"Well, they didn't commit suicide," said Napoleon. "Mind you, they only came into the place in fives and sixes. It was easy really, like falling off a . . . bookcase."
Bingo took a box of matches from his pocket and handed them to Napoleon. "It's a shame about the books. Are there any good adventure stories there?"
Napoleon gave him an old-fashioned look. "I haven't had a lot of time for reading in the last half-hour," he said, and he went over to a stack of books. He put a match to them and, dusty and dry, they burst into flames on the instant.
"What I mean," persisted Bingo, "is that it's a shame; they're sort of nice things, books."
"Nice things! You sound like a bloody Rumble. Can't have no half-measures in an attack like this, Bingo, got to go the whole hog or it don't work. What would happen if we left these books up here untouched? I'll tell you what, there'd be another Rumble High Command on the go in five minutes. This is what it's all about, sonny, power!" And he threw another book on the fire.
"I suppose you're right," said Bingo. "I never thought of it like that."
" 'Course I'm right," said Napoleon. "Now then, it's time for me to go home. Can't stand fires, water's my element. Are you coming?"
"Can't," said Bingo miserably." I told you, I haven't found my bloke."
"Tough, but I'm off. I want to see that Knocker; that money's not all his." Napoleon winked mysteriously and made his way from the fire, which was now burning well, and began to climb his ladder. "You could come with me, Bingo, and drop down through the ventilation system somewhere else. It's going to get very hot in this library very shortly."
"It's going to be hotter than you think," said Bingo. "There were two million Rumble Warriors chasing me down the corridor out there. They don't run very fast, do they—but they ought to be here at any moment."
Napoleon became immobilised on the ladder and looked down. "How many? You can't have that lot to yourself, that's greedy," and he came back down the ladder and threw a few more books on the fire.
They waited and the fire crept along the mounds of books and began to rise towards the high ceiling. Soon there was a noise of shouting from the tunnel beyond the green baize door and Bingo and Napoleon placed themselves within sticker-throwing range of the entrance.
"We'll let the first ones have it with these stickers," said Napoleon, "then we'll get behind that pile of books, there beyond the fire, and then let then have it with the catapults as they try to get in. When we're out of ammo, we'll scarper up the ladder, okay?"
"Right," said Bingo. He picked up a couple of lances from the floor and hefted one ready in his right hand. Two breathless Rumbles burst into the room together and Bingo and Napoleon threw their weapons as one man and the two Warriors fell.
Other Rumbles crowded into the room in a compact mass, urged and pushed on by their eager companions behind, and the two Borribles continued to throw spears until they had exhausted their meagre supply. Several Rumbles had been accounted for, but so great were their numbers, it was impossible to prevent them from spilling into the Library and taking cover behind desks and bookcases.
Napoleon and Bingo fell back and crouched behind an enormous pile of books, their catapults stretched.
"I've hardly fired a stone yet," said Bingo. "It's all been lance work."
Napoleon peered through the smoke that was rising from the energetic fire that lay between them and the enemy. "This smoke is going to help them to creep up on us," he said to Bingo. "That's not good." He broke off and fired a shot towards the door. "Look," he said, "there's scores of them coming."
Bingo saw that many more Warrior Rumbles were rushing into the room. They were led by a slim but powerful-looking Rumble, covered in sleek brown fur and with a hard expression on his dangerous-looking snout. He carried three or four lances and wore a sash of gold, green and white to denote his position as Commander of the Warriors. He looked proud and impatient and Bingo knew that at last he had found his target.
The Commander ran this way and that at the far end of the Library, gathering his forces and making them emerge from their hiding places between the fallen bookshelves. He shouted and waved his arms and slowly the Rumbles came forward, throwing lances at the two Borribles who crouched behind the pile of books, only standing up every now and then to fire a stone. Things would have gone very badly with the two Borribles if the Rumbles had been in possession of any reasonable number of lances, but most of their missiles had been thrown in a panicky fashion at the beginning of the skirmish. Now there was a great pile of spears on the Borribles' side of the room and there soon came a moment when Napoleon and Bingo could stand up in full view of their enemy because the Rumbles had no stickers left to throw.
With a sign, the Rumble Commander sent some of his troops off into the corridor to bring more weapons and the rest of his Warriors took up defensive positions amongst the bookcases and the piles of burning books. It was hard to breathe in the room now as the fire gradually gained a firmer hold and the smoke grew thicker. Some Rumbles tried to stamp or beat out the fire, but more often than not their fur was singed or caught fire and their friends had to come to their rescue and save them from being scorched to death.
Napoleon checked his bandoliers. "Not many stones left," he said. "How about you?"
"I've got a lot still, but they won't last for ever," said Bingo, and he fired a stone at a Rumble who was trying to creep along the side of the room to get at a stray lance. "But I can't leave now, I've got to have a crack at my target, and I'd better do it before his mates get back with a new load of stickers."
Bingo reached behind and picked up two sharp Rumble lances. He put his catapult carefully into his back pocket and went slowly down the long slope of books. The Warrior Rumble with the sash stood by the Library door, waiting for his men to return with more lances, for even he was weaponless.
Bingo leant backwards, arcing his body, and threw one of his spears with all his might. His name would have been won there and then had the High Rumble not chosen that moment to step into the corridor to see if his men were returning.
The sticker plunged deep into the green baize of the Library door and it hung there—humming. Bingo swore and grasped his second lance securely, but did not throw it, for there are two ways of fighting with the Rumble-stick. The first is simply to throw it from a distance; the second is to wield it like a quarter-staff until the fighter finds a moment to use the point and slay his stunned or unconscious foe. Bingo moved nearer to the door and the Rumbles fell back. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Napoleon had followed him, his catapult eager to dissuade anyone who thought they could intervene in the fight between Bingo the Borrible and Bingo the Rumble.
The High Rumble leapt back into the room, saw the advance of the two Borribles and saw too the lance, still singing in the door. He pulled it free with both hands and moved towards Bingo. They said no word these two, and no Rumble attempted to interfere; they watched from the safety of their hiding places, their snouts and eyes only just visible through the red smoke.
Bingo held his lance with a hand at each end, using the long haft to ward off blows from his adversary who began the contest by working his weapon like a two-handed sword, hoping to stun the Borrible and then spear him. But Bingo had learned his Rumble-stick fighting well all that time ago in Rowena Gym and he protected his head and shoulders and was content to defend himself, while he measured the style of his enemy, conserving his strength.
It was treacherous underfoot; the books slipped and tripped and burnt the feet. Whoever fell first during this fight would be hard put to it to rise again. Suddenly the Rumble changed his tactics and began jabbing consistently and forcefully, making Bingo avoid the blows like a fencer. The Rumble was an expert, perhaps the best lancer of his tribe.
"Just my luck," thought Bingo, and redoubled his efforts, but backwards and backwards his opponent forced him. The other Rumbles emerged from their hiding-places and hurrahed and some climbed up onto the bookcases and, holding on with one arm, they waved the other and jeered at the two Borribles so lonely and outnumbered.
Sweat was pouring down Bingo's face and into his eyes, and his arms were aching and his hands were bruised and bleeding. He dodged, he weaved, he ducked. He tried to remember all he had ever learnt about fighting with the Rumble-stick, but it didn't seem to be enough. He had managed to ward off most swipes and stabs so far but he had not struck a blow yet and his antagonist looked fresh and powerful and was smiling grimly down his snout, his red eyes shining with triumph as he bore down on the Borrible from Lavender Hill.
The battle passed far beyond Napoleon but the Wendle kept his position, holding the spectators at bay with his catapult, though he realised that if the Rumble did for Bingo he himself would have little chance of escape. Bingo too was aware of that eventuality and he strove all the harder, and he thought of his other friends and their long quest and all they had been through together. He had a brief mental picture of them being torn and rent to death by the sharp teeth of the Rumbles and the notion angered him and he stopped retreating. He stooped suddenly and allowed the Rumble's sticker to whistle over his head. He jabbed at his foe and at last wounded him in the knee.