The Midnight Folk Page 2

  “All the house is sound asleep,” Nibbins said. “Jane and Ellen are in there in those two rooms. They little know what goes on among us midnight folk. Give us a hand with this ringbolt, will you?”

  In the oak planks of the floor there was a trapdoor, which Kay had never seen before. Together they pulled it up: beneath was a ladder leading down into a passage brightly lit like the other.

  “Close the trap after you,” Nibbins said, as he went down.

  They went along a passage into a little room, all hung with swords and banners.

  “This is the guard-room,” Nibbins said. “Some of the swords are still here. The guards went away a long time ago. Least said, soonest mended; it’s not for me to blame anybody. There are their names cut on the wall.” Kay read some of the names:

  Robin Pointnose.

  Dogg.

  Petter Horse.

  Eduardo da Vinci.

  P. Dogg.

  Tom.

  Ernest.

  Salado da Vinci.

  Jack.

  John.

  Jemima.

  Bruno Bree.

  Peterkin.

  Lenda.

  Maria.

  Snowball.

  James.

  Peter Gillian.

  Susan.

  G.L. Brown Bear.

  Squirrel.

  Wm. Brown.

  Peter.

  Alas, Kay knew those names only too well: they were the names of his beloved companions of old, before there had been any governess or Sir Theopompus. They had been his toys, of bears, dogs, rabbits, cats, horses and boys. They had all been packed away long ago, when the governess came, because, as he had heard her tell Ellen, “they will only remind him of the past.” They were locked up somewhere, he thought; yet he often feared that they had been given away to other children, who would not know them or be kind to them.

  “Why do you call them the guards, Nibs?” he asked.

  “Why, because they were the guards,” Nibbins said. “I told them they ought not to go, but Edward said that he had got a clue and had to follow it up.”

  “What had he got a clue to?” Kay asked.

  “The Harker treasure,” he said. “I begged him to leave half the guards, but he said, ‘No; I’ll only be away a week or two.’ So away they went, with the horse and cart, the big tent that takes to pieces, and all the hammocks and guns. Edward had his sword, the cocked hat, the coat with the piping, and his striped trousers, so you can see that he thought it important. But as to his being away only a week, he has been away a year or more; and not a word has come from any of them.”

  “I’m afraid they are all dead,” Kay said. “I wish they weren’t.”

  “Things have gone to wrack and ruin without them,” Nibbins said. “What with witchcraft and that. Of course I’m only a cat, but I’ve got eyes, and a cat can look at a king. Still, least said, soonest mended. Now, come along, this way, down these steps. Now, do you see these eye-holes? They are cut in the portraits on the walls of one of the rooms. You can look down, if you like.”

  Kay looked down through the eye-holes of Grandmamma Harker’s portrait into the drawing-room, which was shuttered dark, except for some moonlight coming from the upper panes. This moonlight fell upon the table, where the red and white ivory chessmen were playing chess by themselves. They had come out of the box and ranged themselves. The kings called out the moves, but generally they asked the queens first. The pieces and pawns which had been taken stood beside the board, giving cheers for their own sides, and uttering little cries of warning.

  “Well played, Red.”

  “Now, White Knight, why don’t you take him?”

  “Oh, your Majesty, look out for the Bishop.”

  “Oh well played, Your Grace; well played indeed.”

  “That’ll be Mate in three moves, if you do that, Red.”

  “Will it really? Yes, my dear, I suppose it will. I’d better not do it then. What would you suggest?” etc.

  While Kay was watching, Nibbins put a paw on his arm. “Don’t speak,” he said, “Mrs. Pouncer is going to sing. Come along quietly, you’ll enjoy this.”

  He led Kay along a narrow corridor to another passage, where there were more eyelet holes. Kay looked through the eyes of Great-grandmamma Siskin’s portrait into the dining-room; but what did he see?

  There were seven old witches in tall black hats and long scarlet cloaks sitting round the table at a very good supper: the cold goose and chine which had been hot at middle-day dinner, and the plum cake which had been new for tea. They were very piggy in their eating (picking the bones with their fingers, etc.) and they had almost finished the Marsala. The old witch who sat at the head of the table tapped with her crooked-headed stick and removed her tall, pointed hat. She had a hooky nose and chin, and very bright eyes.

  “Dear Pouncer is going to sing to us,” another witch said.

  “Hear, hear,” the other witches said. “Dear Pouncer, sing.”

  “But you must join in the chorus, sisters. Shall it be the old song, Dear Nightshade?”

  “Yes, yes; the old song.”

  Mrs. Pouncer cleared her throat and began:

  “When the midnight strikes in the belfry dark

  And the white goose quakes at the fox’s bark,

  We saddle the horse that is hayless, oatless,

  Hoofless and pranceless, kickless and coatless,

  We canter off for a midnight prowl . . .

  “Chorus, dear sisters . . .

  “Whoo-hoo-hoo, says the hook-eared owl.”

  All the witches put back their heads to sing the chorus:

  “Whoo-hoo-hoo, says the hook-eared owl.”

  It seemed to Kay that they were looking straight at him. Nibbins’s eyes gleamed with joy.

  “I can’t resist this song,” he said, “I never could. It was this song, really, that got me into this way of life.”

  “But I don’t know what it means. What is the horse that is hayless?”

  “Aha,” Nibbins said. “Well, we’ve time while they’re at this song: it has nine times nine verses; but you ought to stay for some more Whoo-hoos. Doesn’t it give you the feel of the moon in the treetops: ‘Whoo-hoo-hoo, says the hook-eared owl?’ Come along quietly.”

  Nibbins led the way up some more stairs, till he came to an open door, through which Kay saw the stars. “Why, this is the roof,” he said. He saw how strange the roof was, close to, like this, with the twisted brick chimneys standing guard, with their cowls still spinning. He seemed very far from the ground.

  “This is what they mean,” Nibbins said. “Just open that middle chimney, will you?”

  “But it is a chimney: it won’t open.”

  “No, it isn’t. There’s a bobbin on it; pull that; it’s their stable.”

  Kay scrambled up to the middle chimney of the three nearest to him. Sure enough, there was a bobbin on it. He pulled it, the latch came up, the chimney opened like a door; there inside was a cupboard in which stood one besom, one stable broom, one straw broom, one broom broom, and three kitchen brooms, each with a red headstall marked with magic.

  “Take the besom and the broom broom,” Nibbins said, “and pitch the others over the gutter.”

  Kay pitched the five over the gutter; they whinnied as they fell onto the garden path, but nobody seemed to notice.

  “Now let us mount and ride,” Nibbins said. “But first, we’ll shut the door.”

  He was going to shut the door into the house, when the noise of the song suddenly became much louder. Somebody at the banquet said “Hush” suddenly; the singing stopped; the witches were holding their door open, listening.

  “They’ve heard us,” Nibbins said. “Mount, Kay, and ride. Mount, catch him by the bridle, say ‘Sessa,’ and point him where you want to go. Watch me.”

  Nibbins mounted the besom, Kay the broom broom. Just as he was mounted, he heard the sharp voice of Mrs. Pouncer calling from the foot of the stairs.

 
“Night-glider, tell . . .

  Are ill things well?”

  Kay saw the besom toss up its head; it began to say:

  “Save, mistress, save

  From white thief and black knave.”

  but before he could finish, both Nibbins and Kay said “Sessa” and pointed their horses towards the wood. Kay heard the witches clattering up the stairs on their high-heeled shoes. Looking back, he saw them all clustered on the roof shaking their fists and sticks, but already they were far away, for the two broom horses were rushing through the air so fast, that soon the house was out of sight. As they went over the elm boughs, they came so close to the top twigs, that some young rooks woke in the rookery and cried “Kaa” at them.

  It was merry to be so high in the air. Kay could see the village, with hardly a light in it, and the flashing of the brook where it went over the fall. Near the ponds, many little lights were twinkling. Kay wondered what they could be. A couple of white owls drifted up alongside Kay like moths; he could see their burning yellow eyes.

  “We’ll race you to the upper wood,” they said.

  “All right,” Kay said. “Come up, horse.” The brooms were much faster than the owls: soon they were well ahead.

  “You keep clear of Wicked Hill,” the owls cried. They said something more, but the brooms were too far in front for the riders to hear.

  “We’ll land here, it you don’t mind,” Nibbins said. “I’d like to speak with a friend, if he’s anywhere about. Point his head down to the quarry there.”

  When they had landed in the quarry, they tied the brooms to two spindle trees. “It must be spindle trees,” Nibbins said. The quarry was bright in the moonlight and much overgrown with hazels and gorse.

  “What is Wicked Hill?” Kay asked, “that we are to keep clear of?”

  “They told us to keep clear of it, did they?” Nibbins said. “That shows that there is something on . . . However, this is where my friend lives, if he’s not on his rounds.” He led the way towards the quarry end, where there was much tumbled stone worn into a track by feet. A warm strong scent was blowing about the place, more like a taste than a smell. The ground was white with little bones. Something that looked like washing hung upon the gorse bushes; it was not washing, though; it was rabbit skins hung up to dry. Someone with a most unpleasant voice was doing something with the rabbit skins, and singing as he worked; he was either folding the dry ones or hanging more fresh. His song was not a nice one.

  “I crept out of covert and what did I see?

  Ow-ow-ow-diddle-ow!

  But seven fat bunnies, each waiting for me.

  With a poacher’s noosey, catch the fat goosey, ho says

  Rollicum Bitem.

  “‘Oh pretty bunnies, let’s come for a stroll.’

  ‘Oh no, no, no; you’re a fox.’

  ‘A fox pretty dears; can’t you see I’m a mole?’

  With a weaselly, stoaty, snap at his throaty, ho says

  Rollicum Bitem.

  “‘Let’s dance, one by one, arm-in-arm, as dear friends.’

  ‘Oh certainly, sir, if you please.’

  So seven fat bunnies had seven sweet ends . . .

  Hay for a hennerel, snug in my dennerel, ho says

  Rollicum Bitem.”

  The song stopped suddenly. Kay heard no sound of footsteps, but suddenly two very bright green eyes were shining at him above some glittering teeth.

  “It’s all right, Bitem old boy,” Nibbins said. “It’s only Nibs. This is my friend, Kay. Mr. Kay, Mr. Lightfoot, Mr. Rollicum Bitem Lightfoot.”

  “Oh, it’s you, Nibs! Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kay. Come in, won’t you? Sorry I didn’t recognise you at once. This way.” He led the way to what looked like the mouth of a cave in the quarry face. “It will be dark for you,” he said to Kay. “You’ll find some glow-worms on the shelf there, if you want a light.”

  Kay took a glow-worm from the shelf; by the light of this he was able to see where he was going. The two others went down the passage in front of him. It was a rough, dark, narrow passage, with many twists in it. Everywhere there was this strong, rich scent, so like a taste. There were many rabbit skins about, as well as feathers.

  “Mr. Bitem deals in game,” Nibbins said. “I have to consult him about some rabbiting.”

  Mr. Bitem led them into his study, which was also his bedroom and larder. “Bachelor’s quarters,” he said. “A bit rough-and-ready; but then I’m only here in the winter, really. Would you care to pick a wing or anything? No? I’ve some nice fowl, cold; and there’s a bit of duck under the floor there. No? Well, what do you want with me, Nibs?”

  “About our rabbiting tomorrow night, Bitem. Of course, you can speak freely before Mr. Kay . . . I rather think my cousin Blackmalkin has betrayed us to the keeper. I happened to see him come from the keeper’s cottage; I was up in a tree among some ivy. He came out, licking his lips, for he’d been having milk. He didn’t see me; he passed just underneath me; but I heard him chuckle to himself and say: ‘Keeper will get the lot of them.’ You see, Kay, my two cousins, Blackmalkin and Greymalkin, and myself, have been in this midnight business together for quite a long time. Well, lately we’ve been helping Bitem in the game industry, on quiet nights, after new moon, and so on; and we had planned a big hunt for tomorrow, out Coneycop Spinney way: a really big hunt; ourselves, Bitem and some of his relatives . . . Now Blackmalkin has not been dependable for a long time. This magic business is very bad for a fellow, and he is in it deeply, with a very bad set, all the Pouncer Seven. You mark my words, he has been put up by the Seven to betray us to the keeper.

  “When he had gone, I crept down from my tree, got into Keeper’s cottage, and upstairs under the bed. Presently Keeper came in with those nasty dogs of his, and put his gun on the rack. ‘I’ve got some news for you, my dear,’ his wife said. ‘Here’s Blackmalkin just come in to say that there’s a big rabbit drive arranged for Friday night in the Spinney; that Bitem lot and his cousins are in it.’

  “‘I’ll rabbit ’em,’ Keeper said. You know his coarse, red way, ‘I’ll rabbit ’em.’

  “‘Yes, my dear,’ his wife said, ‘Blackmalkin said you’d get the lot of them. Of course, after what he’d told me, I gave him some milk and that bit of sardine that there was.’

  “‘Quite right,’ Keeper said. ‘If I get the lot of them, he shall have more than milk and sardine. He shall have Long Tail’s Wing.’

  “‘Oh hush, my dear,’ his wife said; ‘somebody might hear you.’

  “‘Tut! nobody can hear me,’ Keeper said, blowing out his big lips. ‘But I’ll rabbit ’em. Let ’em come on Friday, I’ll ask no better.’ Then he went out and began oiling his gun; I could hear him singing:

  “‘I’ll get him oiled for Friday,

  So it shall be their die-day,

  And Satter-day

  Shall be Batter-day,

  And Sunday hot rabbit-pie day.’

  “I had to wait in the room for hours, because his nasty dogs were in the room below; but at last I could stand it no longer; I made a dart for the chimney, and was over the roof and into the pines before the dogs were upstairs. I heard Keeper ask, ‘What’s the matter with the dogs?’ and his wife said, ‘It sounded like a young jackdaw got down the chimney again.’ ‘I’ll jackdaw them jackdaws one of these days,’ he said, ‘if they keep on jackdawing me.’ ‘That’s that,’ she said. So that was that, and here I am.”

  “Ha,” Bitem said, “so that’s that for tomorrow’s hunt. Now what can we do for Blackmalkin? Of all the traitors I ever did hear of! But we’ll pretend we’re going, up to the last. Keeper and the beaters will all be at Coneycop, waiting for us. And we’ll send Blackmalkin there. But we, ourselves, will go off and draw out Brady Ride way: there’s pretty toothing in the rabbit there, especially in the South Warren. And Keeper and beaters will wait all night for us at Coneycop; and when they learn that we’ve been at Brady, they’ll pretty well have it out of Blackmalkin for misleading them. T
hey’ll toss him in a game bag, and serve him right.”

  “I say, you have got a brain, Bitem,” Nibbins said. “I knew you’d have a plan at once. That’s the advantage of working with you; never at a loss: I never saw such a fellow.”

  “A fellow had need to be never at a loss,” Bitem said. “The huntsmen are bad enough, in their red coats, but at least you do expect a keeper to stand your friend.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind just moving to the door, Kay,” Nibbins said, “Bitem and I could plan out our hunt a bit, using the floor as a map.”

  Kay moved to the door. He watched them as they put rabbit skins and feathers on the ground to mark places in the wood. He listened to them for a few minutes.

  “This hen’s head is the big yew. That rabbit skin is the boggy patch; you know the place. Then here is where we got the partridge chicks. I’ll put this pheasant’s tail to mark the end of the South Warren. Hob Ferret’ll join in here, and Jill will come if we want her. Then you will steal up here . . . and I will steal up there . . . Yes, and then Greymalkin is awfully good at a drop-pounce. Then we’ll all go over the down to North Warren . . .”

  Kay grew weary of all this talk, because he had never been to Brady Ride Wood; he strolled quietly along the passage towards its mouth in the quarry face. He put back the glow-worm on the ledge, and peeped out of the entrance.

  He drew back at once, because there, in the quarry, not far from the cave, was a man at work among the stones. He was kneeling in a patch of shadow, but his face came up into the moonlight from time to time. Kay saw from his velveteen coat that it was the keeper. “What on earth is he doing?” Kay wondered.

  Presently the keeper stood up to stretch his back. He was wearing gloves. He drew from a sack a big iron snap-trap, which he opened and set among the stones in the middle of the path leading to Bitem’s earth. When it was set, he very cleverly and cautiously strewed it over with moss, dead grass, leaves, and earth.