‘That – and by you listening to me, Blip.’
Moll frowned. ‘Who’s Blip?’
‘
You
. Means a small mistake – and that’s what you are. It’ll do while I don’t know your name.’ He let his head fall back against the bars. ‘You
mucked up, Blip.’
‘I got us out of the pit,’ Moll muttered.
‘No. You got us
into
a cage. And I had a way out of the pit, only you didn’t stick around long enough to learn it.’ He looked away. ‘Took me ages, but I tunnelled
through the soil with my hands and penknife when Skull locked me down there before. I covered it up though – added the loose soil to the sides of the pit.’
Moll’s eyes widened.
Alfie went on. ‘The camp don’t realise the pit’s been changing shape. Not like they spend any time down there . . . Looked just like ordinary soil – only the patch I dug
was soft and, once you dragged out the loose stuff, you got to my tunnel.’ He shot Moll a withering look. ‘And it was big enough to crawl through.’
Moll bit her lip. ‘Must’ve taken
ages
. How long were you down there?’
Alfie fiddled with his tattered waistcoat. ‘Long enough. Not that it matters now.’
Moll wondered about mumbling an apology, then she remembered how much she hated Alfie and looked down at the clearing. Gobbler stalked towards the fire to collect the sausages, then he stole
back inside Skull’s wagon.
Alfie took the roll of leather from his pocket. ‘Now the light’s up we need to read this fast.’
Again Moll saw her initials burned into the outside of the leather, but what unnerved her most was the wording below:
From the Maiden
. Again. She turned cold inside. Why were her
pa’s bone reading
and
the leather roll so bent on sending her into the hands of someone who might well be a bone-grinding lunatic? She glanced at the seal on the leather; it was black,
like an imprint of the night. Moll steeled herself. She wouldn’t allow fear to snatch back her plan of finding the amulets and avenging her parents. She turned to Alfie, her eyes narrowed.
‘Where d’you find this anyway?’
‘Tucked inside one of the oaks I was hiding behind when Gobbler and me came for you at your camp. Didn’t think much of it until I saw the bones inside your talisman.’
Alfie unrolled the leather while Moll scowled beside him. The inside was covered with black words and each one had been burned into the leather. Moll tensed. This was something that belonged to
her
and Alfie had no right to it. She swiped for it but Alfie held it close.
‘Read it to me,’ he said sternly.
Moll glared at him, then looked down at the burnt lettering. She was silent for a few seconds, and then, very quietly, she said, ‘You can tell a lot about a person from their
handwriting.’
‘Load of old squiggles to me,’ Alfie muttered.
Moll shook her head. ‘Mooshie says writing’s like a clue to what a person’s like. Big bends in the g, f, j and q mean a person’s greedy; small loops in the a, d, e and o
mean a person’s tight-fisted . . .’ She was fighting for time, trying her best to read the words in her head while blabbing away to Alfie.
Alfie shoved her in the back. ‘Just get on and read it, will you?’
Moll arched her eyebrows. Just a little longer. ‘Those wispy dashes across the t and f there mean this person’s clever-thinking.’
‘Look,’ Alfie growled, ‘we’ve got to read this and get out of here. We don’t have time for this.’
Moll’s mind was racing. Suppose this was a message only
she
was meant to see? But she
needed
Alfie; he was her only way out and for now she had to trust him. She took a deep
breath. ‘It’s a poem,’ she said slowly. Then she started to read aloud:
‘MANY AND MANY A FOOTSTEP FROM YOU,
IN A HOVEL AMONG THE GORSE,
A WILD MAIDEN LIVES WHOM MOST ESCHEW,
BY MARSHLAND AND HEATHER GROWN COARSE.
THIS MAIDEN SHE WAITS FOR THE CHILD TO APPEAR,
TO MEET ON A HILL TURNED BLACK,
FOR DARKNESS IS SPREADING, STIRRING SO NEAR
Moll frowned. ‘Who’s Blip?’
‘
You
. Means a small mistake – and that’s what you are. It’ll do while I don’t know your name.’ He let his head fall back against the bars. ‘You
mucked up, Blip.’
‘I got us out of the pit,’ Moll muttered.
‘No. You got us
into
a cage. And I had a way out of the pit, only you didn’t stick around long enough to learn it.’ He looked away. ‘Took me ages, but I tunnelled
through the soil with my hands and penknife when Skull locked me down there before. I covered it up though – added the loose soil to the sides of the pit.’
Moll’s eyes widened.
Alfie went on. ‘The camp don’t realise the pit’s been changing shape. Not like they spend any time down there . . . Looked just like ordinary soil – only the patch I dug
was soft and, once you dragged out the loose stuff, you got to my tunnel.’ He shot Moll a withering look. ‘And it was big enough to crawl through.’
Moll bit her lip. ‘Must’ve taken
ages
. How long were you down there?’
Alfie fiddled with his tattered waistcoat. ‘Long enough. Not that it matters now.’
Moll wondered about mumbling an apology, then she remembered how much she hated Alfie and looked down at the clearing. Gobbler stalked towards the fire to collect the sausages, then he stole
back inside Skull’s wagon.
Alfie took the roll of leather from his pocket. ‘Now the light’s up we need to read this fast.’
Again Moll saw her initials burned into the outside of the leather, but what unnerved her most was the wording below:
From the Maiden
. Again. She turned cold inside. Why were her
pa’s bone reading
and
the leather roll so bent on sending her into the hands of someone who might well be a bone-grinding lunatic? She glanced at the seal on the leather; it was black,
like an imprint of the night. Moll steeled herself. She wouldn’t allow fear to snatch back her plan of finding the amulets and avenging her parents. She turned to Alfie, her eyes narrowed.
‘Where d’you find this anyway?’
‘Tucked inside one of the oaks I was hiding behind when Gobbler and me came for you at your camp. Didn’t think much of it until I saw the bones inside your talisman.’
Alfie unrolled the leather while Moll scowled beside him. The inside was covered with black words and each one had been burned into the leather. Moll tensed. This was something that belonged to
her
and Alfie had no right to it. She swiped for it but Alfie held it close.
‘Read it to me,’ he said sternly.
Moll glared at him, then looked down at the burnt lettering. She was silent for a few seconds, and then, very quietly, she said, ‘You can tell a lot about a person from their
handwriting.’
‘Load of old squiggles to me,’ Alfie muttered.
Moll shook her head. ‘Mooshie says writing’s like a clue to what a person’s like. Big bends in the g, f, j and q mean a person’s greedy; small loops in the a, d, e and o
mean a person’s tight-fisted . . .’ She was fighting for time, trying her best to read the words in her head while blabbing away to Alfie.
Alfie shoved her in the back. ‘Just get on and read it, will you?’
Moll arched her eyebrows. Just a little longer. ‘Those wispy dashes across the t and f there mean this person’s clever-thinking.’
‘Look,’ Alfie growled, ‘we’ve got to read this and get out of here. We don’t have time for this.’
Moll’s mind was racing. Suppose this was a message only
she
was meant to see? But she
needed
Alfie; he was her only way out and for now she had to trust him. She took a deep
breath. ‘It’s a poem,’ she said slowly. Then she started to read aloud:
‘MANY AND MANY A FOOTSTEP FROM YOU,
IN A HOVEL AMONG THE GORSE,
A WILD MAIDEN LIVES WHOM MOST ESCHEW,
BY MARSHLAND AND HEATHER GROWN COARSE.
THIS MAIDEN SHE WAITS FOR THE CHILD TO APPEAR,
TO MEET ON A HILL TURNED BLACK,
FOR DARKNESS IS SPREADING, STIRRING SO NEAR
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