Swashbuckling Fantasy

  Arthur pressed his back against the door.

  The shop.

  Chapter 5

  Here Be Monsters!

  It framed a boxtroll.

  Arthur found himself standing in total darkness. The overwhelming relief at having got away from Snatcher and his hounds was mixed with the awful fear that he might have been dragged into something even worse. Who or what had pulled him through that door and why? A soft gurgling noise came from somewhere behind him. He turned round toward it and trod on something. There was a squeak, a scuffling of feet, and the sound of a doorknob being turned. Light broke in as a door opened. It framed a boxtroll, its smiling head protruding from its large cardboard box.

  Arthur had seen boxtrolls before, underground. He had occasionally come across them as he explored the dark passages, caverns, and tunnels. Boxtrolls were timid creatures and always scuttled away as soon as they noticed his presence. Arthur had heard that boxtrolls loved everything mechanical, and he’d seen their work everywhere underground—draining the passages and shoring up the tunnels and caves. This was the first time Arthur had seen one close at hand, and it now stood smiling and beckoning to him.

  Arthur walked toward it hesitantly. The boxtroll turned and scampered up a huge heap of nuts and bolts that covered the floor of the room ahead. As it reached the top, it stopped and picked up a handful of the nuts and bolts. Arthur stared as it lifted them to its mouth and kissed them. It then sprinkled them back over the heap and grinned.

  Then, beckoning to Arthur again, the boxtroll turned and scuttled out of the doorway on the other side of the room. Arthur clambered over the heap and followed it into a small hallway. Ahead of them was a paneled door. The top panels were made of glass, and through them a warm yellow light shone. The boxtroll knocked on the door.

  “Come on in, Fish!” a muffled voice replied.

  The boxtroll turned again to Arthur and smiled. Then it opened the door, walked a few steps into the room, and cleared its throat.

  The boxtroll turned again to Arthur and smiled.

  “Well, what is it, Fish? What treasures have you brought to show us this evening?” a man’s voice said from somewhere inside the room. “Come on then, let’s have a look!”

  The boxtroll reached back. It took Arthur’s hand and led him into the room.

  The old man sat in a high-backed, leather armchair.

  Arthur’s jaw fell open. From among the cages, tanks, boxes, old sofas, clocks, brass bedstead, piles of straw, heaps of books, and who knew what else, stared four pairs of eyes. There were two more boxtrolls sitting on a shelf, a small man with a cabbage tied to the top of his head, and an old man. The old man sat in a high-backed, leather armchair. He was wearing half-glasses and a gray wig and was smiling at Arthur.

  “Hello. Who do we have here?” the old man inquired in a gentle voice.

  Arthur blinked. The old man waited patiently.

  “I’m Arthur!” he finally said.

  “Well, Arthur, are you a friend of Fish’s?” the old man asked.

  Two other boxtrolls made spluttering noises. The boxtroll holding Arthur’s hand turned to him, squeezed his hand, and made a happy gurgling sound.

  “Yes,” said the old man, “I think you are!” He looked sternly at the two boxtrolls on the shelf. “And Shoe and Egg should know better than to snigger at Fish!” The two boxtrolls fell silent, their faces turning bright red.

  The two boxtrolls fell silent, their faces turning bright red.

  Arthur looked around the room. It was packed to overflowing. If you took a junk shop, added the contents of a small zoo, then threw all your household possessions on top, it would start to give you an idea of what it was like. It smelled a little of compost. But it was warm and quiet, everyone looked friendly, and, best of all, there were no hounds snapping at him.

  He had no idea where he was, but he did know that he felt safe. Safe enough to ask a question himself.

  “Please, sir, may I ask you who you are?” asked Arthur.

  “Certainly, young man!” The old man grinned. “I am Willbury Nibble, Queen’s Counsel…Retired! I was a lawyer, but now I live here with my companions.”

  Arthur looked about. “What is this place?”

  “Oh, this was once a pet shop, but now I rent it to live in. And these are my friends,” Willbury said, looking around at the creatures. “You have met Fish already it would seem, and these two reprobates”—he nodded at the other boxtrolls—“are Shoe and Egg.”

  The boxtrolls on the shelf smiled at Arthur. Then the old man turned to the last creature—the little man with the cabbage on his head. “And this is Titus. He is a cabbagehead.”

  The cabbagehead scurried behind the old man’s chair.

  “I am afraid he is rather nervous. He’ll get used to you, though, and then you will find him charming.”

  I am afraid he is rather nervous.

  A cabbagehead! Grandfather had told Arthur stories about cabbageheads. Legend had it that they lived in the caverns deep underground. It was said that they grew strange vegetables there and worshiped cabbages. This had something to do with why they tied cabbages to their heads. Even Grandfather had not seen a cabbagehead, they were so shy.

  They lived in the caverns deep underground.

  Arthur thought for a moment, then asked, “Your friends are all underlings, so, well, why do they live with you?”

  Willbury smiled with bemusement. “What do you know about underlings, Arthur?”

  “I know that the boxtrolls look after the tunnels and plumbing underground. But I don’t know much about cabbageheads,” Arthur admitted.

  “Well, I am not sure I entirely approve, but our boxtroll friends here act as scouts.” Willbury gave the boxtrolls a funny look.

  “Scouts?” asked Arthur.

  “Yes. It would seem that the boxtrolls have a need for certain supplies to help with their maintenance of the Underworld. So Fish, Shoe, and Egg wander the town looking for…‘supplies.’ When they find them, they ‘prepare’ the item for removal—loosen it, unbolt it, unscrew it, whatever. That’s why there is such a large heap of nuts and bolts in the back room. God help me if I am ever visited by the police.”

  “They ‘prepare’ the item for removal.”

  He looked rather severely at the boxtrolls, then resumed speaking. “They leave signs for the other boxtrolls. You may have seen strange chalk marks on the walls about town. These are there to guide the other boxtrolls to the supplies so they can make a quick getaway.”

  A quick getaway.

  Arthur looked at Fish, who grinned and nodded.

  “Well!” said Willbury, rather sternly. “I don’t think I approve at all. Our friends the boxtrolls have a rather strange attitude toward ownership. Have you not noticed that most of your arrows point at someone else’s property?”

  The boxtrolls looked rather guilty. Arthur felt a little guilty himself remembering the bananas he had left on top of the Cheese Hall. He decided it’d be safer to change the subject. “And your friend Titus?”

  Willbury beamed. “He is researching gardening. The cabbageheads are always trying to improve their methods of cultivation. So occasionally one of them spends some time up here studying human gardening methods. Egg and Shoe discovered him one night sleeping in a coalbunker and brought him back. He’s been here for a few weeks writing up a report. When he’s finished, he’ll go back to the Underworld.”

  Willbury looked behind his chair and said coaxingly, “Titus, I think our new friend might like to see your report if you would like to show it to him.”

  The cabbagehead shot from behind Willbury’s chair to a barrel that stood in one corner of the shop. There was a hole cut in its side just big enough for Titus to clamber through. He disappeared and re-emerged carrying something. He ran back and hid behind the chair. A hand offering a small green notebook appeared.

  Willbury took the notebook and opened it. Arthur leaned over to look. The pages were covered with tiny writi
ng and the most beautiful drawings of plants.

  A squeak came from behind the chair. Willbury closed the notebook, winked at Arthur, and passed it over his shoulder to an outstretched hand. The notebook disappeared.

  The pages were covered with tiny writing and drawings.

  “Now, Arthur, please sit down if you wish.” Willbury lifted his feet from a footstool and pushed it toward Arthur. “So what brings you here?” he asked.

  Arthur suddenly felt overwhelmed. He sat. He didn’t know where to begin. Fish came forward and started talking. “Hummif gommmong shoegger tooff!!!”

  Arthur suddenly felt overwhelmed.

  “I think it would be better if Arthur himself explained what’s happened, Fish,” said Willbury. He smiled encouragingly at Arthur. “Are you in trouble?”

  “Yes,” whispered Arthur. There was a pause.

  “Well, let’s hear what kind of trouble it is. We’ll try to help you if we can. I have spent my whole life sorting out trouble for other people,” said Willbury.

  Arthur hesitated, then decided he could trust Willbury. “Yes, I am in trouble. They’ve blocked my hole back. It’s the only way I know to get home. And they have taken my wings!” Speaking the words aloud made Arthur realize fully what a terrible situation he was in.

  “All right,” said Willbury, leaning forward, looking both confused and concerned. “I think you better tell me the full story.”

  Arthur started. “I’m from the underground…well, I have lived there since I was a baby.”

  Willbury looked curious. “Underground?”

  “Yes. Me and my grandfather live in a cave…well, three caves, actually. One we use as a living room and kitchen, another is Grandfather’s bedroom and workshop, and the smallest is mine. It’s my bedroom.” Arthur looked around the shop. “It’s warm and cozy, a bit like this place.”

  “Well, three caves, actually.”

  “But why do you live underground?” Willbury asked in a puzzled voice.

  Arthur paused for a few moments. “I’m…I’m not really sure. Grandfather always tells me he’ll explain when I’m older.”

  “And what about your parents?”

  Arthur looked sad. “I don’t know…. I am a ‘foundling,’ I think.”

  “But your grandfather?”

  “Oh…he’s not my real grandfather; he just found me abandoned on the steps of the poorhouse, when I was a baby, and took me to live with him. He’s raised me like he is my father, but because he’s so much older than my father would be, I call him ‘Grandfather.’”

  “So, has he always lived underground?”

  Arthur thought for a moment. “No, he said he lived in the town when he was younger. But he doesn’t talk about it….”

  Willbury seemed to realize he was upsetting the boy with so many personal questions, so he asked next: “You say ‘they’ have blocked your hole back to the underground and taken your wings? Who are ‘they’?”

  Arthur grew instantly animated. “I saw these men hunting cheese and I went to have a look, but my wings broke and the hunters took them, and then I escaped and was trying to get back down underground when they blocked up my hole.”

  “But what were you doing aboveground? And what wings? I don’t understand,” said Willbury.

  Arthur decided to tell Willbury all. “I was gathering food.” His face grew red, but he continued. “It’s the only way we can survive. My grandfather is so frail now that I have to do it. And he made me some wings so I could get about the town easily.”

  “Your grandfather made you wings?”

  “Yes, he can make anything. He made my doll as well so I could talk to him from anywhere.” Arthur reached inside his under-suit and pulled out the doll to show Willbury.

  Willbury’s eyes grew wide. “Do you mean to say that you can talk with your grandfather, using this doll?”

  “Yes,” said Arthur.

  “Does it still work?” asked Willbury.

  “Yes…I think so.” Arthur looked at the doll closely—it didn’t look damaged in any way.

  Arthur looked at the doll closely.

  “When did you last speak to your grandfather?”

  “An hour or so ago, when I was sitting on top of the Cheese Hall.”

  “On top of—oh, never mind. Does he know what’s happened to you or where you are?”

  “No…,” said Arthur.

  “Well, I suggest you speak to your grandfather right now to let him know you are all right and that you are here,” Willbury insisted. All the eyes in the room fixed on Arthur and the doll. “I should like to talk to him also, if I may?” he added.

  Arthur nodded. He wound the tiny handle on the box on the front of the doll. There was a gentle crackling noise, and then grandfather’s voice broke through.

  “Arthur, Arthur, are you out there?”

  “Yes! Yes! It’s me! Grandfather, it’s me! Arthur!” Arthur yelped. It was such a relief to hear his voice.

  “Arthur! Where are you? I’ve been so worried. Are you all right?” Grandfather’s voice sounded shaky.

  “I followed the cheese hunt like you told me to. I did try to be careful, Grandfather, but the huntsmen tried to catch me. They took my wings! And sealed up the drain! But I’ve escaped and found a safe place…and someone who can help me!” Arthur reassured him. “I’m in an old shop, with a man called Willbury. He wants to speak to you.”

  “Certainly—please pass the doll to him,” Grandfather told Arthur. Arthur gave the doll to Willbury, who had been looking at it a little uneasily. Willbury cleared his throat.

  “Good evening, sir.”

  “Good evening, sir. This is Willbury Nibble speaking. I have Arthur with me in my home. I haven’t heard the full story, but it sounds as if he has had a terrible time. I would just like to say that you have my word, as a gentleman, that while your grandson is in my charge, I shall do all within my power to keep him safe. I shall also endeavor to help him return to you as soon as may be!”

  “Thank you, Mr. Nibble!” replied Grandfather. “If you could help Arthur get back to me safely, I would be very grateful!”

  Arthur moved closer to the doll. “Grandfather, how am I going to get back now that the huntsmen have blocked up the drain?”

  For a moment there was just a gentle hissing and crackling from the doll; then they heard Grandfather’s voice again. “I know there are other routes between the town and the Underworld. But I don’t know where they are. They belong to other creatures.” There was a mixture of frustration and worry in his voice, and Arthur grew even more glum—he hated to cause his grandfather worry.

  “Sir,” replied Willbury, “I have a number of boxtrolls and a cabbagehead living with me. They may know of a way!” He looked around and was met by nodding heads. Even Titus had come out of hiding and was nodding.

  “Yes! It seems they do,” Willbury said. “I will have them guide Arthur back to you!”

  “Thank you!” came the voice from the doll.

  Arthur looked at the creatures gratefully. Of course—it was such a simple answer. He needn’t have been so worried. Then Willbury spoke again.

  “I think it might be a bit risky with these blackguards who chased Arthur roaming about. I suggest we wait till early tomorrow morning, then Fish and the others can find Arthur a hole.”

  “I agree, Mr. Nibble. I think Arthur has had enough excitement for one evening.” Then Grandfather paused for a moment. “Getting Arthur back is my first concern. But I am worried about his wings. Without them, he won’t be able to collect food for us safely….”

  “I understand your concern, sir. I am not sure where they are or how we might get them back, but I will think on it. Do you have enough food for the moment?” asked Willbury.

  “Yes, I have several large clumps of rhubarb growing under the bed,” said Grandfather.

  “I have several large clumps of rhubarb.”

  “Good. We’ll give Arthur a good supper, and there is plenty of space for him t
o sleep here.”

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Nibble. And, Arthur, look after yourself…. I need you back!” said Grandfather.

  “I will, Grandfather. Good night.”

  “Good night, Arthur, and I shall see you in the morning.”

  The doll fell silent, and Arthur took it back from Willbury. He kissed it and tucked it back in his under-suit.

  “Why don’t we have a little something to eat, and Arthur can finish telling us his story,” Willbury suggested, looking at Arthur. Then, turning to Titus, he said, “Titus, get the big forks!”

  A huge smile shot across Titus’s face, and he disappeared back inside the barrel for a moment. He returned, carrying massive three-foot forks. Willbury leaned down and Titus whispered in his ear.

  “Yes, Titus! Go and get the buns…and the cocoa bucket,” Willbury said.

  Titus bounded out of the door at the back of the shop and returned carrying a huge plate of buns and a large zinc-plated bucket full of cocoa. He set them by the fire, and the other creatures, Willbury, and Arthur gathered around him. Willbury hung the bucket on a hook over the fire, and after a few minutes it was slowly bubbling. Everybody took a fork and started to toast the buns. When the buns were crisp, they dipped them in the cocoa before eating them.

  Arthur finished his story as they ate. He told of how he would come up every night to gather food, usually from trash bins from behind stores and restaurants. Grandfather said it was shocking, the food people threw away! But because when Arthur came up today and realized it was a Sunday, he had to go “gardening.” Then, rather shamefacedly, he told of his raid on the greenhouse and how he had been struck by the woman; of his flight to the Cheese Hall and how he had seen the hunt and had tried to spy on them; then of all that had followed.