I thought about it for a moment and then my rapierlike wit kicked in.
‘Well, maybe the man could turn to the landlord and say, “Give me a hand to get this luper out of here!”’
‘No, that’s too obvious! Can’t you see that the original joke is based on a misunderstanding?’
‘I’m not surprised. I certainly misunderstood it.’
‘Yes, but that’s because you . . .’
My master broke off in surprise as Mistress Sarah appeared at the open door of the barn. She had a hand on her swollen stomach and, though she was still smiling, there was something decidedly strained about her expression.
‘Alexander,’ she said, calmly. ‘It’s time.’
‘Yes, dear,’ said Alexander, waving a hand in dismissal. ‘Just put the food on the table and I’ll be in just as soon as I’ve explained something to old thicko here.’
‘No dear, you don’t understand. It’s not time for food. It’s time.’
My master looked at her for a moment and then he did a passable impression of a man waking up from a deep sleep. His eyes widened until they were nearly bulging out of his head.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Oh it’s time!’
He looked at me. ‘Max, it’s time!’
He jumped to his feet and began to panic.
‘It’s time! Time! Max, don’t just stand there! Go for the . . . the . . .’
‘The what, Master?’
‘That old woman, the . . . whatever she calls herself.’
‘The . . . midwife, Master?’
‘Yes, her! Get over to Jerebim as fast as you can and bring her here. Don’t take no for an answer!’
Now he ran across to his wife.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked her. ‘Are you in pain? Is there anything you need me to do? I don’t know what to do!’
‘I’m fine,’ she assured him. ‘Help me back to the house and we’ll get everything ready for Old Megs.’
‘Yes, of course.’
Alexander shot a look at me.
‘Are you still here?’ he cried. ‘Get a move on!’
‘Yes, Master!’
I didn’t wait to be told again. I headed out of the barn and raced along the track leading to the open plains. I kept my head down and went as fast as my legs could carry me and, even though it was a fair old distance, I didn’t stop until I had reached my destination.
Old Megs lived in a ramshackle house in the poorest part of the town. On first inspection, it looked as though scores of other people lived in there with her, as there were lots of men and women wandering in and out of the open doorway. Half a dozen filthy, bedraggled urchins were playing in the dirt in the front yard.
‘I’m looking for Old Megs,’ I told them, as I approached. The response was gales of laughter from the children. Clearly they’d never seen a talking buffalope before.
‘You’re funny,’ shrieked one of them, a filthy little boy of perhaps six years with a shaved head and a mouthful of rotting teeth. ‘You’ve got a funny face!’
I regarded him with a certain look. ‘Yours isn’t much to write home about, either,’ I assured him. ‘Now, tell me, where is Old Megs?’
‘She’s having a lie-down,’ said an equally mucky little girl. ‘She’s been at the ale again.’
‘What?’
I was horrified by this news.
‘Well, go and get her up, immediately. This is an emergency, a matter of life and death!’
They didn’t seem at all impressed by this information, so I added:
‘There’s money involved.’
That did the trick. The rotten-toothed boy jumped up and ran into the house as though he had just been prodded up the backside with a red hot poker. A few moments later, the shutters of an upstairs window opened and Old Megs leaned out, looking distinctly the worse for wear. Mind you, she wasn’t much to look at in her best condition.
She was a filthy, wizened crone of advanced years, with a great wart-ridden hooked nose, grey sunken cheeks and, as far as I could tell, not one tooth in her head. Her long grey hair hung down to her shoulders and age had bent her back, but her tiny grey eyes were shrewd enough and her skills as a midwife were renowned throughout Jerebim. A lot of people thought she was a witch and they probably weren’t far from the truth.
‘What d’you want?’ she croaked, in a voice as dry as the plains during a drought.
‘You,’ I said. ‘I’ve been sent by Alexander Darke, who bids you come to the aid of his young wife who is about to have her first baby.’
She shrugged her humped shoulders.
‘Well, you’ll have to wait a while,’ she said. ‘I’ve been drinking and I need to sleep it off.’
‘Drinking?’ I cried. ‘It’s barely midday!’
‘Can’t help that. I lanced a boil for somebody this morning and he paid me with a barrel of home-brewed ale. Well, it needed drinking, before some of the little mice around here got their paws on it.’
She directed an accusing look down at the urchins below her.
‘Never mind about that!’ I cried, trying not to think too much about the implications of little children drinking strong ale. ‘You must come with me, immediately,’ I said. ‘This is an emergency!’
‘Oh, I doubt that. A lot of young women seem to think that their baby is the most important child ever conceived, but it’s usually just panic. She can wait till tonight.’ I glared up at her.
‘Let me assure you, madam, that she will not. My master paid you a handsome advance to attend this birth, did he not?’
She nodded.
‘Well, yes . . .’
‘So unless you want me to start taking this filthy hovel apart with my bare horns, you’d better get your decrepit body down here right now. Do I make myself clear?’
I know this was uncharacteristically aggressive of me but, in my defence, this was a desperate situation.
Old Megs muttered something under her breath that I didn’t quite catch, but I doubt that she was complimenting me on my persistence. She slammed the shutters and, a few moments later, she appeared at the door, wearing a filthy cloak and carrying a rusa skin bag. She came stomping over to me and, close up, I could smell the powerful alcohol fumes coming off her.
‘It’s disgraceful,’ I observed. ‘Somebody with your responsibility should exercise a little more self-control.’
‘Oh, pipe down, goody four-shoes,’ she grunted.
Then she looked quickly around.
‘Where’s the carriage?’ she asked.
‘Carriage? What carriage?’
She glared at me.
‘Well, how am I to get to the Darke’s residence? You want me to walk?’
‘I doubt that you could in your state,’ I told her. ‘Here, climb up on my back.’
She looked at me.
‘You are jesting, I hope.’
‘No, I leave that kind of thing to my master. Now stop wasting time, and climb on.’
I lowered myself onto my knees in order to assist her and with much grumbling and complaining, she got her wiry little body astride me. I eased myself back to my feet.
‘Are you sitting comfortably?’ I asked her.
‘Fairly,’ she said, but she didn’t sound so sure about it.
‘Good. Now, hang on tight,’ I advised her.
‘Very well, but heed me, Master Buffalope, I am old and frail, so please don’t go too arrrrrrrrrgggghhhhhhh!’
I paid no attention to her after that. I was too intent on getting back to the homestead and, for her part, she must have hung on tenaciously enough, because she didn’t fall off, not once, and then there we were, out of the town and racing across the open plains, heading for home.
Chapter 28
Don’t Stop Me Now!
It was all going suspiciously well. I was just complimenting myself on a job well done, when I heard Old Megs shout a warning and, lifting my head, I saw them: a band of Neruvian hunters, some ten or twelve of them in all, mounted on
equines and armed to the teeth. They were on the road ahead, riding straight towards us at speed.
‘Neruvians!’ screeched Old Megs, just in case I’d failed to notice. ‘They’re the worst kind of brigands. We must turn back!’
‘We can’t do that!’ I shouted back. ‘My mistress needs help.’
I knew enough about these scavengers of the plains to realise that buffalope were common currency to them and I was also aware that they wouldn’t let a little old lady get in their way. She’d be dead in an instant and I would be a prisoner, heading back to some camp out on the plains, ready to be sold to the highest bidder. I had lived through that experience once and I did not intend to suffer through it again. Furthermore, Mistress Sarah couldn’t afford the time it would take for me to try and elude them. So I simply quickened my pace.
‘Press yourself down flat,’ I shouted.
Old Megs did as she was told, but not without shouting out a whole heap of abuse at me.
‘What do you think you’re doing? You stupid idiot buffalope; you’ll get us both killed! Turn back now, before it’s too late.’
‘You tend to your midwifery and leave the manly stuff to me,’ I said, with a calmness that surprised me.
I maintained my speed, noticing as I did so that a couple of the hunters were reaching for their ropes, clearly with the intention of lassoing me.
They had, no doubt, expected me to veer to one side in an attempt to escape them and for the moment, that was exactly what I pretended to do. But I had another plan. At the last possible moment, I swung back to face them and aimed myself at the closest of the Neruvians, a big ugly shaven-headed thug with tattoos all over his face.
I put my head down and ran full tilt into the man’s equine, my horns striking it full in the chest. There was an impact that shook me from head to foot and I felt a momentary sadness at having to treat another four-legged creature so brutally; but then the equine was rearing upwards into the air as though it had taken flight and its rider was screaming in terror. The first equine slammed into the one behind it, smashing it aside and the two creatures went rolling in the dust, taking their luckless riders with them.
Then I was past them and racing on down the dirt road. I could hear old Megs jabbering away behind me, what sounded like a prayer, but I didn’t dare slow down to ask if she was all right.
I hoped I had gained us some respite but, only a few moments later, Old Megs yelled that the riders were coming after us. I risked a glance over my shoulder and saw that they were spurring their mounts and pursuing me with renewed vigour, fanning themselves out behind me in a ragged line.
Very well, I thought, if that’s how you want to play it . . .
Every time I glanced back it was to discover that the Neruvians’ fleet-footed mounts were rapidly gaining on me; I knew in my heart that I could not maintain this breakneck pace for ever. Then a lasso came snaking through the air, as somebody tried to drop a noose around my neck. But I twisted my head to one side and the loop snagged against one of my horns, then pulled tight. I quickened my pace to take up any slack and then judging my moment, I jerked my head hard to one side.
There was a muffled exclamation from behind me, followed by a thud. Suddenly, I could feel that I was pulling extra weight and glancing back, I saw that the Neruvian had been jerked clear out of his saddle and was now ploughing a furrow in the dust with his nose. Judging by the noise he was making, he wasn’t enjoying the experience very much, but he must have had the rope looped around his wrist and could not let go.
‘Old Megs!’ I bellowed. ‘You must cut that rope.’
‘With what?’ she screamed back. ‘My teeth?’
‘I don’t care how you do it,’ I assured her. ‘But he’s slowing us down.’
‘Just a moment.’
She was rummaging in her midwife’s bag and after a few moments, she must have found a sharp implement, because she began sawing frantically at the rope. I was aware now that two riders had come up, one on either side of me, and glancing left and right, I saw that both men had resorted to pulling out their bows and arrows. Now that I had injured some of their comrades, they no longer cared if I lived or died. I desperately needed to put on more speed, but the screaming, flailing figure lurching through the dust behind me was slowing me down no end.
‘Hurry!’ I urged Old Megs.
‘I’m doing my best,’ she shrieked.
‘Do better!’
Now the riders on either side of me were pulling back their bows and taking aim. They had me in a deadly crossfire, aiming at my unprotected flanks . . .
There was a sudden twang and the rope parted. Set free from the drag of the fallen rider, I shot suddenly forward, just as the two riders released their respective bowstrings. I was dimly aware of something flashing past inches from my rear end and then there were two screams as the arrows found human targets instead of their intended one.
‘Incredible!’ shrieked Old Megs. ‘You made them shoot each other.’
‘Of course!’ I gasped. ‘All part of my . . . cunning plan.’
Not that it was, of course, just a happy accident, but she didn’t need to know that.
And now I was encountering another problem. Going along at such a frantic pace was rapidly getting the better of me. I could hardly draw breath and there were still at least six Neruvians in pursuit. I could not hope to outrun them any longer. Glancing back, I saw that the remaining riders had dropped back a little, to see if they could help their fallen comrades, but now they were coming on again, intent on vengeance. I slewed round, coming to a halt, and throwing up a great cloud of dust.
‘What are you doing?’ gasped Old Megs.
‘Climb down,’ I told her. ‘Quickly.’
‘But they are heavily armed,’ she said.
‘Climb down now, or go into the battle with me,’ I said. ‘It’s your choice.’
That seemed to do the trick. She clambered off my back and moved off a short distance, clutching her cloak tightly around her as though she was cold. I gathered all my strength and pawed the ground a little, gathering my strength watching as the riders warily approached me. They all had their bows out now, any thought of taking me alive abandoned.
A strange kind of calm settled over me. I drew a bead on the closest of the riders and then I launched myself forward. As I ran, I remembered back to my Father ’s brave charge against hunters like these, when I was just a little calf, and I hoped that my efforts would not end as tragically as his. Even as I thought it, an arrow slammed against my shoulder, but glanced off bone and went spinning away. I didn’t slow my pace, even when a second arrow buried itself deep in the flesh of my neck. I just kept running and then I was in amongst the riders and I was dealing out my own vengeance, thinking as I did so of my parents and the terrible things that had happened to them.
My head seemed to fill with a hot red mist and I moved instinctively, swinging my horns from side to side, lunging, kicking, throwing my weight this way and that and, with every movement, I felt a weight pushed backwards or sideways or upwards. My head filled with the bellow of terrified equines, the grunts and curses of stricken men, and I was only dimly aware of hard-edged weapons that slashed and stabbed and tore, but I felt no pain.
And then, quite suddenly, my horns were finding nothing but empty air and I stopped moving and let the redness recede. I looked quickly around me, and saw that, aside from Old Megs, I was the only creature left standing on the plain. All around me were dead or maimed men and animals, some lying still, some moaning and trying to crawl away. I stood for a moment, wanting to be sure that nobody was going to come after me again, but it didn’t take long to establish that none of them was capable of doing that.
So I turned and walked back to Old Megs, who just stood there staring at me with new respect in her eyes.
‘I believe that was the bravest thing I ever saw,’ she told me.
’You should have seen my Father,’ I said; and I felt my eyes filling with tears.
/>
‘You’re wounded,’ she said. ‘Let me take a look. I have salves in my bag.’
I shook my head.
‘No time for that,’ I said. ‘Mistress Sarah is waiting. Come, climb up onto my back, we still have quite a way to go.’
She didn’t argue with me this time. She did as she was told and I set off again, leaving what was left of the Neruvians in the dust behind me.
Chapter 29
A New Beginning
There were no more incidents on the road back to the homestead and, before very much longer, we arrived safely and I was able to discharge my passenger, who bowed her ancient head and hobbled meekly into the house; then there was nothing for me to do, but go back to waiting.
After a little while, my master came out to join me, saying that Old Megs had banned him from the room because he kept asking stupid questions. Then he noticed the arrow sticking out of my neck.
‘Max, what happened?’ he gasped.
‘Oh, just an encounter with a few Neruvians,’ I said. ‘They wanted to stop me from coming home. But I managed to persuade them to let us go by.’
He regarded the blood and equine hair clotted on my horns and shook his head.
‘Looks like they needed a lot of persuasion,’ he said. ‘Come on, let’s get that arrow out of you.’
He led me to the barn, fetched hot water and a sharp knife and set to work digging out the arrowhead. He kept apologising for the pain he was causing me, and I have to tell you, it was pretty painful, but my thoughts were on what was happening in the house. I hoped that Mistress Sarah would be all right and that it hadn’t taken me too long to bring back Old Megs.
‘So tell me about these Neruvians,’ said Alexander, as he worked. ‘Were there many of them?’
‘Not so very many,’ I said. ‘Maybe ten or twelve. I didn’t take an awful lot of notice.’
I looked at him.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but when you first found me, it was Neruvians I was running from then. They . . . killed my Father and took my Mother captive.’
A Buffalope's Tale Page 15
