“Not a problem,” said Alice, taking the box. “But don’t even think of going yet. I’ve got another job for you.”
“Oh, I couldn’t start tidying up all that paperwork again,” said Mr. Creeply.
Alice smiled. “No, not that.” She slid the box across the table toward Frank. “I want you to transfer the deeds to Barton’s Billabong to Frank Smith.” She grinned at Frank. “I’m afraid you’ll have to spend a bit on repairing the moat, Frank. Sorry about that.”
Frank looked down at the box, then slid it gently back across the table. “Forget the moat,” he said. “There’s something else you should know.” He took from his pocket a map very like the one Avaricia had produced in the office. Only dirtier. “Avaricia Golding was quite right. Her mineralogist was too. There is a big seam of diamonds under the Billabong. A huge one, in fact.”
Even the flies buzzing around the ceiling seemed to go silent.
“Motte and Bailey knew about it years ago,” continued Frank. “That’s why they bought the land. They knew a mine would destroy this whole wild and beautiful place. So they started their sanctuary, and then they built their tower slap bang on top of the diamonds.” He shrugged. “But it would be easy enough to get rid of the tower and get at them.”
He looked at Alice and nudged the deed box closer to her. She rested her hands on it for a moment. Everyone had gone very quiet. Alice’s pale blue eyes stared back at Frank. Then she pushed the box gently toward him.
“But, Frank, I don’t think diamonds suit me.”
• • •
Outside the kitchen, the warriors were munching their way through a great pile of hay Tod had brought them.
Tod and Ida had both wept a few secret tears into Oxo’s and Sal’s and Links’s and Jaycey’s and Wills’s fleeces as they hugged them all. And when they went back to join the tea party in the kitchen, they made sure they sat where they could keep an eye on their little flock through the kitchen window.
“Well, Auntie Rose,” said Tod, “I guess we’ll never know how they got here. But we’re glad they did.” He took another large slice of homemade cake. “And you too, of course.”
“My little Guinevere seems to have taken a liking to your rare breeds,” said Alice. “Especially the Southdown ewe.”
“Ah, Sal’s very motherly,” said Ida. “I expect she’s teaching her a thing or two.”
Ida didn’t know how very right she was.
• • •
“You see, Tuftella, dear, it all began with the Songs of the Fleece. That’s how we knew you were in distress and came all this way to find you.”
Guinevere couldn’t think why they all kept calling her Tuftella. Privately, she still thought they were crazy Brits. But they were nice Brits too, and she did like being close to Sal.
Oxo found a chunk of banana in the hay he was chewing. “Not as good as lotions and potions,” he said. “But not bad.”
None of the warriors had seen what happened to their fairy godtingy after the explosion in the water. What with the bang and the crocodile and rescuing Tuftella and then seeing Tod and then Ida, their minds had been rather full.
“I think,” said Sal suddenly, “we should raise our voices in a chorus of thanks to our fairy godtingy. She has obviously gone because we no longer need her. But without her help, we would not have succeeded. Links…?”
“Erm…?” Links gulped the mouthful of hay he was chewing. “Right…right…”
While Links was rapidly composing the rap Sal had clearly demanded, Wills wondered briefly about how they were to get home again.
• • •
Tod and Ida were wondering that too.
“Not a problem,” said Deidre with a smile. “So long as you don’t mind a long sea voyage. There’s a lady in Britain who’s the rightful owner of a beautiful boat called Destiny. And she wants it back. Our dear Avaricia cheated her out of her inheritance too.” She smiled. “I’m sure Skipper Ed will be happy to take us all.”
“Wouldn’t mind a peek at damp old Britain myself,” said Shelly. “Is the boat big enough to take Norm?”
Then the humans all looked up at the strange sound wafting in through the window.
“How weird…” exclaimed Alice. “My sheep never do that.”
“Oh, ours often do,” said Ida. Then she added with just a touch of boastful pride. “But they are rare breeds.”
Outside, the warriors were joining Links in a rousing chorus of his latest composition.
“We’s the Warrior Sheep and we is the best,
At rescuin’ maidens who is well in distress.
But we had some dramas and we wanna shout,
For our fairy godtingy who helped us out.
An’ direction-wise, we gotta say too,
Good on you guys, to those wild kangaroos.
’cause they put us right on the Jumpup Trail,
And that led us on to the scaly tail…
The scaly tail of a fearsome croc,
But he didn’t stand a chance ’gainst
A rare breeds flock.
So let’s all hear it for the final thunder,
And a high, high hooves to bein’ Down Under.”
“High hooves!” shouted the warriors.
“Crazy Brits…” muttered Tuftella. But she raised her front hoof and clacked it with the rest. “High hooves!”
About the Authors
Christopher Russell was a postman when he had his first radio play broadcast in 1975, having given up a job in the civil service to do shift work and have more daytime hours for writing. Since 1980, he has been a full-time television and radio scriptwriter, and, more recently, a children’s novelist. His wife, Christine, has always been closely involved with his work, storylining and script editing, and has television credits of her own.
The Quest of the Warrior Sheep was the first book they wrote together.
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