29
Tuftella
The pillowcase was a long one, the type used as pouches for the joeys. Tod’s arms were enclosed, as well as his head, and though he struggled and kicked and wriggled, he couldn’t get free. A strong fist shoved him in the back and he stumbled forward. He heard a key turning in a lock, then he was shoved from behind again and felt himself pitching headfirst into space. He bounced painfully on stone steps, then splashed into cold water, and sank like a stone.
Ida wobbled across the rope bridge just as the door inside the tower slammed shut.
“Tod…” she called. “Wait for me…” She couldn’t see where Tod had gone. Then, as she walked into the tower, a pillowcase was thrown over her head too.
“Keep still and keep quiet,” a voice whispered in her ear. A moment later, she was stumbling against the unseen bottom step of the spiral staircase.
“Lift your feet…” the voice ordered. “Upstairs.”
Ida grazed her elbows and shins on the rough stone walls of the staircase as she was jostled upward. Finally, her captor leaned past her and unlocked a door. He shoved her inside, slammed the door behind her, and locked it again.
Outside the door, Nat drew a deep breath. He walked slowly down to the floor just below and stood peering out of the window. Things weren’t going entirely to plan. He drummed his fingers on the windowsill as he stared out. Where was she?
Far below in the dungeon, Tod was rolling over and over in the cold water, desperately trying to escape from the pillowcase. It was now soaking wet and clinging to his face. Water had seeped through the fabric and filled his mouth. He was choking and gagging. Drowning!
“It’s all right, mate…it’s all right…” A bony arm was suddenly under Tod’s body, lifting his head and shoulders clear of the water. Then a bony hand grasped the pillowcase and peeled it from Tod’s face.
“Uncle Frank!”
• • •
Inside the room at the very top of the tower, Ida tore off her pillowcase hood and found herself face to face with a young woman with pale skin, very long blond hair, and frightened blue eyes. She was holding a small Merino lamb in her arms.
The two women stared at each other.
“Who are you?” they both said in the same breath.
The pale woman opened her mouth to answer, but Ida was already looking desperately around the room. It didn’t really matter who this woman was. All that mattered was finding Tod. And Frank.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” she said.
“You can’t,” the pale woman said. “I’ve been locked in for weeks.”
Ida stared at her a moment more, then ran to the tiny window and peered down. Five floors below, she could see the narrow strip of stone around the base of the tower and the moat surrounding it. She jiggled the iron handle on the window frame. It clearly hadn’t been used for years. The circular room contained only a small bed and a table with a plate of half-eaten food. And there was a small three-legged stool.
Ida moved swiftly and picked up the stool. Then smashed it against the window.
“Right…” she said. “Start tying your sheets and blankets together to make a rope. We’ll need to rip them up first to make it long enough.”
• • •
In the dungeon, Frank and Tod were making their own escape attempt.
Most ancient towers which were surrounded by water had a water gate, and Motte and Bailey had made sure theirs did too. It was guarded by a portcullis: an iron grating that could be wound up or down to let small boats row right into the bottom of the tower.
Since he’d been thrown in the dungeon, Frank had spent hours standing knee-deep in water by the portcullis, using a bit of loose stone to scrape rust and dirt from a wheel fixed to the wall. The wheel was connected to the portcullis. If only he could turn the wheel, he would be able to raise the portcullis and escape.
Now he had Tod to help him, there was a chance they would succeed.
“Are you sure it was Nat?” he asked Tod for the umpteenth time as they scraped.
“Sure as I’m standing here with a lump on my head,” replied Tod. “I recognized his voice. And his smell: Joeys mixed with aftershave. Didn’t you?”
“No, mate. I didn’t know a thing. One minute I was sitting in the kitchen waiting for a call from you and your gran, and the next, Bang! Woke up in here. Shouted for hours, hoping Mr. Creeply in the office would hear, but these walls just soak up the noise. Motte and Bailey did too good a good job of building their precious Maiden Tower.”
• • •
On the fourth floor of the tower, Nat had suddenly straightened up. He could see a battered orange truck coming his way.
“Yes…” he breathed. “At last. This must be her!”
Shelly drove in through the sanctuary gate and pulled up near the house and animal shelters. By the time she’d walked round to the back of Normette, the sheep were out and running off.
Shelly turned with a shrug and a grin at Alice and Deidre.
“Well, here we are, guys. Barton’s Billabong. And still an hour till sunset.”
But her human passengers were already hurrying away too.
“Yeah, thanks for everything, Shelly,” she said to herself brightly. Then answered herself just as cheerfully. “No worries. You’re welcome.”
The warriors stood at the entrance to the rope bridge, gazing up at the tower.
“We’re here, right?” said Links in wonder.
“Yeah. So what’s next?” asked Oxo.
“In one of Tod’s books,” said Wills slowly, “the human maiden in distress was called Rapunzel, and she had very long hair…and she let it hang down and the prince, who was also a warrior, climbed up it and…rescued her. I think.”
“Sounds painful, man,” said Links. “An’ we’s not exactly climbing dudes, is it?”
But Sal was ready to burst forth. “Tuftella, Tuftella, let down your fleece!” she cried.
The others looked at each other, then joined in.
“Tuftella, Tuftella, let down your fleece!”
In the room at the top of the tower, Ida looked up sharply from the sheet she was ripping. She hardly dared believe it, but she knew she was right. “Our sheep…” she breathed.
But even her precious and much-loved sheep couldn’t distract her for long. She had to escape. She had to find Tod and Frank. She knotted the last two pieces of sheet firmly together.
“Tuftella, Tuftella, let down your…”
The pale woman’s pet lamb had been listening. Suddenly, it bleated in reply and leapt on to the windowsill.
Down below, the warriors stopped in mid-call.
“Tuftella!” breathed Sal.
“Mmmm…She’s well pretty,” said Links.
Oxo nodded in agreement. “Well pretty…”
They all stood gazing up.
“I think she’s a Merino,” said Wills.
“She’s a mess,” sniffed Jaycey. “But I thought we were supposed to be rescuing her?”
Oxo pulled himself together. “Right. Yeah.”
“And what’s more,” breathed Sal, “our fairy godtingy is still with us…We have nothing to fear.”
They turned to see their fairy godtingy approaching the rope bridge. She hesitated, then stepped onto it, holding tight to the ropes on either side.
“Follow the fairy godtingy!” shouted Oxo. “One for five and five for Tuftella!”
He charged at the bridge and was on it before he realized the floor wasn’t solid. The woven rope was not something a cloven-hoofed animal would normally step on. The others crowded on after him.
“Ohmyhoovesohmyhooves…” squealed Jaycey. “They’re going through the holes! Get off this thing! Run!”
The bridge swayed violently from side to side, like a swing boat at a fairground, as the sheep thrashed about, trying not to get their hooves trapped as they scrambled. Ahead of them, Alice lost her grip on the ropes, and with the next downward swoop, she toppled
off, splashing into the water below.
“Thank you, thank you,” cried Sal as the warriors hurried across. “Even to the last she is sacrificing herself for our sakes.”
Nat hadn’t seen the fall from the bridge. He’d already left the window on the fourth floor and was running to meet the woman with the plum-colored hair. He was halfway down the stairs of the tower when he met the sheep coming up. For a couple of minutes there was utter confusion. There was no space to push past them and they wouldn’t stand still when he tried to climb over them. The plan, he thought to himself, was definitely not going to plan. He finally pushed and shoved past the woolly mass and ran down the rest of the stairs. He stood with his back to the wall and waited, hidden in the shadows. It was going to be OK. She’d arrived. It was time for action.
The warriors continued on up, but it’s hard to hurry in tight upward circles on four legs and slippery stone steps. By the time they got to the top, they were all feeling very dizzy.
“Man, I’m spinnin’,” puffed Links, staggering against the wall.
“What a shame,” said Jaycey sniffily. “I thought you liked being in a spin over tacky Tuftella.”
Oxo looked at the heavy door in front of them. They could all hear a sobbing and sighing from the other side. There was plenty of tap tapping too.
“In olden times,” said Wills, “they’d use a battering ram.”
“Really?” said Oxo. “Look no farther.” And he lowered his great head and butted the door hard. It shook and rattled.
Inside the room, the sudden crash made Ida and the pale woman jump in alarm. They were standing by the broken window, tapping out the last sharp pieces of glass. One end of the rope they’d made from sheets and blankets was tied firmly to the leg of the bed and the other end hung down outside the window. They turned briefly to look at the door. “It’s not going to hold long,” said Ida.
“Just go. Before it’s too late,” said the young woman. “I’ll hold the rope steady and then follow.”
Ida climbed out and gripped the rope between her knees.
She began to lower herself down, then remembered she hadn’t even found out the woman’s name. She paused a moment and called up.
“Who are you?”
“Alice,” said the young woman. “I’m Alice Barton.”
30
Avaricia
The real Alice Barton turned away from the window as the door finally burst open.
Oxo exploded into the room and skidded to a halt. He was seeing stars and moons and the walls were spinning. “Ouch!” he groaned.
The other warriors crowded in after him.
“Tuftella!” cried Sal.
The pretty lamb they’d seen on the windowsill was in the middle of the floor, staring up at them.
“We have been called by the Songs of the Fleece,” continued Sal. “We have traveled from far-away England to save you from distress.”
The lamb backed slowly away.
“Crazy Brits,” it bleated. Then it jumped into the young woman’s arms.
“I told you she wasn’t worth it,” sniffed Jaycey, and she flounced to the other side of the room.
The others were a bit surprised at Tuftella’s reaction, but they’d never rescued a maiden in distress before, so weren’t sure what to expect. They gathered around the young woman and tried to coax the lamb to lift its face.
The woman stroked its head gently. “Come on now, Guinevere, don’t be silly. They won’t hurt you.” She stared at the group of sheep who were blinking up at her. “Well,” she murmured. “I didn’t expect knights in shining fleece.”
• • •
Far below, Ida jumped the last few feet to the ground. She hadn’t climbed down a rope since she was at school and had been relieved to find that, like riding a bike, it was a skill you don’t forget. “Good job she had sheets and blankets and not a duvet…” she muttered as she edged her away around the stone base of the tower. “Couldn’t have made much of a rope out of one of them.”
• • •
Inside the office, Mr. Creeply was smiling thinly. The chaotic mess that he’d first walked into had been transformed. Papers were stacked in neat piles, tied with tape. The filing cabinets and cupboards were labeled A–Z and the desk was entirely clear except for one box in the middle. It was marked “Deeds to the Property Known as Barton’s Billabong.”
In front of the desk stood a dripping plumpish woman with a towel wrapped around her shoulders. To one side of the room leaned an equally wet and dripping Shelly, who had dived in and rescued the plumpish woman from the lake. And beside Shelly, stood a very dry-looking Deidre.
Mr. Creeply regarded the expectant, plum-haired lady before him.
“I have to tell you, dear lady,” he told her, “that your late uncles Motte and Bailey left their affairs in a considerable mess. And I don’t mind admitting that, when I set to work, I feared I would never sort out their paperwork in time for your arrival. But I was prepared for battle, and I was armed with my secret weapon. Shall I let you into my little trick of remaining undisturbed, no matter what is going on around me?” His smile got a little fatter. “Earplugs.” He took a pair from his pocket with a flourish and placed them on the desk beside the deed box.
“So.” He smiled again. “Congratulations are in order to both of us.” With another flourish, he spread prints of the unflattering photos across the desk.
The lady in front of him winced but said nothing.
“You have proved yourself a true Down Underer,” continued Mr. Creeply. “And your credentials are impeccable.”
“Oh no they’re not!”
Everyone turned and stared at Ida, who was marching through the doorway. “And I’m here to peck them! That is not Miss Alice Barton. The real Alice Barton’s been locked at the top of the tower for weeks.”
Mr. Creeply’s smile suddenly shrank to nothing as a young blond woman carrying a pet lamb appeared behind Ida.
“That’s right,” said the newcomer. “I’m Alice Barton.”
“Holy-moly…” murmured Shelly.
Otherwise there was complete silence for a moment. Then the plum-colored bangs shook slightly and its owner gave a tinkly laugh.
“Don’t be ridiculous, poppet. I am Alice Barton.”
The blond-haired woman shook her head. “No. I am.” Suddenly firm, she looked straight at Mr. Creeply and the words came tumbling out. “I’m a sheep farmer down in South Australia and when I read in the newspaper that Motte and Bailey had died and left everything to me, I came out here to see the old place. My parents brought me once when I was a little girl. I feel really bad that we lost touch but…” She shrugged. “We did. Anyway, I didn’t want the Billabong. Not for myself. It’s a beautiful place and the sanctuary is great and I wanted it to stay just as it is. I knew if I didn’t claim it, it would go to Frank.” She shrugged again. “So I came up to see him. I phoned to say when I’d be arriving and someone called Nat Golding answered the phone and came to meet me from the plane. He said he was the new hired hand.” She turned to the plum-haired woman. “But he didn’t take me to meet Frank. He brought me straight in here and locked me in the tower.”
Mr. Creeply sat back heavily. His face had drained even of its natural gray color, and his hands were trembling.
“It’s not possible,” he croaked. “Here is the birth certificate Miss Barton sent me.” He took a folder from the desk drawer. “And letters she’s received over the years from the Mr. Bartons…”
“Fakes,” said Ida. She was getting agitated. All this was important but she still didn’t know where Tod or Frank were. “They’ve got to be forgeries and fakes.”
Mr. Creeply raised his eyes from the desk. “So, who is this then?” he asked faintly, staring at the woman with the plum-colored bangs.
“Her name’s Avaricia Golding,” said Deidre, stepping calmly forward. “But don’t feel too bad about it, Mr. Creeply. You’re not the first solicitor she’s fooled.”
“Well, well,” said Avaricia. “Not such a drippy little Deidre Dishcloth after all, are you?”
Deidre ignored her and continued talking to Mr. Creeply. “I’m Deidre Chance, International Fraud Squad. I’ve been on her case for months. She and her brother travel the world cheating heirs out of their inheritance.”
Avaricia smiled smugly. “Well, we are an excellent team. Nat’s very good with keys and locks and things and I have a Grade A in forgery. I’ve got the certificate to prove it.”
Mr. Creeply’s head was reeling. “But why undertake all those dreadful challenges just to get your hands on a wildlife sanctuary in the middle of nowhere?”
Avaricia smiled broadly. “If you don’t give me those deeds, Mr. Creeply, you’re going to find out. More quickly than you might wish.”
Listening just outside the door, Nat took this as his cue. It was time to act. He had been shocked rigid when Ida had run in through the front doorway. He couldn’t imagine how she’d got out of the locked room. And he’d been just as shocked when the real Alice and her pet lamb had come hurrying down the stairs. But it didn’t matter how they’d escaped. He’d watched and waited, cunningly he thought, and now they were all trapped in the office like fish in a net. He stepped into the doorway. “You tell him, sis,” he said. “I’ll be back in five.”
Avaricia turned and nodded at her brother, still smiling.
Nat disappeared again, slamming and locking the office door behind him. Things might not have gone quite to plan, but he felt in control again.
He glanced up and saw the five sheep who’d got in his way earlier finally coming down again.
If going up a circular staircase had been difficult for the warriors, then coming down was all but impossible and had taken them ages. They tumbled down the last few steps and tottered dazedly out of the tower into the sunshine, looking for Tuftella. They staggered back across the rope bridge, too dizzy to worry about trapping their hooves.
Nat watched them go and resisted the temptation to give them a kick. This was no time for petty revenge. He selected the right key and unlocked the dungeon door. He and Avaricia still had a top card up their sleeves. Two, in fact: they had the old man. And the boy. It was time to use them.
The Warrior Sheep Down Under Page 12