Chronicles of the Red King #3: Leopards' Gold by Jenny Nimmo Read Free Book Online

with us.” Petrello looked at the homeless children.
    “That boy would have killed you,” said Amadis.
    “No. He was frightened. Gunfrid and Zeba have nowhere to go, and we have so much.”
    Amadis smiled. “You have a soft heart, Petrello.” He patted his horse’s neck. “Come on then, Gunfrid and Zeba. You had better ride with me.”

A madis lifted the two ragged children onto his horse and jumped up behind them. The children were so thin, the three of them fitted comfortably on the fine saddle with its golden pommel. It had been a gift from the king on Amadis’s seventeenth birthday.
    As soon as Petrello and Tolly were mounted, they set off along the forest track. They could hear movements in the trees, the occasional shout, and, once or twice, a horse whinnied.
    “They’re still searching for the bellman,” said Amadis. He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Hey, Sir Edern, Sir Peredur! I have news!”
    The other Knight Protectors were obviously some distance away. Perhaps they couldn’t make out the words that Amadis was shouting. Petrello was anxious. The chancellor’s men might have heard his brother’s voice. Amadis would be arrested before he had time to explain.
    “Maybe it would be better not to shout, Amadis,” Petrello suggested. “The wrong people might hear.”
    “And you’ll be caught,” said Tolly.
    “Don’t worry, little brothers. I have my guardians.” Amadis gave a soft yelp. “See!”
    He pointed at the thickets bordering the track on both sides.
    The boys glimpsed the bobbing head of a wolf, then another, and another. There were four wolves, two on each side of the track. The wolves showed themselves, briefly, and then disappeared.
    “Greyfleet and his brothers.” Amadis looked over his shoulder and smiled.
    Gunfrid and Zeba stared nervously at the undergrowth. They hunched their shoulders and lowered their heads.
    Amadis patted the boy’s shoulder. “You’re safe with me.”
    All at once, Gunfrid muttered, “In Castle Melyntha, they hate the Red King.”
    “And how do you know this?” asked Amadis, frowning.
    “We come from there,” said the boy. “Our lord, Sir Osbern D’Ark, hates the king because he is a magician and his castle is hidden, and because he stole Sir Osbern’s bride.”
    “That would be our mother,” said Amadis. “Sir Osbern is descended from a conqueror, is he not?”
    “His grandfather was a conqueror,” cried Zeba, suddenly animated. “One of those men who invaded our country and killed our true King Harold.”
    “That was a hundred years ago,” said Petrello, airing his knowledge.
    “Yes, when the false King William came,” said Gunfrid. “But conquerors still come, many, many, many of them, and the new false king gives them our land and our houses and our cattle and our forests.”
    “We know our history.” Zeba raised her rough little voice defiantly. “Our parents told us, over and over, so that we should never forget it.”
    “And they hated the Red King as much as the conquerors,” added Gunfrid.
    “Why?” Amadis was genuinely astonished.
    “Because he never came to rescue them,” said Gunfrid. “Our parents were children of wealthy merchants. They rebelled against the conquerors and were killed for it. But their children, our parents, ran into the forest and lived there, until they were caught by Sir Osbern’s men. Some of their friends escaped and went to live with the Red King. And our parents thought that because the Red King was a magician, and very powerful, he would come to rescue them. But he never did. They waited and waited and waited, and now they are dead, too.”
    “They worked hard even when they were sick,” said Zeba. “Because they were slaves, and so were we, until we escaped.”
    Even Amadis was lost for words. Petrello didn’t want to believe the scruffy children, and yet he found it hard to doubt them. Their voices ran with passionate resentment.
    “If our father was so disliked