Leapfrog, p.25
Leapfrog, page 25
part #5 of Bannister's Muster Series
“Blasted knee,” Henry complained. “How can I joust with my leg in agony. I have an open ulcer which will not heal.”
“Not in the dream,” said Richard. “You will fight without pain, and you must make the challenge, and you must win.”
They did not stay much longer, for a king always has a very busy day with continuous appointments and duties, so Richard and Nathan left, both content. “I don’t like him, but I think he’ll try hard to do what you asked. And he’ll win, I hope, for his own pride if nothing else. But you didn’t tell him whoever he fights is probably a wizard.”
“Certainly not,” said Richard, “I didn’t want to frighten him off.”
“But I can’t imagine it being Clebbster,” sighed Nathan. “He’s too old and bent. He couldn’t even sit on the horse. Sorry – I mean the llama. Nor Brewster. He’s too much of a joker. Perhaps it’ll be Wagster. But he’s an idiot.”
“Idiots can still fight,” laughed Richard. “Henry himself is most certainly an idiot in many ways, but he doesn’t surrender.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The thick glass jar sat on the kitchen table and everyone sat watching.
Watching closely, Messina said, “Can you hear me?”
Lashtang was a lot warmer than London and Westminster had been, but they had also built up a big log fire in the main living room of the cottage, and the warmth flooded through into the kitchen. Richard had gone to lie down, and so had Sam and Peter, while Christopher Columbus was in the smaller living room where he was studying his navigational charts, and wondering exactly when he could get back to sea, and prove his theory of reaching the spice islands around India. He was not at all interested in this strange business of a star in a jar, but Nathan and Poppy were avidly waiting for whatever Yaark might do.
Richard had not told Henry VIII that he had met him as the living king in the palace just the day before, and Henry was still in bed, while Henry V was out in the garden practising his bowmanship. On the other hand, the situation with the baron and his brother had caused a great deal of surprise, shock, and anger when they all returned.
“We were sheltering in the Tower gatehouse,” explained Nathan. “The weather was horrible. Well, you know, late November. Snow, wind and ice. Horrible. We had to go out into the mud by the river so we waited until it got a bit better and the snow stopped. Then Granny and Zak magicked us down to the Thames Estuary. Well, these things happen. We were in the Tower. They were in the Tower. And then none of us were!”
“And what am I supposed to do with these idiots?” Messina had demanded.
“Send them to the meteor,” suggested Granny.
But as yet both men were also in bed, delighted after four years of misery in the dungeons, to find themselves in warm comfy beds with hot food coming later, and no armed guards to shout and scream at them.”
“Let them stay in bed forever,” said Messina. “I need to think about Yaark.” She had send a message for Passleram to fly over, for he was the expert concerning the stars, and would hopefully know exactly what to do. In the meantime, Messina wanted to find out everything she could. Turning back to the jar, she asked, “Do you know Clebbster hates you?”
The small blue star gave one tiny little jerk, and then sank back.
“Well at least we know he’s still alive,” said Zakmeister. “But either he’s sick, or he’s pretending.
“Perhaps he hates sugar,” said Poppy.
Nathan shook his head. “I think he just hates us.”
At this the star moved again, with a faint blue glitter.
“Well, he’s sitting on my sugar,” said Granny. “I could pop him in a cake and see if he’s nicer after half an hour in the oven.”
Before they could see how Yaark responded to this, there were a tap tap on the door and Passleram flew in. He looked exceedingly pleased, and when he saw Yaark in the glass jar on top of the sugar, he looked even more pleased. “This is most important to us,” he said. “We have been worried about Yaark for long years. Now everything has changed. We shall take Yaark away with us, if you don’t mind, and keep him safely locked up for the time being. We must have a full meeting of the Parrot Council, and make a decision on whether we should destroy him or simply lock him away.”
Now Yaark was shivering. It was the first time he had seen Passleram for a very long time, and he knew he now faced an enemy. He lay flat and sank downwards, burying himself in sugar. Within a few moments, he could no longer be seen at all. Only the white sugary granules could be seen behind the glass. Two black and golden eagle eyes were staring through and seemed to be seeing more than Messina could.
“He’s hiding,” she said, “cuddled up in the sugar.”
“I can see the wicked creature,” said Passleram, clacking his sharp curved beak. His huge iridescent blue feathers seemed to ruffle in anger. Even though he called himself a parrot and was always extremely pleasant and polite, it was clear that when annoyed and faced with an enemy, Passleram could be very dangerous indeed. His long claws scraped the floorboards and he hopped up onto the table. His beak tapped at the gold screw top. “Do not think you are safe in there, Yaark,” the bird said, glaring into the jar. “I will take you back to the meteor, where you will face your trial. We may keep you locked under water forevermore. We may decide to destroy you utterly. We may send you far, far away, never to return. Or we may turn you into a jelly-oxen, to be our slave for the rest of your life.”
It was obvious that Yaark was shivering again, for the sugar began to crack and crumble.
“The other four nasty stars were killed by the volcano,” said Nathan. “They were mean too, but Yaark is the worse. But he has three friends, and I don’t know where they are.”
“Who was destroyed?” asked Passleram at once.
Nathan and Granny tried to remember the names and colours. “There was a purple one called Grublick,” he remembered. “That was mean. And pink, I think, Osplick, or something like that. But then there was an old black one called Flibweed, and I think that one’s still alive. There were eight altogether including Yaark, and they all had peculiar names. But Yaark was the worst.”
“I shall question this beast,” Passleram told him. “I will discover exactly what has happened. The other stars, clever, patient and wise, all wish to do good and help our meteor, and all the others which zoom close to us. They will all wish to question Yaark before deciding what to do with him.”
Looking from the window, the eagle called in the pack animal waiting outside. Messina twitched when she saw the little red ox, but she said nothing, and watched while Passleram tied the glass jar onto the red jelly’s back, with the help of Nathan who hated touching both the jelly and the jar, but wanted to help get rid of both as quickly as possible.
Finally, with a clack and a swoop, the eagle-parrot caught up the jelly’s body in his beak, and flew off back to the meteor. Everyone waved goodbye, with the deep and sincere hope that they would never see Yaark again.
By this time most of the others had decided to scramble from their beds. Sam was still in his dressing gown, but Richard, Peter and Poppy had dressed. The baron and Edmund Darling had not yet appeared, so Richard marched to their bedroom door, and kicked it open. They were both sharing a narrow single bed, head to toe, with Edmund cuddling his brother’s cold feet during the night.
“Useless creatures,” said Richard loudly. “Get up and offer your hostess gratitude and help for the day coming.”
The baron blinked. “Gratitude?” he mumbled. “We didn’t ask to come.”
“And help?” Edmund snorted. “None of you ever helped us.”
“You would have preferred to stay in the Tower dungeons?” demanded Richard.
“No, no,” said the baron in a scramble, and rolled off the bed. “That was the most terrible time of my life. But you should have sent us back to our own time in 1490. We were alright then and had our own home. Small, but comfortable. And we were friendly with the king.”
“Yes, Henry VII, the usurper,” growled Richard. “I should punish you now for supporting my enemy.”
“Not our fault,” sniffed the baron. “We just wanted to stay alive.”
“And carry on tormenting Alice?” said Poppy crossly, coming into the room behind Richard. “You wanted to do horrible things. You threatened to kill her after you’d stolen all her property. And it was Henry VII who said you could marry her, and made poor Alice desperate.”
“And where is she now?” muttered Edmund.
“In the house you tried to steal from her, in Bishopsgate in 1490,” said Poppy, flouncing out of the room. But her voice could be heard floating back through the open door. “Come and have breakfast, but I hope it chokes you.”
Although late in November, the sun was shining through the clouds, and streaks of bright blue sky dazzled behind the puffy white. No sign of rain. No sign of storms. And certainly no sign of snow.
“Wonderful weather,” muttered henry VIII, wandering into the kitchen at the small of food. “Funny, I dreamed last night of being king again, and meeting you, Richard. You sat and talked about jousting. Quite a weird dream. And I really felt I was awake.”
Richard laughed. “So which is the dream, and which is real? Or are they both dreams?”
Thinking a minute, Henry sat down with a snort, pulling his plate of eggs, bacon and chips towards him. “No doubt they are both reality,” he decided. “Chips have to be real. I could never dream anything so delicious.”
Granny was laughing as she served out the big platters for people to help themselves, and then sat herself at the head of the table. “But when you were king, you would never have helped yourself. The page boys would have served you.”
“True,” said Henry, “but they wouldn’t have served me chips.” He stuffed the first large mouthful into his face, and turned again to Richard/. “It was mighty odd seeing you in my dream,” he said. “That boy Nat was with you.” And he pointed his fork at Nathan. “But no one used forks. Very confusing.”
“As for the jousting,” said Richard, leaning back in his chair, “do you remember what I told you in the dream? It was important.”
Nodding cheerfully, Henry stuffed more food in his mouth, so full that he could no longer talk. It was Henry V who took over, saying, “Indeed, my new friends, if there is battle ahead, then I am ready. I have won every battle, even against the most terrible odds. All the great knights of France came against me and my soldiers beat them all. The French king wouldn’t come, you know, he was afraid he would break into little pieces. He was quite mad, you know, and thought he was made of glass.”
“The battle is ahead,” said Messina quietly. “None of us are afraid, but our enemy is not mad, although some may seem so. They are wicked and cruel, and they have great magic power. But some of us have magic too, and I do not fear them.”
“I shall gladly lead your men in the first charge, and show you how to win a war,” said Henry V. “To be a great warrior has always been my pride.” He sank back, closing his eyes and remembering. “Ah, the war cries went straight to my heart,” he continued, voice muffled, “Onward, onward, cry God for Harry, England and St. George. No evil invader will stand against me.”
“And I shall ride at your side, my lady,” Richard told her. “Do you have war horses?”
“No. War llamas,” Granny reminded him. “We don’t have horses in Lashtang. But don’t worry, we can all practise beforehand. I shall ask Zakmeister to bring up a troop of war llamas from Peganda over the next few days.”
All three kings looked a little shocked, but they were also interested in the idea. “Never ridden a llama,” muttered Henry VIII. “But I can do anything if I decide to try.”
“We have a thousand stables of llamas,” Zakmeister said enthusiastically. “And every llama is trained to charge, bite and kick the enemy.”
“We trained our destriers that way,” said Richard.
“As long as they know who the enemy is,” said Poppy under her breath.
Columbus had wandered into the kitchen for breakfast, but had hardly slept for two days, and so he now sat in one of the comfortable cushioned chairs, closed his eyes and began to nod off. Every now and again he muttered something about sailing the islands, and finding the people of India. No one took any interest. There were far more fascinating subjects to concentrate on.
Henry VIII was not aware of having sent the baron and his brother to the Tower, particularly since the initial order had come from Queen Anne, and now both men were clean and respectably dressed well in the early Tudor fashion, he accepted them as possible friends from the past.
“Jousting was always a passion with me,” he told them, “before my leg was injured. But now, strange enough of course and I have no solution for it, but my leg seems a good deal better. Either of you eager for a practice at the lists?”
Hugh and Edmund Darling both looked horrified. “We’re really past just energetic exercise,” the Baron said.
“Ah well,” sighed Henry, patting his stomach and leaning back, “perhaps I’ll just have you carrying my armour.”
Neither of them understood, so they nodded with attempted enthusiasm, and quickly sidled off into the garden, happy just to sit on the bench in the sun and imagine themselves free, happy, rich, and at home.
Their dreams were shattered when almost everybody came running out with real swords and wooden swords, bows and arrows, sticks and whoops, crying “To battle, to battle.”
Edmund fell off the end of the bench, but his brother hauled him back. Meanwhile Richard was teaching Peter, Sam and Nathan some basic swordsmanship, and Poppy was practising with the bow, helped by Bayldon. Columbus was muttering about the west wind, and both Henrys were arguing about the best way to inspire your men to fight for you. Granny, shaking her head, went off to bake a chicken, leek, cream and potato pie, and Messina stood watching all the hustle and bustle. Zakmeister and Sherdam were no longer at home, for they had whisked away to arrange for a whole troop of twenty five war-llamas to be sent to the cottage. Poppy’s third arrow had just got stuck on the cottage roof, when Zakmeister and Sherdam reappeared at the gate. Sherdam almost got the fourth arrow on his nose.
“The llamas will arrive tomorrow,” he said. “I doubt Alan will be pleased. You had better warn him, Bayldon.”
“Where on earth are we going to put twenty five llamas?” asked Richard, laying down his sword and staring at Zakmeister. “Especially if they’ve been trained to bite and kick. There’s not a single stable here.”
“There will be in a couple of hours,” smiled Zakmeister. “Come on Sherdam. Let’s show our building skills.”
They marched off to the large flat lawned area outside the garden gate, and a few folk followed, interested in how they were going to build stables, also knowing quite well that there was no wood, no nails, no hammers or saws, and in fact no supplies at all. But in only a few moments, the stables were half up, for both Sherdam and Zakmeister simply raised their arms, muttered a few words, and then began to discuss exactly how the stables should be constructed.
“Twenty five small stalls,” said Zakmeister.
“Not too small,” added Sherdam as a few slats of wood began to spin in the sky. “Those wouldn’t even hold the babies. Twice as large as that, please.”
“A trough in each for hay and grasses,” Zakmeister said, “and another smaller trough for water.”
“But larger than that,” complained Sherdam when a tiny pudding bowl appeared on the floor of one stall. “Half the size of the food trough, but just as deep.”
“Concrete floors covered in fresh straw,” demanded Zakmeister.
“And proper stable doors,” said Sherdam, “with the top and bottom able to be open or closed separately.”
“Painted blue,” decided Zakmeister.
“I prefer brown, like the wood,” said Sherdam, shaking his head.
“They’re used to blue,” said Zakmeister, also shaking his head, “because that’s what the official army uses.”
“But it shouldn’t be the same,” protested Sherdam, “since they have to realise they must obey us, and not look for their old trainers.”
Eventually everyone else wandered off, bored. Sherdam and Zakmeister continued arguing until the bright stable block was fully built, and looking very smart painted glossy black, which shone like Zakmeister’s face in the sunshine.
Early the next morning the llamas arrived. They galloped in from the magical road which had been specially erected by Granny and Messina, since the poor llamas would have taken a week and been exhausted if they’d had to run all the way from Peganda. Once they all stormed up to the stables, Messina clicked away the shining false metal road, which moved like a walkway at airports, only quicker. Although tired, the llamas were frisky, kicked at their new stable doors, and snorted at anybody who went to look at them.
Alan, in disgust, watched them from a distance, swished his little tail, turned his back, and marched once more into the house.
“The Octobr Regiment,” smiled Nathan, watching as everyone took a turn tossing fresh food into every stall, and speaking sternly to the occupants. “Do they have bridals and reigns and saddles?”
“Naturally,” said Bayldon. “Some people like to ride bareback, but we are not experienced llama riders at all, and need the full available comfort.”
“None of us even know how to put the saddles on,” said Poppy, looking a little scared. The llamas were all rumbling and grumbling, snorting and spitting while kicking at the dividing walls in their stalls.
“Oh, easy,” said Zakmeister. “I will teach you all tomorrow. Today we just have to get to know our new friends.”
“I’ve chosen that one,” said Nathan. “He’s beautiful.” The llama had huge sorrowful brown eyes and a thick white coat with one brown hairy splodge between his ears. “Has he got a name already?”
“Yes, they all have,” said Sherdam, and clicked his fingers again. Immediately the name of each llama appeared written on the lower half of the stable doors.
