Catweazle

he was looking for.
    ‘You
see,’ he explained, ‘some old people are positive treasure houses of folk
material.’
    ‘Are
they?’ said Sam. ‘By the way, I found out where them badgers live, Mr Fitton.’
    A plane
roared overhead and Cyril leapt from his chair. He shook his fist in the air
and a maniacal gleam appeared in his eyes.
    Aeroplanes,’
he screamed in fury, ‘aeroplanes!’
    Sam
watched him nervously while the noise of the plane died away, and Cyril
gradually calmed down.
    ‘Sorry
about that,’ said Cyril. ‘I can’t stand them. They ruined my only recording of
the Yellow Bellied Sap Sucker.’
    ‘We’ll
build a “hide”,’ he said, passing Sam a spade, ‘and then they won’t know we’re
there.’
    ‘What,
the planes?’ said a rather worried Sam.
    ‘No, of
course not. The badgers,’ said Cyril irritably. ‘But I haven’t brought me
boots,’ said Sam, who loathed digging.
    ‘You
can have Jasper’s,’ said Cyril, handing them to him. Sam put them on gingerly.
    ‘Onward,’
said Cyril, and led the way out of the caravan.
    In the
meantime Catweazle had reached Castle Saburac, where Carrot was anxiously
waiting to tell him all about Sam leaving the farm.
    ‘Oh my
brother,’ gasped Catweazle, very out of breath, ‘ ’Tis terrible, ’tis horrible!
In the woods - a savage sorcerer - with great ears - on wheels!’ ‘Ears on
wheels?’ said Carrot, who was getting used to Catweazle’s outbursts by this
time.
    ‘Gibbering
fiends!’ said Catweazle. ‘Killing! Murdering! Save me, my brother! Save me!’
    ‘Get
up, Catweazle,’ said Carrot sharply.
    ‘Gab,
gaba, agaba!’
    ‘Calm
down!’
    Catweazle
recovered his breath and sat down in the middle of his magic circle with all his
fingers crossed. ‘Thy Sam is no more,’ he announced finally.
    ‘What?’
said Carrot.
    ‘The
foul fiend hath devoured him.’
    ‘What
are you talking about?’
    ‘There
is a sorcerer in the woods, brother. He liveth in a little house with wheels. He
hath a cloak like a wheel.’ Catweazle was referring to the large umbrella that
Cyril used when he was recording in the rain.
    ‘Then
thy Sam cometh,’ Catweazle stopped, overcome by the memory of the screams.
    ‘Go
on,’ said Carrot, who was beginning to get interested.
    ‘He
goeth in.’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Oh my
brother!’ said Catweazle, burying his face in his hands, ‘the screams, the
dreadful screams!’
    ‘You’re
imagining things,’ said Carrot. ‘Why would anyone want to kill Sam? Where is
this caravan?’
    ‘Nay he
will kill us all,’ said Catweazle.
    ‘Just
show me where it is.’
    Catweazle
shook his head vigorously.
    ‘Look,
Catweazle,’ said Carrot trying to reason with him. ‘You’ve probably got it all
wrong anyway, but even if you haven’t, two magicians ought to be able to fix
this new bloke.’
    ‘Bloke?’
muttered Catweazle.
    ‘Two
sorts of magic are better than one, aren’t they?’ ‘Mayhap, mayhap,’ said
Catweazle cautiously. ‘But first, brother, widdershins!’
    ‘What?’
said Carrot.
    ‘Widdershins,
brother!’ said Catweazle impatiently. ‘Widdershins!’
    ‘What
are you babbling about?’ said Carrot.
    ‘We
must seek protection. Dost not know widdershins?’
    ‘No,’
said Carrot.
    ‘ ’Tis
beyond belief,’ said Catweazle, shaking his head.
    Spreading
his arms, the old sorcerer crouched down and began to revolve on the spot.
Faster and faster he whirled until he was spinning like a top. The whole tank
began to shake and Carrot clutched hold of a girder to steady himself. As he
whizzed round and round, Catweazle began to hum until the noise was deafening.
Finally, unable to keep his balance, he collapsed in a heap on the floor.
    ‘
“Round and round, the charm is wound”,’ he gasped. ‘Now I am ready.’
    ‘You
look ready,’ laughed Carrot, helping the dizzy magician to his feet. Catweazle
fumbled in his robe and held up Touchwood, who looked somewhat greener than
usual.
    ‘Come,
my warrior,’ said Catweazle fiercely. ‘Let us into battle!’
    Touchwood
croaked feebly and his eyes bulged.
    ‘He’s a
bit small for a battle, isn’t he?’ said Carrot as Catweazle began to climb up
the ladder.
    ‘He may
be small, brother, but he hath the spirit of a lion. Thou shalt see! To arms,
Touchwood!’ cried Catweazle, now apparently ready for anything. ‘To arms!’
    Carrot
could barely restrain him as they reached the clearing and caught their first sight
of the