Chapter 17
After a most lovely day, spent with Percy and Maalox, Petronella was doing the washing up. Percy had gobbled down the shepherd’s pie she’d made for him. He was still licking his lips. She’d also managed to talk him into taking a warm bubble bath and had been shopping for him. He now had two pairs of smart trousers and shirts, a pair of jeans, two T-shirts and a bomber jacket. Percy said they were much nicer than the clothes he usually wore. He was expecting a new tunic and a smelly sheepskin waistcoat. His eyes widened at the steel-tipped army camouflage boots. He put them on right away. They were something else.
“Can I weareth them to goeth running in the woods?” he asked.
“We’ll talk about that tomorrow,” Petronella promised. “For now, please put on these new pyjamas and go off to bed.”
“I used to goeth to bed in myn tunic. I just taketh the belt off,” Percy said.
“That’s all changing now,” said Petronella. “You can’t wear the same clothes day AND night. Come on. Put those pyjamas on and off you go to bed.”
Percy did as he was told. He couldn’t believe his luck. How his life had changed for the better. He’d spent all day playing with Maalox, running around in the woods and splashing about in the lake. Though he missed his gran’ma. He didn’t remember his parents that well because they died when he was five. Even if he saw them, he wasn’t sure he’d recognise them.
As darkness came over Charis Cottage, Petronella heard a rustling sound outside her window. Percy was now fast asleep; she certainly did not want anyone waking him up. Could it be the wind in the trees again? She opened her curtains a little to get a glimpse of what was happening out there. As sure as her name was Petronella, she saw the figure of The Hooded Horseman standing there. She was now getting used to all these Strincas and wasn’t at all frightened of them anymore.
“You can come in. I was expecting you but not quite so soon,” she said.
The figure made himself comfortable in Petronella’s armchair.
“Well,” he began, “I hath cometh to ye to explain what ye duties be, Pe...tro...ne...lla. Because ye be THE CHOSEN ONE ye hath power over The Strincas. Ye can decideth what you wisheth. For example, which Strincas can continueth to liveth here in Fort Willow, or which of The Strincas must needs goeth back to the graves they was in. Nat only that, there be more. Ye be the only one who can maketh The Strincas see sense. They be hard-headed folk who do exactly what they liketh. But you can talketh them into doing what ye thinketh is best.”
“How do I do that?” Petronella asked.
“I hath here this special Metal Disc,” he said, taking out a round flat piece of metal about twice the size of an old penny piece. The Hooded Horseman handed it over to Petronella. She looked at it carefully. Both sides. It had TCO stamped on one side and a skull on the other.
“Pe...tro...ne...lla, all ye must needs do be to flasheth this Metal Disc in the faces of any Strincas and they shall be under your spell. But if ye flash the skull side at them, then they shall must needs goeth back to their burial place. Is that clear, Pe...tro...ne...lla?” The Hooded Horseman asked.
“Yes, I suppose it is. Let me get this right. If I hold this Metal Disc up at them the TCO side, they will do what I say. But, if I hold it up and they see the skull side, they will go back to wherever they came from.”
“That be correct, Pe...tro...ne...lla. The Strincas shall be all in ye power. But it doth nat worketh with me because I hath been the owner of The Metal Disc.”
“You Strincas seem such nice people. I don’t see why I would want to get rid of you,” Petronella said.
“Believeth me, nat all of them be nice. Some of them can be quite cruel. Looketh at Lord Fortesque and his men who madeth Percy worketh so hard in the fields. Under the hot sun and during the freezing winter months. He worketh until his fingers bleedeth. And they beateth him if he stoppeth for a rest. Like him, many other children, too. Lord Fortesque also gaveth the order of the cruel beheadings that taketh place in the year 853. How can they be nice folk, Pe...tro...ne...lla?” he asked.
“Will Lord Fortesque come back to life?” Petronella asked.
“Only The Strincas buried in the field shall cometh back here, if they be duggeth up. All the skeleton must needs be putteth together first. I be an exception.”
How was it that The Hooded Horseman knew about Percy? As if reading her mind he said:
“ Pe...tro...ne...lla, I know exactly who hath come backeth to life and who hath nat. But I cannat telleth ye who they be, or telleth ye what to do. You shall findeth out for yeself. Ye must needs only to use ye good sense to knoweth what to doth. I shall leave ye now, Pe...tro...ne...lla. I wish ye good luck. Please keepeth The Metal Disc in a safe place, if it be lost all The Strincas will stayeth in Fort Willow and ye shall not be able to control them anymore. Ye be the only one who hath the power to worketh the symbol because ye be THE CHOSEN ONE.”
“Can I just ask you about The Trogot? Please. This black tree is so creepy. It worries me, so much” she said.
But as Petronella looked up instead of seeing The Hooded Horseman she heard a horse’s hooves fading away in the distance. The Hooded Horseman had gone. Where he had been standing was a large black branch with black raindrops sliding off its black leaves. Petronella was in no doubt, let it be clear. This branch came from The Trogot. She was about to pick the branch up and take it outside. But as she reached out for it, the branch moved away. Petronella was just so frightened. She ran after it, tried to grab it again. But it lifted itself up and stuck itself to a figure standing behind her. The branch had now become an arm of the black monster trudging around her house. Was this the smaller version of The Trogot? No time to think about that. She called out to it. Who are you? But the figure opened the door and walked out slowly, heavily shuffling its feet. She locked the door behind it.
Petronella rushed up into the spare bedroom to see if The Trogot was still there. She couldn’t see it. It must have moved. She opened the window to get a better view. She still couldn’t see it. So she leaned out and looked left then... she was gripped by hard tentacles, twigs scratched her face as she shook her head trying to free herself. The branches had wrapped themselves around her in a nasty tight hug. She couldn’t move. Other branches locked themselves around her legs. Petronella found it hard to breath, a branch was now around her neck, tightening, tightening. She was gasping for air, tried to breathe in through her nose. But the air wouldn’t go down as far as her throat. It was no good, she couldn’t struggle anymore. She was now a limp body. Thank God, she fainted.
Chapter 18
The next morning Percy looked all around the house for Petronella. Where was she? She was nowhere downstairs.
“PETRONELLA,” he shouted. “Where be ye?”
Hearing his voice, Petronella came to. Had she just woken up from a bad dream?
“PETRONELLA!” Percy’s voice again.
“I’m here, in the spare room,” she called back, as loud as she could. Shouting made her chest ache. Could have been her lungs. She wasn’t sure. Percy came into the room and helped Petronella onto the bed.
“Hath ye spendeth all night on the floor?” Percy asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember. I think I must have had a bad nightmare.”
“But why didst ye nat goeth to ye bed last night? And the window. It be open.” Percy looked at the window and said: “It be all scratched. And ye neck, Petronella, it be red-sore, like a rope hath been around it.”
“Then it must have been true,” said Petronella. “It was the branches. It was The Trogot.”
“What be The Trogot?” Percy asked.
“It’s that big black tree behind the house. You can see it from this window. I leaned out last night to see if it was still there. As I did so, it attacked me. I think it nearly killed me.”
Percy looked out. He could see trees, but only green ones. “No, there be no big black tree out there, far as myn eyes can seeth.”
&n
bsp; “It moves,” said Petronella, “sometimes it’s there and at other times it isn’t. What else can I say?”
Percy knew that Petronella was starting to have the same problems his mother had had. Though he was very small, he could still remember that his mother was terrified by the black tree she said she could see from the same bedroom window. And she was too frightened to go to bed at night. Darkness was her enemy. Percy remembered his father telling her to stop being silly. That she wasn’t to worry. Now Petronella had this fixed idea as well.
“What’s the matter, Percy? What are you thinking about?” Petronella asked.
“It be nothing,” Percy answered. “Nothing, Petronella.”
Chapter 19
For Percy’s sake, Petronella got up and was determined to go about her housework as usual. She had to act normally, though she really did not feel well.
She noticed The Metal Disc The Hooded Horseman had given her the night before. It was still lying on the table.
“Now where shall I put this,” she said to herself. “Got to keep it in a safe place. Yes, I’ll put it in the larder. On the top shelf, at the back, under the mushroom basket. For as long as I am not holding The Metal Disc, it won’t work, so I needn’t worry too much about it.”
The next day Petronella put on her camouflage army boots, got The Metal Disc from the larder and slid it into her apron pocket. She was about to set off for the village to find out what Strincas were around. She headed off to the local supermarket first to see what she could find out. Down one of the aisles Mrs Bellamy was nattering away to another gossip. Petronella picked up a packet of biscuits and pretended to read about the contents on its box. But, of course, she was listening hard to what they were saying instead.
“... and all of a sudden there he was sitting on MY sofa. With a double-headed axe in his hand, I tell you. As real as I’m standing here. And he won’t budge, will he? Oh, no. He even had the nerve to tell me that it was his house and nothing I can do will make him leave. Yes, he says it’s HIS house. The cheek of it. Can you believe that?”
The other woman, a Mrs Riches from number 9 Myrtle Close, shook her head in disbelief. “Well I never. What’s the world coming to if you are not even master of your own home. I mean, is he a squatter? Is that what you’re saying? Yes, I reckon he’s just a weird squatter in fancy-dress. Can’t your husband throw him out?”
“No, he can’t because no way can you get hold of him. When my husband tries to grab him, his hands just go through this axeman. Strange because he LOOKS like he’s there in the flesh, but when you try to touch him, he’s not solid. He spent all night on the sofa and is always in my way.”
Mrs Riches was stepping backwards away from Mrs Bellamy now. She thought there must be something wrong with Mrs Bellamy. What was she talking about? It didn’t make sense.
Petronella, who, of course, had heard everything, ran up behind Mrs Bellamy and said:
“Good morning, Mrs Bellamy, I couldn’t help overhearing you and Mrs Riches...”
“Go away, you ugly hag. How dare you speak to me AND listen to my conversations? It’s because of the likes of you and that henchman in my house that Fort Willow is no longer what it was. Go back from where you came. And don’t ever, do you hear me when I say EVER, speak to me again!” she shouted.
Petronella was so shocked by Mrs Bellamy’s insults that she could only stand there in the biscuit aisle with her mouth wide open. Now what need was there to be so nasty. If Mrs Bellamy wouldn’t speak to Petronella, maybe The Axeman would. There was only one way. She needed to sneak into Mrs Bellamy’s house when both she and her husband were out.
Petronella stood behind Mrs Bellamy at the checkout. After Petronella had paid for the biscuits, she ran outside to see where Mrs Bellamy was going. Just in time - Petronella saw Mrs Bellamy disappear into the local tearoom. No doubt to spend the morning there with other gossiping villagers. A fine opportunity for Petronella to go and see The Axeman. She really had to be quick about flashing the skull at him and getting such a dangerous man back buried in that field before he harmed the people of Fort Willow. True, Mrs Bellamy didn’t deserve such kindness. Petronella wished she could let The Axeman stay in the house. But she also had to think of the safety of the other villagers.
Chapter 20
Nobody seemed to be in. Petronella rang the ding-dong-merrily-on-high doorbell. She pressed the botton again and got the same sing-song. No, The Axeman must be out. Then one of the curtains on the ground-floor twitched a little. Petronella saw this big head, with a robin-hood-like hat on it and wide shoulders covered in green felt. He’d changed out of his axeman clothes. That’s him for sure, thought Petronella. Waving to him she shouted: “Open the door. I need to speak to you.” The head was no longer there. Had it made its way down the corridor to open the front door?
After what seemed like a very long time indeed, Petronella heard The Axeman trying to unlock the door. And what a clatter he was making - he kept locking it and unlocking it. But he never managed to pull the door open when it was unlocked. Finally, he got it right and the door opened.
“I be nat used to these contraptions,” The Axeman said, as he laid eyes on Petronella. “God be with ye, lady. I never seeth such an ugly looking wench as ye,” he said, jumping a step back out of fright. By now, Petronella was used to comments like this and took no notice.
“Cometh in, lady,” The Axeman said, showing Petronella into the living-room. “I be on myn own. Mrs Bellamy hath gone out buying.”
“Yes, I know. I met her at the supermarket. I knew you’d be alone here, so I came to have a chat with you.”
Petronella looked at the axe on Mrs Bellamy’s flowered sofa.
“Doth nat worry, lady. I hath never used that axe. It be just for show. I were Lord Fortesque’s soldier. I were supposed to killeth folk, but I never doth that. I promise ye. Ye see, I hath always been too kind for that. I pretendeth to axeth folk. Other soldiers, they really doth killeth villagers, mind. But nat me. I used to goeth round pretending. I sayeth I killeth ten peasants today. Lord Fortesque’s soldiers sayeth to me ‘Where be the bodies?’ I hath no bodies. Then the soldiers, they killeth me when they findeth out I were fibbing.”
“Oh,” said Petronella, “I’m very sorry to hear that you were killed. But I’m very happy that you didn’t kill others. I wouldn’t like to be sitting next to a murderer.”
“I be no murderer, lady. I swear it on myn pigs.”
“Your pigs! What pigs?”
“Myn pigs, lady. You knoweth what pigs be, surely? Pink they be and fat.”
“Yes, I know what pigs are, you nincompoop.”
“I be no nincompoop, lady. I be a pig-farmer. Happy I be until Lord Fortesque and his soldiers maketh me joineth them. A good man I be. I cryeth when those soldiers killeth our poor folk. I keepeth pigs here in this very spot. Mind ye, looketh at the place now. How can anyone keepeth a garden only for decoration?”
He turned his head towards the French-windows and looked out at the neatly-trimmed lawn and colourful flowerbeds with disgust.
“That there garden were full of pigs, so it were. Ye should hath seen them, lady. They was myn pride and joy. Myn pride and joy, I telleth ye. Pearly and Pinikins, they was my prize pigs. I were the envy of the village, so I were.”
So what could Petronella do? This man was no danger to anyone. She surely couldn’t make him go back to his burial place. He was much nicer than Mrs Bellamy. The madam would just have to put up with him. No, Mrs Bellamy was not going to be happy. But Petronella had decided. The Axeman was here to stay. In fact, Petronella had a wonderful idea. She held up The Metal Disc to The Axeman’s face.
“I love pigs!” Petronella said with a smile.
“Ye doth? Ye telleth me no lie, lady?”
“No lie,” Petronella said. “I think you should start pig-breeding again. Plenty of space in that garden. There’s a farmer’s market on the outskirts of the village. Every Saturday morning from 9.00 to 11.00. You
can get a pig family to start you off. A sow, a big male pig and a couple of piglets. That should be enough to begin with. I’ll give you some money to get you started. You can give me the money back when you have bred piglets and have started selling them off. Why don’t you get some chickens, too? Then I’ll buy fresh eggs from you. What do you think of that?”
“What thinketh I? Me thinketh it be a most wonderful idea. Lady, I loveth ye. Ye be the best lady I ever meeteth. The best lady I ever hath knoweth. I shall starteth work today. I shall diggeth up that lawn and flowerbeds and buildeth some nice sties for myn new pigs.”
The Axeman’s eyes rolled downwards.
“What’s the matter? Petronella asked.
“Ye see, lady, when I sayeth that pigs be the best things ever and ye be the best lady in the world, I telleth a little porkie pie. There be someone who be better than all the pigs in the land. And, without offending thy good self, there be one lady most important to me. That be my wife, Gwendolen. She were good with pigs, she were. Though pigs looketh after themselves, mind. They be good like that. But my Gwendolen maketh the best pig’s swill for miles around. Being that it be the swill that maketh them fat and healthy. And she keepeth chickens as well. In the kitchen. Layeth their eggs in the corner cupboard, so they didst. Nice big ones. Brown and white.”
Petronella liked the idea of chickens laying eggs in Mrs Bellamy’s kitchen cupboards. She was so sorry she did not have the power to wake Gwendolen up from the fields and make The Axeman happy. But Gwendolen could already be wandering around somewhere in the village looking for her home, for all she knew.
“If there’s anything I can do to help you, please let me know,” Petronella said.
“Oh, lady, I shall be the happiest man dead-alive if I hath my Gwendolen back.” He cried.
“I promise I will help you all I can. But now I have to get back home.”
Petronella & the Trogot Page 5