Carbonel: The King Of Cats

23

The Full Moon

The next day Rosemary was looking pale.

‘Too much excitement,’ said Mrs Brown. ‘I wonder if perhaps you had better stay at home today, instead of coming with me to Tussocks?’

‘Oh, Mummy, please!’ begged Rosemary. ‘If you have nearly finished the sewing I shall hardly have any more time to play with John, and I have got such heaps to talk to him about. Besides, I think I ought to say “Thank you” to Mrs Pendlebury Parker, don’t you?’

Her mother smiled. ‘Very well, Poppet. But it must be a really early bed for you tonight!’

Although Rosemary felt there was so much she wanted to talk over with John, when she reached Tussocks she found that by common consent they both avoided any reference to Carbonel or Mrs Cantrip, or anything magic at all. They played good, solid games like Cowboys and Indians all morning, and in the afternoon they built a tree house, which was fun, until Mrs Pendlebury Parker decided that it was not safe and made them take it down again.

When Rosemary and her mother reached home in the evening, Mrs Brown said, firmly:

‘Now, we will have supper straight away; scrambled eggs and jam tart, and then you can have your bath and hop into bed. You may take a book with you if you like.’

Rosemary had her bath in the usual bower of other people’s drying stockings, then she chose The Wind in the Willows, kissed her mother good night and got into bed. But she could not read. She sat propped against the pillows with the book open before her, but her mind was not on the adventures of Toad and Mole and Rat. It would keep going over the events of the past three weeks. What fun it had all been. What would become of Mrs Cantrip? How would Carbonel win back his place at the head of his kingdom? She closed her eyes to think the better, but she must have fallen asleep, for when she opened them again it was dusk, and the book had slipped to the floor. Something dark and furry leapt on to her bed, and licked her cheek with a familiar rough tongue. She was wide awake at once.

‘Carbonel! I did so hope you would come! What are you going to do? Is it the Law Giving tonight?’

Carbonel was kneading the blanket with his front paws and purring rhythmically. ‘Oh, wait a minute while I fetch the broom!’ She jumped out of bed and ran to the wardrobe. ‘Now then!’

‘It is, as you say, the Law Giving tonight. Would you like to come?’

‘Oh, may I? How lovely! Where is it? And how? And what about John? He would be terribly disappointed if he missed it!’

‘Patience, Rosemary. As to where, it will be on the roof of the Town Hall, where it has been at every full moon for four hundred years. And how? By Broom. The fact that the moon is full tonight will give it temporary life, and by Broom we will fetch John from Tussocks. But we must wait for the moon to rise. In the meantime you had better be composing instructions, and mind they are accurate,’ he went on in his old manner. ‘You can’t afford to make mistakes when you are flying high.’

Rosemary put on her old red dressing gown and her slippers with the bobbles on them; then she knelt on the chair by the window, with Carbonel on the sill beside her. The sky was darkening, and the vista of roofs stretched dim and shadowy, away into the distance. Down below she could see countless moving shapes.

‘Carbonel, look! Running along the top of the wall… hundreds of cats!’

‘My people!’ he said. ‘This is a night they will never forget. As yet they know nothing of my return. I thought it best to descend on an unsuspecting enemy. Only Malkin, my father’s friend and adviser, has seen me. He is an old, old animal.’

‘But I have never seen so many cats! Look at them! All running along the garden wall!’

There was a steady stream of animals, black, white, grey, and tabby, silently but purposefully trotting along the garden wall in the same direction, continually joined by other cats where other walls intersected.

‘This is one of the main roads from the outlying parts,’ said Carbonel.

The sky behind the roof-tops was becoming lighter.

‘Look!’ said Carbonel. ‘The moon!’

As he spoke, a tiny segment of silver rose from a bank of clouds low on the horizon. Rosemary’s hand lay on the cat’s sleek back, and she felt him stiffen. He was making low, crooning, cat noises in his throat. As the moon rose majestically in sight – a superb moon, round as a pumpkin and golden as honey, filling the roof-top world with light, and deep, mysterious shadow – Carbonel rose to his feet, lifted his head and sniffed the air, and the crooning noise turned to a bubbling wail, which rose and fell, and rose again to a wild, high note which struck the ear like a trumpet call. Then it sank once again to silence. When the moon was sailing high above the cloud rack, he spoke.

‘To Broom, Rosemary!’

And Rosemary strode the quivering Broom with Carbonel balanced on the sadly diminished twigs behind her.

‘Go on, say it!’ he said. She took a deep breath and said:

If you please, my gallant Broom,

Take us straight to John’s bedroom.

And the Broom, which had been giving little hops under her, as though it longed to take the air, rose smoothly and silently, circled once round the room and was away through the window. Rosemary gripped with her knees, and screwed up her eyes and her toes. But the motion was smooth and pleasant, and soon she dared to open her eyes and look around her. They were flying high. They skimmed the weather-cock of All Saints’ Church, where she went on Sundays with her mother, they flew over the shopping centre, now empty and silent, with only here and there a lighted square of window, over the new housing estate and out over the moonlit country beyond. She was so fascinated by the shifting shapes beneath that she forgot to be frightened. The road wandered idly along, like a pale grey ribbon tossed there by some careless giant. Away to the south the river gleamed, a silver streak, and woods and houses, barns and ricks crouched like sleeping animals on the crazy paving that was the fields and meadows. Rosemary was so interested in watching it slip away from beneath her that she was quite surprised when Carbonel said, ‘We’re nearly there. Duck your head when we go in!’

She looked up, and there was Tussocks, apparently rising up to meet them with such speed that Rosemary had a queer feeling in her stomach. How on earth, of all those windows, could the broom be expected to know which was John’s? But it sped on without any hesitation, and as it seemed that they must crash head on into the great castellated wall that rose in front of her, she flung herself flat along the broom and shut her eyes. But it was only by the light touch of a curtain brushing against her cheek that she knew they had passed into the room. There she was, actually on John’s bed, with the broom beneath her. John shot up from the bedclothes, wide awake, with his hair standing up in spikes all over his head.

‘Quick!’ said Rosemary. ‘Mount the broom behind me. We’re going to the Law Giving to see Carbonel take possession of his kingdom!’ To John’s credit, he did not stop to ask questions. He tumbled out of bed, and all he said was:

‘Whacko, budge up!’

Rosemary budged. It was rather a squash, but he bundled up behind her.

‘Make haste!’ said Carbonel. ‘Now, the Town Hall roof, Rosemary.’

After a moment’s thought she said:

On the Town Hall roof put us gently down,

And oblige John, Carbonel, and Rosemary Brown.

She was rather pleased with this, as being both polite and business-like.

‘Duck!’ shouted Carbonel.

And as they ducked the Broom swooshed through the window, and once more they were sailing through the night air back towards the town. They were not flying so high this time. John was bouncing up and down with excitement.

‘Boy, oh boy! This is terrific! There’s the Lodge and the gardener’s cottage! That must be the railway by Spinnaker’s wood!’

A train, like a jewelled snake, was threading its way through the darkness. A bat blundered into them and squeaked something.

‘Don’t mention it!’ said Carbonel. And the bat flew off again. Soon they were over the first huddle of houses, and as they flew above the town the broom rose heavily. It was travelling more slowly now. The extra weight of John was telling on it. It skirted a tower here and a block of flats there, as though it was conserving its energy. As they drew nearer to the Town Hall they could see the stream of cats below them, still silently crowding in the same direction.

‘It’s a funny thing,’ said Rosemary. ‘Sometimes it looks like slates and bricks and roofs and chimneys, and sometimes like hills with grass and flowers and trees. It’s difficult to see with the moon going behind the clouds every now and then.’

‘I noticed that,’ said John. ‘Queer. But how could it be grass and trees, when we know it isn’t?’

‘How do you know it isn’t?’ asked Carbonel.

‘Just look at the Town Hall roof!’ interrupted John. They looked. It was a strange sight. The roof of the building in which Queen Elizabeth I had slept was covered with a thatch, not of straw, but of cats, and still more were pushing their way on from the surrounding buildings. So intent were the animals that they did not see the dark shape above them which was the broom.

‘Where shall we land?’ said Rosemary.

‘What about behind that chimney?’ said John.

The moon had gone behind a cloud again, and in the dim light they could not quite make out if it was a chimney stack with half a dozen different cowls and chimney pots, or a tree stump, with gnarled and twisted branches. But tree or chimney, behind it they could see and not be seen. The Broom alighted gently, and they found they were standing with their bare feet, not on cold slates, but on short, soft grass. Rosemary had lost her slippers some time ago. Before them a grassy slope fell steeply down towards a small flat valley, and both slope and valley were covered with cats.

‘Look, they are all staring up at the clock!’

In the centre of the Town Hall roof was a four-sided clock. At each corner was a pillar which supported a small golden dome. Beneath the dome had once hung a bell which warned the town of fire and disaster and great happenings, both glad and sorry. The bell was now in the Fairfax Museum.

‘I thought it was the clock,’ said Rosemary in a puzzled way, ‘but it can’t be. It is a sort of little temple.’

‘The throne of my fathers!’ said Carbonel with emotion.

‘Then you ought to be sitting there!’ said John. ‘Not that great cat that is there now!’

‘A usurper!’ hissed Carbonel. ‘But he shall not remain there much longer!’

Sitting proudly under the golden dome was a huge ginger cat with a rabble of disreputable animals behind him.

‘I say!’ said John excitedly. ‘I do believe…’

‘Hush, he’s talking!’ said Rosemary.

‘Listen to me!’ said the ginger cat.

There was a sighing murmur from the animals gazing up at him, and the rabble behind him pushed and jostled.

‘Have you all brought your offerings, every cat and kitten among you?’

There was a murmur from the assembled cats.

‘But sir,’ said a voice from the front rank below, ‘it is not possible for all cats to bring an offering. Many are poor and old…’

‘Silence!’ spat the ginger cat, in a voice that made half the listening animals step back. ‘If you are poor, others are not. There are larders and shop counters, are there not? Now, don’t tell me you are going to be so simple as to tell me that you have no money, as though you are merely humans. A pounce, a spring when their backs are turned and the herring, the chicken, or whatever it is is yours!

‘My Court,’ he turned and indicated the grinning animals behind him, ‘my Court and I shall not ask where you bring the offerings from, so long as they are there. But bring them you must!’

‘This is frightful!’ muttered Carbonel. ‘Far worse than I ever dreamed. Here at the Law Giving to incite them to rob and steal!’

‘But look here!’ said John again. ‘I am quite sure it is…’

But the ginger cat was speaking again, and Carbonel said, ‘Hush!’

‘Come forward any animal who has been foolish enough to come without an offering!’ went on the ginger animal in a voice that was soft, but so wicked that it froze the marrow in their bones.

A dozen cats cringed forward. Most of them were very old or very young.

‘So many?’ went on their tormentor, with mock sympathy. ‘What a pity. Well, you know what to expect. Or is this perhaps a gesture of defiance? Is there anyone here foolish enough to dispute my right to be a leader among you?’ He was standing now, looking down on them, a magnificent animal.

There was a sound from the assembled cats, half sigh and half murmur, but not one of them spoke. For a brief second Carbonel waited. Then, mounting one of the gnarled branches of the tree… or was it a chimney cowl?… his challenge rang out over the rooftops.

‘I do!’

There was a pause and a stir while every animal turned to look towards the voice that had hurled defiance. Hundreds of pairs of yellow eyes gazed up at them.

‘And who are you?’ sneered the ginger cat when he had recovered from his surprise.

‘I am Carbonel X, your king by right of birth.’

There was an excited murmur among the assembled animals.

‘Silence, you rabble!’ hissed the ginger cat, and the murmur died.

‘So you are Carbonel X. You lie; seven years ago he disappeared into thin air, and has never been heard of since.’

‘My Lord!’ said the old voice that had spoken up before. ‘My Lord, there is an ancient prophecy among our people:

A kit among the stars shall sit,

Beyond the aid of feline wit.

Empty Royal throne and mat

Till three Queens save a princely cat.

John and Rosemary could see the speaker now, a gaunt old tabby cat.

‘It is Malkin, my father’s faithful adviser and friend,’ whispered Carbonel.

‘Still harping on that foolish nursery rhyme, my good Malkin!’

The ginger cat laughed a horrid, jeering laugh, and the disreputable mob he called his Court nudged one another and joined in.

‘If it is the Prince, my Lord, he can prove it,’ went on Malkin anxiously. ‘He will have the three royal, snow-white hairs in the end of his tail.’

Rosemary forgot that she was supposed to be keeping out of sight. She jumped up from behind the tree… or chimney stack… and, waving the broom to attract attention, she called out:

‘He really has got three white hairs at the end of his tail – I’ve often noticed them!’

‘So, ho! You have brought your young witch with you!’ jeered the ginger cat. ‘Or are you still tied to her apron strings?’

‘I’m not a witch,’ said Rosemary indignantly, ‘and I never wear an apron, except to wash up! He is absolutely free. I bought him with my three Queens, and then I undid the Silent Magic, and set him free for ever!’

‘It is perfectly true – I saw it all happen!’ John shouted, popping out from the other side of the chimney… or tree.

The cats below raised a murmur that the ginger tyrant could not quell this time. Rosemary saw their glowing eyes switch backwards and forwards from them to the ginger cat, as each spoke in turn. She could see the enemy cat was sitting down once more, motionless except for the twitching at the end of his tail. John suddenly whispered urgently to her:

‘I say, where have the Alley Cats gone to? There were dozens of them standing behind the little temple, and now I can only see about half a dozen of them.’ But Carbonel had eyes for no one but the ginger cat, who had risen to his feet. ‘Keep watch behind you,’ he said quietly, then his voice rang out over the roof-tops: ‘Who is for Carbonel the King? For law and order? For peace and plenty?’

Someone shouted ‘Carbonel for ever!’ and the mass of cats heaved uncertainly for a minute, then half of them surged towards Carbonel, some of the others slunk towards the ginger cat, and the remainder hovered uncertainly between. The ginger cat stood motionless, but his flattened ears showed how angry he was. The six remaining Alley Cats closed in behind him.

‘Listen to me!’ he snarled, ‘common, black witch’s cat! I am Leader here by right of conquest. If anyone dares to dispute my leadership, let him fight for it!’ He arched his bristling back and hurled a wailing challenge to the stars. Carbonel yawned deliberately. Then he stepped delicately down, his silky body gleaming in the moonlight. Some of the cats closed in behind him, but without taking his eyes off his enemy he said: ‘Stand back, my people. This is between the two of us alone.’ He moved slowly and deliberately into the little arena at the foot of the slope.