‘Climb, Gabar, climb!’ yelled Timoken.
He felt the camel’s muscles ripple, heard a grunt of defiance. A huge heart-beat throbbed through Gabar’s body and slowly, very slowly, he lifted away from the deadly sand.
‘On now, Gabar. Onwards, and I’ll let you see again.’ Timoken patted the shaggy back.
Gabar galloped into the sky, rolling his head this way and that, trying to rid himself of his blindfold. Frantically, he climbed his way upwards, higher and higher, until the moon cloak slipped from his head and fell into Timoken’s arms. But still the camel climbed, his great forefeet treading the wind, while the wizard moaned and grunted, sinking his nails into Timoken’s shoulders until he bruised the skin.
Timoken gritted his teeth and let the camel continue to climb a moment longer before crying, ‘No higher, Gabar, or we’ll freeze to death.’
‘Where, then?’ snorted the camel. ‘Ice or sand?’
Hoping they had passed over the white beach, Timoken said, ‘There are many places between ice and sand, Gabar. You can fly lower now.’
‘I hope you’re instructing the creature to descend,’ grumbled Eri. ‘I’m likely to become an ice-man very soon.’
‘Take this,’ Timoken passed his cloak to the wizard.
Eri looked doubtfully at the cloak, before wrapping it round his shoulders. ‘Shivering stars,’ he breathed. ‘This flimsy cloak is as warm as sheepskin.’
His words were lost in the wind as Gabar, suddenly blown sideways, plummeted through the clouds. To Timoken’s relief, a rusty-coloured headland appeared beneath them.
‘Here, Gabar,’ Timoken shouted. ‘Let’s go down.’
The camel’s descent was so swift, Eri, caught off guard, found his legs flying out behind him. ‘Slower,’ he screeched, his bony fingers now biting into Timoken’s waist. But the camel’s feet were already skimming a field of bracken. He pawed the earth with one foot, then another, absorbing the shock of a sudden landing. Gabar was now an expert at smart touch-downs.
They found themselves on a high finger of land, jutting out into the dark sea. Far below, the waves crashed and slapped against a scattering of rocks.
The first stars were beginning to show and a thin splinter of light sliced through the darkening sky; the new moon. For more than two hundred years, whenever the new moon appeared, Timoken had sipped a drop of Alixir from a bird-shaped bottle. The liquid came from a moonlit pool, deep in the African forest, and the jinni who made Timoken’s cloak had also cast a spell on the moonlit water, transforming it into the water of life.
‘I see the new moon,’ grunted Gabar.
‘I see it too,’ said Timoken.
‘Where is the bottle?’ Gabar’s memory was not perfect.
Timoken sighed. ‘I’ve told you a hundred times. We lost it when you fell into the river.’
The wizard had started wading through the bracken. He had seen a small stand of trees in the distance. Looking back at Timoken, he shouted, ‘What are you two whispering about?’
‘A camel couldn’t whisper even if it wanted to.’ Timoken laughed, running to catch up with Eri.
‘Hmph!’ the wizard grunted. ‘How should I know?’
They spent the night beneath the trees. All three were so weary they barely had time to light a fire before they fell asleep. Timoken shyly offered the wizard a place beneath his cloak, and Eri eagerly accepted.
When they woke up they found they were on a hilltop that sloped gently down to a wide valley of autumn trees. There was not a wisp of smoke to show the presence of another human, not a sound, except for the calling of eagles and a soft animal rustling in the bracken.
‘It’s like a new land,’ said Timoken. ‘Perhaps we can stay here. We’re far from the conquerors now.’
Eri looked doubtful. ‘Not far enough,’ he said.
‘I’ll go into the forest and look for signs,’ Timoken said eagerly.
‘Without a weapon?’ Eri shook his head.
Timoken had been unable to reach his sword and shield before their flight from the castle. He would have to make another. But not yet.
‘Don’t worry, Eri. I can defend myself.’ Timoken ran down the hill. The air was crisp, the sky a bright, frosty blue. He felt invincible. When he reached the first line of trees, he looked back and saw the wizard standing in the field of bracken. The sleeves of his earth-brown robe fluttered in the wind, and a hood covered his head. Timoken couldn’t see the wizard’s eyes, and yet he felt the weight of the man’s gaze on him. He lifted a hand, but Eri remained motionless. With a little shiver of apprehension, Timoken let his hand fall to his side and ran into the trees.
It was an ancient forest. The oaks, broad with age, bore leaves the colour of bronze. Some of the trees had died and lay where they had fallen, maybe a thousand years ago. Tiny creatures darted through the gleaming moss that covered the bark, and the dark, rotting wood bristled with life. The constant fluttering and calling of birds filled the soft air.
No one had walked here for many hundreds of years. And yet Timoken knew he wasn’t the first. He took off his shoes to feel the footsteps far beneath the earth. Who were they, the people who had once stepped through the forest? No conqueror had set foot on this rich earth, no Saxon. Perhaps not even the Britons’ ancestors.
Whoever they were, their spirits seemed to welcome Timoken, the boy from Africa. He began to run. Spreading his arms and using every animal language he knew, he called to the creatures of the forest.
‘I have found you, my home,’ he sang. And he thought of his brave mother who, before she died, had told him that, one day, he would find a new home.
Timoken lay on a fallen tree and sank his hands into the deep moss at his side. Somewhere here I’ll build a home for us, he thought. For me and Eri and all my friends, and we’ll be safe.
What about Mabon? said a voice in his head. He couldn’t answer that.
He rolled off the tree and walked on until he found a wild, tumbling river. On the other side, a red cliff reached high above the trees. Timoken flew up to the cliff-top and looked west, expecting to see the ocean, but he saw only trees sweeping to the horizon. How far had he come? He leapt from the cliff and flew above the forest for a while.
A chill in the air sent him down to the forest for warmth. But the sun had gone and a cold mist was beginning to seep from the earth. Timoken felt a light touch on his cheek; a tiny droplet of freezing water. When he tried to draw his cloak tight around himself, he was aware of a slight tug, as though someone was pulling at it from behind. But there was no one there. And then, from the corner of his eye, he glimpsed a pale shape drifting through the trees beside him; another followed it. He turned his head and saw a dull light gliding between distant branches. Timoken began to run.
It was almost dark when Timoken left the forest. In the bag at his waist, he carried nuts and berries for his camel and the wizard. As he walked through the bracken, he could see Gabar dozing at the edge of the trees.
‘I’ve got food for you, Gabar,’ cried Timoken, running up to his camel.
‘I’ve had plenty. Where’ve you been?’ Gabar grunted reproachfully.
‘In our new kingdom.’ Timoken crouched beside the camel. ‘It’s a fine place, Gabar. And I’ll build a castle to keep us all safe.’
‘Any sand?’ enquired the camel.
‘Perhaps,’ Timoken said uncertainly.
‘Perhaps,’ echoed the camel. He yawned and lowered his head. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’
Timoken stood up and patted the camel’s neck. ‘I’ll make sand if I have to,’ he assured him.
He had expected to find the wizard under the trees, wrapped in his cloak and sleeping. But there was no sign of him.
‘Where’s Eri?’ Timoken asked the camel.
‘Gone,’ said Gabar.
‘Where?’ Timoken looked anxiously over his shoulder.
‘He didn’t tell me.’ Gabar would never admit to a failure of understanding.
 
; ‘Of course not,’ Timoken said quickly. He gazed at the field of bracken, his eyes roaming along the edge of the forest. Night was falling. No doubt Eri had found somewhere safe to sleep. The warm hollow of a tree, perhaps. He was a wizard, after all, and had the means to look after himself.
Timoken lit a fire and sat a moment, staring into the flames. In spite of the sinister beings in the forest, the certainty that he had found his place in the world was stronger than ever . . .
He could picture how it would be; he and his friends, together again, sitting before a great fire in their new home. Safe from Osbern, safe from Stenulf and Aelfric. And then he thought of Mabon and the bright picture was shattered. What would Osbern do to Mabon when he discovered he was still alive, after failing to kill an African who might be a king? Timoken’s eyes began to close. Just before he fell asleep he found himself murmuring, ‘Eri, where are you?’
Timoken was still asleep when the camel woke up and went in search of water. He found a stream and drank thirstily. The grass on the bank had a light dusting of frost, but Gabar was used to the cold. That didn’t mean he liked it. Nor did he like the damp bracken that brushed his knees. He thought of the great beach of sand that lay just to the south of the headland. He longed for it. Just one quick look, he thought, to savour the memory, to imagine the feel of dry sand beneath his feet.
Why not? thought Gabar. Why not take a look? He was running through the bracken now, happiness flooding his body. Soon he would see the thing he loved. He stopped, just in time, at the edge of the cliff. He trembled with shock. For he might have fallen. Without Timoken he couldn’t fly. It was the boy who kept him aloft. Without his family, Gabar was just an extremely long-lived camel.
Gabar gazed at the vast bay in astonishment. Gone was the pale sand. It had vanished under a swirling blanket of water.
Swallowed, thought Gabar. It is like my family said. The sand has been swallowed.
Not all the sand had gone, however. Small banks of higher ground were still visible but, encircled by the rushing tide, these too were slowly being swallowed.
On one of the sandbanks there were two dots. Gabar’s lashed fluttered in a long blink. Something was wrong. Those dots should not be there. They were human beings and soon they would be swallowed, too. The camel bellowed. Strands of spittle flew from his mouth. He backed away from the edge of the cliff, wheeled round and ran to his family.
Chapter Seven
Half-Ear and Worm-Apple
Sila woke up. It was pitch dark in the tree-hide. She could hear the soft breathing of the others all around her, and then something else; a quiet rustling. It came from the corner where Karli slept.
‘Karli?’ she whispered. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m going,’ he said.
‘Not now. It’s dark. The moon is too slight.’
‘I can see by the stars. And I know where they’ve gone, the boy and his camel. They’ll follow the sand.’
‘You can’t go alone. I’m coming with you.’ Sila pushed her few possessions into a straw bag: her mother’s bone comb, a blanket, a string of shells, a wooden platter, a long sharp flint, a clay cup, a spoon and several rushes, ready to light.
‘I’m glad you’re coming, Sila,’ Karli whispered.
They crawled out of the hide and Sila let down the creeper. One end was tied to a stump in the wide mesh of branches that held their tree-home. Sila slipped her arm through a loop of string attached to her bag. Holding tight to the creeper, she swung her legs down until she could feel it between her feet.
‘Wait till I’m there and I’ll hold it steady for you.’ She spoke so softly that Karli didn’t hear her. He began to follow while she was still swinging down.
‘No, Karli,’ she hissed.
But Karli couldn’t wait. He wanted to run before his feet touched the earth. He wanted to be gone.
‘Who’s there?’ said a voice; not Karli’s.
‘Hush!’ Sila quietly silenced Karli.
She jumped to the ground and the little boy tumbled beside her.
Tumi peered into the dark beneath him. He couldn’t see the children but he knew who they were. He felt for the creeper and pulled it up, then he lay back on his straw mattress and listened to the soft breathing of the other children in the hide.
Tumi was eight when he ran away from the conquerors. He had seen two winters since then. His father had been a fisherman. He sold his fish in the market at Innswood; Tumi’s mother always sat at her husband’s side and gutted the fish for their wealthier customers. It was a good life – until the rebellion. Tumi’s father had always had a hot temper.
The people of Innswood chafed at the conquerors’ laws, at their greed and their cruelty. One cold, spring day, finding any weapon they could, they banded together and refused to pay their rents, refused to obey the laws that forbade them to hunt in their own forests, to fish in their own streams. In less than an hour, the conquerors, on their great horses, had cut down the people of Innswood, until only the children were left. When the children ran, the town was burnt to the ground.
Tumi sat up. He rubbed his eyes. It wasn’t safe for Sila and Karli to travel alone. He must follow them, and quickly. Strapping two spears to his back, he slung a bag over his shoulder. The bag was always kept ready for flight, with rush-lights, dried berries and a roll of deerskin. Like the others, Tumi always slept fully dressed.
He skimmed down the creeper and began to run, hoping that he would soon find Sila and Karli. Even in the dark, Tumi’s feet kept to the track that he knew so well. He ran swiftly, and was surprised not to come upon the others. He dared not call out. Thorkil posted spies in the trees, ready to warn them if strangers appeared in the wood.
The track ended and Tumi hesitated. He was some distance from the tree-hides now. Perhaps he could risk a call. He could hear nothing but the rustling and snuffling of animals. Quickly, he withdrew a spear from its leather casing on his back. He held it steady at his side. ‘S-e-e-la!’ he called. ‘Ka-a-rli!’
There was no reply. Which way should he go? Tumi looked at the sky and decided to keep moving forward, towards a cluster of stars that made the shape of a giant spoon. He had never learned the names of the stars, but he could recognise the patterns that they made.
A pale light began to filter through the trees. It was close to dawn. One by one the stars faded into an ashen sky. Throughout the wood, birds woke up and filled the air with a multitude of songs. Still moving, Tumi tried to hear any sound that could tell him where Sila and Karli might have gone. Instead, he heard something that sent him scuttling into the undergrowth.
Hoofbeats. They were distant but coming closer every second. Soon they would be upon him. Tumi flattened himself under a thorn-bush and pulled his spear close, ready to use it if he had to. There was a chance that they would miss him, whoever they were, if he remained perfectly still until they passed. And then Tumi heard the howl. And he knew his moments of freedom were over. For only the conquerors hunted with dogs, and the dogs would surely find him.
So Tumi waited, clutching his spear. At least he could wound one of the loathsome tyrants, giving Sila and Karli a chance to get further away. The horses were now only a few lengths down the track.
Tumi didn’t hear the hound’s stealthy approach until its bark of discovery erupted close to his ear. There was another bark, and another. The horses galloped up to him and a harsh voice said, ‘Come out, whoever you are, before I throw this spear.’
Tumi briefly closed his eyes. He knew it was hopeless. Both hounds were now eagerly sniffing at the thorn bush. Suddenly, one of them thrust in its nose and nipped Tumi’s ankle. The boy let out a yell and crawled on to the track.
‘What have we here?’ a rough voice chuckled.
‘Just a kid,’ said the other man.
Still clutching his spear, Tumi got to his feet.
The first speaker had a face the colour of a plum and was missing half an ear. The second man’s skin was scarred by the pox and hi
s lumpish nose was pricked like a worm-eaten apple.
The two horsemen wore chain mail beneath their orange-coloured tunics, but their heads were bare. Their hair had been roughly cut in a style the conquerors favoured.
‘So, who are you, boy? A thief? These are the king’s woods now, and, by the look of that spear, such as it is,’ Half-Ear gave another coarse chuckle, ‘you were doing some hunting.’
Tumi couldn’t stop himself. ‘Does the king own every hare in every wood?’ he muttered softly.
At this, the two men threw back their heads and laughed out loud.
‘He’s a bold one, Aelfric,’ said Worm-Apple.
‘A rebel’s son, no doubt,’ said Half-Ear, his eyes growing cold. ‘And, by the look of those breeches, he’s stolen one of the king’s seals.’
‘I found it,’ Tumi said defiantly. ‘It was washed ashore in a storm, and dead on the beach when I skinned it.’
Worm-Apple leant forward and brought his pock-marked face close to Tumi. ‘And had a nice little feast of it, eh?’
‘No. The flesh was rotten.’ This was a lie. Tumi had shared the seal meat with the other tree-children. The melted fat had kept their rush-lights burning for several months.
‘You’re a thief and a rebel,’ Half-Ear said gruffly. ‘But we’ll let you go if you can tell us something.’
‘Yes?’ Tumi was suspicious.
‘We’re looking for a boy on a camel.’ Half-Ear’s blue eyes bored into Tumi’s.
‘A camel?’ Tumi said slowly.
‘A creature unknown in this land,’ said Worm-Apple. ‘But you can’t mistake it.’ He wrinkled his pitted nose. ‘It’s an ugly thing. It has a hump on its back and a very long neck. The boy has a dark skin . . .’
‘And is, perhaps, accompanied by a wizard,’ said Half-Ear.
‘Wizard?’ Tumi repeated, his mind working furiously. These men were not friends. Tumi guessed that Sila and Karli would be travelling north, up the coast. He knew this was where Karli believed the camel would go – because of the sand.