travelling it was impossible to tell, as the route taken by the accountant would veer from left to right and occasionally turn back upon itself.
Robin considered the accountant. He had been forced to put his trust in him completely and could only hope that he hadn't made a huge mistake, but Henry did indeed seem to be a decent enough sort, for an accountant. And, Robin was forced to admit, he did seem to be fairly certain of his way although occasionally the accountant would stop and pause for a minute or two, as if listening for something. After he had done this three or four times Robin asked him if anything was the matter.
Henry shook his head. 'I'm just keeping an ear out for Glum.'
'And who or what is Glum?'
'An annoying little bugger, that's what,' said Henry over his shoulder as he continued onwards.
'Annoying to an accountant?' Robin muttered to Grub who was walking slightly behind him. 'Now that's something.' He turned back to Henry. 'What's so annoying about this... Glum.'
Henry halted. 'He's mad about riddles. Goes on about them all the time. Always wanting to play riddles. Always. He's, well, obsessed.'
'Yes, I can see how that would be very annoying,' said Robin.
'You can't imagine,' responded the accountant passionately. 'I'd really rather avoid meeting him. I beat him, you see. Unbeaten for seventy-three years, so he claimed. And in the end I'm afraid I sort of played a trick on him?'
'Really?' asked Robin, interested in spite of himself.
Henry sighed at the memory. 'We'd been playing for what must have been a solid twenty-four hours,' he explained. 'He just wouldn't let me go and, well, frankly I'd run out of riddles. I stood up to stretch and put my hands in my pockets. My hands closed on something and I wondered aloud, what's this in my pocket?'
Robin nodded for Henry to go on. Bizarrely this was almost interesting.
'Well,' Henry continued, 'You see, Glum thought that this was my riddle and, quite rightly, protested it wasn't fair. But I couldn't think of anything else and was, by now, thoroughly fed up, so I insisted that this was indeed my riddle. Glum wasn't having any of it, but, when I agreed that he could have three guesses, he set about solving the riddle.'
'So what was the answer?' asked Robin.
'Well,' Henry replied, 'he tried hands - fortunately for me I'd just taken them out - a knife, and, for his final guess, rather strangely he suggested a magical gold ring that rendered the wearer invisible... but of course he was wrong on all three counts.'
'So what was it?' asked Grub.
'Form P91c, Quarterly Employment Record for Returning to Work Household Pets and Sundry Items (Revised), of course.'
106
Minutes later Henry led the Merrie Men into a huge cavern from which several passages radiated like spokes from the hub of a wheel.
'Er, I think that it's this way,' said the accountant, pointing to one passage. For the first time he looked a little perplexed. 'Or perhaps it's that way,' he continued, pointing to different passageway. 'Oh dear, I'm afraid I can't remember. It's been so long since I've been down this way.'
Robin turned to him. 'What do you mean?'
'Well... all the passages look the same. I'm sorry.'
'So we're lost, are we?' Robin asked.
Henry looked abashed. 'Not exactly lost,' he muttered. 'More... sort of... directionally challenged.'
Robin shook his head and, in an effort to hold back his frustration, took a deep breath. 'Henry,' he said, 'why don't you take a moment to think about it?' He threw his pack to the ground, slumped down on top of it and put his head in his hands. Suddenly he felt very tired.
Brother Grub came to sit down beside him. 'Are you alright?'
'Absolutely peachy,' Robin replied in his fake upper class twit voice. 'In fact I'm peachy, appley, orangey, banana-y and bloody well nectariney!'
'Robin?'
'Sorry, Grub, I'm rambling.' Robin sighed. He stood up and turned towards Henry. 'Anything coming back to you?' he asked
Henry shook his head 'I'm sorry, no.'
'Okay,' said Robin. 'But we've got to get out of here and to Old Horse Gorse pretty damned quickly, understand?'
The accountant nodded.
'So we need to narrow the odds,' Robin continued.
'But I'm an accountant, not an actuary,' Henry protested.
'What?'
'It's actuaries who deal with... likelihoods and all that,' Henry explained. 'Accountants just deal with fact.'
'I'm sorry, Henry, I really have absolutely no idea what you're talking about-'
'Of course, I once did a three month secondment in the underwriting department,' Henry mused.
Robin shook his head. 'Henry, shut up and listen to me. There are...' he paused to count, 'eight passageways, right?'
Henry nodded.
'And we emerged from one of them,' Robin continued, 'which therefore leaves seven options.'
'Uh-huh.'
'Okay, I need you to reduce the options even further.'
'Yes. I see.' Henry considered their dilemma for a moment. He'd always considered himself to be something of a problem solver, and if he was just to think logically he was sure a solution would present itself. 'Well... you were talking about probability,' the accountant stated after a while.
'I was?' asked Robin bemusedly.
'Yes. Options. Odds. Those were the terms you used, but what you meant was probability. It's a mathematical term.'
'Fine,' said Robin.
'Fine,' echoed Ron. 'And what exactly is a Papa Billy tea?'
'Probability,' said Henry patiently, 'is the measure of the degree of confidence one may have in the occurrence of an event, usually measured on a scale of zero to one.'
'Really?' said Ron. 'And you drink it?'
Robin cut in. 'Ron, go and... do something else, preferably somewhere else.' He turned back to Henry as Ron trudged away. 'Okay then, what is the probability of us finding the correct passageway?'
'Currently one in seven,' the accountant replied. 'Or nought point one four two eight six. But by using logic we can increase the probability of choosing the correct passageway.'
'If you say so-'
'I do. Let's see, it's highly unlikely that the two passages immediately left and right of the one from which we emerged are likely to be the correct options, as they head at least 135 degrees away from the direction in which we need to travel.'
'But hang on,' said Robin, his head beginning to hurt, 'by using that logic can't we just assume that the passageway immediately opposite from the one we've just come down is the correct one? Because it carries straight on in the direction we are travelling-'
'Maybe,' agreed Henry mildly. 'But let me continue. The two passageways that run perpendicular to our direction-'
'Perpenwhatular?' asked Ron from a distance.
'Dic!' answered Robin.
'Hey!'
Robin sighed. 'Perpendicular, Ron. It means at right angles.' He turned his attention back to Henry. 'Go on,' he said.
The accountant paused for a moment before continuing. 'Those two passage-ways could, theoretically, curl around and head in our general desired direction,' he admitted, 'yet we've been descending steadily all the while. We now need to start heading upwards.'
Robin studied both of the perpendicular passageways and noted that they seemed to continue in a downwards direction.
'Therefore,' Henry said, 'I think the probability is that we can discount them.'
'Make them cheaper?'
'No. Discount as in disregard.'
'Ah! Of course. So where does that leave us?'
'We're down to three options,' Henry replied. 'Or...' he made a quick calculation, 'nought point three seven five.'
'You really like numbers, don't you,' Robin observed.
Henry nodded absentmindedly before returning to the matter at hand. 'So let's consider the remaining three options. We have a choice between straight ahead, left or right.'
'It's going to be straight ahead,' Robin sugge
sted. 'Just like I said,' he added, a touch smugly.
'You may be right,' agreed Henry non-committedly. 'But the straight ahead passageway continues in a downward direction, as does the left-hand passageway. Only the right-hand passageway heads upwards.'
'Which means?' asked Robin, by now a little lost.
'The probability is that the left-hand passageway is not the correct option,' Henry observed. 'Not only does it head 45 degrees to the left of our desired direction, it also heads downwards as opposed to up, therefore leaves a choice between straight ahead, or to the right - a simple 50/50 choice.
Robin nodded. This he could understand. 'So, effectively, it's heads or tails. I think we need to take a vote on this.'
He turned to Ron, Grub and Lott. 'Right, men, we have a problem, and I would like everyone's opinion before we make a decision. The question is this: do we go straight, or not?'
The Merrie Men looked at each other.
'Um-' said Ron.
'Yes?'
'If it means we can stop wearing these bloody tights, I'm all for it.'
'I think you're confusing homosexuality with transvestism,' Brother Grub put in. 'A very common misconception,' he continued.
'Ron, I don't mean that kind of straight,' an exasperated Robin explained.
'Of course he doesn't, you daft oaf,' said Lott, nudging Ron in the ribs. 'He means giving up on this outlaw malarkey and, you know, taking up an honest trade, that sort of thing.'
'No I don't.'
'You don't?'
'No.'
'Oh. What do you mean then?'
Robin sighed. It really shouldn't be this hard, he thought. 'Do we take the passageway straight ahead of us, or the one to the right?'
'Oh,' said Ron and Lott together.
'Well?'
'The right one, of course,' said Ron.
'Why?'
'Because it's the right one, obviously. If it's the right one it can't possibly be the wrong one, can it?'
'I agree,' Lott agreed.
Robin opened his mouth to start to explain the ridiculousness of what Ron had just said, but then decided against it. Instead he resigned himself to being guided by the big man's perverse logic. 'Very well, he said. 'We'll go with the right hand passageway. Henry, lead on.'
107
Incredibly, less than an hour later, the Merrie Men emerged from the roots of the mountains and stood blinking in the sunlight. Robin turned to thank Henry for his help.
'Don't mention it,' replied Henry.
'Just one more thing,' said Robin. 'Just exactly where are we?'
'Sorry?'
'In relation to, say, where we would have been had we continued over the pass,' Robin explained.
'Oh, I see,' said Henry. He pointed towards a small, silver river to the west, a few hundred yards away. 'Do you see that stream,' he asked. 'The pass would have brought you out close to that.'
'Right,' said Robin. 'In that case Old Horse Gorse, according to Annabel, should be about two hours march to the north-east.' He looked up at the sun, which seemed to be perched precariously upon the highest peak of the mountain range and indecisive as to which way it should roll. Its position, whilst it remained static at least, indicated that it was already well after midday.
'We'd better be going,' Robin declared.
Henry nodded. 'Good luck,' he said, and with that, and a quick shake of hands, Robin set off, leading Little Ron, Lott and Brother Grub towards the silver stream.
Henry smiled as he watched the Merrie Men depart, content that he had been able to help. He raised his hand in farewell before turning to head back into the mountains. Then realisation struck. The mines were no longer his home - his prison, rather - and the only reason he was here was to complete the task that Theodore had set him, namely to delay the Merrie Men for as long as possible. Well, he'd failed, obviously, but at the same time he couldn't help feeling a little pleased with himself. Theo would be furious, of course, but then again Theo tended to be furious with Henry most of the time.
For a moment he considered continuing into the deep roots of the mountains and keeping out of his cousin's way until Theo's anger had subsided, but he quickly decided against such a course of action. Best face the music straight away, he thought, and get it over and done with. After all, these days, there
Rude Awakenings Page 28