Roland's Castle (20 page)

“My beautiful poem!” Oliver cried,
feeling it seeping from his mind, like sand flowing through his
fingers. He was experiencing the same as Roland; his dreams of
music and poetry now totally interrupted and destroyed by a sullen
feeing that it wasn’t what he should be doing, punctuated by a
terrible squeaking noise that ripped right through his
concentration.

Savitri was finding herself getting
more and more annoyed. She wanted to express her anger in painting,
yet now felt that there was something not right about it at all,
that the real battle was not with brush and canvas but with a real
sword, on a real battlefield, with real enemies. Then there was
that terribly annoying scraping, squeaking noise that kept
intruding right into her brain, stopping her thinking.

Where is my lovely, beautiful,
joyous monastery going, thought Brother Goodwill, who felt it
running away from him just as if it were on wheels, running
downhill, starting slowly but speeding up, always out of his grasp
as he frantically chased after it. At the same time the feeling was
growing within him that this was the wrong time, the wrong place
for such a project. There was something else far more important
that had to be done first.

“But the monastery would have been
so wonderful,” he wailed, “so wonderful!”

“Wouldn’t it just!” Botherworth’s
rude voice intruded. Goodwill awoke and looked about him. He was in
a wooden cart – a mine cart, being bumped along a track. Roland,
Savitri and Oliver were piled in with him.

Botherworth was pushing them in the
mine cart. It was a bumpy journey and it had helped to shake them
all awake. Then there was that insistent, squeaking-scraping sound
made by one of the cart’s wheels that got right into your head…
Slowly their heads began to clear and they all began to look around
and take in their new situation. They struggled out of the cart and
staggered around, recovering their senses.

Oliver was the first to fully
realise what had happened. “You rescued us?!” he asked Botherworth,
incredulously.

“Yep!” said Botherworth, in a
matter of fact way.

Roland asked, “Rescued us from
what? What happened?”

Botherworth explained, “That back
there is an inspiration mine, mining pure inspiration. The
Nollynocks and the Grimbles have built up an unhealthy tolerance of
it, but it doesn’t stop them wanting to share it with others…”

“But I don’t understand. You could
have gone just back to the tower and left us…”

Botherworth told them, “Folks up
the tower is my responsibility. Whatever the mess they get into
through their own folly and despite my warnings, my job is to come
and sort it out and rescue ‘em. If they get stuck in the loos, I
have to come and free ‘em, if they eat a dose of pure inspiration,
I got to come and hit ‘em over the head with this – ‘ere broom,”
—and he brandished it — “and hoik ‘em out before any real harm can
come to ‘em…”

“You did your job very well,” said
Roland, “very well indeed. Thank you, though I must confess that I
am not really sure what came over you.”

“It’s obvious,” Oliver said, “He
was inspired to! He was inspired enough to do his job without any
extra
inspiration!”

“Do me a favour!” Botherworth said,
and they all laughed.

“Anyone got anything to eat?”
Oliver asked, “I’m starving…”

“Where to now?” asked Oliver.

“I don’t know anything about
anything beyond here, so it’s no good asking me anything,”
Botherworth said, “ I s’pose you’ll still be wanting me to come
with you though,” he grumbled.

“I am sure we would all be grateful
if you would,” Roland asked, just in case we need rescuing again.
Please would you?”

“Very well, as you ask so nicely,”
Botherworth replied, and Roland thought he almost saw a smile on
the janitors face.

The track they were on lasted for
several miles and then faded out as the country became more stony
and sandy. It was also flatter than before, something for which
they were grateful. They continued to follow the direction that the
track had been headed until they reached a small hill which they
decided to climb to get better bearings. From the top they could
see something glinting, far off. It stretched right across the
landscape and had the shininess of a sword. They decided to go and
see what it was.

They discovered that the glint was
caused by a pair of metal rails, stretching from horizon to
horizon. The rails had been nailed into hundreds of wooden cross
pieces placed at right angles beneath them,. It was a baffling
thing to find in the middle of a wilderness. It was a baffling
thing for someone to leave in the middle of a anywhere.

“What is it?” Oliver asked, “Some
sort of boundary marker?”

“I think it’s a type of road,”
Savitri said, “but I have never seen anything like it.”

“It’s a railway,” Botherworth put
in, “It’s for trains to run on. Locomotives pulling carriages or
wagons.”

“What? Explain.” Roland
requested.

“Think of a horse pulling a wagon
or carriage – this is a load of wagons or carriages in a train
being drawn along by a mechanical horse and guided by these
rails…”

“Sound
amazing
,” said
Roland, “But where are these trains?”

“Probably late,” Botherworth
grunted, “they normally are!”

“If it’s a type of road whoever
built it must have built something at the end of it,” Roland said.
The logic seemed inescapable. “We’ll follow it,” he said, stepping
into the centre of the track, in-between the rails.

“I wouldn’t walk on the track,”
Botherworth said, “Don’t ever walk on a railway. The trains will
come along fast – even if they’re late!”

Roland stepped off. He now had more
respect for Botherworth and his advice.

“Perhaps someone nice will come
along on one of the trains and we can ask them where we should go,
and they will be kind enough to tell us,” Goodwill suggested.

“Or someone nasty, so we can get
into more trouble,” Oliver said.

“Now you’re starting to sound like
me,” Botherworth told him.

“Oh no! I’d better fix that — right
away!” Oliver joked.

They started walking along the
track. In a few hours they came upon a long, sweeping bend which
seemed to last forever, only to find at the end of it that the
rails then started to bend back the other way. It went on like that
for while, bending back and forth. As no trains had come along they
began to relax and, despite Botherworth’s warning, they all started
walking on the track itself rather than beside it. It was easier,
once you got the hang of it. All you needed to do was step from one
plank on to another and once you got into the rhythm it was easier
than walking on the rough ground beside. Only Botherworth refused
to do so, and had trouble keeping up because of it.

They were on a sharp bend with
Botherworth now far behind them when they thought they heard him
shout something. It was followed immediately by a loud noise, like
a cross between a moan and a scream followed by a squealing and
hissing sound. . It was like the cry of a beast, but a cry no
animal could have made. They turned to see the most incredible
sight; a huge metal machine, belching smoke and steam was bearing
down upon them.

“Get out the way!” Roland yelled,
and they all scattered off of the tracks as it passed. It consisted
of several bits, all borne on wheels and pulled along by the first
bit — the bit which was doing all the hissing and puffing. It had
come up behind them and passed them — nearly run them down and
killed them — in just a few seconds.

“That, was a train,” said
Botherworth, rushing up to them as they picked themselves up.

“Incredible!” Oliver said, “How
fast was that thing going?”

“About fifty miles per hour, I’d
say.”

“Faster than any horse I’ve ever
seen,” Roland said, “And that thing at the front – that was what
you call the loco…?”

“It was a steam engine,”
Botherworth said, “Always rather liked them. I wanted to be an
engine driver when I was kid, but then steam was withdrawn. Another
point where things started to go pear…”

“There is a driver?” Roland asked,
“– as in a human man? Like a driver of a cart?

“Yeah! Of course! What do you
think?”

“That it was alive and went on its
own,” Oliver said.

“or driven by something like the
Spirusses,” Roland said.

“Oh no,” Botherworth confirmed,
Steam locos – human contraption! Beautiful! Give my right arm to
have a go on the footplate!”

“So wherever its going, there are
probably men like us,”

“And maybe women,” Savitri put
in.

“And maybe women too,” Roland
added. “Whatever, we now have yet more reasons to continue in this
direction.”

“It could go for miles, that
thing,” Oliver said. “We might never catch up with it.

“Nothing travels for ever. We will
walk until we do catch up with it,” Roland said.

Botherworth grunted once more.

They walked for a couple more
hours, then the track turned into two tracks, then four, then six,
and from then on into so many that the adventurers quickly lost
count. They were laid side by side, stretching from horizon to
horizon.

As they walked through the sea of
rails they heard the sound of singing on the breeze.

“Who would be singing out here?”
Oliver asked.

The singing grew louder as they got
closer, and they saw now that a large group of men were working up
ahead, swinging picks over their heads in concert. As the
adventurers got closer they could hear the words the men were
singing.

“Drill ye tarriers drill!

Drill ye tarriers drill

It’s work all day with no sugar in
yer tay!

On the Lower Plains of the Sky
Rail-way!”

There was a man with a wide brimmed
hat watching them work and occasionally bawling instructions at
them, “Put yer backs into it, yer
lallygaggers
! We’d a
crossed the Hassayamapa fifty miles back but fer all yer
slacking!”

As they went up to him he turned to
them and said, “Best darn crew I ever bossed! All good Irish lads
too! it’s a crying shame to see em treading water building
sidelines when there’s a
road
to be built – and all because
of them darn bandboxes! Anyways, what can I do for you folks?”

“We are looking for the Whales Of
The Sky, do you know where they are?” Roland said.

“Whales of the
what
?” The
man asked, and he looked up, “only thing I see in the sky is the
sun, and too much of that! Young Mister Brandon Junior might know –
that’s his private car on the siding.”

He pointed to the train that had
nearly killed them, which had come to a stop on one of the sidings
nearby.

“Here, I'll take you,” the man
said.

The tail end of the train had a
platform with steps up to it, then a door into the inside. On
entering they found a room with comfy chairs and a large writing
desk at which a man sat, with his back to them. The man with the
wide brimmed hat cleared his throat and spoke, “Mr Brandon, there’s
some folks here to see you, want to ask you about some whales,”

The man rose and walked towards
them, offering his hand. Roland took it and shook it.

“My name is Davey Brandon Junior,
assistant engineer of this railroad. How can I help you?”

Roland told him, “We are looking
for the Whales Of The Sky, do you know where we could find
them?”

“I heard something about them,” the
man said.

“You did!” Roland said, excited,
“Can you tell us more – like where they are?”

“My father talked about them. He
scouted this whole region when planning the railroad - he is the
real genius behind it.”

“Can we ask him?”

“No,” Brandon said bluntly.

“If we asked nicely?” Oliver
suggested.

“I doubt it, because you would be
asking Count Og-dra-gob. We have tried asking him things nicely
before and he doesn’t respond to nice.”

“Why do we need to ask Count
Og-dra-gob in order to speak to your father?” asked Roland, seeking
to get to the root of the matter.

“Now that’s a long story,” said
Brandon, “You see, we gotta have water for the locos and the only
water for a hundred miles in any direction is on the Count’s land,
so we gotta go through it. Only problem is he doesn’t want us going
through it. My father went out there to put up a windmill to pump
water. They wrecked that by tilting at it. Probably thought it was
a giant or something – they’re dumb enough! That was when dad got
kidnapped by the count and his knights. That’s why you can’t talk
to him, because he is a prisoner in Count Og-dra-gob’s
dungeon.”

“Bandboxes!” Cursed the man with
the wide brimmed hat.

“That’s enough McCann!” Brandon
said, “We may as well be civil about our opponents, however much
they may frustrate us.”

“Damn civility is the problem I
sez! A few sticks a dynamite would fix ‘em and their flamigigs and
we could go on…!”

“We are not here to fight a war,”
said Brandon determinedly, “Even if it’s what they want. We are
here to bring
sivilisation
, not destroy it. We are improving
this country and no single man should stand in our way, not just
for a load of silly war games – but we’ve got to do things in a
civilised way, nonetheless.”

He said to Roland and friends,
“We’ve been building this Railroad since Creation and hope to be
finished by Doomsday — or a little before. Two crews set out from
the same point headed in opposite directions and will meet up on
the opposite side of the world, providing a complete circular
route. We have a golden spike already cast for that moment-” and he
produced it from his pocket and held it up in front of them. It was
well worn, as if he had spent a lifetime or several caressing it.
“When we finish this spike will be
the buckle in the girdle of
the world!
” And his eyes gleamed as those of a
believer.
Then his voice sank and his eyes looked to the floor, “But it looks
like we might not finish at all – all because of Count Og-dra-gob
and his war games.” And he grasped the spike tightly and looked
crestfallen.