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The Kingdom Of CARBONEL

Barbara Sleigh was born in 1906 in Warwickshire. She took an art teacher’s training course, and began to write stories for children for radio. She was a lecturer at Goldsmiths’ Teacher Training College, then in 1933 joined the staff of BBC Children’s Hour. Three years later she married David Davis, who later became Head of Children’s Hour.

The Kingdom of Carbonel, the second book in the Carbonel trilogy, was first published over forty years ago and today it is still one of the most popular fantasies for younger children.

Barabara Sleigh died in 1982.

Books by Barbara Sleigh

CARBONEL

THE KINGDOM OF CARBONEL

CARBONEL AND CALIDOR

GRIMBLEGRAW AND THE WUTHERING WITCH

NINETY-NINE DRAGONS

The Kingdom of CARBONEL

BARBARA SLEIGH

Illustrated by Richard Kennedy

PUFFIN

PUFFIN BOOKS

Published by the Penguin Group

Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3

(a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

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(a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

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Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, North Shore 0632, New Zealand

(a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

puffinbooks.com

First published in the USA by Bobbs-Merrill 1960

Published in Puffin Books 1971

Reissued in this edition 2007

1

Text copyright © Barbara Sleigh, 1960

All rights reserved

Except in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

EISBN: 978–0–141–90232–6

Contents

1 The Green Cave

2 Carbonel Again

3 Prism Powder

4 Hedgem and Fudge

5 The Red Mixture

6 The Royal Kittens

7 Figg’s Bottom

8 The Rocking Chair

9 The Walled Garden

10 Making Plans

11 Cat Country

12 Conspiracy

13 Stranded

14 Gone!

15 Miss Dibdin’s Magic

16 Invisible

17 Adelaide Row

18 Calidor

19 The Pet Shop

20 ‘All Hands to the Pump’

21 Dossy

22 The Queen of Sheba

23 Milly

24 The Counter-Spell

25 The Green Mixture

26 Council of War

27 The Friendship Ceremony

28 The Attack

29 Minuscule Magic

30 The Return of the Kings

31 The Final Magic

1

The Green Cave

Rosemary Brown picked a stick of rhubarb from the end of the garden, and taking care not to spill the sugar in the saucer she was carrying, bent herself double and crept between the currant bushes. Then she sat down in the green cave made by the unpruned branches which met over her head. The ground was covered with coarse grass, and it made a very comfortable secret place.

She dipped the rhubarb into the saucer and bit off the sweetened end with a crunch. In spite of the sugar, it was so sour that it made her nose wrinkle, so she licked the end of her finger, pressed it in the saucer and finished the sugar that way instead. When it was all gone, she lay flat on her back with her hands under her head and stared up at the summer sky which showed through the shifting chinks between the leaves.

There was half an hour before she would need to get ready to meet her friend John at the station, and the whole summer lay ahead. It was nearly a year since she had seen him, but what a full year it had been! First of all there had been moving. Life was very pleasant now that she and her mother lived in the top flat at 101 Cranshaw Road, instead of in uncomfortable furnished rooms. Then there had been the fun of playing in the big, pleasantly neglected garden. Lessons, too, had gone so much better. She had worked very hard and, as a result, had won a scholarship and next term was going to the high school. Being between two schools gave her a pleasantly suspended feeling, like treading water.

Rosemary gently prodded a ladybird which had been walking over the gingham mountain of her chest. She wanted it to climb on to her finger.

‘I hope it will be as much fun playing with John this holiday as it was last summer,’ she said aloud to the little creature. After being headed off twice, it had obligingly clambered on to her fingernail.

‘We had some glorious games,’ she went on thoughtfully. ‘Of course we had the garden at Tussocks to play in then.’ Tussocks was the grand home of John’s aunt who lived outside the town. ‘But it’s a funny thing, Ladybird, I can’t remember what it was that was such fun when John came to play with me! It was something to do with a black cat. He was called Carbonel. And then there was an old woman whose name was Mrs Cantrip. I think,’ she added slowly, ‘she was a witch, and there was magic. Or did I dream that part?’

Rosemary frowned. She had a vague idea that magic and high school girls did not go together, so she shook her head in a puzzled way. ‘I’m sure there was something else.’

The ladybird was now plodding laboriously up the slope of her finger. When it reached the back of her hand, it sat quite still for a moment in one of the little dapples of sunlight that filtered through the leaves, then, without any warning, spread its spotted wings and flew away.

‘Of course! Flying!’ said Rosemary, sitting up suddenly. ‘That’s what we did, and on a broomstick! Now I wonder if –’

But she never said what she wondered, for sitting at her feet, quite motionless, with his eyes closed as though he was waiting for something, was the most magnificent black cat she had ever seen. The golden flecks of sunshine gleamed on his glossy coat and the magnificent span of his whiskers. He opened his great yellow eyes as Rosemary sat up, but he did not move.

‘Why,’ said Rosemary, ‘I was just that minute thinking of a black cat I knew once… or I think I did… or perhaps I dreamed about…’ She tailed off lamely. The feeling that the creature had been sitting there for some time without her knowledge, combined with his unwinking golden stare, made her feel a little uncomfortable.

‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘you are almost as beautiful as the cat in my dream, and he was a royal cat, so you need not be offended,’ she added hurriedly, almost to herself.

The animal had lifted its head in a disdainful way.