Crossing To Paradise by Kevin Crossley-Holland Page A

came running up behind Nest at the back of the group.
    The younger one brushed past her left arm; the other whisked the leather strap off her right shoulder and ripped away her pouch.
    Nest shrieked; the pilgrims turned round to see what had happened; the two young boys just kept running.
    â€œI’ll get them!” yelled Gatty.
    â€œNo, Gatty!” shouted Emrys.
    â€œGatty!” Lady Gwyneth called after her. “No!”
    But Gatty took no notice. She tore down the street after the two boys.
    When at last they looked over their shoulders, the boys saw Gatty was after them. At once they split, and Gatty followed the bigger one, the one carrying the purse.
    The boy led her through another marketplace and down a narrow passage where Gatty could hear her own footsteps echoing. She followed him through a kind of tunnel, all dripping and dark, where hands reached up and tried to clutch her. Then left, then right, then right again—or was it left? Then across a courtyard. That’s where the boy tripped and, before he could get up, Gatty threw herself onto him.
    â€œYou rat!” she gasped. She reached for her knife.
    The moment the boy saw it, shining, he didn’t struggle at all. He went quite limp, and meekly allowed Gatty to take back Nest’s pouch.
    Gatty glared at him. “You,” she said, panting, “you should lose your left hand!” She got up, and at once the boy scrambled to his feet and ran off. Gatty opened her own pouch and tucked Nest’s inside it. Still panting,and excited at catching the boy, Gatty started to retrace her steps. Left…then right…then left again, was it? People kept getting in her way and after a while Gatty realized she had actually walked right round in a circle. She began to tremble. She had come back to the courtyard where she had pinioned the sneak-thief.
    What about the gate then, Gatty said to herself. They’ll have gone back to the gate, won’t they? They’ll wait for me there.
    Several people told Gatty how to get back to the city wall but, when she did so, there was no gate. Gatty felt scared. She didn’t know which way to go.
    First she hurried east along the track following the inside of the wall, then she retraced her steps and set off west.
    Stands to reason, she said to herself. We came in from the west, we did.
    At last Gatty did come to a city gate, but it wasn’t the right one, and no one was able to help her.
    Gatty began to shake then. Her heart hammered in her chest. It was almost dark as she gathered up her cloak and hastened along the towering wall.
    What if I can’t find it, she thought. What if I can’t find them?
    God took pity on Gatty. In the dark, she stumbled upon the gate through which she and all the others had entered the city. Panting and trembling, she pressed her back against its ribs and sucked her red knuckles. She stared up at the wide arch…and that was when she remembered.
    The Three Arches. No! The Three Archers. That was it, wasn’t it? Down by the river.
    Gatty gulped. For the second time, she set off down the long street leading away from the city walls, and took the middle lane spoking out of the marketplace.
    When at last, after asking the way dozens of times, Gatty stumbled into the low-slung, candlelit tavern, Nest and Tilda saw her at once, and wrapped their arms around her; Nest began to sob. When Gatty extracted herself, she saw the corners of Lady Gwyneth’s eyes were moist too.
    â€œGod forgive you!” she said, shaking her head.
    â€œWe thought…” sobbed Nest.
    â€œI was!” exclaimed Gatty. “Lost like the Tribes of Israel.”
    â€œNo!” sobbed Nest. “We thought you were taken.”
    â€œOr murdered,” said Tilda.
    Gatty ran her hands through her hair. “There was a kind of tunnel,” she said, “and hands…and I swatted them!”
    â€œGatty!” cried Nest.
    â€œI seen half of