundreds of years ago! He carefully unfolded the parchment and blinked in surprise when he saw what was on the page. Nothing. Could the ink have completely faded away after all those years? He turned the page over, but the other side was blank too. Maybe there was a secret message on it, like the ones he used to write in lemon juice with Amy. He flicked the light switch and the torches on the walls burst into flame. Holding the letter close to the flames, he waited for brown letters to be scorched across the page. Again, nothing.

Disappointed, Alfie folded the parchment and got back into bed. Maybe his dad could figure it out in the morning. Galileo remained on the window seat guarding against more avian visitors. As Alfie began to doze off, Emily Fortune's words suddenly drifted into his mind. What was it she had said about the talisman – it was a key and a lens that could reveal secrets and focus energy? He sat bolt upright, grabbed the paper and whipped the talisman out of his pyjama top. Holding it up to his eye, he looked at the parchment through the lens. He almost dropped it when he saw what was there. Tinted purple by the lens, the parchment was now covered in glowing calligraphic writing. Heart pounding, Alfie clenched the talisman like a monocle between his cheek and eyebrow and began to read:

 

Dear Alfie,

How good it is to break through the barrier of time and speak to you at last. I requested that this letter be delivered to you shortly after the transference of your inheritance. How do you like our castle? I am afraid I placed rather a burden upon you during your first visit. The castle is reparation for my presumption, which I hope to explain to you in this letter.

There has always been magic in the universe. It existed before our world was created and will be there at the end of time. The druids, as we now call ourselves, were among the guardians of some of the ancient magics – magics so powerful they should never be used. These have passed from master to apprentice for thousands of years. Just before my mentor died, he passed the magic he had guarded on to me. A creation magic – it feeds upon energy, whether heat, lightning, other magic or even life itself. Once fed, it can use this energy to create whatever you wish. Or to destroy. Such magic, as I am sure you can understand, must remain hidden. It would be truly terrible in the wrong hands.

As I continued to develop my own skills in potion making and elemental magic, a dangerous druid came to see me: Agrodonn. I didn't know it at the time, but he had begun hunting down other druids and taking the lesser great magics that they guarded. First, he hoped to bargain with me and share my magic, talking of all that we could create with it. When I refused, he tried to take it by force. But I was too powerful for him. Most of his magic had been stolen. Magic that is not earned is dangerous and hard to control. I drove him out.

On his next visit he brought powerful allies that he had bent to his will. Again he demanded I hand over the magic. I refused, and his allies torched the villagers' crops and slaughtered their livestock. When he told me that the people would be next, I felt rage. The magic unfurled inside me, asking to be used. As Agrodonn laughed at the carnage below us, it took over my body and blasted into him, stripping away and feeding on every last bit of magic inside him. He fled, as did his allies when they came out from under his spell.

Agrodonn did not return. The magic I guarded had been well fed, so I had no choice but to use it. With the power it had drained from him I created this castle. It has become the villagers' home in times of trouble and a place of learning. However, the Fates soon decreed that the magic should disappear from the world for a while and pointed to a living hiding place. A child. One that would have the courage and strength to become the new guardian without using the magic for his own ends. Magic has never been passed on to one so young, without any training, but the Fates were clear. You were to be the new guardian.

Alfie's head was spinning as he tried to swallow down the panicky feeling rising inside him. So the light Orin had passed into him was the magic. That's why Orin had left him the castle, because he had made him into a hiding place for something a terrible druid had killed for! Alfie knew now why Orin hadn't explained it to his mum and dad: they would never have allowed him to pass the magic on to their newborn son.

 

On Samhain, the borders between worlds are already thin and time becomes more fluid. I was able to tear a rift in time to where your mother and father were waiting. As the three of you slipped back into your own time, the magic disappeared from the world for six hundred years. No one in your time knows it exists. You may notice its presence more as you near your thirteenth birthday, but the talisman helps to control and conceal it, so you are safe. Although you could not give your permission (and I beg your forgiveness for that), I hope that you can accept your role as one of the last guardians of the ancient magics.

I have much more to say, but for now I leave you to absorb what I have written here. I hope that you will find my study soon. The knowledge it contains is perhaps my greatest gift to you.

Your friend, always,

Orin Hopcraft

Alfie took a deep breath and read the letter another two times. He had never felt any magic inside him, and he doubted anyone would believe it even if he told them, but the thought of harbouring something so dangerous scared him.
A magic that could create or destroy anything but first needed to feed on energy, even life itself.
No wonder Orin wanted to hide it so badly. If Orin had used it to build the castle, what could it create if it fed on electricity, or even power stations? Powerful weapons? Invincible armies? What would people do for that kind of power? He shivered despite the warmth of his bed. The druid had said that he was safe. Alfie hoped he was right.