Part 19 (1/2)

'None at all.' Elen gave him a stony look. 'I hate a coward,' she said haughtily.

Dido had more sympathy towards the wretched lad. She remembered how she herself felt about spiders.

'Never mind, Mr Mully,' she said. 'Done's done. Best you can do now, if there's ever a chance, is get away and give the alarm which way we've gone.'

However it seemed he was not to be given the chance. After they had walked what seemed three or four miles, but was probably less, along dark narrow ascending galleries, they came to a much larger cavern, where the high regular walls showed the scarred signs of workings. Probably silver-mines, Dido guessed; there were pickaxes and sections of machinery lying here and there. An underground river crossed their path and had to be crossed by a series of square stepping-stones which had evidently been set there for the purpose.

Not far from this point the river apparently plunged over a cliff into a gorge; they could hear the roar of a waterfall and see spray rising. Dido's hooded guard nodded towards Mr Multiple and indicated the falls.

Toss him over there. He is no further use to us. His body will never be found in here.

'No! You can't do that!' exclaimed Dido in horror.

Mr Multiple yelled and struggled unavailingly as four of the hooded captors dragged him towards the gorge while the rest of the party proceeded swiftly on their way. Dido heard the unfortunate mids.h.i.+pman's voice raised in a final shriek of despair; and soon afterwards his a.s.sa.s.sins rejoined the other group, which had reached the terminal point of a strange little conveyance, evidently used for transporting ore through the galleries of the mine. It was a series of open cars, linked together, which ran along above a single track, or rather groove, in the rock floor; this groove emitted steam, which somehow propelled the cars by turning a rotor which engaged with the wheels. Cap'n Hughes would go crazy over it, Dido thought glumly, as she and Elen were thrust into a car with two of their captors (each car held no more than four persons, and that was a tight squeeze); a lever was pulled to start the train, which moved off slowly but by degrees built up a terrifying speed so that they hurtled hissing through the darkness, rocking and swaying from side to side.

'Keep your head down,' Dido's guard curtly warned her, 'or you're liable to get your brains dashed out.'

She followed this advice and huddled on the floor of the car, a prey to the most dismal thoughts. Mr Multiple's dreadful fate had upset her horribly; he was a decent, kind-hearted boy, she thought, not a mite of harm in him, not his fault he didn't like snakes; and they tossed him over the cliff without giving two thoughts to the matter, as if he'd been an apple core!

It was stiflingly hot in this part of the mountain. The air, such as there was, smelt very bad, of hot metal, aged rock, and sulphureous steam; what with that, and the train's see-saw, oscillating motion, Dido began, after an hour or so, to feel very sick indeed. Her head throbbed, and she had to keep swallowing; but she had nothing to swallow with; her mouth felt as dry as stale bread. The guards' lanterns had long ago blown out, in the wind of their progress, and she could not even see Elen, but groped about and found her hand. She feared that the princess only just rescued from that cave -must feel even worse; and indeed Elen's hand seemed alarmingly cold and limp, returning only the faintest pressure in response to Dido's.

After an immense interval Dido thought she might have slipped into a kind of faint, the time slid past in feverish fits and starts as it does during illness they came out into larger, lighter galleries, past gleaming piles of silver ore and uncut gemstones awaiting carriage to the outer world. At last the train began to slow down, and finally drew to a stop. The lanterns were lit again.

Dido's guard had pushed back his hood during the journey, and she saw that he was the Grand Inquisitor, Dafydd Gomez. The person holding Elen was likewise revealed as the Vicar General, Fluellen. Might have guessed those old ravens would get on it somehow, Dido thought dejectedly, letting herself be pushed out of the car on to a rock platform.

The hiss of the train died away and instead Dido heard another familiar voice.

'So you have got them! Just as well one part of the business has gone right.'

Another masked cloaked figure, unmistakable none the less, by its smallness, as Lady Ettarde, hobbled along the platform. She took off her mask to glower at the two exhausted girls. She was accompanied by old Mrs Morgan.

'Why, what has gone wrong?' demanded Fluellen.

Those fools have let Hughes and my nephew escape from the Wen Pendragon.'

'Holy Sul! I didn't think it could have been done. Where are they now?'

She shrugged.

'Who knows? Gone into the mountains. Very likely the Aurocs will get them. But on account of that, Her Mercy needs new hostages, as a lever against anything Mabon may try. And she is becoming very impatient. Come along, you!' she said to Dido and Elen.

The girls were jerked and jostled to the foot of a steep winding stair, and obliged to climb it. In their dazed and fainting state they made very slow progress; Mrs Morgan, behind them, kept up a continual angry mutter: 'Git along, git along, then, me little runaway darlings ' on the word darlings she poked Dido with what felt like a bodkin 'Her Mercy'll be happy to see you again, that's one thing certain.'

They arrived at the top of the long climb with knees that felt like wool.

Now, to Dido's utter amazement, she recognised her surroundings; the stair had brought them into one of the ante-chambers of Bath Palace. Who'd a thought we had come so far? she thought. So the queen has her own private way into the silver-mines. Very handy for her any time she wants a new pair of earrings.

Lady Ettarde halted her prisoners at the foot of the grand staircase.

'Now listen to me, you two!' she hissed. Despite her small stature she looked extremely formidable.

'First, don't think you will be so lucky as to escape a second time! My brother himself will guard you this time. Clever as you may think you are, once you are in the city of Sul, he and his catamountain will be more than a match for you.'

Neither of the girls made any reply. They were still getting their breath after the punis.h.i.+ng climb.

'Idiot!' snapped Lady Ettarde to the Grand Inquisitor. 'Why did you not take some rumirumi flowers with you? Her Grace will not be best pleased to see them so fatigued.'

Dido had a recollection of Mrs Morgan saying, 'She don't like them if they're droopy.'

When Lady Ettarde turned to continue on up the grand stair, Dido whispered to Elen, 'Droop as much as you can. Pretend to feel even worse than you do!'

They were led along the curving gallery towards the throne room. But halfway along the gallery Lady Ettarde halted them once more, ostensibly to let them get their breath, in reality to whisper menacingly, 'Don't tell the queen that Rex Atahallpa is back.'

'Who?'

'Atahallpa. Artaius. Don't tell her.'

'Why not?' said Dido sourly.

'Because if she knows that he is back, and has not made haste to join her, she will be so angry that she will probably have your tongues cut out on the spot.'

'But why should you care?' said Dido. Partly she was playing for time; anything to keep the old witch talking; but also she wondered why it mattered to Lady Ettarde.

'Never you mind!' rasped the Mistress of the Robes, and hobbled on again.

As Dido followed, the answer came to her. Of course she don't want Mr Holystone to turn up here and settle down as Queen Ginevra's ever-loving husband. Because when he does, it's crowns to cake-crumbs as her turn'll be over; the queen won't pay heed to her any more. Likely she's sorry he ever came back, and wishes him at Jericho.

Now they were led into the queen's presence.

Ginevra hardly seemed to have moved since Dido saw her last. She still reclined, fatly, in her loose white gown, among cobwebby grey curtains. But she looked older, Dido thought; her face was drawn and haggard, there was no coyness or sentimentality about it today. Her eyes were strangely dull; except that every now and then, even though she was not wearing her gla.s.ses, they suddenly, for a moment, would become purely reflectors and mirror the scene in front of her. This, when it happened, was horribly disconcerting, as if she had stopped being a real person at all, and was just a piece of machinery, mechanically carrying out her own wishes.

'Here are the two girls, Your Mercy,' said Lady Ettarde. 'Mabon's daughter and the other one.'

Ginevra did not show any particular triumph or pleasure. Her head turned slowly, surveying the girls; her eyes played their odd trick, s.h.i.+ning, turning gla.s.sy; then, after a moment, they became eyes again, and she said, 'Has Mabon returned my lake?'

Lady Ettarde looked inquiringly at the Grand Inquisitor, who had followed them. He said, 'Your Mercy, he has begun sending it back. It is being flown over the mountains in leather water-skins, borne by small air-balloons. The thongs are waxed, so that they melt and discharge their contents into the lake-basin.' He had made this report in a dispa.s.sionate, formal manner, but he concluded with some enthusiasm, 'And I must say, it was a capital notion of King Mabon's! Highly ingenious! He must have some excellent designers. As I have often said to Your Mercy, if he were only our ally -'

'Quiet, fool! How long will it take? How soon will the lake be filled again?'

'At the rate the water-skins are discharging, I would guess, about thirty-six hours, Ma'am.'

Now Elen spoke up.

'How dare you take us prisoner, when my father has honourably fulfilled his undertaking to return the lake?'

Her voice was brave, but she flinched a little when the queen turned those gla.s.sy eyes on her.

Ginevra did not address her, however, but said to Lady Ettarde, 'When is the new moon?'

'In three days, Your Mercy.'