THE DISHES WERE NOT COLLECTED that night. The guards had been presented with one of the barrels of ginger beer and had decided to begin celebrating the christening early. Finding the contents of the barrel not to their taste they had added something a little stronger, and their celebrations lasted long past midnight.
They were exceedingly bleary-eyed when they came stomping down the dungeon corridor early the following morning, wincing at every rattle of their keys. They heaped the dishes from the various cells onto a sticky tray and handed out dry bread and cold beans for breakfast, finally arriving at the dungeon for Those Who Speak Out Of Turn. It took them a while to find the keyhole, and when at last they managed it there was an argument as to which of them would pick up the dishes and which would stand by the door. The sound of their voices woke Peony, and she was sitting up in bed when the larger guard came lumbering in.
“Hello,” she said – and then, seeing daylight creeping through the narrow windows, “Oh no! What time is it?”
The guard gawped at her. “Uh?”
Peony jumped out of bed. “What time is it?”
The guard scratched his head. “It’s morning.”
“But is it early morning?” Peony insisted.
This was too much. The guard’s head hurt, and all he wanted to do was sleep for at least two days. “Morning’s morning.” And he picked up the dirty dishes, dumped down a small bowl of bread and beans and lumbered away.
As the door clanged shut behind him Horrington opened his eyes. “Now’s your moment, Princess,” he said. “They won’t be back for hours. And yes … I believe it’s still quite early.”
Peony’s eyes shone as she pulled the sheet off her bed and began tearing it into strips. “Time to escape! Although,” she added wistfully, “it really should have been in the middle of the night if it was going to be a proper escape…”
Half an hour later Peony was balanced precariously on Horrington Wells’ shoulders, stretching up to a dungeon window. The rope of torn sheets was tied round her waist, and standing below her was Lionel Longbeard, holding the upended iron bed steady.
“I’m not sure this window opens,” she reported. “I might have to break the glass. Do you think there’s anyone outside who will hear?”
“Who knows?” Horrington said. “Can you see anything?”
“The window’s very dirty,” Peony told him, “but I’m almost sure we’re at the back of the palace.” She rubbed at the glass with her fingers. “Yes! It’s the orchard. And I can see the big oak tree. I’ve always wanted to climb it, but Miss Beef would never let me … OH! Oh my goodness! How lucky is that? Mr Wells – Mr Longbeard – the window’s at ground level! We won’t have to climb down the rope once we’re outside. It’s just a little jump!”
“A little jump is good,” Horrington said cautiously. “Do be careful, Princess. Glass is sharp!”
Peony didn’t answer. She was tugging at the window catch, trying to force it open. Years of wind and rain had rusted the frame, and as she gave a final heave the entire window fell into the dungeon with a crash, scattering shards of glass over the cold stone floor.
“That’ll leave us with a nasty chilly draught on a winter’s night,” Lionel muttered, but he made sure he spoke too low for Peony to hear. She was already climbing through the gap, pulling the rope behind her. Seconds later she was balanced on the other side, peering back at her two companions.
“It’s really easy,” she encouraged. “Mr Wells – are you coming next?”
Horrington coughed. “Princess Peony,” he said, “you must go alone.”
“WHAT?”
It was difficult to see Peony’s face, but her tone was one of hurt astonishment. Horrington, still balanced on the end of the iron bedstead, steadied himself against the wall and tried to explain. “Think, dear child. If Lionel and I escape, where will we go? What will your father do when he finds his dungeon empty? Why – send the guards out to catch us, and neither of us has a mind to play cat and mouse for the rest of our lives.”
There was the sound of a suppressed sniff, and then Peony said, “But why didn’t you tell me before? Why did you let me think we were all going to escape together?”
Horrington sighed. “If we’d told you earlier, would you have agreed to go on your own?”
Peony thought about this. “No,” she said slowly. “You’re right. I’d have insisted on staying with you … and I still can!” She began to climb back.
“NO!” Horrington shouted, and Peony froze. “Excuse me, Princess, but this is important. You must persuade your father to let us go free. My friend badly needs to return to his library.”
Peony looked down at the dwarf. He was still holding on to the bed but he was staring at the floor, shoulders bowed. Even in the half light she could see how old he had become, and how defeated. “Oh, poor Mr Longbeard! Of course I will … I absolutely promise.” She paused. “Maybe I ought to be a bit more tactful next time I speak to Father. What do you think?”
Horrington smiled up at her. “Now you come to mention it, you might be right, Princess.”
The princess giggled and climbed back out, pulling the rope after her. “They mustn’t find out I’ve gone. Heap up the blankets on my bed and tell them I’m asleep.”
Horrington did his best to bow. “Princess, your ingenuity amazes me.”
“I’ll come back later and tell you how I’m getting on,” Peony promised. “Goodbye for now, Mr Wells. Mr Longbeard – please, PLEASE don’t despair!” And then she was gone, taking the sheet rope with her.
The jester jumped down, and together he and the dwarf restored the dungeon to something like its previous appearance. Pillows were stuffed down Peony’s bed and the result was convincing enough to fool the guards. The glass they left.
“I shall complain about the dangers of ancient windows,” Lionel said, and he nodded at Horrington. “I shall be suitably outraged!”
“Indeed.” Horrington yawned. “It’s still early, my friend. Go back to sleep. Dream of freedom, and your library…”
Lionel Longbeard looked up at the empty window space. “I think perhaps I will,” he said, and he climbed back into his bed with something almost like a smile.
