Dropping right into the middle of a group of policemen, who, as one, drew guns and took aim at the pair of them. Ridley barely had time to react to this when the door to 10 Downing Street opened and Murray stumped out on his crutch, with a tight knot of more policemen and Magi behind him.
"Ah, there you are," he grunted and then added, as an afterthought, "My Lord. They're with us," and he waved his crutch at the policemen surrounding them.
The scrum of police and Magi - many of whom, Oscar now noticed, were wearing a green uniform he didn't recognise, which had silver emblems of the Knight Errant lance on the collars - parted as a fleet of limousines drew up and formed a defensive corridor between the cars and the front door, and it was somewhere in this confusion and flurry of barked orders that Oscar found himself shaking hands with the Prime Minister.
"I understand I have you to thank for my life, my boy," the Prime Minister pumped his hand up and down and clapped him on the shoulder, "There'll be an official statement, of course, but I can only say thank you and, well, good work."
The effect of the honour was almost ruined a moment later when a General ruffled his hair and called him a 'clever little fellow', but Oscar couldn't help grinning like an idiot as the politicians crammed past into the cars.
Cuddy came bustling up, looking very pleased himself.
"Going to the Palace," he said, trying to make it sound as if it was something he did regularly, "Lots to do... good work you two, by the way, very nicely handled - looked very good that, Marion, springing into action like that, impressed the PM, I could tell.
"And we're going to need more of that sort of thing - we're public now and we have to use it, understand? We have to take up our responsibilities - the Knights Errant are going to be taking charge of the defence against the Wild Ride, but we need more than that: we need results, we need the Erl King - that's your job now Oscar, and yours, Ridley: don't let me down."
And then he was gone, disappearing into a knot of policemen to be bundled into car with the Home Secretary and a very confused looking Admiral.
The cars had pulled away in a flurry of activity, pulling, in their wake, squads of Knights Errant and policemen off on desperate errands and vital missions, until Downing Street was suddenly quiet and almost empty.
Ridley and Oscar walked down towards Whitehall. Already the whole area was sealed off by policemen, but now, in the distance, Oscar could see Spirits taking up their part: statues stumping down from their plinths to take up guard positions in road junctions, Wyverns flapping blackly down to perch on streetlamps, Knight Mares clattering off to herd traffic away. And slowly the stillness of these streets was spreading out across the city as roads were closed, shops were shut, offices emptied, as the terror of the Erl King blanketed the whole of London in a quaking silence.
"So," said Ridley, "We have our orders, then, my Lord, the trouble being, where do we start?"
"Well," said Oscar, "I've been thinking about this, a bit. I've been thinking about Hopkins."
"Hopkins?" Ridley was surprised, "Who on earth is Hopkins?"
"He's man in the White Tower. I saw him in there."
"Oh," Ridley went quiet, "That Hopkins."
"I know, but listen, when we were getting everyone out of the Tower he wanted to see Maggs, to tell her something, but then he wouldn't say what it was and refused to leave the Tower."
"So? He was mad before he went in there, if you believe the stories, he's probably a fair bit madder now."
"No, well, yes, but I was thinking about what the thing, the mask, said in the Museum, something about, being held prisoner in fear, you know, and it made think of the White Tower and made think of Hopkins and what he might know about Maggs."
"And what he might know," the light was dawning on Ridley's face, "About the Darklings..."
They were standing the courtyard of Hopkins' castle, but it had changed almost out of all recognition since the last time Oscar had been there. This time there were no sign of servants or soldiers, except for something in a corner that Oscar was rather afraid might be a body. There were gaping holes in the walls and miles of broken masonry all around. The courtyards was covered in piles of rubbish and discarded, broken weapons. Here and there were smouldering heaps of wood and cloth. Black and grey smoke drifted over the scene. Somewhere far away they could hear shouting and screaming and the clash of war. The ground trembled under their feet with the distant rumble of explosions.
"It wasn't like this last time we were here," said Oscar, "They were all parading and everything and there were walls..."
"I don't know what's going on," said Ridley, "But I think we ought to get out of it - which way was it?"
They found the library, eventually, and in it they found the servant who had shown them there the last time they had visited; only this time he was hiding under a table. Ridley hauled him out and sat him down.
"What's going on here?"
"The rebels... they attacked..."
"That's it!" it was coming back to Oscar, "He said something about being crowned every morning and then starting a revolution every afternoon..."
"Starting a revolution? Against himself?" Ridley was confused.
"Oh, there's always a revolution - every day," said the servant, "Then his ineffableness puts it down and we crown him again. But this time he didn't. It didn't stop - they're still fighting - so I came and hid in here. They never come in here - not ever..."
"You mean Hopkins didn't beat his own rebellion? Hopkins is winning? I mean, Hopkins the rebel," Ridley was starting to confuse herself
"Oh no, ma'am, no one is winning," said the servant blithely, "Because his unbelievableness has gone, so no one's in charge - they're just fighting because they don't know what else to do."
"Hopkins has gone?"
"His Wondrousness has gone into shadow, my lady - they've been rebelling since then."
"Gone into shadow? You mean the Wild Ride?"
"A darkness came and His Marvellousness went with it," said the servant. He sounded like he wasn't quite sure what had happened.
"Sounds like Erl King beat us to it," said Ridley.
"They said before that he was in league with the Darklings, perhaps he's helping them somehow."
"My word, if he is, I think I know how, and I think I now know why the rebels never attack the library," Ridley was looking at the bookshelves, "Look at this: Newton's Principia Magica, Hawksmoor's Commonplace Book, Dashwood's Hellfire Diaries... this has got to be one of the most complete libraries of magical books I've ever seen..."
"I don't understand," Oscar was trying to extract a copy of Seven Spells of Seven Effective Magicians, which he thought sounded useful, "I mean, isn't this prison? How could he get all these books in here?"
"Circles and moons!" Ridley clapped her hands, "That's it, that's why he wouldn't leave - this is what was keeping him here - this is what the White Tower gave him - a library any Magi was dream of - every spell book ever written, even the lost ones, the ancient ones, all under one roof! He beat the White Tower! Man's a genius..."
"I think he's batty - rebelling against himself everyday."
"So he's spent his time in here researching into magic..."
"And rebelling against himself..."
"And rebelling against himself... what more could the Erl King want? The question is what do they want with Maggs?"
"The terrible work the King hath wrought shall by the King's own hand be brought to naught."
Ridley whirled round: "What did you just say, Oscar?"
"It's something Maggs said - and it's written down here," Oscar was bending over a desk, looking at some notes that had been left lying on it. He read it out again: "'The terrible work the King hath wrought, by the King's own hand shall be brought to naught.' What does it mean?"
Ridley moved to look over his shoulder.
"I've heard her say it myself - she always said it was the only thing she could remember from before the Wild Ride attacked her.... Stars and Spirits!" Ridley slapped her hand over her mouth, "That's Maggs' handwriting, I'm sure of it - these must be her notes! What else is there?"
Oscar riffled through the pages on the desk: they were all covered in strange spidery symbols and diagrams - then something recognisable jumped put at him:
"Look, a map!"
"Let me see..." Ridley laid it flat on the table between them, "...looks like a city..."
"Ork... I've never heard of that... is it a magical place?"
"I think that's just the end of the name... York, perhaps? Yes, I think it is - what's that there?"
"Looks like someone's scribbled on it... I can't read it though..."
"No it's in Enochian, a magical language, but it's in code, too, I can't make it out... I do know one thing, though..."
"What's that?"
"I have looked into your future, my Lord, and I foresee a long journey by train..."
