CHAPTER 4
THE GREAT CRUMPET KIDNAP
Wesley-boy and his gang of Frightfully Terrible and Thoroughly Horrible Hooligan Boys were out and about in the Castle; they were on the prowl for crumpet of the female persuasion. They dressed themselves accordingly: flared trousers, leather jacket, pink shirt, and pointed-toe shoes; they were simply irresistible or so they liked to believe.
Spike was the biggest and fattest of the gang that is, if you excluded Wesley-boy, who was a real porker; Pike was also rather biggish; and Dougal, it will be recalled, was the smallest and the runt of the bunch though he made up for his shortfall in size with his really bad attitude.
The Hooligan Boys likened themselves to the Three Musketeers, even though there were four of them and they were field mice; but their motto was nonetheless the same: All for one and one for all. They chuckled, chortled, sniggered, and laughed as they ran through the Castle and told each other what they intended to do once they found the chicks. They behaved like typically outrageous, hormone-driven, randy, teenage field mice that were up to no good. But, sadly, the girls were missing from the Castle! The boys hunkered-down next to a flowerpot containing an unhappy-looking plant; they were miserable and at their wits end about what to do next; they heaved a collective sigh.
“It’s a girl!” yelled Dougal all of a sudden; he was beside himself with pent-up excitement and bolted towards a partly-opened door in the skirting board; the other hooligans bolted over and peeked through the door as well.
An animated conversation was going-on between a gorgeous girl and a grey-haired, distinguished-looking field mouse; they looked anxious and frightened. Then, suddenly, as if by instinct, they stopped talking and rounded on the peeping toms.
“Who are you?” the adult demanded in a very gruff, authoritarian voice. “Come before me immediately and explain yourselves!” He stamped his foot for over-the-top emphasis; he had to balance himself on one leg after that.
Wesley-boy and his mates looked ill at ease; they weren’t sure what to do next, fight or flight. They sloped into the room like four naughty boys called before the headmaster of a reform school for recalcitrant field mice. Wesley-boy put up his hand and gaped for attention.
“Well, boy, what is it? Come on, spit it out, lad!” hissed the old man; he was none too friendly. “Who are you and what were you doing skulking about out there?” He looked fiercely at them.
Wesley-boy stepped forward gallantly; he was very conscious that a girl was watching him. “My name’s Wesley-boy,” he proclaimed, like Napoleon before he invaded Russia, and slipped his hand into the front of his coat; he also thrust his jaw forward and pouted his lips defiantly; he really did look like the leader of a gang of vicious field mice; he winked and flashed a smile at the stunned girl; as for the old man, Wesley-boy reckoned he couldn’t run very fast on one leg anyway.
“And these are my men,” he announced proudly. “We’re known far and wide as: The Frightfully Terrible and Thoroughly Horrible Hooligan Boys; and we’re scared of nothing!” He spat and grinned like a simpleton. A smile appeared on the old mouse’s face.
“Oh, I’m sorry to say that I’ve never had the pleasure of hearing about you and your disreputable gang of ruffians; however, from your appearance, you certainly frighten me!” The girl giggled through the palm of her hand. “And what are your names?” he asked casting his critical, grey eyes over the other gang members.
Wesley-boy leapt to the forefront and introduced his tough-guy friends. “This is strangler Spike, pickaxe Pike, and dangerous Dougal; they’re the meanest bunch of villains you’re ever likely to find anywhere!” he said proudly, and thrust out his chest. The old field mouse laughed quietly under his breath.
“Well, I assume you’re guests of the Doctor; our kitchen staff told us you were coming,” he said in a tone somewhere between amusement and relief. “Well I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome you all to the Castle and to Deep Wood. My name is Rode’nt; I’m Chief Mouse of the Royal Order of Field Mice in Deep Wood. And this is Sparkle, my Personal Assistant,” he said with a smile that stretched across his face. Rode’nt waved the bunch of hooligans over to the table and told them about the great girl kidnap.
“All of the girls have been kidnapped by the Black Rat Society!” he said sadly and a tear rolled down his furry cheek. “And I want you brave boys to get them back!” Having said that, he jumped to his feet and chivvied the Hooligan Boys into action.
“Where did the rats come from?” Spike asked.
“The rats came from the netherworld!” said Rode’nt; he was beside himself with anxiety.
“Now listen here, Rodent,” Wesley-boy said, jumping to his feet.
“No. Rode’nt, Rode’nt.” the Chief Mouse cried.
“All right then, Rodent, Rodent; what in the netherworld do you mean by all that netherworld crap? And I’ll have you know that we’re here for rest and lots of procreation!” Spike and Pike batted their eyelids with embarrassment; Dougal laughed so much he fell off his chair.
“That’s right, Wesley-boy!” Dougal shouted as he got up from the floor. “And we’re here to get as much crumpet as we can handle!” He said with a naughty grin; he also threatened to punch Rode’nt’s lights out if he chivvied him one more time!
“Well my dear young field mice, I know just the place where you can find all the crumpet you can handle. Are you interested?”
Well, Rode’nt didn’t have to ask the hopelessly wound-up Casanovas that question twice; they jumped about and whooped madly in anticipation. Rode’nt repeated the bad news; there were no girls, aside from Sparkle, in the Castle. This time the horrible news hit them like an exploding bombshell.
“Did I hear you right?” squealed Spike; he was knocked for six by the news; Spike was also the cleverest of the four hooligans.
“Yes; sadly!” Rode’nt said. “The Black Rats have once again appeared in Deep Wood and they’ve kidnapped all the young girls and taken them to Netherworld!”
Spike rubbed his chin slowly; he spoke in a measured, inquisitorial tone. “When did the black rats first appear in Deep Wood?”
“They first appeared in the time of the elves, about one thousand years ago.”
“Yes. Yes!” Spike cut-in noisily. “I don’t give a damn about what happened yonks ago; I’m only interested in the here and now!” Rode’nt was taken-a-back by his rudeness and disrespect for his elders.
“I’ll ask the question again,” Spike said, with a determined look in his eyes. “When did the black rats first appear in Deep Wood most recently?” Spike wore an expression that suggested Rode’nt was a complete nincompoop.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I misunderstood you,” Rode’nt said. “The fact of the matter is the rats first appeared here recently!”
“Did anything else unusual happen around that time?” Spike asked. Rode’nt thought for a moment before answering.
“Well, besides you arriving here, there was something strange that happened in Deep Wood recently. But nobody seems to know what it was exactly.
“Should’ve been a bleeding politician!” mumbled Pike. Rode’nt took no notice of him. “However, some field mice swear black and blue that whatever it was, it was neither living nor dead, and it frightened them half to death!”
“Was it mineral or vegetable?” Spike asked despairingly. Rode’nt remembered something else.
“Oh yes, and I read an ancient scroll recently; it told of a horrible creature that appears in Deep Wood every thousand years!”
“And I suppose it was times up recently?” Spike laughed; he was a Manchester United soccer umpire. Rode’nt ignored him.
“And it probably came from Netherland for something to do, like put the frighteners up field mice?” Dougal chuckled.
Rode’nt was getting a little testy at the silly questions and accusations being cast at him. “This is very serious!” He snapped crossly. “If you can’t help me, I’ll ask for the Doctor’s help!”
“That won’t be necessary,” said Spike politely. “What do you think it is, and why do you think it’s here?”
Rode’nt calmed down. “I think it’s in Deep Wood to feast on field mice flesh and blood; and the Trolls eat the bones; that’s why we never find mouse bones, or any other bones, in Deep Wood! As to what it is, I think it’s the Lord of Hell! Have you ever heard of him?”
They all shook their head to indicate no. “And do the scrolls mention the rats?” Spike asked.
Rode’nt answered right away. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact, they do make mention of rats; and they appeared at the same time as the Lord of Hell.”
“Very interesting,” said Spike, as if he’d just solved a problem that had baffled field mice and others for one thousand years.
“Does anybody know where the rats live?” asked Pike.
“Why don’t you catch a rat and beat the living daylights out him; then he’ll tell us everything!” Dougal said enthusiastically.
“We haven’t been able to catch a rat yet,” said Rode’nt; there was a touch of hopelessness in his voice.
“Then we’ll set a trap and catch one!” Wesley-boy shouted.
“And we’ll beat the crappers out of the fecking rat!” shouted Dougal eagerly; he definitely wanted to inflict grievous bodily harm on a rat.
The gang members immediately got down to drawing-up a cunning plan to capture a rat. They didn’t see the dark, rat-like shadow flit across the skirting board.
“Sparkle,” Rode’nt called out, but there was no reply. “Sparkle,” he called out once more; and again there was no reply. Rode’nt jumped to his feet and flashed his eyes around the room. Sparkle was missing; she’d been kidnapped!
“It was a fecking rat!” Dougal shouted angrily. “The mongrel took her that way!” He pointed at a set of footprints leading towards the skirting board.
Wesley-boy raced over and removed a painting from the wall and to his and everybody else’s amazement found a secret tunnel; it must have been used very recently because a spider web across the entrance had been torn down.
Dougal sniffed the floor around the entrance and confirmed what everybody already knew: “That’s where the dirty rotten rat took Sparkle!” he yelled and pulled a splinter from his nose.
The four mousketeers looked at one another, unsure of what they should do next. But one thing was in no doubt: They had to do something and soon. Wesley-boy strode to the fore; he’d decided to take charge without telling anyone.
“Well, the first thing we need to do is gather intelligence on the rats!”
“Like what?” asked Spike; he was keen to get started. “Like where do they come from? How many are there? What are their strengths and weaknesses? What type of weapons they have? And anything else that might be useful. Then we’ll draw up our battle plans!”
His fighting men nodded eagerly; so did Rode’nt, but not so eagerly.
“We’ll have to split into two groups,” Wesley-boy continued, like the leader of the pack that he was. “Spike and I will form one group, and Pike and Dougal the other.
“Group 1 will follow the rat tracks back to the rat’s den; and Group 2 will catch a rat; and Dougal has my permission to beat the crappers out of him until he tells us everything that he knows!”
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