Authors: Michael de Larrabeiti
The Borribles (15 page)
‘Isn’t it marvellous how they can’t talk properly?’ said Vulge, giving the ropes a really good pull and a tug to make sure the prisoner couldn’t escape.
The Borribles sat round the prisoner in a semicircle and even those who had been dozing woke up and approached the captive; for most of them it was their first close look at the enemy.
‘Right,’ said Bingo cheerfully to the Rumble, ‘we’re going to ask you some interesting questions, and you’re going to give us some interesting answers. If you don’t keep us amused, if we should get in the slightest bit bored, I shall give you to Sam to eat. He likes hay.’
‘Sam’s the horse,’ said Chalotte.
‘Aaaaagh,’ groaned the Rumble.
‘Well that’s bloody boring for a start,’ said Vulge. ‘If he’s going to say nothing but “Aaaaagh” all the time, we might as well give him to Sam straight away.’
Sam the horse, hearing his name mentioned so often, ambled across to the group of Borribles and stood contentedly looking over their shoulders, munching. He looked at the furred creature with a certain amount of appetite, for it is a fact that horses enjoy eating Rumbles, finding that they taste like well matured hay, good and sweet and nourishing. The Rumble shrank back in his bonds. Though normally as brave as anyone, understandably enough neither he nor any of his kind could bear the sight or smell of a horse.
‘Don’t let him near me,’ he shrieked. ‘I’ll talk, I’ll tell you evewything, only don’t let him touch me.’
Vulge looked round the half circle of his friends. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘at least that’s better than “Aaaaagh”.’
‘How many Rumbles in your bunker?’ asked Torreycanyon.
A thin yellow tongue appeared briefly along the slit in the Rumble’s snout. ‘There’s hundweds, certainly, maybe more, but we’re only one bunker, the main one, but there are others too, all interconnected.’
‘And the High Command, the eight top names, they’re in your bunker, aren’t they?’ asked Sydney, her voice cool.
‘You know about the Eight?’ asked the Rumble, seized by a sudden terror. ‘Then you’re not ordinawy childwen, you’re—’
‘That’s wight, my old china,’ scoffed Vulge, ‘we’re howwible Bowwibles. You ought to listen when we talk to you.’
And the Rumble did listen, for the questioning went on all through the afternoon, with the prisoner gradually coming to realize that this was indeed the Great Rumble Hunt that had been promised, and dreaded, for so many years.
As the hours went by the Borribles found out many things. The Rumble that Knocker and Lightfinger had captured all that time ago had returned alive to Rumbledom country. His story had struck fear and dismay into the hearts of all Rumbles, young and old, male and female. But that fear had hardened into anger, and the dismay had crystallized into resolution, and the Rumbles had looked about them.
At first the High Command, following the general mood, had overreacted, conscripting all their able-bodied animals into the Warrior Corps. Training had been intensive and Rumble scouts had been sent out regularly as far as Southfields and even to Wandsworth Common, for the Rumbles had expected a mass invasion. This impression had been conveyed to them by Timbucktoo. He had led his compatriots to believe that a vast horde of Borribles was on the march and that all of Borrible London was in a state of war.
But the weeks had gone by and there had been no sign of the enemy. The Borrible threat receded in the mind of the ordinary Rumble. The scouts deserted their posts and returned to the life of comfort and ease to which, to tell the truth, they were well used. Patrols still went out to Southfields and such, but Rumbles dislike the streets as much as Borribles
hate the countryside and so the patrols had become less frequent and more inefficient.
hate the countryside and so the patrols had become less frequent and more inefficient.
Most Rumbles completely forgot the menace of the Great Rumble Hunt, others suggested that it had only been a vain threat made in anger, one that the Borribles could never sustain. Anyway, thought the average Rumble, if he thought about it at all, those Borribles are mean snivelling little dirty things, they could never make the long and perilous journey to Rumbledom, they don’t possess the wherewithal, the knowledge, the brains. They couldn’t mount such an expedition with their resources. They live in rotten little streets and barely scrape a living. They have enough to do to stay alive. No, they argued, the vast domain of Rumbledom, on top of the great hill, on top of the world, is safe.
But the Rumble High Command did not see the problem in quite the same way. They had been threatened, and though the threat might only be an idea as yet, it was an idea of their overthrow and a great danger lurked in it. It was a concept that could lead only to disaster if nothing was done. Furthermore, they felt, they had a perfect right to go wherever they wished, beholden to no one, and that right must be defended.
So the High Command had made a plan, emanating from their chief and dictator, Vulgarian. They must strike before they were struck; destroy the Borribles of Battersea before their idea could take root and spread. A large force of crack warriors could be equipped for a night attack on Battersea High Street, to seek out and destroy any Borribles they found and obliterate the Borrible war machine that Timbucktoo had assured them was being prepared.
Warriors had been put into special training and were ready to undertake the long journey. They had not the slightest intention of marching those many miles; they already had one motor car and only awaited the delivery of others before setting out. They intended to strike with speed and in several places at once, causing as much panic and destruction among the Borrible population as possible.
In addition to such offensive measures, the Rumbles had seen to their own defences and reviewed the whole situation. There were only two entrances to the main bunker, and both were guarded day and night. Rumbles, it was said, never let go of anything, and they would hang on to Rumbledom like grim death. What had never occurred to them was that a tiny force of chosen Borribles would infiltrate their territory and
attempt to assassinate the High Command and so leave the Rumbles leaderless and ineffective. Thus the Adventurers found that the element of surprise was with them; no one knew of their arrival. That was the good news; the bad news they already knew: they were hopelessly outnumbered and retreat, even if they succeeded in their task, would be impossible.
attempt to assassinate the High Command and so leave the Rumbles leaderless and ineffective. Thus the Adventurers found that the element of surprise was with them; no one knew of their arrival. That was the good news; the bad news they already knew: they were hopelessly outnumbered and retreat, even if they succeeded in their task, would be impossible.
When the Borribles were satisfied with their interrogation they moved away from their prisoner so they could talk without being overheard. They leant against the trees and discussed matters, scanning the horizon at the same time.
‘Well,’ said Bingo, ‘how are we going to play it?’
‘What our friend forgot to mention,’ said Knocker, ‘is that although there are only two entrances to the bunker, there is in fact a ventilation shaft that comes out above the kitchens. It’s in Spiff’s notes. I think that’s the way we—I mean you—should go in.’
‘Wait a minute,’ interrupted Stonks. ‘My target is the doorkeeper. I’ll have to go in through the door, otherwise I might not find him.’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ cried Torreycanyon. ‘We can make a diversionary attack on both doors, just a couple of us, and the main body can get in through the ventilator.’
‘Here comes ‘Rococco,’ said Stonks. ‘Running.’
‘I hope,’ said Sydney, ‘it’s not bad news.’
Orococco stopped a few yards from the copse, turning to make sure no one was watching before he slipped into the trees.
‘Hello,’ he panted, ‘everything okay?’
‘We’re just talking about how to attack,’ said Napoleon. ‘Any trouble?’
‘Nah,’ answered the Tooting Borrible. ‘I’ve just been for a little runaround, see what I could see.’
‘And what did you see?’ said the Wendle.
‘Well, I don’t think they know we’re here. I saw a couple of them wandering about with their Rumble-sticks, but they didn’t look worried, just stooging up and down. I found the two entrances to the place, and I found out where the ventilation comes out, on top of a hill. It will be a piece of duff.’
Napoleon turned from listening to the Totter and looked at Knocker, suspicious again. ‘And what will you be up to during the attack, eh?’
‘Adolf and me will help cause as much confusion as possible,’ answered Knocker, avoiding eye contact with the Wendle.
‘Not half,
verdammt
,’ agreed the German. ‘Alarm and confusion and mayhem … that I am good at.’
verdammt
,’ agreed the German. ‘Alarm and confusion and mayhem … that I am good at.’
Napoleon scowled, unconvinced. ‘Just don’t interfere, Knocker,’ he said. ‘I still don’t trust you.’ He took out his catapult and affected to examine the thick rubber on it. ‘Well, what about Torrey’s plan?’
The discussion continued and during the next half an hour several ideas were weighed in the balance until at last Torreycanyon’s plan was adopted unanimously. Then, feeling that they had accomplished something, the Adventurers returned to the clearing. There a surprise awaited them. The Rumble had disappeared, even the ropes that had bound him were gone.
‘Who tied him up then?’ Napoleon shouted at Vulge, anger tightening his face. ‘Now we’re in trouble. He’ll tell ’em everything; they’ll be waiting for us.’
Vulge looked guilty. ‘I made sure he couldn’t get free.’ He glanced at the others. ‘Really I did.’
‘Bloody well looks like it, don’t it?’ said Napoleon. ‘Idiot. If he gets back to his bunker we’ve had it.’
‘Don’t panic,’ said Sydney, and she giggled. ‘Look at Sam.’
The horse was lying on the ground at the edge of the clearing with a stupidly contented expression on his long face. From his mouth dangled a frayed bit of rope, swinging gently with the movement of his champing jaws.
‘Well, strike me pink,’ cried Adolf. ‘Sam’s eaten him.’ And he hooted.
‘Would you Adam-and-Eve it?’ said Stonks. ‘So he has, the sly old rogue.’
‘That makes one Rumble less,’ said Napoleon. ‘I was wondering what we were going to do with him.’
Sam shook his head and snickered, then he gave a neigh of pleasure, rolled over, stuck out his legs and promptly closed his eyes. It was an excellent idea, and while most of the Adventurers followed suit, Knocker, Adolf and Chalotte volunteered for the first two hours of guard duty: two hours for them to gaze across the chill expanses of inhospitable Rumbledom, two hours for them to think of the coming battle.
It was cold now and high up on the hill the air was sharp-edged and brittle. No wonder those Rumbles have fur coats, thought Knocker, as he watched and shivered. Nothing moved in the vastness.
Chalotte came and leant against a tree nearby. She didn’t look at Knocker at first, but kept watch over the green land where the advancing mist of dusk was making it difficult to distinguish between trees and gorse bushes, pathways and grass.
‘It’s going to be dangerous, isn’t it?’ she said. It wasn’t a question.
‘We always knew some of us wouldn’t survive,’ answered Knocker.
‘I sometimes think,’ said Chalotte, ‘that we’re not really meant to go in for this kind of adventure. It would be nice to go back to being just a Borrible, living in our broken-down houses. You know the proverb, “Fruit of the barrow is enough for a Borrible.” I mean this adventure has turned out to be far beyond what we normally do. It’s suicide.’
‘Wait a minute,’ protested Knocker, surprised. ‘This is the greatest adventure we’re ever likely to hear of, let alone go on.’
‘Hmmmm.’ She sounded unconvinced. ‘You ought to make it clear to the others that by this time tomorrow they’re likely to be dead. Who wants to die for a name? That was never Borrible.’
‘Fruit of the barrow may be all right, but we’ve got to have adventures, too. Look, if you hadn’t come on this one you wouldn’t have seen Dewdrop and Erbie and learned what happens to us when we get caught. We’d have heard about it, but now we’ve seen it, we know.’
‘Yes, but supposing Spiff got it all wrong; supposing those Rumbles just came down on a spree, just to visit the park, not take over all of Battersea, like he said. What then, eh? It would be silly, just them scared of us and us scared of them.’
‘Oh, that’s rubbish,’ said Knocker. ‘Old Spiff don’t make cock-ups like that, he just don’t. He has studied the Rumbles for years, he knows them inside out. I mean, do you think the Wendles don’t know what they’re up against? Flinthead is like he is because of the Rumbles. They’d take Wandsworth over if they had a chance, Battersea too.’
‘You admire Spiff too much,’ said Chalotte. ‘You believe everything he says. He might have set us up for this … had his own reasons … He’s a mystery, he is, and I don’t like mysteries. After all, how important is a name? You’ve got one and yet you’re going on a suicide mission for another.’ She shook her head, glanced at Knocker, and then said
what was really on her mind. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there? Something secret, that you know and Spiff knows. Ordinary expeditions are fine adventures, a bit of a laugh, but this one is making us like the Wendles, and that can’t be good, can it? The things we are doing might look right now but they could turn out wrong in the end.’
what was really on her mind. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there? Something secret, that you know and Spiff knows. Ordinary expeditions are fine adventures, a bit of a laugh, but this one is making us like the Wendles, and that can’t be good, can it? The things we are doing might look right now but they could turn out wrong in the end.’
Knocker turned nasty. ‘You and Sydney have really pulled your weight all along. I didn’t believe you could at the beginning, but you have. Are you going to spoil it all now by being scared?’
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