PALLIONE KEPT SINGING, her voice delicate and brittle. Joseph glanced at Tabitha, hoping she might have some idea what to do, but she looked as uncertain as he felt. They couldn’t get to the mermaid now. Not with every crook in Port Fayt in the way.
On stage the figures were assembling into two groups. Those on the left wore black armour, their shields painted with skulls and bones. Their helmets hid their faces, but from their size and shape Joseph guessed they were all trolls and goblins. Opposite them were men in silver armour, each of their shields painted white and emblazoned with a golden sword.
Joseph was starting to feel sick.
‘Corin’s army was only small,’ declared the Boy King. He was still swaggering back and forth along the table, his enormous plume bouncing with each stride. ‘But he was the boldest, bravest, strongest hero in all the Old World.’
One of the men in silver stepped forward, taking off his helmet and brandishing a sword that had been daubed with gold paint.
‘I am Corin,’ he said unconvincingly.
‘Zargath had a great horde of evil creatures, but he was the evillest of them all,’ announced the Boy King. He was all but rubbing his hands together with glee. ‘Where are you, Zargath?’
A man stepped out of the group of trolls and goblins, wearing a long black robe and a false beard.
‘I am Zargath,’ he declared. He didn’t sound like a wicked wizard. In fact, he was trembling. Joseph looked back at the figure of Corin and saw that he was trembling too. He began to examine the warriors – the humans in silver and the trolls and goblins in black. All of them were trembling. What’s going on here?
‘Behold,’ squealed the Boy King, more excited than ever. ‘The two armies face each other.’
There was a hand on Joseph’s arm – Tabitha. She caught his eye and nodded towards something at the side of the cavern. Joseph followed her gaze and saw men in the Boy King’s livery – blue velvet adorned with golden crowns. They all held muskets and crossbows, raised and levelled at the stage. At the performers.
‘And now!’ The Boy King was practically screeching. ‘Here! Today! In this very hall! They will fight … for our entertainment!’
Thunderous applause from the diners. Pallione’s song came to an abrupt end and she turned to glare at the Boy King, the hatred clear in her eyes. Joseph saw that there was a musket levelled at her too.
‘What … ?’ said Tabitha. ‘What’s happening?’
‘LET BATTLE COMMENCE!’
Silence. The armies watched each other, but neither made a move. Pallione’s tail flicked and she turned her face away from the stage.
‘Please,’ said a lone voice. It was one of the humans in silver armour. ‘Please don’t make us—’
‘FIGHT!’ shrieked the Boy King. ‘FIIIIIGHT!’
There was a whirr and a hiss, and something thunked into the stage behind the trolls. Joseph looked up to see one of the crossbowmen reloading.
A weedy yell came from amongst the black-armoured group, and a goblin rushed forward, wielding a hand-axe. Others joined him, and then both armies were charging, and there was a clatter of metal as they met. The battle had begun.
‘Something’s wrong,’ said Tabitha. Her face was contorted with horror. ‘I don’t think … I mean, is this … ?’
‘It’s not a show,’ said Joseph. His voice came out strained and high. ‘It’s real.’
At the front of the stage, a goblin had got himself trapped between two humans. A sword swung at him, chopped heavily into his shield. If that had been his arm … thought Joseph, and shuddered. In shock, the goblin dropped the shield and his mace. He looked around for an escape route but there was only one. He leaped off the stage, racing towards the nearest guests.
Three separate musket shots rang out, and the goblin danced and fell, his helmet rolling away under the table. One of the guests picked it up, admiring it and showing it to his neighbour. The goblin lay silent and still. Blood pooled around the table leg.
Gradually, Joseph became aware of Tabitha speaking to him again.
‘We have to do something,’ she was hissing. ‘We have to stop this.’
There were several bodies now, half hidden among the melee. Some were propped up by the press of battle, others trampled underfoot. A human howled. It was a strange, gurgling sound that seemed scarcely human at all. Blood spattered the nearest diners, and they let out yelps of delighted surprise.
Think, Joseph! They had no weapons. Nothing. ‘I don’t know what to …’
He faltered to a halt. Because suddenly he did know. He knew exactly what to do. He took a deep breath and walked towards the Boy King. The one person who could stop the bloodshed.
‘Where are you going?’ Tabitha asked, but he knew that if he stopped to explain, she’d talk him out of it, or he’d lose his nerve.
The terror of the Marlinspike Quarter was perched on the edge of his seat, eyes as big as cannonballs, a stupid smile painted all over his face as he drank in the fighting and the killing. His golden costume glittered in the candlelight.
He always wears those stupid clothes, Slik had said. And he throws a fit if anyone touches them …
‘You,’ the boy yelled at a human, cornered by trolls swinging battle-axes. ‘You’re not trying. You’re supposed to be a hero, not a coward! You trolls, kill him! Teach him a lesson!’
The axes came down. The Boy King laughed, snatched a bunch of grapes and stuffed them into his mouth.
‘Your majesty,’ said Joseph, lifting up his decanter. ‘More blackwine?’
The boy turned, scowling at him. Then he grinned and offered up his crystal goblet.
Joseph began to pour the drink, and the Boy King watched greedily as his goblet was filled with wine. Joseph’s right hand shifted to the back of the decanter, raising it higher.
Now or never.
He let go. The decanter slipped forward through his grasp, hit the edge of the table and smashed. Glass scattered over plates, food and cutlery. Blackwine gushed everywhere.
The Boy King leaped to his feet as if he’d been stung by a hornet. Black liquid oozed through his golden jacket and breeches.