by Natasha Lowe
Chapter Twenty-Four
How to Defeat an Army
DELLA COULDN’T HELP THINKING ABOUT her family as she followed Dame Bessie and the others toward the camp. How her mum never minded when Della used to make camps under the kitchen table, covering the floor with all the cushions from the living room and hanging blankets around the edges for walls. Robbie used to crawl in after her, and they would sit there eating cookies, waiting for Henry and Sam to try to sneak in.
“Careful,” Faye whispered as Della tripped over a tree root, stumbling into her. “You’re not looking where you’re going.”
“Sorry,” Della apologized, realizing she needed to concentrate. They walked on in silence for a few moments before Della whispered, “I wonder if Lord Hepworth and his brother ever got along.”
“They most certainly did,” Dame Bessie replied softly. “I remember them as boys, chasing through the woods and laughing, pelting each other with acorns, but always in fun. Now no more talk.” Dame Bessie put a finger up to her lips. “We’re getting close.”
They had crept around the hill and were hidden behind a cluster of oak trees. Della spied two of the knights on lookout duty, although they were slumped against each other, and both seemed to have their eyes closed. Clearly they weren’t expecting an attack, but they didn’t look ready to carry out an attack either. The camp was close enough now for Della to see how tired and hungry the men looked. Most of them were sitting around the fire, which seemed to be more of a smoldering fizzle. There was an iron pot in the embers but no steam coming out, so Della guessed it was empty. Some of the men chewed on what looked like hard crusts of bread, while others simply stared into the distance. Many of the knights had holes in their boots with bits of cloth wrapped around them.
It was easy to pick out Lord Hepworth’s brother, James, pacing around the fire, sweeping his arm in a wide circle. Della could hear him speaking in a loud, but slightly hoarse voice, obviously trying to perk up his army.
“By tomorrow eve, all this will belong to me, and each of you will be recognized for your loyalty and bravery.” A number of the knights kept yawning, as if they hadn’t had much sleep in a while. Which they probably hadn’t, Della guessed.
Dame Bessie nodded at the girls and held up her broom. “Are we ready?” she mouthed. Della wasn’t sure she was ready at all, but the rest of the girls nodded back. They all raised their makeshift wands in the air, and without really knowing what she was doing, Della jumped in front of them.
“No!” she blurted out softly. “We can’t. It’s—it’s just not what witches do.”
“Out of the way, Della,” Dame Bessie whispered. “We have to fight them to save ourselves. To get protection from Lord Hepworth.”
“Otherwise we’re going right back to the dungeon,” Faye hissed. At the mention of the word “dungeon,” Gwyneth’s lip started to wobble.
“I can’t.” Della shook her head. “Rolling them up is not the answer.”
“Then what do you suggest?” Willow snapped, looking into her bowl. “Because I’m tired and hungry, and I want to go home.”
Della thought for a minute, a wild idea floating into her head. “Lasagna!” she whispered with a smile. “It’s hard to stay mad over lasagna!”
“Lasagna?” Willow looked at the others. “Does anyone know what she’s talking about? Because I have no idea.”
“I do,” Mary said. “And it’s wonderful.”
“Willow, can I please borrow your bowl?” Della asked. But Willow made no move to hand it over. “Please,” Della begged, “it’s important.”
“This is all I have for protection.”
Dame Bessie touched Willow’s arm. “Give it to her, Willow,” she urged. “I trust that Della knows what she’s doing.”
Della wasn’t at all sure she knew what she was doing, but she had to try. “You mustn’t follow me, though,” she insisted. “If it goes wrong and I end up getting thrown back in a dungeon, then I’ll need you to help me escape.”
“You can’t go in there alone,” Faye whispered. “Not with all those knights. It’s far too dangerous.”
“Dame Bessie, please?” Della said. “You have to trust me.”
“I trust you, but Faye is right.” Dame Bessie was silent for a moment, staring into the distance. “Very well,” she finally agreed, “but at the first sign of trouble, we’re coming in.”
Being as quiet as she could manage, Della crept toward a large, freestanding boulder about fifty feet away from the camp. Since she was approaching from the trees, it was easy to slip in unnoticed. Della crouched behind the stone, trying not to think that this was a completely mad idea. She ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at the knots. The fact that she couldn’t remember when she had last washed it was not a good sign, and if she wanted Lord Hepworth’s brother to take her seriously, then she couldn’t go strolling in with wild witchy hair. Waving the spoon above her, Della said a quick tidy up spell, happy to discover she had a head full of neatly woven braids again.
“All right, here goes,” Della murmured, and brandishing the spoon over the bowl, she whispered, “Italiomama.” Almost immediately a delicious aroma of bubbling cheese filled the air, and Della could see men lifting up their heads to sniff.
“Anybody hungry?” Della called out, carrying the bowl into the camp and hoping that the men wouldn’t recognize her as one of the wild-haired witches from earlier.
“State your name,” a knight barked, scrambling to his feet and marching over.
“I’m Della Dupree of Potts Bottom. And I thought I’d make you something to eat.” Just the smell of the lasagna gave her confidence, and Della held her head high as she walked toward them, trying to take deep, slow breaths, although she could feel her heart racing.
James Hepworth eyed her suspiciously. “If you come from Potts Bottom, you’ve been sent by my brother, and this is bound to be poisoned.”
“I can assure you it isn’t,” Della said, sticking her spoon in to take a taste. She flapped a hand in front of her mouth and hopped about. “Hot, hot—but delicious.”
“Why would you do such a thing?” James asked, and Della couldn’t help noticing that he had a big holey run in his woolly tights.
“I’ve been watching you,” Della admitted. “And you all look rather cold and extremely hungry.”
“We are,” one of the knights said, ignoring his leader’s scowl. “Well, we are. Very.” He held out a hard crust of bread, and Della covered it with the gooey, bubbling lasagna.
“This should warm you up.”
“Very well, you may test it for us,” James said, not that the knight needed permission. He had already lifted the crust up to his face and inhaled deeply. Della watched him pick off a crispy edge piece of lasagna and pop it into his mouth. A look of such ecstasy rolled across his eyes that James asked, “How is it?”
“Like heaven in my mouth,” the knight replied.
And without hesitating, the rest of the knights gathered around the bowl, using their fingers and bits of stick to scoop up the lasagna. They ate and ate until their bellies were full and drops of sauce and cheese clung to their beards.
“The most wondrous meal of my life,” one of the knights sighed, licking his greasy fingers.
“Now let’s get a fire going and warm you all up,” Della suggested, knowing that this was the risky part, using magic in front of them. Actually, it wasn’t just risky; it was extremely dangerous and probably very stupid. But the knights were calm and well fed and could (hopefully) see that she didn’t want to hurt them. Della waved her spoon over the embers, murmuring a simple fire spell. Within seconds the ashes had burst into life, and a blazing fire drew the men close. Except for a red-haired knight who shielded his face with his hands.
“ ’Tis sorcery!” he cried out. “Such a thing cannot be done without powers.”
“Then she must be an angel,” a small, bearded knight said in all seriousness, warming himself near the flames.
&
nbsp; Della smiled at him. “Show me your boots, please. You can’t walk in those. They’re coming apart at the seams.” The knight stood in front of Della, and she tapped each of his boots with her spoon. “Fixirpiccilo,” she chanted, and the leather sewed itself neatly back up.
“See, an angel!” The knight grinned. “Now I can march without getting my feet wet.”
“Exactly. Nothing worse than wet feet,” Della agreed. She looked around the circle of men. “If you all line up, I can fix everyone’s boots.”
“Sire, there is witchcraft at work here. Can’t you see it?” The red-haired knight paced about, throwing furtive glances at Della. “We are being trapped in a web of kindness.”
“Then I like being trapped,” one of the knights in front of the fire said, holding out a stale crust. “Can I have more of… What did you say it was called?”
“Lasagna,” Della said, spooning another helping onto the fossilized chunk of bread.
As each of the men came up, Della fixed their boots and mended any tears in their clothes. “Much better,” she said, keeping an eye on Lord Hepworth’s brother, who kept glancing her way and was clearly keeping an eye on her, too. Finally, with a perplexed shake of his head, he came over and sat down beside her. The fire burned brightly as the men lolled in front of it, happy and content.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked
Staring into the flames for a minute, Della turned to him and said, “Because I don’t think you’re a bad person. And it’s nice to be able to help.”
James gave her a searching look. “Witch or angel, what are you?”
Before Della could reply, the redheaded knight yelled out, “Invaders! Invaders! Attacking from the river!”
At first Della thought it must be Dame Bessie and the others coming to rescue her, until she heard the pounding of hoofs. And even though the light had faded, Della could still make out the bulk of Lord Hepworth, riding into the camp on his horse. Another horse galloped beside him, and hopping along behind, much to Della’s dismay, came an army of angry hares.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Not So Scary after All
BY THE LIGHT FROM THE fire Della could see Lord Hepworth’s normally flushed face glowing an even deeper shade of crimson, whether from the riding or the shock of seeing Della in conversation with his brother, it was hard to tell.
“You, you—traitorous witch,” Lord Hepworth spluttered, sliding from his horse and pointing a finger at Della. “Mixing with the enemy.”
Ivan jumped down from the second horse. “Father, Della is not a traitor. She warned you about this attack.”
“You warned him?” James said, his face clouding with anger.
“And how did she know? Because she’s a witch,” Lord Hepworth fumed.
“A good witch that makes lasagna and mends our boots,” one of the knights murmured, giving a sleepy belch.
“She’s still evil,” Lord Hepworth stated.
“Della isn’t evil,” Ivan said stoutly. “You know that, Father, and from the look of things here, you do too, Uncle James.”
Lord Hepworth gestured at the hares, which, Della could now see, had ears the same spoon shape as the rats’ tails. “Then how do you explain this… this monstrous magic?”
The hares had flopped on the ground and appeared to be breathing heavily. One of James’s knights suddenly pounced on them, picking up a hare in each hand and swinging them around by the ears. “Hare stew,” he cried out.
“Put those down,” Lord Hepworth bellowed, scaring the knight into dropping them. “Those hares are not for eating, you numskull.”
“Will you all please calm down?” Della said, relieved that Ivan was here. She hoped Dame Bessie was keeping an eye on things, because from the way the brothers were glaring at her, Della had a strong suspicion she was going to need rescuing. “Look, I am not a traitor, or evil or any of the terrible things you think, okay?”
“Turning my knights into hares isn’t evil?”
“They were firing arrows and trying to catch us. And I was planning to turn them back again.”
“You escaped from my dungeon,” Lord Hepworth said, seething.
“But you shouldn’t have locked us up in the first place,” Della snapped. “We hadn’t done anything wrong.”
“You’re witches!”
“Yes, and that is not a crime,” Della exploded, anger taking over from fear.
“Talking to my brother is a big crime,” Lord Hepworth said. “Plotting with him to burn down Castle Hepworth.”
“I am not plotting anything, and your brother is no more evil than I am.”
“He is indeed,” Lord Hepworth blustered. “He tried to run a knife through me in my own bed.”
“I did not,” James interrupted hotly. “That is lies. All lies. Who told you such a thing?”
“My servant saw you creeping up in the night.”
“To talk with you, not to run a knife through you. Although I can’t pretend I didn’t feel like doing it, especially after your servant chased me off. Why do you get everything?” James complained. “The title, the lands, the castle, the villages, and I get a pig farm?”
“It’s the law,” Lord Hepworth pointed out. “I am the oldest brother.”
“By a few moments, that’s all,” James growled.
“Which does seem a little unfair,” Della said, giving Lord Hepworth a meaningful look. “Perhaps you could share with your brother? I mean, you have an awful lot of land and a great many villages, don’t you?”
The brothers eyed each other sourly. “You really weren’t trying to kill me?” Lord Hepworth muttered.
“No. But I was planning to attack the castle,” James admitted. “It’s hard to be so far away from where we grew up and to see you with everything. You had no right to banish me.”
Lord Hepworth sighed. “You were banished because I thought you wanted to hurt me. And all that stomping about the castle and yelling. Your behavior was disgraceful.”
“But if you had been the younger twin, you would probably have behaved disgracefully too,” Della pointed out.
“I might,” Lord Hepworth agreed rather grudgingly.
“So now that we’ve cleared that up, how about you both shake hands and be friends again. No more talk of running knives through each other or burning down castles, okay?” Della could hear them both grumbling to themselves, and she went on. “Remember how much fun you used to have playing in the woods when you were boys? Chasing each other and having acorn fights?”
There was a rather long silence, and then Lord Hepworth said, “How about if I give you Potts Bottom? You can build yourself a nice house and live comfortably with the rents from the village. There’s plenty of land for your knights, too.”
James pondered this for a moment and then gave a firm nod. “Very well, brother. That sounds fair enough.” And as Della and Ivan watched, something truly miraculous happened. The brothers grinned at each other and awkwardly hugged.
Ivan raised his eyebrows. “I never thought I’d see that happen,” he murmured.
“My mum always tells my brothers that talking it out is much better than fighting,” Della said. And wanting to keep the peace going, she decided that this was a good time to turn the hares back into knights. Della waved her spoon at them, watching the magic flow out in an explosion of turquoise smoke. Her arm tingled, and she gave a yelp. This sort of powerful magic really needed a proper wand. The knights went tumbling about like puppies. They untangled themselves and stood up, looking dazed and slightly confused.
“I’m famished,” one of them said. “All that hopping is exhausting.”
“Make them some lasagna,” James suggested, and there was a great cry of agreement at this.
So Della whipped up a fresh pot, which Lord Hepworth declared even more delicious than pheasant stew.
“I had no idea magic could taste this good,” he said, licking tomato sauce out of his beard.
“Because you don’t understa
nd it, that’s why. Where I come from, magic is a wonderful thing. We like to use it to help people and fix things. Witches are respected, not locked up in dungeons.”
“Look at our boots,” James said, showing off the repairs Della had made.
“And Della healed a really nasty cut on my leg,” Ivan added.
“Yes, and why do you think your castle has been so tidy lately and smelled so good?” Della questioned. “That’s all magic, Lord Hepworth.”
“But our witches are not like yours,” Lord Hepworth said, beginning to sound unsure. “They put hexes on people and turn milk sour, flying about on pigs and scaring villagers.”
Della shook her head in frustration. “It’s because they haven’t been taught how to use their magic properly, so it leaks out in dangerous ways.” Turning toward the woods, she beckoned and shouted, “Dame Bessie? Dame Bessie, come here.”
“What is this? What’s going on?” Lord Hepworth spun his head back and forth as Dame Bessie and the others walked toward them, Faye carrying Gwyneth, and Willow holding Isolda and Mary by the hands.
“These girls are all witches,” Della said, causing Lord Hepworth to take a step back. He glanced over at his guards, his hand hovering close to his sword. “Don’t look so scared. They’re not going to hurt you,” Della continued, but Lord Hepworth didn’t seem convinced. “This is the problem,” Della snapped, realizing that she was actually standing up to Lord Hepworth. These words were definitely coming out of her mouth, not just floating around in her head. And she suddenly wished that Anna and Sophie could hear her, defending witches like this. But Anna and Sophie weren’t here, and Della stopped for a moment, taking a shaky breath. She couldn’t think about her friends right now. “Just because you and the rest of the country don’t understand about witches, they have to live in fear of getting caught,” she finished up. Both brothers and all the knights were staring at Dame Bessie and the girls, who looked, Della thought, about as dangerous as a gaggle of kittens. As the silence stretched on, Gwyneth gave a little hop and a wave, calling over, “Witches are vewwy nice.”