The Red Judge (13 page)

At last I reached the frozen river, which was covered with a fresh fall of snow. I ran to meet it, promising myself that, however bad things got, I'd never stray from it again but stay on course until I reached the sea. It was a wonderful reunion. I started downriver, full of new hope. I didn't even mind that I no longer had a sled and would have to make the journey on foot. Or so I thought until I got round the next bend and found Harri and Mari waiting for me!

They came bounding forward at the sight of me, pulling the sled after them. I could have wept, and hugged them half to death, scarcely able to believe that they had waited for me. It was a time for celebration. We ate a feast of Christmas leftovers before finally setting off, the three of us together again.

The miles fell behind us. I sat up on the high bench seat, wrapped against the cold with every blanket I could lay my hands on, and the tarpaulin thrown over
the top. The sky was dull, and flecks of snow kept falling, but nothing could dampen my spirits. I even found myself singing.

We passed silent hills, thick with snow, and trees as tall and noble as cathedrals. Slowly but surely we were moving into a wild, remote region, far from human habitation. Pools stood deep and frozen, cataracts iced over in the act of tumbling into them. Forests stood stock-still, like soldiers at attention, and cliffs rose on either side of us, creating long, dark gorges that provided perfect spots for mounting ambushes and attacks.

This was border country, where wars had once been fought. Deep ravines forced the river into ever-narrowing channels. Somewhere along here, I knew, my grandmother's much-loved Afon Gwy would turn into the English River Wye. But nothing could dampen my spirits, not even leaving Wales behind, passing down its deepest, darkest gullies and waving them goodbye.

I was on my way to a new life, and nothing could stop me. No twist or turn in the river could put me off. Every obstacle was an opportunity waiting to be seized. Every boulder in the river, every fallen log, was one step closer to my destination.

I was certain that we'd reach the sea by nightfall. Only when the light began to fade did I realise that we'd have to spend another night out in the open. I looked at Harri and Mari and saw how tired they were, and felt ashamed of myself for having driven them so hard. We passed through the little town of Hay-on-Wye, where we should have stopped to look for shelter, but the food was so low that we carried on.

A mile or so downriver, however, we could go no further. Even I could see that. We stopped in the shadow of a ruined castle where we ate a cold supper of bread and turkey scraps washed down with mouthfuls of snow. Then I released Harri and Mari from their harnesses and they bounded up and down the castle mound like children let out of school.

I followed at a more leisurely pace, climbing the mound in the hope of finding shelter at the top, only to discover that the castle was open to the elements. Not only that but, beyond its ruined walls, I couldn't see a place of shelter for miles. What were we going to do for the night?

I turned to leave, calling for Harri and Mari. But they totally ignored me, too busy digging holes in the snow to take any notice. It was as if their instincts for survival had taken over. When they'd formed a hole they liked, they flung themselves down into it, burrowing themselves as deeply as they could and then looking up at me, as if to say, ‘There's room for three. What are you standing there for –
come and join us
.'

So I did. I mean, what else could I do? I got down in the hole with them, and let them press themselves against me as if to keep me warm. Their bodies stank to high heaven, but I was past caring. I pulled my coat round me and closed my eyes, not expecting to get to sleep, but it was surprisingly easy. The last thing I felt was snow falling on to my face, and the last thing I remember was the thought of tomorrow being better, because, if we survived the night, we'd hopefully reach the sea.

In the morning I discovered that the last of the food had gone. As if being half dead with the cold wasn't bad enough, we had been robbed! I made my way down to the sled to discover that our food boxes were empty and scattered over the ice. We had had visitors in the night. The last turkey scraps had gone and so had everything else, down to the last few crumbs of Pawl's Christmas cake.

Harri and Mari looked at me, as if to say, ‘We didn't do it – it wasn't us,' and I looked at them as if to say, ‘I didn't do it either.' I criss-crossed the ice, collecting empty boxes and lids, blaming myself for not having packed things away properly after we had eaten last night. There wasn't a single scrap of food left on the ice. All I could find were paw marks.

‘Looks like foxes,' I said.

Harri and Mari looked at me as if to say they couldn't care less – all they cared about was that they were hungry. The bitter weather wasn't over yet and neither was our journey. What if we don't make it to
the sea today? I thought. What are we going to do without food?

We set off downriver, with nothing for breakfast but handfuls of snow, and nothing to fall back on but an Extra Strong Mint that I found in Pawl's coat. I offered it to Harri and Mari but they turned up their noses and I ate it instead. Not that it made any difference – my stomach still felt empty.

One place followed another in dull succession. The sky was heavy with yet more snow, and a cold wind blew into our faces. I walked beside the sled, carrying as much as I could to try to lighten Harri and Mari's load. We came round a great bend in the river and, ahead of us, I caught sight of rooftops and spires. We were on the outskirts of Hereford. I recognised it immediately.

We passed under an old road bridge, and a rugby club came into view, followed by a sea cadet hut and a rowing club, another road bridge, made of concrete, and one made of stone. Then we found ourselves on a lovely stretch of river beyond which rose Hereford Cathedral – which I also recognised immediately, because I'd been dragged along to it a couple of times for concerts by my sister's school orchestra.

By now, we were close to the city centre. The bishop's palace stood on one side of us and a huge park on the other. The wind had dropped, and people had come out for fun. Suddenly ours wasn't the only sled on the river. We had joined the world of people again. Joined it with a vengeance! Skaters whizzed past and children threw snowballs. A hot dog stall stood parked on the riverbank and another, selling baked potatoes, had been wheeled out on to the ice.

I could smell food, and so could Harri and Mari. We stopped at a little jetty half-hidden from view by bushes and trees. ‘You stay here,' I said to the dogs. ‘Guard the sled while I go and find us something to eat.'

Looking back, I would have done better to let the dogs do their own foraging, but I tied up the sled and set off, promising Harri and Mari that I wouldn't be long. First I hung around the stalls hoping that somebody would drop their food, or put it down and forget it. But they didn't, and people began to stare as if there was something odd about me, so I headed off into the city centre instead, cutting through the gates that marked the boundary of the cathedral precinct and skirting round the edge of the green.

The cathedral loomed over me like an ocean liner in a sea of snow. A signpost offered a range of possibilities, from visiting the Mappa Mundi exhibition – dedicated to the cathedral's most famous treasure, a map of the medieval world – to buying snacks in the coffee shop. The cathedral was full of rich pickings, it suddenly occurred to me, and if I was lucky, they'd all be in the care of ancient colonels with wobbly legs and lavender-scented old ladies who couldn't see properly. There were the takings in all its tills, then there were collecting boxes for general upkeep, and golden crosses and candlesticks, and piles of silver plate, and even altar cloths embroidered with gold thread.

It'd be so easy, I thought. I could grab what I liked, sell it, and be set up for life. I'd never have to worry about food again!

But, in the end, I walked on. It was bad enough
being a murderer, I reckoned, without adding burglary to my crimes. Besides, knowing my luck, it wouldn't only be aged helpers who guarded the cathedral's treasures, but an army of hefty vicar-types who might wear frocks but looked as tough as rugby prop-forwards!

So I spent the afternoon scavenging through bins instead, though not with much success. Hereford, it seemed, wasn't a place where people threw away their food. Nor did they drop money. I scoured the icy pavements as well, but didn't find a single coin.

Finally, aware that people were staring again, I headed back across the cathedral precinct. I could tell what would happen if I stayed much longer. Hereford was like Pengwern – a world of Neighbourhood Watch and good citizenship, where everyone knew everyone else, and the police were always called at the first hint of anything suspicious.

By now, it was getting dark. Shops were closing and people starting to go home. A whole day had gone by. So much for telling the dogs that I wouldn't be long! Freezing cold, and feeling that I'd let them down badly, I somehow managed to miss the cathedral gates. Cursing myself for my mistake, I ended up in the cathedral garden enclosed by cloister walls. I should have turned back, but was so exhausted by this point that I decided to take a rest on one of the many benches facing the bushes in the centre of the garden.

No sooner had I sat down, though, than a group of boys came along. They scurried down the cloister dressed in long blue frocks and laughing to each other. For a moment I thought that they were laughing about me, but they disappeared through a side door into the
cathedral without even looking my way. A little bit of light was briefly thrown across the garden, then the door shut behind them and darkness returned.

‘
Is that the last of them? Have they gone?
' a voice said.

I looked around, but couldn't see a soul. ‘Yes, they've gone,' I said.

‘Good,' the voice said, and a boy appeared from behind a rubbish bin in the darkest corner of the cloister. He was probably my age, but very strangely dressed. Not only did he wear a long blue frock, just like the other boys, but over the top of it were layers of cloaks and capes embroidered in gold. He also wore golden shoes, and a tall gold hat decorated with what looked like strips of wallpaper cut into flame shapes.

Was the boy a weirdo? Or was he just going to a fancy-dress party? And if so,
what as?
Before I could ask him, he started throwing off his finery, revealing ordinary clothes underneath. He stuffed the golden clothes into the rubbish bin, produced a pair of trainers and started putting them on.

‘If they come back looking for me, you won't tell?' he said, scarcely bothering to glance my way.

‘What's it worth to you if I don't?' I answered, quick as a flash.

The boy shrugged. ‘You can have this,' he said, digging a Mars bar out of his jacket pocket and throwing it my way.

I picked it up, wolfed it down and asked for more. ‘That's surely not all you're offering,' I said. ‘You must have something else. Money. Food. Anything will do.'

The boy stopped what he was doing and looked at
me, as if he'd caught the edge of desperation in my voice. I had made a big mistake. I turned my face away.

‘Perhaps I
do
have something else,' he said, a hint of cunning in his voice. ‘It all depends …'

‘Depends on what?' I said, again too quickly for my own good.

‘It depends on
you
,' the boy said. ‘There's a way that you could get all the money that you wanted, and the food. But you probably wouldn't want to. You wouldn't have the time, and you wouldn't be interested anyway. I mean, it's a bit of a bore. You've probably got better things to do with your time.'

He turned away as if he, too, had better things to do with his time. It was all a pretence, of course. He was desperate to catch me. And he did, as well!

‘What's it all about?' I asked. ‘What do I have to do?'

The boy grinned as if he'd got me, hook line and sinker. ‘There's nothing to it,' he said. ‘All you have to do is take my place in a little bit of pageantry in the cathedral. Dress up in my clothes, and march about. Every time you stop, the congregation will give you chocolate and cakes. And money, too. It's traditional, you see. A special Christmas custom. A bit of Christmas fun. I know it sounds crazy, but it's what they do.'

Now, of course, I know that it wasn't only crazy but a downright lie! And I probably knew it then, if I was honest with myself. But I was so desperate that I wouldn't listen to the warning voice inside. All I could think about was food and money – including a five-pound note that the boy found in his pocket and waved under my nose as a promise of what was to
come.

‘And all for a bit of walking about!' he said.

‘What if someone realises that I'm not you?' I said.

‘They won't,' he said. ‘The cathedral's lit by candles for a do like this. Nobody can see a thing. Trust me.'

I allowed myself to be persuaded. My new chum gave me the fiver, and what had I got to lose? Quite a lot, as it turned out – but I didn't know that yet.

‘
Oh, why not?
' I said, and made a grab for the funny clothes.

The boy helped me into them, plainly thrilled with the way things were turning out. I was a mate, he said – a sport, a great bloke, a gentleman and a chum. I said that he was a chum too. It was as if some strange insanity had taken hold of us. Together we pulled the blue frock over my head and smoothed it down over my trousers, put on the layers of cloaks and capes and got me into the golden shoes. Finally my new chum put the hat on to my head, ramming it down over my ears so that you could hardly see my face and telling me that it was called a mitre.

The name should have rung a warning bell but, for some strange reason, it didn't. Maybe I was too busy thinking about all the chocolate that I would soon be stuffing down, and the money in my pocket. Finally I was ready to go. The costume weighed a ton and looked ridiculous. It wasn't difficult to see why the boy had wanted to get out of wearing it. He tweaked it here and there, and pronounced me perfectly turned out.