Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

stupidly.
    ‘Close
this little window whilst I mark ten and I will vanish.’
    The
gaoler, completely fascinated, slowly closed the hatch.
    Catweazle
sprang into action. He grabbed his magic book and shinned up the rough hewn
stones of the wall and on to the narrow lintel above the door, counting slowly
and loudly up to ten. Then the hatch in the door below him slid open again and
the gaoler peered in.
    ‘Canst
thou not see me?’ called Catweazle loudly, making his voice echo deceptively
round the dungeon.
    ‘N-n-n-nay,’
stammered the gaoler and crossed his fingers in superstitious fear.
    ‘Yet I
am here,’ Catweazle went on. ‘Come. Touch me.’
    The
gaoler was sure now the magician really was invisible; he slid back the bolts
and pushed open the door. Catweazle watched the man pass beneath him and then
jumped down and gave him a great push, sending him sprawling across the
flagstones. Then Catweazle skipped silently out of the dungeon, bolting the
door behind him. There was a roar of fury and the gaoler’s angry face glared at
him through the hatch.
    ‘Know
that I am Catweazle, master magician,’ leered Catweazle triumphantly and shut
the hatch.
    The
gaoler began to kick the door and bellow imprecations as Catweazle ran up the
steps, still safely clasping his magic book. There was a faint gleam of
daylight far above him and he scampered towards it panting with excitement.
    He
reached the top and paused to get his breath. Then he peeped round a half-open
door and looked out at the courtyard of the castle. A soldier stood on guard
with his back to the door. Across the courtyard another soldier guarded the
entrance to the tower. There was nobody else in sight.

    ‘An
high place,’ muttered Catweazle, looking up at the tower, ‘an high place.’
    With a
shout he ran out to the middle of the courtyard and capered in front of the
astonished soldiers to draw them from their posts and away from the tower.
Then, as they lumbered after him with drawn swords, he doubled back to the
tower and shot up the spiral staircase.
    He ran
round and ever upward, his bony shoulders bumping against the walls, his feet
stumbling as he grew dizzy. Below him, the alarm bell was tolling and he could
hear the shouts and curses of his pursuers. His legs grew heavy. The eight
months of imprisonment had weakened him and he was exhausted when he finally burst
out on to the top of the tower. He ran to the battlements and looked down.
    The
moat lay far below. For a moment Catweazle was frightened, but when the
soldiers appeared he clambered on to the battlements and then turned to face
them. They stopped in surprise. What new trick was this?
    ‘Fools!'
taunted Catweazle. ‘Dost thou not know? I have the power to fly as a bird
doth.’ He began flapping his arms wildly. ‘Salmay. Dalmay. Adonay!’ he shouted
and leapt into space.
    The
castle walls shot past in a blur and the moat came spinning up to meet him.
Catweazle hit the water with a mighty splash. There was a roaring sound and for
a moment he seemed to melt into a great whirling blackness...
    Moments
later he shot to the surface and thrashed about blindly, swallowing several
mouthfuls of muddy water but still clutching his book of magic.
    ‘I flew
not!’ he spluttered. ‘Then ’tis my bad luck!’
    He was
furious that the spell had failed him. Soon the Normans would be coming for
him. He gave a hunted look across the moat and gasped with astonishment. The
castle had vanished.

ARIES
     
    A wide lawn swept down to
the edge of the moat where a willow tree trailed its long branches in the
water. Beyond the lawn there were roses and cypress trees and a large white
house with a clock tower and a little steeple on top. He waded towards the
willow and hauled himself on to the bank. Feeling in his soaking pocket, he
took out Touchwood. The toad gave a watery croak. Catweazle stared at the house
for a long time and the muddy water dripped from his beard. Slowly he realized
what had happened. Water held a special magic for him; once again it had
brought him to the strange world where the spirit of electrickery lived and all
men had magic powers.
    ‘ ’Tis
time hath flown — not I,’ said Catweazle sadly, but his usual curiosity was so
strong that he began to creep towards the house, flitting from tree to tree,
from bush to bush, and being very careful not to be seen.
    He had
reached the safety of a thick yew hedge when he suddenly heard voices. Very
slowly he peered over the