Catweazle and the Magic Zodiac

Catweazle, getting to his feet, his old joints cracking, ‘thou
shalt see!’
    He
stalked off into the woods without looking back. Cedric followed, though he was
sure Catweazle was slightly mad, but nevertheless wanting to see what he would
do next. It was a very hot day but it was all he could do to keep up with the
old man and when at last Catweazle did stop Cedric flopped down in the grass
with a sigh of relief. ‘All right,’ he said ‘where’s the mighty cave?’
    ‘It is
not here,’ said Catweazle unhelpfully.
    They
had stopped quite near a small country pub and Cedric took some money from his
pocket and gave it to Catweazle. ‘Go and get us some crisps and pop,’ he said.
    Catweazle
hadn’t the remotest idea what Cedric was talking about. ‘Crisps and pop?’ he
muttered.
    ‘Yes,’
said Cedric ‘four bags. I’m not allowed in, you see.’ He pushed Catweazle in
the direction of the pub. ‘Go on! Crisps and pop.’
    Catweazle
shuffled off towards the pub endlessly repeating ‘Crisps and pop, crisps and
pop,’ to make sure he wouldn’t forget it.
    He went
cautiously into the pub and went up to the bar looking round at all the shining
glass. Fred Oakly, the publican, looked at the ragged figure with suspicion,
and Eustace Pickle, who had just driven from Kings Farthing with his load of
bric-à-brac, turned round and sneezed.
    ‘Yes?’
said Fred.
    ‘Pips,’
said Catweazle, very unsure of himself, ‘and... er... crop.’
    ‘Eh?’
breathed Fred.
    ‘Crops?’
said Catweazle uncertainly, and proffered the strange silver coins. ‘And...
er... pip.’
    The two
men looked at him in bewilderment.
    ‘F-f-f-four
bags,’ said Catweazle, hazily remembering what the boy had told him.
    ‘Four
bags?’ said Fred.
    ‘I
reckon he wants some crisps,’ said Pickle.
    ‘Ay.
’Tis so!’ exclaimed Catweazle. ‘Crisps!’
    Fred
gave him a funny look and went to get some. Pickle sneezed again and pushed a
small vase of flowers away from him towards Catweazle. The magician took them
from the bowl and was about to thank Pickle for this unexpected gift when Fred
came back with the crisps.
    ‘Here!’
said Fred indignantly, taking the flowers from Catweazle.
    ‘Pop!’
said Catweazle suddenly.
    Fred
jumped. ‘What?’ he said.
    ‘Pop!
Pop! Pop!’
    Fred
backed away. He wasn’t quite sure if Catweazle was really a lunatic or if it
was all some sort of elaborate practical joke. He pulled himself together.
‘Lemonade or orangeade?’ he asked.
    ‘Nay!’
said Catweazle, ‘Pop!’
    Fred
looked at Pickle as if to say, ‘What have I done to deserve this?’ and fetched
Catweazle a large bottle of lemonade. Catweazle put down the money, picked up
his purchases, backed away a few steps and then scurried out, leaving the two
men transfixed with astonishment.
    ‘Whatever
was that?’ said Fred.
    Cedric
was waiting for Catweazle round the side of the pub where they could eat
unobserved. Catweazle handed over the picnic and Cedric gave him a bag of
crisps. ‘Eat up!’ he said.
    Catweazle
hesitated for a second and then bit the little bag. When that was no good he
stuffed it into his mouth and tried to chew it up, crisps and all. Bits of bag
and crisps went all over the place and he started to choke, so Cedric quickly
opened the lemonade, making it fizz violently.
    ‘It
boils! It boils!’ Catweazle moaned, crisps falling from his beard.
    ‘Don’t
you like it fizzy?’ asked Cedric.
    In
answer, Catweazle jumped up and began to fizz himself. His eyes grew round and
he pointed speechlessly into space.
    ‘Are
you all right?’ asked Cedric.
    ‘The
second Sign!’ cried Catweazle. ‘ ’Tis Taurus the Bull!’ He was pointing towards
the inn sign.
    ‘The
Old Bull,’ read Cedric. Catweazle ran over to the sign and began to shin up the
post. Cedric tried to pull him away, but he wrapped his arms and legs round it
and hung on.
    ‘You
can’t have it!’ said Cedric.
    ‘ Tis
the Sign of the Bull!’
    ‘Exactly.
The Old Bull at Bodford. And that’s where it’s staying.’
    ‘I want
it. Without it I shall never fly.’
    ‘You
can’t have everything you want,’ said Cedric crossly, ‘it’s bad for you.’
    Catweazle’s
thumbs pricked suddenly. He let go of the post and dragged Cedric behind
Pickle’s lorry. They didn’t see Fred and Pickle come out of the pub carrying a
ladder and Cedric went on whispering fiercely at Catweazle while Fred put the
ladder against the post and climbed up to unhook