that shelf."
The eggs were those of mountain birds, some big and speckled, others plain white. Karay
handed Arnela the basket. "I thought you'd be making a stew of goat meat," the girl said.
The big woman fixed her with an icy glare. "Goat? People in their right mind don't eat goat, it
makes them silly. I wouldn't dream of eating my goats, they're my children. I'll make you a
special treat of mine. Mountain bread and herbs with good goat cheese, 'tis my secret recipe,
you'll like it."
Arnela was right, they did like her secret recipe. The food was homely and delicious. As they
ate, Dominic related their story, from the day of their arrival at the village fair up to their
encounter the previous night with Gizal, the blind woman. Arnela listened intently, showing
great interest whenever Adamo's name was mentioned.
When Dominic finished, the goatherd lady sat staring into the fire. "So, you have taken on a
mission to save the comte's nephew. 'Tis a brave and courageous thing you do. But let me
warn you, the perils and dangers of going up against the Razan could cost you your lives—
they are an evil brood!"
Ben could not help remarking, "You live in these mountains, marm, but they don't seem to
bother you. How is that?"
A baby goat wandered into the cavern, bleating piteously. The big woman took it on her lap
and stroked it gently until it fell silent and dozed off in the warmth. Then she began telling the
friends her own history.
"I come from Andorra, high in these mountains, between France and Spain. I knew neither
mother nor father, the only life I had was that of a tavern drudge, even as a very young girl.
The owner said that gypsies left me on his doorstep one night. The townsfolk were scared of
me, they said I was a mountain giant. I was big, you see. Though I was only young, I was
taller, broader and stronger than anybody. By the time I was ten, all the local boys had given
up teasing me, because I had beaten most of them soundly for their cruel taunts and jibes. My
life was not a happy one. I slept in the stables, with donkeys and mules for company. Then
the day came—I must have been nearly twenty years of age. One evening in the tavern, the
mayor's brother, a fat pompous lout who had been drinking overmuch, began making sport of
me. I ignored him, which made his mood turn nasty. As I passed by with a trayful of food and
drink he stuck out his foot, and I tripped and fell heavily— meat, ale, dishes and tankards
were everywhere. The owner came running across the room and started beating me for my
clumsiness. Well, I got up and laid them both out with a blow apiece, the tavern owner and
the mayor's brother. The guards and constables were sent for. I fought them, but they were too
many for me, and I was dragged off and thrown in prison. It was more a kind of outhouse than
a real dungeon. While the mayor and the citizens' committee were meeting to plan some
dreadful punishment for my crimes, I broke through the roof, which was only thatch and old
timber, and escaped!"
Dominic, his parchment and charcoals before him, was drawing Arnela as she sat talking to
them. He chuckled. "You've certainly led an adventurous life, my friend. What happened after
that?"
Arnela stared at her strong, weather-tanned hands. "I ran away and went to live among these
mountains and the forests below, knowing the townsfolk wouldn't dare follow me into Razan
territory. Nobody except outlaws dwell in this region."
Karay sat with her chin cupped in both hands, her eyes shining with admiration for the brave
goatherd. "But weren't you afraid of the Razan?"
The big woman scoffed. "They knew I was a fugitive from the law. Their menfolk didn't
bother me, but several of the Razan women tried to intimidate me. Hah! I sent them on their
way nursing bruises and broken limbs, I can tell you. Especially the ones who tried to steal
my goats. The Razan tend to leave me alone these days, and that's the way I like it!"
Picking the baby goat up tenderly, Arnela laid it gently on a stack of dried grass. "I think I'll
call that one Morpheus, he's done little else but sleep since he was born. Dominic, you
mentioned Adamo before. Let me tell you, I know him."
and sighed. "Several times over the years I saw the boy, always being hauled back to the
Razan caves after trying to escape. My heart warmed to him at first sight, because he was big
like me, and strong, too. You only had to look at him and you knew even from behind that it
was Adamo, a mountain of a young man!
"Anyhow, let me tell you. One night, about a month ago, it began to storm and rain. So, I
went out to the cliffs to gather my goats in here, out of the weather. That was when I saw him
—he was hiding in the rocks like a hunted animal, hungry and soaked to the skin. I brought
him into this very cave, dried him and gave him food. At first I thought he was a mute
because he sat by my fire half the night without saying a single word, just gazing at me with
those beautiful brown eyes of his. But gradually I got him to talk. Adamo did not know who
his mother or father were, but he could remember a big house where he thought he may once
have lived or stayed. He could recall a kindly old gentleman and a nice old lady, but that was
all. One thing he was sure of, though, he didn't belong with the Razan—their mountain caves
were a prison to him. The old one, Maguda Razan, kept telling Adamo that she was his
grandmother and the only kin he had living in the world. Poor Adamo, he begged her to let
him go free, but Maguda refused. His hatred of being made to live in the company of robbers
and murderers drove him to try to escape. He never got far—Razan men hunted him down and
brought him back to the caves. Adamo was normally a quiet, lonely boy, but after he was first
recaptured he refused to speak with any Razan, particularly Maguda. Many times as he grew
he tried to escape and break away over the years. Each time he was brought back. Maguda
threatened him with all manner of horrible things, but this did not stop Adamo.
"He told me all this that night I hid him in my cave. Came the dawn, I awoke to find he had
gone. Soon after, a band of Razan came here and searched the area. Ligran Razan was their
leader. He's worse than all his brothers put together, that one. A big mastiff dog he brought
with him picked up Adamo's scent, and away they went, a pack of wild animals led by a wild
animal! I haven't seen Adamo since, pray heaven and all the saints that the poor boy escaped
this time. I haven't seem them dragging him back either, so at least that's something to keep
my hopes up. Though you can never tell with the Razan—maybe they captured him and took
him back by another route."
Ben felt enormous sympathy for Arnela. "Don't worry, marm, when we get to their hideout
we'll find him, if he's there. If not, we'll scour all of France and Spain until we can return
Adamo to his uncle in Veron."
Dominic presented her with his finished picture. "Thanks for your help, Arnela. I hope you
like this, I did it for you in thanks for your help and hospitality."
The facemaker had portrayed Arnela in profile, sitting with the baby goat on her lap by the
fire. Beauty and
simplicity of heart radiated from the parchment. Every line and weather mark
on the big goatherd's ruddy features caught her kindliness and strength of humanity.
Her voice was husky with reverence for the artist's skill. "Dominic, I have never seen anything
like this, 'tis a wondrous thing. I will keep it on my driest wall. It will always remind me of
you, my good friends. Now, is there anything I can do to help you? Just ask. Anything?"
Ned leaned his chin on Arnela's knee and gazed up at her. "This wonderful person would
come with us, I know she would. But the goats are her children—what would become of them
if she left the herd to go off adventuring with us?"
Ben caught Ned's thought and spoke his answer aloud. "Oh, don't trouble yourself, marm,
we'll be alright. Though I'd like you to keep watch for us on our return. We may need to get
out of these mountains pretty fast."
Arnela stroked behind Ned's ears. "I'll watch night and day for a sign of you. Now you must
rest, it's safer to travel by night if you want to avoid discovery. Lie down now, children."
They lay warm and cosy on the dried grass, Ned with his eyes half closed, watching Arnela
mending their torn cloaks with goat-hair twine and a large bone needle.
Just before the Labrador dropped off, he heard her gathering grass and murmuring to the goats
who had strayed inside. "Hush now, Ajax, and you too, Pantyro, let the young 'uns sleep.
They've got enough to contend with, or they will have soon. Come on, now, outside, all of
you, have dinner out in the fresh air. Clovis, can't you do something about that kid of yours,
I've never seen such bad manners. Out with you!"
Lulled by the safety of the cave and its flickering firelit shadows, Ned sent Ben a message. "I
wouldn't mind being one of Arnela's goats, they certainly get the best of treatment and care
from her. Hmm, maybe not, though. Goats are a pretty thick lot, I'd never be able to put up
with all that maaahing and baaaing, would you, mate?"
But his thoughts fell on deaf ears. Ben, Dominic and Karay were already soundly slumbering.
Ben had the feeling that it was evening outside when Arnela wakened them. She had bowls of
vegetable soup and some bread and honey prepared for them.
"Eat plenty now, young 'uns, it might be some time before you get another good meal. Here,
I've fixed up your cloaks as best as I could—needlework was never my strong point. I've
packed a little food for you, and I've thrown in one of my extra ropes and an ice axe, you'll
need them."
Having eaten, the four companions went outside to take their farewells of their newfound
friend. It was cold. Frost glittered on the rocks, and the sky above was a vault of dark velvet,
pierced by a million pinpoints of bright starlight and a pale lemon-rind slice of moon.
Arnela's formidable arms encircled their shoulders. "Go now, and take all my fondest wishes
with you. Stay to the right winding paths—avoid the left ones, or you'll finish up stranded on
some ledge. Lead them off, Ned, you good dog. Go on, don't look back, and tread carefully."
They trudged away with Arnela's voice fading behind them. "Come out of that water, Theseus,
d'you want your hair to freeze? Narcissus, stop looking at yourself in the pool. Clovis, don't
act silly, I've got your kid here with me. Come on, all inside now, that means you, too,
Pantyro!"
22
NIGHT IN THE high mountains was like being stranded on some strange planet. Silence
reigned. In the clear air, every sound was magnified and echoed. The travellers walked
gingerly onward, keeping their voices to hushed whispers lest they betray their position to
anyone in the vicinity. It was hard going, all upward, and each pace had to be made carefully
across the eerie expanses of white snow and ice and black pockets of shadow.
They had been going for two hours or more when Karay's breath plumed out like steam as she
whispered to Dominic, "Hadn't we better rest awhile and catch our breath?"
Ben heard her and called a halt. He chose a spot in the deep shadows of a crag to one side of
the path. No sooner had they installed themselves there than voices were heard.
Ned's ears rose as he contacted Ben. "Sounds like two men. Good job we got in here out of
the way."
It was the fat rogue Cutpurse and a weaselly-looking older fellow called Abrit. They shuffled
by within twenty feet of where the friends were hiding. Cutpurse stopped, leaning on a staff
he was using as a crutch, and scanned the ground suspiciously. "Look, there's tracks here!"
There was obviously no love lost between the two men, for Abrit treated Cutpurse as if he
were a half-wit. It showed in his voice. "Of course there's tracks, lard gut, they're the tracks
we made on the way up. Look, there's the dog's paw prints out in front. Come on, stop slowin'
me down or we'll never find Rouge an' Domba, or the dog. Now what's the matter?"
Cutpurse lowered himself painfully and sat down on the snow. "My ankle's killin' me, it's
agony to walk any further. Listen, why don't we find someplace where we can lay up for the
night? Then tomorrow we can catch up with the rest an' tell 'em there was no sign of Rouge,
Domba or Gurz. We're just killin' ourselves, blunderin' round in the dark!"
Abrit scoffed at the idea. "Hah! Alright, we'll do that. But when we get back, I ain't sayin'
nothin'. You tell Ligran Razan you couldn't find 'em. How does that sound to ye, eh?"
Cutpurse pouted childishly and nursed his injured ankle. "That Ligran's got it in for me—he'd
slay me as soon as look at me. Cruel, that's what it is. Sendin' a man out on a search with a
broken foot. Huh, just wants t'be rid of me, Ligran does!"
Abrit nodded. "Me too. I've never got on well with Ligran. So, all the more reason for findin'
Rouge an' Domba. We'll be savin' our own lives by doin' the job. On your feet, fatty!"
Cutpurse began to rise. Then a thought occurred to him. "I think we're goin' the wrong way.
Look, there's only tracks goin' upward. Where's the tracks Rouge an' Domba left when they
came down? I can't see any."
Abrit scratched his head. "Y'could be right there. They must've been searchin' on another path.
Maybe over the side of the icefield yonder. We'd best go an' take a look!"
Ben breathed a silent sigh of relief as they watched the two robbers hobbling off over the
wide, lumpy icefield, which sloped away to their left. Karay whispered. "Thank goodness our
trail was mixed up with the tracks of the others."
The two robbers were about a third of the way into the icefield when Ben turned to Karay.
"Do you feel rested enough to carry on now?"
The girl began making her way forward indignantly, muttering to herself, "Of course I am! It
wasn't just me who needed a rest, you two were panting worse than Ned!"
To prove her point she dashed out of cover, accidentally stepping on an ice-covered bit of
rock. Her feet left the ground, and she thudded backward. An involuntary cry came from her
as she fell flat on her back. "Yeek!"
The sound echoed sharply out into the surrounding peaks.
Out on the icefield, Cutpurse and Abrit halted abruptly. Cutpurse waved his staff triumphantly.
"They're the ones Ligran wants—come on, let's get 'em!"
Abrit shouldered his companion to one side. "Out o' my way, ye fool, I'll stop 'em!" Pulling a
musket fr
om his belt he fired a shot across the cliffside at the girl lying on the ground. The
report echoed like thunder.
Ben blinked as the musket ball pinged off the rock behind him. The two robbers were
scrambling across the icefield toward them, shouting at them to halt. Then the noise started: a
dull muffled sound from above, building up into one massive rumble, growing louder by the
second.
Krrrraaaaacvwwwwwk!
Dominic dived out and dragged Karay by her feet back under the shelter of the rock. Then he
pulled Ben as deep into the shadow as possible. Ned galloped to his master's side.
Dominic's voice was almost lost in the unearthly roar. "Avalanche! Avalanche!"
Powdered snow, hard snow, sheets and columns of ice mixed with rocks, scree, shale and
boulders came thundering down as a huge wedge of the mountain, disturbed by the gunshot,
toppled down onto the icefield.
Cutpurse and Abrit died where they stood and were swept away by nature's irresistible force.
Ben, Ned, Karay and Dominic, bundled together in the rock's shadow, hugged one another
tightly. A monstrous single wall of ice scrunched by, halting with an immense grating crack
between the overhanging rock top and the path they had intended to follow. Everything went
black, dark as an underground dungeon. Their eardrums reverberated with the thudding, solid
waterfall of snow that pounded outside against rock and ice.
This was followed by a silence so complete that it made a ringing sound inside their heads. As
rapidly as it had started, the avalanche was over.
Ben's voice sounded muffled as he spoke the words that came to him from Ned. "Is anyone
hurt, are we all here?"
Their arms were still around one another as Karay and Dominic replied out of the stygian
darkness.
"I bruised my shoulder when I slipped, but I'm still alive."
"More than we can say for those Razan villains, I suppose."
Ben shuddered at the thought of the two men's fate. "Nothing can have lived out there. 'Twas
like the end of the world. Ned feels nice and warm, though."
The black Labrador licked Ben's hand. "That's the sweat of pure panic. I think they call it the
heat of the moment."