around, from one to the next, he had the peculiar sense that while his mind was all too painfully present, his body drifted in a dream.
“How many steps altogether?” he called out.
“Two hundred and sixteen,” came the reply.
Bobby gripped the rope with both hands and hauled himself deeper into the darkness. Mad thoughts rattled around inside him, like a bird trapped in a chimney, and every step did nothing but add weight to his conviction that he should turn and try to find his way back out.
They seemed to have been walking up the steps for hours when Bobby finally stumbled out into some sort of chamber. And suddenly he could smell timber, could hear the steady knock of clockwork, both of which had some humanity to them and gave him hope that he might yet live to tell the tale.
He rested his hands on his knees until he got his breath back. A little moonlight came in through the louvers and dusted the shoulders of six vast bells. They hung at headheight, with great wooden wheels beside them, like the ones on firemen’s ladders. The bells could have been cut from granite and Bobby got the impression that they didn’t much care for their visitors and was carefully making his way around them when Aldred called out and he looked up to find him on the other side of the belfry, floating in midair. Neither boy was particularly troubled by Aldred’s levitation. He was pinned to the wall but seemed not to be suffering. Bobby felt more asleep than awake, but he blinked and kept on blinking until he finally grasped that Aldred was on a ladder between the roof and floor.
“Mind the rungs near the top,” Aldred called down into the chamber. “They’re rotten.” Then he carried on climbing.
By the time Bobby had made his way around the bells’ cradle and reached the foot of the ladder Aldred was opening the hatch in the roof and clambering out of sight, leaving a neat square of stars for Bobby to aim toward. He put his foot on the bottom rung and set off, rather warily, and was halfway up when the ladder began to bow in and out and he had to stop and wait for it to settle. Below, the six bells continued their colossal meditation. The room was their temple—their nursery. Then Bobby set off again, inching ever upward, until Aldred popped out among the stars and held out his hand.
“Come on, London boy,” he said.
It was like stepping out onto a tiny, sky-bound courtyard. The village’s roofs buckled far below and the moon lit up a landscape which was bigger and more barren than any Bobby had seen before. Perhaps it was the effect of the fresh air working on him or, despite his earlier assurances, he was just giddy from having left the ground so far behind.Either way, the moment he set foot on the roof his legs turned to lead and he waddled about on them like a sailor stepping back onto the quay.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” said Aldred.
Bobby nodded, and for a while they just leaned against the battlements, with the wind ruffling their feathers and nudging the weathervane up on its spike. Then Aldred stepped into the middle of the roof and stretched out his right arm and pointed down the valley.
“Miss Minter’s,” he said.
He swung his arm around to his right.
“Totnes,” he said.
He kept on like this, picking out houses, nearby villages, the river, the sea. He swung his arms around like a policeman directing traffic, as if whole towns and tides were queueing in the dark. Then he went back over to Bobby and leaned on the ramparts and nodded at an old stone barn a mile or two outside the village, with a sloping roof which caught the moonlight, and as they looked at it Aldred asked Bobby if he ever wondered about the pyramids.
“What pyramids?” he said.
“The pyramids in Ancient Egypt,” said Aldred. “And all the gold they buried with the dead boy king.”
Bobby had never heard of Ancient Egypt. He had a good idea what a pyramid looked like, but was not about to pit his piddling wisdom
“How many steps altogether?” he called out.
“Two hundred and sixteen,” came the reply.
Bobby gripped the rope with both hands and hauled himself deeper into the darkness. Mad thoughts rattled around inside him, like a bird trapped in a chimney, and every step did nothing but add weight to his conviction that he should turn and try to find his way back out.
They seemed to have been walking up the steps for hours when Bobby finally stumbled out into some sort of chamber. And suddenly he could smell timber, could hear the steady knock of clockwork, both of which had some humanity to them and gave him hope that he might yet live to tell the tale.
He rested his hands on his knees until he got his breath back. A little moonlight came in through the louvers and dusted the shoulders of six vast bells. They hung at headheight, with great wooden wheels beside them, like the ones on firemen’s ladders. The bells could have been cut from granite and Bobby got the impression that they didn’t much care for their visitors and was carefully making his way around them when Aldred called out and he looked up to find him on the other side of the belfry, floating in midair. Neither boy was particularly troubled by Aldred’s levitation. He was pinned to the wall but seemed not to be suffering. Bobby felt more asleep than awake, but he blinked and kept on blinking until he finally grasped that Aldred was on a ladder between the roof and floor.
“Mind the rungs near the top,” Aldred called down into the chamber. “They’re rotten.” Then he carried on climbing.
By the time Bobby had made his way around the bells’ cradle and reached the foot of the ladder Aldred was opening the hatch in the roof and clambering out of sight, leaving a neat square of stars for Bobby to aim toward. He put his foot on the bottom rung and set off, rather warily, and was halfway up when the ladder began to bow in and out and he had to stop and wait for it to settle. Below, the six bells continued their colossal meditation. The room was their temple—their nursery. Then Bobby set off again, inching ever upward, until Aldred popped out among the stars and held out his hand.
“Come on, London boy,” he said.
It was like stepping out onto a tiny, sky-bound courtyard. The village’s roofs buckled far below and the moon lit up a landscape which was bigger and more barren than any Bobby had seen before. Perhaps it was the effect of the fresh air working on him or, despite his earlier assurances, he was just giddy from having left the ground so far behind.Either way, the moment he set foot on the roof his legs turned to lead and he waddled about on them like a sailor stepping back onto the quay.
“That’s better, isn’t it?” said Aldred.
Bobby nodded, and for a while they just leaned against the battlements, with the wind ruffling their feathers and nudging the weathervane up on its spike. Then Aldred stepped into the middle of the roof and stretched out his right arm and pointed down the valley.
“Miss Minter’s,” he said.
He swung his arm around to his right.
“Totnes,” he said.
He kept on like this, picking out houses, nearby villages, the river, the sea. He swung his arms around like a policeman directing traffic, as if whole towns and tides were queueing in the dark. Then he went back over to Bobby and leaned on the ramparts and nodded at an old stone barn a mile or two outside the village, with a sloping roof which caught the moonlight, and as they looked at it Aldred asked Bobby if he ever wondered about the pyramids.
“What pyramids?” he said.
“The pyramids in Ancient Egypt,” said Aldred. “And all the gold they buried with the dead boy king.”
Bobby had never heard of Ancient Egypt. He had a good idea what a pyramid looked like, but was not about to pit his piddling wisdom
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