The infant prodigy grew apace.
"He's growing apace," remarked Toppard, on one of his visits to Granny Grimpmyre's room. "We
really must decide on a name for him."
Since the duchess had cloistered herself away with the Little Sisters of Light, the duke had
returned to his rooms in the castle, and took an erratic but affectionate interest in the
child's development. The baby lay in his cradle with Bilbil curled up comfortably at his feet.
The little dragon had taken to the child as if he were his own, and refused to let him out of
his sight.
Clarence peered over the edge of the cradle. Consumed by childish curiosity about his baby
brother, he had none of the average adult's horror of deformity or anything unnatural. "Will
he always have that hump on his shoulder?" he asked.
"Aye, that he will, poor little bunch-backed toad," replied Granny.
The sun's rays were refracted through the bottles containing the spiders, which were ranged
along the windowsill, and cast rainbow shards on the cradle and its occupants. The dragon's
scales glistened with the colours, but the baby seemed to attract only the distorted shadows
of the spiders.
"Will he be able to walk properly?" asked Erryl. Like his father, he accepted the baby's
deformities as a sad fact of his life, and showed a touching concern for his youngest brother's
well-being.
"He'll walk, ducks, don't you worry about that," said Granny with great confidence.
"What are we going to call him?" asked Clarence.
"He's Granny's little bottled spyder," said Granny. She always spelt spider with a "y" instead
of an "i", so she also said it that way - not that it made any difference to the sound of the
word - it was just the way she thought of it.
"Bott-spyder!" said a high-pitched, nasal voice.
"Who said that?" asked Toppard, looking round in astonishment.
"Bott-spyder!" repeated the voice.
"It's the baby!" exclaimed Clarence, staring open-mouthed into the cradle.
The others gathered round to look.
"Bottspyder!" repeated the baby.
"But he's not old enough to talk!" protested Erryl.
"You try telling him that!" chortled Granny.
"Bottspyder!" said the child with increasing confidence. "Bottspyder! Bottspyder!"
And from then on his name was Bottspyder.
***
"An ugly name for an ugly monster," declared Margaret when she heard about it.
The mother superior sighed, shook her head, and gently rubbed her still heavily-bandaged finger.
"Have you considered my request, mother?" asked the duchess, who was dressed in the cream robes
of a novice of the Little Sisters of Light. Although still very thin, she had lost the
corpse-like appearance which had so concerned everyone at the time of her last childbirth, and
now she exhibited a quiet serenity which fitted well with her new attire.
"You wish to become a Little Sister of Light?" said the mother superior.
"Yes, mother." Margaret no longer displayed the patrician arrogance that had made her such a
forbidding figure in the past, but her violet eyes had lost none of their intensity, and hinted
at a force which would still be difficult to withstand if unleashed against an opponent. At the
moment it was but a faint ember, and mother superior was untouched by its fire.
"Are you sure about this? Have you fully considered all the consequences of such an act?"
"I have thought about little else since I came here. It is the only way."
The two women stared at each other for a long time in silence, neither flinching, and both aware
of the terrible secret they shared under the seal of confession.
"Very well," said the mother superior at last. "You may begin your initiation tomorrow."
***
"Where des that leave our marriage?" asked Toppard.
"When the duchess takes her final vows, you will be free to marry again, should you wish,"
replied the mother superior, once again wedged uncomfortably in a chair in the duke's apartments.
"Won't she let me speak to her?" asked the duke woefully.
"I'm afraid not, your grace. But she asked me to tell you that her decision is in no way a
reflection on you. It is something that she must do, for reasons that she cannot reveal - ever."
Toppard stared at the woman in total bafflement, shook his head, and sighed heavily. "Well, she
must do ... what she must do, I suppose - though it's all quite beyond me. And what am I going
to tell the children? And what about young Bottspyder?"
The mother superior lowered her eyes to her bandaged finger and remained silent.
***
The following summer Gilbert Rampion was knighted.
"Congratulations, Sir Gilbert," said Sir Edmund Gargrave after the ceremony was over.
"Thank you, Sir Edmund," smiled Gilbert, too delighted with his new title to notice Edmund's
sneering tone.
But it was not lost on Mirdalph, who was standing close to the young men, and listeneing
surreptitiously to their conversation.
"No more running about after the Duke of Yeoveld. I'm sure that must come as a great relief."
Edmund's hooded eyes stared quizically at the new-made knight.
"I have been very happy in the service of the duke," responded Gilbert stiffly. He began to pull
off the mailed gauntlets which were part of the obligatory ceremonial armour inside which he was
running with rivers of sweat in the summer heat.
"Well," smiled Edmund thinly, "at least you won't have to play nanny to those cousins of mine
any more. The brats can be something of a strain, I imagine." He glanced furtively round the
crowded hall and lowered his voice. "And you won't have to nursemaid that monster my aunt has
spawned."
Mirdalph watched with concern as Gilbert was about to spring to the defence of the duke's family,
but before the young knight could speak, Erryl came charging up to him, slapped him on his
armoured back and said, "You won't be able to play nanny to Clarry and me any more now, will
you?"
Edmund's smile was almost an expression of humour, but Mirdalph suspected it was not the kind of
humour anyone else would want to share. Ratlett appeared beside the dungeonmaster and the two of
them drifted away to a more secluded corner of the chamber.
"Can I be your squire?" asked Erryl.
"That depends on what your father says," replied Gilbert. "He may have other plans for you."
"He'll agree!" proclaimed Erryl confidently. "And you'll have to think about getting married now,
won't you?" he added.
"And leave all the wenches in the castle to you?" grinned Gilbert.
"Of course."
"We'll see." Gilbert's smile faded slowly.
"Is there someone?" asked Erryl, watching the change in his friend's expression.
"There might have been," replied Gilbert, removing his plumed helmet and shaking his golden hair
free, A wistful look crept across his face as he dreamed of a dark-eyed girl singing by the side
of a road in the forest.
***
Jayne Fforde-Goffington stared up at the dusty canopy over her bed and sighed as she dreamed of
a golden-haired young squire riding towards her along a road in the forest. She was not exactly
unhappy in her marriage. Sir Caspar generally left her alone, and when he did fumble his way into
her bed he was rarely able to fulfil his own expetations and deliver the answer to a maiden's
prayer.
She had excused herself from the morning's discussion of the week's menus with the cook, on the
pretext of having a headache, and retired to the solitude of her room. Suddenly she rose form
the bed, pulled on a pair of riding boots, and slipped quietly down the servants' stairs to the
stable, where she ordered a horse to be saddled, and then rode out towards the Hollwood Forest,
leaving behind the rambling agglomeration of towers and turrets that was the Fforde-Goffington
mansion.
***
"You'll have to attend all those boring meetings of the council now!" roared Toppard as he
swept across the hall in the ceremonial robes which had adorned his person as lord protector
while he bestowed Gilbert's knighthood on him in the absence of the king. The duke flung his
great arm round the shoulders of his former squire, and have him a bear-like hug which badly
dented his armour. "What's it feel like to be a knight, eh?"
"I've hardly had time to adjust to it yet, your grace."
"No more of that!" roared his grace. "It's Toppard form now on!"
"Thank you, your gra- Toppard."
"Can I be Gilbert's squire?" asked Erryl eagerly.
"I don't see why not," replied Toppard, "always assuming that he wants you!"
"Of course he does - don't you, Gilbert?"
"I would be most happy," smiled Gilbert.
"Then that's settled!" Erryl grinned broadly.
"Now we'd better start looking for a wife for you, hadn't we?" said Toppard. "A hot-blooded
young man like you needs a wife!" He glanced across at Edmund, who was still deep in
conversation with Ratlett in a secluded corner of the hall. "Not like that thin blooded excuse
for a knight with that pet rat of his," he snorted dismissively.
Gilbert wiped the stream of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and smiled politely.
"Hot, isn't it?" said Toppard, "I'll be glad to get out of these blasted robes. And you look as
if you're boiling in that armour. You can get out of it now, you know - the ceremony's over. Off
you go! You can do what you like for the rest of the day."
"Thank you, your grace - Toppard!"
The duke smiled his huge smile, nodded, clapped Gilbert again on his dented shoulder, and swept
away across the hall.
"Let's go for a swim," suggested Erryl.
"Great idea!" agreed Gilbert.
"Congratulations, what!" said Sir Crispin Urswick before they could move. The master of arms
was also in full armour, and his crimson face suggested that he too was nearly at boiling point.
"Thank you, Sir Crispin," said Gilbert.
"We're going for a swim," announced Erryl. "Why don't you come too?"
Sir Crispin glanced round and pulled at his moustache: "Well - I don't think - what?"
"Oh, come on!" urged Erryl.
"Yes," agreed Gilbert, "it's just what you need after being stuck in that armour all morning."
"You're absolutely right, what?" and Sir Crispin smiled for the first time since Nanny Comfrey
had so mysteriously disappeared.
***
Mirdalph hung back in the stables with his horse, while Gilbert, Erryl and Sir Crispin left the
castle, then he rode away in the direction of the Hollwood Forest. For once the furtive Edmund
and Ratlett were not there to observe his departure. They were making their own unobserved way
down towards the catacombs.
***
Jayne's horse sauntered unguided through the mottled light beneath the lofty canopy of trees.
Jayne herself was lost in thought, until her attention was attracted by the sound of running
water. She guided her horse towards the sound and found herself in a clearing where a bubbling
brook flowed into a large pool whose water sparkled and glittered invitingly in the afternoon
sunshine.
It took Jayne only a moment to glance round at the masking trees and make up her mind. In
another moment she had dismounted, tethered her horse to a convenient bush, and was wading naked
into the cool water to swim away from the rush-lined bank and all thoughts of her home and its
responsibilities.
***
A mile or so upstream from Middenburgh, Gilbert, Erryl and Sir Crispin turned off the path and
made their way down to the bank of the river. Above the city the water of the Knapwell was clear
and smooth-flowing, and Gilbert had often brought Erryl here to swim on the hot afternoons of
his childhood summers.
It was only a matter of minutes before the two youths were stripped naked and splashing joyfully
in the water. Sir Crispin hung back, reluctant to shed his middle-aged dignity.
"Come on!" shouted Erryl, "the water's lovely!" He splashed a great fountain over Gilbert, who
dived onto him with a roar and they both disappeared in a cascade of water and shrieking
laughter.
Sir Crispin glanced round, shrugged, and cast aside his dignity with his clothes, to join them
in the sparkling, sunkissed water.
***
The lantern gave barely adequate illumination in the chambers of death where Ratlett led Edmund
past the remains of the kings of Erraflynn.
"Are you sure you know where you're going?" asked the dungeonmaster suspiciously.
"Oh, yes, your lordship," replied the youth. "Here's a map for you. See - this is where we are
at the moment. He pointed to a spot on the intricate network of tunnels and chambers sketched on
the grubby sheet of parchment which he handed to Edmund.
"And where is this exit you claim to have found?"
"Here." Ratlett indicated another point on the map.
"Well, it has certainly taken you long enough - it must be over a year now."
"You won't be disappointed, your lordship," Ratlett assured him.
"I hope not," whispered Edmund, "for your sake."
Ratlett smiled quietly to himself and led the dungeonmaster past the crumbling tombs and
scattered skeletons, taking great care to avoid the chamber in which was buried the corpse of
King Hackard Erraflynn III.
***
King Hackard's son, Deramo - known to the few who ever came into contact with him as Tom Candy -
was also growing apace. Well into his fourth year, he was talking happily to himself and toddling
about the forest clearing where his only known home was situated, watched over with glowing
love by his supposed mother, Widow Candy.
"There's no need to ask how you both are," said a deep voice, and Mirdalpy rode out from among
the trees.
"Nuncle Mirdalph!" exclaimed the infant, and toddled towards the magician, who dismounted and
swept him up in his arms to carry him over to the cottage, where he sank down onto the wooden
bench outside the window. His horse was left to graze unfettered on the lush grass of the
clearing.
"I'm getting too old for all this galloping around in secret," he complained.
Widow Candy put down her knitting and smiled her rosy smile. "I'll make you a nice cup of tea,"
she said, and disappeared into the cottage. Mirdalph heaved himself up and followed her inside,
carrying Tom with him.
"How are things at court?" asked the widow, busily preparing the tea.
"Not good," replied the magician. "Toppard's doing his best, but I don't think he's aware of
the factions which are developing between some of the knights. A strong king could do something
about it, but Toppard's not the man for it. And you're far too young, aren't you, my boy?" He
bounced Tom up and down on his knee to the accompaniment of squeals of laughter.
"What factions do yu mean?" asked the widow.
"There's nothing definite, but Edmund Gargrave has obviously taken against the newly-knighted
Gilbert Rampion."
"Young Gilbert? But he's a lovely young man, and always so polite."
"Yes, I know. He's not to blame - I don't think he's even aware of it - but something unpleasant
will come of it in the end. That Edmund is a creature of dark corners and devious shifts. I
don't know what he's up to, but very little happens in the castle that he doesn't eventually
find out about. I fear he may already suspect something of what has happened to you and young
Tom, here."
"He hasn't found out where we are, has he?"
"Not yet. He was not around when I left today, but he and that Ratlett creature he has taken up
from the sewers are always sneaking around watching me. They think I haven't noticed. We must
prepare to move you both if they ever come too near to finding out the truth. That's why I've
come here now - to make the arrangements."
Widow Candy pursed her lips and said, "That Edmund Gargrave always looked to me as if he had
just crawled out form under a stone!"
***
In a clearing near the edge of the Hollwood Forest, Edmund Gargrave crawled out from under a
stone and looked round with considerable satisfaction. "So this is where it comes out?" he
hissed. "Most interesting."
Ratlett scrambled out after him, "Yes, your lordship." I thought you'd be pleased."
"Indeed I am. Now I wonder why the magician should bring Nanny what's-her-name to the forest,
and hide her away where no-one can find her? Could it have something to do with the
disappearance of the king?" He tapped his thin cheek with his thin finger and pondered the
matter for amoment, then turned to his companion and said, "I don't suppose you ...?
"No, sir, I'm afraid not. I'm a city boy, and tracking in the country is not something I -"
"No matter," whispered Edmund. "I'm sure we will find out sooner or later." He looked at the
piece of parchment in his hand. "This map of yours could prove invaluable to me."
Ratlett smiled his rat-trap smile.
***
"This is the life, what?" sighed Sir Crispin in satisfaction. He was lying on his back, stark
naked in the late afternoon sunshine, beside the equally naked Gilbert and Erryl. All threee
were drying and dozing after their boisterous exertions in the river, and life seemed warm and
good to them.
***
The great hall of the Fforde-Goffington manor was a bleak, cold place, even on a sunny, summer
evening.
"Where have you been?" snapped Sir Caspar, when Jayne entered to take her place at his side for
the evening meal.
"I went for a ride," she replied.
"I thought you had a headache," sniffed the old man testily.
"That's why I went for a ride - to help to clear it."
"Well, don't do it again!"
Jayne lowered her eyes, knowing that, whatever her husband said, she would do it again.
***
Late the following afternoon, Mirdalph rode wearily into the foothills of the Mandrake
Mountains, which bordered the Hollwood Forest to the north-east, and formed the boundary of the
Kingdom of Erraflynn in that area. He dismounted and led his horse among the huge rocks and
stones which thrust up through the ground with increasing profusion.
Eventually he reached what looked like a solid wall of rock, towering up like a natural
fortress in the stony wilderness. He led his horse along the foot of the wall until he
reached an overhanging ledge where he stopped and released the animal to graze on the sparse
vegetation.
The magician cupped his hands round his mouth and made a strange whistling sound which echoed
penetratingly among the rocks. After a moment's silence the whistle was answered from somewhere
within the rock, and then a small figure appeared on the ledge above Mirdalph's head.
"Oh, it's you," said Griddle in some surprise. "We weren't expecting you. There's nothing the
matter, is there?"
Pot appeared a this side. "Young Tom's all right, isn't he?" he asked anxiously.
"Everything's all right at the moment," Mirdalph reassured them. "It's the future I've come to
talk to you about."
"Hang on a minute," said Griddle, and the two dwarves disappeared from view. Then a stout, rope
ladder descended from the ledge, and Mirdalph climbed up to join them.
***
"Let's all go for a picnic!" boomed Toppard one sunny morning a few weeks later as he burst
into Granny Grimpmyre's room, where Clarence and Erryl were about to begin their lessons for
the day.
"Wow! A picnic!" exclaimed Clarence.
"Great!" agreed Erryl.
"I'll make some nice pork sandwiches." volunteered Granny.
"Good," boomed Toppard. "The kitchen is providing some salmon ones - and buns and beer and wine
and so on. We'll need a few servants to carry things -"
"Don't you worry, ducks," said Granny. "We won't need no servants - I can do all that."
"Can I ride your broomstick?" asked Clarence.
The broomstick behind the door crackled and sparked excitedly.
"We don't want any of that sort of thing!" growled Toppard uncomfortably. "What would people
think?"
The broomstick stopped crackling and looked distinctly sulky.
Baby Bottspyder smiled his sharp-toothed smile from the bearskin rug where he was dismembering
a battered toy soldier, and Bilbil burbled in eager anticipation of the outing.
"Can Gilbert come?" asked Erryl.
"Of course!" replied his father. "And dig out good old Crispin as well!"
***
An hour later the picnid party was gathered in the courtyard and ready to set off. Toppard,
Gilbert, Sir Crispin and Erryl were on horseback, while Granny was ready to drive an open wagon
in which Clarence and Bilbil were watching over hampers, bottles of wine and kegs of beer, which
the old witch had magically persuaded to load themselves, along with a large basket in which lay
Bottspyder.
A thin, pale face peered out at them from one of the windows overlooking the courtyard, and was
spotted by Toppard as he wheeled his horse round towards the gate. "There's Edmund, lurking in
the shadows as usual!" he roared. "Come and join us, nephew! We're going on a picnic!"
Edmund looked highly embarrassed at being spotted. "Really, uncle, I'd rather not," came his
penetrating whisper.
"Nonsense! You're not going to turn down an invitation from the lord protector, are you?"
Although Toppard was as jovial as ever, there was an edge to his voice which suggested that
this could become a major confrontation if Edmund persisted in his refusal, and the
dungeonmaster would not emerge the winner. "You can bring that Rat-what's-his-name as well.
A bit of fresh air and sunshine will do you both the world of good. You spend far too much
time sneaking about in those dungeons of yours!"
Edmund smiled weakly and said, "As you say, your grace."
When he emerged from the castle he was followed, as always, by Ratlett, and both of them wore
set expressions which suggested that the last thing that would do either of them the world of
good was a bit of fresh air and sunshine.
"You can travel in the wagon with Granny Grimp!" announced Toppard. "Save time saddling up
horses for you."
"That's right, ducks," chortled the old crone, "plenty of room for you, up you get!"
So up they got and off they went.
***
As the wagon trundled along behind the party of horsemen, Edmund found his attention riveted
by the baby in the basket. Despite the fact that Bottspyder was his cousin, he had never seen
him close to before, and was now morbidly fascinated by his deformities.
"Edmund!" said Bottspyder suddenly in his high-pitched, nasal voice. "Edmund! Edmund!"
Edmund was startled out of his usual composure. "He - he can talk!" he exclaimed.
"Course he can!" chortled Granny over her shoulder as she guided the horses through the narrow
streets of the city. "He's Granny's clever little darling," She looked at Edmund with a wicked
twinkle in her eyes, and added, "Why don't you hold him for a while, ducks?"
"Oh, no, I couldn't -" But before he had time to protest further, Edmund found himself staring
into the baby's yellow eyes and reaching out to cradle the twisted infant in his arms.
Ratlett, wedged in a corner of the wagon between the hampers and beer kegs, watched fascinated
as his master's eyes took on a dreamy, distant look, almost like one hypnotised.
The picnic procession entered the Hollwood Forest and followed a track away from the main path.
Eventually it came upon a clearing which Toppard pronounced suitable for the picnic, and a halt
was called.
"I want to play hide-and-seek!" announced Clarence, so Gilbert and Erryl were quickly enlisted
to that end. Edmund was still under the spell of the baby, and hardly noticed what was happening
as Granny guided him out of the wagon to sit in the shade of one of the trees. Bilbil was at his
side, keeping a protective eye on Bottspyder.
"Do you want to play?" Clarence cautiously asked Ratlett, whom he hardly knew and had never
spoken to before.
Ratlett nodded, and the four of them set off among the trees.
"Don't go too far away!" called Granny. "You never know what might be lurking in the forest!"
She then turned to the wagon and began waving her hands about and muttering strange incantations
to the accompaniment of which the picnic paraphernalia unloaded itself and spread itself out on
the grassy ground, much to the discomfiture of Toppard and Sir Crispin, who didn't hold with
all that sort of thing.
"I want to hide first!" announced Clarence, predictably enough. The others closed their eyes and
counted to a hundred, then began to search for him - except for Ratlett, who just watched him
hide in a large hazel thicket, then wandered off in the opposite direction to find a suitably
concealed spot from which to observe Edmund, who was still nursing Bottspyder.
Erryl found his brother and was immediately required to hide himself. As Ratlett was nowhere
to be seen, Clarence and Gilbert went through the ritual of counting and embarking upon the
search.
While the others were counting, Erryl sprinted off through the trees until he was well out of
sight and hearing, then slowed down and wandered aimlessly wherever his fancy took him. He
made no attempt to hide, and was enjoying the solitude and freedom too much to care whether
he got lost.
***
"Food!" bellowed Toppard, and Clarence quickly appeared, followed by Gilbert.
"Where's Master Erryl?" asked Sir Crispin.
"He's hiding," replied Clarence.
"We couldn't find him," added Gilbert.
"Never mind, ducks," said Granny. "He always turns up then he gets hungry."
"Where's Ratlett?" whispered Edmund, released at last from Bottspyder's spell as Granny took
the child from him.
"Here I am, your lordship," said Ratlett, appearing immediately beside Edmund and making him
jump.
"Right," said Toppard, "let's get stuck in, shall we? Who's for salmon and who's for pork?"
Gilbert was next to him and was offered the plate of sandwiches first. "I'll have salmon," he
said, then passed the plate to Edmund.
"In that case, I'll have pork," he whispered in a voice that brought a sudden, icy chill to the
proceedings. Nobody present was unaware of the implied insult of the statement, and even Gilbert
registered the venom with which the pale-faced dungeonmaster looked at him. Suddenly, and quite
unexpectedly, the choice of sandwiches had taken on a deeper and more fateful implication.
The plate went round the circle, and each member of the party declared implied allegiance to
one or other of the young knights by choosing the appropriate sandwiches.
"Salmon for me, what?" said Sir Crispin.
"I think I'll have pork, if you don't mind, ducks," said Granny, in a tone that suggested it was
all the same if he did mind.
Bilbil, who was sitting on Granny's shoulder, thrust his long neck forward and grabbed a pork
sandwich with his sharp teeth.
"Can't you keep that creature away from the food - what?" asked Sir Crispin irritably.
Granny grinned wickedly and said nothing.
Bottspyder reached out his right hand and firmly grasped a pork sandwich, almost as if he
understood the implications of what he was doing.
"That's Granny's little darling," said the old witch, "but you can't manage that just yet.
Granny's got a nice bowl of frogspawn for you." (It wasn't really frogspawn - it just looked
like it.)
"Frogspawn! Frogspawn!" cried the infant, and threw the sandwich at Sir Crispin, who ducked so
that it landed some way behind him, where it was immediately swooped on and demolished by three
shrieking magpies.
Ratlett took the plate, smirked at Gilbert, and took a pork sandwich.
When the plate reached Clarence it stopped while he looked round at everyone. He knew something
was going on, but was not old enough to understand what it was. In the end he said, "I'll have
one of each."
"Salmon for me!" boomed Toppard, and that was the end of it - for the moment.
***
Erryl suddenly realised that he was lost, and even more important, he was both hungry and
thirsty. He wandered on aimlessly throught the trees until he heard the faint sound of running
water. At least that was something definite to aim for, and would provide him with the means of
quenching his thirst, so he set off towards the source of the sound.
Eventually he came upon a clearing where a small stream gurgled into a large pool. He was about
to make for the water when he noticed a riderless horse grazing at the opposite side of the
clearing. He stopped by a large tree and scanned the area for the rider. A pile of clothes lay
by the the pool, and there, in the water, was the owner of the clothes and the horse - a girl
with long, fair hair, a pretty, round face, and large, dark eyes.
Erryl forgot his hunger and thirst. He grinned broadly, took off all his clothes, and slipped
silently into the water, unobserved as yet by the girl.
***
"What the devil is Erryl up to?" asked Toppard.
"Boys will be boys," observed Granny sagely.
"We'll have to go soon," grumbled Toppard. "If he doesn't come back quickly, what shall we do
about him?"
"It's all right, your gr - Toppard," said Gilbert, "I'll wait for him."
Edmund eyed the new knight malevolently. He had never been accorded the privilege of calling
the duke by his first name, even though they were related.
***
Jayne wandered into the dining hall that evening with a faraway, dreamy look in her eyes, and
a smile on her lips that her husband had never seen before.
"Where have you been?" he demanded pettishly. "I thought I told you not to go out by yourself
again."
Jayne continued to smile, untouched by anything that Sir Caspar could do or say.
***
Erryl was also smiling when he eventually arrived back at the picnic clearing, which he found
mainly as a result of his father's bull-like bellowing of his name.
"Where have you been?" roared the duke, and clouted him round the head.
Erryl hardly noticed the blow. "I got lost," he replied.
"Here," said Granny, "have a sandwich," She held out a plate on which were the few remaining
sandwiches, with their edges beginning to curl.
"The pork is very nice," announced Edmund unexpectedly.
"The salmon's better," said Gilbert, equally unexpectedly.
Erryl reached out to take a sandwich, but stopped as he realised that everyone was looking at
him.
"Try the pork," persisted Edmund.
"You'll like the salmon much better." Gilbert was watching him intently, and Erryl realised that
something important depended on his choice.
"I'll have salmon," he announced after a moment's consideration, and there was an audible sigh
from Gilbert, Sir Crispin, and even Toppard.
Granny smiled wickedly and Edmund turned away with a nasty sneer on his thin lips.
***
A few days after the picnic, Edmund and Ratlett were seen about the castle sporting brand new,
embroidered badges on their tunics. The badges showed an heraldic, gold pig on a blood red
background. the significance of this was apparent to all, for the sandwich business had somehow
been broadcast throughout the castle within hours of the return of the participants, though it
became much elaborated in the telling - even to the point of blows having been struck.
Shortly afterwards, Gilbert and Erryl were seen wearing badges showing a silver salmon leaping
against a sky-blue background.
Within weeks almost every inhabitant of the castle, from the nobility down to the meanest menial,
had become associated with one or other of the parties: pigs (or boars, as they preferred to be
called), and salmon. Toppard refused to associate himself publicly with either party, but
everyone knew that he favoured Gilbert and the salmon.
***
"That's wonderful news, my dear!" cried Sir Caspar when Jayne announced to him that she was
pregnant. "Here, you must sit down. Can I get you anything?"
He had long ago abandoned any real hopes of fathering a child, though he had never quite
abandoned his attempts to do so, and this announcement brought out in him instant qualities of
care and consideration that his wife had not known he possessed.
There were those in the Fforde-Goffington household who questioned - very quietly, of course -
the child's parentage, but Sir Caspar was not among them.
***
"It's a bad business," said Mirdalph to Sir Crispin as they drank a cask of ale togehter in the
armoury one evening.
"What?"
"This dividing into factions. No good will come of it - and I'm surprised to see you involvd."
The master of arms was wearing a silver salmon on his studded, leather tunic.
"Can't stand that thin-faced, thin-blooded Gargrave fellow, what? Or that sneaky little Ratlett
of his - always popping up where you least expact him!"
The magician sighed and shook his head. "Blood will be the end of it, I fear!"
Outside in the gloomy corridor, sneaky little Ratlett sneaked away with a malicious grin on his
rodent face.
