replied.
"So you are John the Sword Bearer without your sword," Bjorn returned evenly.
"It was stolen from me."
"And you were unable to defend yourself, Sword Bearer."
"I told you already," John said, "I didn't even know where I was. It was pitch-black. Two of them knocked me down before I knew what was happening. The one called Gutreth weighs half a ton." Suddenly he felt very sorry for himself. "Besides, I'm only a boy," he pouted.
Bjorn's voice was cold. "I have no idea what a boy is. But I know you are a Sword Bearer without a sword. A magical Sword Bearer unable to defend himself against an ordinary Matmon. Not a spy, of course. Not a spy acting under orders from the Mystery of Abomination."
His rugged face was set in stone. A breeze sighed through the
boughs of the surrounding trees and rippled in fluffy moving waves of light across the grasses of the meadow. The faces of the watching Matmon and animals were intent on the six participants in the trial. Far above them a summer cloud of cotton wool floated toward the sun.
Bjornsluv touched her husband's hand. "My lord must not be too hard on him. I perceive from his face that though he may be troubled, he has been reared in truth." Turning to John she said, "Where is your home, John the Sword Bearer?"
John sighed. "It's—it used to be—in Pendleton."
"It used to be?"
"Well—my granma died last night—at least I think it was last night, and they were going to send me away, so—"
"So you ran away."
"Yes, how did you know?"
Bjornsluv smiled. "And where is your grandmother's home?"
"Er—Pimblett's Place, Pendleton." He had the feeling that the words would be meaningless and he could see from their faces that they had not understood. "Pendleton—" he said, hopelessly. "It's in Lancashire. You know—in England."
"These words are empty. Such places do not exist" Bjorn's face was still set and to John he suddenly seemed stupid. After all he was small and fat
"Idiot!" he hissed. "Of course they exist! I was born there. It's where I lived. What do you know of geography?" A surge of the exultation he had felt in the cave began to rise inside him. He felt contempt for the three in front of him and for the guards at his side. The summer cloud crossed the face of the sun, and a shadow swept over them all.
Bjorn's eyes burned with anger. His tone was carefully controlled, but his voice shook a little. "I know only that the young respect the old, and that death awaits spies from the Mystery of Abomination."
For the first time John saw beyond Vixenia and the Matmon king and queen the sinister figure of a hooded Matmon sharpening a heavy bronze axe on a whetstone beside a low tree stump.
"The block is prepared," Bjorn said. "The teeth of an executioner's axe bite keenly, and young though you may be, your own head will be severed from your body if you prove to be a spy from the Mystery. And if you are nothing more than an impudent runaway, you will be lashed with whips."
John's heart beat faster. Anger exploded inside him. He could feel his upper lip curling. He said nothing, but held his head high. Bjorn continued. "Tell us where you are from!"
The rage inside him came to a boil. His head swam and the scene before him seemed shrouded in red curtains. Suddenly he lost control. "You idiots!" he screamed. "You stupid, ignorant idiots! I go to Salford Grammar School! I come from Pendleton! I can't help it if you don't know where it is! Don't ask me how I got here. I don't know! I had come the night before in a dream. A magician was here."
The red curtains were lifting before his eyes, and unexpect-edly his rage began to subside as swiftly as it had come. He sighed again and continued more slowly. "The one you call Vixenia had summoned the magician through some kind of stone. He pointed at me and told you I was the Sword Bearer. And I said my name was John."
Anger had now drained from him like a retreating wave on a sandy beach. He was hungry, hot and
"So you are John the Sword Bearer without your sword," Bjorn returned evenly.
"It was stolen from me."
"And you were unable to defend yourself, Sword Bearer."
"I told you already," John said, "I didn't even know where I was. It was pitch-black. Two of them knocked me down before I knew what was happening. The one called Gutreth weighs half a ton." Suddenly he felt very sorry for himself. "Besides, I'm only a boy," he pouted.
Bjorn's voice was cold. "I have no idea what a boy is. But I know you are a Sword Bearer without a sword. A magical Sword Bearer unable to defend himself against an ordinary Matmon. Not a spy, of course. Not a spy acting under orders from the Mystery of Abomination."
His rugged face was set in stone. A breeze sighed through the
boughs of the surrounding trees and rippled in fluffy moving waves of light across the grasses of the meadow. The faces of the watching Matmon and animals were intent on the six participants in the trial. Far above them a summer cloud of cotton wool floated toward the sun.
Bjornsluv touched her husband's hand. "My lord must not be too hard on him. I perceive from his face that though he may be troubled, he has been reared in truth." Turning to John she said, "Where is your home, John the Sword Bearer?"
John sighed. "It's—it used to be—in Pendleton."
"It used to be?"
"Well—my granma died last night—at least I think it was last night, and they were going to send me away, so—"
"So you ran away."
"Yes, how did you know?"
Bjornsluv smiled. "And where is your grandmother's home?"
"Er—Pimblett's Place, Pendleton." He had the feeling that the words would be meaningless and he could see from their faces that they had not understood. "Pendleton—" he said, hopelessly. "It's in Lancashire. You know—in England."
"These words are empty. Such places do not exist" Bjorn's face was still set and to John he suddenly seemed stupid. After all he was small and fat
"Idiot!" he hissed. "Of course they exist! I was born there. It's where I lived. What do you know of geography?" A surge of the exultation he had felt in the cave began to rise inside him. He felt contempt for the three in front of him and for the guards at his side. The summer cloud crossed the face of the sun, and a shadow swept over them all.
Bjorn's eyes burned with anger. His tone was carefully controlled, but his voice shook a little. "I know only that the young respect the old, and that death awaits spies from the Mystery of Abomination."
For the first time John saw beyond Vixenia and the Matmon king and queen the sinister figure of a hooded Matmon sharpening a heavy bronze axe on a whetstone beside a low tree stump.
"The block is prepared," Bjorn said. "The teeth of an executioner's axe bite keenly, and young though you may be, your own head will be severed from your body if you prove to be a spy from the Mystery. And if you are nothing more than an impudent runaway, you will be lashed with whips."
John's heart beat faster. Anger exploded inside him. He could feel his upper lip curling. He said nothing, but held his head high. Bjorn continued. "Tell us where you are from!"
The rage inside him came to a boil. His head swam and the scene before him seemed shrouded in red curtains. Suddenly he lost control. "You idiots!" he screamed. "You stupid, ignorant idiots! I go to Salford Grammar School! I come from Pendleton! I can't help it if you don't know where it is! Don't ask me how I got here. I don't know! I had come the night before in a dream. A magician was here."
The red curtains were lifting before his eyes, and unexpect-edly his rage began to subside as swiftly as it had come. He sighed again and continued more slowly. "The one you call Vixenia had summoned the magician through some kind of stone. He pointed at me and told you I was the Sword Bearer. And I said my name was John."
Anger had now drained from him like a retreating wave on a sandy beach. He was hungry, hot and
Similar Books
