‘Greetings to you!’ said Rosemary politely.
‘I have been instructed to see you safely to headquarters, and I assure you, you will be perfectly safe in my charge.’
‘That’s very good of you,’ said John, who felt quite capable of looking after himself and Rosemary. ‘But all the same –’
‘Not at all!’ broke in the animal, as they crawled out of the Green Cave. ‘Not that it is for everybody I’d risk missing my place in the battle, no sir! But your fame has gone far and wide, as the gallant rescuers of the royal kittens, and I’d look on it as an honour,’ he said graciously. ‘Leadbitter is the name.’
They followed him out of the garden into the road.
‘Where are the headquarters?’ asked Rosemary.
‘Ssh!’ said Leadbitter hurriedly. ‘The very lampposts may have ears!’ he whispered. ‘Follow me!’
John and Rosemary followed. Leadbitter trotted on in the swift, effortless way of the cat with a purpose, and they had their work cut out to keep up with him. An occasional car sped by, and sometimes a late homecomer walked quickly past, and looked curiously at the two children. Several times they were overtaken by other cats hurrying in the same direction. To each one Leadbitter called softly, ‘Bittem?’ and the animal would answer, ‘Haddock heads!’ And apparently satisfied, Leadbitter would trot on again. Once they saw a large tabby cat accompanied by a very small one. ‘This is not a night for kittens to be abroad, ma’am!’ said Leadbitter firmly. ‘Better take him indoors as quickly as possible!’
‘Yes, sir, this very minute, sir. I’m taking him out of harm’s way to his auntie, sir!’ came the answer.
They hurried on, and as they neared the Old Town, John said, ‘Rosie, look at that wall!’
The pavement along which they were hurrying ran beside a wall which towered like a cliff above them. Rosemary looked up and saw along the top a steady stream of animals, trotting silently, purposefully along. Leadbitter turned to see why they had stopped, and looked up, too.
‘Ours,’ he said briefly. ‘Come on!’
When at last they turned the corner at the end of the street, they found themselves by a churchyard.
‘St Michael’s!’ said Rosemary.
‘It’s a ruin, isn’t it?’ asked John.
Rosemary nodded.
‘Only since the war. The tower is complete, though. People pay sixpence to go up and see the view from the top through the telescope. Is that where the headquarters are?’ she asked. ‘But how can we get inside? The keeper locks it every night.’
‘Well, tonight isn’t the first time he’s forgotten!’ said Leadbitter, and trotted across the road and up to the iron studded door. ‘Go on! Open it! We have other means of getting to the top, but you will have to use the stairs.’
John turned the handle. The door opened easily. It was dark inside the tower, but as their eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, they saw a winding stair up which they followed their guide, who was, of course, able to see perfectly well. As they stumbled up behind him, they passed three narrow windows, by which they paused to regain their breath. Through the first they saw they were level with the second floor windows of the houses opposite. Through the second window they were level with the roof tops. But when they plodded rather breathlessly past the third window, they could see nothing but the deep blue of the night sky. At last they reached the belfry where the three church bells hung, silent, above them. Rosemary put up her arm as something swooped and fluttered around their heads. It was a bat.
‘A disgraceful intrusion!’ it complained in a high, peevish voice. ‘Bats in the belfry I always understood it was, not dozens of cats, and now two great lumbering humans as well!’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Rosemary. ‘We didn’t mean to disturb you, and we will try not to lumber.’
‘Hearing humans, eh?’ twittered the bat. ‘Well, I suppose that’s different,’ and he darted through the open trap door above them.
Leadbitter, followed by John and Rosemary, climbed up the wooden ladder that led to the square of star-studded sky. He paused as a cat’s head was outlined against the stars, and a pair of green eyes looked down on them. ‘Halt, and give the password!’ said the head.
‘Haddock heads!’ said Leadbitter. ‘I’ve brought the sir and miss.’
‘The Councillor is waiting for you. Look lively and come up.’
They came out into the night air. Many times Rosemary had paid her sixpence and climbed the tall church tower to look through the telescope which stood at the top. You could see the roofs of Fallowhithe spread beneath. Away in the distance to the south, across the fields, you could see the smudge of houses that was Broomhurst. But that, of course, was in daylight. With John she came out, not on to the leaded roof she had expected, but on to an uneven rocky hollow, surrounded, not by the carved pinnacles of the church tower, but by strangely formed jagged rocks. There was no telescope. Where Rosemary thought it stood was a little, stunted tree. But they had no time to examine anything as Merbeck trotted up.
‘My dear John and Rosemary, you are just in time! From here you will be able to watch the progress of the attack in safety. What are you fidgeting for, Leadbitter? Yes, yes, of course you may go now!’
Leadbitter gave a quick bow to Rosemary.
‘Good luck, my boy!’ called Merbeck. ‘For Queen and country! I only wish I were ten years younger!’ But Leadbitter had already disappeared.
‘But where is Queen Blandamour?’ asked John.
‘She insisted on addressing our faithful Fallowhithe animals before the attack.’
‘Like Queen Elizabeth the First at Tilbury before the Spanish Armada,’ whispered Rosemary.
‘She is surrounded by a powerful bodyguard, and already she should be on her way back here. But come and see.’
He led them to the rocky parapet where several cats, who were gazing down, made room for them. From their dizzy pinnacle of rock they could see Fallowhithe spread out beneath, but just as the roof of the high place had seemed not a roof but a grassy plateau, so it seemed in the clear starlit night that they were looking down, not on the roofs and chimneys of a town, but on a mountainous, craggy country, scored with valleys and canyons. It stretched away to the north till it was lost in the darkness. To the south, a low range of hills narrowed to what looked like a spur of land, which dwindled in its turn into a ribbon which pointed straight as a ruler into the darkness where they knew Broomhurst must be.
‘Is that the Causeway?’ asked John.
Merbeck nodded.
There was a low mist over the fields on either side which might well have been the sea.
‘It all looks so peaceful!’ said Rosemary.
‘Maybe,’ said Merbeck. ‘But wait until the clocks strike midnight! My spies discovered that that is when the attack is planned. Do you remember the old skating rink?’
Rosemary nodded. She remembered the rink as a low building enclosed by a jumble of tall shops and offices. The Councillor waved with his paw toward a low lying hollow surrounded by rocky hills.
‘That is one of the places where the Broomhurst cats plan to gather, when they have crept in secretly by the Causeway, and there they expect to be joined by their friends who have already wormed their way into the town. There is a second meeting place to the north on Fire Station Heights.’
‘But I can’t see any cats!’ said John.
‘There is nothing so still as a cat that does not wish to be seen,’ said Merbeck. ‘Wait!’
As he spoke, behind them the Cathedral clock struck twelve, with its deep, booming voice, to be joined by the quick eager chimes of the clock of the Market Hall. Hard on its heels came the station clock, and like distant echoes sounded the clocks of St Anne’s Church and Fallowhithe High School. When there was nothing left of the chimes but a faint vibration in the air, Merbeck said, ‘Now look at Skating Rink Hollow!’