Chapter 7
Waiting is a cruel and relentless purpose, it saps the strength and addles the mind.
The defenders waited, and they waited. They had not expected Dagarth and his allies to return upon the instant but the waiting turned into a week, then a month. Each day they were tormented by the thought and fear of the next attack. One day a rider was spotted on the horizon with a spy glass. He stayed for an hour or so, making observations, then rode away. The defenders waited again.
Weeks later, one anticipated and much feared day, an army was back on the hill of the Scary Oak. Roland and his comrades looked out to see that it was much larger than the last time. Dagarth had found new allies. At first it was not clear who they were but scouts were sent out to spy from as near as they could get; they reported back with grim news. All of the new allies wore black armour they never seemed to take it off. They also had strange eyes, red and glowing.
Roland knew what it meant. The Spirus had arrived. Savitri heard the news too and reacted with silence. She flew into a fury, drawing her sword and hacking at anything in range.
Firebrace said to Roland, “Your uncle has chosen the wrong allies. They may defeat us, but whatever happens, your uncle will lose.”
It did not cheer Roland up much. He wanted his uncle defeated by his own hand. He looked at the hill where the enemy was gathered and remembered his resolution of a few weeks ago.
“We must find out what they are planning,” he said, “When Bobblejob and Jubblebub brought those plans back it gave us an advantage. “
“Yes it did,” Firebrace agreed, “but maybe not a crucial one. We might have won without it, with the cogitator’s plan.”
“Which we will not have as a surprise this time, making knowledge of their plans more important than ever. We must know what they are planning.”
“How?” Oliver asked, “are you planning on just going into their camp and asking them? Or perhaps just strolling in and nosing around?”
“It s not a bad idea.”
“I hope you’re kidding,” Oliver said.
“Look, the Scary Oak is a route right into there camp – we sneak in during the night, find out where they are hiding any plans, grab them and sneak out.”
“Then they will know they are missing,” Oliver objected.
“They didn’t notice that the plans Bobblejob and Jubblebub took were missing. “
“They probably did, it’s just that then they were so over-confident they didn’t care. Now things have changed. They are going to be more careful.”
“Then we have to be more careful and better prepared too.”
Oliver knew from experience that there was no talking Roland out of it, so he might as well try to be helpful. “How exactly are you going to get in there?” he asked.
“It would help very much to have some sort of disguise….”
“What?”
“A suit of armour.”
“You would have to lift up the visor at some stage, and they would see who you are.”
“The Spirus never lift their visors,” Savitri said. “Behind them there is only cold fire and hatred.”
“There we are! I disguise myself as one of those - go in at night.” Roland said.
“They are also tall,” Savitri pointed out, “You are too short to pass as one.”
“I shall walk on stilts. Now all we need is a suit of armour like the Spirus wear.”
“Well, we have one of those,” Oliver sighed resignedly, seeing where Roland was going with it.
“Precisely –– we dismantle Fred and use his armour!”
Then Firebrace spoke with anger: “I will have nothing to do with it; it is a foolish and dangerous enterprise.” And with that he left.
“was that a no?” Oliver asked.
“We will continue,” Roland said.
If Fred had really been alive he would have been surprised to be grabbed by both Roland and Oliver at once, but he did not flinch. The fact that he was about to be dismantled should have worried him, but it didn’t seem to. Oliver held the top of his right arm whilst Roland tugged at the fingers of the gauntlet, curious as to what was inside it. That, it turned out, was nothing. Nothing at all. Just thin air. Roland waved his hand through it. There was nothing there. They pulled off the rest of the arm’s armour to find the same amount of nothing. They removed the helmet to find yet more of the same. They looked inside it and found empty space.
“He’s brainless!” Oliver quipped.
The left arm and the legs came off and they too were empty. Finally they uncoupled the breast plate from the back plate. There, inside, was a glowing ball, little bigger than a plum. It floated around and seemed to want to escape. Roland cautiously caught hold of it, found it was very hot and let it go again with an “Ow!”
They found a small wooden chest and Roland, this time with his hand in a gauntlet, picked up the small ball, thrust it inside, and closed the lid.
“Is that all he was?” Oliver asked, disappointed.
“It seems so. The best things always come in oversized packages.”
“Overwrapping is the scourge of the age,” Oliver agreed.
“Now to see if I fit into the armour,” Roland said.
He put on the helmet. The red glowing “eyes” were still inside it, mounted in the visor but Roland could see through them. They gave the world a strange, red tinge. “Now the rest of it,” he said.
Savitri and Oliver helped Roland to put on the rest of the armour, leaving the boots until last.
The breast plate was too big for him and it reached down below his waist. As long as no one looked too hard. It might be alright, probably, he hoped.
The castle blacksmith made some extra shin pieces which were fastened onto the stilts. These would give Roland enough height and wouldn’t be too obvious – unless someone fell at his feet.
“That will happen after we win,” he said, trying to feign confidence.
The “boots” were the last parts to be fitted. They had no soles, the stilts simply went through them at the heel, so Savitri and Oliver simply tied them onto the stilts as best they could. They helped Roland up and he practised walking about. It was difficult and at first he could only walk in a series of jerks, but slowly he got more used to it.
“This is a crazy idea,” Savitri said.
“Do you have a better one?” he asked.
“Yes. Stay at home in bed.”
“I don’t feel tired,” he replied
He was surprised to find that even Savitri was against it. He had expected her to be determined to see it though. It gave him more than a moment of doubt.
There was no time for it. After a bit more practising it was time to be off. The evening had come and darkness had arrived. An attack could be due as ealry as first light – maybe even sooner, if uncle Dagarth was more sneaky than usual, and the Spirus of the same bent. It was time to get some spying done, and just hope that he could cope with the stilts.
“Why don’t you take them off until we are there?” Oliver asked.
“No,” Roland said “I can use the getting there for more practise walking on them.”
“Perhaps you need it,” Oliver said, and again he tried reason, “Look, do you really think this is a good idea?”
Roland did not reply, but simply put his best stilt forward.
To go down through the Scary Oak they needed to climb up the stairs of the tower. It was tough going on stilts but Roland was determined to make it even though he nearly fell backwards a couple of times. Once Savitri steadied him, “You are doing well,” she commended.
“Not such a bid idea after all then?” He asked.
“I didn’t say that,” she replied.
They arrived at the lower door and Roland removed the helmet so that Botherworth would know who he was. He then he banged on the door loudly. After a fairly long period Botherworth appeared in a – literally – moth eaten dressing gown and slippers that exuded a particular odour. He
looked up at Roland’s face, obviously puzzled by his sudden growth spurt. “Do you know what time it is?” he demanded.
“Yes, “Roland said, “We can tell the time.”
“Well then, you should know better than to be around here annoying decent grown up folk. You should be in bed, all of you.”
“We aren’t tired,” Roland objected.
“You are taller,” Botherworth said, still puzzled.
Despite Savitri’s lecture on toughness Roland decided that maybe a softly-softy approach was worth one last go with Mr B. He could hardly say ‘Its good to see you again’ as it wasn’t, so instead he tried, “How are you, Mister Botherworth?” in the most charming tones he could manage.
Botherworth responded with, “Look, if I told you I had a pain in my neck, pains in my back, a crick somewhere or another that gets cricked a lot and a pain in my bum that, oddly enough, is actually right in front of me and not where you’d expect it to be, would you really be interested?”
“No,” Roland said honestly.
“Well, then, go away and mind your own business.”
Roland pushed the door open and shoved Botherworth out of the way.
“Good for you!” Savitri said to Roland, as Botherworth headed off to his lair muttering complaints under his breath – “Youngsters today! No respect! Its all the fault of leftie educationalists - bring back discipline! The cane! That never did me no harm! Except when it hurt. Made me into a useful member of society, not like these young layabouts…”
The trio continued up the stairs and knocked on the Fortressers’ door. It took a very short while for Brother Goodwill to spring to their service. He was deliriously gleeful to see them, as ever, “Good night, good night, good night – no! Not to mean you are leaving, of course! I mean it as a greeting – which it isn’t, I suppose…. Odd, that; good morning is a greeting – good night means goodbye – as in go away! We don’t want you to leave! No we don’t! Goodness no! Welcome, welcome – in!”
He opened the door so wide and welcomingly that it almost broke off its hinges. Goodwill didn’t even seem to notice that Roland was wearing a black suit of armour and was nearly two feet taller. Roland explained, “We have decided to undertake a bit of espionage. We are going to go into the enemy camp via the Scary Oak – this is why I am disguised.”
“Oh! How thrilling!” Goodwill enthused loudly. “A secret mission! I will wake all the brothers and they can accompany you and cheer and sing as you go on your way!”
“No!” Roland said, feeling panicked at the idea. “It’s a secret mission! We can’t have people coming with us and cheering and singing – it would give us away!”
“Oh yes, of course. Of course! It’s been so long… I have quite forgotten how these things are done. I have accomplished my share of secret missions in my time. Wonderful experiences they are, all the lovely people you meet!”
‘And deceive,’ Roland thought, wondering how many underhand secret missions Goodwill could really have accomplished with such a positive attitude.
Goodwill seemed to have got the message but as they walked through the hall Savitri suggested, “I think we should knock him over the head, tie him up and leave him somewhere just in case”
We can’t do that to him,” Oliver said, “he’s so… lovely.”
“Lovely enough to get us all killed,” Savitri said under her breath.
Brother Goodwill remained un-trussed and it was a good thing as the trio had forgotten how to get to the Scary Oak through the tangle of passages. They needed Goodwill as a guide.
It was at the point where Roland had to descend down the ladders and then through the tree that the impractically of the plan became obvious. Doing so in a suit of armour was all but impossible but with the stilts as well it was quite out of the question. Roland didn’t want to take the armour off only to have to put it on again in the midst of the enemy. He put his helmet on so that he didn’t have to carry it and Brother Goodwill bustled off to find some rope. With this they lowered Roland down each level before descending themselves, finally lowering him down through the trunk of the tree. Even then it was a squeeze to get out at the bottom of the trunk. Savitri had volunteered to go ahead and check that the coast was clear whilst Brother Goodwill and Oliver lowered Roland down the final stage. Goodwill was persuaded to remain behind “as a backup” (they told him) but really they were concerned that his enthusiasm for meeting and greeting people might give them all away.
The enemy were camped all around the Scary Oak, but at some distance from it. Probably this was due to them not wanting to set light to the overhanging branches with their camp fires. There was quite a wide space left all around the tree and there were no guards on duty around it. Why should there be? The trio had successfully got around – over - the perimeter with no fuss at all. It would make it much easier to pass through the camp unnoticed as everyone in it doubtless still had that comfortable feeling of impregnability.
Oliver and Savitri helped Roland onto the feet of his stilts. Now he found out yet more about the pitfalls of them. Walking around on a stone floor with them had been one thing but on the grass of the hill it was quite another. It was rough and tufted so that he found it all too easy trip. At other places it was soft and he found himself sinking into it. On several occasions he almost fell over and Oliver had to steady him. When he tried to stand still he found that the stilts became stuck as they sank down and he could only pull them out again with a slurp and almost falling over.
“I thought this would be easier, “Roland cursed.
“Which way are you going to go - presuming you can?” Oliver asked.
“From the castle I saw an important looking tent in that direction,” – he pointed – “You can bet that is where Dagarth and his friends will meet up to scheme their schemes.”
Oliver helped him turn in the direction he had pointed. Roland started walking unsteadily. Between him and the important tent were a number of smaller tents and a couple of camp fires where the human soldiers were busy eating and drinking and occasionally making a lot of noise, arguing and fighting.
He thought that the cause was lost straightaway. He walked up to the nearest tent and as he was about to pass it a Spirus came out and got right in his way. He came to a dead stop in front of it. For a few seconds it just looked at him. Then, From deep inside the thing, came a noise like a piece of metal being dragged over a gritty stone floor. It made Roland think of a broken bell crying out in agony. He quickly realised that that was how they spoke. He couldn’t possibly make a sound like that, not even with practise and certainly not right now so he just saluted instead, hoping that his gauntlet was tied on properly and that it didn’t fly off. It didn’t, but for a second he imagined it hitting the creature right in the visor.
The Spirus seemed a bit put out by the fact that Roland didn’t say anything, but nothing more. It shuffled off towards one of the other tents. Roland struggled to regain some momentum as by this time his feet were sinking into the wet turf but
Instead of moving off again he tripped and fell over. Within seconds he felt hands on him and thought it was all up, but then he heard Oliver’s voice. “What did that thing want?”
“Just wanted to chat about the weather I expect. I just hope they don’t know any good jokes - I wont know when to laugh.”
“Want to give up now?” Oliver asked, hopefully.
“No,” said Roland, “I can do this – we have come so far.”
“And the dangerous bit is still ahead,” Savitri pointed out.
“That Spirus didn’t cop me as an intruder – that means I have a good chance.”
“It was probably too drunk,” Savitri said
“Do they look like drinkers?” Roland asked.
“They don’t look like any teetotallers I’ve ever met either,” Oliver noted.
They got Roland back on his stilts and sent him off in the right direction again.
He managed to walk past the few tents and the ca
mp fire without being noticed, although a drunken fight between two of the human soldiers nearly got in his way. He recognised the form of Serjeant Jankers rushing to put a stop to it and was glad there was a distraction.
As he approached the important tent he saw that it was not dark as he had hoped but instead was lit inside. He could hear familiar voices coming from it. Dagarth, Bril-a-Brag and Gloatenglorp were up late, arguing over plans. Occasionally he also heard the metallic tortured bell sound that he had heard earlier from the Spirus. One of them was in there, presumably their leader, arguing its case with the rest of them. Roland got closer, hoping he might overhear something by edging closer to the side of the tent.
He had been standing there barely a minute when he was suddenly grabbed by both arms. Two of the Spirusses had seen him. They both emitted the tortured metal sounds and then rushed him in through the doorway of the tent. In there, Dagarth, Bril-a-Brag, Gloatenglorp and a Spirus all stood behind a table, staring right at him. One of the Spirusses who had brought him in “spoke” to the one behind the table, who presumably was their chief. Gloatenglorp turned to Dagarth and Bril-a-Brag. He could obviously understand their language as he translated, “This,” - and he indicated Roland - “is one of the scouts they sent out earlier.”
The chief Spirus said something to Roland. Gloatenglorp translated for the others, “He is asking him what he has found out.”
Roland didn’t know what to say and even if he had, and had said it, his voice would certainly have given him away. Right in front of him on the table was a map of the castle and its surroundings. He moved towards it, raised a gauntlet and started gesturing over it, pointing at nothing in particular.
“I don’t understand what it’s trying to indicate,” Dagarth said testily, “Can’t it speak?”
The other Spirus who had brought him in spoke, obviously trying to explain something. Gloatenglorp translated again, “They found him standing around outside. Judging from the dents in his armour they think he was attacked and may be in a daze.”
“Brain damaged more like!" said Dagarth.
Gloatenglorp looked at Roland and made sounds rather like the metallic sounds of the Spirus - as far as any human could make such sounds. Roland realised that Gloatenglorp was asking him questions directly. He started gesticulating over the map again, trying to distract attention from his silence.
“There must be something wrong with it,” Dagarth said, “Do they have gears or something? It must be broken.” and he moved toward Roland to rap him on the helmet with a stick. At that moment there were more metallic sounds from outside and another Spirus entered, saluted and spoke.
“This is another of the scouts they sent out,” Gloatenglorp interpreted.
Let’s hope this one makes a lot more sense,” Dagarth said.
It seems it did. It let rip with the most appalling sounds, like a whole load of metal scrap being dragged around a quarry. Once more Gloatenglorp translated, “He says that they have located the lower water gate. We should be able to take it and then we can drain the moat as we wish. It will not matter though as the – and Gloatenglorp made a sound like the Spirusses – presumably the word didn’t translate – can pass through water anyway. However, our troops will be able to pass through the castle walls after them with dry feet!”
“Grand,” said Bril-a-Brag.
“And this –“ and he tried to say that word that Gloatenglorp had tried to say, “this Zzzzzzarrrrrrrrblurrrrrrghzzzzzrrrrrr,” - his attempt to speak their language plainly caused pain to the Spirusses as it didn't sound dreadful enough - “has it arrived yet?” Gloatenglorp asked the chief Spirus in Spirus noises. The chief Spirus replied, with Gloatenglorp translating once more, “It has. It is concealed on the far side of the hill.”
“Good,” Dagarth said, “Now I will show that little brat nephew of mine who is in charge around here. I’ll give him a whopping!”
The chief Spirus made the metallic grating sound again and all the other Spirusses turned about and walked out of the tent. Roland was left there with everyone else standing at him, expectantly. He gathered that the chief Spirus’ words had been an order of dismissal and he was supposed to have left with the others. That, however, was going to be a problem. Roland’s feet had by now sunk deep into the soft, wet turf and he found that he was unable to turn on the spot. As he struggled all he succeeded in doing was getting his feet pointed in opposite directions, with his legs crossed, whilst his body ended up sideways to the table.
As Dagarth and the others looked on in puzzlement he struggled to pull the other foot up whilst at the same time fighting to maintain his balance. It wasn’t easy, particularly as he had the weight of armour to try to balance as well. Gradually it started to give. Dagarth and crew continued to look on in increasing amazement and were even getting suspicious.
When Roland’s foot finally came out it did so suddenly. He found himself lurching towards the side of the tent and had to keep putting one stilt in front of the other to stop himself from overbalancing completely. He saw the side of the tent rushing up at him and ended going head first into it. He fell forwards and was wrapped in the canvas as he did so.
It took a few seconds for him to recover from the fall. Judging from the angry shouts and sounds of confusion that came from behind him he guessed that he must have pulled the tent down on the lot of them. He was on the outer edge of the fallen canvas whereas the others were struggling under the middle of it. Because of this he was able to get out first, crawling on his hands and knees. Dagarth and company were now guaranteed to investigate thoroughly the suspicious Spirus who had pulled down the command tent. Roland knew it was pointless to try and right himself with the stilts on so he quickly untied them and took them off, together with as much of the armour as he could. Meanwhile the shouts from under the canvas were inevitably attracting attention. He could hear his uncle shouting, “What the blazes! I thought they were warriors, not a troupe of clowns! When I get out of here I am going to have it’s armour melted down for scrap and whatever’s inside flayed on a rack!”
It was time to leave, and hastily.
Without the stilts Roland was now able to stand up. He did so and started to run as fast as he could back to the Scary Oak. Behind him he heard the sound of canvas ripping and guessed that those underneath it had worked out that the best way to escape was to cut their way out with swords. In a few seconds he heard Bril-a-Brag shouting, “There it goes and now! That must be it – its running away - but it’s shrunk! It’s two feet shorter than it was a minute ago! What on earth is going on?”
And Dagarth yelled, “It’s that boy! I don’t understand how but I know it is! The little scoundrel! when I get him by the scruff…”
With the rumpus of the command tent the rest of the camp were coming to action stations. The chase was on and Roland found himself ducking and weaving to avoid groups of solders trying to catch him. He dived under a cart and emerged the other side free of one group of pursuers, only to pick up another group. More were in front but he managed to evade them by throwing himself down the hillside and rolling into the bushes. There he was able to catch a few moments of breath whilst they searched for him. The noise and confusion in the camp was continuing and he could hear the voices of Bril-a-Brag, Dagarth and Gloatenglorp shouting orders and generally adding to the chaos. Eventually it went quiet and Roland thought – hoped - it would/might be safe to move again.
He fought his way through the bushes towards the Scary Oak. Once there the way seemed clear so he leapt out and ran across the clearing. In front of him were Oliver and Savitri standing by the Scary Oak. The moment Oliver saw Roland he yelled out, “Go back! It’s a trap!”
But it was too late. Savitri drew her sword and out of the nearby bushes sprang a group of Bril-Brag’s men. They wrestled Roland to the ground. The pursuers from the tent caught up and as they did so Savitri spoke, saying to Bril-a-brag, “I did as you commanded my lord. I have found out the secrets of the castle. I took
this foolish boy into my confidence and he told me everything.”
“Well done Savitri, well done,” Bril-a-Brag said.