Chronicles of the Red King #3: Leopards' Gold (4 page)

Guanhamara mouthed the words,
“Not Amadis. It can’t be.”

Petrello pointed to the other side of the room, where the steps began. He wanted to run and warn Amadis, but his sister shook her head. There were footsteps below them. The king was leaving the Hall of Corrections, followed by the chancellor, the prisoner, and his guards.

“What will our father do now?” asked Tolly.

The others couldn’t answer him.

W
e must warn our brother.” Tolly jumped up and ran to the steps.

Petrello followed. “He’ll be with the Knight Protectors.”

“You two run.” Guanhamara shooed them with her hands. “I’ll investigate. Why did that guard lie?”

Petrello looked back. “He was afraid of the chancellor. A look passed between them, and the guard went kind of tense. Didn’t you see?”

“I’m not sure.” Guanhamara scratched her forehead. “I’ll tell Wyngate. He’ll know what to do.”

“Why not go to our father, Guan?” said Tolly. “He surely can’t believe that Amadis is a traitor.”

“Maybe. Run now, and get to Amadis before the chancellor’s men.”

Tolly and Petrello raced down the steps and across the courtyard. The stables covered a large area close to the South Gate. The grooms were busy saddling horses for the chancellor’s men, who stood in groups talking in low voices. They turned to stare at the boys when they entered the stables.

“Why are you not in the schoolroom?” said Chimery, a lean fellow with lank gray hair and a deeply lined face.

“We have permission from the king,” said Tolly, “to … to …” He floundered.

Chimery clicked his tongue and turned back to his comrades. The boys made out the words “brats” and “spoiled,” but the men’s voices were too low and hurried for them to hear any more.

Although the chancellor’s men were not Knight Protectors, Lord Thorkil was a distinguished knight himself, and had personally trained an elite force of ten fighting men. They didn’t share the Knight Protectors’ easygoing, boisterous lifestyle, nor did they wear the bright colors favored by the other knights. The chancellor’s men were clad from head to toe in gray, from darkest charcoal to palest ash. Others in the castle called them the Gray Men, though never to their faces.

While the Gray Men were badgering the grooms, the boys quickly saddled their ponies and trotted out of the stables. As they cantered through the East Gate, Tolly asked, “What did you think of the rat, Trello?”

“What did I think?” Petrello grinned. “I thought, so that’s our sister’s endowment: making creatures out of air. And then I thought, at last she can defend herself against Olga and Lilith.”

Olga and Lilith were their older sisters. Lilith was sixteen, Olga three years younger. People joked that Lilith’s sister stuck closer to her than her own shadow. They both had truly unpleasant talents.

It was early spring, and green buds were appearing on the ancient trees. But the air was still cold. Not far from the edge of the forest, the boys found Urien, a small, stout knight who always seemed to find himself left far behind the others. His mare was old, but Urien wouldn’t part with her. He said that she had always carried him home safely.

“Which path did our brother Amadis take?” Petrello asked Urien.

Urien turned about in his saddle. “Edern went that way.” He pointed east. “Peredur, that way.” He pointed south. “Borlath followed him. Mabon, the archer, he went west and so did Ilgar and Edwin. But, um, I saw Amadis riding, um” — he pointed north — “that way.”

“To the mountains,” said Petrello.

“Yes, it would be,” Urien agreed.

“To speak with the eagles,” said Tolly. “Eagles can see more than earthbound creatures like us.”

“True.” Urien nodded. He took an apple from a bag hanging on his belt. “What chance do I have of finding the bellman,” he mumbled as he chewed. “Your brother Amadis will come closest.”

“We know.” Tolly gave his pony a light kick and then he raced away.

“Good hunting, Urien,” called Petrello as he galloped after Tolly.

The boys had explored the forest many times, but it was so vast they knew it was unlikely that they would ever know every part of it. Paths spread through the trees like the threads of a giant cobweb: deer tracks, goat tracks, paths made by the knights’ horses, the almost invisible trails of creatures that were rarely seen, and the paths of the villagers who came to collect wood for their fires, to catch hares and pigeons for their tables.

The Knight Protectors rarely hunted. They didn’t have the same urgency as the villagers to fill their larders, for King Timoken could multiply, and the food that was stored in the castle stock house could be doubled in less than a day.

At the base of the mountain, the trees began to thin; soon, only gorse and windblown thorn trees clung to the mountainside. A track made by wild goats led to the summit, where a covering of snow glistened in the sunlight.

Petrello was ahead when they began to ascend the mountain. He was looking up at the eagle hovering above him when he heard a shout. He looked back and saw his brother’s pony tossing its head. It stamped and gave a whinny of distress. Tolly had vanished.

Unable to turn his pony quickly on the narrow path, Petrello leaped off its back and ran down into the trees.

“Tolly! Tolomeo! Is this a joke? Answer me!”

A rock smacked into the back of Petrello’s head. He tried to keep his balance, but dizzy with pain he fell forward, his face buried in a thicket. Hands grabbed his ankles, small rough hands. He tried to turn his head but the pain was too great, and covering his face with an arm, he had to let his assailants drag him backward over the stony ground.

“Let me go!” Petrello shouted. “I have nothing.”

“You ain’t got your dignity, that’s for sure.” It was a boy’s voice, a boy no older than Petrello himself by the sound of it.

It’s a game,
thought Petrello. He almost relaxed, but then he became angry and yelled, “Stop this! I’m the king’s son.”

“We guessed that!” This was a different voice, pitched higher. Perhaps it belonged to a girl. She sounded hard and spiteful.

They began to tie Petrello’s ankles together, their small hands twisting the rope so tight his bones grated. As they pulled back his arms, he managed a quick look over his shoulder. He saw curtains of thick brown hair almost covering a pale face streaked with mud. The girl grinned, showing a toothless gap in her lower jaw. She couldn’t have been more than eight or nine.

Once his feet and hands were bound, Petrello was allowed to roll over. He found himself in a dark cave, the ceiling a damp rock veined in green moss. His brother lay in a corner. Tolly’s hands and feet were bound and his eyes were closed, but he appeared to be breathing.

“What have you done to my brother?” Petrello glared at the two ragged children grinning down at him.

“Knocked him on the head,” said the boy. He looked very like the girl, though his hair was shorter and his chin wider. “He’ll be all right,” went on the boy. “I’ve been hit on the head worse than he has, haven’t I, sis?”

“That you have. And you ain’t dead.” The girl cackled.

Tolly began to moan. His eyes opened and he mumbled, “What happened?”

“See?” said the girl. “I told you. He ain’t dead.”

Tolly began to wriggle into a sitting position. “Aw, my head. Trello, where are we?”

“You’d better ask them.” Petrello nodded at the two children.

Tolly looked up at the mud-streaked, smiling faces. “We can’t give you anything. We haven’t got money, or jewels.”

“You got ponies,” said the girl.

“I suppose you could take one,” Petrello said reluctantly. “But leave us the other, so we can get home.”

The boy pouted. “Don’t want your ponies.”

“What do you want, then?” Petrello wondered if he and Tolly were to be dragged away by the children’s family; bandits, no doubt. Would they be killed just for being the sons of a king?

“We want to come and live in your castle.” The girl had lost her smug little grin. She squatted in front of her brother and her voice became soft and confiding. “We’ve heard about the Red King who can multiply anything, so his people never go hungry. They say he can make rain come and go, and he talks to wolves and eagles and all sorts of animals, just like they were friends.”

“And thunder,” added the boy, kneeling beside his sister. “He can make clouds, can’t he, and rainbows? And we know about the castle that disappears….”

“And the loveliness inside.” The girl was almost crooning now. “And the fine clothes you wear. Look at your jackets, they’re like magic, not what normal people wear, even lords and ladies.”

“And your boots,” said the boy. “I wish I had those.”

“But we’re not going to take them,” the girl said quickly. “’Cos we’re proud. We just want to live in the Red Castle.”

“So we’re going to ransom you,” the boy said with satisfaction.

“Ransom?” Tolly and Petrello said together.

“Yeah. That’s right.” The girl’s eyes were shining now. “We send a note to the castle. We tell them we’ve got princes. But we’ll give them back if we can come and live in the castle.”

The brothers stared at the ragged children. Their sudden cheerfulness made Petrello feel uncomfortable. He had never given his clothes a thought, nor the food he ate. Were they so fine?

“You’ll have to write the letter,” said the boy, “because we can’t.”

“Have you been planning this for a long time?” Petrello asked thoughtfully.

“We saw you on your ponies with their fine harnessing and pretty saddlings,” said the girl. “And Gunfrid just thought of it. ‘Let’s catch them and ransom them,’ he said.”

“Because Zeba and me’d been wondering how we could get into your castle.” Gunfrid smiled. “And there you were.”

The boy looked so confident, Petrello felt sad. Their plan was hopeless. The two half-starved children would be caught by the guards as soon as they showed their faces. He shook his head. “It won’t work.”

“Will!” Gunfrid and Zeba shouted.

“You don’t know …” Gunfrid stopped and looked up at the roof of the cave. Dust fell onto his face and he sneezed.

A series of dull thuds echoed around the rocks. Hoofbeats. There was a horse above them.

Petrello opened his mouth, and then closed it. There could be worse than these children out in the forest. Zeba and Gunfrid were of the same mind, it seemed. They froze, their eyes wide with apprehension.

Tolly didn’t share their fears. “Here!” he shouted. “Help!”

Gunfrid brought up his fist, his face an angry red, but he didn’t hit Tolly. It was an empty threat.

Petrello peered through the low cave entrance. He could see the black legs of a horse but the rider was out of sight. Gunfrid and Zeba had their backs to the entrance. Now that Tolly had given them away, Petrello felt he had nothing to lose. “Here!” he shouted.

The man outside dropped to his knees and looked into the cave.

“Amadis!” cried the brothers.

In one glance, Amadis took in his brothers’ bound hands and feet and the two ragged children. “What mess have you got yourselves into, little brothers?” he said.

Gunfrid and Zeba scuttled over to the brothers. Gunfrid produced a small knife and held it to Tolly’s throat.

Amadis shook his head. “Boy, put down your knife!”

“I will not,” Gunfrid said defiantly. “I will cut your brother’s throat, if you … if you …” He looked imploringly at his sister, who shrugged her thin shoulders and grimaced.

Amadis made a strange noise in his throat. Petrello recognized the sound. He knew what would happen next.

The wolf, Greyfleet, slipped past Amadis and walked into the cave. Gunfrid and Zeba began to scream, even before the wolf revealed his long fangs.

“Hush,” said Amadis. “The wolf will not hurt you, but I suggest you use your knife to cut my brothers’ bonds. If you do not, Greyfleet here will be on you in a moment, and then nothing can save either of you.”

Zeba had wriggled into the darkest corner of the cave and there she stayed, her eyes never leaving the wolf.

Greyfleet moved not a muscle. Petrello and Tolly knew him well. He would do anything that Amadis asked of him, but he was a wild creature for all that, and would revert to his savage nature in a second.

Gunfrid rapidly cut through Tolly’s bonds, but when he began to sever the rope around Petrello’s ankles, his small hands began to shake.

“Don’t cut my flesh, I beg you,” said Petrello with a laugh.

He had hoped to calm the boy with a joke, but there was a sob in Gunfrid’s voice when he replied, “I don’t mean to cut. I’m doing my best.” He crawled around Petrello and quickly released the hands tied behind his back.

Bending his head to avoid hitting the low cave roof, Petrello moved swiftly past the wolf and joined his brothers outside.

The two children sat very close to each other, staring at the wolf. Greyfleet still hadn’t moved. When Amadis made a sound low in his throat, Greyfleet’s ears flicked. He turned and loped out of the cave. Amadis touched the wolf’s head as he passed and then Greyfleet was gone, gliding into the trees until he became one of the many shadows that moved incessantly across the forest floor.

“I found your ponies,” Amadis told his brothers. “We’d best be getting home.”

“You can’t go home, Amadis,” Petrello said gravely. “That’s why we’re here. We came to warn you.”

Amadis gave Petrello a quizzical look. “You speak in riddles, brother. What do you mean?”

Tolly said breathlessly, “The guard on the South Gate has accused you of being in league with the bellman’s abductors.”

Amadis did something unexpected. He chuckled.