‘Something’s moving!’ said John.
‘The enemy!’ said Merbeck.
It was as though the surface of the hollow was a giant cauldron, and someone was stirring it with a huge wooden spoon. Little eddies of cats ran up the surrounding slopes and joined the ones already there.
‘Hm,’ said Merbeck, ‘there were more of them already here than I imagined.’
He turned toward the Causeway. It was as though in the dark, out of sight, a bottle of ink had been spilled along its width, and had seeped along the top toward Fallowhithe.
‘Broomhurst cats,’ said Merbeck briefly.
‘Two hundred strong they must be!’ said one of the animals standing at Merbeck’s side.
‘Oh dear, can’t we do something?’ said Rosemary anxiously. ‘Before it’s too late!’
‘Have patience. Remember they do not know we have been warned!’ said Merbeck.
The Causeway cats had nearly reached the walls, or hills, of Fallowhithe. ‘Give the signal,’ he said sharply. ‘Now!’
The cat beside him threw back his head and gave a low bubbling cry which rose in the air, growing shrill and clear till it split the silence like a bugle call. Far away came an answering cry, then from different parts of the town, another and another.
‘You see we are not unprepared! That was the signal for the defenders to advance!’ said Merbeck. ‘Now watch. Their orders are to stop the animals on the Causeway from joining their friends on Skating Rink Hollow and Fire Station Heights, both of which are surrounded by picked Fallowhithe cats.’
Something was happening on the Causeway. At the sound of the bugle call the oncoming army of Broomhurst cats halted, then they moved on again more slowly. They kept closely together, but finding themselves unhindered, quickened their pace until they reached the slopes that were the first roof tops of Fallowhithe, and as they spread out and moved up the incline, the slope on the other side seemed to come alive and move up to meet them. It was the Fallowhithe cats who had been waiting, so still and silent that they had seemed part of the landscape itself. With bloodcurdling cries they surged up to the top and hurled themselves on the enemy, spitting their defiance.
From the lookout John and Rosemary could see the struggling mass swaying first one way and then another.
‘But we can’t tell what’s happening!’ said Rosemary in distress.
‘I think all is going well!’ said Merbeck. ‘We shall know more when the dispatches start coming in. I wish Her Majesty were here to watch. It is high time she returned,’ he said uneasily.
But John and Rosemary were looking towards Skating Rink Hollow. This was farther away, so that they could not see so clearly what was going on. But whereas it had looked like a cauldron stirred with a spoon when the enemy cats first began to move, it now looked as though the cauldron was boiling furiously, as more and more Fallowhithe animals hurled themselves into the hollow. From time to time a rallying cry would break the silence of the night with its shrill eerie note, while small skirmishes broke out all over the town as the Broomhurst animals scattered, spitting and swearing.
The clocks chimed the quarter, and the half hour, and a messenger cat came panting up to Merbeck.
‘The Causeway fight is going well, sir. A number of the enemy have turned tail!’
‘The Fire Station Heights affair is satisfactory, sir!’ said another cat breathlessly. ‘But there is trouble at Skating Rink Hollow. We’re outnumbered!’
‘Bring up some of the reserves,’ snapped Merbeck. ‘Better use the Garbage Foragers – scum of the town, but magnificent fighters!’ he added for John’s benefit. ‘Why does not Her Majesty come?’
‘Councillor! Sir!’ said a voice. ‘It’s Leadbitter! He’s wounded.’
They turned. Leadbitter stood panting behind them. One ear was torn, and there was a gash in his side.
‘Terrible news!’ he said. ‘The Queen! She’s gone!’
29
Minuscule Magic
‘The Queen gone?’ repeated Merbeck. ‘When? How did it happen?’
‘She was returning after her speech. Things were getting pretty hot, and the Captain of the Queen’s Guard enrolled a few cats who were passing – in case of trouble – and I was one. Well, we were in a solid ring around her, nose to tail, and one minute she was there… and the next… she was nowhere to be seen!’
‘Does anyone else know this besides the bodyguard?’ asked Merbeck anxiously.
‘I’m afraid they do. The Captain called to every cat in Fairfax Market to search.’
‘Fairfax Market!’ said John and Rosemary together.
‘Can you tell us exactly where it happened?’ asked John.
‘We were in Cat Country. We’d jumped down to the pavement to avoid a skirmish between half a dozen animals, and we were keeping well into the wall, when a window opened just above. A human looked out and laughed, not a nice noise it wasn’t, and then… the Queen was gone!’
‘Her white coat must have shown up as clearly as spilt milk,’ said Merbeck.
‘Quick,’ said John. ‘Can you remember anything about the house you were near?’
‘Not much,’ said Leadbitter. ‘I was too busy. Hold on though! There was a door that opened and closed very quickly while we were searching. I looked around when I heard a bang, and it was scarlet half way down.’
‘Mrs Cantrip!’ said Rosemary.
John nodded grimly.
Another messenger came up.
‘Sir Councillor, things are going against us! A fresh wave of the enemy has stormed the Causeway, and Fallowhithe cats are falling back. They’ve heard the Queen has disappeared, and it’s shaken ’em badly!’
‘Come on, Rosie!’ said John. ‘It looks as though we may be able to help after all.’ He turned to Merbeck. ‘If Mrs Cantrip has got her, we’ll get her back, somehow!’
‘Of course we will!’ said Rosemary stoutly. ‘Come on, John!’
‘Hurry!’ said Merbeck. ‘There is no time to lose!’
Together they scrambled down the rocky chasm, which they knew led to the belfry. Once their feet were on the wooden ladder the shadowy cat world disappeared, and although they neither of them stopped to say so, it was a relief to feel the solid firmness of the winding stairs, even though they had to feel their way down in the dark. The bank of cloud had mounted higher in the sky, and as they ran through the churchyard, there was a low rumble of distant thunder. They did not stop to look up at the swaying battle on the roofs of the houses opposite, but ran as fast as they could to Fairfax Market. Without stopping to think what they would do next, they hammered on the scarlet front door of Mrs Cantrip’s house.
It opened quickly.
‘It’s you, is it? I thought as much, for all your talk of backing out,’ said the old woman accusingly to Rosemary.
Rosemary had no time to point out that she had never talked about it at all, before John demanded fiercely. ‘Queen Blandamour! Where is she? You’ve got her hidden somewhere!’
‘If you’re so certain, you’d best come in and see for yourselves!’ said Mrs Cantrip, with a mocking curtsy.
They followed the old woman through the bare room inside the front door, which had nowhere to hide a fly, let alone a well-grown, white cat, and into the little kitchen beyond.
‘Where is she?’ repeated John.
Mrs Cantrip sat herself down in the rocking chair and began to rock herself to and fro.
‘If seeing’s believing, and you can’t see her, well, it proves she isn’t here, young man. So look as much as you’ve a mind to. Then perhaps you’ll leave a law-abiding old woman to her night’s rest.’
John and Rosemary stood in the middle of the floor. By the flickering light of a candle in a bottle they looked around. It was very quiet in the little room. There was no sound except the rhythmical rocking of the chair on the tiled floor. An occasional scuffle outside was the only sign of the battle that was raging above them. There was nothing behind the cloak that hung on a peg on the door. Their hopes were raised by a tall thin cupboard by the fireplace, but when they looked inside there was nothing but Miss Dibdin’s flying besom, and an ordinary sweeping broom very upright in a corner, as though it did not much care for the other’s company. Mrs Cantrip chuckled at their disappointment.