Catweazle Read Free Page B

he had flown indeed I
     
    Hexwood farmhouse was old, square, and rather dilapidated. The Bennets
never had either time or money to restore it and since the death of his wife
the previous year, Mr Bennet had struggled through one crisis after another;
sinovitis had killed off large numbers of turkeys, and the bank was refusing to
lend him any more money. He did his best, but he found it difficult to give
much time to Carrot, preoccupied as he was with the farm.
    ‘I’m going up to the pub for a game of darts,’ he told Carrot later that
evening as the two of them cleared the supper things from the kitchen table.
Carrot was secretly pleased. It meant he would have no difficulty taking the
food to the old tramp in the barn.
    ‘No sawing on the kitchen table, right?’ said his father, putting on his
jacket and preparing to leave. ‘I’d like to come back to a reasonably tidy
place for once.’
    ‘Right, Dad,’ Carrot grinned. He waited until he heard the sound of the
truck going up the lane and then he went through into the scullery and began to
make some sandwiches. He made good chunky ones, with thick slices of cheese,
took some cold turkey from the fridge and some apples from the fruit bowl, and
put the whole lot in a carrier bag. He was just about to leave for the barn
when there was a knock on the door. It was Sam.
    ‘Starts in five minutes,’ said Sam, coming in and shutting the door
behind him.
    ‘What does?’ said Carrot.
    ‘ “They Diced with Death”! Haven’t forgotten have yer?’
    ‘Er ... no. Of course not,’ replied Carrot, putting the bag behind a chair
and taking Sam through the hall to the sitting-room.

    ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ he said, switching on the television.
‘Shan’t be long.’ Carrot ran back to the kitchen, and slipped quietly out of
the scullery door with the bag of food.
    The farmyard was dark and he tiptoed across it so that the turkeys
wouldn’t set up their gobbling and flapping. Creeping into the barn, he called
softly.
    ‘Are you still here?’
    The old man’s voice came out of the darkness, ‘Ay, boy.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Here!’
    Carrot switched on the powerful working light. With a cry of terror,
Catweazle reared up in the barrel, his hands warding off the sudden dazzling
brightness. The barrel crashed over, spilling him on to the floor.
    ‘Blinded! Blinded by witchcraft!’ he moaned as he tried to crawl back
into the barrel on all-fours.
    Carrot switched off the light and groped his way over to Catweazle.
    ‘What on earth’s the matter with you?’ he said, trying to pull the old
man out.
    ‘I see again,’ said Catweazle with relief. ‘Hast thou lifted the curse?’
    ‘No, I’ve turned off the light.’
    Catweazle slowly backed out of the barrel. ‘What magic didst thou use?’
he asked fearfully
    ‘What d’you mean, magic?’ said Carrot, finding his way back to the
switch. ‘It’s electricity,’ and he turned on the light again.
    With another yell, Catweazle fell on his knees, covering his eyes, but
after a moment he slowly took his hands away from his face and screwing up his
eyes, blinked at the light hanging from the roof of the barn. Then, turning to
Carrot, he bowed low in obeisance.
    ‘Master!’ he whispered.
    ‘Eh?’ said Carrot.
    ‘Let me serve thee!’
    ‘What!’
    ‘Teach me thy electrickery - that I may do it.’
    ‘Do what?’ said Carrot.
    ‘Put the sun in a bottle,’ said Catweazle, pointing up at the
light-bulb.
    Carrot helped the old man to his feet and took him over to the switch.
‘Look,’ he said, putting his finger on it. ‘It’s electricity,’ and he switched the
light off and on again a few times while Catweazle stood amazed at the power of
the young magician.

    Back in the farmhouse, Sam was looking for Carrot. Trying to get a
better picture on the television set, he had twiddled the knobs until he had
lost it altogether. When he went into the kitchen he saw the barn light
flashing on and off, on and