Contents of article "’Beyond the Hedge’ - Chapter 10 Part 2"
’Beyond the Hedge’
Cassandra moaned and muttered in her fevered state. The air in the infirmary was polluted with the sickly smell rising from her diseased wounds.
On the rail behind her head sat the Royal Raven, her radiant cowl of feathers bowed low over the flawless emerald cradled between her feet. The room was washed with light from the gemstone.
Will sat on a stool by the bed with a bowl on his lap. He fed the hare tiny amounts of water from a dropper to prevent her from becoming too dehydrated.
The Queen of the Fairies stood at the foot of the bed, her shoulders relaxed, her arms loose by her sides. Celestina’s eyes were fixed on the light at the heart of the emerald. Green vapour floated out over the hare and the anguished expression melted away until Cassandra’s face took on a more tranquil appearance. The Queen crossed the room and opened the casement window. “Come, my little Corncobbers. We’re in need of your help.”
There was a faint tinkling of bells which heralded the arrival of a host of tiny fairies who flew in through the window. They were dressed in yellow gossamer and wore coronets studded with topaz. On their ankles were garlands of dainty flowers intertwined with ribbons and bells and they flew in formations of furious intensity to a faultless choreography.
Throughout these lightning-fast manoeuvres, the Corncobbers played on fiddles and lyres while they sang songs of rebirth and regeneration in twittering, birdlike harmonies. The notes swirled out around them in shining cascades of minims, crochets, quavers and semibreves.
The leader landed on the pillow by the hare’s head. She held her fiddle and bow in one hand and conducted the floating notes with the other.
The Queen drew a wand from the folds of her flowing gown. She murmured an incantation and focussed on the wand which she held in front of her. The fairies stopped playing but continued their mesmerising flying display. The notes finally came to rest on the hare and she was soon covered in a healing blanket of music. The leader of the fairy orchestra was joined by the others who formed a circle round the patient.
Celestina bowed to the conductor then addressed the throng. “Thank you all. Cassandra might not have survived without your music. May I keep these notes in case she has need of them again?”
The Corncobbers nodded in unison and the leader pointed to the bedside cabinet. The top drawer opened silently.
The fairies took a collective deep breath and exhaled gently. The notes rose from the bed and swirled into the drawer which closed smoothly behind them.
They curtsied to the Queen and, in a whirr of wings, flew out of the window back to their homes in the maize fields of the Sapphire Valley.
The cuts on the hare’s body had healed and there wasn’t a scar to be seen. Cassandra’s coat was shiny and healthy again and rhythmic snores indicated she was sleeping soundly.
“Whatever she has to tell us will have to wait,” said Celestina. “She needs complete rest to recover from the trauma.”
Indigoletta flexed her wings. “A job well done, Your Majesty. Do you think the music may help ease her sorrow over the loss of her children?”
“I think we’ll find a gradual improvement. Their music works on many levels. Look at young Will.”
The Attendant to the Royal Raven sat with his eyes closed and a blissful expression on his face. “I’ve never heard anything so beautiful,” he said dreamily.
“So you’ve not come across Corncobbers before,” said the raven. “Sightings of them are rare. They’re reclusive, private souls. You’ll never hear more accomplished musicians and they hardly ever perform for anyone who isn’t one of their own.”
“Aye, Indigoletta, and I’m most grateful they always come when I need them. I’ll leave orders for Cassandra to be protected round the clock. I’ve had the cellars searched and the tunnels sealed. The last thing any of us needs is a horde of scrablings finding their way into the palace. I must go now for there’s much to be done.” Celestina paused on her way out. “Ask Martha Snowberry to prepare one of her special vegetable broths, Will. The dear beast will be ravenously hungry when she wakes, and make sure the nurses know about our glittery friends in the drawer.”
Alfie dismounted and tied the pony’s reins to a tree by the entrance to Sammy’s cave. There was a pail of fresh water, a tidy heap of hay and a neat stack of apples and carrots. Jock flew down from the upper branches where he’d been watching out for the elf in his distinctive Lincoln green.
“Courtesy of SSS. He thought Celia might appreciate some refreshments.”
“How typically thoughtful and when he’s so busy.” The elf gave the pony a friendly slap on the withers. Celia took a mouthful of hay and whinnied her appreciation.
“How’s it going, WAE? Did you manage to persuade Pogo to move into the palace with the others?”
“She didn’t take much convincing, I’m pleased to say, and Pongo was delirious with joy to be going as well. He’s fair taken with his new friends and I dread his reaction when it’s time for them all to go home again. Kismet tells me security at the Palace is tighter than ever.”
Jock tidied the white feathers on his chest. “That’s as it should be with scrablings on the loose. Wherever those little pests are, you can be sure there’s a snaglip not far behind. Great blundering oafs, but they can’t half do some damage when they get going.”
Their attention was caught by loud cawing above their heads. A squadron of magpies and jays wheeled in tight formation and flew out over Moonglow Lake.
“Let’s get on in. Sammy’s waiting for us. You’ve brought the cowrie shell?”
“It never leaves my side these days.”
The Royal Steed came to a halt before the Great Daria Gate and Wainscot raised a paw in greeting. The sentry imp looked down from the watchtower and back at a scroll of paper containing a list of names. There was none of that self-important, overblown nonsense, those exchanges that go something like:
“Who goes there?”
“The Royal Steed.”
“Password?”
“McGillicuddy’s jodhpurs.”
“That was last week’s.”
“I’m losing my patience.”
“Oh, it’s you, Kismet, why didn’t you say so?”
“I did say so.”
Instead, the sentry greeted the Royal Steed politely and read the roll-call loud and clear, ending with “One gaudily attired crustacean in a silver receptacle bearing the royal seal and I don’t mean a water-dwelling mammal with flippers and a tiara.”
Kismet chuckled. “I have two others with me who won’t need clearance.”
“That’ll be Pogo Pixie and Pongo the dog.”
“You’re no slouch,” declared ‘the dog’. “You’re not by any chance related to a certain imp?”
Malcolm laughed, doffing his feathered hat to reveal an explosion of scarlet hair. “Will’s my cousin. Welcome to the Palace.”
Pigsblanket was concealed in a dense patch of scrub, keeping a safe distance between himself and the ferocious gorse bushes which grow in abundance on the rocky outcrops around the palace.
The arrival of the Royal Steed with his mixed cargo of passengers offered the lad an opportunity too good to pass up. Here was his entry ticket to the palace if ever there was one, but could he pull it off? The direct approach was not an option; there were too many variables which were likely to result in failure. His ragged clothes and battered, punchbag of a face were two obvious stumbling blocks.
He listened attentively to the exchange between Kismet and Malcolm and decided his best option would be to stow away on the Sylvanian Forest Cat. Not such a ridiculous plan since he wasn’t much heavier than a mound of marshmallows and the cat was large, well-nourished and extremely hairy.
The decision was made for him when the iron door within the Great Daria Gate swung open and Kismet broke into a trot. Pigsblanket hurled himself out of the bushes, with Conchita pressed against his injured ribs. He made a desperate grab for Kismet’s mane and slipped behind a curtain of soft fur.
Will was waiting by the fountain in the inner courtyard. “Brilliant,” he declared, rubbing his hands together. “I couldn’t believe you were here already when my cousin sent word. You made very good time, Kismet.”
The fairy mouse laughed. “And we picked up an extra passenger along the way.”
“What extra passenger?”
“That ragamuffin hiding in your chest wig, Kizz.” Wainscot was delighted with herself. “The cheeky article hitched a lift outside the gate. Us fairy mice never miss a trick. You might as well come out now.”
Will peered up at the cat’s furry chest.
Pigsblanket willed himself invisible which was a pretty pointless exercise. He reluctantly lowered himself hand over hand and landed in front of the imp.
“What have you got to say for yourself?” The boy didn’t flinch before Will’s steady gaze. “You’re likely to spend the rest of your life behind bars unless you have a very good reason for sneaking in here like this.”
The others were already disembarking with the help of a small deputation from Twitchett’s Impfantry and Pigsblanket couldn’t help staring at Lorimer in his spangled bathing suit as he was carried past shoulder-high. The lobster anxiously clung to the rim of his silver bucket while Pongo bustled around underneath. “Steady now. Don’t drop him. You’re spilling water all over the place.”
The foot soldiers weren’t used to receiving instructions from a dog and grumbled their disapproval.
Pigsblanket decided to leap straight in before the situation became any more bizarre. “I know where Leo is.”
“That’s a pretty good reason,” said the irrepressible pooch. “You may escape the slammer after all.”
Will stood his ground. “Why should I listen to a load of old flannel from a rag-bag like you?”
“That’s a fair point, sir. In your position I wouldn’t believe me either.”
The imp’s face softened. “So where exactly is Leo?”
“He’s being held prisoner on ‘The Cheeky Monkey’. The Giant Rat’s there too. Grimshaw’s aiming to sail as soon as there’s a window in the weather. I jumped ship to come here for help. If you won’t believe me, I’m as good as dead. The Captain doesn’t take kindly to desertion and betrayal, particularly when it’s his own cabin boy stabbing him in the back.”
Pogo approached the wretched lad and looked him over with the experienced eye of a mother. “If we don’t rally round you’ll be dead before he notices you’ve gone. I take it Grimshaw’s responsible for the state you’re in.” Pigsblanket mouthed an emotional ‘yes’. “Let’s get you inside. Food, a hot bath and someone to take a look at those wounds is what you need. I’ll take full responsibility. I reckon we can trust…” She smiled encouragingly.
“Pigsblanket,” he said with tangible embarrassment.
“That’s some name,” said Pongo. “I don’t imagine you get many of them to the pound.”
“At his weight you probably do,” said Jamie, sniffing the air. “Is that a parrot you have in your pocket, Pigsblanket?”
The boy’s hand went instinctively towards Conchita who was sitting patiently inside his coat.
“Don’t worry. I’m not in the habit of eating parrots. They’re too tough and stringy in my experience.”
Pongo wasn’t the only one holding his breath to see what the cat would come up with next.
Jamie paused just long enough to enjoy the effect of his words but didn’t overcook it. “I simply can’t resist alliteration after an anxious altercation and I’ve never had so much as a morsel of parrot.”
The impact of Pigsblanket’s disclosure finally hit home and Sandy clapped her hands impatiently. “What are we waiting for? We must rescue Leo and Gilbert at once.”
“Hold your horses,” Kismet said with calm authority. “Nobody’s going anywhere without special clearance from the Royal Raven. Let’s get you settled and feed this poor wretch before there’s no longer any need. You’ll let Indigoletta know about Leo, won’t you, Will?”
The imp was already out of earshot, halfway up the spiral staircase that led to the Royal Raven’s eyrie. Indigoletta was as good as on her way.
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