quite right when he had said that nobody went up to World’s End unless they had to.
The track curved westwards and all at once Josse and Gus were riding right by the shore. To their left, the land fell away in a low cliff, beyond which stretched a pebbly beach in which there were broad areas of sand, shining now as the surface water caught the early morning light. The wind had increased; it was easy to see why there were so few trees up here at the top end of the island. Those that survived the constant blast had sparse foliage, spindly branches and bent trunks. They looked, Josse reflected, like skinny old people distorted by long toil and endless hardship.
Now where, he wondered, had that miserable thought come from?
Without warning the strong wind grew still and straight away, as if it had been waiting its moment, a soft white mist crept up out of the rough ground. Looking out to sea, Josse was disturbed to see that a wide bank of fog was coming in towards them. The sun was quickly blotted out and suddenly it was very cold. He glanced across at Gus and was surprised to see that the lad’s usually cheerful expression was quite absent; instead he was frowning, his normally smiling mouth drawn down into a scowl. Sensing Josse’s eyes on him, he shivered and said, ‘Not much of a place this, Sir Josse. Wish you’d left me to sleep in my warm bed.’
‘Aye, Gussie, I agree, and I’m sorry I had to bring you,’ Josse replied. ‘It’s just that, as you see, it’s a lonely spot and I wanted company.’
Instantly Gus’s scowl melted. He looked faintly amazed, seemed to shrug, as if ridding himself of an unpleasant thought, and said, ‘Well, Sir Josse, I reckon it’s me who should say sorry, for moaning at you like that.’ Slowly he shook his head. ‘Can’t think what came over me, but for a moment there it seemed as if all the light and joy in the world had been sucked away.’
Oh, dear Lord, Josse thought. He waited until he was sure he could speak normally and then said, ‘All right now?’
‘Yes,’ Gus said stoutly. ‘Let’s ride on!’
They rode for another couple of miles along the shore. Presently they saw a large, dark shape looming up out of the swirling mist. Drawing closer, they made out a squat structure, its stark walls unbroken by any embrasure or window; it was in fact more like a fort or a guard tower than a human habitation. Perhaps, Josse thought, that was what it was. It must surely be Philippe de Loup’s stronghold, and he was grateful now for the concealing fog. Were anyone up on those forbidding walls looking out, they would find it difficult to spot Josse and Gus.
They rode right up to the tower. It stood on a low rise, and all around it was a deep ditch filled with roughly hewn stone and stuck with poles whose ends had been sharpened into spikes. There did not appear to be any means of entry. Slowly Josse circled the walls and on the far side, facing inland, discovered a heavy, iron-bound oak door. It was fast shut and there seemed no way of getting across to it. Above the massive door, there was a series of three arrow slits; within, he realized, must be the room above the entrance of which the guard had spoken.
Gus had been going round the fortress in the opposite direction. Coming face to face with Josse, he said, ‘There’s the door, but how do they get to it?’
‘They probably sprout big black wings and fly,’ Josse said lightly.
Gus’s face fell. ‘Oh, don’t, Sir Josse,’ he whispered. ‘Not here.’
Josse had to concede that the lad had a point.
Gus had leaped down from his horse and was kneeling down on the bank of the ditch. After a moment, he said, ‘Sir, I think I can see how it’s done.’
I’m blessed if I can, Josse thought. Sliding off Horace’s back, he went to stand beside Gus. ‘How?’
‘See, there’s a way down this side of the ditch and it winds along the bottom for a bit, then goes up there — ’ he pointed — ‘to where there’s a sort of platform of earth just under the wall.’
‘But the wall’s solid,’ Josse observed. ‘There is no way in there, Gussie.’
Gus straightened up, still staring at the wall. He raised his eyes to look up, then down again, and then he repeated the action. He smiled. ‘Yes there is. They throw a rope with a hook up to the top of the wall and, when it bites, someone climbs up — it’s not far, only perhaps four men’s height — and they scramble over the battlements, down the steps, open the door and push out a plank bridge. Look, Sir Josse,’ he added, his voice high with excitement, ‘you can see where the planks have lain!’
He was right. The ground on the near side of the ditch opposite the door was beaten hard and flat. Now that Josse knew where to look, he could see what Gus had noticed: distinct marks and scratches up the wall above the little platform. Just the sort of marks that would result from someone climbing up repeatedly.
‘Well done, Gussie,’ Josse said with genuine admiration. ‘What a sharp pair of eyes you have, lad!’
Gus said modestly, ‘Oh, it was nothing.’ Then, as if embarrassed by the praise, he hurried on to say, ‘But why do they take such trouble, Sir Josse? D’you think there’s something really terrible inside that has to stay hidden away?’
Josse had not shared the dark guard’s revelations with his young companion; he simply said, ‘Aye, Gussie, I’m afraid there probably is.’
Gus nodded sagely. Then, ‘Reckon I could get us in there, providing there’s an access on the top. If you want to, that is?’
‘Oh, er, aye, I do want to, but it’s quite a climb, Gussie. It could be dangerous.’
Gus smiled. ‘I was a fairground entertainer before I was a lay brother,’ he said. ‘I can still tumble, turn somersaults and walk a tightrope, although I’ll admit there’s not much call for such tricks at Hawkenlye and the habit gets in the way. That little old wall is no great challenge to me.’
Josse returned the grin. ‘Pity we haven’t got a rope. We’ll have to-’
‘Aha!’ Gus got up, hurried over to his horse and drew down his saddlebags. Opening one, he said, ‘Rope, plus a pretty pack of food I wheedled out of that serving maid with the fair hair and the dimple, and a small flagon of beer.’
‘Now do you see why I didn’t allow you to stay in your bed? Gus, you’re a marvel!’
Gus was already swinging the long length of rope. ‘It’s not much use without a grappling hook,’ he said dejectedly, ‘and that was the one thing I didn’t think to bring.’
Josse was quite determined not to be beaten. Standing back a few paces from the ditch, he stared up at the crenellated top of the tower wall. ‘Can you swing a rope as well as climb one?’ he demanded.
‘Yes.’
‘Then what about that?’ He pointed. ‘Above the door and then to the right for a couple of arms’ length — see? There’s a place where there are two gaps in the parapet close together, and the raised stonework between them is quite narrow. Could you circle it with the rope?’
Gus looked, for what seemed quite a long time. Then he said, ‘Aye.’ Swiftly he made a running knot in one end of the rope, threaded the other end through it and swung the loop over his head a few times. He stepped up to the edge of the ditch, took careful aim and let the loop fly. The first and second times, it missed and the rope came snaking back down again; the third time, he found his range and the loop popped over the slim upraised section of wall and held fast. Holding on to the other end of the rope, Gus slipped quickly down into the ditch and up the other side and, before Josse could say anything except ‘Be careful!’ he was shinning up the rope.
Josse was so carried away with the thrill of what Gus had just achieved that for a perilous moment he had forgotten that falling into a ditch full of sharp stones and pointed stakes was not the only danger. As this realization flashed its urgent warning in his head, he called out, ‘Gussie! Come back!’
Gus paused, swung himself round so he could see Josse and said, ‘Why? What’s the matter?’
Trying to shout quietly, which was quite impossible, Josse said slowly and deliberately, ‘There may be people within.’
Gus paled. Instantly he slipped back down the rope and landed on soft feet on the little platform.
‘Leave the rope,’ Josse called, ‘but come back over here — we’ll watch for a while.’
Gus nodded his understanding and soon was back with Josse on the other side of the ditch. Quickly and quietly they fetched the horses, which had wandered away a short distance in search of grazing, and Gus replaced his saddlebags. Then they led their mounts over to where, inland from the fortress, three of the stunted, distorted trees huddled together. There were wind-blasted gorse bushes at their feet and they made as good a place of concealment as Josse and Gus were likely to find out there in the wilderness. They tethered the horses, then settled on the thin, spiky grass to begin their vigil.
As the morning wore on, the strengthening sun began to burn off the mist, helped by the returning south- westerly wind, but then, just as before, abruptly the wind fell and the mists rolled back again. No birds sang; all
