Petronella & the Trogot

by Cheryl Bentley

  “Someone help me!” Mrs Bellamy shouted, running around the kitchen, sounding like a prize-hen. “What’s happened to my kitchen? Who let these chickens in?”

  Mayhem followed because the hens were frightened of Mrs Bellamy’s antics so flapped harder, flew higher and clucked louder. They were all in a riot now. Including Mrs Bellamy.

  Alfie appeared at the door. “What be wrong, Mrs Bellamy?” he asked.

  “What be wrong?” she echoed. “What a question, you dumbo. Can’t you see what’s wrong? All these chickens have got into MY kitchen.”

  “No, Mrs Bellamy. Not gotteth into. I goeth and buyeth them at the market mynself this morning. Me thinketh ye should liketh fresh eggs in the mornings for breakfast. For ye and Constable Bellamy, that be.”

  “What? Are you telling me that you actually brought these chickens here? HERE in MY kitchen!”

  “That I be, and I hopeth it would be a great surprise for ye, Mrs Bellamy.”

  “It certainly is.” In despair, Mrs Bellamy sat on her flowered sofa.

  “I hath another surprise for ye, Mrs Bellamy.”

  “Oh, no, I can’t take anymore of this. What is it now?”

  “Ye cometh and taketh a look at ye that there garden, Mrs Bellamy. I buyeth pigs today. A whole family of them. Sweet animals they be for sure. I be so proud of them.”

  Mrs Bellamy couldn’t believe her eyes. All her lawn had been dug up and a pig sty had been built there. And, sure enough, there were pigs racing around in HER garden. Two big ones and two little piglets.

  “Ye watcheth, Mrs Bellamy, while I goeth and feedeth them. There shall be squealing and grunting so loud that all the neighbours shall heareth them. Neighbours both sides shall be envious of ye and me. Having such healthy looking pigs.”

  Now under shock, Mrs Bellamy picked up her phone and rang her husband. He was working overtime. At the police station they were still sorting out skeletons and trying to work out who they belonged to. “Quick,” she shouted down the phone, “come home. Tragedy has hit our house. There are chickens running amok in our kitchen and pigs grunting about in our garden.”

  “It’s only normal for pigs to grunt,” Constable Bellamy tried to comfort her.

  “Look, Clement, you don’t understand. You must come home at once. It’s that axeman. He’s the cause of all this. Our house has never been the same since he planted himself here. The only answer to this is for us to move out. When I say move out, I mean move right out of this village altogether. We need to get as far as possible from him, where he can’t find us. Please come home,” she begged.

  “But who would we sell it to? The Axeman?” Constable Bellamy said.

  “I don’t know the answer to that. All I know is that I am packing my case and going to my sister’s. You stay on here, if you like. But I am leaving and only coming back when the place is ship-shape like it used to be.”

  “I don’t think we can get it looking like a ship. You’ll just have to go, my dear,” he said, smiling to himself. “I have to stay and work. Don’t worry, I’ll speak to The Axeman when I get home. Now you go along to your sister’s and give her my love.”

  Constable Bellamy couldn’t believe his luck. He’d much rather live with Alfie, chickens AND pigs than with Mrs Bellamy. At least they wouldn’t nag.

  That evening when Constable Bellamy got home, his wife was not there. He marched around his house and soon saw the chickens clucking around the kitchen. Alfie came in from the garden through the back door.

  “Ah, hello, Mr Bellamy. “Hath ye had a good day at work?” Alfie asked.

  “A very good day, my friend. What about you?”

  “I hath had a wonderful day. I hath all these chickens and pigs and they maketh me happy. I must needs buyeth some goats but didst nat see any at the farmers’ market this morning.”

  “That’s strange,” Constable Bellamy said. “I’m sure they had them last time I was there. We were just looking, you know. Couldn’t buy any animals while Mrs Bellamy was around.” Then Constable Bellamy lowered his voice and whispered to Alfie: “Are you sure Mrs Bellamy has left? Has she gone to her sister’s?”

  “Oh, so she hath. Taketh a big case with her an all,” said Alfie. “I showeth her all the animals, but she seemeth nat to liketh them. She sayeth she be going to stayeth with her sister and slammeth the door behind her when she leaveth.”

  “Happy day!” said Constable Bellamy. “You are my best friend. You have done what nobody else could have done. You’ve made my wife leave.”

  “I didst nat meaneth to doth that.”

  “I know. That’s the beauty of it all. You, my friend can stay here as long as you like and you can have as many animals as you want here. You know what? I’ll drive round all the farmers’ markets in the area with you and maybe we can get a few sheep too, as well as the goats.”

  “Ye doth nat mean that for real, sir, doth ye? My word, what a great man ye be, Mr Bellamy. I hath another surprise for ye,” Alfie said.

  “What’s that then?” asked Constable Bellamy.

  “Looketh at that door, sir, and ye shall soon see.”

  Constable Bellamy swung around and at the door stood a peasant woman. Rosy-cheeked, fat, and smiling.

  “This be myn Gwendolen!”

  PART TWO

  Ye be about to entereth The Trogot Caves.

  No way back beyond this point.

  1 The Black Box

  Percy had gone to bed and Petronella was sitting and thinking. All sorts of strange ideas whizzed around in her head. But the one that kept coming round again and again was The Trogot. She simply could not get that black monster out of her mind. As night time was closing in, she got more and more worried. It was already quite dark out there. She was hoping The Hooded Horseman would come back so that she could ask him questions about The Trogot. She had to find out. She could not see any sign of him, nor hear a horse’s hooves. Perhaps later.

  Though she certainly did not want to see The Trogot, she was drawn to the spare bedroom like a magnet. She climbed the stairs and stood behind the door for a while. Should she go in or not? Maybe if she went to bed and ignored the monster, it would leave her alone. But she couldn’t help herself. She had to do it. Slowly she pulled down the door handle. Pushed the door forward a little. Through the thin crack, she could see a strange light. It wasn’t an electric light. Too dim for that. Wrong colour. Couldn’t be a candle either because the light didn’t flicker. What on this earth was it?

  As she opened the door wider, she noticed the light was coming in through the window. To get a better view she went into the middle of the room. No, she still couldn’t see where it was coming from. She slowly crept up to the window, hoping The Trogot wouldn’t see her. Soon she was standing right up against the window sill. She finally saw where the light was coming from: The Black Circle around the roots of The Trogot. It was indeed a hole. The light that shone up from it made that clear. She could make out a black shadow of a man - the figure was digging. Then another shadow, like the first, doing the same thing. And a third. Who were they? One of them looked up. Petronella quickly hid behind the curtain. They must know that someone lives in Charis Cottage. But if these were the shadows, where were the men they belonged to? The only way was to go out, find the men and talk to them. Ask them straight out what they were doing on her land - at that time of night.

  She rushed to fetch her heavy shawl, wrapped it around herself and ran down the stairs. She opened the front door and there, in the doorway, right in front of her stood The Hooded Horseman. His horse tied to the usual tree in the distance. Petronella screamed.

  “No, Pe...tro...ne...lla,” he said, “doth nat be afraid, ye know I shall nat harm ye.”

  “I don’t know what to think anymore. What’s happening around here? Every night I am terrified to go to bed. That big tree, or The Trogot as you call it, haunts me. I really think I should move out.”

  “Ye cannat doth that,” The Hooded Horseman said.

&nb
sp; “Yes, I can. I will look for a house a long way from here.”

  “As I sayeth before, ye cannat. The reason be that ye be too drawn to The Trogot. Ye must needs find out about it. Ye must needs findeth out about the end of Percy’s parents.”

  “What about Percy’s parents? What happened to them?”

  “I be so sorry, I cannat telleth ye now.”

  “Look, I am fed up with all this mystery. Why can’t you just tell me?”

  “Ye shall findeth out when the time cometh. I cannat doth anymore than that, believeth me. I hath come to giveth ye this, Pe...tro...ne...lla.”

  The Hooded Horseman took a small black box from an inside pocket of his cape. Petronella noticed it had a skull painted on its lid in silver.

  “Pe...tro...ne...lla, if ye goeth anywhere near The Trogot, ye must needs hath this box with ye. It be sealed. Ye cannat open it. But the moment you must needs help, it shall open on its own. This box can save ye in times of trouble. It were giveth to me by an old man - The Blind Prophet - I once met who beggeth on a street corner one evening. He sayeth he were a prophet and I were to care for this box until the day TCO were found. Only then were I to part with it to giveth it to The Chosen One. Of course, that person be you, Pe...tro...ne...lla.”

  “I really do not understand what it is you want from me. All this is wrapped up in secrets, and I am beginning to think that you bring me bad luck,” Petronella said.

  “Pe...tro...ne...lla, you hath met my fellow-villagers, The Strincas who lived in Fort Willow centuries ago. Telleth me, what kind of folk be they?”

  “I think they are all delightful. They are modest and good. I have never met such nice people. All my life I have been running away from places because everyone was nasty to me. At last, I have found a few people who are fond of me.”

  “There you be, Pe...tro...ne...lla. What ye hath sayeth be the truth. Marian, Percy, Miss Primrose and the other teachers, Alfie and Gwendolen, Pepin the Dairyman, and all the peasants with their families, these be indeed good folk. Hath ye asked yeself why only some of the good folk of The Strincas civilisation hath ariseth from the field?”

  “To tell you the truth, I hadn’t even noticed that there are no bad people among The Strincas. Most of the villagers of Fort Willow today are not good. They are spiteful and full of hate.”

  “It hath always been so, Pe...tro...ne...lla. The bad folk of all times hath spread hate in the world. But only good folk like you, Pe...tro...ne...lla, can be happy because their souls be beautiful. Folk with ugly souls liveth a life of misery. If ye soul be ugly ye cannat be happy.”

  “I agree with every word you have said. I am much happier than a lot of people I’ve met in the village. They complain all the time. Always want more than they have. So where are all the evil Strincas?” Petronella asked.

  “You shall knoweth that soon enough, Pe...tro...ne...lla. Ye shall seeth where the others hath gone.”

  “Maybe we will never know,” replied Petronella.

  “Ye shall, Pe...tro...ne...lla. The Blind Prophet sayeth so. He be never wrong. He sayeth that TCO was not to leaveth home without The Metal Disc and The Black Box. Also, he sayeth to be mighty careful. Ye can only useth The Black Box seven times. After that, it shall loseth its power. Please keepeth count of the times ye useth it.”

  2 The Ridge

  Percy had been woken up by the talking he heard downstairs. The Hooded Horseman had just left and Petronella was shaking.

  “What be the matter, Petronella?” the young boy asked.

  “Oh, nothing, Percy. You had better go to bed. It’s late and you need to rest.”

  “No, I cannat rest unless I knoweth ye be well. Ye be very worried now. I can seeth that. What be the matter? Please telleth me. I knoweth about The Trogot.”

  Petronella couldn’t believe what she heard.

  “How on earth do you know about The Trogot?”

  “I didst nat wanteth to frighten ye. But I didst know about it. It be here in the garden all those centuries ago. Me thinketh my parents be killeth by it.”

  “Oh, Percy. Only a few minutes ago I wanted to move away from here to get away from all these strange goings-on. How can I go and not find out about what happened to your parents and the other good people of The Strincas civilisation? I will stay. I am determined to get to the bottom of this mystery.”

  “No, Petronella, WE shall findeth out. Ye be not alone anymore. I shall cometh with you and together we shall at last solveth the mystery of The Trogot.”

  “Go where?” Petronella asked.

  “Goeth to the ridge of The Black Circle around The Trogot.”

  Petronella looked frightened. “What? You mean go up close to The Trogot?”

  “Yes, we must needs, if we wanteth to findeth out about what be hidden down there.”

  “Well, can’t we go tomorrow?” Petronella said.

  “No, Petronella. We must needs go now. I hath looked out of the window of the spare bedroom and seeth the shadows digging under the full moon. We must needs goeth now. While the moon still shineth.”

  Percy went upstairs to get his coat, boots and cap. Petronella put on her army boots, went to the larder to get The Metal Disc and checked that she still had The Black Box with her. She then took Percy by the hand. Together they were ready to leave the warmth and safety of Charis Cottage to venture out into the darkness and danger.

  Maalox sat on the window sill of the spare bedroom and watched them as they reached the ridge. He knew where they were going. The white shield on his chest grew bigger.

  3 The Ferryman

  Petronella and Percy were standing on the edge of the enormous pit around the trunk of The Trogot. In the light of the full moon, and the lights shining up from the pit, they could see inside the big black hole. All around the walls were steps leading downwards. The underground part of the trunk was also split in two. As if these were the feet of The Trogot firmly secured in the soil. On the rugged steps, shadows were digging busily widening the hole.

  “Hello, I’d like to ask you some questions,” Petronella called out. Petronella and Percy waited a while. No answer came. She tried again. And again, no answer.

  “We must needs goeth down some steps, moveth closer to them. They cannat heareth us from here,” Percy said.

  “You’re right. Let’s go down a few steps and try calling them again,” said Petronella.

  Petronella went first. Their feet sank into the steps made of soft wet soil. As they went further down, they could see more and more shadows. Petronella and Percy kept calling out but the shadows went on digging. It then dawned on Petronella that the diggers simply could not hear them. They were deaf. And neither could they speak or see. They slammed their spades against the walls of the pit then dug chunks out. Some tried running one of their hands along the walls to feel where they should start work. But there were no people in the hole. Only these shadows reflected on the walls, in the moonlight. Petronella and Percy went past lots of shadows. So many, that they had lost count.

  “We must needs go down further. Until we findeth someone to speaketh to,” Percy said.

  So they went down another curved flight of steps until, in front of them, was a huge tunnel cut into the earth. An archway at its entrance. Across the top on the lintel were the words:

  Ye be about to entereth The Trogot Caves.

  No way back beyond this point.

  They looked behind them. A heavy iron gate had slammed down and blocked the passage they had just walked down.

  “We have no choice but to go in,” Petronella said.

  “Doth nat be frightened, Petronella. We must needs findeth out where this tunnel leadeth to,” Percy said.

  They walked through the archway. Rats were scurrying from one side to another, along the gutters either side of the walls. Petronella screamed. Percy tightened his grip on her hand urging her to go on. After about half an hour’s walking, a large clearing opened up before them on their right. It was an underground lake. With wa
ter as black as can be, which gently splashed up against a wall of flint.

  And bobbing up and down in the waves were some heads. They surfaced and went back down under, as the water moved to and fro. For a few minutes, it wasn’t clear what was making the water move. But in the distance, gliding through an archway joining the two caves, they saw a boat coming towards them. At its helm was a ferryman. And sitting in the boat, huddled up tightly together, were a boatload of shadows. When the boat reached the bank where Petronella and Percy were standing, the shadows got out one by one. As each one stepped off the boat, The Ferryman hit him hard on the back with his heavy oar to hurry them along. The shadows opened their mouths to scream, but no sound came out. They struggled as they moved towards a pile of spades. They took one each, went to the wall of the cave and started digging another tunnel; next to the tunnel Petronella and Percy had just come out of.

  It was as if Petronella and Percy did not exist. The shadows took no notice of them at all. But The Ferryman turned around and saw them. He was walking slowly towards them with his heavy oar still in his hand.

  “We have been expecting you,” The Ferryman said. “You are Petronella and Percy, are you not?”

  Petronella and Percy looked at each other, hardly believing what they had heard. How could anyone have been expecting them in a place like this? They had only made up their minds to go down The Trogot that very night.

  “Welcome to Trogot Caves. Now that you have entered there is no turning back. You must go on until you reach the way out back to Fort Willow. But there is a maze of tunnels and caves under here. All on different levels. You have to go all the way down to the bottom of Trogot Caves before you can go back up again and then out into your world.”

  “How shall we knoweth where to go?” Percy asked.

  “Someone will point you in the right direction. I will now take you across to the other side of the lake, where I’ve just come from. I need to fetch another boatload of shadows. There you’ll find a spiral stairwell taking you down to a lower level. You will be met by a guard and shown the way forward.”