The Tattoo Fox Makes New Friends

by Alasdair Hutton

  ‘What about a trip underground?’ the dog fox suggested. ‘There are more clues to Edinburgh’s history there. And later, if there’s time, we’ll find a hiding place on the hill and watch the Beltane Fire Festival from a safe distance.’

  ‘Good idea! There are many old streets and abandoned homes and workshops underneath the streets,’ said the cat, ‘but… they are cold and dark… I don’t know if the kits would like them.’

  ‘Yes we would! Yes we would!’ shouted the kits.

  ‘We saw a ghost once – and it didn’t scare us. Well, not much...’ said the dog kit.

  It was agreed. After lunch the friends set off using the secret routes they knew, keeping away from people and traffic. Halfway down a narrow stairway they came to a blocked off entrance. The cat slipped easily between the bars. ‘This way,’ he instructed. The animals squeezed through a gap in an ancient rotted wooden door and found themselves in a passageway so dark that they could not see the end. Cats and foxes can usually see quite well in the dark, and they are used to hunting at night, but there was no moonlight here.

  Eventually, their eyes became accustomed to the gloom and they saw what looked like doorways to little houses leading off the narrow passageway. Everything was covered in thick dust. They walked in silence.

  ‘People used to live and work here until the 18th Century,’ whispered the cat after a while. ‘But the conditions were grim and unhealthy, and gradually they moved elsewhere. Closes like this were blocked off when they began to build above,’ he explained solemnly. ‘I just hope they warned all the people inside to get out. I hope they found nice new homes.’

  The kits stayed close by their mother’s side. ‘I think we’ve seen all we need to see,’ said the Tattoo Fox, longing to be back in the fresh air.

  ‘Me too,’ said the dog fox. This wasn’t quite the family outing he had imagined.

  ‘Off we go then,’ said the cat, sounding enormously relieved. ‘Aren’t we lucky to live where we do?’

  They were almost back at the entrance when out of the darkness a chilling voice cried, ‘Not so fast…’

  The foxes’ hackles rose. They pushed the kits behind them.

  A pair of red eyes glowed up at them from the end of a dripping pipe. ‘What are you lot doing here?’ A large black rat sidled forward. ‘These are my premises and I do not appreciate trespassers noseying around,’ it snapped.

  The dog fox swallowed hard. ‘We were just leaving. We wouldn’t dream of staying where we are not welcome.’

  ‘Then what are you waiting for?’ demanded the rat rudely.

  The Tattoo Fox loathed rats and didn’t take her eye off it for a second. If it attacked the kits she would be ready. But the rat simply wanted them gone. ‘Good riddance and don’t come back,’ it sneered.

  Finally they slipped back through the bars and out onto the stairway.

  ‘Thank goodness for fresh air,’ said the dog fox. He gave himself an almighty shake.

  ‘And polite company,’ huffed the Castle Cat.

  ‘I did not like that rat at all,’ said one of the kits, shaking the dust out of her coat.

  ‘Not all animals are friendly. You need to learn whom to trust,’ said the Tattoo Fox. ‘That rat is certainly not on the guest list for my Tattoo Party.’

  ‘Indeed not,’ said the cat. ‘Ill-mannered, rude, charmless, badly brought up…’ He continued muttering to himself as he climbed the steps. They sheltered in a little garden beneath one of the tenements, still shocked by their underground encounter.

  ‘Of course I would have protected you,’ the Castle Cat declared. He was giving himself a thorough wash.

  ‘Of course you would,’ said the Tattoo Fox.

  ‘Can we go home now?’ asked one of the kits in a small voice. But the adventure wasn’t over yet.

  As they turned a corner they heard raised voices. Two boys were pushing and shoving at each other, their words taunting and harsh. ‘I dare you,’ the bigger of the two boys said.

  ‘You do it!’ the smaller boy retorted.

  The argument must have been going on for a while.

  ‘You’re afraid, aren’t you?’ The bigger boy sneered. ‘You’re a coward!’

  ‘No I’m not!’ replied the smaller boy.

  ‘I’ll do it myself then, ‘fraidy cat’,’ said the bigger boy.

  The animals watched him pull a box of matches out of his pocket, strike one and set light to a piece of paper. As it flared up he pushed it down through a drain in the paving stones with his foot. ‘There!’ After a few moments tiny flames began to lick their way out of the drain. With every second that passed they grew fiercer.

  ‘Better put it out before it gets any worse,’ said the bigger boy. He didn’t sound quite as pleased with himself now. The flames were getting bigger.

  ‘How?’ the smaller boy said. ‘We haven’t got any water.’

  ‘Run! Let’s leave it. No-one saw us. They won’t know it was us…’

  But the foxes and the cat had seen them, and they acted fast. While the Castle Cat ran for help, the foxes spread out and backed the boys into a corner of the close.

  ‘Get away,’ the boys shouted. They flapped their hands, but the four foxes stood their ground, growling menacingly.

  ‘Help is on its way!’ said the cat, reappearing suddenly. The flames were leaping higher and higher out of the drain now. Smoke billowed into the air. Above them people opened windows to see what was happening.

  Down the close ran two policewomen, calling for the fire brigade on their radios. The boys cowered against the wall.

  In a matter of minutes a team of firemen arrived, rolling their hose down the passageway. Soon they had the blaze under control. The only damage was some scorching on the stonework.

  ‘We were lucky to catch that one in time,’ said one of the firemen. ‘If it had got away it could have been the Great Fire of Edinburgh. I’m not joking. Thanks for being so alert.’

  ‘It wasn’t really us,’ said one of the policewomen, blushing a little. She pointed at the Castle Cat. ‘He wouldn’t leave us alone until we followed him down the close and – you will not believe this! – it was the foxes who detained the fire-raisers.’

  The fireman raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I know!’ said the policewoman, laughing. ‘It sounds crazy, but it’s true. Perhaps it’s a new emergency service!’ She turned and pointed up the passageway. ‘Right, you two – into the van before you cause any more trouble. We’ll give your parents a call and then we’ll have a nice long chat.’ The boys sloped off, thoroughly dejected. The policewoman paused and turned to take a last look at the foxes and the cat. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. And she meant it.

  Later that evening, the foxes watched the festivities on Calton Hill from their den. It was a long way off, but they were quite close enough.

  ‘Welcome to the summer,’ said the Tattoo Fox.

  It had been a long day.

  9

  Underground Hide and Seek

  The kits go up the hill to play

  And find a secret passageway

  ‘Shall I show you a great place to play Hide and Seek?’ asked the cat one sunny morning, as the kits played in the courtyard outside the National War Museum.

  ‘Yes, please,’ replied the kits. ‘Where?’

  ‘Come, I will show you my special route to the Castle Vaults.’

  ‘Will there be any rude rats there?’ asked the dog kit.

  ‘Of course not,’ said the cat briskly. ‘I make it my business to keep that sort of riff-raff away.’ With the kits following he squeezed through a grill. ‘The Vaults were built hundreds of year ago. They give Crown Square and the other castle buildings a strong foundation,’ he explained, his voice echoing in the gloom.

  The kits began exploring. ‘What are those?’ asked one. ‘They look like sacks hanging up to dry.’

  ‘Well spotted,’ said the cat. ‘These vaults were prisons in the old days, and those are hammocks where the
prisoners slept. There were Frenchmen and Americans, Spanish, Germans, Italians, Dutch, Danish, Irish and even an Icelander or two. Fights often broke out – ‘my country’s better than yours’ sort of thing – but when they were not squabbling, they made things out of wood and bedstraw and meat bones and sold them to visitors. Some of the craftier ones even tried to forge banknotes.’

  ‘I would not like to be a prisoner down here,’ said the smaller kit.

  ‘Indeed,’ agreed the cat. ‘But it’s the perfect place for Hide and Seek these days. We’ll count to fifty – off you go!’

  The kit dashed out of sight and once they were ready the cat and the dog kit started to search through all the rooms, under beds, inside hammocks and behind cupboards – but there was no sign of her.

  After a while the Castle Cat became slightly alarmed but tried not show it. The dog kit happily went on looking for his sister. Finally the cat called, ‘Time to go! The Castle opens to visitors in a few minutes!’ He waited.

  There was an eerie silence. The cat’s tail twitched. ‘We’ll have to leave her for now,’ he said tersely. ‘I’ll take you back to your den, then return to find your naughty sister.’ But as the cat and the kit were heading towards the grill they heard a scratching sound and turned to see the missing kit skipping towards them covered in dirt and cobwebs.

  ‘Where have you been?’ asked the cat.

  ‘I found a tunnel which goes on for miles and miles,’ she said, her eyes shining. ‘When I came to a place where a lot of rubble had fallen in I thought I should come back.’

  The cat narrowed his eyes. ‘A tunnel?’ he said. ‘One of the stewards says there’s a tunnel leading all the way from Edinburgh Castle down to the Queen’s Palace at Holyrood. I wonder whether that’s the one.’

  ‘Shall we go back and see?’ asked the kit.

  ‘No,’ replied the cat firmly. ‘Not with visitors about.’

  Once they were out in the fresh air, the dog kit laughed at his sister. ‘You look like a ghost covered in all that white dust. You should go back and scare people!’

  ‘That is quite enough silliness for today,’ said the cat, hurrying them round the back of the barracks towards the tunnel. As they emerged onto the Esplanade a large coach drove up, full of visitors. They caught sight of the animals and started to take photographs and for once the cat was reluctant to pose. He was in a hurry to return the kits safely to their parents. But as they slipped through the railings he heard the tour leader calling, ‘This way! The Assembly Halls are on The Mound. That’s where we’ll see Prince Edward!’

  What was going on? Why were tourists heading away from the Castle? And Prince Edward was a member of the Royal Family. Why on earth did the Castle Cat know nothing of his arrival? There was no time to lose. He hurried the kits away.

  The Tattoo Fox scolded the little kit for getting so dirty and causing such worry. ‘What have I said about getting lost?’ she reminded her.

  ‘Well, to be fair, getting lost is the point of Hide and Seek,’ the cat mentioned.

  ‘I found a secret tunnel,’ said the kit. ‘I’ll show it to you one day,’ she offered.

  The Tattoo Fox couldn’t help being proud of her kits. They were growing up fast. ‘Thank you for looking after them,’ she said to the cat. ‘You look as if you’re in a hurry.’

  ‘I am,’ he replied. ‘There is something going on at the Assembly Halls that I absolutely must investigate. It involves a member of the Royal Family.’

  ‘Can I come too?’ asked the Tattoo Fox.

  ‘I’ll look after the kits,’ offered the dog fox, happy to be left behind. He wasn’t a big fan of the Royal Family. He’d heard ugly rumours about their attitude to foxes.

  The cat and the fox ran along Ramsay Garden towards the Mound until they reached a patch of grass. Two crows were sitting squawking to each other. They shuffled a little nervously at first, but when it was clear this wasn’t a hunting expedition, the four of them began chatting.

  ‘Today is the start of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland,’ explained one of the crows. ‘What a thrill! We come every year. Some of the most colourful people in the country will be parading.’

  ‘Who is that man carrying the big sword and who are all those people following him?’ asked the fox, intrigued.

  ‘That is the ceremonial sword of this great city,’ said the cat quickly. He didn’t want the crows to think he knew nothing. ‘It was given to the city by King Charles the First and it is being carried by one of the City Officers. Behind him, wearing those heavy gold chains, are all the Lord and Lady Provosts and Conveners of the Councils from all over Scotland. The men and women with them are the chief officials of each council.’

  They watched as the dignitaries walked up the long stairway to the Assembly Hall.

  ‘Now come the heads of the Navy, the Army and the Air Force in Scotland. They’re wearing their best uniforms,’ the cat continued.

  ‘And here come our favourites,’ said the crows, stamping from foot to foot with excitement. ‘What a thrill!’

  The fox had never seen anything like it. ‘Who are those people in their gloriously coloured coats?’

  Before the crows had time to explain, the cat did. ‘That is the Lord Lyon. He’s in charge of all of the most important state ceremonies in Scotland and he is not wearing a coat,’ he said with pompous precision. ‘He is wearing a tabard.’

  ‘He doesn’t look like a lion to me,’ the fox observed.

  ‘It’s Lyon with a ‘y’ not an ‘i’,’ said the cat sharply, ‘and he is the most important Herald in the country. The others wearing tabards are all heralds.’

  ‘We love a bit of tradition,’ chirruped one of the crows. ‘There’s The Lord High Constable, the Master of the Royal Household, the Bearer of the Royal Banner, the Bearer of the National Flag and the Purse Bearer.’

  The cat blinked. These crows certainly knew a thing or too. A beautifully polished car with no number-plates drew up and Prince Edward, the Earl of Wessex, climbed out and waved to the crowds. As he climbed the steps the State Trumpeters blew a welcoming fanfare.

  ‘What a thrill!’ The crows bounced and flapped with excitement.

  ‘Prince Edward must be The Lord High Commissioner this year,’ announced the cat. ‘That means he’s the Queen’s representative at the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland.’

  ‘So the Queen isn’t coming?’ The fox was a little disappointed.

  ‘No – but she’ll be visiting in July,’ squawked the crows.

  ‘I look forward to that,’ said the fox. And before she and the cat set off back towards the castle she invited the crows to her Tattoo Party.

  ‘We’d love to come! What a thrill!’

  10

  Another Castle, Another Time

  The fox thinks she will watch a show

  And sees a Queen from long ago

  The Tattoo Fox loved listening to the stories the tour guides told. She had learnt about Scotland’s history from them – and the Castle Cat, of course.

  She often heard them mention Craigmillar Castle, and one evening the Castle Cat explained how to get there. ‘I’d come with you,’ he said. ‘But they’re delivering the stands for the Tattoo in the next few days. Somebody needs to be here to keep an eye on things.’ He was rather grumpy because he had discovered there were to be pop concerts at the Castle again that July. He was not a fan of pop concerts. The Tattoo Fox rather enjoyed them – and especially the snacks the audience left behind.

  The following morning the Tattoo Fox set off. The kits would be busy doing pouncing practice with their father for the rest of the day. She skirted round the east side of Arthur’s Seat to avoid the runners puffing through the park. By the time she had reached the far side of the hill she was a little out of breath and paused for a drink at Dunsapie Loch, disturbing some swans who angrily chased her away. She made a dash for Prestonfield Golf Course and from there she darted across a wide road and through a sports ground
. Soon she was looking up at the ruins of Craigmillar Castle.

  It was full of people. Some of them were putting on strange clothes. One lady was wearing a long black dress with a fine lace ruff around her throat. She looked most unusual.

  ‘Hello, can I help?’

  The fox turned to find a large hare regarding her from a distance. His voice was friendly but he was taking no chances. ‘You gave me quite a fright,’ the fox said. ‘I was just wondering what was going on.’

  ‘You do not live here, then,’ said the hare.

  ‘No,’ replied the fox. She explained that she lived beneath Edinburgh Castle.

  ‘This is a different kind of castle,’ said the hare. ‘Let me tell you about it.’

  The fox and the hare circled the castle, keeping out of sight. The hare pointed out the Tower House. ‘It’s four storeys high,’ he explained. ‘There is a hall, and a kitchen, and guard rooms and bedrooms. Lots of little nooks and crannies to explore when there is nobody around,’ he added.

  ‘My kits would love it here,’ said the fox. ‘But what are these people doing?’ More and more of them were changing into strange clothes.

  ‘They are actors and they are going to tell a story about one of the most famous visitors to Craigmillar Castle,’ the hare replied.

  ‘I love stories, especially stories from history,’ said the fox.

  ‘This story happened hundreds of years ago, when Craigmillar Castle was much smaller. Famous people used to come here to escape prying eyes in the city,’ the hare said. ‘People were very suspicious of each other. The royal household was particularly unhappy. The lady in the black dress is playing the part of Mary, Queen of Scots. She came here to get away from her husband, Lord Darnley.’

  In the West Garden the actors were preparing to perform in the bright sunshine. The hare and the fox found a safe place from which to watch. Before long, the fox was lost in the story. She had never seen anything like it.

  As the afternoon went on, the castle seemed to change. It looked less crumbly, and the gardens were now neatly planted with flowers. The beautiful Queen looked sad as she walked with her host, Sir Simon Preston. She was speaking with a French accent, telling him how nervous and lonely she was. ‘I can trust nobody. I miss David so much. He was loyal, such a good friend,’ she said.