The Warrior Sheep Down Under

by Christopher Russell

  Nat walked past, pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with dirty straw from one of the pens he was cleaning.

  “G’day, Nat,” said Frank. “How y’doing? Need any help with that?”

  Nat shook his head. “No worries,” he said. He was a big, strong man in his mid-twenties, with a suntanned face and cropped dark hair. He wore shorts and a bush shirt, like almost everybody else. He nodded at Ida and Tod as he strode past.

  “He seems a nice young man,” said Ida.

  “Yeah. He’s good,” agreed Frank. “Doesn’t have much to say for himself but that suits me. Most folks talk too much. And I really need his help now that…” He swallowed hard. “Well, now that Motte and Bailey aren’t around to do their bit.”

  “Uncle Frank,” said Tod. “Why do you call them Motte and Bailey? What were their real names?”

  “Those were their real names,” laughed Frank. “Their father was English and nuts about history. Especially medieval history. So he called his first son Motte, like the hill that castles used to be built on. Then he called his second son Bailey, like the big wall and courtyard they used to build around castles.”

  Tod giggled. “So if he’d had a third son, he could have called him Keep. Or Drawbridge.”

  Frank took the teat from the joey’s mouth for a minute to give it a rest from sucking. “Probably would have done,” he said. “Motte and Bailey were pretty keen on history too. Not to say nutty like their dad. They built the tower. Even dug the moat around it and filled it with water from the creek.”

  “I was wondering about the tower,” said Ida, taking the empty bottle from her joey’s mouth and popping the little creature gently back in its pillowcase. “What’s it used for,” she asked.

  The circular stone tower stood on an island in the middle of its water-filled moat, which was like a small lake. The tower was five floors high, with just one tiny window on each floor. A huge brass padlock hung from the heavy front door. And the only way to get to it was across a narrow bridge. The floor of the bridge was made of ropes, woven together, and there was just one rope on either side to hold on to.

  “What’s it used for?” repeated Frank. “Just the office. Motte and Bailey used to do all their paperwork and stuff in there. It’s always cool, see. A good place to store things away from the damp and the ants. Never likely to go up in flames either, and that’s important with all these gum trees around.”

  “Have you ever been inside?” asked Ida.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Frank. “I used to help out a bit with the money side of things. But not since they died.”

  “Why not?”

  Frank shrugged. “The solicitor, Mr. Creeply, came over right away and locked it up. Said nobody was to go in until he’d had a chance to go through all the papers and accounts and bank books and stuff.”

  “But that was months ago,” said Tod.

  Frank shrugged. “Solicitors tend not to rush things.”

  “Well, I hope he gets on with it soon,” said Ida. “The place looks like it could do with a good clean. You can hardly see through the windows.”

  “You can tell Mr. Creeply that when you meet him,” said Frank with a grin. “He’s supposed to be paying us a visit any day now.”

  Nat trundled past again with a barrow load of fresh straw.

  “Looking forward to it, aren’t we, Nat?” called Frank.

  “Not a lot,” grunted Nat. “Who wants a pen-pusher getting in the way?”

  “It’s a bit over the top for an office,” said Tod. “It looks really strong.”

  “Oh, it is,” said Frank. “You’d need a battering ram to get through the door. Building it properly was a sort of hobby with the old boys.”

  “Does it have a name?” Tod asked suddenly.

  “Course it does,” said Frank. “It’s called Maiden Tower.”

  9

  Not Maiden Tower

  The Rotapangi Road House was a rambling, homely backpackers’ hostel at the end of a winding track. Shelly parked Trevor next to a row of other trucks and jumped down from behind the wheel. The place was teeming with young men and women in shorts and T-shirts. And they were all laughing. The drivers of the other trucks were laughing too.

  “Nice one, Shel,” called one of the drivers. “You started doing sheep shearing holidays?”

  Shelly frowned, then looked up.

  “Holy-moly…” she gasped. Then she laughed with everyone else.

  • • •

  On Trevor’s roof, the Warrior Sheep were standing up stiffly and peering at the ground. The journey had been fun in a jaw-jarring way, but none of them were sure what to expect next.

  “How we gonna get down there?” asked Links.

  “Never fear,” said Sal. “Our fairy godtingy will show us what to do.”

  • • •

  Alice emerged from the truck. “What’s so funny?” she asked irritably. Then she too saw the sheep. She took a deep breath and shouted.

  “Deidre? Deidre!”

  Deidre was climbing out over the bags and suitcases. She stumbled to the ground, still feeling sick.

  “Is this your doing?”

  “No, Miss Barton, of course not,” breathed Deidre, wide-eyed and wobbling. “But isn’t it wonderful they didn’t drown.”

  Alice made no reply. She turned to Shelly, seething quietly. “Your problem, not mine. Just dispose of them. Terminally would be good.”

  Shelly wasn’t short of different advice from the other drivers.

  “You could drive round in circles and make ’em dizzy so they fall off…”

  “Or cut a hole in Trevor’s roof so they drop through…”

  “Or hire a helicopter and—”

  “Bring us some sleeping bags,” called Shelly to the watching backpackers. “And sweaters. Anything soft except your socks. We’re not trying to gas the poor guys. Give us those,” she added to Deidre, who was struggling to haul suitcases out of the truck.

  Shelly grabbed two of the nicest cases and dumped them on the ground. “They’ll make a good solid base,” she said, nudging them into position with her boot and daring Alice to argue.

  A dozen willing hands were now dragging and stacking the rest of the luggage, then draping and padding it with grubby sleeping bags.

  • • •

  Gazing down at the activity around the ever-rising pile, Wills said, “I think they want us to jump off.”

  “There,” said Sal, beaming, “Didn’t I tell you she would find a way?” And without warning, she leapt from the roof.

  The backpackers scattered as Sal whumped down on to their landing pad. They stayed well back as Oxo then Links quickly followed. Jaycey teetered on the edge for a moment.

  “Ohmygrass…What if I chip something?”

  “Just go for it,” said Wills. So Jaycey did and landed safely. She hopped out of the way before Wills could jump on top of her. Wills, being only a lamb, sprang from the roof and landed lightly on the heap, where he enjoyed bouncing up and down for longer than he needed to.

  “That’s enough, dear,” said Sal. “You’re getting too old to show off like that.”

  Alice was peering around angrily. “Where’s my hotel?” she demanded.

  Shelly nodded at the Rotapangi Road House. “You’re looking at it. There’s nothing else around here. It’s that or sleep in Trevor.”

  Alice’s mouth pursed into a tiny, cross crinkle. Then she smiled. “Very well, but be aware, Shelly, I shall remember all these little moments. Go and book my bungee jump while I check in. And Deidre…”

  “Yes, Miss Barton, I know. Bring the bags.”

  Alice stalked away. She was at the front door of the hostel before she realized that the little flock of sheep were close at her heels.

  “You can’t bring your pets inside, sweetheart,” said the man at the reception desk.

  “They are not my pets,” Alice said icily. “And I am not your sweetheart.”

  The receptionist shrugged and shut the door. “T
he woollies can stay round the back in the yard, if you like. You’re in dorm number two. It’s on the first floor.”

  Alice gulped. “Dorm?”

  “Dorm,” repeated the receptionist. “As in dormitory?”

  “As in sharing my sleeping place with strangers?”

  “Ah, they won’t be strangers for long. Not once they’ve broken wind and clipped their toenails on your bunk and talked all night.” He slapped a key into her hand. “Enjoy!”

  • • •

  The sheep stood with their noses against the hostel front door.

  “Has the fairy godtingy gone?” asked Jaycey.

  “Only for a moment, I’m sure,” said Sal. “We must stay here and wait for her.”

  Oxo’s tum rumbled loudly. “Waiting on an empty stomach’s bad for you,” he announced firmly. “I smell proper pasture.” And he trotted off, leading the way behind the parked trucks to the nearby riverbank.

  The Rotapangi River was wide and very fast. The water tumbled and raced along, bubbling in pools, swirling around hidden rocks, and crashing over falls. The grass on the bank was trodden down by the hundreds of human boots that walked on it every day, but it was still the nearest thing to a decent field the sheep had seen in a long time.

  Wills chomped for a while, then straightened up, gazing along the river. He’d noticed something a little farther along the bank: a tall, thin metal structure. Was it…could it be…a tower? The Maiden Tower that the fairy godtingy had talked to someone on the phone about, back on Destiny? It didn’t look like the ancient tower that Wills had seen in Tod’s book, but maybe there were different sorts. And he could see what looked like a little room at the top. The maiden in distress in Tod’s book, he remembered, had been locked in a little room at the top of her tower. Then again, the tower he was staring at had a metal platform outside the room and a rope dangling from the platform, directly above the river. Wills was perplexed. He put his head down and resumed grazing.

  • • •

  There were just two bunks left in dorm number two. The rest were piled with other people’s rucksacks.

  “I’ll have the top one,” said Alice to Deidre. “You can have the bottom. You don’t mind sharing with the luggage, do you, poppet?” She climbed up to the top bunk. “I’ve got a few calls to make while you fetch it. Run along.”

  It took Deidre three trips to lug all the bags up to the dorm. As she puffed in with the last load, Shelly bounded in past her.

  “Sorted,” she said, waving a fistful of papers. “I’ve booked your bungee jump. You’ve got five minutes.”

  “Five minutes?” said Alice, going pale.

  “Last slot of the day. After that, they’ve got a film crew booked in.”

  “Ooh,” gasped Deidre, dumping the bags. “Anyone famous?”

  “No, just some kind of animal show called Almost Human.” Shelly turned and frowned. “You good to go in that?” she asked, nodding at Alice who today was wearing white trousers and a sequined shirt.

  “Some of us don’t do scruff, poppet.” Alice smiled sweetly.

  “Your choice,” said Shelly and she bounded off again, back down the stairs. “Come on, let’s get the lady weighed in.”

  Alice hesitated, then followed. Pausing in the doorway, she turned to Deidre. “Stay here and guard the bags.”

  “Yes, Miss Barton. Good luck, Miss Barton. Remember to smile for the photo.” Then, in a rare moment of defiance, Deidre added under her breath, “Boing…boing…boing…” Fortunately, her employer didn’t hear.

  “Why do I have to be weighed?” Alice demanded when she caught up with Shelly outside. She was a little sensitive on the subject.

  “So you don’t smash headfirst into the river,” said Shelly. “They need to know how far you’ll stretch the bungee elastic. The heavier you are, the more it’ll stretch. So every one gets weighed and then the guys can adjust the length of the bungee rope accordingly. Yes? Good. In there.”

  They were on the riverbank now and Shelly indicated a small hut.

  The man in the hut noted Alice’s weight as she stepped off the scales.

  “OK,” he said. “Sign here, please.”

  “Why?”

  “To say that if anything goes wrong it’s not our fault.” He grinned. “Only joking. It just says you’re fit enough and healthy enough and mad enough to jump into space.”

  Alice’s hand began to tremble as she signed the form.

  Shelly was waiting outside the hut. “All set?” she asked brightly when Alice emerged.

  Alice didn’t answer. The tower reared above the river. An open-work metal structure like a ladder to the sky. The cabin at the top and the platform outside it, a tiny dot in the distance. Staring up, Alice gulped. And that’s when the sheep saw her.

  10

  Almost Human

  Mook!” mumbled Wills excitedly through a mouthful of grass. “Mour mairy mobmimmy!” He spat out the grass. “Over there. By the tower!”

  “Tower?” A collective grassy gasp swept through the little flock. They all remembered the stories of warriors and maidens in distress that Wills had told them while they were on the boat. They stared at their fairy godtingy walking toward the tower. Then they set off in pursuit at a gallop.

  “She never lets us finish eating…” grumbled Oxo, racing to overtake Sal and everyone else. He saw it as his duty to be in front whenever any charging about had to be done.

  • • •

  At the base of the tower, the door to the small cage-like elevator stood open. Its cheerful attendant was checking Alice’s paperwork.

  “They’ll gear you up nice and safely at the top,” she said. “Our bungee’s the strongest bit of stretchy rope in the Universe.”

  Alice swallowed hard but said nothing .

  “It’s easy,” continued the girl. “You just hold your arms out on either side of your body and lean forward like you’re a swallow flying. That’s all there is to it. You’ll tip over headfirst and the elastic’ll stop you just above the water.”

  Alice’s face was now the color of gray mud.

  Shelly gave her a kindly pat on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. And don’t forget to—”

  “Yes,” snapped Alice. “I know. Smile for the photo.”

  The next moment, Shelly was knocked off her feet by a hurtling wedge of wool and hooves. Alice was slammed against the back of the elevator cage with a stack of smelly, panting sheep pressed against her.

  “What is it with you ragbags?” Alice gasped. “What do you want!?”

  Wills would have thought this a strange question from a fairy godtingy, but he was squashed beneath Oxo’s bottom and didn’t hear it.

  “Oh, I get it,” said the elevator girl. “You’re Almost Human. Great program.” She closed the door on the elevator’s bulging load and sent it on its way.

  As the cage creaked upward, Jaycey asked, “Is this Maiden Tower, then?”

  “Almost certainly, dear,” said Sal. “Our fairy godtingy is showing us the way.”

  “So why can’t we hear tacky Tuftella,” said Jaycey, “if she’s up here?”

  “Good question,” said Links, glancing anxiously at the ground, now far below. “There is a total absence of moanin’, right?”

  “And we haven’t fought off any snapping monsters yet,” pointed out Oxo, sounding rather disappointed.

  The elevator cage jolted to a halt and the door opened. The sheep tumbled out into a little cabin. Alice followed. Her knees were turning to rubber. Through the opening opposite she could see a narrow ledge. Then space. Beside the ledge was a spindle, like a huge cotton reel bolted to the platform. And round the spindle was wound the elastic rope that would shortly be fixed to her ankles. Before she jumped.

  The sheep were nosing around the tiny cabin, searching for the maiden in distress. The jumpmaster and her assistant were confused and agitated.

  “So are you Alice Barton or Almost Human?” demanded the jumpmaster.

  And in
that split second, Alice saw a way to avoid the dreaded leap.

  “I’m Almost Human, of course,” she replied, like the top TV person she wasn’t.

  The jumpmaster turned away for a moment. “Keep those sheep away from the edge!” she shouted at her assistant.

  “Yes, do,” said Alice. “We actually only need one. That one.” She pointed at Sal.

  Sal nodded modestly at her fellow warriors. “Oh—I seem to have been chosen for something,” she said.

  Alice smiled breezily at the jumpmaster. “So, let’s do it up or whatever the technical term is,” she ordered.

  The jumpmaster frowned. “What, for a jump? We can’t make an animal jump!”

  “Of course not, you silly girl,” trilled Alice. “I just want it to look as if it’s going to jump. Almost Human? Yes? Our clever film guys will do the rest.”

  The jumpmaster sighed and shrugged dubiously, but nodded at her assistant. “OK, but keep the rest of them well back.”

  Apart from Oxo, who was testing the bungee rope on its spindle for chewability, the rest of the warriors watched with interest as Sal’s hind ankles were wrapped in nylon padding, then strapped tightly together. The assistant shooed Oxo away from the bungee rope and attached it through a plastic cone to the strapping around Sal’s ankles.

  Alice forced herself to walk out onto the ledge. She laughed gaily as she pressed her designer sunglasses onto Sal’s face. Alice would never have admitted she was sheep-shaped, but this one might just pass for her at a hundred miles an hour. And she was desperate enough to try anything. She just had to make her shove look like an accident.

  “Nice sheep…” she said, crouching close to Sal. She wasn’t great with animals. “Nice sheepikins…”

  • • •

  But Sal wasn’t listening. She was hobbling straight past the fairy godtingy, trailing the bungee rope behind her. Somewhere, beyond the edge of the platform, she could hear a sound she was sure she understood. A sobbing and sighing.

  “Tuftella!” she bleated as she reached the very edge. “We have come to save you!” And she hurled herself into thin air.