“Well, I’m sorry. I thought it was necessary,” said Penelope, “and nobody will be surprised, because you’re a bad spy.”
“ ’Ere, I don’t think that’s fair, when I’d only done ’alf the course,” said Ethelred, pained. “I’m very good, really. I can do an ’Ungarian fishmonger with three motherless daughters to the life. Least, that’s wot me mum said. Would you like to ’ear me? Or I can do a Polish count wot’s fallen on evil times and ’ad to sell ’is castle and whatnot.”
“Some other time,” said Parrot. “What we want to know now is, how do we get into the drains?”
“ ’Ere,” said Ethelred, “you can’t expect me to give away all the secrets.”
“I think,” said Penelope, winking at Parrot, “that Ethelred does not realize that we’re offering him a very important job.” “Wot, me?” said Ethelred, puzzled. “Wot job?”
“Master counterspy,” said Penelope solemnly.
“Cor, wot, me?" said Ethelred, his eyes protruding even more with excitement. “Wot’s one of them, then?”
“It’s the most important kind of spying you can do,” said Peter.
“Yes,” said Simon. “Frightfully important work.”
“Coo,” said Ethelred, much impressed. “ ’Ow do you do this, then?”
“Well, you go on pretending that you’re spying on us for the Cockatrices, ” said Penelope, “whereas in reality you’re spying on the Cockatrices for us. That’s why you’ll be called Master Counterspy X.”
“Why Master Counterspy X?” asked Ethelred. “Why can’t I use me own name?”
“Because master counterspies never do,” said Peter. “They’re much too important to use ordinary names.”
Ethelred thought about this for a little bit. “Would I ’ave to use disguises, like?” he asked. “It’s just that disguises is one of me better bits, really, and I wouldn’t like to ’ave to give it up.”
“Of course you'll wear disguises,” said Penelope, “and most of the time you’ll be wearing the most fiendishly cunning disguise of all.”
“Wot’s that, then?” asked Ethelred, his eyes protruding with eagerness.
“You’ll be disguised as yourself,” said Penelope. “As a Toad.”
“But ’ere, steady on, then. Them Cockatrices know I’m a Toad,” protested Ethelred.
“That’s the fiendishly clever part,” said Simon. “Because under the disguise of a Toad, you’re really Master Counterspy X.”
“Cor,” said Ethelred, understanding dawning on his face. “Cor, that ain’t ’alf clever, that ain’t. Coo, that’s the most spying bit of spying wot I’ve ever ’eard of.”
The children sighed with relief and Parrot exchanged a glance with H.H.
“So you’ll take on this highly important assignment?” asked Penelope.
“Oh yes, miss, please,” said Ethelred, his eyes shining. “And may I say, miss, it’ll be a pleasure for me to serve with anyone wot’s as pretty as wot you are, and ’oo ’as got a mastermind like wot I’ve got.”
“Thank you very much,” said Penelope, trying not to laugh. “And now if H.H. will be kind enough to give us some food, we can plan our campaign.”
So they all went back into the big room and Penelope helped H.H. to serve up a delicious meal of vegetable soup, roast lamb and green peas, baked potatoes stuffed with cream and butter, followed by fresh strawberries encased in whipped cream and meringue and surrounded by ice cream.
“Gosh, that was a splendid meal,” said Peter, finishing his second helping of the strawberries.
“It’s just one of these little banquets that H.H. likes to run up,” said Parrot. “He’s a very good cook, really. Of course, the moon-carrots help—they’re so versatile.”
“Yes, you keep mentioning moon-carrots,” said Penelope, “and you were singing about them when we first met. What are they?”
“One of H.H.’s better inventions,” said Parrot. “They look like red and white striped carrots. We have one crop a year. We have the Moon-carrot Gathering Ceremony, then they’re hung up to dry.”
“When they’re dry, they look like this,” H.H. said and placed on the table a long carrot-shaped vegetable which was hard, like a gourd. “As they dry, the instructions start to appear. Look!” On the side of the moon-carrot the children could see, written in neat gothic script with a lot of twirls and squiggles, the legend: Roast leg of pork—Empty contents into casserole and put in a two-log oven for two hours. Baste frequently. Breaking open the moon-carrot, H.H. showed them the contents, a brownish powder.
“Do you mean to say that everything we’ve just eaten came from that?” asked Simon incredulously.
“Yes,” said H.H. modestly.
“And it’s not like ordinary tinned or dried packet stuff,” said Parrot, “because this is actually grown in the ground, so it’s lost none of its goodness.”
“Incredible,” said Peter.
“H.H. invented that in 1596,” said Parrot. “He was always ahead of his time with his inventions.”
“I really think you’re the most marvelous magician,” said Penelope. “All your inventions are so practical."
“Well, well, that’s kind of you,” said H.H., blushing a little, “but we must give most of the credit to the Great Books. Without them, I can do very little.”
“Yes, so it’s essential that we get them back,” said Parrot. “Now, let’s map out our campaign. First, where’s that plan of Cockatrice Castle?”
“I have it here,” said H.H., pulling a roll of parchment from his robes. They spread it out on the table.
“Now, Ethelred, my lad,” said Parrot. “Where’s this drain you’re talking about?”
Ethelred pored over the plan, gulping with concentration, his wig perched slightly over one eye, his hat on the back of his head. “Well, ’ere’s the drawbridge,” he said at last, “and ’ere’s the Chief Cockatrice’s living quarters, and ’ere are the barracks where the rest of ’em ’ang out. Then down ’ere is the main dungeon where they’ve got the Great Books; ’ere’s the torture chamber where they’ve got the eggs.”
“My lovely eggs,” squeaked Tabitha.
“Now, don’t go fainting again,” said Parrot testily. “We haven’t time to waste giving you first aid.”
“Now ’ere,” Ethelred went on, jabbing at the plan with his thumb, “ ’ere are the two smaller dungeons, wot are never used, except for storage. I was sent down there one day to get a chair, and I found this sort of drain thing, see? So I went along it, just for a lark, like, and I found it went under the moat and came out in the fields over ’ere. So I says to meself, I says, Ethelred, I says, mark my words, that’ll come in useful sometime—and it ’as.” Ethelred beamed at them happily.
“I think that was very clever of you,” said Penelope.
Ethelred blushed to the roots of his wig.
“Now ,” said Simon, frowning at the map. “If we get in here, we’ve still got to get to the sentries and deal with them before we can rescue the Books.”
“You can’t rescue the Books,” said Parrot gloomily. “At least not that way. Each Book weighs about three hundred pounds and measures six feet by three.”
“Good heavens,” said Peter. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“But, my dear Parrot,” said H.H., “they don’t have to rescue the Books. They can just get the recipe for dealing with Cockatrices, which I’ve so stupidly forgotten, and then we can drive the Cockatrices out of the Castle and rescue the Books.”
“Of course,” said Simon excitedly. “You’re quite right, H.H. If we can get in and get the right spell, that’s all we need.” “Now, all we have to think of is a way of frightening the guards,” said Peter. “What frightens Cockatrices?”