Catweazle

Saxon.
    ‘Stop
foolin’ about and give us a hand,’ said Sam from the car. ‘We’re going to be late
for the rehearsal.’
    Every
year, the Westbourne and District Operatic Society put on a pageant in the
grounds of Old Westbourne House. It was produced by Stuffy Gladstone and the
money raised was given to the Cottage Hospital.
    ‘She
was goin’ a treat yesterday,’ lied Sam, removing the sparking plugs.
    ‘Reckon
she’s had it,’ said Fred, taking off his helmet.
    ‘I
ain’t walkin’ five miles dressed like this,’ said Dick.
    Catweazle
was still running blindly through the wood, but when he saw the old water tower
in front of him he stopped and blew on his thumb-ring.
    ‘My
brain burns!’ he moaned, ‘Where am I? O Touchwood, Touchwood! The past and the
present are one!’
    He
scrambled up into Castle Saburac and quickly drew a new circle round himself on
the rusty plates of the water tank.
    ‘O
cursed telling bone!’ he moaned, clenching his fists and knocking his knuckles
together in impotent rage and panic, ‘thou hast brought Normans to plague me!’
    He
grabbed Rapkyn’s book and searched through its ragged pages. ‘I will bewitch
them with flea-bane, blister them with hog-weed,’ he said, vainly looking for a
suitable spell.
    He was
still looking when Carrot climbed in with a rucksack full of supplies. ‘
’Morning, Catweazle! ’Morning, Touchwood!’ he said cheerfully.
    ‘Hurry,
earwig,’ said Catweazle, hardly looking up from the book. ‘Lest the Normans see
thee.’
    ‘I wish
you’d shut up about the Normans,’ said Carrot wearily. ‘Once and for all,
Catweazle, you are living in the twentieth century - '
    ‘I
believe thee, brother. I believe thee,’ Catweazle interrupted. ‘But there are
Normans. I swear by - ’
    Catweazle
looked down for Adamcos. The sheath was empty.
    He
dropped to the floor, making unhappy whimpering noises, and began scrabbling
around like a dusty old crab.
    ‘What’s
wrong now?’ asked Carrot.
    ‘Adamcos,
’tis gone!’ cried the old sorcerer in a panic, Adamcos! Adamcos!’
    ‘Don’t
moan,’ said Carrot. ‘Well find it. You must have dropped it somewhere.’
    By this
time, Catweazle was making the most dreadful blubbering noise on the floor.
    ‘For
heaven’s sake!’ said Carrot. ‘It’s only a knife. Look, if you shut up, I’ll buy
you a new one.’
    ‘Dost
thou not know?’ said Catweazle on all fours. ‘Dost thou not understand? Without
Adamcos I shall die!’
    ‘What!’
said Carrot.
    ‘It
holds the power of life. I shall perish if we find it not. At sunset I shall be
no morel’ ‘I’ve never heard anything so daft,’ said Carrot. ‘Where did you have
it last?’
    ‘Hard
by the Normans,’ said Catweazle.
    Carrot
controlled himself with some difficulty. ‘If you mention that word again I’ll
crown you,’ he said.
    ‘Crown?
Me?’ said Catweazle.
    ‘Come
on,’ said Carrot. ‘Let’s go and find it,’
    Catweazle
followed Carrot very unwillingly back to the fallen tree, and nearly ran away when
he heard voices, but Carrot grabbed him and pointed towards the road. He had seen Sam through the
bushes.

    ‘You
idiot, Catweazle!’ he grinned. ‘They’re not Normans. It’s Sam! Today’s the
dress rehearsal for the show.’
    Catweazle
looked dazed. ‘Show?’ he said.
    ‘Westbourne
through the Ages,’ explained Carrot. ‘They do one every year. Dad’s on the
committee - ’
    ‘See,
brother,’ Catweazle broke in excitedly. ‘Adamcos!’
    Catweazle’s
knife lay in the pathway to the road. They were just worming their way forward
to get it when they saw Mr Bennet coming and they had to hide behind the tree.
He saw the knife on the path and took it across the clearing to show to Sam and
the others who were still trying to start Apollo Twelve.
    Catweazle
and Carrot watched from their hiding-place.
    ‘I
say,’ said Mr Bennet, ‘does this belong to any of you?’
    ‘Hullo,
Mr Bennet,’ said Sam. ‘No, it ain’t ours, is it
    boys?’
    ‘Funny
looking thing. Might be quite valuable,’ said Mr Bennet.
    ‘What’s
the trouble with the car?’
    ‘I
dunno,’ said Sam, scratching his head.
    ‘Died
of old age probably,’ said Mr Bennet. ‘You’d better come back to the farm and
I’ll run you up to the house.’
    ‘Thanks,
boss,’ said Sam.
    ‘Carrot’s
supposed to number the seats. Haven’t seen him, have you?’
    Carrot
crouched lower behind the tree trunk and none of the men spotted him as