Chapter 9
The Netherworld Conspiracy
Basil glared defiantly as the centaurs manoeuvred to surround him. He sneered contemptuously; he had the ultimate weapon between his legs. “Come to me, sweet death!” he sang surreally; he had the power to send every centaur in Deep Wood to the great knackery in the sky.
Basil grinned and gently fondled his pride and joy, his extremely powerful Model 1912 Springfield .45 calibre automatic pistol. “Hold it right there; don’t come a trot closer!” He shouted and pulled the pistol from his trousers.
The centaurs exchanged nervous glances; they grinned because they outnumbered him ten to one; they advanced with collective determination.
“Well, if that’s what you want.” said Basil. “Make my day!” He pointed the pistol at the centaur general. This time the centaurs halted and shuffled their feet, uncertain what to do next; they’d already decided Basil was round-the-bend. The centaur general took a cautious step forward. “One trot closer and you’re history!” Basil barked; his index finger stroked the trigger. The centaur halted; Basil looked really serious, and so did his pistol.
The general, a blond-haired, blue-eyed, creamy-skinned Apollo from head to waist and a magnificent Palomino horse from the waist to luxurious golden tail, cupped his hands to his mouth and called over to Basil.
“May I approach you please, Basil?” he said; the tone of his voice was very conciliatory, polite, and smarmy. We need to parley.”
“Well I don’t want to play with you!” Basil shouted back. The centaur’s jawed dropped.
“We need to talk, Basil,” he insisted; he had no intention of taking no for an answer.
“Eh?” retorted Basil, and cupped a hand to his ear. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying - stop mumbling!”
“May I come closer?” asked the centaur; he looked very peeved; his chums sniggered behind him. “Quiet, you bunch of old nags!” he barked at them.
“Who are you calling an old nag?” Basil shouted angrily; he felt insulted at the insinuation. The general ignored the question.
“Basil. It’s just not English to have a discussion by shouting at each other!” Well, Basil was the most English of Englishmen, next to Mathew and the Doctor that is; he wasn’t about to let his side down.
“Alright then; come a little closer,” he shouted and lowered his pistol a smidgen. “But watch your trot, mind; I’ve got an itchy finger!”
“Don’t be afraid, Basil.” The centaur sang reassuringly and trotted forward: he halted opposite Basil and craned his upper body towards him; he refused to speak to anyone, except his wife, on bended knee. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, Basil,” he said with a smile, “but there’s a weird fly sitting on your shoulder.”
“Yes, I know that, thank you all the same. He’s a Goblin-fly, and he’s doing a time-and-motion study on me for the civil service; they must’ve heard of my exceptional time-and-motion talent!” The centaurs laughed so much they nearly cried.
The Goblin-fly rolled-up his sleeves and adjusted his hat; it had fallen across his face in the excitement; he held his little wand firmly; nobody was allowed to laugh at his best mate!
Then the penny dropped! “Hey!” Basil shouted out of the blue; his brain cranked into gear.
”How did you know my name?”
The centaurs roared with laughter; they hadn’t had this much fun since the Great Centaur Paternity Suit it was generally known in legal circles as The Shagger’s Case.
The centaur general fixed Basil with his cold blue eyes; he grinned. If he played his cards right, Basil would be responsible for the death of the King of Kingdom, Prince David, and the Doctor; and anyone else that happened to get in the way. He could hardly contain his excitement. And if he succeeded, he’d go down in centaur history as the greatest centaur hero that ever lived.
“We’ve been watching your progress from the time you arrived in Deep Wood,” he said smiling. “And we went out of our way to protect you and your family from the wizards, wartlocks, goblins, and the Lord of Hell. So you see, my friend, we have your welfare and that of your family foremost in our thoughts.”
The Goblin-fly scribbled furiously into his notebook: Centaurs are after Basil’s balls! He was an astute judge of character.
“I’m sure you did your best,” said Basil casually; he just couldn’t bring himself to say thank you to half a horse.
Surprised by Basil’s lack of thankfulness, the centaur general lectured Basil about the importance of being earnest: “it’s the foundation for a good bilateral relationship!” he kept telling him. “You don’t seem to appreciate how generous we’ve been towards you and your family; and if it hadn’t been for us you’d never have reached the Castle alive!”
“Pull the other one Noddy!” laughed Basil. “It’s got bells on it! Anyway, why should you be so concerned about our well-being, eh?”
The centaur stared intently at Basil; he wasn’t going to be a pushover after all. “I understand your suspicion Basil,” he said and pranced a few steps closer.
“The truth is we desperately need your help.” Basil looked on suspiciously.
“Why do you need my help then, eh?” He bounced back as cocky as a red rooster. Basil didn’t trust the centaur general one little bit.
The centaur was more than a little peeved at Basil’s surly attitude towards him; he pranced about and craned his head towards Basil once more. “Listen to me very carefully Basil, I’ shall say this only once, and your life depends on it!” He went on to present Basil with an account of his dark story. Basil looked dreadfully puzzled. “Are you all right?” asked the centaur. Basil didn’t reply.
The fact is Basil was very confused; the story the centaur told him had no relationship to what the Doctor told him: The Doctor told him the Lord of Hell, the Wartlock and the centaurs were threatening the King’s life; but the centaurs blamed the Lord of Hell, the Wartlock, and the wizards. And the centaurs were in Deep Wood to protect the King. Which version is the correct version? And what about the claim the Doctor’s in league with the wizards?
The Goblin-fly, confused to tears, flew off to check on the status of centaur manure; there were piles of it everywhere.
“And what makes you think the Doctor’s in league with the wizards?”
The centaur snorted angrily. “I always tell the truth Basil! And I personally saw the Doctor and the wizards talking in Deep Wood. And everybody knows the wizards are associated with the Lord of Hell.”
“Eh?” squeaked the Goblin-fly in Basil’s ear. “I didn’t know that?”
“And neither did I!” Basil replied quietly.
The Goblin-fly reached into his trousers and proudly withdrew his stout little wand; he shook it vigorously in front of the disbelieving centaurs and transformed himself into an owl; he screeched loudly and flapped off into the bright blue yonder; he was on a very important mission and he may be gone for some time.
Basil’s mind was in a spin. Both stories sounded true. But only one could be true, which was it?” He was certain of one thing; however, the Doctor would never knowingly get mixed up in a plot to kill the King. But the Doctor lived a sheltered life in Deep Wood; perhaps he was beguiled?
“What’s your role, then?” Basil said coldly. The centaur’s eyes narrowed and he gnashed his teeth like a horse. “We’re looking for the King and Prince David!”
“What was that?” said Basil; he carried a look of disbelief on his face. “You mean you’ve lost them?”
The centaur ignored Basil’s interpretation. “We must find the King, and the Prince, without delay; their life is in mortal danger!” He put on his most sincere face. “And if you don’t help us, you’ll be personally responsible for their death! And what do you think will happen to World Order if the Lord of Hell is made King of Kingdom?”
Basil thought deeply for a few seconds; his mind was made up. “So; how can I assist you gentlemen, err, and horse things?” The centaurs were stunned; Basil was an easier pushover than they’d originally thought possible.
“Thank you,” said the centaur with and extra-wide grin; he cast a relieved glance towards his troop. “I knew we could rely on your good judgment and your honour as an Englishman to do the right thing.” Basil grinned proudly and the corners of his mouth crept towards his ears. And he was definitely a true-blue Englishman in the tradition of his hero, the famous Horatio Hornblower.
“Now this is what you must do, Basil,” said the centaur, pressing home his advantage; he told Basil to keep his ears open for information on the whereabouts of the King and Prince David. “The throne of Kingdom rests on your ears Basil!” he said in a stern voice.
“Oh. Is that all you want?” Basil laughed smugly; he was so incredibly naïve. “Well you should’ve said-so sooner. I know exactly where Prince David is!” The general was staggered by Basil’s momentous disclosure. And poor Horatio turned in his grave and groaned.
“You know where the prince is?” The centaur gasped in disbelief; his companions trotted closer; they mumbled excitedly; Basil wasn’t included in the mumbling. “Where is he, Basil?” The general beamed like the cat that had got all the fishy on his little dishy. All eyes were fixed on Basil; they waited with bated breath.
“He’s in the Castle!” Basil cooed like a stool pigeon.
“He’s in the Castle!” the centaurs shouted as one voice.
“Would you like to know where he is in the Castle?” Basil asked; he grinned like a half-wit. The centaur leader was stunned for the second time in as many minutes. “What did you say, Basil?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “The Royal family is bound to lavish state honours upon you, Basil; you’ve single-handedly saved Kingdom!”
“He’s in the cellar!” Basil said extra loudly; fame, fortune, and a knighthood were just around the corner.
“He’s in the cellar!” cried the centaurs; they reared with delight and pawed at the sky. The general hooted noisily and galloped off towards the Castle; the other centaurs followed him. Basil watched their departure until they disappeared into the darkness of Deep Wood.
“Well, I never,” said Basil, rubbing the dust from his eyes. “The buggers didn’t even have the good manners to say thank you.”
Horatio picked up his coffin and sprinted in the direction of Scotland.
Basil sat down on a moss-covered boulder and contemplated his future; and that of the royal family, Kingdom, and the honours that would soon be heaped upon him for saving Kingdom from the thoroughly evil Lord of Hell. He let out a long deep sigh; he was the main actor in a really spiffy daydream. He was totally unaware that something terrible was approaching him from behind. Then his dream shattered with the force of a ten-ton meteorite crashing into Heathrow Airport – and exactly where he was standing and cheerfully minding his own business; he screamed so shrilly that no sound was heard.
Cold hands suddenly attached themselves to Basil’s neck and shook him mercilessly.
“Got you, you traitor!” roared the disembodied voice behind him. “And stop that wriggling, you wriggler!” Basil thought a nest of starlings had taken-up residence in his head.
“Alright,” he said, but only a croak left his throat. “I told you everything, you bloody nag!”
“So you told them everything, did you, Basil? And what did you tell the nags?”
Basil’s dream of fame and fortune quickly evaporated; his brain couldn’t take so much confusion in one day, and it was painfully obvious that whoever was assaulting him from behind wasn’t a centaur!
“Unhand me, you brute; I’m an Englishman!” Basil shouted fiercely; he displayed the same bravery as a handful of English soldiers when they stood shoulder-to-shoulder against twenty thousand bloodthirsty Zulus armed with razor-sharp spears, knives, swords, modern Martini-Henry rifles which they’d nicked from the English, and assorted fruit; the fearless soldiers were massacred with a stiff upper lip. Such is the stuff of English heroes!
“What’s your relationship with the centaurs?” demanded the voice sternly.
“What bleeding centaurs?”
“Don’t play the fool with us, you nincompoop!” shouted another voice; Basil was shaken even more forcefully than before.
“Oh, you mean those centaurs. I never saw the buggers before in my life. They told me some cock-and-bull story and said they needed my help to save the King and Prince David. And we hadn’t even been formally introduced, would you believe.” Basil knew he was in real trouble this time; he feared for his life. “What do you want?” he demanded; a stream of cold sweat trickled down his spine.
A funny little man dressed in a purple robe and a blue star-spangled conical hat suddenly appeared before him out of thin air. He glared at Basil with a mixture of contempt, anger, and disgust; he hit Basil over the head with his gold-tipped ebony wand. Basil groaned and massaged his head.
“Do you know what this is, Basil?” He asked and pulled the offending wand slowly through his clenched fist. Basil nodded, but his face said he didn’t have a clue.
“Has it got anything to do with short-sighted people?” The wizard adjusted his glasses and gaped.
“How dare you talk to me like that?” He growled and pushed his wand up Basil’s left nostril. “One more outburst and I’ll turn you into a toad and jump on you for exercise. Is that clear?” He bellowed like an awfully angry wizard.
“Now listen-up, Basil,” said a less emotional voice from behind. “We know you know who we are. We also know you’re the Doctor’s son. And we also know Prince David lives in the Castle. We’re the wizards; we know everything!”
“And I know you’re in league with the Lord of Hell!” shouted Basil; he grinned stupidly, like a well-known English prime minister. The wizards laughed; they thought he was playing a game with them. The wizard with the squeaky voice approached him.
“We can play your little game too, Basil.” He said laughing; he plunged his arm into his robe and pulled-out his wand; it reminded Basil of his days standing before the headmaster, arm outstretched and about to get six of the best - he held the record.
The wizard suddenly leapt into the air and shouted “Metamorphosis!” at the top of his voice; a bemused hedgehog that just happened to be passing was instantly transformed into a confused brown bear; it growled threateningly and tried unsuccessfully to scuttle down a hedgehog burrow.
The wizard in the purple robe approached Basil again. “What else did you tell the centaurs?” he demanded. Basil decided to look dumb; it wasn’t particularly difficult for him. “And you were very chummy with the centaurs too. Well, Basil, I must tell you right here and now, and in all honesty, that the centaurs are not what they pretend to be!”
“You mean they’re not half-men-half horses?” The wizards laughed, convinced Basil was of extremely limited intellect; he was going to be a pushover, they thought.
“No, Basil” said the wizard in the scarlet robe. “The centaurs can’t be trusted because they’re in league with the Lord of Hell. And they’re out to kill the King and Prince David; they want to rule Kingdom!”
Basil glared at the wizards; he was convinced they were as mad as they looked. “No, you’ve got it all wrong!” he insisted. “They’re thoroughly good chaps; bit odd in appearance I grant you - too much inbreeding I’d say; but nothing a good old-fashioned castration wouldn’t fix!” The wizards didn’t understand what he was on about. “Besides,” said Basil in a more serious tone, “they told me they were the King’s bodyguard!”
“Did you tell them Prince David was in the Castle?” Basil hesitated; he suspected that was a trick question.
“Yes. I did!”
The wizards went pale at the news. “You idiot, Basil; they lied to you!”
Basil looked like a stunned porker. “But how was I to know they weren’t to be trusted?”
A fourth wizard suddenly materialised before him; he stepped out from a green mist and glided over to his comrades. He was senior to his companions and wore an emerald robe, and a hat adorned with moving silver lightning bolts; he was very angry and repeatedly cast disparaging glances in Basil’s direction.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Basil chuckled quietly to himself, and took the opportunity to massage his sore neck.
A wand magically appeared above the wizard in the scarlet robe; he caught it nimbly and pointed it at Basil. A diabolical sneer cut across his hard face. Transportohumani! He yelled at the top of his voice.
Basil, trailing a cloud of brilliant blue sparkles, rocketed into the air, made a sharp U-turn just below the clouds and dived back to earth like a Stuka dive bomber; he landed in a dirty, slimy, moat; the local toads objected loudly at his uninvited intrusion upon their privacy.
“He’s probably having his monthly bath?” croaked an exceedingly knowledgeable, Oxford-educated, warty toad; his intellectual colleagues cast their fault-finding eyes over Basil and bobbed their head in agreement.
***
“I was going down for the third time!” Basil cried. “And my life flashed before me; and something grabbed me by the ears and dragged me out!” Caroline and Violet giggled quietly.
“And guess what pulled me from of the moat?” He didn’t wait for Caroline or Violet to offer a speculation. “It was a bunch of smelly chimpanzees!” Basil was suffering from cerebral hypoxia and thought he was at home, in his nice warm bed, and being fussed over by Caroline and Violet; Basil was dreadfully wrong.
“Who are you calling a chimpanzee?” said a rough voice from out of nowhere and a hairy hand slapped him a stinging blow across the ears. Basil didn’t know that calling a Wartlock a chimpanzee was the nastiest insult any self-respecting wartlock could endure.
“Eh?” shouted Basil trying to shake away some of the mist clouding his overwrought brain. “I mean, when I finally came to my senses a troop of monkeys was hanging me out to dry; and they hooted loudly at me too – the buggers!”
“Chimpanzees and monkeys in the same breath!” growled the same voice. “Well, Basil, dear boy, let me tell you some home truths. Monkeys have tails and apes do not! And, like you, we’re related to the apes: we are Homo sapiens wartlockensis - we belong to the same species as you do!” Basil was still suffering from shock as well as cerebral hypoxia; he didn’t hear or, at the very least, failed to appreciate the significance of what the Wartlock had just said.
“And a big chimpanzee dressed in a Nazi uniform biffed me so hard he cracked at least three of my ribs. And I coughed up two frogs and assorted tadpoles and newts!” He bleated pitifully. Basil’s near-death experience must have been closer than anyone had reckoned. Then the real world dawned on him with crystal clarity; he wasn’t at home, and Caroline and Violet were strangely very hairy.
Basil’s jaw worked unintelligibly, and he burped up another frog and three tadpoles. He was sitting on the damp, cold ground next to the moat and beyond that he saw the towering walls of the Castle; he grinned at the ugly faces staring down at him; he didn’t know what else to do.
“Who are you?” Basil asked weakly; this was just too much for his brain to handle so soon after his mental sparring with the centaurs and the wizards.
“Let me introduce myself,” said the silver-haired Wartlock; he kicked Basil up the arse by way of introduction and laughed. Basil’s face turned cherry-red and he wheezed an awful lot.
“My name’s Captain Simian,” he said, inflating his chest importantly. “I’m leader of the Wartlock Expeditionary Force to Deep Wood. And if you ever insult me or any of my men by comparing us to a chimpanzee again you’ll be put to death immediately! Do I make myself understood?” He screeched so loudly his audience of frogs and toads legged-it into the moat.
“That’s all I need,” said Basil supporting his aching head in his hands. How was he going to get out of this one, play simple again? No; the wartlocks were already convinced of that fact he decided. Basil sighed. He’d just have to insist he knew nothing; at least until he got his pistol out from his underpants; then he’d give those missing links a bit more than a piece of his mind - that cheered him up a little.
“Right then!” he said, pulling himself to his feet. “What do you Wartlock fellows want to do with me? And before you think of starting any strong-arm caper again, I’ll have you know—”
“Would you kindly shut your mouth for a moment, Basil,” interrupted the captain amid a cacophony of laughter from his subordinates.
“Eh? How did you know my name then?”
The wartlocks rolled about laughing. “Slow bugger!” hissed a guttural voice to his left.
“And I suppose you’re the King’s bodyguard too!” Basil jeered and glared black daggers at the bugger that had called him bugger. The Wartlock leader narrowed his eyes and took a step towards Basil; they stood nose to nose: the primitive flat Wartlock nose against Basil’s modern, pointed, English nose.
“You’ll do well to keep a civil tongue in your head, Basil!” growled captain Simian. “Or so help me you’ll lose it!” Basil cradled his head in his hands again; things were going from bad to worse.
“I must’ve run-over a witch or a black cat in Deep Wood,” he cried gloomily.
“What did you say, Basil?” asked the Wartlock sergeant; he craned his neck towards Basil.
“Oh, bugger all!” said Basil; he looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“What did he say, sergeant?” asked the captain.
“He said bugger all, captain!” The captain looked a little confused. “Oh, I could have sworn I saw his lips move!” Captain Simian returned his attention to Basil.
“You must tell us everything you know about Prince David’s whereabouts,” pleaded the captain; he looked so sincere that Basil was nearly beguiled. “Cast your doubts aside, my dear friend; Prince David desperately needs our help, his life depends upon it!”
“Wonder where I’ve heard that before,” said Basil.
The Wartlock captain fixed Basil with his cold brown eyes. “Now look here, Basil,” he said most sternly. “I don’t know what the centaurs or the wizards told you, but they all lied to you, we’d never lie to you!”
“Oh, so you know about the centaurs and the wizards, then? And you also know they lied to me without knowing what they said?” Basil was getting into the swing of the cross-examination.
The captain ignored Basil’s remarks and appealed directly to his loyalty to the royal family and England.
“You must help us to save Prince David, Kingdom, the royal family, and England – their future rests in your hands, Basil!”
”Et tu brute,” Basil said quietly; then he remembered something very important.
“Hang on! You didn’t tell me how you knew my name!” The warlocks rolled about laughing once more.
“You told us yourself, Basil; when you were suffering from your near drowning experience.” Basil didn’t know what to believe; but the glint in the wartlock’s eye looked very suspicious. The captain quickly resumed his questioning:
“Do you know where Prince David is at this moment?” Basil sighed; he’d heard it all before and blabbed it all before; but not to the fecking wartlocks! He was determined not to tell them anything - even on pain of death! He quickly reconsidered the last bit as being a little over-the-top.
“We’re not the only ones searching for Prince David, you know,” said the captain in a serious voice. “In addition to the centaurs and the wizards, the Lord of Hell is also looking for him! Do you know why, Basil?”
“To kill him, and the King, and seize the throne of Kingdom!”
“To kill him, and the King, and seize the throne of Kingdom!” Basil looked stunned. “Do you know where the King and Prince David are?”
“I don’t know where they bleeding-well are.” Basil snapped heatedly. “And the centaurs tricked me into telling them where Prince David was … oops! Anyway, the wizards knew everything and they tried to drown me too!”
“So you told the centaurs where the prince was hiding?” said the captain; he shook his head reproachfully. “You should’ve kept your big mouth shut, Basil; as tight as a fish’s arse!” He looked at Basil as would a very let down Wartlock. “You alone, Basil, have achieved something that world wars have failed to pull off. You alone, Basil, have put the lives of the King and Prince in mortal danger; and the future of Kingdom. And what lies did the centaurs and wizards tell you about us?”
“Err, nothing. They didn’t mention you at all!” Basil lied like a certain English politician. The Wartlock chuckled; lying bastard he said under his breath.
“Well Basil, you know from personal experience that we value life very highly; I risked my life to save yours when I pulled you from the moat you know – and I can’t swim!” Basil deliberated for a millisecond; he decided the Wartlock had made a very good point; it was therefore patently obvious to him that the Wartlock also valued the life of the King and the Prince; perhaps he was a bit hasty in his negative judgment of their intentions. He decided to tell the Wartlock everything.
“The wizards said you weren’t to be trusted, and that you’re allied with the centaurs and the Lord of Hell.”
“Yes, they would say that. As long as you know where the prince is and that he’s safe, then the throne’s safe too; that’s all we want to know. But one thing worries me, however,” he locked eyes with Basil. “The wizards and the centaurs know where Prince David is hiding; and you surely can’t be in any doubt about our fear for the prince’s safety. After all, we wouldn’t have gone to all the effort and trouble of coming to Deep Wood to find him if we didn’t have his best interests at heart, now would we?”
His challenges were too convincing for Basil to deny. And the Wartlock did save his life, didn’t they? The Wartlock could see by the change in Basil’s expression that he was on a winner here; he continued the thread of his argument without further delay: “We could simply have stayed in Kingdom and waited for the Prince to return - unless we were so worried for his safety that we up and travelled all the way to Deep Wood at great expense to ourselves to find and protect him!” He studied Basil for a few minutes trying to gauge his reaction. Then he smiled beguilingly. “You must tell us where the prince is, Basil, if we’re to protect him; or he will be destroyed because of your stupidity!”
Well, that was enough proof for Basil. Him, stupid, never; he was a veterinary surgeon! “Anyway” he said. “I didn’t tell them everything you know; I didn’t tell them about the tunnel between the Castle and Deep Wood. And I didn’t tell them I’d met Prince Dragon in Deep Wood either!”
The reaction from the captain was nowhere near what Basil had expected. His face sagged like a limp jelly; he clasped his hands to his face and let out a hair-raising shriek; cold sweat dripped onto his uniform. The Warlock was obviously scared shitless about something.
“What was Prince Dragon doing when you first saw him?” he demanded in a very nervous voice.
Basil went into great detail surrounding the circumstances of their meeting, what Prince Dragon had told him, and the information that he’d shared with him. He also confirmed Dragon hadn’t been told of the prince’s whereabouts. So only the wizards, the centaurs, and now the Wartlock knew of his location and the existence of the tunnel. Basil felt a little more at ease now that he’d told the Wartlock everything he knew about the prince’s location; he smiled contentedly.
The wartlocks didn’t hang about for some reason; they bade Basil a nippy goodbye and vanished into the darkness of Deep Wood as fast as their bandy legs would carry them.
***
“How did you manage to fall into the moat, Basil?” Caroline asked; she vigorously towelled his head. “You’re worse than a teenager. And I spend more time running after you than I do the children! I despair with you sometimes, Basil. What were you doing anyway?”
“It wasn’t my fault, dear. It was the wizards!”
“What wizards?”
“The four buggers in Deep Wood; they called themselves Howler, Screamer, Woofer, and the Dribbler.” Basil gazed up at his wife with big cow eyes for sympathy; he didn’t get any.
“They actually threw you into the moat?” asked Caroline with sceptical eyes.
“Well, yes, they did as it happens; why would I tell you a cock-and-bull story like that if it wasn’t true?” he replied testily.
“All right then, Basil. Tell me the whole story; at least you can’t get into any more mischief where I can see you.” Basil was really miffed at being treated like a juvenile delinquent. Violet padded into the room armed with a pot of steaming tea.
“We don’t want you to catch cold Basil,” she said fussily.
“All right, that’s enough!” he snapped loudly, and nearly upset the tea pot. “And stop fussing over me!” Basil’s ears shone bright red and a nerve twitched on his forehead.
“If you must know,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone, “it all began this morning, shortly after Zoë and Mathew went off with the Doctor. I decided to gather some wild fruit down by the babbling brook; but when I got there the cupboard was bare - there wasn’t so much as a blackberry in sight! So I kept walking; I thought I must’ve been given the wrong directions or something. Anyway, I eventually stumbled across a stream I’d never seen before; funny thing, though,” he said and screwed-up his face towards Caroline, “the water was scalding hot!” Violet offered him a scone with a lashing of jam on top of it to calm his excitement. Caroline looked-on amused.
“I followed the stream right up to where it disappeared into a cave,” he said excitedly. “It was then I spied the midget!” He cackled like an old chook. Violet and Caroline burst into laugher.
“How do you know that he was a midget?” Caroline asked.
“Oh, that was dead easy,” he replied and grinned from ear to ear. “I sat on the little bugger!” The two women doubled-over laughing.
“What was that Basil; did you say you sat on him?” asked Caroline in an incredulous voice; she vainly tried to look serious.
“And why did you do that, Basil?” asked Violet nonchalantly.
“Well one thing was for sure,” snapped Basil testily, “I didn’t do it on purpose if that’s what you meant!” He pursed his lips defiantly then continued:
“Anyway, the bugger had the cheek to push me off! And he demanded I tell him my name, rank and serial number; and he also wanted to know what I was doing in Deep Wood. I mean how uncouth can you be to demand information like that from a complete stranger? What’s the world coming to? And how do you think he knew I was there?” he asked and raised his eyebrows until they knitted above the bridge of his nose.
“Because you sat on him?” suggested Caroline out of hand. Basil ignored her.
“Well, this’ll blow your socks off,” he said looking amazed. “He had an enormous eye in the back of his head!”
“What did he have in the back of his head?” asked Caroline with a grin.
“Yes, you heard me right the first time; the midget had an eye in the back of his noggin, like a Cyclops only the eye was in the back of his head!”
“What happened, then?” asked Violet; she didn’t appear too amazed by Basil’s limp story thus far.
“Well, I threw myself down beside him and started a courteous conversation. I asked him why he was spying on the wizards; and the unusual state of the weather in Deep Wood for this time of year. But he was having none of it; he even had the temerity to ask me to shut my mouth would you believe!”
“Eventually he told me his name was Dragon. He also told me he was watching the wizards because he suspected them of being involved in the disappearance of his nephew, Prince David. Apparently all previous efforts to find the prince had failed. The King even sent his humpty dumpy army to Deep Wood to look for him; they found neither hide nor hair of the prince.
Anyway, the wizard’s dancing became more and more frenzied; and they kicked their legs so high I could see everything – it was a shocking experience!
Prince Dragon told me the names of the four wizards; I didn’t tell him I’d met them before.” Caroline and Violet laughed at Basil’s imaginative story.
“Can’t you take this seriously?” Basil complained. “I mean, I could have been killed or even worse!”
“You mean you could have been killed twice?” asked Caroline.
“You know quite well that’s not what I meant,” Basil snapped back tersely; they’d already threatened to change me into a toad and jump on me for exercise. What would you have done then?”
“Taken you to a vet I suppose,” laughed Caroline. “Can you suggest a good toad vet?”
Well, it was becoming crystal clear to Basil his story was beginning to lack a little credibility. “I know my story sounds as if I’d just made it up, but I promise you that everything I said thus far has been the truth, the whole truth, and anything but the truth so help me God! Basil pursed his lips defiantly; nobody seemed to have picked-up on his Freudian slip.
The women laughed. “What happened to Prince Dragon?”
“I’ll only tell you if you promise to believe me!” Basil insisted. The women smirked and nodded. Basil continued:
“Well, there was a sudden rustle in the bushes!”
“Ooh. Basil used to rustle a lot in the bushes in his younger days!” said Caroline leaning towards Violet; they giggled like a couple of naughty school girls for some obscure reason.
“If you don’t mind!” said Basil in a reprimanding tone of voice, “I’d like to continue with my story. “The next thing I knew, Prince Dragon had raised his nose and sniffed the air like Odin does when he’s checking to see if dinner’s ready. And what do you think he did next?” They shook their heads. “Well, he shrieked like a madman who’d just come face-to-face with the prime minister; and you’re not going to believe this! I was just about to tell him it was only a centaur when he leapt to his feet, pulled out his little wand and shook it for all his worth and vanished in a puff of smoke!”
“I hope it didn’t catch fire with all that shaking,” said Violet casually, and took another sip of tea. Basil gaped; he wasn’t amused but Caroline was.
As the day wore on, Basil told Caroline and Violet all about his encounter with the centaurs, his less-than-friendly meeting with the wizards, and his being beaten up by the wartlocks.
Violet and Caroline were reduced to fits of laughter as poor Basil, miffed to the point of crocodile tears, recounted his distressing adventure.
