“Oh, does he?” said the Scarecrow. “You can tell him in return that I am a proud and free scarecrow, unused to tyranny and the despotic rule of a set of feathered popinjays, and I shall never submit to censorship.”
“Righto, master,” said Jack.
He turned to the President and said, “Lord Scarecrow presents his most cordial and earnest compliments and begs the Congress to regard his hasty words of a moment ago as being merely the natural and warmhearted exuberance of one who has all his life cherished the highest and most passionate regard for all the nation of the birds. He asks me to add that he has never in his whole life received an honor that means as much to him as this gold medal, and he is already the holder of the Order of the Emerald Wurzel, the Beetroot Cup, and the Parsnip Challenge Trophy. What's more, he's a Knight of the Broomstick. But he'd gladly relinquish all those honors in favor of your gold medal, which he intends to wear with a full and grateful heart for the rest of his days.”
“He said all that, did he?” said the President suspiciously.
“It's what they call a compressed language, Coconut,” said Jack.
“Is it. Well, if that is the case, then I am happy to accept his apology,” said the President, bowing stiffly to the Scarecrow.
“He says he offers his most humble apology,” Jack told the Scarecrow.
“It didn't sound like that to me,” said his master. “In fact—”
“No, he was speaking in Bird.”
“Ah, I see,” said the Scarecrow. “What an extraordinary language.”
“That's why you need an interpreter, master.”
“Indeed. How lucky that you speak it so fluently! Well, in that case, I am happy to accept his apology.”
And the Scarecrow bowed very stiffly to the President.
Seeing this display of mutual respect, all the birds broke into a storm of singing and shouting and flapping and squawking and chirping and cooing. The Scarecrow responded by beaming widely and bowing in all directions. And thus everyone, for the moment, became the best of friends; but Jack thought that they would probably need a good interpreter for some time to come.
After the formalities the Congress moved on to discuss the business of Spring Valley. But the Scarecrow didn't seem able to keep his mind on it. Several birds gave reports on the Buffaloni Corporation's poison factory, and the way they'd diverted the streams and drained the wells and dried up the fountains; but all the Scarecrow could do was fidget and scratch and pluck at his clothes.
When they broke for a recess, Jack said, “Are you all right, master? You look a little out of sorts.”
“I think I'm leaking, my boy,” said the Scarecrow. “I'm suffering a severe loss of straw.”
Jack had a look.
“It's true, master,” he said. “Something must have loosened your stuffing. We'll have to get you some more.”
“What are you doing?” said the chaffinch, flying down to look. “What's going on? What's the matter?”
“Lord Scarecrow's leaking,” Jack explained. “We've got to find some more stuffing for him.”
“Nothing to it! You leave it to us!” said the chaffinch, and flew away.
“I'll take all this old straw out, master,” said Jack. “It's been soaked and dried and battered about so much that you could do with a new filling. You'll feel much better for it, you take my word.”
He pulled out handfuls of dusty old straw, bits of twig, scraps of rag, and all the other bits and pieces the Scarecrow was so full of.
“I feel very hollow,” said the Scarecrow. “I don't like it a bit. I can hear myself echoing.”
“Don't worry, master, we'll soon have you filled up again. Hello! What's this?”
Tucked into the middle of all the straw was a little packet of paper wrapped in oilskin.
“That's my inner conviction,” said the Scarecrow. “Don't throw that away, whatever you do.”
Jack unwrapped the oilskin. Inside it there was a sheet of paper covered in writing.
“Oh, dear,” said Jack. “I hoped there'd be a picture. I can't read this, master, can you?”
“Alas, no,” said the Scarecrow. “I think my education was interrupted.”
By that time a flock of birds had begun to fly down, each carrying a piece of straw or a twig or a bit of moss, and under the chaffinch's direction they packed them securely into the Scarecrow's inside. Each bird flew in, wove its contribution into the rest, and darted out again.
“They're doing some good stuffing, master,” said Jack. “I'll put this back now, and then they can finish it off.”
“What's that?” said the chaffinch. “What have you got there? What is it?”
“It's my inner conviction,” said the Scarecrow.
“What's it say? What's it all about?”
“We don't know,” said Jack. “We can't read.”
With a loud chirrup of impatience, the chaffinch flew away. The other birds went on packing the Scarecrow, but word had got around, and the President himself came along to have a look. While the little birds flew in and out, the Scarecrow displayed his inner conviction proudly.
“You see, it's bound in oilskin,” he said proudly. “So all through our adventures, it's been perfectly preserved. I knew it was there,” he added. “I've been certain of it all my life.”
“Yes, but what does it say, you half-wit?” demanded the President. “Are you too silly to know what your own inner conviction is?”
The Scarecrow opened his mouth to protest, but then remembered and looked at Jack for the translation.
But Jack didn't have time to say a word, because a harsh “Caw!” from behind him made him jump, and he turned around to see an elderly raven fly down and land on the grass.
She nodded to the President, who bowed very respectfully back at her.
“Good day, Granny Raven,” he said.
“Well, where is it?” she said. “This paper from inside the Scarecrow. Come on, let's have a look.”
Jack unfolded it for her, and she put a big claw on it and read it silently.
Then she looked up.
“You, boy,” she said to Jack. “I want a word with you. Come over here.”
Jack followed her to a quiet spot a little way away.
“I heard about your so-called translating,” she said. “You're a bright lad, but don't push your luck. Now tell me about the Scarecrow, and don't leave anything out.”
So Jack told her everything that had happened from the moment he heard the Scarecrow calling for help in the muddy field to the moment when he'd fainted from hunger the day before.
“Right,” she said. “Now there's going to be big trouble coming, and the Scarecrow's going to need that inner conviction of his more than ever. Fold it up, and put it back inside him, and don't let him lose it.”
“But why, Granny Raven? What's this trouble? And is he going to be in any danger? I mean, he's as brave as a lion, but he's not all there in the head department, if you see what I mean.”
“Not that sort of trouble. Legal trouble. Buffaloni trouble.”
“Well, we can run away!”
“No, you can't, not anymore. They're on your trail. We've got a couple of days' advantage, so we've got to make the most of it.”
“I don't like the sound of this at all.”
“There's a chance,” said Granny Raven, “but only if you do exactly as I tell you. And hurry up—we haven't got a moment to lose.”
Chapter Thirteen
The Assizes
The first thing Granny Raven told them to do was get themselves back to the mainland. This turned out to be quite easy. Some seagulls who lived by the nearest fishing port found a rowboat that wasn't being used, and they hitched it up to a team of geese, who towed it across to the island in less than a day. Once Jack and his master were on board, the birds towed it back the same way, and that very evening the two wanderers settled down under a hedge.
“Who knows, Jack,” said the Scarecrow, “this could
be one of our last nights in the open air! We'll be sleeping in our very own farmhouse before long.”
Or jail, Jack thought.
The next thing they had to do was make their way to the town of Bella Fontana, which was the nearest town to Spring Valley. By walking hard, they did it in less than a week. Granny Raven had had to go elsewhere on urgent business, she said, but she'd see them in the town.
“You know, Jack,” the Scarecrow said as they walked toward the marketplace, “I might have been mistaken about these birds. They're very good-hearted, fundamentally. No brains to speak of, but full of good intentions.”
“Now then, master,” said Jack, “just remember: Granny Raven said she'd meet us by the fountain. And while we're in the town, I think you'd better leave the talking to me. You'll be much more impressive if you keep silent and mysterious.”
“Well, that's exactly what I am,” said the Scarecrow.
On the way, he'd managed to lose his gold medal eleven times and the oilskin package containing his inner conviction sixteen. Jack thought it would be a good idea to put them in a bank and keep them safe till they were needed. So as soon as they got to the town center, with its dried-up basin that had once been the municipal fountain, they looked around for the bank.
They were about to go inside when a big black bird flew down and perched on the dusty basin and gave a loud “Caw!”
“Granny Raven!” said Jack. “Where've you been? We were just going into the bank.”
“I've been busy,” she said. “What d'you want a bank for?”
The Scarecrow explained: “We're going to deposit my inner conviction. Don't worry. We know what we're doing.”
“You're luckier than you deserve,” said Granny Raven. “D'you know what that bank's called? It's the Banco Buffaloni.”
The Scarecrow stared at it in dismay.
“These Buffalonis are everywhere!” he said. “Well, we can't trust this bank, it's obvious. I shall have to look after my inner conviction myself. Where is it? Where's it gone? Where did I put it?”
“You've got it, master,” said Jack. “It's safe in your straw. But what do we do now, Granny Raven? And what's going on? There's a lot of people around.”
“It's the Assizes,” she said, “when the judge comes around judging court cases. He tries all the criminals and judges all the civil cases. There he is now.”
As Jack and the Scarecrow watched, the great doors of the town hall opened, and out came an elderly man wearing a long red robe, at the head of a procession of men carrying maces and scrolls. Behind him came several men in black robes, who were the lawyers, and finally came the town clerk in a top hat. Escorted by a procession of policemen in their best uniforms, they crossed the square and went up the steps into the law court.
“Right,” said Granny Raven. “You go in after them and get a move on.”
“But what are we going to do in there?”
“You're going to go to court and register the Scarecrow's claim to Spring Valley.”
“An excellent idea, Jack!” said the Scarecrow. “Let's do it at once.”
And before Jack could hold him back, the Scarecrow set off up the steps and in through the doors, with Granny Raven sitting on his shoulder.
Jack darted up behind him and found the Scarecrow arguing with an official behind a desk.
“But I demand the right to have my case heard!” the Scarecrow was saying, banging his umbrella on the desk. “It is an extremely important matter!”
“You're not on my list,” said the official. “What's your name? Lord Scarecrow? Don't be ridiculous. Go away!”
Jack thought he'd better help. They were in such deep trouble already that they might as well dig a bit deeper.
“Ah, you don't understand,” he said. “This case is a matter of extreme urgency. It all turns on the ownership of Spring Valley, and it won't take long. If it's not settled, you see, all the water'll dry up. Just like the fountain out there. Stick him on the list, and we can get through it in five minutes, and then all the water in the valley will be safe.”
“Go on!” said a man in the queue for the public seats. “I'd like to see a scarecrow in court.”
“Yeah, let him go first,” said a woman with a shopping bag. “He's got a nice face.”
“He's got a face like a coconut!” said the official.
“Well, it is a coconut,” the Scarecrow agreed.
“Go on, put him on first,” people were saying. “It's the only laugh we'll have today.”
“Yes! Let the scarecrow have his case heard!”
“Good luck, scarecrow!”
So the man had no choice. He wrote at the top of the list:
Lord Scarecrow in the case of the ownership of Spring Valley.
No sooner had he done that than the door burst open, and in came a squad of policemen. At the head of them was a lean man in a black silk suit. It was the lawyer, Mr. Cercorelli, and he said:
“One moment, if you please. Inspector, arrest this person at once.”
The Scarecrow looked around to see who was going to be arrested, only to find the chief policeman seizing his road sign and trying to put handcuffs on him.
“What are you doing? Let me go! This is an outrage!” he cried.
“Go on, boy,” said Granny Raven quietly to Jack. “Do your stuff.”
“Oh, excuse me,” said Jack to the lawyer, “but you can't arrest Lord Scarecrow, being as he's already in the process of going to law.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It's true, Mr. Cercorelli, sir,” said the official, showing him the list of cases to be tried.
The Scarecrow shook off the handcuffs and dusted himself down with great dignity as a bell rang to summon everyone into the courtroom. Mr. Cercorelli withdrew to talk urgently to a group of other lawyers in a huddle by the door. Jack watched them closely and saw them all leaning over Mr. Cercorelli's shoulder to read the name of the Scarecrow's case; but as soon as they read it, they all smiled and nodded with satisfaction.
Oh, blimey, he thought.
Then he heard the man at the desk say something and turned to say, “I beg your pardon?”
“I said you're in luck,” said the official to Jack. “This is a very distinguished judge you're up in front of. He's the most learned judge in the whole of the kingdom.”
“What's his name?” said Jack as the doors opened and the clerk of the court called for silence.
“Mr. Justice Buffaloni,” said the official.
“What?”
But it was too late to withdraw. The crowd behind them was surging and heaving to get in, and Jack saw a lot of whispering and pointing and hurrying in and out of side doors. Soon the courtroom was full to bursting, and the Scarecrow and Jack were crammed behind a table right in the middle, with lawyers to the left and right, the judge's bench high up in front of them, and a jury filing into the jury box along the side.
Everyone had to stand up as the judge came in. He bowed to the court, and everyone bowed back to him, and then he sat down.
“I'm getting a bit nervous,” Jack whispered. “And Granny Raven's vanished. I don't know what to do.”
“No, no, Jack,” the Scarecrow whispered back, “have confidence in the law, my boy! Right is on our side!”
“Silence!” bellowed the clerk. “First case. Scarecrow versus the United Benevolent Improvement Chemical Works.”
The Scarecrow smiled and nodded his coconut. Jack put his hand up.
“What? What?” said the judge.
“Excuse me, your worship,” said Jack, “but it's all going a bit fast. Who are these United Benevolent Improving people?”
“Well, if it comes to that,” said the judge, “who are you?”
And he beamed at all the lawyers, and they all slapped their sides and roared with laughter at the judge's sparkling legal wit.
“I'm Lord Scarecrow's legal representative,” said Jack, “and my client wants to know who these United Improvers are, because
we never heard of them till now.”
“If I may explain, my lord,” said Mr. Cercorelli, rising smoothly to his feet. “I act for the United Benevolent Improvement Society, which is the body that holds a majority shareholding in the company known as the United Benevolent Improvement Chemical and Industrial Company, which is the operating organization that runs the United Benevolent Improvement Chemical Works, which owns and operates several factories situated in Spring Valley for the beneficial exploitation of certain mineral and water rights granted to the United Benevolent Improvement Society, which is a registered charity under the Act of 1772 and acts as a holding company in the case of the United Benevolent Improvement Chemical Works by tenendas praedictas terras.”
“There you are,” said the judge to Jack. “Perfectly clear. Now be quiet while we hear this case and find for the defendant.”
“Oh, right,” said Jack. “Well, my lord, I'd like to ask Lord Scarecrow to be a witness.”
All the other lawyers went into a huddle. Long words came buzzing out like wasps around a fruit tree. The Scarecrow smiled at everyone in the court, gazing all around with great pride and satisfaction.
Finally, Mr. Cercorelli said, “We have no objection, your lordship. He will, of course, be subject to cross-examination.”
“Scarecrow to the witness box!” called the clerk of the court.
The Scarecrow stood up and bowed to the judge, to the jury, to the clerk, to the lawyers, and to the public.
“Stop bobbing up and down like a chicken and get into the witness box!” snapped the judge.
“A chicken?” said the Scarecrow.
“It's a legal term, master,” said Jack hastily.
“Oh, in that case it's perfectly all right,” said the Scarecrow, and bowed again all around.
The members of the public, watching from the gallery, were enjoying it a great deal. They settled down comfortably as Jack began.
“What is your name?” he said.
The Scarecrow looked puzzled. He scratched his coconut.