Diana Jones: The Crown of Dalemark

First published in Great Britain by Mandarin in 1993

This edition published by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2017

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Copyright © Diana Wynne Jones 1993

Map illustration © Sally Taylor 2017

Cover artwork © Manuel Šumberac

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers 2017

Diana Wynne Jones asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

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Source ISBN: 9780008170714

Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780008170721

Version: 2016-11-25

For Rachel

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Map of North and South Dalemark

PART ONE: Mitt

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

PART TWO: Maewen

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

PART THREE: Ring and Cup

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

PART FOUR: Sword and Crown

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

PART FIVE: Kankredin

Chapter Twenty-Two

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Books by Diana Wynne Jones

About the Publisher

THE EARL OF HANNART arrived in Aberath two days before Midsummer. He was bringing the Countess of Aberath a portrait of the Adon to put in her collection. As this was a state visit, he brought his son as well and a string of his hearthmen, and his arrival caused a rare bustle.

A tall man dressed like a shepherd watched it all from high in the hills where the green roads ran. He had an excellent view from there, not only into the seething courts of the mansion but of the whole town, the cliffs, the bay and the boatsheds. The Earl was easy to pick out among the hurrying figures, because he was with a servant carrying the picture. The man watched them go straight to the library, where he knew the Countess was waiting to receive the Earl. Almost immediately the servant was sent away to fetch someone else. The watcher could see him pushing his way, first to the stables, then to the dining hall, and finally to the hearthmen’s quarters, where he fetched out a large gangly person and pointed to the library. The gangly one set off there at a run, on long, gawky legs.

The watcher turned away. “So they did send for this Mitt,” he said as if this had confirmed his worst suspicions. Then he looked up and round and over his shoulder, clearly thinking that someone else was standing nearby, watching too. But the green road was empty. The man shrugged and set off walking swiftly inland.

About the same time as this man left, Mitt arrived at the top of the library steps, trying not to pant, and pushed open the creaky door.

“Oh, there you are,” said the Countess. “We want you to kill someone.”

She was never one to beat about the bush. It was almost the only thing Mitt liked about her. All the same, he wondered if he had heard her right. He stared at her long, bony face, which was set slightly crooked on her high shoulders, and then looked at Earl Keril of Hannart to make sure. Mitt had been ten months now in Aberath, but the North Dalemark accent there still sometimes made him hear things wrong. Earl Keril was dark, with a long nose. Everyone said what a likeable man he was, but he was looking at Mitt as grimly as the Countess.

“Didn’t you hear?” Earl Keril asked. “We want someone dead.”

“Yes. Is this a joke of some kind?” Mitt said. But he could tell from their faces that it was not. He felt cold and disgusted, and his knees shook. “I gave up killing – I told you!” he said to the Countess.

“Nonsense,” she said. “Why else do you think I had you trained as my hearthman?”

“ You would have it that way, not me!” Mitt said. “And I never kidded myself you made me learn all that out of love for me!”

Earl Keril looked questioningly at the Countess.

“I warned you he was rude,” she said. She leant towards him, and they murmured together.

Mitt was too disgusted to try to overhear. He looked beyond their two implacable faces at the painting of the Adon propped on an easel behind them. The light was across the canvas from where Mitt stood, in a bluish haze, but the painted eyes caught his, like dark holes in the haze. They looked ill and haunted. The famous Adon had been far from handsome, sickly-looking, with lank hair and crooked shoulders. Near on a cripple, like the Countess , Mitt thought. She and Earl Keril both descended from the Adon. She had the shoulders; Keril had the Adon’s long nose. Earlier that day Mitt would have been thoroughly disappointed to find that the Adon looked like this. Since he came to Aberath, he had heard story after story of the Adon, the great hero who had talked with the Undying and lived as an outlaw before he became the last King of Dalemark several hundred years ago. Now he looked from the painting to the two living faces leaning together in the twilight of the library, and he thought, Fairy stories! Bet he was just as bad as they are! Well, I ran off from Holand, so I reckon I can run off from Aberath too .

Just then he caught a murmur from Keril. “Oh, yes, I’m sure that he is!” Sure I am what? Mitt wondered as they both looked at him again. “We’ve gone into your history,” Keril said to him. “Attempted murder in Holand. Successful murder in the Holy Islands—”

“That’s a lie!” Mitt said angrily. “Whatever you think, I never murdered a single soul! And I gave up trying long before I came here.”

“Then you’ll have to force yourself to try again,” said the Countess. “Won’t you?”

“And you came on here by boat,” Keril went on, before Mitt could speak, “with Navis Haddsson and his children Hildrida and Ynen. In Aberath the Countess took you in and had you educated—”

“For my sins,” the Countess said unlovingly.

“So you see the North has treated you well,” Earl Keril said. “Better than most refugees from the South, in fact, both you and your friends. We found Navis a post as hearthman to Stair of Adenmouth, and we sent Hildrida to study at the Lawschool in Gardale. Have you ever wondered why this was?” As Mitt wondered about it, Keril added pleasantly, “Why the four of you were separated in this way, I mean.”

It was a pleasantness that made Mitt feel like a sack with a hole in it. Everything trickled away through the hole, and his knees almost let him down. “Where’s Ynen then?” he said. “Isn’t he with Navis?”