Arabel and Mortimer

by Joan Aiken

  "Kaaark," said Mortimer, twisting his head round disappointedly.

  But when they reached the edge of the enormous hole, even Mortimer was so interested that, for a time, he almost forgot about the LawnSabre. The hole was so deep that a guardrail had been rigged up round the edge and a series of ladders led down to the bottom. Standing by the rail and looking over, Arabel and Mortimer could just see down as far as the bottom, where about a dozen people were craning and pushing to look at something in the middle.

  "What have they found down there?" Arabel asked a boy with a skateboard, who was standing beside her.

  "Somebody said it was a round table," said the boy.

  "A table? That doesn't sound very valuable," said Arabel, disappointed. "I thought they'd found something like a king's crown. Why should a table be valuable? Why should a table be down at the bottom of a hole?"

  "I dunno," said the boy. "Maybe it's a vegy-table! Ha, ha, ha!" And he stepped onto his skateboard, pushed off, and glided away down the path. Arabel gazed after him with envy. But Mortimer, staring down into the great crater, was struggling and straining in Arabel's arms. He wanted to go down the ladder and see for himself what was at the bottom.

  "No, Mortimer," said Arabel. "You can't go down there. How would you get back? You'd have to fly, and you know you don't like that. Come and see what Sandy's doing. He's got his fiery torches again."

  She carried the unwilling Mortimer back to the circle of watchers round Sandy Smith, who was now swallowing great gulps of fire from his blazing torches and then spitting them out again.

  "Coo, he is clever," said Arabel. "How would you like to do that, Mortimer?"

  "Nevermore," muttered Mortimer.

  He would swallow almost anything so long as it was hard; but fire always made him nervous, and he edged backward when Sandy blew out a mouthful of flame.

  Then Sandy stuck his fiery torches into the loose earth of a flower bed and pulled a wheel out of his bag. The wheel was a bit bigger than an LP disk, and it had a pedal on each side. Sandy put his feet on the pedals, and suddenly—whizz—he began to cycle round and round inside the ring of people who were watching. He made it look very easy by sticking his hands into his pockets and playing a tune on his nose organ as he pedaled along. Then he began to go faster and faster, leaning inward on the bends like a tree blown by the wind. Everybody clapped like mad, and Mortimer jumped up and down. He had wriggled out of Arabel's arms and was standing on the ground beside her.

  Then Sandy noticed Arabel standing among the watchers.

  "Hi, Arabel," he said, "like a ride on my shoulders?"

  "Could I?" said Arabel.

  "Why not?" said Sandy. "Come on!" He stepped off his wheel—which at once fell over on its side—picked up Arabel, and perched her on his shoulders, with a foot dangling forward on each side of his face.

  "Hold on tight!" he said.

  "Kaaark!" shouted Mortimer, who did not want to be left behind.

  But Sandy, who had not noticed Mortimer, got back onto his wheel and began riding round and round in a circle again. Arabel felt as if she were flying; the wind rushed past her face, and when he went round a tight curve Sandy leaned over so far that there was nothing between her and the ground.

  "Oh, it's lovely!" cried Arabel. "Mortimer! Look at me, Mortimer!"

  But Mortimer was not looking at Arabel. Very annoyed at being left behind, he had turned his black head right round on its neck and was looking for Mr. Walpole and the LawnSabre. Then he started walking purposefully away from the group of people who were watching Sandy.

  "Sandy," said Arabel as he whizzed round and round, "why are they getting someone from the British Museum to look at the thing they found in that hole if it's only a table?"

  Arabel thought Sandy must know all about it, as he had been in the garden since breakfast time, and sure enough he did.

  "They found a great big round, flat stone thing," he said, pedaling away. "It's just about as big as this circle I'm making."

  He did another whirl round, and Arabel, who was getting a little giddy, clutched hold of his hair with both hands. Luckily there was plenty of hair to hold on to, bright ginger in color.

  "Why should a man from the British Museum come to look at a big round stone thing?"

  "Because they think it's King Arthur's Round Table, that's why!"

  Sandy shot off down a path, did a circle round two trees, and came back the same way that he had gone.

  "What makes them think that?" asked Arabel, holding on even tighter, and ducking her head, as they passed under some trees with low branches.

  "Because there's a long sword stuck right in the middle of the stone table. And it has a red sparkling ruby in the handle. And they think it might be King Arthur's sword Excalibur!"

  Arabel had never heard of King Arthur's sword Excalibur, and she was beginning to feel rather queer. The tomato soup, the battered fish fingers, and the banana that she had eaten for her lunch had all been whizzed round inside her until her stomach felt like a spin dryer full of mixed laundry.

  "I think I'd better get down now, Sandy," she said politely. "Thank you very much for the ride, but I'd better see what Mortimer is doing."

  "Okay," said Sandy, and he glided to a stop beside a tree, holding his arm round the trunk as he came up to it. Then he lifted Arabel off his shoulders and put her down on the ground. Arabel found that her legs would not hold her up, and she sat down, quite suddenly, on the grass. Her head still seemed to be whirling round even though she was sitting still.

  "I do feel funny," she said.

  "You'll be better in a minute," said Sandy, who was used to the feeling.

  Arabel tried to look around her for Mortimer, but all the trees and people and grass and daffodils seemed to be swinging round in a circle, and she had to shut her eyes.

  "Can you see Mortimer anywhere, Sandy?" she asked, with her eyes shut.

  But Sandy had got back onto his wheel and pedaled away; he was juggling with his three balls as he rode.

  Meanwhile, where was Mortimer?

  He was still walking slowly and purposefully toward the LawnSabre, which Mr. Walpole had left parked just beside the little hut in the middle of the garden where he kept his tools.

  In order to reach the LawnSabre, Mortimer had to cross the paved area where the skaters were gliding about on their skateboards.

  "Watch out!" yelled a boy, whizzing past Mortimer on one wheel. Mortimer jumped backward, and two other skaters nearly collided as they tried to avoid him. Three more skaters shot off the pavement and ended up in a bed of daffodils.

  "You mind out for my daffs, or I'll report ye to the Borough!" bawled old Mr. Walpole angrily. He had been walking toward the toolshed to put away the LawnSabre, but now he stepped into the flower bed and began indignantly straightening up the bent daffodils and tying them to sticks, shaking his fist at the skaters.

  Mortimer, taking no notice of what was happening behind him, stepped off the pavement and walked on to where the LawnSabre was standing.

  The LawnSabre was bright red. It was mounted on four smallish wheels, and it had a pair of long handles, like a wheelbarrow, and a switch for the fuel, and a lever to raise or lower the blades (so as to cut the grass long or short). At present, the lever was lowered so that the blades would cut the grass as short as possible.

  The motor had to be started by pulling a string, as Mortimer already knew from watching Mr. Walpole through the window.

  The switch for the fuel was already switched to the ON position. Mr. Walpole had left it that way when he went off to talk to Mr. Dunnage.

  Meanwhile, Arabel was beginning to feel a little better, and she was able to open her eyes. She looked around her for Mortimer, but could not see him anywhere. She stood up, holding on to a tree to balance herself, because the ground still seemed to be rocking about under her feet. She could see Sandy in the distance; he was now pedaling about, holding an open umbrella in one hand and a top hat in the other; he wave
d the top hat to Arabel and then put it on his head.

  "Sandy, have you seen Mortimer?" called Arabel, but Sandy did not hear her.

  "Are you feeling all right, my dear?" said a lady in a blue hat, walking up to Arabel. "You look rather green."

  "Yes, thank you, I'm all right," said Arabel politely. "But I am anxious about my raven, Mortimer. I would like to find him. Have you seen him, please?"

  "Your raven?" said the lady. "I'm afraid, my dear, that you are still a little bit dizzy. You had better sit by me quietly on this seat for a while. Then we will look for your mummy. I am rather surprised that she let you do that dangerous ride on that boy's shoulders."

  The lady obliged Arabel to sit beside her on a bench; she held on to Arabel's hand very tightly.

  "Now tell me, my dear," she said, looking round the garden, "what sort of clothes is your mummy wearing? Is she a tall lady or a short one? Does she have a hat and coat on?"

  "She has an overall covered with flowers," said Arabel. "But—"

  Taking no notice of Arabel, the lady began stopping people as they passed by, and saying: "This little girl seems to have lost her mummy. Will you tell her, if you see her, that I have her child and am sitting on this bench?"

  "Excuse me," said Arabel politely. "It isn't my mother that I have lost, but my raven, Mortimer. He doesn't have a coat, but he is quite tall for a raven. And he is black all over and has hair on his beak."

  "Oh dear," said the lady, "I am afraid you are still feeling unwell, my poor child. Perhaps we had better look for a nice, kind policeman. I am sure he will be able to take you to your mummy, who must be very worried, wondering where you have got to."

  By this time Mortimer had climbed up on top of the LawnSabre, and had found the string that was used to start the motor. He took firm hold of it in his strong, hairy beak.

  Mr. Walpole was still crossly propping up his battered daffodils and tying them to sticks with bits of raffia which he took out of his trouser pocket. He did not notice what Mortimer was doing.

  "Are you feeling a little better now, my dear?" said the lady in the blue hat.

  "Yes, thank you," said Arabel, at last managing to wriggle loose from the lady's grasp. And she climbed down from the bench.

  "Then," said the lady, grabbing Arabel's hand again, "we will go and find a nice, kind policeman."

  "But I don't want a policeman," said Arabel. "I want my raven, Mortimer."

  Just at that moment Mortimer gave the cord of the LawnSabre a tremendous jerk. The motor, which was still warm, burst at once into an earsplitting roar.

  "Kaaark!" shouted Mortimer joyfully.

  "Hey!" shouted old Mr. Walpole, looking round from his broken daffodils. "Who the pest has started my mower? Hey, you! You get away from that-urr machine. Don't you dare start it!"

  But it was too late. Mortimer jumped from the starting string to the right handle of the LawnSabre. There was a switch on the handle which had four different positions: START, SLOW, FAST, AND VERY FAST. Mortimer's jump shifted the switch from the START to the FAST position, and the mower began rolling over the grass.

  "Oh my goodness!" said Arabel. "There's Mortimer!"

  And, pulling her hand out of the lady's clasp, she began running toward Mortimer and the LawnSabre as fast as she could go. The LawnSabre, at the same time, was rolling equally fast toward Arabel.

  "NEVERMORE!" yelled Mortimer, mad with excitement, jumping up and down on the handle of the mower. His jumping moved the lever into the VERY FAST position, and the LawnSabre began to go almost as quickly as Sandy on his wheel, or the skaters on their skateboards, careering across the grass toward Arabel.

  "You there! You stop that mower directly, do you hear me?" shouted Mr. Walpole.

  But Mortimer did not hear Mr. Walpole—the LawnSabre was making far too much noise for him to be able to hear anything else at all. Even if Mortimer had heard Mr. Walpole, he would not have paid the least attention to him. Mortimer was having a wonderful time. The LawnSabre crashed through a bed of daffodils and tulips, mowing them as flat as a bath mat.

  Mr. Walpole let out a bellow of rage. "Stop that, you black monster!" he shouted. "You bring that-urr mower back here!"

  But Mortimer did not have the least intention of stopping the LawnSabre. And, even if he had meant to, he did not know how to stop the motor.

  The LawnSabre went on racing across a stretch of grass which had already been cut once, and then it crossed the paved strip where the skaters were skating. The noise made by the metal blades on the stone pavement was dreadful—like a giant mincer grinding up a trainload of rocks.

  "Oh, my blades!" moaned Mr. Walpole, putting his hands over his ears.

  Now Mortimer noticed Arabel running toward him.

  With a loud shriek of pride and enjoyment, he drove the LawnSabre straight in her direction.

  "WATCH OUT!" everybody shouted in horror. Mr. Walpole turned as white as one of his own snowdrops and shut his eyes. The kind lady in the blue hat fainted dead away into a bed of pink tulips. For it seemed certain that the LawnSabre would run over Arabel and mow her as flat as the daffodils.

  But just then, luckily, Sandy, who had seen what was happening from the other side of the garden, came pedaling over the grass at frantic speed on his wheel. He swung round in a swooping curve and just managed to catch up Arabel in his umbrella and whisk her out of the way of the LawnSabre as it chewed its way along.

  "Oh, WELL DONE!" everybody shouted.

  Mr. Walpole opened his eyes again.

  Sandy and Arabel had crashed into a lilac bush, all tangled up with each other and the wheel and the umbrella, but they were not hurt. As soon as Arabel had managed to scramble out of the bush, she went running after Mortimer and the LawnSabre.

  "Stop him, oh please stop him!" she panted. "Can't somebody stop him? Please! It's Mortimer, my raven!"

  "All very well to say stop him, but how's a body a-going to set about that?" demanded Mr. Walpole. "That-urr mower's still got half a tank o' fuel in her; her'll run for a good half hour yet, and dear knows where that feathered fiend'll get to in that time; he could mow his way across half London and flatten the Houses o' Parliament 'afore anybody could lay a-holt of him. What we need is a helicopter, and a grappling iron, and a posse o' motorcycle cops."

  But before any of these things could be fetched, it became plain that the headlong course of the LawnSabre was likely to end in a very sudden and drastic manner. For Mortimer and the mower were now whizzing at breakneck speed straight for the huge crater at the bottom of which the round stone table with the sword in it had been discovered.

  "Nevermore!" shouted Mortimer, looking ahead joyfully, and remembering the jet plane he had seen take off into the air at Heathrow Airport.

  Arabel, running after him across the grass, was now much too far behind to have any hope of catching up.

  "Mortimer!" she panted. "Please turn around. Please come back! Can't you stop the motor?"

  But Mortimer could not hear her and, anyway, he did not wish to turn or stop. With a final burst of speed, the LawnSabre shot clean over the edge of the huge hole, bursting through the guard fence as if it had been made of soapsuds.

  A scream of horror went up from all the people in the garden. And the people who were down in the bottom of the hole suddenly saw a large red motor mower in midair right over their heads, with Mortimer sitting on it.

  Luckily there was just time for them to jump back against the sides of the hole.

  Then the LawnSabre struck the stone table at the bottom of the hole. There was a tremendous crash; the sound was so loud that it could be heard all over Rumbury Town, from the cricket ground to the pumping station.

  The LawnSabre was smashed to smithereens. The round stone table was crushed to powdery rubble.

  But Mortimer, discovering with great disgust that the LawnSabre was not going to take off into the air as he had expected it would, had spread his wings at the last moment and rose up into the air himself. He did
not like flying, but there were times when he had to, and this was one of them.

  So all the people up above in Rainwater Crescent Garden, who had rushed to the side of the hole in the expectation of seeing some dreadful calamity, were amazed to see a large black bird come flapping slowly up out of the crater, carrying a massive metal blade with a red flashing stone in the handle at one end.

  As he rose up, Mortimer had grabbed at the hilt of the sword which had been stuck in the stone table; and he took it with him in his flight.

  "Oh, if only I had brought my camera!" lamented Dick Otter, a young man from the Rumbury Borough News, who had come along because there was a rumor that King Arthur and all his knights had turned up in Rainwater Crescent.

  Mortimer was feeling very ruffled. He wanted his tea. Also, he did not quite know what to do with the metal blade he had brought up with him out of the hole. It was very heavy and tasted disagreeably of old lettuce leaves left to soak too long in vinegar. Mortimer hated the feel of it in his beak. But he did like the red sparkling stone in the handle. He wanted to show it to Arabel.

  Just at that moment Mr. Dunnage, the history teacher, came rushing back with a white-bearded man, who was his friend, Professor Lloyd-Williams, from the British Museum, an expert in Arthurian history.

  The first thing they saw as they ran into Rainwater Crescent Garden was an openmouthed, gaping crowd, all gazing up at a rope that was stretched like a clothesline between two plane trees.

  And on this rope a large black bird was walking slowly along, swaying a good deal from side to side. In his beak he held a long, heavy-looking, rusty sword with a red stone in its hilt.