Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

into the woods with the precious
egg.
    From
that moment Exercise Capricorn turned into a manhunt. Both sides joined forces
to track down the lunatic with the hand grenade, before he blew himself to
pieces.
    Cedric,
who had got there just as Catweazle disappeared, tagged on to a party of
soldiers led by Colonel Dickinson and it was this party that eventually found
the magician. He was sitting on the low branch of a tree, still examining the
grenade.
    ‘I’ll
do this,’ whispered Dickinson. ‘The rest of you stay here.’
    ‘But
sir ..protested Jones.
    ‘That’s
an order, Lieutenant Jones,’ said Dickinson, demoting him suddenly, ‘My last,
probably.’
    He
tucked his shooting-stick under one arm and walked calmly towards Catweazle.
The magician watched him rather warily.
    ‘Er...
don’t do anything silly, will you?’ said Dickinson, keeping his eyes firmly
fixed on the grenade. ‘Not without telling me first.’
    ‘Who
art thou?’ said Catweazle, suspiciously.
    ‘Lieutenant
Colonel Dickinson.’
    ‘Where
is the magician?’
    ‘No
idea,’ said Dickinson, completely at a loss. ‘Now do be sensible, old chap.’ He
held out his arm for the grenade and Catweazle saw the Green Devil armband.
    ‘The
Sign of the Goat!’ he said, pointing to it eagerly.
    ‘Oh, do
you want it?’ said Dickinson, seizing the chance of an exchange.
    ‘Ay,’
said Catweazle.
    Dickinson
took off his armband and put it on the end of the shooting stick. He offered it
up to Catweazle who pocketed it, fizzing with pleasure.
    ‘Now
can we have our bomb back?’ said Dickinson.
    But
Catweazle had no intention of parting with the Divine Egg and continued to
fondle it. Suddenly the pin came out. He was so surprised, that he let the
grenade slip through his fingers and it landed at Dickinson’s feet. Without a
second’s hesitation the Colonel took a tremendous swing with his shooting-stick
and hit the grenade into the bushes some distance away. There was a loud
explosion and Catweazle fell backwards out of the tree. He fled away through
the woods as if every demon in the world of magic were after him. But although
the Divine Egg had disappeared in a clap of thunder, he still had the Sign of
the Goat.

12
     

AQUARIUS
     
    Catweazle had a bad cold,
which had forced him to give up his search for Aquarius, the Water Bearer.
Cedric went to see him every day and did his best to cheer him up but,
eventually, his chattering irritated Catweazle so much that he dragged himself
out of bed, still wrapped in an old horse-blanket, and began to make a magic
potion.
    By now
Cedric was able to read bits of the ancient spell-book and knew a little about
magical practices. He helped Catweazle prepare the cauldron — an old bucket
from the rubbish dump — and recited the right spells for each ingredient as
they went into the bubbling mixture. Occasionally Catweazle would correct him
irritably when he mispronounced a Word of Power, but secretly the magician was
pleased that Owlface was learning so quickly.
     
    ‘Toad-flax, garlic, rue and yarrow,
    Warm me to the very marrow,’
     
    read Cedric, throwing the
herbs into the cauldron as he walked slowly round it, deosil.
    ‘Good!’
said Catweazle, looking at the evil liquid.
    ‘You’re
not really going to drink it, are you?’ said Cedric anxiously.
    ‘What
follows?’ said Catweazle, shivering feverishly.
     
    ‘Cobweb, soot and three small stones,
    Take this ague from my bones,’
     
    Cedric went on.
    ‘Gab
gaba agaba,’ muttered Catweazle.
    ‘Look,
I’ll get you some proper medicine if you like.’ Catweazle took no notice and
began to stir the cauldron with the pump from his tricycle, but he was so weak
that he dropped it on the floor.
    ‘I’ll
do it,’ said Cedric, picking it up.
    ‘Nay, I
must stir,’ said Catweazle.
    . ‘For
how long?’
    ‘Nine
thousand times.’
    ‘You’ll
never do it.’
    ‘I
must. Or ’twill not be fit to drink.’
    ‘But
that means stirring all day, and you ought to be in bed.’
    ‘Ay,’
said Catweazle miserably.
    ‘There’s
something up at the house will do it for you,’ said Cedric, remembering Mrs
Gowdie’s electric hand-mixer. 'It’s a sort of magic stirrer.’
    Catweazle,
who was really too weak to argue, agreed to try it but flatly refused to let
Cedric take the potion to Kings Farthing by himself, though a large marquee was
being erected in front of the house for the Elderford Flower and Vegetable
Show, and soon the place would be