Impossible, she said aloud. I dont remember a lake?
I dont either, said Hume, kneeling under the willow. Its new.
Humes tracksuit was so much the colour of the massed violets that Ann had not seen him before. She had a moment when she was not sure who he was. But his brown shaggy hair, his thin face and the way his cheekbones stuck out, were all quite familiar. Of course he was Hume. It was one of the times when he was about ten years old.
Whats making the ripples? Hume said. Theres no wind.
Hume never stops asking things, Ann thought. She searched out over the wide milky water. There was no way of telling how wide. Her eye stopped with a gentle white welling in the more distant water. She pointed. There. Theres a spring coming up through the lake.
Where? Oh, I see it, Hume said, pointing too.
They were both pointing out across the lake as the fog cleared, dimly. For just an instant, they were pointing to the milky grey silhouette of a castle, far off on a distant shore. Steep roof, pointed turrets and the square teeth of battlements rose beside the graceful round outline of a tower. The chalky shapes of flags flapped lazily from tower and roofs, all without colour. Then the fog rolled in again and hid it all.
What was that? asked Hume.
The castle, said Ann, where the king lives with his knights and his ladies. The ladies wear beautiful clothes. The knights ride out in armour having adventures and fighting.
Humes thin face glowed. I know! The castle is where the real action is. Im going to tell Mordion Ive seen it.
Hume had this way of knowing things before she told him, Ann thought, gathering a small bunch of the violets. Mum would love them, and there were so many. Sometimes it turned out that Hume had asked Yam, but sometimes, confusingly, Hume said she had told him before. The castles not the only place where things happen, she said.
Yes, but I want to get there, Hume said yearningly. Id wade out through the lake or try to swim, if I knew I could get there. But I bet it wouldnt be there when I got across the lake.
Its enchanted, said Ann. You have to be older to get there.
I know, Hume said irritably. But then I shall be a knight and kill the dragon.
Anns private opinion was that Hume would do better being a sorcerer, like Mordion. Hume was good at that. She would have given a great deal, herself, to learn sorcery. You might not enjoy it at the castle, she warned him, plucking the best-shaped leaves to arrange round her violets. If you want to fight, youd be better off joining Sir Artegal and his outlaws. My dad says Sir Artegals a proper knight.
But theyre outlaws, Hume said, dismissing Sir Artegal. Im going to be a lawful knight at the castle. Tell me what they say about the castle in the village.
I dont know much, Ann said. She finished arranging her leaves and wrapped a long piece of grass carefully round the stalks of her posy. I think there are things they dont want me to hear. They whisper when they talk about the kings bride. You see, because the king is ill with his wound that wont heal, some of the others are much too powerful. Theres quarrelling and secrecy and taking sides.
Tell me about the knights, Hume said inexorably.
Theres Sir Bors, said Ann. He prays a lot, they say. Nobody likes Sir Fors. But they quite like Sir Bedefer, even if he is hard on his soldiers. They say hes honest. Sir Harrisoun is the one everyone really hates.
Hume considered this, with one tracksuited knee up under his chin, staring into the mist across the rippling lake. When Ive killed the dragon, Ill turn them all out and be the kings Champion.
You have to get there first, Ann said, beginning to get up.
Hume sighed. Sometimes, he said, I hate living in an enchanted wood.
Ann sighed too. You dont know your own luck! I have to be home for lunch. Are you staying here?
For now, said Hume. The mist might clear again.
Ann left him there, kneeling among the violets looking out into the fog as if that glimpse of the castle had somehow broken his heart. As she crawled through the thornbrake, carefully protecting her bunch of violets in one cupped hand, she felt fairly heartbroken herself. Something impossibly
beautiful seemed to have been taken away from her. She was almost crying as she crawled out from the bushes on to the mud path and stood up to trot towards the houses. And, on top of it all, she had torn her anorak, and her skirt, and she seemed to have quite a large cut in her knee.
Hey, wait a minute. she said, halting in the passage between the houses. She had cut that knee running away from Mordion. She looked from the dried blood flaking off her shin to the small bunch of violets in her hand. Did I go into the wood twice then?
I dont think so, said the Boy. I lost you.
You went out of touch when you went into that wood, explained the Prisoner.
Yes, hut did I go in and come out and go in again? Ann asked them.
No, they said, all four of her imaginary people, and the King added, You only went in once this morning.
Hm. Ann almost doubted them as she limped slowly up the passage and into Wood Street. But the big grey car was still in the parking bay. There were other cars around it now, but when Ann bent down she could still see just a few hailstones, fused into a melting lump behind the near front wheel where the sun had not been able to reach.