“He’s a slow-witted one if ever there was one,” Mother Meldrum remarked. “You’re not much, but you’re better than he is. Now what I have to tell you is this. Those children are in deadly peril—now don’t start interrupting me, or I’ll leave you to settle it yourself. You don’t know about King Kul, but I do. If I were to tell you only half the things he’s done it would make each one of those coarse hairs of yours stand up, and as that wouldn’t be a pretty sight I won’t do it. But I’ll tell you he’s the fiercest and cruellest beast that ever brandished a sceptre. Now the only way to save those children from a horrible fate—at the least having their heads cut off as obtrusive foreigners—is for you to kill him. I’m not counting the funny man at all; he’s a goner in any case.”
“But—but surely, Mum,” said Gorbo in great horror, “no man would kill two harmless little things like them! Why, it simply isn’t done!”
The old woman laughed scornfully. “Poor innocent old Foozelum. Why, he does things like that for fun. It’s a saying of his that he loves to see a little head bounce off its stalk. Of course you haven’t heard about the infants’ class at the Sunday School. However, don’t let’s go into disagreeable details; the main thing is that somebody has got to finish him off. I’ve tried to get Golithos to do the job, but he hasn’t any pluck now and I’m tired of arguing with him. Now, will you do it? Remember it’s the only possible way of saving those little ones.”
“Yes, Mum,” replied Gorbo, springing up. “You just show me the way there and I’ll see what I can do with my little bow.”
“You needn’t trouble about your little bow. In the first place you’d never be able to get through the guards so as to have a shot at him. There’s only one way to do it surely, and it’s lucky you’ve got an experienced witch to tell you how.”
“I’ll do it any way you say, Mum; so long as I can do it quick.”
“That’s the sort of man I like,” she said approvingly. “Just wait here a bit.”
She went out, and Gorbo sat in a state of horror and dismay. Here was a terrible result of his fatheadedness! To know that the innocent little ones were in the power of a tyrant who loved to see small heads bounce off—to know that if he had not tempted them to visit the twisted trees they would have been long ago safe in their own home—to realize that his name would be held for ever in execration among the Snergs as the fool who led the two children to captivity and death! No wonder he bowed his head and moaned in anguish and wept.
Mother Meldrum returned with a long thin bundle under her arm. “Now then, waterworks,” she said, in coarse allusion to his tears, “sit up and pay attention for there must be no mistake here.”
“Yes, Mum.” Gorbo sat up and listened eagerly.
“First, you’ll have to get into the King’s palace without being seen. And the only way to do that is to wear a cap of invisibility. Here it is” (producing a seedy looking article). “It is seven hundred years old, which accounts for its being a bit out of fashion, but it works all right. Take it and be careful never to put it on until you actually need it, because it only works once with one person. If you were to put it on now you would be invisible for about ten minutes. Then its power—with you—would be gone for ever. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mum. You mean I must only use it when I get into the palace.”
“You’ve got it. You’re improving a bit. Now the next thing is this.” She produced a long whippy sapling and swished it in the air.
“Yes, Mum. And what do I do with that?”
“This,” she said impressively, “is a sword of sharpness. The instant you smite with it it turns into a sword, and any person you smite will be cut into two halves. It belonged originally to a cousin of Queen Mab; he used it to clear up some family trouble. But remember that when you have smitten it once it becomes a sapling again and its power goes for ever—that is, as far as you are concerned.”
“Yes, Mum. You mean that if I swot the King with it he will be cut into two bits.”
“That’s it. And it will look rather well; sorry I won’t be there to see it. Now when you have done this there will probably be more than a little excitement and it will be advisable for you to get out of the way for a time. You see when the tyrant is dead the people will rise up in their power and celebrate by freeing all the unhappy prisoners and so forth, and that, of course, will save those dear little children. But you had better go for a little run.”
“Yes, Mum. But how do I manage it?”
“These” (producing a very shabby pair of slippers) “are shoes of swiftness. The moment you have done the deed, slip these on and run. But I advise you not to run too much or you may find yourself in Mesopotamia or in the middle of the ocean or somewhere. Just a few brisk steps will be enough, and even then it will take you half the night to walk back, because these, like the cap and sword, only work once. When you get back again you will be hailed as a great and good man and the dear little things will be delivered over to you safe and sound. Also your friend the funny man, if you really need him. So here’s everything, nicely wrapped up. Do exactly as I’ve told you, and remember that if you make a mess of it, the children’s ghosts will haunt you—carrying their little heads under their arms.”
“I’ll start now,” cried Gorbo, taking the bundle containing the wonderful treasures and his bow and other matters and making for the door. “Just tell me the road.”
“Turn to the left when you get out of the wood and go along the green drive for a mile or two. Then you’ll hit the high road which leads straight to the town. So go to it!”
Gorbo thanked her briefly but fervently and darted off down the path. Mother Meldrum watched him disappear in the trees and then went back and sat down and laughed until she shook with horrid merriment.