The Chrestomanci Series: Entire Collection Books 1-7. Diana Wynne Jones

sat up and realised that the Casa was full of unusual noises. Below in the yard, the gate was open. He could hear the voices of Elizabeth, Aunt Anna, Aunt Maria and Cousin Claudia, who were bringing the day’s bread.

      “Just look at the Angel!” he heard his mother say. “Now what did that?”

      “It’s because we’ve stopped our spells,” said Cousin Claudia.

      Following that came a single note of song from Aunt Anna, cut off short with a squeak.

      Aunt Maria said angrily, “No spells, Anna! Think of Tonino!”

      This was intriguing, but what really interested Paolo were the noises behind the voices: marching feet, orders being shouted, a drum beating, horses’ hooves, heavy rumbling and some cursing. Paolo shot out of bed. It must be the army.

      “Hundreds of them,” he heard Aunt Anna say.

      “Most of them younger than my Domenico,” said Aunt Maria. “Claudia, take this basket while I shut the gate. All going to face three armies without a war-scrip between them. I could cry!”

      Paolo shot along the gallery, pulling on his jacket, and hurried down the steps into the cold yellow sunlight. He was too late. The gate was barred and the war-noises shut out. The ladies were crossing the yard with their baskets.

      “Where do you think you’re going?” Elizabeth called to him. “No one’s going out today. There’s going to be fighting. The schools are all closed.”

      They put down their baskets to open the kitchen door. Paolo saw them recoil, with cries of dismay.

      “Good Lord!” said Elizabeth.

      “Don’t anyone tell Gina!” said Aunt Maria.

      At the same moment, someone knocked heavily at the Casa gate.

      “See who that is, Paolo,” called Aunt Anna.

      Paolo went under the archway and undid the flap of the peephole. He was pleased to have this chance to see the army, and pleased that the schools were shut. He had not intended to go to school today anyway.

      There was a man in uniform outside, who shouted, “Open and receive this, in the name of the Duke!” Behind him, Paolo caught glimpses of shiny marching boots and more uniforms. He unbarred the gate.

      Meanwhile, it became plain that Aunt Gina was not to be kept away from the kitchen. Her feet clattered on the stairs. There was a stunned pause. Then the whole Casa filled with her voice.

      “Oh my God! Mother of God! Insects!” It even drowned the noise of the military band that was marching past as Paolo opened the gate.

      The man outside thrust a sheet of paper at Paolo and darted off to hammer on the next door. Paolo looked at it. He had a mad idea that he had just been handed the words to the Angel. After that, he went on staring, oblivious alike of Aunt Gina – who was now screaming what she was going to do to Lucia – and of the great gun that went rumbling past, pulled by four straining horses.

      State of Caprona, Paolo read, Form FR3 Call Up of Final Reservists. The following to report to the Arsenal for immediate duty at 03.00 hrs, January 14th, 1979: Antonio Montana, Lorenzo Montana, Piero Montana, Ricardo Montana, Arturo Montana (ne Notti), Carlo Montana, Luigi Montana, Angelo Montana, Luca Montana, Giovanni Montana, Piero Iacopo Montana, Rinaldo Montana, Domenico Montana, Francesco Montana.

      That was everyone! Paolo had not realised that even his father was a Final Reservist.

      “Shut the gate, Paolo!” shrieked Aunt Maria.

      Paolo was about to obey, when he remembered that he had not yet looked at the Angel. He dodged outside and stared up, while half a regiment of infantry marched past behind him. It looked as if, in the night, every pigeon in Caprona had chosen to sit on that one golden carving. It was plastered with bird-droppings. They were particularly thick, not unnaturally, on the outstretched arm holding the scroll, and the scroll was a crusty white mass. Paolo shuddered. It seemed like an omen. He did not notice one of the marching soldiers detach himself from the column and come up behind him.

      “I should close the gate, if I were you,” said Chrestomanci.

      Paolo looked up at him and wondered why people looked so different in uniform. He pulled himself together and dragged the two halves of the gate shut. Chrestomanci helped him slot the big iron bars in to lock it. As he did, he said, “I was at the Casa Petrocchi around dawn, so there’s no great need for explanations. But I would like to know what’s the matter in the kitchen this time.”

      Paolo looked. Eight baskets piled high with round tan-coloured loaves stood outside the kitchen. There were agitated noises from inside it, and a curious long droning-sound. “I think it’s Lucia’s spell again,” he said.

      He and Chrestomanci set off across the yard. Before they had gone three steps, the aunts burst out of the kitchen and rushed towards him. Antonio and the uncles hurried down from the gallery, and cousins arrived from everywhere else.

      Aunt Francesca surged out of the Saloon. She had spent the night there, and looked as if she had. Chrestomanci was soon in the middle of a crowd and holding several conversations at once.

      “You were quite right to call me,” he said to Rosa, and to Aunt Francesca, “Old Niccolo is good for years yet, but you should rest.” To Elizabeth and Antonio, he said, “I know about Tonino,” and to Rinaldo, “This is my fourth uniform today. There’s heavy fighting in the hills and I had to get through somehow. What possessed the Duke,” he asked the uncles, “to declare war so soon? I could have got help from Rome if he’d waited.” None of them knew, and they all told him so at once. “I know,” said Chrestomanci. “I know. No war-spells. I think our enemy enchanter has made a mistake over Tonino and Angelica. If it does nothing else, it allows me a free hand.” Then, as the clamour showed no sign of abating, he said, “By the way, the Final Reserve has been called up,” and nodded to Paolo to give the paper to Antonio.