Crossing To Paradise by Kevin Crossley-Holland Read Free Book Online Page B

less easy than the previous one. Nest had pinching boots and a raw left heel and Tilda had to mix an ointment each morning, and rub it into Nest’s feet.
    â€œAt this rate,” Tilda complained, “we’ll be out of ointment before we’re out of England!”
    On the fourth day, Nest’s heel was so painful that, after the pilgrimshad stopped at noon in the middle of a wood to eat bread and dried fish, she refused to stand up and continue the journey.
    â€œYou must,” said Lady Gwyneth.
    â€œI can’t, my lady,” said Nest. “You’ve seen how I was limping.”
    â€œWell, you can’t stay here,” said Lady Gwyneth. “We’re halfway to London and in trouble already—because of one raw heel. What are we going to do?”
    â€œCome on!” Gatty said impatiently. “Get up, Nest!”
    â€œNo,” said Nest.
    Gatty clicked her teeth and looked to heaven; Snout and Emrys looked at each other.
    â€œWe’ll have to carry you,” said Snout. “Pickeback.”
    â€œPiggyback, you mean,” exclaimed Gatty. “I often carried piglets like that!”
    So that’s what Snout and Emrys did. Taking turns, they carried Nest, pickeback and piggyback, all afternoon.
    That evening, Gatty asked Nest whether she would like to wear Mansel’s soft felt slippers.
    Nest shook her head.
    â€œYou can,” said Gatty.
    â€œNo,” said Nest impatiently. “They’re only made of scraps anyway.”
    On the fifth morning, Everard clutched his throat and complained his glands felt as large as pigs’ bladders; and Tilda’s arthritis in her left hand hurt so badly she carried her arm in a sling. Of all the pilgrims, Gatty was least affected by small aches and pains. After all, she had spent almost every day of her life plowing, stone-picking, sowing, haymaking, reaping, stooking, hauling.
    So when they all trooped into another shabby hostelry shortly before noon, Lady Gwyneth decided to call a halt for the remainder of the day.
    â€œThe afternoon needn’t be wasted,” she said. “Austin, will you please give Nest and Gatty their lessons?”
    Nest closed her eyes and sighed noisily.
    â€œAnd you,” Lady Gwyneth went on, turning to Emrys and Snout, “you two can practice your fighting skills. Heaven knows, you need to!”
    â€œSir Snout!” exclaimed Gatty.
    â€œIt’s no laughing matter,” Lady Gwyneth said. “There may not be too much to fear crossing England. But after that? Nakin’s absolutely right. It’s crucial that we’re properly protected.”
    True, Lady Gwyneth’s armed men, Crok and Armin, had tried to teach Snout and Emrys how to thrust and parry with their double-pronged willow-staffs that were as long as quarterstaffs, and how to circle an opponent with a drawn dagger, and use a scrip as a kind of leather shield. But although Emrys and Snout were not fearful or unwilling, they were still very poor material.
    Egged on by the other pilgrims, they lunged and stumbled and swiped clean air and sweated and swore until it was all Gatty could do to stop herself from joining in. Then they tripped over each other, and got their arms and legs into a tangle, and Nest completely forgot her raw heel and rolled over on her back, laughing.
    â€œWe both know what to do,” Snout gasped, “but we can’t persuade our bodies to do it.”
    â€œSo I see!” Lady Gwyneth said, smiling.
    â€œSnout’s too clumsy,” Emrys panted, “and I’m too slow.”
    â€œWell,” said Lady Gwyneth. “We’re depending on you. You must practice whenever you can. Now then, Gatty. And you, Nest. Your lessons!”
    â€œI’ll excuse Nest today,” said Austin. “I want to teach Gatty her alphabet.”
    â€œAlpha-what?” Gatty exclaimed.
    Austin opened his shoulder bag and found his silvery slate and a lump of chalk,