The Borribles - Larrabeiti Michael. Страница 20

"Welcome, my friends," he said, looking as if he wished Adolf and Bingo six feet deep in Wandle mud. "Welcome to Wandsworth. You must forgive us, fellow Borribles, if we seem so . . . defensive. You live far from these rugged frontiers, whereas we exist under the constant threat of Rumbledom and its rapacious denizens. It would be so easy for them, you understand, to come pouring down the hillsides and across Southfields and into this Borough where we . . . pick up a poor living. Heaven knows why they covet what is ours, but then greed is a terrible thing, and although the Rumbles seem to us to be rich beyond the dreams of avarice, we find them everywhere, taking more and more. You captured only one Rumble on your frontier and yet you immediately gathered an elite force from all over London to punish them. Think how much more we feel the need to protect ourselves when we have thousands of Warrior Rumbles on our very doorsteps. But let us forget your awkward welcome. Now that we know exactly who you are, and where you are going, we join in common cause with you. Your enemy is our enemy, your fight our fight."

He coughed, thought for a moment and then went on. "Napoleon Boot, a warrior who carries our trust as well as our love, has told me of you and who you are and what you intend to do when once you reach Rumbledom. It is a good plan, though hazardous, and we hope you succeed. For the present our warriors will look after you. Sleep well and tomorrow Tron will set you on your way to Merton Road; there you leave our territory. Eat well, too. We shall give of our best."

Knocker stepped forward and bowed low and then raised his head and looked straight into the cold eyes. "What," he asked, making his voice sound even and mature, "will happen to our boat? We shall need it for the return journey."

A smile lived for a second on Flinthead's face and then died. "We shall guard your boat as carefully as something of our own. After all, you will need it to carry your spoils."

"If indeed there are any," replied Knocker. "Can you, on our return, guarantee us a passage down the Wandle, till we are safe on the Thames?"

"My own personal bodyguard shall be with you as you leave here and shall be at your disposition when you return. That shows how important it is to us that your mission succeed and will be a measure of our gratitude if it does. Next time we shall know you and our welcome will be more . . . amiable. For the present Tron will take you all to a comfortable room that has been prepared."

Flinthead gestured and Tron and Halfabar came forward and indicated that the Adventurers should follow them. After bowing in the direction of the podium they turned about and walked across the huge hall in the footsteps of their guides. The Wendle crowds pushed back and made room for them as if frightened of touching their bodies, but they gazed curiously at their cousins for it was rare for them to meet Borribles from another Borough.

Knocker did not follow the others immediately. He moved closer to the platform and looked up at Flinthead once again.

"Does Napoleon come with us, or does he stay here with you?" he asked the Chieftain.

The Chief Wendle smiled like a tombstone. "He had best stay with you, I think, then you can leave together in the morning. He has told me all I want to know, especially about you, Knocker. I think the Adventure might succeed with you at its head."

"I am not its leader, Flinthead," protested Knocker, looking angrily at Napoleon.

"I know," said, Flinthead dismissively, "you are a—what is it—Historian? We all know how to bend the rules, especially that Spiff fellow. Well, whatever you are, I hope you win through. I ask only one thing, and this I want you to promise, that you come back to us and recount all the details and dangers of your expedition and adventures. One of the few pleasures I have is listening to the stories of those who set off to earn their names. I want to hear how you fare, including Napoleon here; a fine name he will have."

"It will be only a small recompense for all the hospitality we have received at your hands," said Knocker politely, though he was deeply troubled in his mind by Flinthead's behaviour. He knew from Spiff that the Chief Wendle had a reputation for meanness and double-dealing. But at that moment all Knocker could do was to pretend he believed everything he was told. Knocker looked at Napoleon. He was a Wendle too and in a crisis would stand and fight with the Wendles, that was only natural. It wouldn't do to trust him with any secrets; secrets would only get to the ear of Flinthead and if the secrets were valuable then Knocker's life, and the lives of the others, wouldn't be worth a handful of Wandle mud.

Flinthead stood, ready to leave. "You are too kind," he said and then without another word he raised his hand and the Wendles in the hall began to leave. Flinthead's bodyguard assembled at the rear of the platform and the Chief went down the steps and was lost in the middle of his men. The bodyguard was formed of well-armed and experienced fighting Wendles, about fifty of them. It would be almost impossible to harm the Chieftain without their connivance, and they were probably loyal to a man.

Napoleon watched his leader go and then came to the front of the platform and jumped down to stand beside Knocker.

"That is a great Borrible," he said scornfully, "no little Spiff in a dressing-gown, but a warrior who thinks and plans and knows things. He sees what you are thinking even as it comes to your mind."

"Spiff is just as crafty and just as clever in his own way," answered Knocker. "Anyway, let us catch up with the others, I'm starving."

Napoleon shrugged his shoulders and turned to lead the way across the hall which was emptying now of Wendles. "They should have sent half a dozen of us on this expedition," he said, "we'd have done it easy."

"You may think that Wendles are better than anyone else, but we think we're pretty good, too." Knocker spoke evenly, trying not to argue with Napoleon.

Napoleon drew a deep breath as if going to launch into an angry speech, but he stopped as if he had remembered something. He half smiled. "Yes," he said at length, "we'll just have to put up with what we've got."

They ran along a dry tunnel and soon caught up with their companions who were being escorted by Tron, Halfabar and about twenty other armed Wendles. After a while they were led into a well-furnished and comfortable room which by Borrible standards was luxurious indeed, with carpets on the floor, a few armchairs and an abundance of cushions and blankets for relaxation and sleep.

The haversacks were brought in and the guards hurried away, only Tron and Halfabar stood at the door for a moment, looking at the Adventurers as they threw themselves down to rest. Then they too departed, locking the door behind them.

Orococco stood up quickly. "They've locked the door," he said angrily, looking at Napoleon.

"Yeah," said Bingo. "What's that about, eh? Answer me that."

"It's all right," said Napoleon, "I . . . asked Flinthead to do it, so we could sleep and eat without being disturbed."

"We could get drowned in here if the tide rose," said Vulge, "I don't like it. Us Borribles hate being locked in anywhere."

"You've got a cheek." Napoleon defended himself. "Why, this is part of Flinthead's own apartments that he's gone and let us use."

"He don't exactly trust us, do he?" said Vulge, striding up and down the room. "Don't let us go anywhere on our own, and locks us in for the night. I hates being locked up at all. It's worse than the nick, underground, gives me the creeps."

"It's not natural," continued Bingo. "All this bowing and scraping to Flinthead, shouldn't bow an' scrape to anyone, a Borrible. I don't think your lot are very Borrible, come to that."

"Are you saying that I'm not a Borrible?" cried Napoleon, livid, and he pulled off his hat and pointed to his ears.

"We don't know about you, yet," put in Knocker, quietly.

"And we don't know about you, yet," retorted Napoleon, turning on the Battersea lookout.

"How does a bloke like Flinthead get all that power, eh?" asked Orococco, "that's what I should like to know."

"Because he saw what needed doing and he did it, because he's tougher and brighter than anyone else," answered Napoleon furiously. "You're not at home now. We came on this trip to get the Rumbles, not for a holiday. Why don't you all just have a good meal and a good night's sleep. That's what I am going to do," and with that he began to help himself to the food that was lavishly distributed around the room and he would not be drawn into any further conversation that night. The others grumbled amongst themselves but then, being just as hungry and as tired as Napoleon, they tucked into the good food, chose a few cushions and blankets and soon they were asleep.

They slept long and deeply and woke late. Fresh food and drink was brought to them and when they were ready to march there was a loud knocking at the door and it was thrown open. In the doorway, and in the high corridor beyond, stood a crowd of about thirty Wendles: the elite guard, bearing torches and armed and dressed for a foray beyond the limits of the underground caverns. Each one carried a Rumble-stick as well as a catapult, and bandoliers were slung over their shoulders. The detachment was again led by Tron and Halfabar.

"Come," called Tron into the room, "we are to take you to King George's Park, then you have only a little way to go before you cross Merton Road and so leave our territory."

The Adventurers checked their catapults and stones, stepped out into the corridor and stood together. The Wendle guards formed up tightly, and the whole group made off down the tunnel, guiding their steps with circles of light from their torches.

After a brisk march they entered the huge hall where they had met with Flinthead. The small stage was still there but now no one sat on it nor was there one Wendle to be seen. They crossed the hall and entered a tunnel which soon joined the Wandle and they followed the tow-path along its edge. They met no one and Tron explained.

"Do not forget that it is night-time, about four in the morning above, and the night-stealers have not returned from their work and the day-stealers are still sleeping. The daytime shift dress as other Borribles dress, like normal children. We have permanent lookouts everywhere along Merton Road; that is the beginning of no-man's land. There is a system for getting messages back here, though we are gradually stealing enough components to build our own early warning relay with radios. We're getting them out of old taxis."