Ordinary Joe and the Mark of Four
Chapter Eight

Joe woke slowly from a dreamless sleep into a room he did not know. Opening his eyes he flinched, a wave of dizziness washing over him and he snapped them shut, waiting for the feeling to pass. When his head stopped spinning he tried again, slowly, getting used to the glare.

At first a surge of relief flooded over him. He was back in his small, untidy bedroom in Cardenfield, waking from a terrible nightmare. But looking around the room, a feeling of dread settled in his stomach.

He lay on a large, white bed, covered with thick white blankets, head propped on a stack of pillows. The bed sat in the middle of a large, square room, surrounded by white cabinets, with white shelves on the white walls, and white rugs dotted across the white tiled floor. Thick white curtains across the window blocked out any light, the room lit instead by sparkling white lanterns. On a far cabinet a white clock ticked. It was the only sound.

When he first woke, eyes closed to the glare, he felt as if he were being watched. Now he knew why. On every surface, crowded on every shelf, were hundreds of motionless dolls, dressed in white lace, with broad white hats and frilly white bonnets. They stared with glassy, lifeless eyes. Joe tried to ignore them.

He thought back to his escape from the hound and remembered with a shudder his plunge into the freezing river. Had the others escaped the giant and its horrible master? A sick knot of panic welled up in his stomach, remembering the look on Sam’s face, hands clutching the rips across his chest, blood running through his fingers. Was he hurt? Dead? He shook the thought from his head. No, Sam was fine, he had Kinga to tend his wounds, as she had Joe’s. His hands healed in seconds. Sam was fine. He repeated the words, blocking out the doubts and wondered instead how he had ended up in this place.

He remembered being dragged onto a rock, laying there, struggling to breathe, and the strange, pig-like creatures grunting and prodding at him. A pale woman leaning over and giving him a cold smile. He had no idea who they were, but he would have drowned without their help. They had saved his life, just like Kinga. Just like Sam. He fell back against the pillows and sighed.

Where was he? Kinga has called it another world, Antigol; his home. As crazy as it was, he believed her, about being another world anyway. It didn’t feel like home. All he wanted was to go back to Cardenfield and watch TV or play on his X-Box. He didn’t want to hear about Kings and Councils and Marks of Four. None of it could be true. If it was, his parents were alive, a cruel hope he couldn’t bear to believe. He groaned and stuffed his head under the pillow to block out the thoughts.

There was a knock at the door.

Joe sat up, shoving the pillow aside. When he spoke, he made such a feeble sound he had to shout again to be heard.

“Come in.”

The ivory handle turned slowly and with a soft click the door opened. For a second Joe thought no-one was there but his gaze fell to floor, where a tiny wretched looking creature stood, dressed in grey rags, one weak hand reaching up to the handle. It was the most pathetic creature Joe had ever seen. He might burst into tears at the sight of it.

It peered around the room nervously and a brief look of terror flashed in its eyes at the sight of the dolls. Hastily it turned to Joe, catching his eye, and dropped its gaze to the floor.

“The Queen wonders if young sir is feeling strong enough to join her for supper,” it said in a voice like a weary sigh. Supper? How long had he been asleep? Surely not a whole day! He realised he was wearing pyjamas, though he couldn’t remember putting them on. Where were his clothes?

“Fresh clothes have been provided by the mistress,” the creature said, as if reading his mind, “In the trunk, at the bottom of Sir’s bed. Will Sir be joining Mistress?”

“Yes,” Joe said. It would be rude not to accept after all the trouble she had gone to. “Did you say Queen?”

The creature shuffled nervously,

“Must not talk!” it said, “Please dress, I will wait outside.” Then it crept backwards from the room and pulled the door shut behind it. After a soft click, except for the ticking of the clock, there was silence again.

The Queen’s dining hall was a long white room with a high arched ceiling. Sparkling white lanterns burned on tall pillars around its edges and in the centre was a long white table surrounded by brilliantly white high backed chairs. The Queen sat at the far end, dressed in white silk robes with a sparkling crown sitting atop her sleek white hair. She smiled and though her lips curled the right way, her small round eyes were hard and cold. Her fingers were bristling with white rings, set with fat white diamonds, and around her neck were rows of white pearls. Her gaze flicked to Joe’s escort.

“Mudrot!” she snapped. The trembling creature rushed forward, pulling out a chair for Joe. More creatures like Mudrot were standing in a trembling line along the table’s edge. Behind them stood more of the strange pig-like guards which had pulled Joe from the river. They were short and fat, covered in black armour, with curved swords hanging from their waists and thick shields strapped to their backs. They sneered at the servants and chuckled when they cowered.

“You’ll have to excuse Mudrot,” the Queen said, “He’s not used to visitors.”

“Thank you,” Joe said, sitting down. The creature gave him a startled look.

“Oh no need to thank him,” said the Queen, “He lives to serve.” Mudrot scurried back to the others, trembling and bowing his head. They all looked terrified, except one, fatter and older than the others, standing alone, hands behind his back and head held high. The guards ignored him.

“Thanks for the clothes,” Joe said, trying his best to sound grateful. He was wearing a suit he found in the trunk at the foot of the bed. It was completely white of course and stiff as cardboard. The collar itched, but he tried to ignore it. “What happened to mine?”

“Oh, they were soaked through,” the Queen said, “I’m having them cleaned. But don’t you look splendid in white!” Joe blushed. The Queen leaned forward and looked concerned, or at least attempted to make her eyebrows drop and her mouth curl down at the corners, as if she’d learned it from a book. “Are you feeling better?” she said.

“Better?” Joe was aware of every set of eyes in the room watching him. The Queen nodded, adding extra curl to her lips,

“After your terrible fall,” she said in a soft, understanding voice.

“Oh,” Joe said, “Um, yes, thank you.” The Queen clapped her hands together excitedly, making the servants jump.

“Thank heavens! You could have been killed you know! Oh what a dreadful tragedy that would have been.” She squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced to show how terrible she was feeling. One eye popped open to see if Joe had noticed. She relaxed again and gave him a smile, “We were very worried! We didn’t know who you were, or where you were from!” She paused and looked expectantly at Joe. A servant was busy tucking a napkin into his collar.

“Oh!” he said, “I’m Joe, Joe Owen.”

“Jojowohin!” the Queen said excitedly, “What a lovely name!” Joe tried to keep the smile from his face,

“Um, no, just Joe,” he said. The servants trembled and the Queen tapped her fingers on the table top, lip twitching. Even the guards held their breath. Her smile returned,

“Thank you for correcting me Joe,” she said, “Now, tell me, what’s a poor frail boy like you doing in Junn?” She spoke with a sweet innocent tone, but Joe felt like he was being interrogated. He wanted to tell the truth, but if the queen found out he was from Earth it would only lead to more questions, and he had to replace his friends. He remembered Kinga’s words to the hound.

“I was on a pilgrimage,” he said, “I was with friends but we got separated and I ended up in the river.” The Queen raised an eyebrow,

“Friends?” she said, “Oh dear! I do hope they’re alright.”

“They’ll be looking for me. Sam was hurt.” He remembered the blood running through Sam’s fingers and shivered. “I should go and look for them.”

“No!” the Queen jumped to her feet. Her eyes flashed furiously but seeing Joe’s terrified face, she slowly sank back into her seat, her expression softening again, “I mean, it would be too dangerous! You need to rest. I suppose I could send some guards to replace them for you.”

“We’re supposed to meet a man called Maven,” Joe said. The temperature in the room dropped suddenly. The Queen’s lip twitched,

“Maven?” she said innocently, “Is he a friend of yours?” Joe shook his head,

“No, well, maybe. I don’t know. He’s supposed to be helping me, but I’ve never met him.” The Queen smiled and for once it looked genuine.

“I will have my men look out for him too.”

“Thank you,” Joe said. He wanted to go with them but she was right. He was hungry and tired and would probably only get in the way. The Queen grinned a brace of sparkling teeth, glad the matter was settled, and clapped her hands.

“Food! Food!” she cried. The table was piled high with white serving trays, contents hidden under shiny white lids. Bubbles popped in jugs of white liquid. The servants bustled around, shoved by the guards, uncovering dozens of dishes running down the table and a delicious mingle of smells filled the air. The Queen’s long nails tapped impatiently.

“I wasn’t sure what you would like,” she said, “So I had cook make everything. Eat ! Eat!” The feast was incredible. Fat golden chickens with crackling skin sat in beds of crispy roast potatoes. Deep dishes overflowed with creamy mashed potato and carrots smothered in butter. Fat sausages sizzled on hot plates, with juicy chops and sticky ribs. Huge vats of steaming soup steamed beside long trays of hot, fresh bread, with curls of golden butter and a rainbow of jams clustered around in pots. Joe’s stomach grumbled. Around the room the pig guards inched closer, snouts twitching and hungry drool dribbling from their chins.

The Queen clapped her hands furiously, “Soup! Soup!”

Mudrot hurried to the table, head bowed, and snatched up a large jug of steaming soup. He hurried along the table with it but suddenly stumbled, sending the jug flying through the air. The servants scattered but the pig guards were too slow. Hot soup crashed over them and they squealed. Mudrot leaned to Joe’s ear,

“Don’t eat,” he whispered. The Queen sprang to her feet.

“Mudrot! You fool!” she roared. She caught Joe’s stunned expression and stopped herself, lowering her raised hands and managing a smile. She smoothed down her silk robes, “You’ll have to be more careful in future,” she finished sweetly, “Look at all this mess!” The servant quivered.

The servants busied themselves mopping up the soup and at the far end of the room a door crashed open. A guard waddled in, hurrying to the Queen and whispered in her ear. The smile dropped from her face and her eyes thinned to angry slits. She nodded, nails drumming so fiercely on the table they left tiny grooves. Finally she stood and her servants and guards quickly bowed.

“I’m afraid I have to leave,” she said, “A disturbance in the grounds, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Please, enjoy the food.” She turned, giving Mudrot a murderous glare, and stalked from the room, trailed by several guards. The door slammed behind her.

Joe looked at the food and his stomach grumbled. He was so hungry but the look on Mudrot’s face was deadly serious. He stood up, pulling his napkin free.

“I’m not really hungry,” he said. His stomach gurgled in protest at this lie. One of the guards shoved Joe back into his chair, still licking soup from its snout.

“Mistress said eat, so eat!” it grunted. Mudrot gave a small shake of his head.

“No, really, I’m not hungry. To be honest, I think I need to go back to bed. I feel a bit dizzy.” The last part at least was true. His legs ached and when he turned nausea washed over him. The guard chewed its snout and grunted, eyeing the plates of food greedily.

“The boss won’t be ‘appy for all this food to go to waste. S’pose me an’ the lads could finish it for yer,” it said. The other guards grunted in agreement, drooling excitedly. “Away and sleep then! Mudrot, take ’im back to ’is room.” The servant bowed low and scurried over to Joe. It took his hand, its own surprisingly warm, and led him to the door.

“Thank you for everything,” Joe said but the guards were already at the table, snout deep in the feast, slurping and chomping.

Mudrot dragged him from the room. He wondered why the strange creature had warned him not to eat the food. If it was dangerous, he was lucky the Queen had been called away. A sudden chill crept along his spine. They didn’t get many visitors she had said. So who was making a disturbance in the grounds?