Igraine the Brave by Cornelia Funke Read Free Book Online Page A

twisted his mouth in a mocking smile. “This is the dungeon, little one. The prisoners here don’t get anything as nice as fresh eggs to eat.”
    “The dungeon?” whispered Igraine, going to a great deal of trouble to sound immensely impressed. “Ooh, is there anyone in there?”
    “You bet. Or why do you think I’m cooling my heels standing around here?” growled the guard. “Now clear out!”
    But Igraine put the basket of eggs down and gave him a beaming smile. “The Sleeping Beauty,” she whispered. “Yes, that ought to do it. How does it go, now?”
    “What’s all that you’re whispering?” growled the guard, leveling his spear at her. “I said clear out!”
    However, Igraine didn’t move an inch. Following Albert’s instructions, she stared straight at the guard’s forehead and began murmuring:
Slumber now like Sleeping Beauty,
Forget your post, forget your duty.
Your eyelids droop, you fall asleep,
May your rest be sound and deep.
Wondrous dreams your mind shall cloud
Until you hear me laugh aloud.
     
    After the first line the guard’s eyes were already closing, and when Igraine had finished reciting the spell he was snoring.
    “Keep quiet, do!” Igraine whispered, and she pinched his nose until his snores stopped. Then she closed his visor so that no one would see he was asleep, wedged his spear under his arm to keep him from falling over — and opened the tower door. It was only bolted. Igraine hauled the donkey in and kicked the door shut behind them.
    It was dark inside the tower. Daylight filtered in only through a couple of narrow stone slits. Igraine had been here once before, a few months ago, when the Baroness had asked her to count the barrels of spicy mead. Igraine had been happy to help, though it had been tough to let herself down into the deep hole, guessing how many spiders were lurking in the dark. She still shuddered at the memory — and prayed that the spiders had left the Dungeon of Despair along with the barrels.
    “Come on, Graycoat,” she whispered, hauling the reluctant donkey toward the edge of the hole. A large basket hung over it, fastened to a winch. Igraine took away the two planks that were acting as a makeshift cover for the hole and leaned cautiously over the abyss. The donkey rolled his eyes in alarm and tugged at his halter.
    “Bertram?” whispered Igraine into the pitch-black darkness. A sweetish smell rose to her nostrils. The dungeon still had a strong aroma of spicy mead.
    All was quiet for a few moments. Then Bertram’s incredulous voice came up from the depths. “Igraine? Oh, Lord, I’m hearing ghosts now. It must be the lack of food.”
    Igraine laughed quietly. “No, Bertram, word of knightly honor!” she whispered into the abyss. “I’m not a ghost. I’m going to lower the basket. Mind it doesn’t hit you on the head!”
    The winch creaked as Igraine turned the handle, but the basket went slowly down on its rope and disappeared into the darkness.
    “Good heavens, it really is you, Igraine!” cried Bertram from below. “But how are you going to pull me up? I’ll be much too heavy for you.”

    “I have my donkey here!” replied Igraine. “I’m going to tie the rope to him so that he can haul you up. Quick, get into the basket.” She went as close to the hole’s edge as she could, put out her arm to untie the rope from the winch — and snatched her hand back in alarm.
    A fat spider was busy spinning its silvery web around the winch. It had hairy legs and a pale pattern on its back, and this time it wasn’t one of the magic spiders that Albert conjured up! Igraine bit her lip, put her hand out once more for the rope — and withdrew it again hastily when the spider came scuttling down its web. It moved so quickly on all those legs!
    “Igraine!” called Bertram. “Can’t the donkey do it? Oh, dear, I knew I was too fat.”
    “There … there’s a spider under the winch,” said Igraine in a thread of a voice. “A huge, hairy