Whispering in the Wind

by Alan Marshall

  ‘But I am a kangaroo.’

  ‘That’s true,’ admitted the Bunyip. ‘I’ve never been trained to fight kangaroos. I think I could have beaten you with flames instead of water.’

  Greyfur would have argued with him, but Peter broke in. ‘Would you accept a gift from me?’ he asked the Bunyip. ‘I’d like to present you with something before you kill us.’

  The Bunyip hesitated, ‘Well, when I was a small boy my mother used to tell me, “Never take gifts from strange men on bicycles”—that’s what she said. I’m not sure whether I should take it or not.’

  ‘But I haven’t got a bicycle,’ said Peter.

  ‘That’s true. All right. I’ll take it—but this doesn’t mean I’m not going to kill you, of course. I’m paid five dollars a week to kill Princes as well as Knights, you know. I have to prevent people rescuing the Beautiful Princess. Now, what is the gift you are going to give me? I’ll kill you after I’ve thanked you for it.’

  ‘It’s only a leaf, but it’s a Magic Leaf,’ said Peter. ‘It will make you feel good,’ and he handed him one.

  The Bunyip took it in his hand and looked at it in wonder. It seemed rather a paltry present to him. But then he became thoughtful. His face, which had had a ruthless expression upon it, softened. His hard eyes became gentle. You could see that great changes were taking place inside his grotesque head, and he looked round him as if something had happened to his surroundings.

  ‘Are you feeling happy?’ Peter asked.

  ‘I’ve never been so happy in my life.’ He looked at Peter in wonder. ‘You are the most wonderful Prince I have ever seen. What made me want to kill you, I wonder! I couldn’t possibly kill you now. In fact I’m sorry I tried to kill Greyfur. I love Greyfur.’

  ‘Do you really?’ said Greyfur, pulling a mirror out of her pouch and looking at herself in the glass. She lifted her hand and brushed back the fur behind her ear. ‘Fancy that now. I’ve always been rather pretty, I think.’

  ‘Do you know what the leaf makes you?’ Peter asked the Bunyip, ignoring Greyfur’s remark.

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘It makes you loved and needed. People will love you now instead of being afraid of you.’

  ‘I’ve never been loved,’ said the Bunyip wistfully.

  ‘You will be now.’

  ‘I’d like to give you a present if I had one,’ said the Bunyip. ‘What could I do that would please you?’

  ‘Well,’ said Peter. ‘I want to find out why the Beautiful Princess is imprisoned. I want to talk to her. How can we arrange that?’

  The Bunyip began to look frightened, but he had the Magic Leaf in his hand and the fear left him as its strength crept into him.

  ‘The Beautiful Princess would love to meet you; I know she would. She is a most unhappy girl. I have never told anyone this before. But it will be hard to get you into the castle. You will have to talk to her in her room. It is the only way. I often take her riding round the castle track but there are always soldiers with us. Wait till I think of some way of getting you inside.’

  He scratched his head and grew thoughtful, then said to Peter, ‘Now look, this is the plan. Every morning at seven o’clock they open the castle gates and two soldiers appear and blow their bugles. This is to wake everyone up. Then they lower the drawbridge and stand there on guard. After breakfast I walk to the castle doorway where I ask permission to see the King. Every morning I give him a report on the number of Knights and Princes who have tried to rescue the Beautiful Princess. The two soldiers go to the King and announce that I am waiting. Then they come back and tell me he will see me. Sometimes, of course, he is too busy and I have to go away. But this doesn’t often happen. He nearly always sees me.

  ‘Now, the soldiers are away about ten minutes and this will give you time to dash across the drawbridge and get in through the castle door before they return. Once you’re inside you’ll have to find your way through the passageways and up the stairs that lead to the floor where the Princess has her room.

  ‘Her room is the one with the blue curtains away up there on the tower.’ And the Bunyip pointed with his tail to the window Peter had noticed when they arrived.

  ‘There are many corridors to pass through before you reach her room. Be careful to remain hidden. If the King or Queen were to find you in the castle, they would cut off your heads. Hide whenever you hear footsteps. You’ll have to find your own way out. Remember they close the castle gates and raise the drawbridge about lunch-time.’

  ‘We’ll get out somehow,’ said Peter. ‘Now we’ll go back into the bush and find a place to camp. We’ll be here in the morning at seven o’clock.’

  ‘I’ll be looking out for you,’ said the Bunyip.

  13

  Inside the Castle Gates

  Next morning Peter and Greyfur were sitting beneath the big tree when the Bunyip arrived. It was sunny, and a willow tree growing beside the moat was trailing its drooping fingers in the water. Kookaburras were laughing from the bush and they could hear a lyrebird’s song from a valley just beyond the castle road.

  The Bunyip sat down beside them.

  ‘I haven’t slept all night,’ he complained. ‘I’ve been worrying about you two. The castle is full of soldiers. It is a very busy place; there are cooks and chambermaids and ladies-in-waiting and courtiers. Only a brave man would try to force his way to where the Beautiful Princess is imprisoned. There are two huge mastiffs guarding her doorway. Don’t you think you’d better put it off for a day or two? I can’t bear the thought of either of you getting killed.’

  ‘Crooked Mick told me once never to put things off,’ said Peter. ‘Things don’t alter just because you put them off. I’d like to go into the castle today. Don’t worry. I’ve brought Thunderbolt with me,’ and he showed the Bunyip the coiled stock-whip lying on the ground beside him.

  ‘And I can run very fast,’ said Greyfur. ‘Those mastiffs wouldn’t have a chance of catching me.’

  Then they heard the screech of rusty pulleys as the huge drawbridge slowly began to move.

  ‘They are opening the doors,’ whispered the Bunyip. ‘Get behind the tree—quickly!’

  The big chains holding the bridge vibrated as they took the weight and the heavy structure came down slowly until its end rested on the moat bank not far from the big tree. Then came the sound of bolts being drawn and the great doors swung open.

  Two soldiers emerged carrying trumpets. They wore leather jerkins and swords hung by their sides. When they reached the bridge they raised the trumpets to their lips and blew such a blast that the kookaburras stopped laughing and the dabchicks swimming on the moat beneath the willow dived beneath the surface, leaving only rings of ripples above them.

  ‘I’m going now,’ said the Bunyip hurriedly. ‘Come when I beckon you.’

  He began walking ponderously towards the drawbridge. He was so big and so heavy that the earth seemed to quiver at each step he took.

  ‘I wonder, will the bridge hold him?’ said Greyfur.

  The bridge did shake as he lumbered across, but it was strongly made and the Bunyip had crossed it hundreds of times before. When he reached the entrance to the castle the soldiers told him to wait and then they both hurried through the portal to announce his coming to the King. After they had disappeared the Bunyip beckoned with his tail and Peter and Greyfur ran across the bridge and joined him. Peter held Thunderbolt tightly in his hand.

  ‘Through the door—quickly,’ urged the Bunyip. ‘Turn up the corridor to your left. It’s the least used, and from there you can find your way to the Princess’s room.’

  Peter and Greyfur darted inside and turned up a passageway to the left. They had not been seen though, at the rear of the wide hall which opened out from the entrance door, Peter saw a group of soldiers going through a doorway that led to the courtyard. They were laughing and joking and didn’t notice the two intruders.

  The passageway led to a wide corridor down which people were hurrying. Th
ey carried bags of vegetables and fruit, and the carcasses of sheep, which they were taking to sell in the castle kitchens. Evidently this was the morning on which the farmers, orchardists and butchers of the district brought in their produce for sale.

  ‘If I had a bag of fruit,’ said Peter, ‘I would be able to pretend I was an orchardist.’

  ‘Not in those clothes,’ said Greyfur, ‘but we can soon change that.’ She pulled a smock from her pouch. It seemed to be made of some coarse material that had been used a lot since it was patched and soiled. She threw it over Peter’s head and it covered him completely. Diving into her pouch again, she brought out an old felt hat. Peter put it on his head after handing over the princely hat he was wearing. Greyfur dropped it into her pouch where it disappeared.

  ‘I’ll retrieve it for you later,’ she assured him. ‘Now we’ll have to get the bag of fruit.’

  She fumbled round in her pouch for a moment and pulled out a hessian bag full of oranges.

  She frowned, ‘I wanted a bag of mixed fruit and all I’ve got is oranges.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Peter. ‘I’ll grow oranges and nothing else. Come on. Let’s join these people.’

  They waited a moment till an old man, who was struggling with a small cart laden with potatoes, came by. Peter stepped out of the passage and began to help him by pushing at the back. Greyfur followed, carrying the oranges.

  ‘Thanks, friend,’ said the old man. ‘Very few people give you a helping hand these days.’

  They were entering the courtyard and they could see the soldiers drilling.

  ‘Not far now,’ said the old man. He led them to a wide doorway that opened into the kitchens and markets of the castle. In a big room there were rough benches and heavy tables upon which the farmers could place the produce they wished to sell.

  Greyfur put the bag of oranges on one of the tables. After saying goodbye to the old man, Peter came over and stood beside her.

  ‘What will we do now?’ he asked.

  One of the buyers for the castle, a fat smug man with a patronising air, heard him and came over to them.

  ‘I’ll tell you what you can do,’ he said. ‘You can take that kangaroo out of here. We’re not making kangaroo tail soup this week—understand? Now get.’

  ‘What about my oranges?’ stammered Peter, who had become afraid when he realised the man thought Greyfur was for sale.

  ‘Oranges, eh?’ The buyer took one out of the bag. ‘Now this is something. It’s just what we want for the Beautiful Princess.’ He squeezed it with his fingers. ‘They are magnificent. I’ll take them.’

  ‘Can we take them up to her?’ asked Peter, who saw in these remarks an opportunity to meet the princess.

  The buyer was amazed and so angry that he became red in the face.

  ‘What talk is this?’ he shouted, looking round at the people. ‘Here is a man who dares to ask to see the Beautiful Princess. He must be an imposter. He is dressed in rags. And he wants to take the oranges to the Beautiful Princess. Call out the guard. Tell the King. Cut off his head.’

  He was waving his arms about and working himself up into a terrible rage. The people all looked at Peter in astonishment. He must be mad, they thought. But they were also afraid.

  Greyfur, too, was afraid. She thought Peter’s remarks had been foolish. In the courtyard the soldiers had stopped drilling and were looking towards the kitchen from where they could hear shouting. One of them rushed off to tell the King.

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ she said quickly to Peter who now realised what he had done. ‘Hop on my back. Don’t waste any time. Come on,’

  Peter leapt on to her back, clutching Thunderbolt with one hand and holding on to her fur with the other. She made a mighty leap and was through the doorway before the startled buyer had time to stop them.

  She bounded along the side of the courtyard. She had never travelled so fast. It was just as well Peter was a good rider or he would have been thrown. But he clung on tightly and the kangaroo took a side turn into a passageway, leaning sideways like a racing cyclist. She hurtled down the passage, then coming to a narrow stairway went up it four steps at a time.

  At the top was a landing where they paused a moment while Greyfur regained her breath. Peter pulled off the jerkin he had been wearing over his noble clothes. Greyfur gave him back his plumed hat, and once again he was a prince. He had the appearance of a prince, and a prince’s dignity.

  From below they could hear the shouting of men and the sound of running feet. Hounds were baying as if tugging at leashes. It would not be long before the soldiers came pounding up the stairs they had just climbed and they would have to hurry.

  ‘There must be other stairways leading to the floor where the Beautiful Princess is imprisoned,’ said Peter. ‘The guards and soldiers will all make for there and it won’t be long before they search this wing of the castle. Our best plan is to keep climbing till we get to the floor above the Princess’s room. Don’t you think so?’

  ‘There is nothing else we can do,’ said Greyfur. ‘There’s a tower at the end of the castle. We’ll make for there.’

  They climbed stairway after stairway till they came to a small room, evidently used as a storeroom since it was littered with suits of armour, swords and spears. There was a broken spinning wheel and many chairs with loose legs. The place was full of dust and dirty spiders’ webs hung from the ceiling.

  ‘It’s a long while since anyone has been in here,’ said Greyfur. ‘Look at the dust on the floor. You can see our tracks in it.’

  Peter had walked to the window and he found himself looking out over the castle grounds. Below him he could see the moat and, on the far bank, the big tree with the Bunyip lying asleep underneath it. Moonlight was grazing in a clearing beyond the tree and he could see the clump of scrub in which he had hidden the saddle and bridle.

  ‘Come and look down here. I think the Beautiful Princess’s window is just two floors beneath us.’

  Greyfur looked down from the high window and beneath her she saw the flutter of a blue curtain billowing out from the Princess’s room.

  ‘We are lucky,’ she said. ‘That’s her room all right—just below us. Now we’ve got to work out how we can climb down there. We’re not safe here. Soon they will search all these rooms and we shall be captured.’ She put her hand into her pouch and pulled out a coil of rope, the end of which she tied to a heavy beam that was used as a buttress to strengthen the wall.

  ‘What’s that for?’ asked Peter.

  ‘I am going to tie a loop in the rope so that you can sit in it, and then I’ll lower you down to the Princess’s window and you can climb inside. We know she is a kind person and I’m sure will find a way in which you can rescue her. And she may be able to rescue me, too.’

  ‘But we’ll be together.’

  ‘No, I’m going to stop here.’

  ‘You can’t do that. I won’t leave you. Don’t you realise the soldiers will soon break into this room. You are my friend. If you are killed, I don’t know what I’ll do. I’d never be happy again, I know that.’

  ‘This is the only way,’ persisted Greyfur. ‘I can lower you on the rope but I can’t climb down it. You see, after you’ve reached the window I’ll have to pull the rope up again or it would be seen. When the soldiers arrive here and find me, they’ll think I am the kangaroo the shabby man brought in to sell to the kitchen to make kangaroo tail soup. I’m sure they won’t kill me. They don’t know kangaroos can talk and I won’t say anything. If we both stay here, we’ll be killed. If you get into the Princess’s room you will be able to tell her our story and she will think of a way to help us.’

  Peter could see that Greyfur was right, though he felt it would be cowardly to leave her to face the angry soldiers alone. But at length he was persuaded, and he stepped into the loop Greyfur had tied at the end of the rope and clambered over the windowsill.

  ‘Hold tight,’ said Greyfur. ‘Push yourself out from the wall so
that you don’t scrape against it. Good luck,’ and she pushed Peter away from the windowsill.

  Peter began slowly to descend. It was frightening, away up there above the trees and the moat. As the rope lengthened he swung across the castle wall and scraped against the stones. He steadied his descent with his hand against the wall. When he looked up he could see Greyfur’s head at the window looking down at him. He felt comforted.

  Just below him he could see the waving blue curtain, then the descending rope stopped and the window was opposite. He grasped the sill and pulled himself close enough to clamber on to it. He struggled out of the loop and the rope swung away from him, then he stepped inside.

  When Peter had released the rope and disappeared, Greyfur quickly hauled it up and put it into her pouch. She closed the door of the room and hid behind a pile of boxes stacked in the corner. She had pretended to Peter that she was in no danger but here, indoors, where her great speed was useless to her, she was afraid of the dogs that could be heard baying on the floor below. She was crouching behind her boxes and wishing she were bounding through the bush when the tramp of soldiers coming up the stairs brought her thoughts back to the closed room and her fear.

  They thundered against the door with their weapons and shouted for it to be opened but, getting no response, burst it open and came pouring in with their long lances thrust forward in front of them. Two great mastiffs held in leash by dog trainers struggled to free themselves and go snuffling amongst the rubbish that littered the room, but the men held tightly to the leashes and the dogs slipped and scraped on the floor with their huge paws. They panted and bayed and the saliva dripped from their mouths but the ropes held.

  ‘Search the room,’ shouted the captain, a big man with a coarse, unshaven face. ‘There are no rooms above this one. He must be here. Stack all the stuff to one side. He’s hiding in here somewhere.’