Tung crept out of the prison basement and navigated his way through the people milling around the cobbled courtyard which led to the main gate out of the castle keep.

"Are you still there?" he whispered.

"Yes, but we can't keep talking, someone will hear us."

"Look, it's not too crowded here, so let's stick together by holding hands." He surprised himself when he suggested it, but it was the easiest way to stay in touch. After a bit of swishing his arms around, he felt something invisible.

"Ow," said Madrick. "My nose."

"Shhh," said Tung as he felt his way down Madrick's face and arm to his hand. "Right, now hold on tight."

They approached the castle gate where four beefy guards were questioning people as they passed in and out. He tensed a little and held Madrick's hand tighter, like a child would grip a parent's hand when scared.

"Hey, you two," shouted one of the guards, looking straight at them.

Tung froze.

"Yeah, you two," shouted the guard, louder this time.

Had they suddenly become visible? He looked at where Madrick was, nothing. He examined himself, nothing. How the hell could the guard see them? What was happening? Just as he was about to leg it, he heard footsteps behind him; running footsteps. He turned, preparing for a fight, but what he saw made him laugh. Two men were scampering away across the courtyard, dropping raw eggs as they fled; stolen eggs, he guessed.

"Stop them," screamed the guard as he brushed past Tung and set off in pursuit of the runners.

"This is too easy," whispered Tung as he slipped through the gate and into the narrow streets which criss-crossed the inner ward of the great stone fortification. This was indeed too easy.

The castle stood on a hill and towered over Thamesius, the largest town in Mifal's kingdom. The massive structure could be seen from every part of the city. It was a magnificent stone construction with thick granite ramparts and high defensive towers at each corner of the pentagon-shaped outer walls. With its reputation of being impenetrable, most of England's various invaders avoided it and got on with the job of conquering the rest of Britain. William and his all-conquering Normans came years later and even he chose to form an uneasy alliance with Mifal rather than tackle the daunting defences. Thamesius therefore attracted thousands of rural dwellers who were fed up with being terrorised by invading raiders. The city was a sanctuary so the immigrants kept coming, and coming, and coming.

Thamesius was a bustling settlement but it was a grey, cold place. Its cramped damp houses, unevenly cobbled streets, dark stinking alleys and rats the size of cats were just a few of the things which made it unwelcoming. Despite that, the town was growing dramatically, partly because of the thriving commerce but mainly due to the waves of scared Britons who had fled from the surrounding farmlands. This influx of peasants made for a dangerous environment. The locals resented the immigrants, claiming they were stealing their jobs. They refused them shelter, so many of the newcomers lived rough on the streets. There were just too many people and too few houses. This led to a homeless underclass which would do anything to survive. Robberies, beatings and murders were commonplace. These were the streets where Tung had grown up and learnt what few skills he had. Now he was running for his life in those same streets.

As he weaved his way unseen through the throng, he accidentally bumped into a few folk but it went unnoticed in the hustle and bustle. People just didn't bother to look round to see who had bumped them. They were either too lazy, or too scared. After all, a misplaced look could lead to a deadly confrontation in these dangerous streets.

He took the opportunity to punch a few passers-by in the face just to see what would happen. People could disregard a bump but a punch in the mouth was impossible to ignore. The victim assumed he'd been hit by the nearest person and retaliated by thumping him. It escalated from there. So Tung left a trail of brawling strangers in his wake and this made him giggle and encouraged him to do more of the same.

It took a while for Madrick to realise what was happening and when he did he was furious.

"What the hell are you doing? Why are you jeopardising our escape for a silly bit of fun, you idiot?" But before he could chastise Tung any more, he saw one of Mifal's courtiers who'd been a thorn in his side since the first day he'd arrived in the castle. Madrick ripped his hand out of Tung's grip, wound his arm back and landed a massive haymaker square on the courtier's nose. It didn't go well from there. The man somehow reacted quickly enough to get an unbreakable grasp on Madrick's invisible arm.

"Black magic. Demons," screamed the man. He'd no idea what he had hold of but he was damned sure he wasn't going to let it go. Tung's double-handed, invisible rabbit punch to the back of his skull changed his mind. He collapsed as if he'd been poleaxed.

"Run. We need to get out of here. Head for the village," yelled Tung, proud of his work.

"Right behind you, wherever you are," muttered Madrick, not so proud of what he had just done.

Tung moved more swiftly now he'd stopped accosting various unsuspecting souls. He'd had his fun and now he wanted to leave the mayhem he'd caused far behind him as quickly as possible.

He also hoped a bit of speed in his step might warm him up. He was very cold and naked, and it was dull and cloudy rather than bright and sunny. Weather forecasts, eh? Some things are just not to be trusted.

***

King Mifal was furious when he was told of the pandemonium in his dungeon. He ordered that the head jailer be locked up forever for his incompetence, and for murdering the other jailer, he added as an afterthought. He also deliberated long and hard about the crazy scene which his captain had described. He wrongly believed that his people looked to him for divine guidance. He assumed they needed his wisdom to explain the inexplicable. In fact, no one cared about what he thought or said, although no one ever told him that.

Within an hour or so, he'd managed to rationalise the situation. He believed he had solved the puzzle.

He pronounced that Madrick had used magic to turn himself into a black stallion. That explained the robe around the horse's neck and why Madrick was nowhere to be found. Based on that reasoning, he decreed that the horse was to be tortured to death which meant he'd have his vengeance on the wizard who'd refused to do miracles for him. Nobody, particularly Mifal, cared what had happened to Tung so the matter ended there. Everyone was happy except, of course, the horse.

Actually, if the truth be told, which it never was to Mifal, one of the jailers had secretly led the great black stallion out of the prison and kept the magnificent animal for himself. The fabulous beast now grazed in a nearby muddy field surrounded by three adoring mares. So actually, everyone was happy - including the horse.

***

Tung made his way through the main gatehouse and over the drawbridge towards the sprawling town which nestled all around the great stone walls of the castle. He was hit straight away by the difference between the streets inside and outside the ramparts. The smell was the most noticeable distinction. Out here, he could smell the smoke from wood burning fires and the more nauseating smell of a largely unwashed population.

He sneaked past the little wooden houses eyeing each one for signs of danger; in particular, he was worried about dogs. Many residents kept fearsome mongrels trained to protect their properties from intruders. Dogs would pick up his scent and would probably attack him even though he couldn't be seen. What a strange sight that would be and definitely one to be avoided.

Every so often, he whispered to Madrick, just to make sure he was still around.

"Stay close."

"Where are you?"

"Right behind you... I think."

He fumbled blindly for an invisible hand to hold and held on tightly once he found it. Occasionally they'd be bumped apart in the crowded, narrow streets and he'd have to go through the routine of finding Madrick again. He didn't want to lose him; not at this stage anyway.

"I've had an idea," whispered an invisible Madrick. "Let's use spit to stick leaves to our feet. It'll just look as if they're blowing along the ground to passers-by."

"You're a smart old wizard," said Tung, as he licked some leaves and applied them to the soles of his feet. Madrick did the same.

The idea worked perfectly. Now, he could keep an eye on the old man's feet yet no one else noticed. Perfect.

Now he could concentrate properly on scouting for opportunities to steal what they needed. He had a well-practised eye so it wouldn't take him long to find what they needed. Clothes were the first item on his agenda.

"Timing is everything," whispered Madrick. "We can't lift anything if there's anyone around. Garments flying through the air in our invisible hands would definitely attract attention."

"But we can't wait too long," whispered Tung, "or we'll reappear naked in the middle of this town and that would draw even more unwelcome attention."

Naked men running around the streets always got arrested, in Tung's experience, and that was the last thing they wanted; an early return to Mifal's dungeon.

Eventually he spotted the ideal opportunity. He caught sight of a family preparing to leave their house. The people were carrying quite a lot of stuff so it seemed likely they'd be away for some time. In fact, as he got closer, he overheard the family's plans.

"Come on, let's get going," said the man. "What's keeping you, woman? We're going to be late."

"Hold onto your horses," said his wife, "I need to bring food for the baby. There'll be nothing for wee ones at the gathering and he'll raise hell if he gets hungry."

"Just hurry up or I'm going without you."

Perfect. It sounded as if these people were going to be away for a while, so there'd be plenty of time to poke around and find everything he needed for the being-visible world. And he'd reappear, out of sight, in the privacy of this house, where he could dress, cover his indignities and make good his escape.

He timed his move impeccably and snuck inside, pulling Madrick behind him, just before the door was secured. After a little rummaging both men found outfits, of sorts, which looked as though they would fit. They weren't clothes which made a fashion statement, other than 'this person neither knows nor cares about fashion', but they'd do for now. As a bonus, Tung's well-honed thieving senses sniffed out the family's life savings hidden in a jar above the blackened, stone fireplace. He counted his loot while he warmed himself in front of the dying embers of the log fire. It was a decent haul which would keep him going - sorry, them going - for some time. He had to keep reminding himself that he needed Madrick to be content until it was the right time to abandon the old fool.

Meanwhile, Madrick used the seclusion of the dingy kitchen to retrieve the Scroll from its secret place. It was a weird sight, the scroll appearing slowly out of... nowhere. He washed it off in a pot of foul-smelling liquid which was, in fact, bone soup for the family's meagre supper. It smelled so disgusting that the Scroll cleansing might actually improve its aroma, and taste. Surprisingly, the ancient manuscript cleaned up well. Maybe it had been designed for this sort of unusual journey after all, or maybe bone soup was, in fact, an excellent detergent.

With the cleaned parchment in hand, Madrick joined Tung by the fireside. The lad wasn't visible but he could see the stolen coins floating spookily in the air.

"Here's the Scroll, clean as a whistle. It's survived the journey, as have I, thank you for asking."

He handed the Scroll to Tung and told him how he'd cleansed it in the soup.

"It won't do them any harm," said Tung. "I remember eating poo once as part of a bet. I lost the bet. I said I wouldn't eat it."

Invisibility had many advantages, for example, Tung couldn't see the strange look which Madrick gave him.

About half an hour later both men gradually became visible again. It was a weird sensation to see yourself slowly take form but they both felt mighty relieved to be back.

"Nice to see you again, to see you again... nice."

"That would make a good catchphrase for a court jester," said Tung.

They dressed quickly and agreed that their best bet, in the immediate short term, was to get themselves lost in the crowded streets, markets and taverns of the bustling town centre.

"Let's take a little time to relax first. This place seems relatively safe," said Madrick as he threw some more logs on the fire.

They pulled a couple of stools in close and gazed blankly into the hearth, mesmerised as small flames started to encircle the new chunks of firewood.

"What did you actually do to end up in Mifal's dungeon? I never got a chance to ask you. I was so keen to tell you my story so we could escape, I never heard what'd happened to you."

Tung had learnt from an early age never to tell anyone anything about his life or his crimes. Every time he'd ignored that lesson and shared his secrets, bad consequences had followed. Inside his head, good sense arm-wrestled with stupidity and stupidity won hands down, so he disregarded everything he'd learnt and started to tell Madrick the whole story.