Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

to the floor, quickly drawing a circle
around himself with the blade of his magic knife. ‘Naught, O great one!’ he
moaned.
    ‘On the
scrounge, are you?’ said Gobling. ‘Shouldn’t think you’ve ever done a day’s
work in your life.’
    ‘I beg —
I beg — ’ stammered Catweazle.
    ‘Yes, I
bet you do,’ Gobling interrupted. ‘Begging’s easy isn’t it? Just as long as
someone’s fool enough to fall for it.’
    ‘Mercy!’
    ‘A
social parasite — that’s what you are. You’ll earn any money I give you.
Understand?’
    Catweazle
didn’t, but he nodded furiously just to please him.
    ‘Right,’
said Gobling, ‘see that broom?’
    Catweazle
nodded. ‘Ay, O mighty one!’
    ‘Get
it!’
    Catweazle
scurried to fetch the broom.
    ‘Now
sweep up!’
    Catweazle
looked at the ceiling.
    ‘The
floor, you fool!’ roared Gobling.
    Catweazle
began to sweep the floor as if his life depended on it, and Gobling started to
mix plaster at the sink.
    Catweazle
swept his way over to the statue. ‘Patience, O king,’ he whispered, ‘I shall
set thee free!’
    ‘What
was that?’ said Gobling sharply, still stirring his bucket of plaster.
    Catweazle
bent hurriedly over the broom again. Gobling loaded some plaster on to a board
and went over to the king. Using a spatula he started to work on one of the
legs.
    ‘Bring
the steps!’ he ordered. Catweazle dropped the broom and skeltered to fetch
them. But he tripped over a lump of plaster and the ladder crashed against a
head and smashed it into pieces.
    Gobling
uttered a roar of fury and hurled his plasterer’s board at Catweazle, who got
enough plaster on his chest to convince him that his time had come. ‘Not into
stone!’ he howled, backing into another head which also went crashing to the
floor. ‘Not into stone!’
    ‘You
maniac!’ yelled Gobling. ‘I’ll murder you!’
    The
furious sculptor charged towards him, and Catweazle picked up a bucket full of
wet plaster from the draining board and hurled it straight at him. Gobling got
most of it in the face, skidded on the rest and sat down heavily. Plaster
dropped from his beard and he bellowed incoherently and beat the floor.
    Catweazle
ran outside and, for the second time that day, bumped into Cedric, who had been
sent to return Gobling’s photographs. ‘Catweazle!’
    ‘Hide
me from the wizard!’ cried Catweazle.
    Cedric
looked around desperately. The only hiding place was the sculptor’s battered
van, and he just had time to push Catweazle inside before Gobling came roaring
out of his studio.
    ‘Where
is he?’ he shouted. ‘I’ll tear him apart!’
    ‘Who?’
asked Cedric, playing for time.
    Gobling
wiped the plaster from his face and beard. ‘He must be hiding somewhere,’ he
said. ‘He’s wrecked my studio.’
    ‘Er...
you left your pictures,’ said Cedric hastily.
    ‘What?’
said the sculptor. ‘Oh... thanks.’ He began to calm down a little. There was
clearly no sign of the tramp. ‘Frightened him off, I suppose,’ said Gobling.
    ‘Looks
like it,’ said Cedric.
    Gobling
wiped spots of plaster from his watch. ‘The unveiling! I’d almost forgotten
about it!’ He climbed out of his boiler suit. ‘Are you coming?’ he said, going
over to his little van.
    ‘Aren’t
you going to change?’ said Cedric quickly.
    ‘No
time,’ said Gobling. ‘Get in.’ And they drove off to the Elderford Law Courts,
with Catweazle cowering under a sheet in the back.
    Lord
and Lady Collingford were already arriving in the old Rolls. Because it was a
special occasion Groome was driving it, dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform that
was really much too tight for him. The Mayor and other dignitaries of the
Borough welcomed them, and the little party walked slowly to the gardens behind
the Law Courts where a large crowd of people had collected. At the end of a
lawn, in front of a group of rhododendron bushes, stood Gobling’s latest work
of art, surrounded by curtained scaffolding.
    Then
Gobling and Cedric arrived. The sculptor, still trying to get plaster from his
beard, took his place on the platform with Lord and Lady Collingford. Everyone
was rather surprised at the state he was in.
    The Mayor
rose to open the ceremony. ‘My lord, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said,
unctuously, ‘as you know, we are here today for the unveiling of a statue, the
work of Mr John Gobling, whom we are glad to welcome this afternoon.’
    There
was polite applause. Cedric went stealthily back to the van to