Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

alarm. ‘What are you doing out of bed?’
    Groome
scribbled her a note. ‘ “He tried to make me eat a gramophone record,” ’ read
Mrs Gowdie.
    Groome
nodded furiously. Mrs Gowdie didn’t like the look of him at all. ‘Stay here,
Henry,’ she said and ran to fetch help. Lord Collingford was nowhere to be
found, but when she told Lady Collingford the story she was very concerned and
together they hurried back to the kitchen.
    ‘Hello
Mr Groome,’ said Lady Collingford in her most soothing voice, ‘what was it the
naughty doctor wanted you to eat?’ Groome glared at her and began to scribble
another note.
    ‘I
think I can cope with him,’ whispered Lady Collingford, ‘you’d better go and
see what’s happened to Doctor Hawkins.’
    Doctor
Hawkins was preparing an injection for Catweazle. The long needle frightened
the magician and he began to tremble and fizz.
    ‘Arm
please,’ said the doctor firmly.
    ‘Nay!
Nay!’ howled Catweazle and leapt out of bed. ‘Prick me not! I am no witch!
Leave me be!’
    ‘You
can speak!’ gasped the doctor and grabbed him, but Catweazle trod hard on his
toe, pushed him backwards on to the bed, and ran out, almost knocking over
Cedric as he made for the door and freedom.
    By the
time Doctor Hawkins recovered, Catweazle was already pedalling away across the
fields, but Mrs Gowdie reached the gatehouse just as the doctor was limping to
his car. ‘Did he attack you?’ she asked, very shocked that Groome had
apparently become violent.
    Doctor
Hawkins nodded. ‘We must find him. He may be dangerous,’ he said.
    ‘But
he’s sitting quietly in the kitchen, doctor,’ said Mrs Gowdie.
    Doctor
Hawkins looked at her. Perhaps they were all mad at Kings Farthing. ‘I don’t think
I can do any more at the moment,’ he said, rather shakily, ‘I’ve got another
appointment, you see,’ and he drove off before she could reply.
    It
might have been the spell Catweazle recited, or just the shock he’d given
Groome, but whichever it was, Groome’s voice did come back and, much to Lord
Col-lingford’s relief, he was able to show General Buckhunter and the Historic
Weapons Society round Kings Farthing the next day.
    ‘I
swore to help thee, my brother,’ said Catweazle, as they sat on the platform
outside Duck Halt in the early evening. Cedric had brought his record player,
curious to hear Catweazle’s records.
    ‘You
just got things a bit mixed up, that’s all.’
    ‘Thy
magic is too hard.’
    ‘Never
mind,’ said Cedric. ‘Shall we play your records?’
    Catweazle
handed him the album and Cedric took one out at random and examined it.
    ‘Gosh!’
he said, ‘the old Lion label. Not many of them about!’
    He
showed the record to Catweazle. In the centre there was a picture of a
crouching lion.
    ‘The
Lion!’ cried Catweazle. ‘ ’Tis the Sign of Leo! The Sign I seek.’ He waved it
in the air.
    ‘Don’t
drop it!’ warned Cedric. He took it from him and put it on his record player.
It was a very scratchy old jazz record and in spite of the strong rhythm the
tune was sad and pensive. For a moment they listened in silence, and then
Catweazle stood up stiffly and started moving his feet in time to the music.
Then waving his skinny arms he began to dance round the record player with a
rapt and far-away look on his wrinkled face.
    Cedric
also jumped up and began to dance, and slowly the two of them jigged solemnly
up and down the platform while the birds sang their accompaniment from the
surrounding trees.

VIRGO
     
    A large building company
called Victor Industries Rehousing Group Organization wanted to build an estate
on the outskirts of Elderford, but some of the land they wanted belonged to
Lord Collingford. So Jack Victor, the Chairman of the company, drove down from
London to open negotiations.
    He
didn’t like the country. It was a bit primitive and untamed, he felt, and when
he turned off the motorway and began to get lost in the tangle of country lanes
he wished he was back in his comfortable office with three secretaries to look
after him. When he eventually found Kings Farthing, and saw a small black cat
curled up in the middle of the road, about a hundred yards from the main gate,
it only confirmed his impression, for although he was a millionaire and a very
powerful industrialist, Jack Victor was intensely superstitious and very frightened
of black cats.
    ‘Shoo!’
he said, leaning out of the window and looking nervously at the cat. ‘Go