‘Dammit,’ swore Chalotte, and she lifted her fingers to her mouth in order to whistle a warning, but strong arms seized her from behind and for a moment she thought she’d been captured—then she remembered Spiff.
‘Keep yer mouth shut,’ he said. ‘It won’t do anyone any good to let Flinthead know you’re here. Just keep quiet and get ready to run for your life.’
On the platform, Bingo, Vulge and Sydney stood firm and made ready to defend themselves against the advancing warriors. It was
pointless; the derrick was too large for three to hold against so many and the Wendle warriors overran the interlopers after the briefest of struggles. They were disarmed, bound and thrown to the floor. When all was secure Flinthead was rowed over and helped on to the platform by Tron, his captain of bodyguards, the stern fighter who had commanded and led the attack.
Then the Wendles waited, silent and patient until, in the end, Stonks climbed into view at the top of the mine shaft, pulling three exhausted and slime-covered slaves behind him. It had taken all his massive strength to bring them up from the bottom of the digging and so engrossed in his task was he that he did not notice the eager faces above him. He raised a hand for assistance and the Wendles grasped it before Stonks realized that things had changed. He was quickly made a prisoner himself, bound with ropes and pushed to the floor to lie by the side of his friends.
‘Oh, Twilight,’ said Chalotte, the tears flooding her eyes, ‘this is awful, all of ’em captured. Look at those three covered in mud, the ones the Wendles are lifting out of the mine, that’s Knocker and Napoleon and Orococco. Hell, they’re so weak they can hardly stand.’
What Chalotte said was true. The captives swayed and blinked stupidly in the light. They were caked in mud, months of mud, it was ground into their skins like a paste of graphite. Their hearts had filled with joy at Stonks’s unexpected arrival and in some unknowable and resolute part of their minds they had discovered strength enough to climb the long ladders upwards, only to find Flinthead waiting for them. It was one of life’s rotten jokes and their dejection was total.
The Wendle chieftain laughed like a car-crusher. ‘I knew well that something was happening here,’ he crowed, ‘and look what we have. Another four of them, brought here by greed, trying to steal what is rightfully ours. Well, brother Wendles, they will help us now, help us in our struggle to dig the mine.’
Stonks began to fight against his bonds and he swore at Flinthead. ‘You snot-gobblin’ little shit-eater,’ he cried, ‘you no-name pig.”
Flinthead was delighted and one of his guards kicked Stonks in the ribs.
‘He’s the strongest one, isn’t he?’ said the chieftain. ‘I remember his name from last time … Stonks. He’s the one who broke open the Great Door of Rumbledom, he’ll be just right for the treadmill. Put a good man on the whip. I’ve waited too long for my treasure, maybe now things will move a little faster.’
‘What do you want done with the old ones?’ asked Tron. ‘Shouldn’t we let them go? They don’t look as if they could work another day.’
‘Send ’em back down,’ said Flinthead, ‘they can work till they die. Shackle ‘em all up and over the top with ’em.’
The new prisoners kicked at their captors as their legs were manacled together with heavy chains, but the others, those they had gone to rescue, had not a word to say. Their muscles had striven beyond pain and their minds were submerged below thought. They knew how to dig and they knew no other thing. When they were ordered to clamber back into the mine they did so in abject silence. Flinthead watched and smiled; that silence was his glory! How were the mighty fallen.
‘And let me warn you,’ he said. ‘If those buckets come up empty of mud I’ll make an example of those two in the treadmill. I’ll send ’em down to you headfirst, like you did with my guards. I want that treasure and I want it quick. You’ll soon learn—no mud coming up, no food going down.’
‘We’ll get you one day,’ shouted Bingo as he was forced on to the ladder with the others, ‘and I’ll have your nose off and slice it up like a side of bacon.’
Flinthead did not wait to swap insults. ‘Double the sentries everywhere,’ he shouted, ‘twenty on each towpath too.’ Then he stepped into his skiff and was conveyed to the river bank, his bodyguard following.
On the shore he was greeted by a multitude of excited Wendles. News of the attempted rescue and its failure had travelled fast. Flinthead was cheered till the roof resounded and there was great confusion as the crowd struggled to approach their leader, to touch him, to look at him.
Chalotte and Twilight had been completely disheartened by the turn of events but now they came out of their tunnel to stare as the
bodyguard cleared a path through the mob. Chalotte fingered the knife at her belt and wondered if she should assassinate the Wendle chieftain there and then, but Twilight saw the movement of her hand and guessed what she was thinking.
‘It would do no good,’ he said, ‘and would not help your friends; that is what we must think of now.’
Chalotte was about to answer when a sudden surge in the crowd plucked her from her feet and swung her against the firm flesh of the bodyguard. She looked up and saw that she was only a yard or so from Flinthead, dangerously close to that damp green skin, those lifeless eyes of power and the great shapeless nose. Chalotte shivered in spite of the warm crush of bodies all round her. She turned her head away from the hideous countenance and immediately saw two faces she knew. There, just in front of the chieftain, marched Norrarf and Skug, resplendent in brand new uniforms. They had not seen her; they were too busy smiling with pride.
‘March on,’ cried Flinthead. ‘You did well, Norrarf and Skug; I will remember you when the treasure comes. March on I say, and sing the song of the Wendles.’
Chalotte turned her back to avoid being noticed and pushed her way through the crowd until she reached Twilight. Despair swept through her body and, amidst all the cheering and shouting, the tears ran freely down her cheeks.
‘For Pete’s sake don’t do that,’ said Twilight. ‘The Wendles will wonder what’s wrong with you, this is their celebration.’
Chalotte tried but could not stop her tears and Twilight guided her into a tunnel.
‘I saw Norrarf and Skug,’ she said miserably, ‘in Flinthead’s bodyguard. They weren’t bodyguards before so that means he must have promoted them … It means they must have told Flinthead about us trying to rescue Knocker … That can only mean one thing.’
Now it was Twilight’s turn to touch his knife. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘it means that Spiff told them about Stonks’s plan, so now there’s only the two of us against everyone else.’
A cool voice came to them from the darkness. Spiff’s voice. ‘If
you’d listened to me none of this would have happened. I told you to wait.’
Chalotte wiped her eyes and blinked, trying to locate her enemy; it was impossible. ‘You grassed on your friends,’ she said, ‘and now they’re down the bottom of the pit and we’ll never get them out.’
‘I can get them out,’ said Spiff, ‘on my own if needs be.’
‘Did you tell Norrarf and Skug to tell Flinthead about the rescue?’ asked Chalotte. ‘Because if you did I swear that I’ll kill you the first chance I get.’ -
Spiff chuckled. ‘You scare me to death. Yes, I gave Stonks away and I had good reasons for it. Flinthead knew there was something going on down here, he knew that someone from outside was inside. He’d already doubled the guards on all the exits and all along the Wandle. Stonks had no chance of getting anywhere, with or without the prisoners. He would have been killed; now at least he’s alive, and all the others as well.’
‘Alive like slaves,’ said Chalotte, and she took her catapult from her belt and loaded it.
‘Don’t you realize,’ Spiff continued, ‘that I’ve been planning my revenge against Flinthead for years, every move, every detail. I didn’t want it spoiled, so I put a spanner in the works as soon as I could.’
‘Yeah,’ said Chalotte angrily, ‘and it didn’t matter about our mates as long as your plan was all right.’ She began to stretch the catapult rubber. If she saw Spiff she’d kill him.
‘I’ll get ’em out of here. Look on the bright side. Sure I had Norrarf and Skug tell Flinthead but now they’ve been made members of the bodyguard. Now I’ll know everything Flinthead knows, but the best thing of all is that Flinthead thinks he’s captured everybody. He’s stopped sniffing; he doesn’t know about us, we’re a surprise.’
‘What d’yer mean, we?’ said Chalotte. She drew the rubber back to her ear and tried to judge Spiff’s position from his voice. She’d let fly with the stone, she thought, and then run forward with her knife.
Spiff’s voice floated through the darkness again, only now it
came from a different part of the tunnel. ‘If you put that catapult down, Chalotte, I’ll tell you … and you too, Twilight.’
Chalotte cursed and lowered her weapon. She looked to her right and caught a glimpse of Twilight doing the same with his.
‘You sod,’ she said, ‘you’re about as straightforward as a left-handed corkscrew. Why didn’t you trust us?’
‘I don’t trust anyone,’ said Spiff. ‘If you so much as pee against the wall down here Flinthead knows about it before you’ve finished. I’ll tell you one thing and one thing only. You want your mates out and you’ll have ’em out, that I promise you. What you’ve got to decide, Chalotte, is this. Do you forget about killing me or do I kill you, right now, because I can. I don’t need you, I can do my plan on my own.’
’Chalotte squatted on the rough floor, behind her the glow of the river bank and the noise of the Wendles as they dispersed, in front of her the blackness and Spiff’s voice. There was no doubt that he could see her whereas she could see nothing. She would have to lie. She was determined to survive if only to make sure that Spiff got his come-uppance. She put her catapult away.
‘I’d agree to anything,’ she said, ‘if I really thought you could still get them out.’
‘And me,’ said Twilight.
‘You’ll both have to do exactly as I say,’ said Spiff, ‘and no questions. I ain’t telling anyone what my plan is.’
‘Just tell me one thing,’ said Chalotte, ‘for the sake of curiosity. Was it you who arranged for the Borrible message to turn up in Neasden, the one that got Sydney so worried about Sam the horse, the one that made her come to see me at Whitechapel?’
‘Yes it was,’ said Spiff. ‘I wanted to get you all here but I wasn’t quite sure how to do it, then Sam and Sussworth and old Ben did it for me.’
‘If your plan only needs you why did you need us?’ asked Twilight.
Spiff chuckled, but with real mirth this time.
‘Twilight,’ he said, ‘you’re as bright as a new bar of soap. It was because my plan needed to lull Flinthead, which ain’t easy. I
needed someone to be captured, so he’d feel secure. Well he does now; all I’ve got to do is wait for the right moment.’
‘And when’s that?’
‘I ain’t saying. You can come along for the ride if you like or you can go away and hide in a corner till it’s all over.’
‘And the treasure,’ said Chalotte, ‘where does that come in?’
‘Oh, it comes in,’ said Spiff. ‘That’s power that is, not in a normal Borrible set-up, I know, but down here it is. I’ll be honest with you; Flinthead is first, then your mates, then the Rumble treasure chest. All three together would be lovely, but I’ll be happy to settle for the first one.’
Chalotte hesitated. She wished she had time to think, wished she had time to talk to Twilight, but there was no time. She sighed in the silence and said, ‘All right, Spiff. I’ve got no choice, have I? It’s Hobson’s again. I’ll go along with you, but when we get out of here, if we do, I might just stick my knife in yer.’
‘Me too,’ said Twilight.
‘I wouldn’t expect anything else,’ said Spiff, and they heard him roll over and get to his feet.
The sly bugger, thought Chalotte, he’s been lying on the floor, and she saw Spiff step into the light, holding a spear across his body.
‘What do we do now?’ asked Twilight.
‘We go back to the guardroom and wait,’ said Spiff. ‘I’ll ask Norrarf to get us a pack of cards. We can play patience.’
‘And the others,’ said Chalotte. ‘I suppose we just leave them in the mine, digging and slaving for Flinthead, until it suits you that is.’
Spiff smiled his most ironic smile. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘at least we know where they are. They can’t get lost now, can they?’
More than a week went by, a week that for Chalotte was made unbearable by Spiff’s confidence and high spirits. It was as if he saw the future with complete clarity and knew that his long-laid plans were at last coming to fruition. But Chalotte had never been so unhappy. Every second she was awake she thought of the captives toiling in the humidity of the mine-shaft, digging their days and nights away, knee-deep in muck. She was homesick, a thousand miles from Whitechapel, and had it not been for the hope of rescuing her friends, she would have made her way to the nearest manhole and gone back into the streets, never mind the SBG; anything to get back to a normal life.
And so she waited with an ill grace. She detested Norrarf and Skug more and more, turning her head away from the sight of them each time they brought provisions and news to the guardroom. That was all she could do; she was helpless and she knew it. She was obliged to accept the situation for as long as it lasted, but she would not acquiesce. She spoke only in grunts to Twilight; Spiff she ignored completely and spent her time either scowling or sleeping. Her usual common sense had deserted her, banished by feelings of frustration and hatred.
Yet deep down, although the waiting seemed endless, Chalotte knew that soon it would have an end and that if there was any chance of freeing her friends then that chance lay with Spiff and the devious workings of his complicated and untrustworthy mind. On the morning of the eighth day after the capture of Stonks, Chalotte at last awoke in good heart; she took a deep sigh and decided
only one thing mattered, and that was the deliverance of the enslaved Borribles.
As for Spiff, there was only one thing she could do. She glanced over to where he lay and studied his face, as crafty in sleeping as in waking. She could not fight him there and then, and anyway if the rescue attempt failed then Flinthead would kill them all. If it succeeded then there would be time enough to settle accounts. She would have to wait and see.
As she thought these thoughts Spiff opened one eye and smiled. He had a way of smiling that convinced Chalotte he could see right through her, and she knew he had realized, with his first second of consciousness, that she had come to a decision.
‘It’ll be all right,’ he said, ‘if you leave it to me.’
Whether her tacit acceptance had something to do with it or not Chalotte never knew, but from that day Spiff began to put his plans into operation. From then on they never stopped working. Spiff traipsed Chalotte and Twilight all over Wendle country, familiarizing them with the terrain, stealing systematically and making caches of provisions and weapons in likely and unlikely spots.
‘Well,’ he said in answer to Chalotte’s questions, ‘I’m not looking for trouble but when trouble starts it tends to get out of hand. Who knows which way we might have to run; we might have no weapons, no food, we might have to hide for days, weeks even. These supplies could be the difference between life and death.’
‘But only if you can remember where they are,’ said Twilight. “That’s not much good if we get split up.’
‘It’s good for me,’ said Spiff.
And so he went on working away at his preparations until the fourteenth day and then he declared enough was enough. He and his two companions had just finished hiding their last Wendle skiff when Chalotte became aware of a figure leaning over her in the yellow half-light. She turned quickly in the water where she stood and pulled her catapult from her belt. Spiff waded ashore, laughing to see Chalotte so ready to fight on his side now. ‘You still can’t see in the dark,’ he said. ‘That’s Norrarf.’
The Wendle threw three brand new orange-coloured jackets on
to the ground. ‘I’m going to enrol you in the bodyguard today,’ he said, ‘all three of you, only you’ll have to come right now.’
‘That’s good,’ said Spiff. ‘Plan A.’ And he held out a hand to pull Chalotte from the water to the towpath, but he explained nothing.
‘Put the jackets on,’ ordered Norrarf, ‘and as soon as you get a chance you’d better clean your helmets and waders. If you go round like that Flinthead will suss you for sure. And you’d best invent yourself a Wendle name too, just in case you’re asked.’
Spiff slung his old jacket into the river. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘as of now we’re in the bodyguard. That means doing what you’re told, Chalotte, when you’re told, without question. We’re walking on a knife’s edge. If we get found out it’s curtains.’
When Norrarf was satisfied with the look of his recruits he got them into line and marched them upstream until they came to the landing stage, the open space which was level with the mine and its platform. As always the noise of the treadmill and the buckets filled the whole cavern. Chalotte could see Stonks in the wheel with an arm round Torreycanyon, helping him along. Every now and then came the crack of the whip and Chalotte formed her lips to curse, but Spiff was watching and shook his head. ‘Not now,’ he said, ‘not now.’
There were about twenty of Flinthead’s bodyguard on duty in the area and their uniforms were spotless and their weapons clean. They leant casually against the brick walls or crouched on their haunches. From time to time, when they considered it necessary, they cleared the towpath of ordinary Wendles so as to make a way for Flinthead should he come. Apart from that they did nothing, though they gave the impression of being ready for anything at a moment’s notice. Under the bright helmets their faces were hard; they did what they were told and they did it quickly.
Norrarf marshalled the newcomers on a flat space by the bankside. He clicked his fingers and a warrior brought him an assortment of sharp spears; he gave one each to the three Borribles.
‘You have been picked to serve on Flinthead’s bodyguard,’ he said, loud enough for the nearest Wendles to hear, ‘and you know what that means; you will be rewarded for instant obedience, anything
less than that and you’ll be staked out on the mud. Now dismiss … and get your weapons and uniforms clean.’
Spiff saluted and Chalotte and Twilight did as he did, then they turned and walked away to find an uncrowded spot on the towpath not too far from their new colleagues.
‘I’ve seen a few Borrible tribes,’ said Twilight, ‘but I’ve never seen anything like Wendles, I mean obeying orders, cleaning clothes … How does Flinthead get away with it?’
Spiff spat on the point of his spear and polished it with his sleeve. ‘Because he doesn’t mind what he does or who he does it to, just as long as he gets his own way. It’s also got a lot to do with living so near Rumbledom. Until the Great Rumble Hunt was successful your average Wendle never knew from one minute to the next if he was going to be taken over or not … There was always a battle going on along the frontier. That made ’em suspicious of outsiders and always ready for a scrap, but then,’ and here Spiff winked, ‘so am I.’
During the days that followed Chalotte learned more about self-discipline than she had ever thought possible. She steeled herself to ignore the crack of the whip; she pretended to jeer and laugh with others of the bodyguard whenever Stonks or Torreycanyon fell to their knees in the treadmill; and she forced herself not to think of her friends, Knocker in particular, who were still toiling in the deep pit of the mine.
Most of the time she leant against the curved wall of the sewer and looked as ferocious and heartless as she could, or squatted cross-legged on the ground and played fivestones with Twilight, assuming an indifference to all that went on around her, though in reality her blood was seething with anxiety and impatience. Then one day, when she had almost forgotten who she was and why she was in Wendle country at all, Spiff came and sat with her and Twilight, resting his spear across his knees.
‘Something’s going to happen soon,’ he began, ‘I have a feeling in my water. Norrarf thinks they’ll reach the treasure any day now and when they do he reckons Flinthead will go down to get it because he won’t trust anyone to do it for him. He’ll come this way,
by the landing stage, and be rowed over to the platform, and then down he’ll go.’
‘Alone?’ asked Twilight.
‘Not bloody likely, he wouldn’t be safe. Bingo, Vulge and Sydney are still pretty fresh, they might wind their leg chains round his neck and strangle him. He’ll have to take some bodyguards with him … and we’re bodyguards. Now whatever happens we’ve got to get over to the platform with Flinthead. Norrarf and Skug are in charge here and they are going to order us into the rowing detail. We must get to the platform.’
‘Supposin’ we don’t?’ said Chalotte.
Spiff dismissed the thought. ‘We just have to, even if we take a separate boat. Once we get there you two line up with the Wendles and do as you’re told. It’s my job to see that I’m chosen as one of the guards to go down the mine with Flinthead.’
‘Cripes,’ said Twilight, ‘you can’t do that; it’ll be you against all of them.’
Spiff turned his head very slowly and looked at the Bangladeshi, his blue eyes blazing with the bright love of danger. It was a light fuelled by hatred and Chalotte blinked in the glare of it.
‘You’re mad, Spiff,’ she said very quietly, ‘you’re raving bonkers.’ But although she meant it there was a note of admiration in her voice. His bravery burnt like a beacon.
‘Maybe I am,’ said Spiff, ‘but when I get down there I won’t let two or three little Wendles come between me and what I’ve been dreaming of for years.’
‘What about when you come back up again?’ said Twilight. ‘We’ve got the whole Wendle nation to get past, remember. You said yourself they ain’t going to sit back and let us go without a fight.’
‘You don’t have to know any more than I’ve told yer at this stage,’ said Spiff. ‘Just behave like regular bodyguards until I comes with the prisoners, then do as I orders and everything will work out fine.’
There was nothing more to be got out of him and he left them, ignoring them both in the days that followed and spending all his time with the troops of the bodyguard, laughing, joking and making
friends. Indeed Spiff became very popular among the warriors, although it was obvious to Chalotte that if it became necessary he would slide his knife into any Wendle who upset his calculations. That was Spiff and he was not to be altered. So Chalotte gave up her contemplation of the strange un-Borrible Borrible and contented herself with counting the days … eighteen … nineteen … twenty … twenty-one.
An electric light flickered and Chalotte raised her head from between her hands. She was sitting on the towpath and Twilight sat nearby. In spite of her efforts she had lost count of time; there had been something like twenty-four days, she thought, since the capture of Stonks’s raiding party.
Chalotte glanced into the roof vault. The light flickered again. Something was wrong in the citadel, there was something missing. Then she realized; there was silence everywhere; the buckets were not clanking, the treadmill was not creaking. Chalotte glanced across the river. Torreycanyon was a collapsed heap and Stonks was kneeling beside him. The guards were as still as stone carvings, their spear points unmoving. Everyone, standing or sitting, was motionless, their ears cocked, their eyes wide open. There had been a noise and they were listening to it. Chalotte herself, preoccupied by her own dreams, had let the sound slip by at first, but then her memory found the noise and brought it back to her and it merged in her ear with a real echo, and Chalotte recognized the sound and the echo for what they were and so did everyone else in the Wendle citadel.
A quarter of a mile below the surface of the River Wandle, at the very bottom of the mine shaft, in a pool of mud and filth, Knocker’s spade had struck the steel lid of the Rumble treasure chest and the noise had rung in every Wendle heart, and it still rang and continued to ring as every heart stopped.
Down the corridors and tunnels the bitter noise echoed and no one moved while it passed them, but as it dwindled and died at last there came another sound, as chilling and as frightening as the first. A scream of pleasure rose from Flinthead’s throat and rode along the dark passages of his empire. Flinthead had got his way.
Flinthead called again; his duty bodyguard gathered round him and all together they raced towards the river. The chieftain’s face was crazed with greed and no one dared to look upon it in those first moments. But from the mouth of every tunnel that Flinthead passed came every Wendle who could move, eager to be with their leader, struggling with each other to be the first to see the box of treasure which they believed would change their lives.
Spiff rushed to Chalotte and Twilight and shook them hard by the shoulders, breaking the spell of fear that bound them. ‘Come on,’ he yelled. ‘Today is the day of all days, follow me and think fast.’
Then Norrarf’s voice came over the milling crowds on the towpath. ‘Clear the banks,’ he shouted, ‘Flinthead is coming.’
‘More room,’ shouted Skug from somewhere.
‘Follow me,’ said Spiff, and with the haft of his spear he levered himself through a thick crowd of Wendles and Chalotte and Twilight went with him, shoving and kicking their way.
‘Stand back for the guard,’ yelled Spiff. Chalotte looked at him; he grinned and she grimaced in return, striking a Wendle with her spear. ‘Stand back for the guard,’ she shouted.
The three Borribles emerged at last on the landing stage where Norrarf and Skug and their platoon of warriors were fighting hard to keep a space open. Norrarf, who stood in the centre, was nervous, a sickly colour under his greenish skin. He blew his cheeks out with relief when Spiff and his companions arrived.