Roland's Castle (13 page)

“This is another of the scouts they
sent out,” Gloatenglorp interpreted.

Let’s hope this one makes a lot
more sense,” Dagarth said.

It seems it did. It let rip with
the most appalling sounds, like a whole load of metal scrap being
dragged around a quarry. Once more Gloatenglorp translated, “He
says that they have located the lower water gate. We should be able
to take it and then we can drain the moat as we wish. It will not
matter though as the – and Gloatenglorp made a sound like the
Spirusses – presumably the word didn’t translate – can pass through
water anyway. However, our troops will be able to pass through the
castle walls after them with dry feet!”

“Grand,” said Bril-a-Brag.

“And this –“ and he tried to say
that word that Gloatenglorp had tried to say, “this
Zzzzzzarrrrrrrrblurrrrrrghzzzzzrrrrrr,” - his attempt to speak
their language plainly caused pain to the Spirusses as it didn't
sound dreadful enough - “has it arrived yet?” Gloatenglorp asked
the chief Spirus in Spirus noises. The chief Spirus replied, with
Gloatenglorp translating once more, “It has. It is concealed on the
far side of the hill.”

“Good,” Dagarth said, “Now I will
show that little brat nephew of mine who is in charge around here.
I’ll give him a whopping!”

The chief Spirus made the metallic
grating sound again and all the other Spirusses turned about and
walked out of the tent. Roland was left there with everyone else
standing at him, expectantly. He gathered that the chief Spirus’
words had been an order of dismissal and he was supposed to have
left with the others. That, however, was going to be a problem.
Roland’s feet had by now sunk deep into the soft, wet turf and he
found that he was unable to turn on the spot. As he struggled all
he succeeded in doing was getting his feet pointed in opposite
directions, with his legs crossed, whilst his body ended up
sideways to the table.

As Dagarth and the others looked on
in puzzlement he struggled to pull the other foot up whilst at the
same time fighting to maintain his balance. It wasn’t easy,
particularly as he had the weight of armour to try to balance as
well. Gradually it started to give. Dagarth and crew continued to
look on in increasing amazement and were even getting
suspicious.

When Roland’s foot finally came out
it did so suddenly. He found himself lurching towards the side of
the tent and had to keep putting one stilt in front of the other to
stop himself from overbalancing completely. He saw the side of the
tent rushing up at him and ended going head first into it. He fell
forwards and was wrapped in the canvas as he did so.

It took a few seconds for him to
recover from the fall. Judging from the angry shouts and sounds of
confusion that came from behind him he guessed that he must have
pulled the tent down on the lot of them. He was on the outer edge
of the fallen canvas whereas the others were struggling under the
middle of it. Because of this he was able to get out first,
crawling on his hands and knees. Dagarth and company were now
guaranteed to investigate thoroughly the suspicious Spirus who had
pulled down the command tent. Roland knew it was pointless to try
and right himself with the stilts on so he quickly untied them and
took them off, together with as much of the armour as he could.
Meanwhile the shouts from under the canvas were inevitably
attracting attention. He could hear his uncle shouting, “What the
blazes! I thought they were warriors, not a troupe of clowns! When
I get out of here I am going to have it’s armour melted down for
scrap and whatever’s inside flayed on a rack!”

It was time to leave, and
hastily.

Without the stilts Roland was now
able to stand up. He did so and started to run as fast as he could
back to the Scary Oak. Behind him he heard the sound of canvas
ripping and guessed that those underneath it had worked out that
the best way to escape was to cut their way out with swords. In a
few seconds he heard Bril-a-Brag shouting, “There it goes and now!
That must be it – its running away - but it’s shrunk! It’s two feet
shorter than it was a minute ago! What on earth is going on?”

And Dagarth yelled, “It’s that boy!
I don’t understand how but I know it is! The little scoundrel! when
I get him by the scruff…”

With the rumpus of the command tent
the rest of the camp were coming to action stations. The chase was
on and Roland found himself ducking and weaving to avoid groups of
solders trying to catch him. He dived under a cart and emerged the
other side free of one group of pursuers, only to pick up another
group. More were in front but he managed to evade them by throwing
himself down the hillside and rolling into the bushes. There he was
able to catch a few moments of breath whilst they searched for him.
The noise and confusion in the camp was continuing and he could
hear the voices of Bril-a-Brag, Dagarth and Gloatenglorp shouting
orders and generally adding to the chaos. Eventually it went quiet
and Roland thought – hoped - it would/might be safe to move
again.

He fought his way through the
bushes towards the Scary Oak. Once there the way seemed clear so he
leapt out and ran across the clearing. In front of him were Oliver
and Savitri standing by the Scary Oak. The moment Oliver saw Roland
he yelled out, “Go back! It’s a trap!”

But it was too late. Savitri drew
her sword and out of the nearby bushes sprang a group of
Bril-Brag’s men. They wrestled Roland to the ground. The pursuers
from the tent caught up and as they did so Savitri spoke, saying to
Bril-a-brag, “I did as you commanded my lord. I have found out the
secrets of the castle. I took this foolish boy into my confidence
and he told me everything.”

“Well done Savitri, well done,”
Bril-a-Brag said.

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 like you
two.”