When the bride and groom had finished their vows, Dumpty spoke to the crowd, saying, “Ladies and gentlemen, sticks and stones, dishes and spoons, giant wheels of cheese, I present to you your new queen!”
“Long live the queen!” they shouted in return.
“You may kiss the bride,” said Dumpty. It was a directive that Winkie was all too happy to carry out, and Elspeth, Bo-Peep, and the others watched and cheered as he kissed the woman he’d been waiting to meet his entire life. William the Umpteenth had been officially wed to Farrah the First.
“I’m sorry that the honeymoon will have to wait,” said Winkie, gazing deep into Farrah’s eyes, once soulless and plastic. “But do tell me. When the time comes, where would you like to go?”
“The seaside,” Farrah said without hesitation. “I miss the smell of it.”
“The seaside you shall have,” said Winkie. “If we’re able to defeat Krool, I promise you will want for nothing.”
“What a ridiculous thing to say,” said Farrah. “I already want for nothing.”
“I hope our children get your charm,” said Winkie. “And your hair.”
As the sun faded, the party began. Famine or not, there now seemed to be an abundance of food as people broke into their personal hoards in honor of the occasion.
Those who could play instruments did, and those who could not danced around the bonfire until they were no longer able to stand. Little Boy Blue played his horn, Little Miss Muffet kept the rhythm, beating upon her tuffet like a drum, and Carol Sprat belted out vocals with the power one might expect from a woman her size.
Winkie danced with Farrah, Jill with Jack, the Dish with the Spoon, and Dumpty with Bo-Peep, until the mayor’s vertigo got the better of him and he fell over, nearly rolling into the fire. Elspeth sat on the outskirts, upon a large speckled rock, looking out at those who somehow seemed to know the secret of enjoying themselves.
Leaving the party behind, she found Gene propped up against an old oak tree and so deep in thought that he failed to notice the triangular bundle she carried. “I guess we’ll be shipping out soon,” he said.
“Tomorrow at noon,” said Elspeth. “We want to be across Torcano Alley before dark. Then we’ll wait until nightfall before making our way to the trees.”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous,” Gene admitted.
“We’re all nervous,” said Elspeth. “And with good reason. None of us has ever gone to battle before. Speaking of which, I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Sure,” said Gene. “What is it?”
Elspeth unfolded the triangular bolt of cloth, revealing Young Mrs. Hubbard’s completed flag. “I need someone to carry it into battle.”
“And you’re asking me?”
“A flag is nothing without a stick on which to hang it. What do you say? If you carry the flag, I’ll carry you—and together we’ll raise it high upon the East Tower.”
“Providing we make it that far,” said Gene.
“We’ll make it,” said Elspeth. “In case you haven’t heard, it is written.”
Old Mother Hubbard moved to the suburbs
When Krool took over the throne.
On the front of her shirt
She stitched “Krool’s a jerk.”
’Twas the last thing she’d ever sewn.
Chapter 27
With a few minor adjustments and a couple of major ones, the trebuchet seemed to be working much better. However, in order to transport it across Torcano Alley, up the cliff and across the field to the cover of the trees, it would have to be taken apart. Whether it would still work when reassembled in darkness remained to be seen.
In regard to the troops there was no question as to their preparedness. They were sufficiently conditioned, expertly trained, and appropriately angry. They were a team, and every team, Elspeth decided, should have a name. And that’s how her army, two hundred strong, came to be known as the Quick Stick Brigade. She ordered them into marching formation and then turned to Fergus.
“We’ll send for you tomorrow when it’s all over.”
“I must say, not being a part of the attack is a bitter pill to swallow,” said the owl. “But with this useless wing, I’d be nothing but a burden to you.”
“Don’t worry,” said Elspeth. “We’ll make sure you get your revenge.”
“It’s not revenge with which I’m concerned. It’s you. Please, be careful.”
Fergus was not the only one to remain behind. Queen Farrah would not make the trip nor would her official bodyguards.
“Little Robin Redbreast will deliver word of our victory,” said Winkie to his bride. “Only then will it be safe for Rory, Cory, and Maury to escort you to the castle.” He then removed a small slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Farrah.
“What’s this?”
“From Jack and Jill,” said Winkie. “The location of the well. If we’re not victorious, if something bad should happen to me, get away from this place. Promise me.”
Farrah studied the paper for a moment then handed it back to her husband. “If something bad should happen to you, I promise you I will dive into a well, but not this one.”
“You’re as stubborn as you are beautiful,” said Winkie with a smile. “I suppose I had better do my best to emerge from this intact.” He kissed his bride for what each of them hoped would not be the last time, then he joined the marching ranks sitting astride the nape of Jack’s beefy neck.
Their weapons at rest upon their right shoulders, the Quick Stick Brigade followed Elspeth through the forest as she held Gene out at such an angle that the flag could be seen in all its glory. Though talking in ranks was prohibited, the march was by no means a quiet one as trees and bushes they passed along the way gave out shouts of support.
“Go get ’em!”
“Give ’em one for us!”
“Quick Stick Brigade! Hurrah!”
None of them was more enthusiastic than Manuel as Elspeth took the time to thank him once more for apprehending the Crooked Man.
“Glad to do it, señorita,” said Manuel. “Anything to help the cause.” Then he reached up with one branch, snapped off a small twig, and handed it to Elspeth. “If you would do me the honor of planting this in the castle courtyard, it will make me happy to know that I’m with you all in some little way.”
“You have my word,” said Elspeth, carefully pocketing the twig.
Manuel snapped to attention and raised a branch in salute, holding it there until the last member of Elspeth’s army had passed.
When they reached the edge of the forest, there stood the three posted signs, Keep Out, Do Not Enter, and Don’t Even Think About It.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Keep Out demanded. “Can’t you read?”
“Read this,” said Elspeth as she smacked the sign with the heel of her hand, the force knocking it to the dirt.
“You won’t get away with this!” Keep Out threatened as the other two signs snickered behind his back.
Snaking out across Torcano Alley went the Quick Stick Brigade, and soon Elspeth recognized the crevasse into which she and the others had fallen. She was therefore pleased when Jack informed her that torcano season was nearly at an end by now and the odds of encountering one this time of year were unlikely.
Other than having to make a few unscheduled stops so Dumpty could regain his balance and composure by leaning upon his stick, they crossed without incident or being noticed. They continued past Winkie’s former home in the side of the cliff, then lugged the heavy parts of the trebuchet up the switchback until they’d reached the plateau. All in all, it had a been a six-hour march, and the troops were thankful for a chance to sit in the tall grass and rest until dark, when it would be time to move into position for the next day’s assault on the castle, barely visible from this distance.
Once the final leg of their trip began, there would be no talking. This was the last opportunity Elspeth would have to address her army before the attack and, depen
ding how it all went, perhaps the last chance to ever speak to them again. “Listen up, everybody,” she said. At the mere sound of her voice, her soldiers began scrambling to their feet until she said, “At ease, at ease. You’ve all done enough standing for the time being.”
For the last hour she’d been thinking about the message she wanted to convey but hadn’t decided on quite how to say it. “In case I don’t have a chance to tell you later,” she began, “in case something should happen to me, I wanted to be sure you all knew how proud I am of you. As your commanding officer, I would like to thank you for your hard work and dedication. I would also like to take this opportunity to apologize for something.” Her voice raised slightly in pitch as her throat tightened. “You see, I’m afraid that I haven’t been completely honest with you all.”
This statement sent a soft murmur through the crowd. What could it be? What horrible lie had she told them? Would she abandon them as she had once threatened to do?
“Several weeks ago,” Elspeth continued, “I made a speech in which I said I was not your friend. That was as untrue then as it is today. Before I came here, I had no friends. And now I’ve got more than I can count. More than I ever imagined. And certainly more than I deserve.
“Together we’ve come a long way. As a very big man once said to me, a hero’s fate is handed down from sources unknown. And when it is, he accepts his fate and all of the burden and all of the glory that comes with it. We’ve endured the burden. Now let’s taste some of that glory.”
It was the kind of speech that one might expect to result in wild cheering and deafening applause, and it very well may have had that castle not been just a couple of miles away. Instead, it ended in quiet nods of affirmation and handshakes—two hundred of them as Elspeth moved among her troops, thanking them individually for their efforts.
When the sun had set and the white castle now showed only in black silhouette against a purple sky, Elspeth gave the order to advance. In silence the two hundred marched toward the cover of the trees where they would spend their last night as second-class citizens, for by day’s end tomorrow, either they would be free or they would be dead.
The cottages outside the castle gate were mostly dark, though a few gave off a glow from candle or fireplace. To speak poorly of Krool was a most serious offense, so one could never know how the people of Banbury Cross truly felt about him. Outwardly, they sang his praises, though it was equally probable that they loathed him just as much as did Elspeth, Jack and Jill, and the others.
Playing to the side of caution, Elspeth led her troops in a wide berth around the houses so as not to be detected by those within.
When they finally arrived at the grove, she was pleased to find Earl Grey waiting for her. He was happy to report that the job of tunneling into the stables had been completed as of the day before. As discussed, he and his fellow mice would remain hidden until hearing the signal that it was time to spring into action. With a tiny salute, he hurried off to a hole near the castle wall and disappeared.
Putting a trebuchet together in near complete darkness and in total silence could not be a more difficult task. It took three attempts before it was assembled to Winkie’s satisfaction, with no extra parts still lying on the ground.
Elspeth whispered to her troops that once the job was finished they would be wise to try to get some sleep before the attack. Sage advice perhaps, but also, as they discovered, nearly impossible to follow. In the thin night air, even a whisper could find its way to nearby ears. After all, every word that the guards spoke to each other, every petty complaint and obvious joke, was clearly audible to those hiding amid the trees. So then, with talking prohibited and sleep elusive, there was nothing to do but lie there for hours, imagining all that could go wrong.
The Cheese stands alone.
The Cheese stands alone.
High in cholesterol,
The Cheese stands alone.
Chapter 28
It was an hour till dawn when Dumpty gave the Cheese a double tap with the palm of his hand, indicating that it was time for him to leave the cover of the trees and roll toward the castle gate. This time, it never occurred to Dumpty to lick his hand after touching the Cheese. There were other things on his mind far more important than flavor.
Danger may have been his middle name, but that did nothing to quell the trembling as the Cheese rolled out across the open space, between the cottages, until finally he stood alone before the castle, where he could do nothing but wait for the rising sun to reveal his position to the guards on the catwalk. What if something went wrong, he thought. He could easily end up as an hors d’oeuvre at Krool’s victory party.
Then again, if all went according to plan, this could be the stuff of which legends are made. Future generations for centuries to come would speak of him as they do the Trojan horse. “The Trojan Cheese,” he thought to himself. It certainly had a nice ring to it.
At first, the guards couldn’t decide what it was, exactly. “It’s a wagon wheel,” one suggested. “It’s a grinding stone,” said another. It wasn’t until the rays of the rising sun began to heat up the Cheese that the resulting aroma finally solved the issue. It was, without a doubt, a wheel of sharp, aged cheddar.
The next thing to be determined was what should be done about it? It was much too early to awaken the king, even concerning a matter of such importance as fine cheese. Then again, did any of them really want to be responsible for letting such a find slip away?
“I don’t know,” said one of the guards. “We can’t just open the gate without permission.”
“Yes,” said another. “But think what might happen to us if the birds get to it before we do.”
“Birds?” thought the Cheese. That was something he hadn’t considered, but now that the guards mentioned it, he clearly noticed several crows circling overhead, getting lower and lower with each pass.
He contemplated turning and rolling back to the safety of the trees, but that would jeopardize the entire mission, so he remained motionless as the guards continued to debate the issue. Soon the Cheese was relieved to hear the clunking of the oversize chains as slowly the drawbridge started down.
One hundred feet away, Elspeth turned to her troops and gave a thumbs-up, which signaled them to move into attack position. Like sprinters intently listening for the starting gun for the one-hundred-meter dash, they crouched with fighting sticks in hand.
Elspeth watched the gate closely. The timing must be perfect. There would be a short delay between the rush toward the gate and the realization by the guards that the castle was under attack. Those precious few seconds could prove vital to the mission’s success.
Elspeth turned and made eye contact with Winkie to make certain he was ready at the trigger of the trebuchet. He nodded slowly in response, and Elspeth turned her attention back to the drawbridge, now halfway to the ground. As a mechanism, it was painfully slow. The better side of that was that it would be even slower on the way up. If Georgie’s calculations on the velocity of the drawbridge were accurate, there should be just enough time for A Company to scramble through.
While the platform inched closer to the ground, all eyes focused on Elspeth’s left hand as she raised it high above her head. When it dropped, that would be the signal to fire the trebuchet. The order to charge would follow immediately with Little Boy Blue blasting his trumpet.
When the drawbridge was a mere three feet from the ground, Elspeth’s left hand sliced through the air. Winkie pulled the trigger and . . . nothing happened. He pulled it again with the same result. Panic quickly set in as Dumpty shoved Winkie aside and began tugging furiously on the lever with all his might, but with the same awful result. The drawbridge hit the ground with a thud. The misfire of the trebuchet had already cost them precious seconds. A look of terror crossed Elspeth’s face. It was far too late to abandon the mission, but without the trebuchet, the archers would have a clear shot at them.
With no other option, Elspeth yelled, “Char
ge!”
At the sound of the trumpet, the three visually impaired mice jumped out of a small hole in the dirt of the stable floor and began terrorizing the horses, while B Company raced to the west wall scaffolding and A Company charged toward the main gate.
The two guards sent out to retrieve the giant wheel of cheddar were nothing less than shocked to see one hundred stick-wielding warriors charging toward them, years of anger derived of suppression and exploitation spilling forth from their lungs in a wild, almost inhuman cry of war.
Villagers threw aside sashes and peered out their windows at the commotion while others ran out, still in their nightclothes.
“Go!” yelled the Cheese as Elspeth, Georgie, Jack and Jill, and the others stormed past. “Go!”
“Raise the gate!” the guards commanded, sprinting back the way they’d come. “We’re under attack!”
By now B Company was scrambling up the scaffolding while on the catwalk of the east wall a half dozen archers loaded and drew their bows. Each an expert marksman, it was only a question of which of Elspeth’s soldiers would go down first. Or would Elspeth herself be a quick and easy casualty? As the archers took aim, a low whistling noise rose up above the sounds of thundering feet and savage howls.
The boulder from the trebuchet slammed into the top of the wall with enough force that those archers who were not thrown off the catwalk found themselves knocked to the ground, their bows sliding across the stone and over the edge to the courtyard below.
No time to celebrate, Winkie ordered the trebuchet reloaded immediately as Elspeth, flag shimmering in the early morning sun, reached the drawbridge, which had already begun inching slowly back off the ground. And as she and her army poured into the castle courtyard, she realized her mistake.
Though a drawbridge is a painfully slow mechanism, a portcullis can be lowered quite quickly and that’s exactly what was happening. The thick iron gate came sliding down from above. Once it hit the ground, it would leave half of A Company trapped outside the castle walls, with Elspeth and the other half sealed off inside. Divided, they would be slaughtered. A windmill had been put in motion, but it was not in Elspeth’s favor.
Blue in the Face Page 18