15. Beyond the Orchard Door

The ship had now been moored and, as Queen Emeline stepped ashore, the heralds sounded a fanfare. Then Elyon went forward to receive her. At either side of him walked a centaur and behind him, feeling rather shy, walked Katy and Simon. Behind them came Drimwort and Trumblegast, Xanthus and Chervil, then Aquila.
‘Greetings, Emeline, Queen of Shalanor, Empress of the Isles of Mist, Lady of Arwendal Keep,’ said Elyon in a deep, glad, solemn voice. ‘Take again your throne and be, once more, a blessing and a joy to all your people.’
‘Greetings, Elyon, King of Kings and my Sovereign Lord,’ replied Emeline in a soft, silvery voice. And she curtsied low before him. Then, as Elyon moved to her side, she stepped forward to Simon and Katy. ‘And greetings to you, Son of Tellus and Daughter of Earth.’
‘Greetings, your majesty,’ said Katy and Simon in unison. Simon, still looking splendid in his tunic, bowed, and Katy curtsied — but wished she could have washed and changed into something nicer than her jeans. Elyon obviously did not think that sort of thing was very important!
As if reading her mind, Queen Emeline reached out and took her hand. ‘You have endured much for my sake,’ she said. ‘And I do thank thee with all my heart. When we get to the castle, you shall bathe in perfumed waters and be decked in such finery as befits thee.’ She turned again to Simon. ‘Sir Simon,’ she said. ‘Wilt thou lend me thy sword.’
‘Yes, of c— I mean, Aye, with a right good will, majesty,’ said Simon. And he unsheathed his weapon and, holding it by the blade, he laid it across his other arm and offered it to her with a bow. The Queen took it.
‘Kneel, Katy,’ she said. Katy knelt and the Queen touched her on both shoulders with the flat of the sword. ‘Arise, Dame Katy Faithful-Heart,’ she said.
Then it was the turn of the others. To each, the Queen gave her thanks, and she knighted both Drimwort and Trumblegast. (Only when the Queen addressed both Xanthus and Aquila as ‘Lord Xanthus’ and ‘Lord Aquila’ did the children realise that both of them already belonged to Shalanor’s nobility!)
Drimwort received his investiture with proper decorum but I am afraid that Trumblegast got off his knees saying, ‘Well, tickle my whiskers! Sir Trumblegast, eh? Who’d ever have believed it? If only my old ma had lived to see this day.’ But the Queen just laughed and didn’t seem to mind at all.
When all the ceremonial was over, she clapped her hands. ‘Now,’ she said. ‘Dusk is falling. Let us away to the castle. And when we have refreshed ourselves, let us betake ourselves to the Great Hall. There we shall have a banquet the like of which there has not been in Arwendal Keep for many a year.’
Up the red carpet they all walked and the crowd cheered all the while. They passed through the western gate in the outer wall; walked between smooth lawns on which strutted peacocks crying out in welcome; advanced under the portcullis and proceeded into the courtyard. On their right lay the Great Hall. Through its many windows, the children could see the lights of great candelabra already burning and reflecting from golden goblets and golden plate on tables piled with food.
‘I’m looking forward to this,’ said Simon.
‘I’m looking forward to a hot bath,’ said Katy.
Once they were inside the castle, the children were taken to rooms prepared for them in the circular turrets. Each had a conical roof and each had a fire burning in its hearth. Fresh garments were laid out ready for them on the beds; and, in Katy’s room, a bath had been prepared from which steam, smelling of perfume, was rising.
Simon was left to fend for himself, but a slender dryad attended his sister after she had bathed. The aspen-maid (for that is what she was) brushed Katy’s hair, then braided it and arranged it in coils around and under her head-dress. She helped her on with the shimmering gown provided, and showed her how to fasten the silken girdle around her waist. She put gold slippers on her feet.
Then she took her to rejoin Simon and led the two of them down the wide staircase to the Great Hall. As they paused on the threshold, a page raised his trumpet to his lips and sounded a fanfare.
‘Sir Simon of Baligsmere, Marshall to Lord Elyon, and Dame Katy Faithful-Heart!’ cried a badger (a second cousin of Brock) who was the Queen’s Master of Ceremonies. And great cheering broke out from those already in the Hall.
Under the high, gilded roof walked the children. They passed the north wall hung with tapestries and carpets from Kyarm and approached the great ivory throne. It had seven steps and a footstool of solid gold, and on each side of its seat were armrests. A golden lion stood beside each armrest, and golden peacocks, their tails spread wide, stood at the ends of each of the seven steps. Once that very throne had been occupied by King Harold and Queen Maud, but now Queen Emeline and Elyon were seated there. The children knelt before them in obeisance on the golden footstool and then were led to their places at the High Table.
At Katy’s right was Sir Drimwort and at Simon’s left was Sir Trumblegast. Lord Xanthus and Chervil stood further down the hall. (This was not because they were considered less important but simply because unicorns and donkeys are the wrong shape for sitting at table and preferred to stand. For the same reason, Lord Aquila had perched on a long pole at the end of the hall.)
All their friends were there. On a table below them and to their left was Dunelm, talking excitedly to two other cats. ‘I’m thinking of writing a monograph,’ he was saying. ‘Notes on the Pipes, I plan to call it. I do so feel, you see, that those in our care need constantly to be reminded that the faun is no mere symbol ...’
Near Dunelm were Brock and Beatrice, the badgers, who smiled at Katy and lifted their goblets to her when she caught their eyes.
Estria was there too. She was not sitting at table but in the middle of an enormous web which she had spun in one corner of the ceiling of the Great Hall.
And not far from Brock and Beatrice was Minerva. Her ear trumpet was on the table in front of her but she was not using it and she kept dropping off to sleep. The fox on her left attempted to draw her into conversation by remarking that everything was very pleasant. Katy heard Minerva reply crossly that she did not like pheasant and that she would send it back if anyone tried to give her any!
When the first course was served — lymerlings in puff pastry with a watercress sauce — Drimwort turned to Katy.
‘I told you this was the food of royalty,’ he said. ‘But I never expected to eat it with the Queen herself — and in Arwendal Keep, too! Crowns and coronets! What an adventure this has been!’
‘And now it’s coming to an end,’ said Katy sadly.
‘Has Elyon told you when you will return to your own world?’ asked Drimwort.
‘No,’ said Katy. ‘But I think it will be quite soon. Everything in Shalanor is all right now. There’s nothing more for us to do.’
As they talked and ate, a minstrel took the floor and began to sing. He sang of the far-off days of Shalanor — of the defeat of the Prince of Darkness, of Triladine, of Maud and Harold, and of Elyon and the Fires of Frim. Then, he bowed to the High Table.
‘Now,’ he announced. ‘The noble Knight, Sir Drimwort, will recite for us his new epic poem, The Waters of Pendallyn.’
Katy looked at her companion in astonishment. ‘When did you write that?’ she asked.
‘Oh, I’ve been working on it ever since we left Carmel Pool,’ said Drimwort, getting to his feet. ‘I finished it just before we came down to eat.’
He stood in the centre of the hall, bowed to Elyon and the Queen, and then began.

‘On one dark night in Meadowmow,
Within the Cave of Salamand,
A Shalanorn his watch did keep
In western hills of that bright land.

That Shalanorn a rabbit was,
And Private Drimwort was his name.
He waited for the break of day
But then a Son of Tellus came ...’

The poem went on for a very long time and told the whole story just as I have told it to you — but all of it in rhyme. All through the telling, the company was silent as if spellbound. But, when it was finished, everyone rose to their feet and applauded and cheered. Then Queen Emeline called Drimwort to her and appointed him Poet Laureate to the Court of Arwendal Keep.
Beaming with delight, Drimwort resumed his seat and more food was served, more wine was poured, and more songs were sung. Jugglers performed for the guests, and jesters and tumblers entertained. And so, in great joy and with much revelry, the evening wore on. At last, after sherbets and ices had been served and eaten, the tables were cleared and pushed back against the walls and the dancing began.
For a long time Katy was never off her feet. She danced with Drimwort and Dunelm, and Trumblegast and Brock Badger, and even Olrik himself. She danced with beavers and squirrels and with hares and the captain of the fighting mice. But at last, exhausted, she flopped into a chair. And there Elyon found her, almost dropping asleep.
‘Come, little one,’ he said. ‘It is time to go home.’
‘Oh, Elyon, must we?’ she said. ‘I don’t ever want to leave Shalanor — or you.’
‘You must,’ said Elyon. ‘But you will return here — and we shall meet again. Meanwhile, I shall keep you in my heart. Come, now. Your brother is waiting for you.’
They went out of the Great Hall and Elyon took Katy to a small room. There were her trainers, and, lying on a bench, her ordinary clothes and anorak.
‘Get changed quickly,’ said the faun. ‘I shall wait for you here.’
Sadly, Katy stepped out of her finery and put on her jeans and jumper. Soon, she was ready and went with Elyon through the courtyard, across the drawbridge and into a walled orchard just below the moat.
There, standing in the moonlight, was Simon — who, like Katy, was now dressed in his winter clothes. But there also was Olrik and, crowded among the fruit trees, the members of his army. The dryads had gone back to their trees, the firkins to their pine forests, the naiads to their streams and pools, and the oreads to their mountains.
It was to Olrik that Elyon spoke first. ‘Has everyone decided?’ he asked. ‘Are there any who choose to remain in Shalanor?’
‘Only two,’ said the cyclops. ‘Gramplegast, here — and Brym, the dragon.’
‘Dang me, I’d like to come to your country, Sir,’ said Gramplegast. ‘But that there great-great- great-nephew of mine is getting on in years and I can’t bring myself to leave him up there in the Northern Peak on his own. Not with his rheumatics the way they are. I reckon it’ll be best if we grow old together, up there in the mountains. And we’ve asked young Brym here to join us. The Northern Peak hasn’t had its own dragon for years, and we reckon it could do with one.’
‘You have chosen well,’ said Elyon. ‘And you shall not be the losers for it. My blessing will be upon all three of you.’
He walked to the orchard wall and pulled aside a huge curtain of ivy which hung over it. There, behind the ivy, was a door.
‘Open it,’ said Elyon to Olrik.
The cyclops turned the great iron knob and pulled. Slowly, the door creaked open; then, suddenly the orchard was ablaze with sunlight. It streamed through the opening, turning the darkness to day, and, as their eyes became accustomed to the brightness, the children could see, beyond the door, the blue sky and rolling hills and green meadows of Elyon’s Country beyond the Gates of Dawn. Close by the entrance, a stream bubbled along through reeds and rushes, and, on the far bank, were crowds of smiling, laughing creatures.
‘Why, there’s my sister, Dorothy,’ cried a black bear and, before anyone could stop him, he was through the door and splashing his way across the stream.
‘And there’s my old dad,’ cried one of the goats. And he bounded through the door too.
Seeing the glad reunions taking place in Elyon’s meadows, others quickly followed, and soon the last of Olrik’s army and Olrik himself had gone. Then Elyon closed the door.
‘Now it is your turn, children,’ he said.
Katy burst into tears and flung her arms around Elyon’s neck. Tears were running down Simon’s cheeks, too.
‘Oh, Elyon,’ sobbed Katy. ‘You will bring us back here one day, won’t you?’
‘I have said so,’ said Elyon. ‘And I never break my word. One day, too, you will join me in that country of which you have now seen just the smallest glimpse. But not yet — not yet. Now, you must return home. Your father is calling for you.’
He opened the door again, but this time there was no sunshine, only the dim light and the flagstone floor and the whitewashed walls of the cellar of their new home in England. And they could hear their father’s voice calling, ‘Simon, Katy — where are you?’
‘Goodbye, Elyon,’ said Katy, still tearful, and stepped through the door.
‘Goodbye, Elyon,’ said Simon, rubbing his eyes dry with the back of his hand as he followed her.
‘Goodbye, children,’ said Elyon. And he began to close the door behind them.
They turned for one last look at Shalanor, but now there was only another whitewashed wall where the door had been. Sadly, they walked to the steps and made their way back into the kitchen.
‘There you are,’ said Alistair Buckley coming into the room. ‘I was beginning to wonder where you’d got to.’
‘I know,’ said Simon. ‘Sorry we’ve been so long, Dad; but —’
‘What are you talking about?’ said his father. ‘We’ve only been upstairs for the last five minutes — but we’ve found something we think might interest you. Come and have a look.’
Katy and Simon looked at each other in astonishment as their father strode off down the passage towards the stairs.
‘Only been upstairs for five minutes?’ said Katy. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘Neither do I,’ said Simon. ‘We were in the kitchen for five minutes before we found the cellar!’
They both glanced across to the cellar door, but it too had vanished, like the door into Shalanor. Now there was just a wall where it had been. They looked at each other in bewilderment.
‘So we were there for no time at all!’ said Katy.
‘No time at all in this world,’ said Simon. ‘But three weeks or so in Shalanor.’
‘Unless it was all just a marvellous dream,’ said Katy.
‘Two people can’t both dream the same thing at the same time,’ said Simon. ‘Or I don’t think they can.’
They made their way upstairs.
‘In here,’ called their father, hearing their footsteps on the bare floorboards. His voice was coming from somewhere beyond the very end of the passage to the right of the landing.
Katy and Simon went in search of him. At the end of the passage was another flight of stairs leading to some attic rooms, and in one of them they found their mother and father.
‘Now!’ said Helen Buckley. ‘What do you think of that!’
In the outer, south-facing wall of the tiny room with its steep, sloping ceilings, was a window. But not an ordinary window. It was circular and it was made of stained glass; and through it the winter sun was streaming, making it alive and vibrant. There were pieces of pale blue glass, joined by leads, forming a summer sky. There were pieces of green glass, of different hues and shades, making trees and flowing hills. There were tiny bits of glass — deep red, bright orange, cobalt blue, milky white — making flowers. But, at the heart of this glowing masterpiece of light and colour, were panes of pale yellow, light brown and silvery-grey. And they depicted a faun, sitting on a rock in the middle of the landscape, looking into the room, playing a set of golden pipes.
For a moment, Katy was speechless with surprise; then she whispered in awe, ‘Oh, how beautiful!’
‘Fantastic!’ said Simon.
‘Isn’t it?’ said their father. ‘I thought at first it must be Pan, you know — I’ve heard of him. But it’s not. If you look at the wording round the edge, it says ‘Elyon in Shalanor’ — see? Not that I’ve ever heard of Elyon — or Shalanor, come to that. Still — it’s a terrific piece of work.’
Katy and Simon exchanged glances.
‘The faun looks almost real,’ said Simon.
‘Doesn’t it just!’ said his mother.
‘As real as real can be,’ said Katy softly. She walked slowly past her parents, never taking her eyes off the window, until she was standing right in front of it. Then she gazed up at it, drinking in the detail. And from her there came the whisper of a sigh. A sigh of sadness because she was no longer with Elyon in that magic land; but a sigh of gladness, too, because she had been there and met him, and because — one day — she would meet him there again.