Chapter 5
Emerging from the oak they were surprised to find that it was morning – a whole night had passed whilst they were in The Tower, although it did not feel like it. It was indeed a strange, strange place that tricked and played with your senses at every turn. In the bright sunshine they all had to blink and let their eyes adjust and it took a few minutes. When it was done the scene that greeted them was one of great beauty. The valley of the stream stretched before them and it the far side was the hill upon which Roland’s castle stood. It looked tranquil, as if it had lasted for many centuries and would last for many more. It was as if nothing in the world could disturb it from that perfect state.
Firebrace quickly scanned the area for hostile forces. Having assured himself they would be safe in the open he spoke: “The Fortressers, as you have seen, had the wisdom to put in a back door to the castle - just in case. This is the very best place from which to view the area surrounding the castle - and the best place from which to attack it! You must all have a good look and get acquainted with the terrain from the enemy’s point of view, then we will walk back to the castle across the fields - I think you know the way!” and he winked at Roland and Oliver. They had both assumed that their night-time excursions were secret and were surprised to find that Firebrace knew of them.
Savitri wandered over to the place where the fire had been, the place where only two days before she had been a captive. She gripped the sword in her hand and swung it around, enjoying the feeling of power it gave her.
They did as Firebrace bid them and studied the landscape. It was farming land and there were plenty of hedges, ditches and sunken lanes - easy places of concealment for an attacking army. It could all have been cleared for strategic purposes, but Roland knew why his forefathers had not done it. There is no sense in destroying the very thing you wish to defend in order to defend it.
They started to make their way down the hill of the Scary Oak. Walking back was quite a pleasure on the warm spring day and they all enjoyed the open air after being in the tower. As they walked they watched the Fortressers already at work on the battlements. Cranes were lifting massive blocks of stone, men in the odd mixture of armour and monks’ habits were climbing up and down ladders with hods full of bricks and mortar. The progress the Fortressers had already made was quite amazing. It gave them all hope and their sprits lightened.
Nearer to the castle they noticed something rather odd – two figures both struggling to conceal themselves behind a very small bush that couldn’t possibly hide one of them, let alone both. As they got yet closer they saw that it was Bobblejob and Jubblebub. Soon they were close enough to overhear what they were saying.
“It has been a long time, hasn’t it? Bobblejob said.
“A very long time,” Jubblebub agreed.
“I bet we’d be much better at finding them than they are at finding us,” Bobblejob giggled.
“Much better,” Jubblebub giggled in response.
“You go and hide and you’ll never find us,” that was what they said.
“That was what they said alright.”
“But I bet we could find them if we wanted to.”
“I’ll bet we could…”
“Oh! They’ve let Dogwood and Dagwood escape!” Roland said, at once feeling great disappointment that his cousins had not kept their word.
Realising that someone was behind them Bobblejob and Jubblebub both turned around.
“What are you doing?” Roland asked.
“Shhhh! We’re hiding!” Bobblejob replied, “The young masters told us to go and hide and they would come and find us. They’ve been looking for ages and haven’t found us yet!
“You imbeciles!” Firebrace said.
“I said to guard them, not play parlour games with them,” Roland said, “Probably good riddance anyway – it won’t tie up any competent men to guard them…” Then he had a naughty idea… He said to Bobblejob and Jubblebub, “I am sure my uncle made you swear an oath of loyalty to him, didn’t he?”
“Oh, yes, very keen on that he was,”
“Very keen.”
“Yes, well, has he released you from it yet?”
Bobblejob and Jubblebub thought for a minute.
“I don’t remember,”
“I don’t either.”
“Trust me, he didn’t. I’m sure,” said Roland, “According to the oath you should have followed him to wherever he went, and you haven’t.”
“No we haven’t,” admitted Bobblejob
“We have not,” agreed Jubblebub
“Then you are in breach of your oath,” Roland said.
They struggled to think about it.
“We are derelict in our duty,” Jubblebub confessed, shamefacedly.
“You can do something about it now – something to redeem yourselves,” Roland said.
“Can we?” Bobblejob asked, looking hopeful.
“Yes, Roland said, “Go and find him – join him. Find where he is and go to serve him.”
“But how do we find him?” Jubblebub asked.
Well, it’s like hide and seek, but for real. What will make it even easier is that Dagarth won’t actually be hiding!”
“He won’t?”
“No, he won’t,” Roland insisted.
“Well, we should find him easily then,” said Bobblejob, “Err… Which way?”
“Anyway away from here will do for a start,” Roland said.
“Rightio!” Said Jubblebub.
“Off you go then!” Roland said.
And they both headed off,
“That got rid of them,” Roland said.
“That was very wicked! Oliver said, as Firebrace chuckled.
“Good riddance Savitri said. We need all the people we can get – but they can do far more damage on the other side.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Roland said.
Once back in the castle they all slept for a long time and once they had woken, and eaten a much welcomed meal, they were astonished at the progress that had been made. The Fortressers were still hard at work but now finishing off the rebuilding of the castle. How they must have worked! Where piles of rubble had stood beside gaping holes the walls now stood firm and robust, looking impregnable – indomitable. The walls were higher than before, the ramparts raised to give steep drops into a moat that looked deeper, darker and much more forbidding than it had previously. Roland looked down into it, then back at the keep and its accompanying buildings. They were the last to receive the Fortressers attention, yet already they looked strong.
“I had forgotten what this place use to look like without holes and rubble,” Roland said to Firebrace.
“It’s a revolution,” Firebrace agreed, “But walls are only part of a castle’s defence. We must be strong as well – and what is more, we must have a plan – and if possible, know theirs!”
Roland thought of the Venerable Conceiver of Strategies, still presumably hard at work. He did not have much faith in a man who needed to be struck around the face with a jester’s bladder just to keep his feet out of the clouds.
“There is little I can do but practise my swordplay,” he said.
“Yes,” Firebrace agreed.
Roland, Oliver and Savitri went to the practice room. They took it in turns to fight the companion whilst the other two practised against each other. Oliver had not used a sword before but started to get the hang of it and Savitri gave him some pointers. She showed herself again to be the most capable and when it was her turn launched a full blooded attack on the companion that caused it to clang like a bell and drew some pity from Oliver.
“The poor thing! What did it do to you?”
“It reminded me of someone!” Savitri said, and made it clang again.
“It is made to resemble the people who killed her family,” Roland said.
“Well, it looks hideous enough to have done something like that. You mean there are things like that running around out there, up to no goo
d?”
Savitri, who overheard, stopped fighting and came over, “Believe it. They are savage. They have no pity, they have no fear, they only desire one thing; to fight and destroy.”
“Sound like the Fortressers, before they got religion,” Oliver said.
“The Spirus will never ‘get religion’,” Savitri said, and continued battling the companion.
“Maybe we ought to make your friend seem a bit more friendly, for his own sake, Oliver suggested to Roland, “Give it a name perhaps? Cutesy wootsey? Tickly wickly? Mr floppikins? We could give it some bunny ears!”
“No,” said Roland firmly, “We are not doing that. Fixing them on might scratch the finish.”
“Okay. I shall just call him Fred, then.”
Oliver grew serious. “Something has been worrying me. What happens to the people in the village – my parents, if there is an attack?”
“We will bring them inside the castle. Perhaps they will even fight with us,” Roland said.
“If they seek the protection of the castle, they should fight to defend it,” Savitri said.
“They can seek safety unconditionally. We will not make them fight if they don’t want to,” Roland said firmly. “You had better go and tell them Oliver – it would be better now than later on. We don’t know when hostile forces might get here.”
When the villagers had been brought into the courtyard Roland stood before them with Oliver and Firebrace at his side. He told them, “The people who are coming to attack this castle are also coming to attack your homes. Dagarth was a tyrant, as you know, and the people with him are no better. Who wishes to fight with us?”
There was an encouragingly strong show of hands for the idea.
“But what can they do?” Roland asked Oliver.
“Same as me,” Oliver said
Roland looked puzzled. “You are no swordsman!”
“I can't use a sword, no, but try me with a bow!”
You never told me this!”
“Never came up. I am amongst the best in the village – and we won the area tournament three years running. We are the best archers in this part of the country – probably the whole country!”
The villagers had brought with them several chests which were now unpacked. An enormous number of bows, a ton of arrows and some cork targets were broken out. Roland noted that the bullseye’s of the targets were marked by a lot of holes. The outside rings had only a few point marks in them.
“We all have to start somewhere,” Oliver explained.
The villagers put on quite a display of their archery skills. For the first time Roland was actually beginning to think they stood a serious chance of winning a battle.
“Did you know the villagers were fine archers?” he asked Firebrace.
“Your forefathers encouraged the villagers!” Firebrace replied, “But they are naturals anyway. They would have found their way to this by themselves, I think.”
“It is all well done,” Roland said, “Now all we need is a strategy.”
At that moment there was a kerfuffle at the base of the tower and they turned to see that the Venerable Conceiver Of Strategies was rushing towards them along with his fool, who continued to beat his face with the pig’s bladder. As they got closer the fool reminded him, “Nuncle! thou needs to think of castles and not of clouds!”
Roland’s heart sank at the sight of them. To think they were to put their trust in such a man. He felt despondent once more.
“I have worked out a strategy” said the Venerable Conceiver Of Strategies.
“Err, yeah, that’s what you’re here for,” Roland said, doubtfully
But the fool took his masters cause, “It is a marvel wonderfully conceived and the more so for it is wonderfully conceived by a fool!” The fool said, and beat the cogitator about the face with the pig’s bladder for no other reason than the sheer joy of it
Roland, Firebrace, Oliver and Savitri gathered around one of the archery chests. The Venerable Conceiver Of Strategies unrolled his map on the top of it and explained his plan; “Here is the castle, newly repaired, and the moat running around it. Here is the hill nearby with what you young folk call The Scary Oak upon it. This is where the enemy will most likely gather, if they have any sense at all. Here is the valley they will have to cross to reach us, here are some trees, a lovely stream… it really is the most perfect view of an idyllic little spot, is it not?! Lovely!”
“Nuncle!” said the fool, beating him again with the pig’s bladder.
“Ah yes, the point, the point. Here, see, the stream feeds a pond, this feeds the moat here – the moat lets out into the stream here. It really is most tranquil isn’t it? You could set up a rod and line and dream away listening to the birds singing and the wind in the willows, the Piper at the Gates of….”
“Nuncle!”
“Yes! Yes! I come to it. Here between the pond and the moat, and the moat and the stream, are sluice gates, holding back the water…”
“I get it!” Roland said, “Any army must cross the moat, by rafts or boats…”
“And if we open both sluices at once, the moat becomes a fast flowing stream! The Venerable Conceiver Of Strategies said, triumphantly, and the fool jumped and did some cartwheels and handstands for the sheer joy of it.”
The strategist continued, “The attacking army will be in disarray, and will float past our battements…”
“And we can position archers at specific points to shoot them as they pass, concentrating their fire at specific points” Roland said, finishing the strategists thought.
If we have any archers, the strategist said, seeing the flaw in his plan.
“That we do!” Roland said, “We do indeed!”
The cogitator brightened again, “Wonderful! Wonderful! It would be such a shame to see this idyllic little spot fall into the wrong hands. We must defend it! Will you? Will you?” And he grasped Roland’s arm and looked at him pleadingly.
“We will,” Roland said, “We will.”
And a cheer went up that rang around the castle.
By the next morning Dagarth’s army had assembled itself upon the hill of The Scary Oak. It stretched all across the hill and far on both sides. It’s forces were much expanded by those of Brill-a-Brag. The castle sentries had reported movement in the night, the alarm had gone out and the drawbridge raised. In the dawn light Roland looked out the enemy forces with dismay, but Firebrace put a hand on his shoulder.
“It is the beginning, not the end.”
Soon after a shout went around the castle, “Enemy forces approaching!”
Roland and his friends ran to the battlements by the drawbridge where the shout had originated. All they could see were two figures, plainly dressed as men-at-arms, making their way up the road.
“Why only two?” Oliver asked, “It isn’t much of a fighting force.”
It did seem very odd.
As they got closer Roland recognised them. It was Bobblejob and Jubblebub!
They marched up to the edge of the moat where the drawbridge usually met the road and stopped and stood looking puzzled, as if they didn’t couldn’t work out what had changed. When they saw that people were watching them from the battlements they started waving hopefully.
“What are they doing back?” Roland asked. “Whatever it is they’ll get themselves hurt out there - send a boat across for them.”
Having landed at the gate house the two gave what passed for an explanation of their renewed presence.
“It was very confusing,” Bobblejob said.
“Very confusing,” Jubblebub agreed.
“We couldn’t find your uncle anywhere.”
I think he’s up there’ Roland said, pointing to the obvious armed ranks on the hill
“Ah! that’s where he is!” Jubblebub said.
“But how do you get there?” Bobblejob asked.
“We think our mistake was starting from here in the first place,” Jubblebub said, and they both nodded
.
“How did you find your way back?” Roland asked, slightly puzzled.
The two looked at each other
“Well, we tried to get there….”
— “…and ended up back here.”
“You lost your way back!!!!”
“Yes.”
“Well, we can’t leave you two just wandering about. This is a war. You might get hurt. I’ll draw you a plan of how to get to the Scary Oak.”
Roland ordered some parchment and a quill be brought and set about drawing them a map.
“There you are – can you follow that?”
“It looks just like the back of my hand,” said Bobblejob, comparing them.
“Yes, well, just go careful….” And with that they were rowed back across to the other side of the moat and sent on their way.
With the idiot pair sent off again Roland and company returned to planning the castles defence, but it was not long before another shout of “enemy approaching” went around.
“They’re not back again are they?” Roland cursed, but this time it was not for Bobblejob and Jubblebub but a solitary rider coming across the fields from the hill. They went back up to the battlements and soon the rider was close enough for them to recognise him as Dagarth's Herald. He stopped at the far edge of the moat and seeing that he had the attention of those in the castle, called out, “My lord Dagarth most generously offers a pardon in exchange for the surrender of this castle, it being rightly his and villainously taken from him. He is willing to overlook the whole thing if you just give it back.”
Roland took a breath to say ‘no, never’ in robust terms but Firebrace put his hand on his arm.
“We could still do with time to prepare. We are not quite ready yet. Let’s see if they will negotiate, just for the sake of time,”
Roland agreed, and shouted to the herald, “We have some conditions.”
“Let us hear them!” The herald said.
“What shall we say?” Roland asked the others. They huddled together.
“Ask them for time to think about it.” Oliver suggested.
“No. They might get the right idea,” Roland objected. “We need some conditions they will need to think about.”
“What about insisting your auntie goes on a diet,” Oliver suggested, “you could insist she goes on the Holy Healthy Hermit Plan.”
“What’s that?”
“The latest diet book. The monasteries can’t copy enough of them. It was written by this batty old nun who lives on like two walnuts and a blackberry a day. She celebrates Easter with the yolk of a hardboiled egg and gives up shaving for lent.”
“sounds awful,” Roland said, “I am sure auntie Hildegrind will love it – particularly the not-shaving bit. On that theme, let’s insist the rest of them suffer... , I think that Dogwood and Dagwood should be spanked once a week. And Dagarth should be forced to melt down his iron maidens and sell the metal for scrap to help the poor!”
“Yes, and the rack converted to a table so they can eat a hearty meal off of it!” Oliver added.
“And that ghastly throne broken up too,” Roland said, “Let’s tell the herald.”
The herald’s attention was called and the conditions read out. To their delight He shifted in his saddle rather uncomfortably, particularly at the suggestion regarding the torture equipment. He knew for sure the reception that that was going to get. He was sent on his way.
They expected there be some discussion in the enemy camp but the herald was soon back, and with some alternative proposals:
Auntie Hildegrind will go on a diet and will lose a stone before Michaelmas.
Dogwood and Dagwood to be spanked twice a month.
Half the iron maidens to be melted down and the scrap sold to feed the poor
The rack to be put in storage in case it is needed in the future
The throne to stay
“Hmmm,” said Roland. “Why didn't he just accept our proposals right off? He doesn’t have to keep to them once he’s back in. It wouldn’t be like him to.”
“Perhaps he is playing for time too,” Oliver said.
“It’s Pride,” Firebrace said, “Pride. He doesn’t want to be seen to be backing down too far, even if he has no intention of keeping his word...”
“Well, it’s not good enough,” Roland said. “The throne has to go – that is non-negotiable.”
He told the herald: “We want the rack broken up and used as firewood and Dogwood and Dagwood to be spanked with planks from it four times a month. And auntie Hildegrind must lose three stone by Christmas. The throne must, repeat must, be thrown out!”
“That told him,” said Oliver, as the herald galloped away.
This time there was a longer pause, but sure enough a rider approached the castle from the direction of the hill. As he got closer they could see it was not the herald, and he was riding rather oddly, partly standing in his stirrups. When he got closer still they could see it was Dagarth himself. His saddle was padded but he could only sit on it for a few seconds at a time before he rose again with a pained look on his face.
“He s still got a sore bum from the lightning strike!” Roland and Oliver snickered. “Yes! Yes!” they cried, “Crucial!” and they high-fived.
“Now look here!” Dagarth yelled at the walls, “This has gone on long enough! I am the rightful master and heir of this castle by right of birth and I demand that you allow myself and my retinue back in! You are foul usurpers and traitors and if you do not let me back in,” - and he started to think about what he was saying – “well, I shall probably not be very happy about it at first but I shall swallow that and, well, I am sure I can get over it and we can all be friends just like it used to be…”
Oh yes, Roland thought – just like it used to be. He turned to Firebrace, “Whilst he’s here waiting for a reply there’s not much the army up there can do – we might as well leave him waiting out there for as long as possible.”
Firebrace nodded. “Well reasoned.”
“It’ll certainly wind him up,” Oliver said.
“We're going to be fighting him anyway – he’s going to get a lot more wound up,” Roland said.
So Dagarth was left waiting for reply like a wet dog out in the rain whilst Roland and his friends went inside to discuss their response to Dagarth’s counter-offer.
“Lets stick to what we have already said,” said Oliver.
“We must give in to some points, otherwise he will not feel like he is making progress and just attack,” Roland said.
We also have to be careful he doesn’t accept, then he will have called our bluff,” Oliver pointed out.
“Good point,” Roland responded, “Lets see; the twins to be spanked – how many times did we get up to? Auntie Hildegrind to cut down on the fatty foods….”
“Auntie Aitch must be publicly weighed every month!” Oliver chipped in.
“Every week,” Roland insisted.
“And ducked in the moat if she hasn’t lost weight!” Oliver put in.
“Good!” Roland said, and added, “We must insist that all the cushions are removed from the chairs in the castle!
“And sandpaper for Dagarth to wipe his bum with in the privy!”
“Oh, now you’re just winding him up!” Roland laughed, and he and Oliver both high fived.
Suddenly Savitri burst out shouting, “Will you two stop being so childish! If Bril-a-Brag and Gloatenglorp take over this castle you won’t think it so funny! They are experts at inflicting pain and misery and they are out there now with an army! We need to be serious!” She spoke directly to Roland, “And you, boy, need to toughen up if you are going to command the defence of this castle,” and she jabbed him in the ribs with her fingers.
“Sorry,” Roland said, taken aback by the outburst.
“And stop saying you’re sorry! Make them say they are sorry!” Savitri scolded.
When Roland looked at Firebrace he could tell he thought she was right. Firebr
ace was more patient, he was not angry at their pranks, but he too obviously thought they needed to take it more seriously. He said, “The very fact that Dagarth has come himself means that they are growing very impatient – already.”
“He always was impatient,” Roland pointed out
“Yes, and he has only grown more so,” Firebrace replied, “I don’t think anything we say will put off the evil moment much longer, but I have an idea that might just leave them squabbling with each other for a few more hours whilst we put the final touches to our defences…”
Back on the ramparts Roland attracted Dagarth’s attention and called out their latest condition. “We will only surrender in the presence of a neutral third party to ensure fair play. We nominate the Abbott of Wilmesbury.”
“The Abbot of Wilmesbury!” Dagarth spluttered, “that’s over fifty miles away!”
“And the Abbot’s further than that,” Firebrace whispered – “I happen to know he’s on pilgrimage to the Holy Land!”
“Them’s our terms!” Roland called out, “We want to ensure there are no dirty tricks.”
“Dirty tricks! Who do you think I am!!!!?????” Dagarth spluttered.
“My Uncle Dagarth!” Roland shouted back.
“Ach!” Dagarth exclaimed, and rode off in a right old huff.
It was barely an hour or little more when once more there were cries of “enemies sighted,” and the familiar experience of everyone doubling to battle stations.
The cry had come from sentries at the gatehouse, again, and Roland and his friends rushed to see who or what it as this time. Soon enough it became clear – Bobblejob and Jubblebub were making their way back to the castle.
“They must have lost their way all over again!” Roland said, “What are we going to do with them?”
Once more the hapless pair stood on the edge of the moat waving mournfully at the castle. Once more a boat was sent over for them.
“What are you doing back this time?” Roland asked.
“They didn’t want us,” Bobblejob said proudly.
“They said we woz too good for ‘em!” Jubblebub said, even more proudly
“Too good for ‘em we are!” said Jubblebub, even more proudly that Bobblejob.
“They said we should come to you!” Bobblejob said
“You really deserve us, they said,” Jubblebub said.
“And they drew you a map as well, I see,” said Roland, noting a different map from the one he had drawn in Bobblejob's hand.
“Errrr, no sir,” Bobblejob said, and they both looked shamefaced. “Your map was to get us from here to there,” he explained.
“We needed one to get us from there to here,” Jubblebub explained further.
“We overheard them say this map would get them into the castle, so we took it when they weren’t looking,” Bobblejob confessed.
“It wasn’t stealing,” Jubblebub insisted, “We just borrowed it for a bit.”
“We’ll go back right now and return it to them if you want,” Bobblejob said.
“Let’s have a look at that map,” said Firebrace and took it from Bobblejob’s hand. “Are you sure they didn’t give this to you – you took it?”
“I wish we could say they did give it us sir, but I am ashamed to say we just took it! We just took it sir, and should be severely punished for doing so!”
“You took it without them knowing, or showing it to you?” Firebrace pressed.
“Without them knowing or showing it to us,” said Bobblejob, shamefully.
Firebrace turned to Roland, “It’s a complete battle plan for a siege on this castle where they are going to cross the moat, locations of trebuchets, the lot!”
“Really?” Roland said, looking at it himself.
“I am not sure we should trust it though. It has come to us rather to easily,” Firebrace cautioned.
“Would you trust these two to deliver false intelligence?” Roland asked.
“No,” said Firebrace.
“I think we have an advantage,” Roland said.