Castle Of Bone by Penelope Farmer Read Free Book Online Page B

made by the marchers on the arena floor; the sound patterns made by the armorial bands. He felt that disliking the belligerence for which these stood, he ought not to allow shivers to run up and down his back. Yet he could not have come to an event more suited to his, to all their present states of mind, because of the noise and glare and ritual; and though he did not want to be carried away and lost, soon fell into a state of dream which came dangerously near to it.
    Looking down on the arena, an oval of orange sand, Hugh felt above time again, anticipating event; except that here, the formations moving, advancing against each other, he would have anticipated collision rather than their actual neat enfolding, row on row, each rank sliding whole through others and emerging whole. The lights changed ceaselessly. The troops were all green one moment, then white, then pink, then scarlet, then all colours together at once. The lights and music jointly hypnotized him. By the time the gun race started – two teams of sailors from different naval ports dragging guns and gun-carriages over an obstacle course – he was yelling like everyone else and totally overcome. And when it ended, with a crash of cannons and a cloud of bitter smoke which touched their faces and hung pale against the darkness overhead, as against a tangible, solid surface, the pleasure he felt was out of proportion to the event. He seemed to explode with light and relief and joy.
    “Well, I think we can say that went off with a bang, ladies and gentlemen,” said the voice of the avuncular colonel in the commentator’s box. Penn and Hugh looked at each other derisively, shrieked with irreverent laughter. They leaned across Jean and Anna who were sitting between them and shook hands solemnly.
    “What an absolutely sooper bang,” they said all but simultaneously, with exaggerated army accents. Just as Hugh came out of cinema feeling bold or reflective or poetical, according to the film, so now he took his mood from the tournament. He felt splendid suddenly, glittering, a match for Penn any day, using words for weapons, flinging them along the row, across both Jean and Anna. “Don’t mind us,” said Jean indignantly. And twice, somebody behind Hugh leaned over and tapped his shoulder, and told him, authoritatively, to keep still, be quiet.
    “And now,” proclaimed the relentless jolly colonel, “we offer you a dangerous and stunning event. Every week, ladies and gentlemen, these brave teams suffer a broken bone or two, practising on your behalf, to entertain you now. We present to you, proudly, on motor-cycles, the Army Daredevils!”
    The stadium suddenly went black. The sour smell of horse urine drifted up from the arena floor. People waited, rustled, coughed a little. A roaring grew from somewhere – lights went up suddenly – it was as if that made sound as well as light, for the noise grew furious, the great doors flew away, with a roar and a rush in dashed a chain of motor-cycles – two, three chains, one behind the other; black motor-cycles, black-clad riders, They roared to the far end of the arena and back again, split, wheeled round and rode diagonally across each other, missing by hairs’-breadths, then returned with mighty, restrengthening roars. Even sceptical Hugh held his breath anxiously.
    “Want some more, gentlemen?” inquired the colonel.
    “No,” yelled Hugh and Penn together, and looked at each other grinning. “They’ll crash, they’ll crash,” Jean was saying frantically. “Oh I wish they’d stop.” But Anna seemed to like it as much as Hugh and Penn. She gripped the seat, her face open, full of life.
    “You haven’t seen anything yet ,” bellowed the commentator. “Now for a mid-air crossover,” – and then in a moment, when it was over – “Want it again?” he asked.
    “Oh I hate it, they’ll crash,” wailed Jean, as the motor-cycles dashed once more on their opposite diagonals, rode up ramps and jumped,