‘Wait, my little warty one!’ she croodled, at the same time stroking his head with one finger. ‘When we have dealt with this obstinate animal, you shall have your bath in a silver bowl, with a scent of your very own choosing. Patience!’
With a whispering of silken skirts she strode across to the locked door.
‘Cat!’ she cried. ‘This is your last chance. Do you promise to be my servant, to do my bidding in all things? Answer, once and for all!’
‘And once and for all,’ replied Carbonel, and his voice was strong and clear, ‘as I have answered a hundred times before, NEVER!’
‘Think well, cat! Think well. Such magic wonders you would witness! Such wild, wicked adventures you would share, mounted on the swiftest broom, and you so black and handsome up behind!’ Her voice softened and became almost wheedling. ‘Obedience is not much to pay for all this glory! What do you say, cat?’
‘What do I say? Just this,’ cried Carbonel. ‘I want no share in your wicked triumphs, and your magic conjuring tricks! Never, never, never will I become slave to a common witch!’
‘A common witch?’ repeated Mrs Witherspoon, and her voice trembled with anger. ‘How dare you! For that insult, I would not keep you in my house one moment longer, for all of Solomon’s gold. Out! Out with you! And not a finger will I stir for the fate that may be waiting you outside these walls!’
As she spoke, Mrs Witherspoon lifted Gullion from her shoulder. John and Rosemary shrank back while she placed him carefully on the floor beside her.
‘Wait there, my pet, my gorgeous Gullion,’ she crooned, ‘while I unlock the door and send this foolish animal to his doom!’
She put the candlestick down beside him, and as she pulled up the key from the front of her crimson gown, John put out a careful hand and removed the box of matches. Still muttering angrily under her breath, she put the key in the lock. It turned with a grating sound, and the door began to move. ‘Now!’ whispered John. Both of them blew, and the candle went out. There was an exclamation of annoyance from Mrs Witherspoon.
‘Bother, the matches have gone!’ she said, and then she laughed.
‘What does it matter if I am in the dark? The rest lies with my little Cat’s Eye creatures.’ The Scrabbles were already squeaking and squealing with excitement. ‘Chase this rude ungrateful animal out! See him to the door of the hall, where Grisana will be waiting, and do not bother to treat him gently!’
Now, the moment the door was unlocked, unnoticed by the Scrabbles, Carbonel had slipped silently from his prison to join John and Rosemary in their hiding place; and while the Scrabbles searched for him in the dark, with renewed squeakings, Dumpsie slipped from the safety of John’s jacket, and heading for the staircase let out a mocking challenge. ‘Miaowk!’
‘After him! After him, my little Cat’s Eyes!’ called Mrs Witherspoon, laughing wildly. Unable to tell one cat from another in the gloom, the Scrabbles streamed towards the sound of Dumpsie’s challenge.
Under his restraining hand, John could feel the tightening of Carbonel’s muscles, and guessed his reluctance to let someone else attract the danger directed to himself.
‘Not yet,’ whispered John. ‘Dumpsie can look after herself.’
As the tapping of the iron paws of pursuing Scrabbles faded into silence, a shaft of brilliant moonlight shone through the narrow window of the landing. By its light, they saw Mrs Witherspoon lift Gullion from the floor and place him on her shoulder once more.
‘The moon has risen. I have kept my word! Was that not well done, my treasure, my Gullion?’ she crooned. For a moment she stood perfectly still, while the toad lifted his warty head to her ear. Then she let out a cry. ‘What? You mean to say it is not Carbonel they are chasing to the door? And it is those children again! It was they who blew out the candle? Why didn’t you warn me?’ She paused again as though listening to the toad’s reply. ‘But I couldn’t help it. I had to put you down while I unlocked the door. I can’t see the children now,’ she went on, looking around the landing in the moonlight. ‘Are you sure Carbonel is not still here? He may be lurking inside.’ She took a few paces into the prison room and looked round.
‘Quick,’ whispered Carbonel. ‘Close the door!’
John leapt out from his hiding place, closed the door with a clang, and turned the key.
‘Open the door!’ shouted Mrs Witherspoon from inside. ‘Let me out!’ She beat upon the unyielding wood with her fists.
‘Not yet!’ answered John. ‘Not until Carbonel is safely on his way back to Fallowhithe.’
‘You ... you odious boy, thwarting my plans yet again! But I shall be revenged, as I warned you, never fear; and beware! It will be in a way you least expect!’ She laughed again, and it was not a pleasant sound, but her laughter was cut short by the voice of Grisana calling from the foot of the spiral stairs.
‘Carbonel!’ she yowled. ‘Come out! I know quite well you are up there!’
All this time he had been standing very straight and still, waiting for John to give him the signal that it was time for him to leave.
‘Not yet!’ replied John to his inquiring look. ‘Whatever you do, don’t go outside the house. It is surrounded by Broomhurst cats waiting to pounce and take you prisoner back to Broomhurst. We must play for time, until Calidor comes with a faithful army from Fallowhithe. He promised to be here by moonrise.’
(I wonder why he isn’t here already, thought Rosemary uneasily.)
‘What, wait, and be branded as a coward? Not I!’ said Carbonel. ‘My thanks must wait till this matter is settled, and believe me I am grateful to you, and the noble animal who led the Cat’s Eye creatures away. But from now on, you must leave me to fight my own battle. Cat against cat, claw against claw. This is my war!’
As he spoke Grisana yowled again: ‘Carbonel! Come out, I say! Or are you afraid? Must I come and fetch you?’
‘I am afraid of no one!’ called Carbonel. ‘But I come in my own time, not at your summons. You may do your wicked worst, Grisana!’
And with that he ran lightly down the stairs.
‘Open the door at once, and let me go!’ shouted Mrs Witherspoon. ‘I have an important appointment to keep at midnight.’ John and Rosemary looked at one another.
‘Who with?’ shouted John through the door.
‘With ...’ began Mrs Witherspoon. ‘As a matter of fact, with a cement mixer. But you children wouldn’t understand.’
‘We understand all right!’ cried John. ‘To stop the builders building. All the more reason not to unlock the door yet! Come on, Rosie. Let’s go.’
The voice of Mrs Witherspoon followed them as they ran down the spiral stairs: ‘I shall have my revenge, never fear!’ But they had other things to think about.
24. The Battle of Tucket Towers
‘WHY in the world doesn’t Calidor come?’ whispered Rosemary anxiously. ‘It’s after moonrise. But even if Carbonel won’t let us help, at least we can try to rescue Dumpsie from the Scrabbles. Come on.’
Together they hurried down to the gallery, pausing at the bottom of the spiral staircase just long enough to take in that Carbonel stood alone at the top of the stairs leading down to the hall, and that Grisana crouched a few steps below, staring up at him through half-closed eyes with bristling back and flattened ears. The hall below was a shifting, jostling mass of Broomhurst cats.