Catweazle by Richard Carpenter Read Free Book Online Page A

’
    ‘Hexwood? Oh yes, partly seventeenth century. Nice old place.’
    ‘Hasn’t got a curse on it, has it?’ asked Carrot.
    Before Stuffy could reply, there was a loud crash from the entrance
hall. Catweazle, having tracked Carrot to the museum, had just come face to
face with the figure of a Norman soldier, complete with helmet and
chain mail. Puzzled by its failure to attack him, he had kicked it hard on the
shins, bringing it toppling to the ground. As Carrot and Stuffy came running
out, Catweazle put one foot on the prone figure.
    ‘Death to the invader!’ he shouted in triumph.
    ‘Good gracious!’ said Stuffy, as the schoolgirls ran up from the other
rooms. ‘What happened? Did you touch the exhibit?’
    ‘I’m sure he didn’t, Mr Gladstone,’ said Carrot, glaring at Catweazle.
    ‘Do you know this ... er ... gentleman?’ asked Stuffy.
    ‘Yes,’ said Carrot. ‘He’s staying at the farm with us, aren’t you, Mr…
er… Brown?’
    ‘Oh, I see,’ said Stuffy uncertainly, looking at the ragged figure.
    Together, Carrot and he managed to lift the Norman soldier back into
position.
    ‘There, that’s better,’ said Stuffy, dusting it down. ‘No damage done.
After all, he was meant to be biffed about a bit, wasn’t he, Mr Brown?’ and he
looked around for Catweazle, who had drifted into the museum.
    ‘He’s gone inside,’ said Carrot.
    ‘Oh, has he? He’s a bit odd, isn’t he? Why does he wear that... thing?’
    ‘I dunno. He’s worn it for years.’
    Inside, Catweazle suddenly began whistling.
    ‘What’s he doing now?’ Stuffy asked nervously as they hurried in.
Watched by the schoolgirls and Miss Arthur, Catweazle was crawling across the
floor between the glass cases.
    ‘What are you up to?’ whispered Carrot, crouching down beside him.
    ‘I have lost him again.’
    ‘You didn’t bring Touchwood, did you?’
    ‘He wanted to come.’
    ‘You’ll get us thrown out! He thinks you’re potty anyway.’
    As Stuffy came up to them, Catweazle crawled away again, calling and
whistling. ‘Come boy - come. Come, my merry boy!’
    Stuffy turned to Carrot. ‘He really is very odd, isn’t he? What’s he
think he’s lost?’
    There was a shriek from Miss Arthur.
    ‘I think he’s found it,’ said Carrot.
    The schoolgirls were staring at Touchwood, who had crawled on to Miss
Arthur’s shoe and was trying hard to make himself comfortable. Regaining an
iron control, Miss Arthur shook the toad off her foot and stalked out angrily,
followed by the giggling girls. Catweazle picked up his familiar and put him
carefully in his pocket.
    ‘Ugh - a toad!’ said Stuffy, drawing back sharply, as Catweazle went
over to the little statue of Cernunnos.
    ‘Cernunnos,’ he said, blowing on his thumb-ring, ‘cast not thine evil
eye on me. Terfita, Estamos, Perfiter!’ ‘Good heavens,’ exclaimed Stuffy. ‘How
does he know it’s Cernunnos?’ he asked.
    ‘Er ... what about the farm?’ said Carrot quickly. ‘You know, Hexwood?’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ said Stuffy, ‘I was forgetting. We’d better try Flint’s Survey
of Westbourne 1720 ,’ and he climbed a tall step-ladder to search
among the shelves of dusty old books.
    ‘Here we are,’ he said, pulling one out. ‘Not much, I’m afraid. “The new
house at Hexwood is of most pleasant aspect. One Rapkyn, ’tis said, bound all
who live there in turmoil, but such matter is for the foolish.” That’s all
there is on Hexwood.’
    ‘ “Bound all who live there in turmoil”,’ repeated Carrot. ‘What does it
mean?’
    ‘Tobias Flint is often very obscure,’ said Stuffy, replacing the book
and coming down the ladder.
    ‘Thou flibbertigibbet,’ cried Catweazle, who had been listening, ‘all is
clear as spring water. This Rapkyn was a sorcerer!’
    ‘Really, Mr Brown,’ said Stuffy, ‘how can you possibly know that?’ But
Catweazle just pushed past him and climbed swiftly up the ladder with Adamcos
held in front of him like a