The woman spoke up again. ‘I’m aware there have been problems at home, Marcus,’ she said. ‘But these things can usually be worked through, with a bit of help from the outside.’
‘I don’t need help!’ Marcus called down. ‘I’ve got everything I need in here!’
‘What about your friends? Could they speak to me?’
‘No! They won’t betray me! Stop trying to weasel your way in. I know you’ve got the police there – and him! I’ve seen them all round the side, lying in wait.’
Emily shook her head with suppressed ire. Marcus was doing himself no favours here. She could do a better job than this.
‘They’re not ly – ’
‘This is my castle! You can wait outside for as long as you want, but you won’t get in and I’m not coming out!’
‘OK,’ the woman said, and the doubt was plain in her voice. ‘But I still don’t quite understand the problem.’
‘Right – ’ It was then that Emily acted. She pulled her scarf up over her mouth and nose and in one swift movement leant forward and pulled Marcus forcibly back from the aperture. Ignoring his cry of protest, she thrust herself into his place and crouched down low at the castle window. The woman with the loudhailer looked up at her from the centre of the crushed snow. She showed a little surprise, but recovered well.
‘Hello,’ she said.
‘Hi,’ Emily called, lifting the scarf a little so that she could be heard. ‘I’m a friend of Marcus.’
‘Hi. I’m Janet. What’s your name?’
Danger. ‘Er – Katie,’ Emily said uncertainly, picking a plausible one at random.
‘Thank you. Well, Katie, can you tell me what the problem is?’
‘Yes,’ Emily called. ‘The problem is that Marcus’s dad has been hitting him black and blue and we want something done about it. I don’t know what excuse he’s been giving you but the truth is that’s why Marcus is here and doesn’t want to go home, and we think that instead of hounding him you should be arresting his dad instead. That’s what the problem is,’ she said, coming to a halt breathlessly.
The woman seemed taken aback. ‘I see. That’s a serious accusation,’ she began.
‘You bet it is,’ Emily said. Her scarf was slipping; she pulled it up.
‘We will of course look into it.’
‘Good.’
‘But we need Marcus to come out and give a proper statement first. You see that, don’t you, Katie? It’s no good shouting things out from up there. I can barely hear you, for one thing. Marcus will be quite all right if he comes out. The police will investigate matters thoroughly.’
Emily heard Simon give a derisive snort. She cleared her throat. ‘Well, can you give us some assurances about what will happen, please?’ she called. ‘Like what will happen to Marcus tonight? Because he doesn’t want to go back with his father.’
‘Everything will be worked through carefully and correctly when Marcus comes down,’ the woman said blandly. ‘You needn’t worry about him, Katie. You must be feeling very anxious and trapped up there, but it’ll be a lot better once you come out, you know. We aren’t your enemies.’
‘That’s not quite what I asked,’ Emily said. ‘Can you give us any assurances? About Marcus and what happens to him. And to his father.’ It seemed to her that the woman’s answer contained nothing concrete whatsoever.
The woman hesitated a little before speaking. ‘I can’t be sure exactly what will happen, Katie.’
‘That’s not good enough.’
They looked at each other for a moment. Then the woman spoke slowly.
‘You are being a good friend to Marcus,’ she said. ‘At least, you think you are. You’re standing by him when he says he is in need and that’s what friends should do. But you should ask yourself whether you are doing the right thing encouraging him to lock himself away in a draughty old ruin and not come out to people who have the resources to help him.’
‘Until I hear some assurances, I think I am,’ Emily said.
The woman went on as if she had not heard her. ‘Also, you should ask yourself how well you know him.’
Emily’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’
‘How long have you known Marcus, Katie? Not long, maybe? It’s admirable that you should take his word on trust, but – ’
‘I do more than take his word.’ In growing anger, Emily saw Marcus’s bruised face in her mind’s eye. She gestured behind her. ‘I’ve got the evidence right here!’
‘Even so, are you aware, Katie, that Marcus is a boy with a very fertile imagination?’
‘How dare you!’ Emily felt fury sweep uncontrollably through her. ‘Forget it! Sod that!’ And she pushed herself back from the window and leapt down into the pillared room.
‘Katie? . . . Katie?’ The woman called up at the empty window. ‘Are you there?’ Can you come back? I’m sorry I upset you . . . Katie? . . . Marcus?’ For several minutes more the woman continued to walk back and forth along the strip of wall, calling forlornly through the loudhailer. But there was no answer. The keep was silent. At last she switched the loudhailer off and walked away.
Inside, Emily kicked savagely at the nearest pillar. ‘That stupid woman!’ she cried. ‘How insulting, how stupid can you get? She will not take your word for it, Marcus! She implied – ’
‘That’s the police for you,’ Simon said.
‘She was social services.’
‘Same thing.’
‘What a bunch of imbeciles!’ Emily was boiling with rage. ‘I tell you, Marcus, if you went out now, you’d be right back with your father as fast as you could blink.’
Marcus seemed very subdued. ‘Yeah, well, that’s why I had to leave home,’ he said quietly. ‘I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere with them.’
‘Too right. I was a fool to think I could talk to her.’
‘No, you did fine. Thanks for trying, Em.’
‘Yeah, well, moving on . . .’ Simon looked at his watch. ‘Hell, it’s still only ten to one. We’ve got hours before dark yet. They’ll try something soon, you can bet on it. What’s the weather like?’
‘Sky’s darkening. Might be another snowstorm coming.’
‘Let’s hope so. Well, all we can do is keep an eye on them. See what they do.’
But the pace of the offensive was quickening. From the window of the entrance lobby, they watched the woman with the loudhailer return to the gatehouse and be swallowed up in the growing crowd. All the people there – policemen, policewomen, officials in suits – looked decidedly cold, and in other circumstances Emily might have found something funny about the way they huddled together, almost like Emperor penguins, shoulders high and arms thrust deep into their pockets. Several of the men were smoking; they stubbed their cigarettes out on the stonework and dropped the butts into the churned snow.
A great consultation now ensued. The woman spoke first, evidently reporting the failure of her mission, and as she finished half the crowd began to talk at once, all eagerly suggesting how to proceed. The hubbub grew ever more heated until at last the senior officer (Emily suspected he was the one who had spoken to them through the murder-holes) stepped in. He took soundings from different people in turn – another officer, a man in a thick brown overcoat and the woman with the loudhailer. He even listened briefly to Harris, who kept interrupting with an angry expression on his face. Finally he nodded decisively, unhooked his radio from his jacket and spoke into it at length. Then he gave a general order and the group fragmented, most of the police officers heading in both directions around the keep. The woman with the loudhailer remained at the gatehouse, as did Harris, the senior officer and, almost concealed under the arch, Marcus’s father. He stood a little apart from the others, slumped against a wall in an attitude of dejection.
‘Right, they’re doing something.’ Marcus was agitated. ‘What is it?’
‘Keep calm,’ Simon said. ‘They’re still waiting. They’re just surrounding the place in case we do a runner.’
‘He’s ordered something up on the radio,’ Emily hazarded. ‘What do you think? Ladders?’
‘I hope not.’
Twenty-five minutes passed before Emily was proved correct. She, Marcus and Simon spent their time scurrying round the walkways, peering through windows at the besieging forces. They did their best to keep out of sight, but several times Emily was spotted by someone below. One officer caught her eye as she peeped from a latrine window and gave her a derisive mock wave, which made her feel very small and stupid. She ducked back and slunk away, tightening more firmly than ever the scarf that concealed her face.
Since her conversation with the woman, Emily’s position on the siege had hardened. She no longer half-desired to make terms with the police, or wished that Marcus would give himself up to their care. The only thing she wanted was to hold out until dark and then escape so that Marcus could fight another day. To this end, she became almost as energetic as Simon.
With the enemy pressing so hard, Simon had now tacitly assumed the role of leader. He was fastest and most untiring in his patrols around the keep and seemed the most clear-headed of all three. His orders were swiftly obeyed. Marcus was stationed up on the tower, where a good view could be had across a wide sweep of the bailey, while Emily was sent running to Marcus’s camp to forage any high-energy supplies that could be eaten on the hoof. Simon also improvised some emergency signals, and it was while descending the stairs with a packet of chocolate biscuits that Emily heard three short whistles summoning her immediately to her leader’s side. She ran round the walkway, past the kitchen and into the entrance lobby, arriving just as Marcus careered down from the tower. Simon was on his feet by the window, breathing fast.
‘This is it,’ he said tersely. ‘They’ve brought the ladders.’
A giant red shape had pulled up alongside the flock of small vehicles in the car park. A fire engine. Four members of the fire crew were busy pulling down two long extendable ladders.
Emily’s heart sank. ‘What are we going to do now?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Simon’s voice was heavy. ‘There’s not much we can do, is there?’
‘Knock them off,’ Marcus said.
‘You what?’
‘Wait till the men are halfway up, then push the ladders back and away with a stick. We could use a plank for that. They’ll be helpless.’
‘We can’t push the ladders away when men are on them.’
‘Why?’
Simon looked at Marcus. ‘But,’ he went on, ‘we might be able to do it when they first set the ladders against the wall. Before anyone gets on them. It’s worth a try. Have you got a plank loose down there?’
‘There’s one that’s almost splintered off.’
‘That’ll have to do. Go and get it and bring it back here. No, stop – take it to our entrance hole.’
‘Why there?’
‘That’s where we got in; that’s where they’ll think of getting in too. Hurry up.’
Marcus disappeared down the spiral stairs and Simon turned to Emily. ‘I was right all along,’ he said. ‘He is completely mad.’
‘Wouldn’t you be if your dad beat you?’
They watched the ladders approach. Each was borne by two burly firemen, who carried them slowly across the field along the now well-worn path to the bridge and gatehouse. There they were greeted by the waiting company and given brief orders by the commanding police officer. One of the ladders proceeded on its way towards the keep; the other remained where it was. The men laid it down carefully in the snow and stood up again, stretching their arms.
‘That’s odd,’ Emily said. ‘Only one . . .’
Simon cursed. ‘I know what they’re doing. They’ll know we’re watching; they’re going to attack with one and bring the other out when our backs are turned. Hell!’
‘We’ll have to split forces.’
‘Yeah. All right, I’ll follow this ladder. I’m sure it’ll make for our hole. Marcus can help me there. You keep an eye on this one. I’ll whistle if we need you.’
With that the leader departed. Emily remained put, watching the gate. She was sure that Simon was right. Although the commanding officer had accompanied the first ladder, taking with him many of the enemy, a small unit of five men had remained behind with the second. They seemed inactive enough for the moment – cigarettes were lit and one man disappeared purposefully round the gatehouse for what she suspected was a pee – but Emily saw them glancing repeatedly at their watches. They were keeping track of the time.
They’ll set off shortly, she thought to herself. Question is – where will they go?
A shrill cry sounded behind her, then an urgent shout. Despite her orders, she could not resist moving away from the window for a moment and crossing the lobby to the arch that opened out into the empty hall. On the far side of the open space she could see their entrance hole, with Simon crouched upon its ledge. He was leaning out of the hole, stretching for something.
Down below, Marcus was running into the tower stairway, carrying a long shaft of wood in his hands.
Emily darted back to her window and looked out. The second attack force was still standing in the gatehouse. One man looked at his watch again.
She ran back to the arch. Simon was half-sprawled over the stonework. Now Marcus came running along the walkway. She heard him shout, saw Simon draw himself back, saw him grab the shaft of wood. He thrust it out and downwards through the hole, extending his arm out as far as possible. He shoved, paused – and raised a fist in triumph; Marcus slapped him on the shoulder.
A distant crash, distant cries.
Emily gave a subdued cheer. She glanced up at the lowering clouds, then at her watch. Just past half one. Time was going so slowly! Hours to go. They hadn’t a hope unless the weather helped them. If the visibility went soon, perhaps they could still slip out.
On the far ledge, Simon turned and saw her. She waved and gave the thumbs up, but he did not return the signal. Instead he pointed repeatedly behind her with an air of agitation.
Oh –
Quickly Emily crossed to her window and looked out.
There was no one at the gatehouse. A long, thin indentation in the snow showed where the ladder had once been.
Terror swept through her. Tears welled in her eyes. Where were they? Where had they gone?
Emily forced the swelling panic down and tore herself away from the window. She would look from the tower – that would give her a view along two walls. Ignoring another outbreak of shouts from the far walkway, she hared up the staircase, two steps at a time.
Round and round, gasping for breath . . . Past a cold and empty room, with several arches choked with bird netting. Round and round again . . .
Emily burst onto the roof of the tower. She ran over to the battlements that faced the gatehouse and leant out until she could see the base of the wall. There was no one on that side of the keep.
She crossed to the next side of the tower and leant out again, looking to her left. In the distance, close to the far corner tower, people were moving. The ladder in their midst gave off a dull glint. Even as she watched they seemed to come to a halt.
They were about to create a second point of attack.
As she ran back to the doorway, she saw the first heavy flakes of snow start drifting from the skies.
She pelted down the steps, boots slapping the stones painfully. Out into the entrance lobby and off past the kitchen she ran, without the slightest clue as to what she was about to do.
Onto the walkway. Up to the place where Marcus had left an ice-trap . . . at the last moment she remembered and leapt in mid-stride. She saw its secretive glint as it passed beneath her, then she was racing on.
Through the arches on the left she glimpsed Simon and Marcus still at their post. They were working in silence now. Simon was still crouching on the broken wall, shoving with the shaft of wood.
Just before the corner tower a small roughly hewn arch opened int
o the thickness of the outer wall. Emily dashed through, entering a tiny L-shaped room – a latrine, with a hollow seat at its end. Above the privy was a window from which some of the stones had fallen away, leaving a sizeable breach in the wall.
It seemed to be in the right position for the group she had seen outside.
Stealthily, Emily crept forwards. Almost immediately she heard a muffled clanking from below. They were extending the ladder.
She froze, gazing helplessly at the window ledge, expecting at any moment to see the ends of the ladder appear in view. Outside, the snow was falling more thickly than before and the sky was a menacing grey. The fields beyond the edge of the wood were growing smudged and indistinct.
Why couldn’t you have come an hour ago? she demanded silently of the snow. It’s too late now.
There was a scraping noise from just below the window ledge and quiet, eager-sounding voices further down.
Emily snapped herself into action.
She could only think of one, rather ineffectual, thing to do. She took off her bobble-hat and stepped over to the window ledge. A thick covering of the previous week’s snow lay there. Holding her hat open at the lip of the ledge, she began to scrape the snow into it, cursing whenever the soft hat rim shifted and the falling snow missed its target.
Soft metallic clumping sounds.
Feet ascending the ladder.
Her hands scraped faster. Now she had cleared half the ledge and the hat was full, distorted with the weight of snow.
It would have to do.
Not forgetting to raise the scarf high over her nose, Emily cautiously leant out over the ledge and looked down. A man was slowly climbing the ladder – a sizeable policeman, only a quarter of the way up. Four other men were watching his progress from the drifts below.
Emily squeezed the bulging hat as tightly as she could with her hands, feeling the old crispy snow compress down into a thick ball of ice. It was tempting to take the ice out and spare the hat, but she knew that if she did that there was a chance that the ball might fragment before hitting its target. Instead she took hold of opposite sides of the hat’s soggy rim, pulled them out with all her strength so that they distorted into two thin strips and tied these together with a single knot.