‘My Lord!’ said the old voice that had spoken up before. ‘My Lord, there is an ancient prophecy among our people:
A kit among the stars shall sit,
Beyond the aid of feline wit.
Empty Royal throne and mat
Till three Queens save a princely cat.
John and Rosemary could see the speaker now, a gaunt old tabby cat.
‘It is Malkin, my father’s faithful adviser and friend,’ whispered Carbonel.
‘Still harping on that foolish nursery rhyme, my good Malkin!’
The ginger cat laughed a horrid, jeering laugh, and the disreputable mob he called his Court nudged one another and joined in.
‘If it is the Prince, my Lord, he can prove it,’ went on Malkin anxiously. ‘He will have the three royal, snow-white hairs in the end of his tail.’
Rosemary forgot that she was supposed to be keeping out of sight. She jumped up from behind the tree… or chimney stack… and, waving the broom to attract attention, she called out:
‘He really has got three white hairs at the end of his tail – I’ve often noticed them!’
‘So, ho! You have brought your young witch with you!’ jeered the ginger cat. ‘Or are you still tied to her apron strings?’
‘I’m not a witch,’ said Rosemary indignantly, ‘and I never wear an apron, except to wash up! He is absolutely free. I bought him with my three Queens, and then I undid the Silent Magic, and set him free for ever!’
‘It is perfectly true – I saw it all happen!’ John shouted, popping out from the other side of the chimney… or tree.
The cats below raised a murmur that the ginger tyrant could not quell this time. Rosemary saw their glowing eyes switch backwards and forwards from them to the ginger cat, as each spoke in turn. She could see the enemy cat was sitting down once more, motionless except for the twitching at the end of his tail. John suddenly whispered urgently to her:
‘I say, where have the Alley Cats gone to? There were dozens of them standing behind the little temple, and now I can only see about half a dozen of them.’ But Carbonel had eyes for no one but the ginger cat, who had risen to his feet. ‘Keep watch behind you,’ he said quietly, then his voice rang out over the rooftops: ‘Who is for Carbonel the King? For law and order? For peace and plenty?’
Someone shouted‘Carbonel for ever!’ and the mass of cats heaved uncertainly for a minute, then half of them surged towards Carbonel, some of the others slunk towards the ginger cat, and the remainder hovered uncertainly between. The ginger cat stood motionless, but his flattened ears showed how angry he was. The six remaining Alley Cats closed in behind him.
‘Listen to me!’ he snarled, ‘common, black witch’s cat! I am Leader here by right of conquest. If anyone dares to dispute my leadership, let him fight for it!’ He arched his bristling back and hurled a wailing challenge to the stars. Carbonel yawned deliberately. Then he stepped delicately down, his silky body gleaming in the moonlight. Some of the cats closed in behind him, but without taking his eyes off his enemy he said: ‘Stand back, my people. This is between the two of us alone.’ He moved slowly and deliberately into the little arena at the foot of the slope.
24
The Battle
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As Carbonel made his way towards his enemy the animals drew back and made way for him to pass. The ginger cat was waiting for him. They stood facing each other, backs arched and bristling, hurling strange, bloodcurdling taunts at each other.
John was jumping up and down and shouting,‘Go it, Carbonel!’ and ‘Oh boy, oh boy!’
Rosemary felt something furry rub against her bare ankle. It was Malkin.
‘Dear Madam!’ he said. ‘Can you do nothing to help with your magic arts? If only the tyrant would disappear there would be an end to our troubles. The Alley Cats can do nothing without a leader. Can’t you make him vanish in a puff of smoke, or turn him into a toad, or perhaps a mouse?’
‘But I have no magic arts!’ said Rosemary. The old cat sighed.
‘What a pity. Then all we can do is to try to see fair play. I do not trust that ginger fiend. He will stop at nothing to gain his ends.’
‘Couldn’t we stop them fighting somehow?’ said Rosemary anxiously.
‘No. That would do no good, even if we could,’ said Malkin. ‘It would only put off the battle to another time… and blood is as red tomorrow as today’
‘Besides, I’m sure Carbonel would hate us to interfere,’ said John. ‘Look at him now!’
The two cats were stalking round each other very slowly with bristling backs, hurling strange cat insults at each other. Then they stood motionless, nose to nose, spitting defiance.
‘Go it, Carbonel!’ shouted John. ‘Don’t you see, Rosie? He has got to beat that ginger brute in single combat. Though what Aunt Amabel would say, I can’t imagine.’
‘But why should Mrs Pendlebury Parker say anything?’ asked Rosemary absently. The cats were sparring and hissing at each other, as John described it, ‘like a couple of pressure cookers’.
‘Why should Aunt Amabel mind? Well, after all, it is her long lost Popsey Dinkums.’
‘What!’ gasped Rosemary, ‘are you sure? Good gracious, why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I’m absolutely certain. I’d know him anywhere. And I did try to tell you, but you wouldn’t listen.’
Her attention had left the fight for a minute, but at that moment the two cats sprang at each other, rolling over and over, locked together.
‘Oh dear,’ said Rosemary miserably, ‘I do wish they did not have to do it!’ And she covered her eyes with her hands.
The cats were rolling over and over now, biting and thrusting with their hind claws. They parted, and once more stood, noses almost touching.
‘Oh, poor Carbonel. He is bleeding!’ Although Rosemary had covered her eyes with her hands, she could not resist separating her fingers, so that she could see what was going on. Carbonel had a great gash on his flank.
‘Look at your King now!’jeered the ginger cat. ‘Bleeding like every animal who dares to defy me; bleeding and limping into the bargain! Come on, my witch’s cat!’ and he danced triumphantly round Carbonel, who stood his ground, motionless except for his threshing tail. Five times they sprang at each other, rolling over and over in a flurry of fur, sometimes one uppermost and sometimes the other. The watching cats surged silently backwards and forwards as the fighters shifted their battle-ground. The sixth time, a cloud covered the moon so that the children could only see a dark, tumbling mass. John leapt up and down with anxiety, and Rosemary chewed the end of one of her pigtails, a thing she had not done since she was a little girl.
‘Oh dear, what is happening?’ she said in an agony of suspense. It seemed hours before the moon came out again, but when at last the rooftops were flooded once more with pale light, Carbonel was standing, panting, over the prostrate body of the ginger cat. It was true he was standing on three legs, but there was no doubt at all who was the victor. Carbonel threw up his scratched and bleeding head and called:
‘Who is your leader now by right of conquest?’ And the great assembly sent up a wailing cry:
‘You are, O Carbonel! You are!’
The defeated ginger cat said nothing, but he moved his head restlessly from side to side.
‘Oh, be careful, master!’ called Malkin. ‘Do not trust him!’ But his frail old voice was blown away by the little breeze that had sprung up.
Carbonel had turned his back on his enemy, shaking each paw in turn, and as he made his way, limping, up the slope to the little temple, the animals drew respectfully back to let him pass. All eyes were on Carbonel, and nobody noticed that the little knot of Alley Cats had disappeared, but just as the black cat was about to mount the steps at the base of the throne, John suddenly yelled:
‘Look behind you!’
And as he shouted the Alley Cats flung themselves on the unsuspecting Carbonel. Had he not had that second’s warning he would have had no chance at all, but he whipped round just in time to present the oncoming animals with bared teeth and claws. At the same moment from behind the ridge yet another knot of animals leapt on him from behind.