Roland's Castle

  Chapter 8

  Roland was surprised by how quickly they got the command tent up again. Only a few gashes in the canvas were left to show what had happened. They put the large table back as well, but without the map. This was clearly so that Roland and Oliver could not see any more of it as they were now tied to chairs nearby. It didn’t matter; Roland was sure he could remember the details.

  With the map gone there wasn’t really much to look at in the tent. It was just the two boys, a table and a couple of Spirus guards. All Roland and Oliver had to do was await the inquisition in the inevitable form of Dagarth, Bril-a-Brag and Gloatenglorp.

  It came soon enough as they strode into the tent with an annoyingly triumphant spring in their step and smirks on their faces.

  “Now let me assure you that you are going to tell us everything, absolutely everything, however long it takes,” said Bril-a-Brag.

  “Hasn’t Savitri already told you everything?” Roland asked.

  “Yes, but I want to hear it from you too. It’s so much more pleasurable that way. Let me explain; I am a creature of eclectic tastes. I enjoy the subtle pleasures of successful espionage – sending Savitri in to spy on you – but I also enjoy a thoroughly good torture session with lots of pleading and screaming.”

  “For goodness sake hurry up and make him scream!” Dagarth said, “I‘ve waited long enough to hear it.”

  Roland said with an insolent smile, “I really don’t understand what you have against me uncle.”

  “Don’t you! You chucked me out of the castle that is rightfully mine by birth.”

  “The castle rejected you,” Roland pointed out, nodding towards Dagarth’s burned bum, “why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk about it?”

  Dagarth’s face distorted and reddened with rage, I’ll show you…!”

  “Don’t you want to know how Dogwood and Dagwood are?” Roland asked, “We pulled them up out of the moat, wailing and sobbing…”

  “Serves them right for being captured! A spell in a dungeon will toughen them up a bit. Come to think of it, probably not as you don’t know much about proper dungeons do you? Your idea probably involves cushions and room service.”

  And yours involves loud screaming,” Roland said.

  “And what is wrong with that? Bril-a-Brag interjected, “The enjoyment of organised sound is one of the great achievements of civilisation.”

  “Only when everyone can enjoy it,” Roland said. “Look, Are you actually going to get on with it and torture us or just faff around, because I m getting bored. Or is that part of the torture?”

  “An interesting idea, but no,” said Bril-a-Brag. “Look, why the rush? I prefer to start a torture session after a good night sleep and a hearty breakfast. You must wait eagerly - until tomorrow!”

  “I’d prefer to get on with it right now ,” Dagarth said – clearly he and Bril-a-brag did have differences over torturing, after all.

  “We really do need to get in some gloating as well,” Bril-a-Brag said, “We are villains after all. Gloating is what we do!”

  “So this is where you tell us your dastardly schemes?” Roland asked.

  “Dastardly – a good word! I wonder, if schemes can be dastardly, is there such a thing as a dastard?”

  “Look in the mirror,” Roland said.

  And why do you say that?”

  “Because you want to steal our castle.”

  “A castle that no doubt your ancestors stole from someone else, or were given by some thieving prince.”

  “First, my ancestors were not thieves, second, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

  “If evil does evil to evil, is that not good?”

  “What about a third wrong? You’ll have to watch out that someone doesn’t do the same to you, then.” Roland objected.

  “Of course. When a thief steals from a thief, the devil must work to keep his own wallet. When a murderer kills a murderer, the devil must make laws to protect himself.”

  “So laws are the devils work?”

  “By the devil done, for the devil to undo. Doesn’t Plato say that the strong are right to do what they want?”

  “That wasn’t Plato, it was Thrasymachus, in a discussion with Socrates, in a book that was written by Plato. And anyway, Socrates proves he is wrong.”

  “By a technicality I think. Socrates declares a foul in a game where he is both player and referee and Plato is writing the rules as he pleases. Now that’s what I call cheating!”

  “So the man you agree with is a cheat?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “It’s what you meant.”

  “You are mixing my words!”

  “Your words match your intentions and your actions – all are at fault.”

  “Ach!” Said Bril-a-Brag, “You won’t argue so well tomorrow,” and he stomped off.

  Dagarth ruddled with frustration but could only raise his fist at Roland. He also said “Ach!” and stomped off, leaving Roland and Oliver with only the two Spirusses for companionship.

  “Know any good jokes?” Roland asked them.

  They remained silent.

  “You just can’t think of one when you want to tell one, can you? Yet later on they all come back to you….”

  The Spirusses continued to remain silent.

  “At least they have the same problem remembering jokes as humans do.” Oliver said.

  The Spirus were not great conversationalists either, They remained silent and Roland and Oliver found that they had little to say to each other given their situation. The most important thing was to try to escape without alerting their guards, which was a tall order with them right up close. Unfortunately the knots had been expertly tied. Even if the boys hadn’t had to conceal their attempts to undo them from their guards it would have been impossible. They may as well have been bound by iron and it started to feel like it.

  Roland, of course, wanted to get back to the castle and play his role in its defence, not sit here as a helpless captive at the mercy of his enemies. He took his anger out on the ropes by attempting to stretch them but the pain in his wrists quickly made him regret it.

  As they struggled the camp went quiet and they guessed that the armies were getting some sleep There was nothing to do except wait and try to work on the knots that bound them.

  Some time had passed when there was a noise at the tent flap and through it rolled Fred’s head – or his helmet, at least. It rolled right up to the feet of the Spirusses, looking up at them with its red eyes, glowering as ever. The Spirusses looked down at it, looked at each other and then down at it again. One of them bent to pick it up, but then the helmet started back the way that it came, out through the door. All watched in amazement, but then Roland noticed that there was string tied to the helmet by which it was being drawn along.

  The Spirus who had bent to pick it up followed it right out of the door, whereupon there was muffled clang and a sort of whooshing-rushing sound, then the sound of empty armour collapsing on the ground. Roland and Oliver looked at each other, then at the remaining Spirus.

  A few seconds later the helmet of the Spirus that had followed Fred’s head out the doorway came rolling in through the door, right up to the remaining Spirus’ feet. He looked down at it, looked towards the door, and then slowly and cautiously went outside to look around. Again there was clang, a rushing-whooshing sound followed by the sound of empty armour collapsing. After a few seconds Savitri came through the tent opening.

  “Quick!” she said, “We don’t have much time!”

  “You!” Roland exclaimed.

  “You traitor!” Oliver said.

  “Yes, that is why I am here to rescue you, you idiots”

  “Why did you turn on me and take me captive?” Oliver persisted, as Savitri worked at cutting though their ropes.

  “We were about to be discovered and it just made sense for me to appear to be on their side so I could rescue you later. Otherwise I would be here tied up lik
e you two.”

  “Makes sense,” Oliver conceded.

  “But Bril-a-Brag said you told them all my secrets,” Roland protested, only half believing Savitri’s story.

  “I told them a load of rubbish. They think there is crock of gold deep under the castle keep. I made it all up!”

  Roland felt relieved, in more ways than one. Obviously he had not wanted his secrets told to the enemy, but the idea that he had been betrayed by someone in whom he had placed so much trust had shaken him.

  “Thank you,” he said to Savitri, pleased that his faith had been confirmed, “I am sorry I doubted you.”

  “I am on your side,” she said, looking him right in the eye, “But I’m not your Asian sidekick. Now we have to get out of here,”

  “We are in the middle of an armed camp with sentries all around. Nothing could be simpler,” Oliver said sarcastically.

  Savitri told them, “I have arranged a little diversion which should be going off just about….. NOW!”

  And there was an “aieeeeghhhh!” From a distant tent and then the sound of Gloatenglorp’s voice shouting at full volume, “Rats in my trousers!

  Rats in my trousers!

  Wet fish and pudding pie

  All fall down and hope to die

  Hail the midshipman

  Windmills and daffodils

  Jousting with giants

  Mint juleps form hamster jam!

  As he shouted this out, he emerged from his tent with his sword drawn and started running and leaping through the camp slashing at anything that moved. Others rushed from their tents fearing it was a surprise attack by an army, only to find that Gloatenglorp was a handful all on his own, spreading terror, chaos and confusion as people fled before him.

  “I cut through the rope holding him up whilst he was sleeping,” Savitri explained, “just enough so that it slowly gave way and he fell on his head and woke up. It has happened before and when it does he goes berserk….”

  Everyone was too busy fleeing for their lives to notice that the prisoners were escaping. As quickly and quietly as they could they made their way through the madness that had erupted. On one occasion Gloatenglorp came close to them, still yelling and shouting nonsense and brandishing his sword to the terror of all nearby. Bril-a-brag was nowhere to be seen and Roland suspected he knew when to make himself scarce when his servant was in that kind of mood. Probably has his head beneath the bedclothes, Roland thought. Good. The longer the better.

  The escapees quickly found their way to the Scary Oak and climbed up inside the trunk. Brother Goodwill was waiting and ready to help them up through the trap door, “Welcome! Welcome! Welcome! What a wonderful adventure you must have had! And quite a long one too! You must tell me all about it and how thrilling it was, and about all the lovely people you met whilst having it!”

  “He really needs to give it a rest,” Oliver said.

  “It’s better than what we were in for below,” Roland replied.

  “Point taken,” Oliver agreed.

  Firebrace was not pleased when they returned to the great hall. Neither was he pleased to hear of their adventure, to hear that they had been captured, or to hear that they had nearly been tortured.

  “I told you it was a foolish plan,” he said.

  “But we got away with it – and we got some useful information,” Roland said.

  “We did?” Oliver asked.

  “Of course,” Roland said, “I think I did rather well. I got a good gawp at their plans plus When I was in their tent they were talking about something that would give them an advantage – Gloatenglorp couldn’t translate it but it is some kind of siege weapon, no doubt. We must find out what it is. “

  You’re not thinking of going back!” Oliver gasped, and Firebrace looked like he was about to burst with fury and frustration.

  “No,” said Roland, “I don’t think we can sneak back in again.”

  “Don’t you?” Oliver said sarcastically.

  “No, but we could really do with being able to see beyond the passage that leads to the Scary Oak – maybe climb out onto the branches and see if we can see any further.”

  “There is always the inspection cradle,” said Brother Stalwart, who had been awakened by an excited Brother Goodwill anxious to tell everyone about the lovely adventure.

  “Inspection cradle?” Roland asked.

  It’s used to maintain the tower from the outside – and to clean the windows. It can be “projected out on a boom.”

  “Right out to the back of the Scary Oak hill?”

  “The brow of the hill is the perimeter of the tower. The boom will stretch the rest of the way, if we all hang on to the inside end and support it. There is just one problem…”

  “That is?”

  Once you are beyond the limit of the tower you will be visible. Anyone looking up “will be able to see you.”

  “But they will not be able to reach me,” Roland objected.

  “I really think we should send someone else, Roland,” Firebrace objected. “the captain of a ship should send a subordinate to a hostile shore.”

  “He should also go down with it, and I have no intention of doing that either. Anyway, Who do I send? Someone to take the risks for me? I have been protected for long enough - the castle’s safety is my responsibility.”

  Firebrace nodded reluctant agreement. He was concerned, but also proud.

  “Get this cradle thing ready,” Roland said, “I am going to have another go at spying on our enemies!”

  The cradle and the boom were found and Roland, Oliver, Savitri and the Fortressers manhandled it along the plankway that led out to the Scary Oak. Brother Stalwart opened the shutters on a window and Roland looked out and down to the topmost branches of the Scary Oak, far below. For a moment the height struck him and caused a giddy feeling. He stepped back.

  “Still want to try this?” Oliver asked him.

  “Yes. More than ever,” Roland said.

  It was amazing that the Scary Oak, which looked so tall from below, now looked so small from above. Its branches reached up only a small part of the distance to the great sky above.

  The cradle was attached to the end of the first beam and set upon the ledge of the window. It was very small, and Roland was barely able to cram himself into it. The next beam was attached and the cradle pushed out from the window. As each beam was attached to the end of the last the cradle moved further out from the tower, the brothers taking the strain of holding it up and also pushing hard. Roland looked over the edge of the wicker cradle and could see the camp where he had been the night before. The men below looked tiny and he was cheered by how small they looked. Surely it could not be so difficult to deal with such tiny creatures? He laughed and thought how he would look from this high up if he were on the ground. Even smaller, of course!

  He looked back at the tower and could see nothing. Only the boom being paid out as if from nowhere. It was as if he were simply hanging in the air. It was amazing. It was at this point that he realised that he had no means to communicate with the brothers to tell them when to bring him in. It was a nuisance. He cursed and wished he had thought of it before. At that moment a sparrow landed on his shoulder and pecked his ear. He shrugged his shoulder in an attempt to get rid of it and then raised his hand to brush it away. The sparrow simply flew to the other ear and gave it a nip. “Go away!” he cursed, and tried to swipe it again. The sparrow flew off but then landed in front of him on the edge of the cradle and looked at him sideways with its left eye.

  Suddenly Roland remembered about the birds nesting in the roof of the library and Firebrace’s mention of them as messengers.

  He tried it. “Tell the brothers to pay me out about fifty more feet.”

  The sparrow flew off with a few tweets and headed straight into the tower, becoming invisible as it did so. In a few seconds it returned and tweeted a few more tweets. The boom was paid out about fifty more feet and stopped.

  “You kn
ow my language but I don’t know yours,” Roland said, "Sorry. Makes you wonder who is the real bird brain around here!”

  And the sparrow made a noise that Roland interpreted as a laugh.

  As he was pushed over the brow of the hill Roland saw what it had been obscuring. At first he thought his eyes must be mistaken. There was a huge – creature – with a smooth, dark polished shell. It was narrow at what Roland assumed was the front but it became wider and taller toward the rear. It had horns on what seemed to be its head, but apart from that it looked like a giant metal rat, except that there were legs sticking out of the sides - many of them, like a centipede’s - and tentacles, or feelers, sticking out from around what Roland assumed was its mouth, He shivered at the sight of it. Surely the castle could not withstand such a monstrosity. He had seen enough.

  “Would you please ask them to pull me back in,” he said to the sparrow, and it flew off. Within a few moments he was being pulled back in.

  “What did you see?” Oliver asked when Roland got out of the cradle.

  “Some monster – I think it may even have been alive - like a horned beetle with many legs.”

  Brother Stalwart spoke, “A scuttler! I’ve never actually seen one but I’ve heard of them. A prime weapon of the detested Spirus! Horrible things - they can take down a castle!”

  “What are they? Are they alive?”

  “They are creatures of sorts. Not so much like animals — more like aggressive vegetables, but they are very dangerous.”

  “What can we do?” Roland asked.

  “Try to defeat it,” Stalwart said, “What else?”

  “What are the chances of that?” Roland asked seriously.

  “We must do our best,” Brother Stalwart said grimly.

  “I am going to attack it from the air. Get some bombs and pay me out again – I will drop them on it.”

  “That I am afraid we cannot do,” Brother Stalwart said.

  “What!?” Roland asked, “I will be taking the risk. It is my life.”

  “You don’t understand. It is against our oath. If we aid you in such an attack it may result in us taking a life. It is against our oath to actively partake in violence.”

  “The villagers will have no problem helping, I am sure,” Roland said with contempt, pushing past Stalwart.

  Oliver organised the strongest of the villagers to take control of the boom and showed them how to use it. Roland asked them, “Can you speak sparrow?”

  They looked at him as if he had gone off his rocker.

  “Just keep pushing me out until I wave my – and he grabbled a neckerchief off of one of them – until I wave this and then bring me back in again quickly!”

  “Do you have the bombs?” he said to Oliver. Oliver produce three bombs, like round black balls the size of large apples with fuses sticking out of them. They were hollow and contained gunpowder.

  “I will need something to light them,” Roland said. Savitri produced her tinder box and gave it to him.

  “Good! We are set!”

  Roland was pushed out again. He looked downwards checking that he had not been spotted, but those down below were busy going about their business, quite unaware of what was above them. It was the ultimate sneak attack, worthy of uncle Dagarth himself, Roland thought, but he didn’t expect that his uncle would appreciate it.

  When he was right over the scuttler he lit the tinder and picked up the bomb, placing the end of the fuse against the fire. It fizzled and sparkled. The fuses had been left long enough so Roland could use his judgement as to how long to wait until dropping them. It was a good thing too as the first one dropped onto of the creature long before exploding. It rolled down the smooth shell and didn’t explode until it hit the ground. Roland had counted the time between when it hit the scuttler and when it exploded so he would know how long to wait before dropping the next one.

  The second one did indeed explode at the moment of contact, but there was little effect. By this time the men and Spirusses around the scuttler were aware that they were under attack and were looking around for where the missiles were coming from. They were scouring the horizon but didn’t think to look up – not at first.

  The smoke from the second bomb cleared and Roland looked down to see that it, too, had been ineffectual. There wasn’t a dent or a scratch on the thing, not one that was visible from up here. He lit the fuse of the third bomb and dropped it.

  It also exploded without effect. Beneath him the enemy had failed to identify an attacker on the ground and one of the men thought to look above him. He shouted and pointed at Roland who quickly realised it was time to retreat.

  At the same time he began to smell something burning. At first he thought it was coming from down below but then he began to realise that he was getting a little too warm for that. There was fire right beside him – underneath him! He looked down to see that he had spilled the burning contents of the tinder box into the cradle and that it was now on fire. Meanwhile the archers below were pulling back their bows and taking aim.

  Roland pulled the neckerchief to signal the others to pull him back in but that had caught fire as well. He dropped it as a flaming rag and started to signal with his hands. Meanwhile arrows started to rush past him and a couple hit the bottom of the cradle, one pushing its tip through the floor. Roland waved his arms frantically but by this time those in the tower had realised his distress and he was being pulled in quickly. The cradle was now well on fire and Roland began to wonder whether he would be burned to death, whether he would die as a result of falling when the bottom of the cradle burned through, or whether he would be killed by an arrow – or arrows.

  It was about to get worse. Beneath him the scuttler had begun to stir. It was now making an aggressive roaring sound and a strange whirring. It did not sound good and Roland suspected that it was the build up to some sort of aggressive act. As he got closer to the tower he found out he was right. The scuttler reared up like a horse whilst it horns closed together and then drew apart again. Between them now was a bright, glowing string, like lightning. The horns pointed towards him and the lightning string formed into a missile which the creature shot towards him. It hit the tower just below the point where the boom projected from it.

  Just For a moment Roland saw what the tower actually looked like. The energy from the scuttler’s missile spread across and through it, causing it to be visible and shine. It was like a tree of crystals with many branches and a gleaming trunk that stretched from the ground to the sky. Around it was wrapped a spiral which also shone. Roland was quite stunned by the sight of it, but was then jerked back to reality by the scuttler’s second missile, which came much closer. By that time he was very near the window. Seeing that the boom disappeared just a few feet in front of him he decided to leap for it. Grabbing up Savitri’s tinder box he placed a foot on the edge of the cradle and leapt into the air. He passed through the window and landed in a heap on the floor. Savitri and Oliver picked him up and made sure he wasn’t on fire.

  “That was close!” he said.

  “You are a risk taker,” Savitri said, “I think I underestimated you.”

  “You think!?” Oliver said.

  “I did no harm to that thing, whatever it is. It was useless,” Roland cursed angrily.

  “You tried,” Oliver said.

  “Trying is not succeeding, and we need to succeed. Dagarth only has to beat us once, and he can stay out there until Doomsday trying at it.”

  “Unless we take it to him,” Savitri said, “Finish this now.”

  “And divide our forces,” Roland said.

  “We fought them off once before with the villagers, and we have another army – or have you forgotten those Sun Warrior things?” Savitri said.

  “Of course!” Oliver said.

  “I was hoping to hold them in reserve, until a time when we really needed them,” Roland objected.

  Firebrace said, “I think that time may have come.”

  The Sun W
arriors were an eerie sight under their sheets. The only cheering thing about them was that they were on the side of the castle.

  “Do they ride?” Roland inquired.

  “Yes, they ride,” Firebrace said.

  “They will need horses,” Roland said.

  “They will have horses,” Firebrace said.

  “But where from?”

  “You will see. Now, raise your arm,”

  Roland did so, and as he did the warriors reached up with their hands and removed the sheets that covered them. Before him were a hundred suits of glittering armour.

  “Address one of them and you will address them all,” Firebrace said.

  Roland tried it, “Right err, well, we need…,” he cleared his throat and tried to speak in the tones of a leader, “We need you to go out and fight against my uncle, but, well, I can’t send you out on your own and…. – I will lead you!

  “Roland!” Oliver objected.

  “Good for you!” Savitri said, “and I will ride out by your side.”

  “Will you stay here,” Roland said to Oliver, “You can lead the defence of the tower in my absence, but use Firebrace to guide you, follow his advice.”

  Back in the great hall Roland and friends pored over the maps of the castle and its surroundings once more.

  “lets recap what we know,” Roland said. “We cannot defeat that Spirus scuttler thing and it will likely breach the castle walls. So, we must attack the people attacking with it. That means we must fight them hand-to-hand them in the field.”

  “I like it,” Savitri said

  “I thought you might,” Roland said. “Kind of your thing isn’t it?”

  “Definitely,” Savitri agreed.

  “I think we need another advantage – something else to ensure this strategy is a success.”

  “What?” Oliver asked.

  “The land surveyor,” Roland said. “It is time to bring all of our resources to bear. It is win or lose time. We get him out there with his clipboard and his theodo-ma-thingey-ma-jig and change the world beneath their feet, then go in for the attack with the sun warriors.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Savitri said.

  “It is one,” Roland agreed, “Let’s just hope it is a good one.”