The Palace Library by Steven Loveridge Page A

be wearing armour,” said Harry.  “It was too hot and too
heavy for him to wear with all the dragon’s flames.  But I can see the
lance, Ascalon!”
    Grace
added, “And the dragon is dead.  It should have surrendered to St.
George.”
    “You
are both right,” laughed Anwen.  “You see, the church is not so boring!”
    It
was Eleanor who had the sharpest eyes though.  She pointed to a purple
flower at the base of the picture.  “That’s the Purple Bane, the smelly
flower from my book!”
    “I’ve
never seen it in real life,” said Anwen, “and few people believe it actually
exists, even amongst healers.  It’s in all the pictures of St George I’ve
ever seen.  I know it by another name:  Dragons’ Bane.”
    “Dragons’
Bane,” gasped the children.  Then Harry added, “That’s in the Prophecy.”
He knew it all by heart now and quoted the verse: 
    “By
Dragons’ Bane, the children three
    Will
dull and lull the putrid lair,
    To
pluck from him the oily stone
    By
breathing out the vapoured air.”
    “Yes,”
carried on Anwen.  “The myth I’ve heard says it only grows where dragons
live, so it’s no surprise that I’ve never seen it.  A bane is a poison,
but I suppose where there is an evil like a dragon, nature may provide a
protection nearby.  It’s like finding a dock leaf in the same place that a
nettle has stung you.  One provides relief for the other.”
    Eleanor
was thinking and had pulled the book from the inner pocket of her cloak,
flicking through the pages to find the picture of the Purple Bane.
    “Oh
please don’t,” said Grace.  “It smells like a fart.”  Harry giggled.
    A
priest was heading towards them.  “It’s time to go outside,” said Anwen
quickly. 
    “The
priest doesn’t like what I do with plants and herbs,” whispered Anwen. “He says
faith should be enough to heal, but I believe nature is part of God’s
world.  In any case, as a woman, I shouldn’t be in the church alone with
you or anyone.  Let’s go.”
    She
closed the book for Eleanor, and they headed back into the daylight, blinking
as they went.
    “Eleanor,”
said Anwen as they walked, “you must learn what this Dragons’ Bane does when
you arrive at Hell’s Bay.  With some plants, it is enough to touch them to
implant their power.  With others you must dry them and crush them. 
Others must be immersed in water.  Others must be burnt to inhale the
fumes.  Use your book and what I’ve taught you.”
    As
they left the grounds of the church, Anwen seemed to relax.
    “Stop!”
shouted Grace.
    “What
is it?” asked Harry.
    “We
never visit this church without visiting Grandpa’s grave.  We should go
back.”
    “But
he hasn’t even been born yet,” whispered Harry.  “It’s 1164. There is no
grave.”
    “But
there will be,” said Eleanor.
    “You’re
right,” answered Harry after thinking for a moment.  “Will be or was or
is. It doesn’t matter.  Let’s go.”  They turned, but after a moment,
Harry looked at Anwen and said.  “We won’t be long.  Can you wait?”
    “Of
course.  I’ll wait in the inn.”
    The
three children went around to the south side of the church where their
grandfather would be buried and found a patch of rough wintery grass. 
“It’s here I think,” said Grace.
    “Shall
we say a prayer?” asked Harry.
    “I
don’t know what to say,” said Grace.
    “Nor
do I,” answered, Harry.  “Let’s just stay silent for a moment, shall we?”
    They
all knelt down and Sophie sat beside them too, with her head bowed.
    After
a minute, Eleanor said.  “I wish we had some flowers.  I’m going to
try something.”  She took the book out again and turned to the
lavender.  Then she flicked across the page, just as Edgar the Librarian
had when he gave them their purple cloaks.
    They
all looked.  Suddenly it seemed as if a flurry of air lifted something off
the page and settled on the ground.  They stared for a minute longer,