Roland's Castle (12 page)

“It seems so. The best things
always come in oversized packages.”

“Overwrapping is the scourge of the
age,” Oliver agreed.

“Now to see if I fit into the
armour,” Roland said.

He put on the helmet. The red
glowing “eyes” were still inside it, mounted in the visor but
Roland could see through them. They gave the world a strange, red
tinge. “Now the rest of it,” he said.

Savitri and Oliver helped Roland to
put on the rest of the armour, leaving the boots until last.

The breast plate was too big for
him and it reached down below his waist. As long as no one looked
too hard. It might be alright, probably, he hoped.

The castle blacksmith made some
extra shin pieces which were fastened onto the stilts. These would
give Roland enough height and wouldn’t be too obvious – unless
someone fell at his feet.

“That will happen after we win,” he
said, trying to feign confidence.

The “boots” were the last parts to
be fitted. They had no soles, the stilts simply went through them
at the heel, so Savitri and Oliver simply tied them onto the stilts
as best they could. They helped Roland up and he practised walking
about. It was difficult and at first he could only walk in a series
of jerks, but slowly he got more used to it.

“This is a crazy idea,” Savitri
said.

“Do you have a better one?” he
asked.

“Yes. Stay at home in bed.”

“I don’t feel tired,” he
replied

He was surprised to find that even
Savitri was against it. He had expected her to be determined to see
it though. It gave him more than a moment of doubt.

There was no time for it. After a
bit more practising it was time to be off. The evening had come and
darkness had arrived. An attack could be due as ealry as first
light – maybe even sooner, if uncle Dagarth was more sneaky than
usual, and the Spirus of the same bent. It was time to get some
spying done, and just hope that he could cope with the stilts.

“Why don’t you take them off until
we are there?” Oliver asked.

“No,” Roland said “I can use the
getting there for more practise walking on them.”

“Perhaps you need it,” Oliver said,
and again he tried reason, “Look, do you really think this is a
good idea?”

Roland did not reply, but simply
put his best stilt forward.

To go down through the Scary Oak
they needed to climb up the stairs of the tower. It was tough going
on stilts but Roland was determined to make it even though he
nearly fell backwards a couple of times. Once Savitri steadied him,
“You are doing well,” she commended.

“Not such a bid idea after all
then?” He asked.

“I didn’t say that,” she
replied.

They arrived at the lower door and
Roland removed the helmet so that Botherworth would know who he
was. He then he banged on the door loudly. After a fairly long
period Botherworth appeared in a – literally – moth eaten dressing
gown and slippers that exuded a particular odour. He looked up at
Roland’s face, obviously puzzled by his sudden growth spurt. “Do
you know what time it is?” he demanded.

“Yes, “Roland said, “We can tell
the time.”

“Well then, you should know better
than to be around here annoying decent grown up folk. You should be
in bed, all of you.”

“We aren’t tired,” Roland
objected.

“You
are
taller,”
Botherworth said, still puzzled.

Despite Savitri’s lecture on
toughness Roland decided that maybe a softly-softy approach was
worth one last go with Mr B. He could hardly say ‘Its good to see
you again’ as it wasn’t, so instead he tried, “How are you, Mister
Botherworth?” in the most charming tones he could manage.

Botherworth responded with, “Look,
if I told you I had a pain in my neck, pains in my back, a crick
somewhere or another that gets cricked a lot and a
pain in my
bum
that, oddly enough, is
actually right in front of me
and not where you’d expect it to be, would you really be
interested?”

“No,” Roland said honestly.

“Well, then, go away and mind your
own business.”

Roland pushed the door open and
shoved Botherworth out of the way.

“Good for you!” Savitri said to
Roland, as Botherworth headed off to his lair muttering complaints
under his breath – “Youngsters today! No respect! Its all the fault
of leftie educationalists - bring back discipline! The cane! That
never did me no harm! Except when it hurt. Made me into a useful
member of society, not like these young layabouts…”

The trio continued up the stairs
and knocked on the Fortressers’ door. It took a very short while
for Brother Goodwill to spring to their service. He was deliriously
gleeful to see them, as ever, “Good night, good night, good night –
no! Not to mean you are leaving, of course! I mean it as a greeting
– which it isn’t, I suppose…. Odd, that; good morning is a greeting
– good night means goodbye – as in go away! We don’t want you to
leave! No we don’t! Goodness no! Welcome, welcome – in!”

He opened the door so wide and
welcomingly that it almost broke off its hinges. Goodwill didn’t
even seem to notice that Roland was wearing a black suit of armour
and was nearly two feet taller. Roland explained, “We have decided
to undertake a bit of espionage. We are going to go into the enemy
camp via the Scary Oak – this is why I am disguised.”

“Oh! How thrilling!” Goodwill
enthused loudly. “A secret mission! I will wake all the brothers
and they can accompany you and cheer and sing as you go on your
way!”

“No!” Roland said, feeling panicked
at the idea. “It’s a secret mission! We can’t have people coming
with us and cheering and singing – it would give us away!”

“Oh yes, of course. Of course! It’s
been so long… I have quite forgotten how these things are done. I
have accomplished my share of secret missions in my time. Wonderful
experiences they are, all the lovely people you meet!”

‘And deceive,’ Roland thought,
wondering how many underhand secret missions Goodwill could really
have accomplished with such a positive attitude.

Goodwill seemed to have got the
message but as they walked through the hall Savitri suggested, “I
think we should knock him over the head, tie him up and leave him
somewhere just in case”

We can’t do that to him,” Oliver
said, “he’s so… lovely.”

“Lovely enough to get us all
killed,” Savitri said under her breath.

Brother Goodwill remained
un-trussed and it was a good thing as the trio had forgotten how to
get to the Scary Oak through the tangle of passages. They needed
Goodwill as a guide.

It was at the point where Roland
had to descend down the ladders and then through the tree that the
impractically of the plan became obvious. Doing so in a suit of
armour was all but impossible but with the stilts as well it was
quite out of the question. Roland didn’t want to take the armour
off only to have to put it on again in the midst of the enemy. He
put his helmet on so that he didn’t have to carry it and Brother
Goodwill bustled off to find some rope. With this they lowered
Roland down each level before descending themselves, finally
lowering him down through the trunk of the tree. Even then it was a
squeeze to get out at the bottom of the trunk. Savitri had
volunteered to go ahead and check that the coast was clear whilst
Brother Goodwill and Oliver lowered Roland down the final stage.
Goodwill was persuaded to remain behind “as a backup” (they told
him) but really they were concerned that his enthusiasm for meeting
and greeting people might give them all away.

The enemy were camped all around
the Scary Oak, but at some distance from it. Probably this was due
to them not wanting to set light to the overhanging branches with
their camp fires. There was quite a wide space left all around the
tree and there were no guards on duty around it. Why should there
be? The trio had successfully got around – over - the perimeter
with no fuss at all. It would make it much easier to pass through
the camp unnoticed as everyone in it doubtless still had that
comfortable feeling of impregnability.

Oliver and Savitri helped Roland
onto the feet of his stilts. Now he found out yet more about the
pitfalls of them. Walking around on a stone floor with them had
been one thing but on the grass of the hill it was quite another.
It was rough and tufted so that he found it all too easy trip. At
other places it was soft and he found himself sinking into it. On
several occasions he almost fell over and Oliver had to steady him.
When he tried to stand still he found that the stilts became stuck
as they sank down and he could only pull them out again with a
slurp and almost falling over.

“I thought this would be easier,
“Roland cursed.

“Which way are you going to go -
presuming you can?” Oliver asked.

“From the castle I saw an important
looking tent in that direction,” – he pointed – “You can bet that
is where Dagarth and his friends will meet up to scheme their
schemes.”

Oliver helped him turn in the
direction he had pointed. Roland started walking unsteadily.
Between him and the important tent were a number of smaller tents
and a couple of camp fires where the human soldiers were busy
eating and drinking and occasionally making a lot of noise, arguing
and fighting.

He thought that the cause was lost
straightaway. He walked up to the nearest tent and as he was about
to pass it a Spirus came out and got right in his way. He came to a
dead stop in front of it. For a few seconds it just looked at him.
Then, From deep inside the thing, came a noise like a piece of
metal being dragged over a gritty stone floor. It made Roland think
of a broken bell crying out in agony. He quickly realised that that
was how they spoke. He couldn’t possibly make a sound like that,
not even with practise and certainly not right now so he just
saluted instead, hoping that his gauntlet was tied on properly and
that it didn’t fly off. It didn’t, but for a second he imagined it
hitting the creature right in the visor.

The Spirus seemed a bit put out by
the fact that Roland didn’t say anything, but nothing more. It
shuffled off towards one of the other tents. Roland struggled to
regain some momentum as by this time his feet were sinking into the
wet turf but

Instead of moving off again he
tripped and fell over. Within seconds he felt hands on him and
thought it was all up, but then he heard Oliver’s voice. “What did
that thing want?”

“Just wanted to chat about the
weather I expect. I just hope they don’t know any good jokes - I
wont know when to laugh.”

“Want to give up now?” Oliver
asked, hopefully.

“No,” said Roland, “I can do this –
we have come so far.”

“And the dangerous bit is still
ahead,” Savitri pointed out.

“That Spirus didn’t cop me as an
intruder – that means I have a good chance.”

“It was probably too drunk,”
Savitri said

“Do they look like drinkers?”
Roland asked.

“They don’t look like any
teetotallers I’ve ever met either,” Oliver noted.

They got Roland back on his stilts
and sent him off in the right direction again.

He managed to walk past the few
tents and the camp fire without being noticed, although a drunken
fight between two of the human soldiers nearly got in his way. He
recognised the form of Serjeant Jankers rushing to put a stop to it
and was glad there was a distraction.

As he approached the important tent
he saw that it was not dark as he had hoped but instead was lit
inside. He could hear familiar voices coming from it. Dagarth,
Bril-a-Brag and Gloatenglorp were up late, arguing over plans.
Occasionally he also heard the metallic tortured bell sound that he
had heard earlier from the Spirus. One of them was in there,
presumably their leader, arguing its case with the rest of them.
Roland got closer, hoping he might overhear something by edging
closer to the side of the tent.

He had been standing there barely a
minute when he was suddenly grabbed by both arms. Two of the
Spirusses had seen him. They both emitted the tortured metal sounds
and then rushed him in through the doorway of the tent. In there,
Dagarth, Bril-a-Brag, Gloatenglorp and a Spirus all stood behind a
table, staring right at him. One of the Spirusses who had brought
him in “spoke” to the one behind the table, who presumably was
their chief. Gloatenglorp turned to Dagarth and Bril-a-Brag. He
could obviously understand their language as he translated, “This,”
- and he indicated Roland - “is one of the scouts they sent out
earlier.”

The chief Spirus said something to
Roland. Gloatenglorp translated for the others, “He is asking him
what he has found out.”

Roland didn’t know what to say and
even if he had, and had said it, his voice would certainly have
given him away. Right in front of him on the table was a map of the
castle and its surroundings. He moved towards it, raised a gauntlet
and started gesturing over it, pointing at nothing in
particular.

“I don’t understand what it’s
trying to indicate,” Dagarth said testily, “Can’t it speak?”

The other Spirus who had brought
him in spoke, obviously trying to explain something. Gloatenglorp
translated again, “They found him standing around outside. Judging
from the dents in his armour they think he was attacked and may be
in a daze.”

“Brain damaged more like!" said
Dagarth.

Gloatenglorp looked at Roland and
made sounds rather like the metallic sounds of the Spirus - as far
as any human could make such sounds. Roland realised that
Gloatenglorp was asking him questions directly. He started
gesticulating over the map again, trying to distract attention from
his silence.

“There must be
something
wrong with it,” Dagarth said, “Do they have gears or something? It
must be broken.” and he moved toward Roland to rap him on the
helmet with a stick. At that moment there were more metallic sounds
from outside and another Spirus entered, saluted and spoke.