Roland's Castle

  Chapter 12

  “Where to now?” asked Oliver.

  “I don’t know anything about anything beyond here, so it’s no good asking me anything,” Botherworth said, “ I s’pose you’ll still be wanting me to come with you though,” he grumbled.

  “I am sure we would all be grateful if you would,” Roland asked, just in case we need rescuing again. Please would you?”

  “Very well, as you ask so nicely,” Botherworth replied, and Roland thought he almost saw a smile on the janitors face.

  The track they were on lasted for several miles and then faded out as the country became more stony and sandy. It was also flatter than before, something for which they were grateful. They continued to follow the direction that the track had been headed until they reached a small hill which they decided to climb to get better bearings. From the top they could see something glinting, far off. It stretched right across the landscape and had the shininess of a sword. They decided to go and see what it was.

  They discovered that the glint was caused by a pair of metal rails, stretching from horizon to horizon. The rails had been nailed into hundreds of wooden cross pieces placed at right angles beneath them,. It was a baffling thing to find in the middle of a wilderness. It was a baffling thing for someone to leave in the middle of a anywhere.

  “What is it?” Oliver asked, “Some sort of boundary marker?”

  “I think it’s a type of road,” Savitri said, “but I have never seen anything like it.”

  “It’s a railway,” Botherworth put in, “It’s for trains to run on. Locomotives pulling carriages or wagons.”

  “What? Explain.” Roland requested.

  “Think of a horse pulling a wagon or carriage – this is a load of wagons or carriages in a train being drawn along by a mechanical horse and guided by these rails…”

  “Sound amazing,” said Roland, “But where are these trains?”

  “Probably late,” Botherworth grunted, “they normally are!”

  “If it’s a type of road whoever built it must have built something at the end of it,” Roland said. The logic seemed inescapable. “We’ll follow it,” he said, stepping into the centre of the track, in-between the rails.

  “I wouldn’t walk on the track,” Botherworth said, “Don’t ever walk on a railway. The trains will come along fast – even if they’re late!”

  Roland stepped off. He now had more respect for Botherworth and his advice.

  “Perhaps someone nice will come along on one of the trains and we can ask them where we should go, and they will be kind enough to tell us,” Goodwill suggested.

  “Or someone nasty, so we can get into more trouble,” Oliver said.

  “Now you’re starting to sound like me,” Botherworth told him.

  “Oh no! I’d better fix that — right away!” Oliver joked.

  They started walking along the track. In a few hours they came upon a long, sweeping bend which seemed to last forever, only to find at the end of it that the rails then started to bend back the other way. It went on like that for while, bending back and forth. As no trains had come along they began to relax and, despite Botherworth’s warning, they all started walking on the track itself rather than beside it. It was easier, once you got the hang of it. All you needed to do was step from one plank on to another and once you got into the rhythm it was easier than walking on the rough ground beside. Only Botherworth refused to do so, and had trouble keeping up because of it.

  They were on a sharp bend with Botherworth now far behind them when they thought they heard him shout something. It was followed immediately by a loud noise, like a cross between a moan and a scream followed by a squealing and hissing sound. . It was like the cry of a beast, but a cry no animal could have made. They turned to see the most incredible sight; a huge metal machine, belching smoke and steam was bearing down upon them.

  “Get out the way!” Roland yelled, and they all scattered off of the tracks as it passed. It consisted of several bits, all borne on wheels and pulled along by the first bit — the bit which was doing all the hissing and puffing. It had come up behind them and passed them — nearly run them down and killed them — in just a few seconds.

  “That, was a train,” said Botherworth, rushing up to them as they picked themselves up.

  “Incredible!” Oliver said, “How fast was that thing going?”

  “About fifty miles per hour, I’d say.”

  “Faster than any horse I’ve ever seen,” Roland said, “And that thing at the front – that was what you call the loco…?”

  “It was a steam engine,” Botherworth said, “Always rather liked them. I wanted to be an engine driver when I was kid, but then steam was withdrawn. Another point where things started to go pear…”

  “There is a driver?” Roland asked, “– as in a human man? Like a driver of a cart?

  “Yeah! Of course! What do you think?”

  “That it was alive and went on its own,” Oliver said.

  “or driven by something like the Spirusses,” Roland said.

  “Oh no,” Botherworth confirmed, Steam locos – human contraption! Beautiful! Give my right arm to have a go on the footplate!”

  “So wherever its going, there are probably men like us,”

  “And maybe women,” Savitri put in.

  “And maybe women too,” Roland added. “Whatever, we now have yet more reasons to continue in this direction.”

  “It could go for miles, that thing,” Oliver said. “We might never catch up with it.

  “Nothing travels for ever. We will walk until we do catch up with it,” Roland said.

  Botherworth grunted once more.

  They walked for a couple more hours, then the track turned into two tracks, then four, then six, and from then on into so many that the adventurers quickly lost count. They were laid side by side, stretching from horizon to horizon.

  As they walked through the sea of rails they heard the sound of singing on the breeze.

  “Who would be singing out here?” Oliver asked.

  The singing grew louder as they got closer, and they saw now that a large group of men were working up ahead, swinging picks over their heads in concert. As the adventurers got closer they could hear the words the men were singing.

  “Drill ye tarriers drill!

  Drill ye tarriers drill

  It’s work all day with no sugar in yer tay!

  On the Lower Plains of the Sky Rail-way!”

  There was a man with a wide brimmed hat watching them work and occasionally bawling instructions at them, “Put yer backs into it, yer lallygaggers! We’d a crossed the Hassayamapa fifty miles back but fer all yer slacking!”

  As they went up to him he turned to them and said, “Best darn crew I ever bossed! All good Irish lads too! it’s a crying shame to see em treading water building sidelines when there’s a road to be built – and all because of them darn bandboxes! Anyways, what can I do for you folks?”

  “We are looking for the Whales Of The Sky, do you know where they are?” Roland said.

  “Whales of the what?” The man asked, and he looked up, “only thing I see in the sky is the sun, and too much of that! Young Mister Brandon Junior might know – that’s his private car on the siding.”

  He pointed to the train that had nearly killed them, which had come to a stop on one of the sidings nearby.

  “Here, I'll take you,” the man said.

  The tail end of the train had a platform with steps up to it, then a door into the inside. On entering they found a room with comfy chairs and a large writing desk at which a man sat, with his back to them. The man with the wide brimmed hat cleared his throat and spoke, “Mr Brandon, there’s some folks here to see you, want to ask you about some whales,”

  The man rose and walked towards them, offering his hand. Roland took it and shook it.

  “My name is Davey Brandon Junior, assistant engineer of this railroad. How can I help you?”

  Rola
nd told him, “We are looking for the Whales Of The Sky, do you know where we could find them?”

  “I heard something about them,” the man said.

  “You did!” Roland said, excited, “Can you tell us more – like where they are?”

  “My father talked about them. He scouted this whole region when planning the railroad - he is the real genius behind it.”

  “Can we ask him?”

  “No,” Brandon said bluntly.

  “If we asked nicely?” Oliver suggested.

  “I doubt it, because you would be asking Count Og-dra-gob. We have tried asking him things nicely before and he doesn’t respond to nice.”

  “Why do we need to ask Count Og-dra-gob in order to speak to your father?” asked Roland, seeking to get to the root of the matter.

  “Now that’s a long story,” said Brandon, “You see, we gotta have water for the locos and the only water for a hundred miles in any direction is on the Count’s land, so we gotta go through it. Only problem is he doesn’t want us going through it. My father went out there to put up a windmill to pump water. They wrecked that by tilting at it. Probably thought it was a giant or something – they’re dumb enough! That was when dad got kidnapped by the count and his knights. That’s why you can’t talk to him, because he is a prisoner in Count Og-dra-gob’s dungeon.”

  “Bandboxes!” Cursed the man with the wide brimmed hat.

  “That’s enough McCann!” Brandon said, “We may as well be civil about our opponents, however much they may frustrate us.”

  “Damn civility is the problem I sez! A few sticks a dynamite would fix ‘em and their flamigigs and we could go on…!”

  “We are not here to fight a war,” said Brandon determinedly, “Even if it’s what they want. We are here to bring sivilisation, not destroy it. We are improving this country and no single man should stand in our way, not just for a load of silly war games – but we’ve got to do things in a civilised way, nonetheless.”

  He said to Roland and friends, “We’ve been building this Railroad since Creation and hope to be finished by Doomsday — or a little before. Two crews set out from the same point headed in opposite directions and will meet up on the opposite side of the world, providing a complete circular route. We have a golden spike already cast for that moment-” and he produced it from his pocket and held it up in front of them. It was well worn, as if he had spent a lifetime or several caressing it. “When we finish this spike will be the buckle in the girdle of the world!” And his eyes gleamed as those of a believer. Then his voice sank and his eyes looked to the floor, “But it looks like we might not finish at all – all because of Count Og-dra-gob and his war games.” And he grasped the spike tightly and looked crestfallen.

  “Oh dear,” said Roland, trying to sympathise.

  “But how does it work, going around the world?” Oliver asked, noticing what he thought was a flaw in the plan, “You started from under the earth, then you go above? – I don’t follow…”

  “The world is round,” said Botherworth, ”It’s a globe, can’t blame you youngsters for not knowing that. Nobody’s discovered it yet!”

  “Round!” exclaimed Oliver, “So-?”

  “-So you starts on one side and gets around to the other. The plains of the sky above the Earth wrap around the Earth. See!”

  “The Earth is round!” said Roland, also amazed.

  “The Earth is round!” said Savitri, amazed also.

  “Well, you learn something new everyday. One of the positive things about life!” Goodwill said.

  “We have to talk to your father,” said Roland, returning to the matter at hand. “if we must ask the count, then ask the count we must.”

  “Good luck to you,” said young Brandon.

  Will you point the way? Roland asked.

  “Just go out the door, follow the direction of the tracks beyond the sidings and keep going that away once you get to the end of ‘em. That’ll take you there.”

  As Young Brandon had said, shortly beyond the place where his train had stopped all the tracks came to an abrupt end. Even the pavement that the tracks were to be laid on halted. All that there was to mark where the railway was planned were a series of pegs and boards, many of which had been pulled out of the ground and scattered about. They had dents in them, suggesting they had been struck with sharp instruments, and with force. More jousting practise, Roland concluded.

  At this point, too, the landscape changed. The desert environment was replaced by a gentle landscape of small, grass covered hills. Trees and shrubs were everywhere and a stream trickled away nearby.

  “Very pleasant,” Oliver noted, “Quite heavenly in fact.”

  “Lovely,” said Botherworth, in a sarcastic tone.

  “How charming,” said Goodwill, “The very kind of enchanted, pastoral landscape where one dreams of knights going about their noble and chivalric deeds…”

  “Look out!” Oliver yelled.

  They all looked out and saw, coming over a hill, four knights riding abreast in tight formation. They were all clad in glittering armour with shields and tabards all decorated in differing, pretty patterns of together with other fancy adornments.

  “Uh-oh! Here comes Essex!” Botherworth said.

  “Looks like trouble,” Oliver said.

  “Oh no! I am sure not!” said Goodwill, “They are gentle knights who I am sure will be most courteous towards us!”

  As Goodwill finished speaking the knights pointed their lances at the adventurers then started to charge as one.

  “Hold your ground,” Roland said, “They are knights and if they are genuinely noble will not harm unarmed people.”

  “And if they aren’t?” Oliver asked.

  “We have swords,” Savitri pointed out.

  “Drop them,” Roland said.

  “I won’t,” Savitri said, pulling her sword out of its scabbard and wielding it.

  “Please, drop it,” Roland repeated, firmly, and drew his own sword and threw it down. “We cannot defeat men on horseback, not four of them with lances.”

  Savitri saw the reason in it and dropped her sword, very reluctantly. Oliver dropped his bow and quiver. Botherworth dropped his broom.

  The knights continued to gallop towards them and the adventurers held their breath. The tips of the lances were within a couple of feet of them when the knights pulled up, sending up a shower of dust.

  “We surrender!” Roland said.

  “Greetings!” said one of the knights, “I am Sir Valiant de Vosper, bendy dancetty argent vert —”

  “— Oh don’t give them all that!” said another of the knights.

  “They are our proper titles upon the tourney field,” the other replied.

  “It’s just a lot of mumbo-jumbo from what I — don’t — understand of it! I don’t know why the count insists upon it — it all sounds so silly!” and he said to the adventurers, “You are now our prisoners to be ransomed, you will come with us to the lists.”

  But no sooner had he spoken than there was a very loud and startling crashing/clanking/leaf-rustling noise from some nearby bushes, accompanied by the fast beat of horses hooves. Four other knights, also riding abreast, with yellow and black shields and tabards, came galloping out and engaged the first group of knights in a melee. They drove forward with their lances, unseating the knight who had first spoken to the adventurers and sending the others scattering. They rode away only to come to a stand and turn, so they were facing the first group of knights. The knight who had been unseated regained his mount and lined up with his fellows. They stared at each other for a few seconds and then both groups charged at the same time and there was a fearful clash of lances against shields, armour and anything else that was unlucky enough to get in the way. After a while of it the second group of knights seemed to have the upper hand. The first group obviously felt so too as they beat a retreat.

  “Thanks for the rescue,” Roland said to the victors as they rode up to him.


  “Rescue! We were fighting over you! you are now our prisoners!”

  “Oh dear,” said Brother Goodwill.

  “Sounds about right,” said Botherworth, dismally.

  Their new captor introduced himself, “I am Sir Nigel le faire, paly bendy, or sable, a bend sinister erminois.”

  And he proceeded to introduce the other knights in similar fashion, giving their names and then lapsing into the same language he had used to describe himself.

  “What’s he saying?” Oliver asked.

  “He is titling each of them by blazoning their escutcheons,” Goodwill explained.

  “What?” Oliver asked.

  “Describing the patterns on their shields,” Roland clarified, “My father taught me some heraldic terminology, before he went away.”

  “Are these the lists they mentioned earlier?” Oliver asked.

  “No,” Roland said, “The lists are the places of refuge in a tournament, where combat is suspended when the competitors are in them.”

  “Indeed they are!” said Sir Nigel le Faire, quarterly or, sable, a bend ermine,

  “You will accompany us there, please.”

  Two of his companions rode around the back of them and lowered their lances at the adventurers, threatening to prod them along in the right direction.

  “Alright! Alright! We’re going!” Botherworth said.

  “Not quite the courteous welcome I was hoping for, or would have expected,” said Goodwill.

  “Seems times have changed since your day,” Oliver said.

  “Seems so. How sad, how very sad…,” Goodwill said, shaking his head sadly.