Free Fair Wind to Widdershins by Allan Frewin Jones

through a small gap in a broken-backed arched gateway.
    A square courtyard stood before them, the pavingstones rank with weeds and rustling grasses, the dilapidated buildings crawling with bell weed and thick-stemmed ivy. It smelled strongly of decay and rot. In the middle of all the dereliction, a tall square tower rose in a cloak of ivy. At the top of the tower, just visible through ivy leaves and tendrils, was a large clockface.

    “I hope the stairs are intact,” said Esmeralda as they approached the tower.
    She was in for a disappointment. The only entrance was clogged with rubble.
    “It looks like all the innards must have collapsed years ago,” said Jack disconsolately, kicking a big chunk of stone. “What a mess!”
    Esmeralda stepped back and stared up through the clinging ivy.
    “I suppose a brave and noble sort of person could climb up the outside,” she said thoughtfully. She looked at Trundle. “What do you think?”
    He opened his mouth to say that if she thought he was lunatic enough to try climbing all the way up to the top of the tower, she could think again. But he stopped. What was the point?
    “I’m afraid I’m rather too old for that kind of thing,” said Percy.
    “I could do it,” said Jack.
    “No,” said Trundle heavily. “I should climb up there if anyone does.”
    “He’s quite right,” said Esmeralda, looking admiringly at Trundle. “The Badger Blocks only showed the Princess in Darkness and the Lamplighter. Sorry, Jack, it’s great to have you along, but the quest belongs to me and Trundle—and I’m rotten with heights.” She looked at Trundle. “I’d do it otherwise,” she said.
    “Yes, I know you would,” he replied. “All right. Stand back, everyone, here goes nothing.”
    “If you fall, try to go limp,” said Jack. “You’ll break fewer bones that way.”
    “Thanks,” said Trundle. “I’ll bear that in mind.”
    He took off his brown robes and handed his sword to Esmeralda. The last thing he needed was for the long blade to get tangled up in the ivy! Esmeralda gave him the key. Tucking it securely in his belt, he tested the strength of the ivy stems. They seemed to be firmly stapled to the stonework of the tower. He sighed and thought of his cozy sitting room back in Shiverstones. Adventures, he thought to himself, would be so much more pleasant if they didn’t involve quite so many near-death experiences.
    He began to climb, spluttering and coughing as the acrid ivy dust got into his nose. Fortunately the stems were very thick and solid, clinging on to the face of the tower with fierce rootlets that dug right in between the stones.
    The unpleasant smell of rank, decaying ivy and rotting stone got right into Trundle’s snout. Every now and then he had to pause to sneeze and to wipe the dust out of his eyes. He looked down, seeing the anxious faces of Percy and his two friends staring up at him from surprisingly far below.
    He took a deep breath and continued to climb. His foot caught in between two stems, and he had a perilous time getting himself free again. Things got even more hazardous when he had to drag himself over a lip of stone about halfway up the tower. He hung on for dear life, muttering prayers to the Protector of all Small Mammals as he dragged himself up and over the projection while twigs and leaves and bits and pieces of stonework went raining down.
    “Careful!” shouted Esmeralda, rather unnecessarily.
    Trundle stared upward through the ivy leaves. Not far to go now! He tested a stem and put his weight on it. It cracked, and he was left dangling, clinging on by his fingers with his feet hanging in the air.
    Terrified, he fought to keep his grip while he searched blindly with his feet for some secure hold. At last his scrabbling toes found a solid branch, and he was able to take some of the wrenching weight off his poor arms. He hung there for a few moments, gathering his wits, his heart hammering under his ribs. Then he started climbing