Peter, as he accompanied the captain of the guard to the Great Hall, was feeling immensely pleased with himself. Now that Julia had escaped, he thought, he could give the lords a faulty design for their cannon without worrying about her safety. He had recalled something from one of his grandfather's long talka—lectures, more like—about Lord Nelson's naval strategies at the Battle of Trafalgar. If cannons were not made properly they exploded, killing those who loaded and fired them.

His idea was simple—simple but brilliant, he told himself. He would get the lords to make a clay cannon and clay cannonballs. Clay could never withstand the force of an explosion. The weapon that the Lords of Aedyn hoped to use against their enemies would destroy their own guards instead.

There was, of course, the simple matter of his own escape, but as they approached the Hall he put it out of his mind. All would be well. He was sure of it.

All three lords were waiting. One of them gestured to a table that had been set up with paper and ink and Peter, understanding, made a hasty but complete sketch of a cannon. Finishing, he brought it to the lords.

"You put the gunpowder all the way down here," he said, pointing. "And the cannonball—those are the clay balls I told you about—is placed on top of it. Then the gunpowder is ignited through this little opening here. It explodes and propels the cannonball into the distance."

"And how far does it travel?" asked the Jackal.

"It all depends, my lord," Peter replied. "That's part of the testing process. But it will go far indeed—farther than an arrow."

"But surely the cannon itself will explode? How could clay withstand the pressure?"

"The barrel of the cannon is very thick, and the cannonball does not stay inside for long," Peter said self-assuredly. "The full force of the explosion will propel the cannonball forward, not shatter the cannon barrel."

"I do hope you're right," said the Wolf, speaking for the first time. "If not, you can expect to die a particularly unpleasant death. You!" He addressed a swarthy man who was standing back in the shadows—the potter, and most likely another slave, Peter thought. "Can this be made?" The Wolf took hold of Peter's design and shook it at the man. The potter nodded mutely and gave a grunt that must have been assent, for the lords seemed to relax.

"Until tomorrow, then," said the Wolf, and swept his arm in a gesture of dismissal.

Peter returned to his rooms, locked in with a guard stationed outside the doorway. He paced back and forth in front of the windows, no longer able to push out of his mind the question of his escape. Surely, surely there had to be a way to get out of all this. A way to get away from the castle and find Julia and get home to Oxford!

It was just then, as he looked out over the castle ramparts, that the shadow of an idea slipped into his mind. He walked up and down more heavily, mulling it over. It would depend ninety percent upon careful planning and ten percent on blind luck, and Peter knew that one cannot plan to be lucky. But the risk was still worth taking. He thought furiously. The plan had so many loose ends, but it was the only one he had. It just had to work. Otherwise, he would die a quick death when the cannon exploded…or a slow one when the Lords of Aedyn caught him afterwards.
 

As Peter paced the room Julia was setting off into the dark depths of the forest.

"How will I know where I am meant to be going?" she asked Gaius, gripping the new walking stick Lukas had cut for her.

"An eagle will go ahead of you, and he will guide you to the place of testing. Look up on that tree, to the right. No, just there. Do you see him? Watch him carefully. When you have arrived at the right place, he will land close beside you." Gaius put his hands on Julia's shoulders and squeezed them gently, just as her father had done when she was small. "Now go! And may the Lord of Hosts be with you!"

There was a fluttering noise from the tree as the eagle launched himself into the air and began to soar upwards, circling. Julia followed him along a narrow path which seemed to lead nowhere.

It was late morning, but as she followed the eagle deeper and deeper into the forest it seemed that dusk had begun to fall. She found herself deep in the shadowy, wild forest, and had it not been for the dark outline of the eagle above her she would have been lost in moments. Immense, gloomy trees with huge twisted roots soared up to an invisible yet darkening sky far beyond. The tangled maze of leaves and branches were like a thick wall, blotting out what little remained of the sunlight.

She had no idea what creatures might lurk in the darkness beyond the safety of the path, or what wild beasts might live on the island. But she kept her eyes on the eagle, and suddenly the path opened up into a grassy clearing. The eagle waited in the middle of it, cocking its head at her almost inquisitively. Then he bowed—and if you have ever seen an eagle bow, you will know that it was a very strange sight indeed—and flew into the gathering night. Within moments, he had disappeared from view.

Julia watched him depart—her one link with the familiar. How she wished that she could mount up with the wings of an eagle, instead of being bound to this island and the great unknown!

Alone in the night, this unaccustomed midday darkness, there was nothing to do but make herself comfortable and wait for whatever this test might be. She stretched out beneath a thick-branched pine at the edge of the clearing and, still exhausted from her night in the Death Cage and the hard ride after it, waited for sleep to come.

But something else came first.

In front of her eyes the tall grasses between the trees parted, revealing what lay within. A man stepped out from between the trees and held out his hand. "Greetings," he said with a smile.

Continue to Chapter Fourteen.