The Curse of the Giant Hogweed (22 page)

“Aye, so they did, and with fortunate outcome for me, whenas I foresaw naught but misery. Ye have sworn a solemn oath to perform this geste?”

“M’well, yes, I suppose you could say that.” Letting the university pay for his plane ticket must constitute a moderately firm commitment, Peter thought.

“Then no word of mine can stay ye. But I shall miss ye, Bard Pete, ye and ye revered though somewhat peculiar archdruid and ye honorable Dan, who can eat even Ffyff under ye table. I feel a bond betwixt us, gin we be in some way brothers. Think ye we may one day meet again?”

“I’d bet my bottom dollar on it,” Peter assured him. “Now I expect I’d better go round up the boys and get our little show on the road.”

Not that he had the remotest idea where they were going; he only knew the time had come to go. Interestingly enough, his comrades must have got the same message. As he passed under the portcullis, he met both Tim and Dan coming toward him.

“Whither bound, mates?” he asked them.

“Hell,” said Tim, “we were hoping you’d know. Dan and I just decided we couldn’t stand the smell of rotten booze and eel grease any longer.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Peter. “I was coming in to see how you lads felt about pushing on. Have you made your farewells to King Sfyn and the rest of the crowd?”

“Sort of,” said Tim. “There was such a mob of granddaughters around the old coot we’re not sure he heard us, but what the hell? We figured if we hung around they’d think we were looking for presents and horses and whatnot, so we patted the griffin and cleared out.”

“I concurred with Tim in this regard,” said Dan. “It struck me that we had best go away with no more than we came with, although I did pack us a modest lunch from the leftovers on the banqueting table. Also, it might perhaps be deemed not out of order for you to keep the harp.”

“Nothing doing,” said Peter. “I’m going to hang my harp on a weeping willow tree and never, never play again. Oh, fare thee well for we must leave thee, do not let the parting grieve thee, and remember that ye best of friends must part. So long, Torchyld. Give our fondest regards to Lady Syglinde, and may all your troubles be little ones. Come on quick, boys, before he starts to cry again.”

They waved a last good-bye to the no longer unfortunate young knight, crossed the drawbridge, and let the forest engulf them. Any path was the right path, according to Dan’s reckoning. Apparently all they had to do was make themselves available and trust in fate to overtake them.

Fate didn’t seem to be in the mood, however. Nothing came in their way except a couple of curious rabbits. They wandered along the leafy glades, missing their new friends but glad enough to be rid of the troubles that had beset them since they’d crossed the bridge of time. They simply kept going until they were tired, then found a pleasant little brook, sat down on the mossy bank beside it, and ate the manchets and cold fowl Dan had thought to bring along. Plain water from the brook tasted fine after all that thick, flat ale they’d had to drink, first at Lord Ysgard’s and then at King Sfyn’s.

After they’d finished, Peter remarked, “Since we don’t appear to be in a rush to get anywhere, boys, I think I’ll just shut my eyes for a few minutes, if you don’t mind. I didn’t get any sleep last night.”

“Why not?” Tim murmured drowsily.

“I sat up keeping an eye on Princess Edelgysa. I was afraid she’d try to bump off Torchyld again. Not to mention Prince Dagobert and very likely her own husband as well. I don’t think she was much impressed by my having found that hawk bell. She’d got away with killing Dilwyn. God knows how but it should have been easy enough—some muck Dwydd cooked up for her, I suppose—and she was cocky enough to think we’d never see through the stunt she pulled on Prince Edmyr.”

“We might not have, had it not been for your keen powers of observation and deduction,” said Dan Stott.

“Oh, I don’t know. She was fairly blatant about it, really. The big problem was of course to stop her. Having got the bit in her teeth, she might have gone on till she’d wiped out the whole court.”

“Like a dog killing sheep,” Dan agreed. “Once they start, there is no stopping them, short of a bullet. Sad as it may be.”

Dan fell to ruminating. Peter fell asleep. So, it may be conjectured, did Timothy Ames. Perhaps all those naps he’d shared with King Sfyn lately had left him more rested than the others, however. In any event, it was Tim who gave the alarm.

“Pete Hey, Pete, wake up. I think I hear something.”

“Ungh? Great Scott, I’ll say you do? Dan! Dan, what does that sound like to you?”

“Eh? Oh.” Daniel Stott barely stopped to ruminate before he performed the unaccustomed act of leaping to his feet. “My friends, I fear we are about to be again overtaken by the giant hogweed. I suggest we depart this place with all celerity.”

“Cripes, yes,” cried Tim, “but where to?”

“Across the brook, one might think. The water may impede the hogweed’s progress.”

“But the brook only sprang from a spring up yonder,” Peter argued. “All the hogweed has to do is go around behind it and grow down the other side.”

“Well, we damn well better spring somewhere fast,” said Tim. “Here she comes.”

And there it came, a rustling wall of fifteen-foot stalks, nodding dirty white umbels and flapping ugly gray-green leaves.

“This way,” yelled Peter. “Let’s try to outflank it.”

Even as he shouted, however, the grotesque living wall bent itself into a horseshoe formation, throwing up wings on either side. As before, the hogweed was leaving them no choice.

They took the only direction open to them, the one in which the hogweed wanted them to go, and ran till they could go no farther. A solid rock cliff was blocking their way. Peter realized with despair that he recognized the locale. As the hogweed pressed in upon them, he pulled his companions with him back into the mouth of Gwrach’s cave.

“Oh my God,” Tim groaned. “Not this again.”

“Afraid so,” Peter grunted. “I just hope that old sow hasn’t managed to pull herself together. You don’t suppose we have any hope of finding our way through to the other end?”

“Gin ye will please to follow me, sires.”

The glow was back. “Great Scott!” Peter exclaimed. “Is that you, Medrus?”

“At your service, noble sirs. Pray exercise due caution amongst ye falling stones. They be jarred loose by ye pressure of ye hogweed against ye mouth of ye cave. Gin ye will forgive ye presumption, I recommend full speed ahead.”

“To where?” Peter demanded, even though it was plain to see that the crumbling roof gave them no choice except to go with the glow or stay and be buried alive. “Don’t tell us Gwrach is back in business?”

“Nay, Bard Pete. Gwrach be destroyed.”

“Then how come you’ve got your old job back?”

“I happened to be in ye vicinity and heard ye sound of pursuit. Hence I bethought me to come to ye rescue.”

“All by yourself, eh?”

“I be trained to ye job, sire.”

“So ye be. What happened to Lord Ysgard? Isn’t he still with you?”

“Lord Ysgard be within,” Medrus replied, flickering slightly. “Ye fact of ye matter be this, noble bard. As ye might have deemed, Gwrach accumulated a treasure of no inconsiderable magnitude by robbing her victims before she killed and ate them. Being, as ye wist, without employ or prospects, I sought to ingratiate myself with Lord Ysgard by apprising him of ye fact and suggesting he come to gain ye hoard under my guidance.”

“Whom were you trying to ingratiate yourself with when you set that booby trap for Sir Torchyld on the battlements back at Castle Ysgard?” Peter demanded.

The glow remained steady this time. “With Dwydd, honored bard. Gin ye come now frae ye castle of King Sfyn, ye have mayhap encountered a sorceress of that name. I wot not gin she hath by now encompassed ye death of Sir Torchyld, but I wist ere yet I met ye that Dwydd and my late employer Gwrach of malodorous memory had entered into a conspiracy to destroy him. Methought sin Gwrach’s plan had gone awry, I might gain favor in Dwydd’s eyne by acting in her stead. Thus perchance could I avail myself of Dwydd’s power over ye giant hogweed, in my geste to obtain Gwrach’s treasure. ’Twas but an idle hope, methinks, but I could not afford to let ye chance go by. A wight in my position needeth all ye help he can get.”

“Regardless of whose expense he gets it at, eh?”

“I but followed ye examples of my former masters, noble bard. Be an humble clerk supposed to ken better than his betters?”

“Cripes,” Tim remarked. “What do you want to bet this bird reincarnates as a Philadelphia lawyer?”

“I should not be at all surprised,” Dan Stott agreed. “But, Medrus, why did you seek to engage Lord Ysgard in your venture? Why not come alone and secure Gwrach’s hoard entirely to yourself?”

“Nay, noble assistant archdruid. Bethink ye, were a mere clerk like me to show his face in any town beladen with gold and gems, I should be clapt into prison as a thief and a rogue, and tortured until ye magistrates wrung from me ye secret of mine hoard. Gin I made Lord Ysgard his fortune through my fealty, I might hope at least to get a steady job out of it. He wisteth ye force of mine argument. Being himself somewhat low in ye coffers, he agreed to ye geste, and here we be.”

“Bully for you,” said Peter. “Have you found the treasure yet?”

“I had not to seek, sire. I wist already where it lay, having oft been forced to light Gwrach her way whilst she added ye purse of yet another luckless wight to her ill-got store. Picking her teeth with his rib bone ye while, belike. ’Tis one of Lord Ysgard’s more amiable traits that he continueth not to make loud sucking noises long after he hath broken his fast. Such habits be more trying to ye nerves of ye upper servants than ye aristocracy wotteth.”

“I can well imagine,” said Peter. “So where is Lord Ysgard, and where is this hoard of Gwrach’s?”

“Yonder,” said Medrus. “Observe ye large puddle, prithee.”

“M’yes, very pretty. Who changed you back into a glow?”

Peter hadn’t found much reason to trust Medrus during their earlier adventures, and he wasn’t inclined to do so now. He thought the recharged glow was probably telling the truth about Gwrach’s amassed treasure and why he’d persuaded Lord Ysgard to come after it with him, but he didn’t at all care for the way Medrus was evading his questions. He tried an innocuous one.

“Did you have any trouble finding the cave again?”

“Nay, Bard Pete. Ye little boat which had ta’en us to Ysgard brought Lord Ysgard and me back to ye landing place whence we four had embarked. Thence ’twas a simple matter to retrace ye path back to ye cave. My sense of direction be well developed, ye wist. Here be ye turning. Note that we be making much better time today, sin ye be more experienced in cave-walking.”

“I had noticed,” said Daniel Stott, who as usual was bringing up the rear. “I must say, however, that I find the experience no more agreeable than heretofore. Also, Medrus, I am somewhat confused by your narrative.”

“How so, noble assistant archdruid?”

“Imprimis, you say you had no trouble finding the cave again, and that you knew in advance precisely where Gwrach’s hoard was situated. It puzzles me, therefore, that with an efficient ferry service at your disposal, you have not already removed the treasure and made your way back to Ysgard. As we all know, me distance is not so great that you could not have made at least two trips by now in the coracle. Or you might have relied on that excellent sense of direction and brought back packhorses from Lord Ysgard’s stable if the hoard is too large to be conveniently removed by boat. Hence, why have you and he elected to remain in the cave so long? I find it hard to credit the possibility that you enjoy being in a situation that occasioned you so much misery in years past.”

“Oh well, one getteth used to a place, ye know. In point of fact, noble sir, Lord Ysgard hath suffered an accident which hath prevented our departure thus far.”

“Dear me, how distressing. Why haven’t you mentioned it sooner? Is he badly injured?”

“Nay, sire, I cannot say. Belike ye druids, having superior wisdom, will be able to offer an opinion.”

“Belike,” said Peter somewhat grimly. Medrus still hadn’t given a straight answer.. He was about to ask for details of Lord Ysgard’s accident when the tunnel gave its final wiggle, he saw the reflected flickering of firelight on the walls, and heard a familiar voice pouring out its mournful plaint.

“O WALY, WALY AND
welladay me, how I hate to cook. How goeth ye receipt? First catch ye victim. Aye, ’tis done. Disembowel whilst yet breathing. Ugh, how terrible was Gwrach’s handwriting. Did she really mean disembowel? Methinks he would soon stop breathing gin I made ye attempt, and then what? ’Twas a bad moment back there when yon scrawny servitor became a raging salamander instead of a disembodied glow because I misread ye words of ye spell. Had he but wist, he could have o’erpowered me at the moment. Then what would have become of poor Dwydd?”

They could see her bent low over a filthy parchment, picking out letters with a clawlike finger, sighing and shaking her head. “Ay me, for my cozy turret and ye banqueting board of ye great and bountiful King Sfyn! Yet here at least be I at last free from ye constant nagging of my wicked niece Edelgysa. Ne’er a letup twixt cockcrow and owl hoot. ‘Curse me this one with carbuncles.’ ‘Put me a murrain on that one.’ ‘Mix me a potion to effect ye demise of ye other.’ I still wish I had put yet another pinch of eye of newt in ye poison for young Prince Dilwyn. He died not peaceful and sudden as befitted his kind and gentle nature, but lingering, with mighty gripes in ye belly, poor lad. And Edelgysa cared not a whit, but rejoiced to have one less prince betwixt her Owain and ye throne. Alas, to be old and at ye mercy of rich relations.”

She shoved the parchment aside. “Well, this repining buttereth no parsnips. Gin
Ysgard en daube
be on ye menu tonight, I must e’en puzzle out this disembowelment ere ye guests arrive. ‘Tis only correct protocol to feed them ere I kill them. Now that I be mistress in mine own domain, such as it be, it behooveth me to maintain ye standards to which I be accustomed.”