Roland's Castle (19 page)

“A typical mining town,” Brother
Goodwill said, “– filled with hardworking people joyous in their
daily toil!”

"Slaves to the system more like,"
Botherworth said, in a bolshie tone.

“We can ask directions there,”
Roland said, “It’s not far!”

“It’s out of our way!” Botherworth
said firmly, “Beware the Nollynocks and the Grimbles!”

“So that’s where they are!” Roland
said.

That’s where they are, and where we
oughtn’t to go!” Botherworth said, and he repeated, “Beware the
Nollynocks and the Grimbles!”

“Firebrace said that too.”

“And he was right! Beware the
Nollynocks and the Grimbles!”

“Why? What can they do?” Roland
asked, intrigued more than worried.

“Its more a matter of what they can
make
you
think
you
can do,” Botherworth said,
cryptically.

“Well, we’ll just have to deal with
it,” Roland said, “If they start any trouble, we will have to fight
our way out, won’t we Savitri?” and he looked at her.

“Absolutely!” she said, and wielded
her sword.

“Some folks can only learn by
experience,” Botherworth said, rolling his eyes, “If I refuse to
go, I suppose you’ll just drag me…”

“Quite right,” Oliver said.

Botherworth muttered something in a
janitorial
tone.

As they grew closer to the village
they saw that a washing line was stretched out in a zigzag pattern
back and forth across the street, threaded through the upper
storeys of the houses. It continued up to the brow of the hill and
over it, out of sight. Along it items of laundry were being pulled
in the direction of the hill top, passing over it to the other
side. Occasionally the line reversed direction and items came back
again. The companions watched as the laundry zigzagged its way up
and down.

“What on earth is going on?” Roland
asked.

“It’s a sort of code,” Brother
Goodwill said, “How wonderful! If only I had quill and parchment!
Never mind, I think I can do without. Now let’s see, two pairs of
underpants, one sock, a shirt, a jerkin, errrm…. Yes! Something
about the strangers they have been expecting – prepare a big
welcome – very big – great excitement – do something or other to
mark their way as they come along the street!”

“You can tell all that from moving
laundry?” Oliver asked.

“I have a gift,” Goodwill said –
“which came in very useful in times past.”

It was too intriguing to pass up.
With Botherworth still muttering warnings under his breath, they
headed for the village.

As they entered the street a short
pair of long pants appeared at a window and was hauled across the
street on the line, starting on its zigzag way up the street. It
was followed by a line of bunting. As they walked up the cobbled
street the short pair of long pants kept pace with them, always
ahead, like a herald. Behind them the bunting was stretching out so
that the whole street was becoming festooned. When they got to the
brow of the hill the people in the houses rushed to the windows,
cheering, waving excitedly and throwing long pretty coloured
streamers down on them. Right at the top of the hill a line of
musicians came out of one of the houses, all playing a jolly tune
on brass instruments together with a big, booming bass drum. The
band marched down the street behind the short long johns and in
front of Roland and his friends. People started to come out of the
houses and follow them so that there was a crowd behind them, all
cheering.

They all arrived at the end of the
street to be greeted by a group of small men in smart, dark
coloured suits and dome shaped hats with brims. Some of the men
were unable to stand completely upright, whilst the others were
almost bent double. It looked as if they had all spent a long time
in a place with very low ceilings.

“That’s what being underground for
a long long time does to you – hundreds of years,” – Botherworth
explained, “The ones that can stand nearly upright – them’s the
Nollynocks. They do the hard work at the mine face, with pick and
shovel. The ones that can’t stand up straight at all – them with
the very long forearms – them's the Grimbles – they’re the ones who
push the mine carts in and out of the mines.”

As Botherworth finished speaking
the group of suited men parted in the middle and one of the
Nollynocks made his way to front. He wore golden chains around his
neck and acted as if he were very important.

“Welcome!” he said “We have been
anticipating your arrival for centuries! Finally! Outsiders
inspired
to invest in our little venture,” and he put his
hands together and clapped, starting a round of applause that
rippled through the group of suited men right out to the crowds of
people. The important-acting Nollynock puffed himself up and
continued, “On behalf of the Parish Council and people and folk of
The Parish of Saint Caragdeweller the Great and Less And
somewhere-in-between I am pleased to welcome you to our humble yet
proud habit-it-tu-tude-it-it-tations and to grant you the freedom
of the borough,” and again there was applause as the suited men
parted once more and a mine cart pushed by some of the Grimbles
made its way through to the front.

The important-acting Nollynock
picked up an enormous golden key that was placed on the rocks in
the mine cart. He nearly buckled under its weight and quickly
handed it to Roland who managed to hold it for a second before he
passed it to both Savitri and Oliver to struggle with.

“Many happy returns!” The
important-acting Nollynock said. “I now pronounce
us all
man
and wife!” and there was a burst of very loud applause from all of
the attending Nollynocks and Grimbles.

“Thank you,” Roland said, “but in
truth we came here for another purpose. We are looking for The
Whales Of The Sky…”

“A quest!” Said the man, “Then
you’ll be needing inspiration!” he said, looking at the cart.

“No, we need directions,” Oliver
said.

“But a bit of inspiration won’t go
amiss,” the man persisted, hopefully.

“Depends whether we want to be
inspired,” said Botherworth, “Or need to be…”

“Anyway, we don’t even know your
names,” said the man.

“Don’t give them your names,”
Botherworth said.

“Why not?” Roland asked.

“The fairies are tricky with
names…”

Roland told Botherworth “Firstly,
they don’t look like fairies, and second, telling them our names is
a proper courtesy and will do no harm. He turned to the man, “My
name is Roland and these are my
friends
, Oliver, Savitri and
Brother Goodwill, and this is, err , well… This is
Mister
Botherworth.”

Botherworth grunted.

“Welcome! We have prepared a feast
for you!” said the important acting Nollynock, and the men in front
of them parted to reveal an entranceway that led into a grassy
mound. The important-acting Nollynock indicated that this was the
way that they should go.

“I regret we don’t have the time,”
Roland said, “We have a castle and a village to save from some very
nasty people, and we have a friend who could be executed at any
time…”

“And don’t forget some vengeance!”
said Savitri, swinging her sword in her usual way.

“And the vengeance, too,” Roland
added.

“Mustn’t forget the vengeance,”
Oliver said, facetiously.

“Sounds important,” said the man,
“but I am afraid we really don’t know where these ‘sky whales’ are.
Of course, if you came in and spent some time in merriment, eating
and drinking, then meanwhile we can ask around and maybe find out
about them for you.”

“Alright,” said Roland, “but if you
can’t find out anything we must be on our way. Meanwhile, a little
food can’t do us any harm. I for one am hungry. After all, getting
here was hard work!”

Botherworth grunted and rolled his
eyes.

They followed the man into the
mound and down a very long, narrow, low-ceilinged passage lit with
flaming torches. At the end was a long hall, again with a very low
ceiling. In it long benches were arranged lengthwise. At the far
end was a table raised up on a dais beneath a very low ceiling.
They were ushered forwards to it, bending over so as not to bump
their heads. The important-acting Nollynock with the golden chains
joined them at the table along with the other men in the dark
suits, whilst the rest of the villagers filled the rows of long
benches. Almost as soon as they had sat bowls of steaming soup were
rushed out and placed in front of them.

“Looks good,” Oliver said

“Don’t eat the fairy food!”
Botherworth warned in a low but audible voice, “It’s page one of
The Underworld Explorers Guide! It’s a Code C Two-Eleven
red
alert
in the
Great Stith’s
handbook!”

“It’s just food,” Oliver said, and
tucked in. The others did the same. Botherworth sat and grimaced as
he watched them.

Plates of meat and vegetables and
flagons of drink were brought and consumed, then more and yet more.
It seemed as if the meal would never end. Oliver turned to
Botherworth, “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Not as hungry as you must be by
now."

Oliver wondered what he meant, then
he realised that he felt as if he hadn’t eaten a thing.

The visitors were too busy eating
to notice that the villagers were melting away into the darkness,
gradually, one by one. By that time they were far too happy to
care….

“This is a wonderful place,” Roland
declared, “It makes me want to create – to realise my dreams!”

“I shall write a poem and set it to
music!” said Oliver.

“And I shall paint a picture!” said
Savitri.

“And I shall build the most
marvellous new monastery!” said Goodwill.

“Uh oh,” said Botherworth, rolling
his eyes again.

Roland said, “I have always wanted
to be a sculptor. Imagine before me is a great block of stone, I am
walking around it now! I shall start to break off bits here – and
here – and here! The statue is already in there, waiting for me to
free it, to give it form, to give it life!”

“What are you sculpting?” asked
Savitri.

“You shall see,” said Roland,
taking up an imaginary chisel.

“I have never even played a musical
instrument,” Oliver said, “but I can hear the tune already in my
head. All I need is the means to write it down, if can figure out
how to write the notes - what about you Savitri?”

“Oh yes!” said Savitri, “I can
already see the painting in my mind. All I need is brush and canvas
– what about you Brother Goodwill?”

“First I must plan my great
monastery,” said Goodwill – “It will have all mod-cons for the most
modern and up to date monastic brotherhood - whilst still living in
poverty, of course. A hospital for the sick, worship areas for all
faiths and denominations, and a great big room for pure joy itself
– imagine – a room just for JOY!”

“Oh dear - oh dear - oh dear,” said
Botherworth.

“How long do we have?” asked
Oliver.

“As long as we need!” said Roland,
“As long as we need! We are free to create, to dream, to revel in
our fantasies!”

“Dear - oh dear - oh dear - oh
deary, deary me,” said Botherworth. Shaking his head and rolling
his eyes.

Roland started chipping away at his
imaginary block of stone.. In his mind he could already see the
finished sculpture – a fine replica of his father, looking like the
proud hero Roland always imagined him as; sword drawn, ready to
defend the defenceless and vanquish those who oppressed them.

As Roland chipped he did not notice
the broom that came up behind him, the broom with which he was hit
over the head with a ‘doink!’ The head of the broom was then neatly
hooked around his neck and he was dragged away.

Meanwhile Oliver was composing the
loveliest tune that had ever been heard – it involved harps and
dulcimers and citherns and all the other most beautiful, delightful
sounding instruments he could think of. He was composing it so that
they would all sing together in magnificent harmony that would
reach up, up -
up
to the very heavens so that the angels
themselves would hear it and start to sing along. The words he set
to it were of shepherds and shepherdesses in a pastoral idyll,
where Great Pan played his pipes to soothe all of his
creatures.

He didn’t notice the broom either.
Again it was sneaked up behind and he was hit on the head with a
‘doink!’ It was then hooked around his neck. He was dragged
away.

Savitri was imagining; it was to be
a bloody scene painted with slashing brush strokes, every stroke
most satisfying as it did bloody violence to one of the figures in
the painting.

Like Roland and Oliver before her,
Savitri did not notice the broom come from behind. It struck her
with a ‘doink!’ as it had done the two boys.

Brother Goodwill was thoroughly
into planning his monastery. He envisaged in his mind an enormous
building, “A monastery fit for a
king
!” he proclaimed,
“although we would not be so immodest and grand to think so.”

As with the other three, he did not
notice the broom that came up behind him, knocked him on the head
and which then dragged him off.

As he started to come round Roland
was having difficulty thinking about his statue. He now had a
nagging feeling that there was something more important that he was
neglecting. The feeling was growing inside him and made him feel
very uncomfortable. His dream seemed to be fading like soap bubbles
bursting and something was intruding into it. The something
couldn’t quite make up its mind what it was. It was like a bright
light, but it was also like a strong, sharp irritating sound that
kept on insistently. It was slowly making up its mind that it was a
squeaking, squealing noise, punctuated by an occasional grunt.