The midnight unicorn, p.1
The Midnight Unicorn, page 1
The Midnight Unicorn
The Midnight Unicorn
ALICE HEMMING
For Simon, Clara and Tom, with all my love and thanks.
CONTENTS
Cover
Dedication
Far Away in a Magical Land…
Chapter One
Five Years Later
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Thirteen Years Later
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Five Months Later
Chapter Fifteen
Alice Hemming Q&A
Acknowledgements
Copyright
FAR AWAY
IN A
MAGICAL LAND…
CHAPTER ONE
THE SNAPPED BOUGH
The city of Essendor stood on a hill, a stone castle at its summit. Small but sturdy houses were squeezed into every available space and stone steps twisted and turned down the hill. One warm day in early autumn the red swallowtail flags fluttered on the turrets of the castle. A new queen, just married, sat on the throne and there was a celebratory feel in the air. Bunting hung in the market square where some street performers had attracted a crowd.
An arched bridge led through a gap in the city’s walls and across the river to the fields beyond. Two young mothers crossed the bridge with their broods. One had an infant strapped to her back and the other held a child by the hand. Five more children walked or tottered along behind. The families were off to gather the first new berries of the season. They would each make a pie at the end of the day and if any berries were left over after baking, they would box them up to sell at the market. The hedgerows were so laden with fruit that they could pick blackberries all morning and never exhaust the supply.
Some of the older children minded the younger ones; the others got to work, although the purple stains around their mouths and the lack of fruit in their baskets gave them away.
The sweet, orangey smell of wild bergamot blew on the breeze. Time passed quickly, with singing, joking and city gossip. The women wondered about the price of goat’s cheese at the dairy stall, whether this warmer weather would last, and why the queen’s brother had left Essendor so suddenly.
They were so engrossed in their chat that they barely noticed one of their youngest break away in search of his own entertainment. An old willow tree with an inviting Y-shaped trunk stood close by. The little one climbed up with fearless agility. He inched along a bough which hung over the river below. On another day, all may have been well, but today the wind was blowing in the wrong direction or the stars were not aligned as they should be. The brittle bough, which had held fast all summer, snapped.
The sound of a branch splintering and a piercing shriek alerted the mothers. They dropped their baskets and rushed to the source of the cry, trying to piece together what had happened.
The child had fallen six feet and now clung on to a rock protruding from the steep bank above the river. He was just two summers old.
He saw his family looking and cried out in anguish. As the mother panicked, her eldest child began to scramble down the bank to retrieve him. But the descent was slow and the little one’s pink fists could not hold on. His grip loosened and he tumbled down the bank, head over heels in a sickening acrobatic display. He vanished under the water as the movement of the river turned him on to his stomach and carried him along.
The mother gasped as if winded and the elder sister screamed, “He can’t swim!”
The older children raced along the river, trying to keep up with the little boy as he tumbled along in the river’s current. The mothers followed, making sure that the younger ones were with them – they didn’t want to lose any more of their number. For a few yards, trees and overgrowth shielded the boy from view, then a little further along, the ground level dropped and there was a gap allowing access to the river. By the looks of things, anglers – possibly poachers – had fished there in the past. The families scrambled through and looked frantically up and down the river. The boy should have reached this point by now. His mother stared into the flowing water, holding on to her friend for support. The child was nowhere to be seen.
But then, from behind them, came a cry. A powerful cry, from a healthy little boy. There he was on the bank, shivering behind a bush, wet through but unharmed. His mother rushed to him, hugged him tightly to her chest, stripped off his clothes and wrapped her shawl around him. He was mottled and red from the cold and would soon be covered in bruises, but he was still able to cry lustily. His mother’s embraces and some blackberries from the basket soon soothed him.
The woman looked around for someone to thank. It was inconceivable that her son, who was unable to swim, could have made his way to the side of the rapidly flowing river and clambered up the steep bank. But there was no rescuer in sight.
“Who pulled you out?” she asked the child.
“’Orse,” said the little boy. “’Orse with a ’orn.” He indicated on his head where a horn might be found.
The two women looked at one another questioningly.
“A unicorn?” whispered the mother in disbelief.
The boy nodded. “One ’orn.”
“Was the unicorn silver?” asked the friend, who knew a thing or two about such animals. “With a spiralling horn and a flowing mane?”
The boy shook his head. “Like midnight.”
“A midnight unicorn,” whispered the mother to her friend. And louder into the empty woods, “Unicorn, if you are here, thank you for saving my child!”
From that day, he was known as the Boy River. His story spread quickly across the city and he enjoyed some fame, which was soon forgotten. But the Boy River never forgot that he was the first to set eyes on the Midnight Unicorn of Essendor.
FIVE
YEARS
LATER
CHAPTER TWO
THE PROTECTED CITY
There were the usual daily grumbles. Sometimes the crops failed. The price of goat’s cheese remained high. The local tavern shut too early on a Saturday. But overall, this was a happy time for the inhabitants of Essendor, and bigger disasters were averted. Three straw-thatched cottages burned to the ground in the night but all the inhabitants escaped unhurt. A wolf was seen creeping into a field of sheep but not a single animal was harmed. Foreign invaders approached from the Island of the North but were thwarted at Essendor’s gates.
And always there were reports of a mysterious unicorn, with sparkling jet fur and a shimmering white horn. Many of the spectacular rescues took place in the dead of night, which gave the creature its moniker. To the inhabitants of Essendor, their protector was known as the Midnight Unicorn.
Every day, the king and queen looked down on their subjects and smiled. Their city was protected and their people were happy. What was more, the royal couple had good news of their own.
The queen was to be blessed with a child.
THE SIGN
Nanny selected a speckled brown hen’s egg from a bowl on the side. It had been gathered this morning by the kitchen hand.
What the queen needed was a good, nourishing breakfast to give her strength and to help the baby grow. The cook here couldn’t be trusted – he was an imbecile who served all manner of strange things for the royal breakfast, like bread and fruit. Nanny would just have to make it herself: a bowl of scrambled eggs with lots of butter and ground white pepper.
Nanny cracked the egg into a bowl. The clear white slid out of the shell, complete with not one, but two, rich yellow yolks. Nanny stared for a moment. A double-yolk. She had not seen such a thing for some time. All the better for the queen: a lot of the goodness in a hen’s egg came from the yolk. She reached for another egg and cracked it alongside the first. Four yolks now bobbed in the bowl. Two eggs, each with two yolks? This was highly unusual. Nanny clapped her hands to her cheeks. “It’s a sign!” she cried. “A sign, as clear as day.”
The kitchen hand and the scullery maid came rushing in to see what all the shrieking was about. Nanny held out the bowl of unwhisked eggs and smiled broadly. “The queen is expecting twins,” she announced.
EGG ON THE DRAPES
Queen Bia did not take the news well. In fact, she threw the bowl of eggs across the room from her dressing table. “I do not want eggs. I do not like eggs. I am not unwell, I am simply with child. And I am not expecting twins!”
The lady’s maid sidled into the room with her head lowered and began scraping egg from the bed drapes. The king threw her a sympathetic look and cleared his throat.
“Nanny did say that it was quite clear. Two yolks, twice in a row.”
“Ha!” said the queen. “I am not taking the word of a servant on such matters. This is all silly superstition.”
“She is not a servant, my love. She is my trusted nanny. And she has been right about many things over the years. She predicted the death of the old footman, Bourke, do not forget.”
“Bourke was one hundred and twelve! I can assure you that my breakfast menu has no connection whatsoever to my unborn child. It was not even my breakfast of choice.”
The king paced up and down the bedroom. “I know she can be old-fashioned but it would be unwise to ignore such a clear sign. Nanny has some experienc e in such matters. She cared for me and my six siblings from when we were just babes in arms.”
“This is the woman who told me not to play the piano while I am with child, as it will make them too flighty!” complained the queen. “I will not accept servants’ fancies; I need to consult someone I trust. Send for my sorcerer.”
THE SORCERER
The young sorcerer, Maneo, was a favourite of the queen. Nobody knew quite where he had come from but it was well known that he had served his apprenticeship with a great master. When he was ready to practise on his own, he came to Essendor. News of his prowess in the magical arts soon reached the royal court. He was different to the old seers and magicians who set up homes in the south of the city. His spells were experimental but precise. He cured a mute woman who had not spoken for seventeen years. He transformed a billy goat to a nanny goat, which gave the creamiest milk for miles.
The queen summoned him to cast spells for her pleasure. He permanently freed the roses in the royal garden from pests. Now they bloomed all year and rivalled any in the kingdom. To mark the king and queen’s anniversary, he turned the water in the castle fountain into the finest champagne. Queen Bia quickly gave him a place within the royal court, including his own quarters and all the specialist equipment he needed.
There was something about Maneo’s manner that pleased the queen. Others at court flattered her and told her pretty lies, but Maneo was not like that. He may have been a sorcerer but he dealt with facts.
Right now, he stood looking dispassionately at the queen’s newly pregnant belly. His face was young but his eyes were old and he might have been handsome if only he had smiled. He had a very small pointed beard and wore a floppy yellow hat with a black feather tucked into its brim – his only frivolity. He carried a wand that was black and fine, like a switch. Right now, he turned it over and over with his slender figures.
“There are certain spells I can cast to protect you and the newborn. Would you like me to proceed?”
The queen nodded and smiled. She enjoyed watching him work. Maneo looked to the ceiling, hands raised on either side of his head, and began to mumble – a string of unintelligible sounds that grew louder until he was almost shouting. He swished the wand around him, creating a sparkly sheen in the room, like dust caught in a shaft of sunlight.
“This charm of protection will last for six new moons – enough to take you through your confinement. As long as the birth takes place in this room, then your health and that of the newborn is guaranteed.”
“Thank you, Maneo,” said the queen.
Maneo inclined his head towards her. “And would you like a guard to watch over you and the new baby?”
The king nodded. “Yes. That would put all our minds at rest.”
This time Maneo took the black feather from his hat, threw it in the air and pointed his wand towards it, his arm extending swiftly. There was a screech and a blaze of blue light in the corner of the room. The king and queen both jumped at the sound and then laughed, embarrassed.
A large bird with black feathers, a black beak and a flash of white at its throat perched on the washstand. A raven. The sorcerer approached the bird, which seemed perfectly tame, and ran a long pale finger lightly along its head and back. The raven did not appear to mind his touch.
“This is Corvus. He will sit in the corner of the room to watch over you. He will not disturb you and does not require food or water. If you leave the window open then he will attend to his own needs.”
“The fresh air will be welcome,” said the queen.
The king raised his eyebrows. “An … unusual childminder.”
“Not at all,” said the sorcerer. “Ravens make excellent guards. They are highly sensitive, intelligent communicators and display great loyalty.”
Right now, the raven did not appear to be doing any communicating. He nestled his head under his wing and closed his eyes.
“I like him,” said the queen.
“If he pleases you, my dear, then we shall keep him. But Maneo, we invited you here with a specific question,” said the king. “There has been a suggestion that the queen may be carrying more than one child. Can you confirm or deny this?”
Maneo shook his head slowly and steepled his fingers. “Alas, this is a skill I do not possess. I have practised alchemy and potion making but I cannot predict the future. The craft of fortune telling is less precise than my own. It requires a level of intuition and faith that I cannot claim. For that you need a seer.”
THE SEER
The seer from the town was brought to the queen’s bedchamber that very afternoon. She was old: older than anyone else in the city. No one could remember her as a girl apart from the old footman Bourke, before he had passed. It took a long time for her to climb the steps of the south tower. When she entered the queen’s chamber she stood still for some time, regaining her breath. She looked out of the window, beyond the city’s walls, and shook her head in amazement. “Such a view you have, from the very top of the castle. I have never climbed so high. Not even in my youth, when I would think nothing of ascending the Grey Mountain.”
She paused, remembering. “I would strip as naked as the day I was born and bathe in the waterfall up there. Not a soul to see me apart from the birds.”
Corvus cawed and the seer coughed, a hacking cough that went on for some moments. The king smiled politely. “Can we get you anything? Some sweet mint tea, perhaps?” He pointed to the silver teapot at the queen’s bedside.
The seer shook her head, still coughing, and continued staring out of the window. “From here, I have the view of a bird. I can see the city laid out below us.” Her coughing eased and she raised a hand. “I can also see the future coming. It is a dark cloud. Great change is on its way. And where is the Midnight Unicorn? The creature has not been seen for some weeks. Will it be there to protect Essendor in our time of need?”
She turned and stared at the queen.
Queen Bia said nothing, but gazed out of the window as if she too could see the dark cloud.
The king nodded. “And so … can we attend to the matter at hand? The royal baby – or babies.”
The seer nodded. She walked to the bedside and unlaced the queen’s outer robes, placing her hands on the gentle swell of the queen’s belly.
“I will need your wedding ring,” said the seer. The queen twisted the narrow band of gold from her ring finger. She handed it to the seer, who threaded it on to a long green silken thread.
“What?” said the king. “We bring this woman all the way up here and she performs the old ring on a string trick? Anyone can do that! Nanny did it on my mother. The string swung back and forth and she knew I was a boy.”
The seer spoke quietly. “Anyone can make a lucky guess. Sometimes, the signs need someone who can actually read them.”
The queen narrowed her eyes at her husband. “Yes, let the seer do her job.”
The king slumped into a chair and said nothing more. The seer dangled the wedding ring over the belly of the queen. It remained motionless. Then the seer began to hum – a strange, low sound like a lullaby. The ring began to move, slowly in a circle, and then faster, turning round and around in a clockwise direction.
“A daughter,” said the seer, her voice barely above a whisper. “A strong and healthy daughter.”
The ring stopped moving and the queen smiled at her husband. “A healthy daughter. Just the one.”
The seer put her crooked finger in the air for silence. “Wait!”
The ring on the thread started moving again, circling in the opposite direction. The motion was barely perceptible but gradually grew quicker, as it had done the first time.
The seer nodded. “It seems the signs were true. There is another daughter. A twin. Her voice is not as strong as the first, but she is there. They are growing alongside each other.”
The queen sat up in bed and held her head. “No! It cannot be true! I do not want it to be true!” This time she threw her teacup on the floor, which didn’t make nearly as much mess as the egg had done.
The lady’s maid swept up and reported back to Nanny and they both shook their heads and smiled. It was natural for any woman to be worried about her firstborn. And of course that worry would increase with a multiple birth. “She will soon get used to the idea and see this for the blessing it is,” said Nanny.
