The Londum Omnibus Volume One (The Londum Series Book 4)

by Tony Rattigan

  ‘No, no, quite the opposite,’ Adele hastened to put her straight. ‘I am here to protect them and make sure they succeed in their mission. One of them is my … my man and I have come to see that no harm comes to him.’

  As they talked Adele noticed a bird flying around above them. The bird circled warily around the area where Adele, Zelda and Won-Lungh sat talking. Eventually it landed on the ground a short distance away and quite brazenly, without any sign of fear, walked over to them.

  ‘Afternoon,’ said Zelda, puffing on her pipe.

  ‘Wraaak!’ said the bird.

  Adele thought she would join in on the joke. ‘Good afternoon Mr. Crow, she said politely.

  ‘Wraaak! I’m a Raven ... not a crow!’ said the bird indignantly. ‘How dare you call me a crow? I am much larger and more intelligent than my Corvid cousins, the common crows,’ he concluded pompously.

  Adele sat there stunned. ‘What did you say? Did you just speak?’ She looked to Zelda for help.

  Zelda said, ‘This is my familiar, his name is Fell.’

  ‘Crows … Pah!’ said Fell. ‘They are mere stealers of corn, the pestilence of farmers, whereas we Ravens are mystical creatures of the night,’ he swept his wing in front of his face like a cloak, his eyes peering dramatically over the top, ‘… messengers of the Gods … harbingers of Doom.’ He lowered his wing, ‘All together a completely different thing,’ he ended matter-of-factly.

  Fell spread his wings forward until they touched the floor and bowed his head gracefully. While he was bent forward, Zelda silently mouthed the word “crow” to Adele while pointing at Fell with her pipe.

  Fell straightened up and said to Adele, ‘Greetings Mistress Witch, I am indeed Fell, Raven and familiar to the mighty Witch Zelda!’

  Adele, who could quite clearly see that despite his pretensions he was a crow, replied, ‘Thank you for your kind welcome Mr. Cr ... er … Mr. Rav ... er Fell.’

  The crow bowed to Adele again and hopped onto Zelda’s knee. ‘Who’s the gorilla in the suit?’ he muttered, looking as if he was trying to speak out of the side of his beak.

  ‘Quiet,’ ordered Zelda gently. ‘Show some manners.’

  ‘Wraaak,’ replied Fell. ‘Is he her familiar? He looks like he could be.’

  ‘Quiet,’ Zelda commanded, ‘He’ll hear you.’

  Fell leaned forward and peered at Won Lungh. ‘Should we throw him some raw meat, d’ya think?’

  ‘Shut up bird!’ Zelda fluttered her skirt, forcing Fell to hop down to the ground. He wandered around the campfire picking at the ground.

  ‘Harbinger of doom?’ said Zelda. ‘You’ll be harbinger of lunch if you’re not careful. I’ve warned you before … if you’re not civil to my guests, you’ll end up in my cooking pot.

  ‘You’ll have to excuse Fell,’ apologised Zelda. ‘He has ideas above his station. He thinks that being the familiar of the neighbourhood witch accords him certain privileges. Such as speaking his mind.’

  ‘Forgive me Mistress Witch,’ he bowed to Adele. ‘I meant no insult to your …’ he glanced at Won Lungh, ‘er … friend.’

  ***

  Adele and Zelda spoke for the rest of the afternoon as Adele slowly adjusted to the idea that it was okay to be a witch and nothing to be ashamed of. Furthermore, she should flex her powers and explore them fully. This was a new idea for her and it would take her some time to get her head around it.

  At one point Zelda began to mix some liquid in a small cauldron. ‘One of the local farmers has a sick cow I must attend to later. I’m just mixing up a little potion to cure it.’ She got a large, leather-bound book from her caravan and after consulting it, added various herbs to the mixture.

  ‘What is that?’ asked Adele, indicating the book.

  ‘This? This is my Book of Shadows, didn’t your Mother have one?’

  ‘I er … I don’t know, what is it?’

  ‘Every witch worth her salt has her own book. It contains everything she has learned, spells, potions, properties of various herbs, everything she will find useful. Traditionally it is known amongst witches as the Book of Shadows. Your mother would probably have had her own, do you think that man Twist took it?’

  ‘Quist not Twist. No I don’t think he took it and I’ve been through her possessions and didn’t find it. Maybe she hid it away so he couldn’t use it. In which case I guess it is lost forever.’

  Zelda looked at Adele for a moment, then she spoke, ‘It will be dark soon; you’d best be heading back into town. I’ll send some of my men along with you for safety.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t want to be any trouble, I’m sure Won Lungh and I will be fine by ourselves. He can take care of most things.’

  ‘Your pet ape may be fearsome but there are things in the woods that are far more dangerous than him. I’ll send some men with you; if they see you with them then they’ll know you are under my protection. Nothing would dare harm you then because they know they would have to answer to me. Tomorrow you can return. Come in the daylight and stay on the path.’

  ‘Very well then, thank you, it’s very kind of you,’ replied Adele.

  Zelda walked over to the general camp and returned a few moments later accompanied by a tall, mature man with greying hair and moustache.

  ‘This is Charro, leader of the tribe,’ she introduced him. ‘This is my … friend, Witch Adele. Charro, I want you to send a cart to take my friends back to Magdeburg. Send a couple of your men with them for protection.’

  ‘I will arrange it,’ said Charro.

  ***

  Cobb and Jim finished their evening meal in their hotel. ‘What do you want to do this evening?’ asked Cobb.

  ‘Let’s go out for a drink. There’s that place I told you about that I want to try, Die Schwartze Pumpernickel’ replied Jim.

  They went back to their rooms and got their hats and coats. Jim led the way through the cold winter’s night, heading towards the outskirts of the town. Finally, as the last lights of the township were fading behind them, they reached a small, rundown building. Hanging outside was a large sign,

  Die Schwartze Pumpernickel

  ‘What does that mean?’ asked Cobb.

  ‘It means we’re here,’ replied Jim.

  They entered the establishment. It was a dingy bar room, dimly lit by the oil lamps and the light from the large fireplace. The ten or so occupants stared at Cobb and Jim as they went to the bar then they went back to their conversations.

  Jim stood at the bar and asked Cobb, ‘What do you want to drink?’

  Cobb looked at the grubby bar and the state of the glasses behind it. ‘Something that comes in a sealed bottle, please.’

  ‘Good idea. Two bottles of beer please, barman.’

  The surly looking barman ambled down from the other end of the bar where he had been talking to one of his customers. ‘You are foreigners?’ He spoke in Albion.

  ‘Good Gods no, we’re British!’ replied Jim.

  ‘We don’t get many foreigners in here,’ said the barman.

  ‘I can’t imagine why not,’ said Cobb, looking around the room. ‘After all it’s such a charming little place you have here and you’re all so welcoming,’ he said with a dirty look at Jim. ‘Tourist guide, my arse,’ he muttered under his breath.

  The barman gave Cobb a dirty look and put two unopened bottles of beer on the table. He popped the tops off with a bottle opener and pushed them towards Cobb and Jim. They each took a bottle and settled themselves onto stools.

  They sat there chatting while they drank their bottles of beer. When they had finished Jim waved over the barman and ordered two more. The barman opened the bottles and placed them in front of Cobb and Jim.

  ‘I’m looking for a friend of mine, Hans Free, I understand he comes in here.’

  The barman wiped the bar with a cloth, which only had the effect of transferring more dirt to the bar. ‘Don’t know anyone called Free.’

  ‘So he doesn’t come in here?’ asked Jim.


  ‘Maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t. He’s not one of my regulars.’

  ‘Oh. Sorry, my mistake,’ replied Jim.

  The barman wandered back to the end of the bar, Jim and Cobb discreetly kept an eye on him. He wiped the bar over again with the dirty cloth. He rubbed the cloth backwards and forwards but it didn’t make the bar any cleaner, in fact all he was doing was polishing the dirt.

  ‘Who’s Hans Free?’ asked Cobb.

  Jim didn’t answer at first; he was watching the barman out of the corner of his eye. He was looking out into the room to one of the customers. He nodded to him and then discreetly nodded towards Cobb and Jim.

  ‘Oh Hans is just a man that someone said I should say hello to,’ Jim finally answered.

  ‘You’re being very mysterious. What’s goin-’ Cobb stopped short as one of the locals stepped up to the bar and spoke to him. He was a big ugly brute and as he spoke to him in Pils-Holstein, Cobb couldn’t understand a word he was saying. The man prodded Cobb with a thick finger and repeated himself.

  ‘Yes, I know you’re talking to me,’ explained Cobb a little curtly, as he didn’t like being prodded by a complete stranger, ‘but you’re speaking in Pils-Holstein and I am listening in Albion, so I don’t understand what you’re saying.’ He turned to Jim, ‘What did he say?’

  Jim wrinkled his brow, ‘I think he said you’re wearing his shoes. No, wait … that can’t be right.’

  ‘What? I thought you spoke this language.’

  ‘Well not exactly. I speak Deutschen, which is very similar to Pils-Holstein but he’s speaking some local dialect and it’s very difficult to understand,’ explained Jim.

  The barman came to their assistance. ‘That is Jurgen and he is saying that you,’ he pointed to Cobb, ‘are sitting on his stool.’

  ‘Okay, no problem,’ said Cobb, standing up and moving to the stool on the other side of Jim. Jurgen moved up to Jim and spoke to him this time.

  Cobb and Jim looked expectantly at the barman. ‘He says that you,’ he pointed at Jim, ‘are sitting on his stool.’

  ‘Maybe it’s time we left, Jim,’ said Cobb.

  ‘I didn’t think that you’d walk away from a bully.’

  ‘No, but we can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves. The wrong sort of people might start asking questions about us,’ replied Cobb.

  Jurgen prodded Jim and repeated his demand. ‘Now just a minute, I’m talking to my friend,’ snapped Jim angrily. Jurgen responded with a flood of what sounded like curses.

  Jim looked at Cobb. ‘I understood that!’

  ‘I think I did too.’

  Jim turned back to Jurgen and pointed at a stain on the bar. ‘What is that?’

  ‘Uhh?’ said Jurgen.

  ‘I said, what is that?’ then switching to Deutschen, ‘Was ist das?’ jabbing his finger angrily at the stain.

  Puzzled, Jurgen bent over curiously to look more closely at the stain, to see what exactly it was about it that was getting the foreigner so agitated. Jim grabbed Jurgen’s shirtfront and WHAM! smashed his face into the counter. Jurgen stood upright and, head lolling, stared dazed into Jim’s face. WHAM! His head hit the counter again and this time he slid to the floor. Jim stood up and took his overcoat off, Cobb did the same.

  They turned and faced the room; all the occupants had risen and were facing them in support of Jurgen. From nowhere a glass flew over the crowd and smashed against the bar, next to Jim. He picked up one of the stools in both hands and smashed it on the bar, leaving him holding two of the legs, one of which he handed to Cobb.

  ‘YOU WANNA GET CRAZY? COME ON … LET’S GET CRAZY!!’ Jim shouted at them.

  Cobb said to him, ‘Jim … there are two of us and ten of them.’

  With a grin, Jim replied, ‘I know … but they’ll just have to take their chances, won’t they?’ With a roar he leapt into the crowd, swinging the stool leg. Cobb shrugged and followed him.

  ***

  Half an hour later there was just six of the combatants left upright. Cobb and Jim and four of the customers were sitting in front of the fire, arms round each other’s shoulders, drunkenly singing a Pils-Holstein hunting song. Neither Jim nor Cobb knew the words so they just made the appropriate noises loudly but it didn’t matter; they were all having a splendid time.

  Cobb and Jim had laid into the crowd and had given as good as they got, better in fact. These local hunters and farm boys thought they were tough but they had never had to take care of themselves in the East End of Londum on a Saturday night, as both Cobb and Jim had had to. It was only a short while before six of them were laid out cold.

  There was a brief pause in the fighting, Cobb and Jim facing the other four, then Jim had gone to the bar and demanded a bottle of Schnapps. He had taken a big swig and then handed the bottle to one of the locals. He had taken a drink and then handed it to Cobb who had drank and then passed it on to the rest of the locals.

  This act had broken the tension and Jim ordered beers all round. Then they had got down to some serious drinking while the barman went around picking up tables and unconscious locals.

  The rest of the evening progressed with much drinking of beer and Schnapps and singing songs. During the evening the rest of the locals had come round and joined in the drinking. Even Jurgen had awoken and sat there for the rest of the night, beer in hand, with a dazed expression on his face.

  By the end of the night they had all reached that drunken state where a total stranger can become your biggest friend, ever. When it was time to go, the customers of the bar were all shaking hands with Cobb and Jim, hugging them and insisting that they come again.

  Jim went over to the barman and gave him a wad of cash to pay for all the drinks and the damage. ‘Hans?’ he asked him.

  ‘You come back day after tomorrow, maybe he’ll be here,’ the barman replied.

  Amid protestations of undying friendship, Cobb and Jim made their way out into the cold night, promising to return. They walked down the road, heading back into the town.

  Cobb said, ‘You started that fight deliberately, didn’t you?’

  ‘Of course I did. If Jurgen hadn’t come over I’d have done something else to cause trouble. These are simple mountain folk, they don’t trust strangers. So you have to show them that you are just like them and the quickest way to do that is with a few drinks and a scrap. Everyone understands that language.’

  ‘So who is Hans Free and why do we want to see him?’

  ‘That, we may find out the day after tomorrow, if we’re lucky,’ replied Jim.

  Cobb looked at Jim, even more convinced that Jim was running some scheme of his own. The thing was, when it came down to it, could he count on Jim or would Cobb be left out there on his own?

  ***

  Next day, Adele and Zelda were in the gypsy camp when Fell flew down to land besides them.

  ‘You are usually out on your rounds at this time of day. What brings you back so early,’ Zelda asked him.

  ‘I saw The One With The White Paw heading this way so I thought I’d let you know,’ Fell replied.

  ‘The One With The White Paw?’ asked Adele.

  ‘You’ll see,’ said Zelda, declining to explain any further.

  Zelda busied herself making some tea and as they sat down to drink it Adele’s attention was caught by a sound in the brush to the side of them. A wolf had appeared silently from the surrounding foliage and was staring at them. It was a grey wolf, with one completely white, right front paw.

  Adele gasped and dropped her cup, Won Lungh started to rise, reaching under the back of his jacket for a weapon. The wolf, startled by their sudden movement, growled threateningly at Adele.

  Adele was about to run and hide behind Won Lungh when she noticed that Zelda was just sitting there, calmly puffing on her pipe, watching her.

  Adele held her hand out, palm facing him, to Won Lungh, indicating he should wait before reacting. So, this is a test is it? she thought. Okay, I’ll play. She stared a
t the wolf and began reaching out, into its mind. At first nothing happened and then the wolf fell silent and his tail began to wag.

  As Zelda was testing her, Adele thought she’d show off a bit. She pushed a bit harder and the wolf lowered himself to the ground and crawled towards her on his belly. Adele sniggered as he rested his jaw on her booted foot, anxious to be petted. Adele humoured him and reaching down scratched him on the top of his head, between his ears. ‘There’s a good boy,’ she said.

  ‘Very good, very good. Allow me to introduce you,’ said Zelda, impressed. ‘This is “The One With The White Paw”. The pack gets together and chooses a name for a newborn wolf but they’re not terribly imaginative, you see. I call him “White Paw” for short.’ She called to him in some language that Adele didn’t recognise and he reluctantly left Adele’s feet and went to her.

  White Paw began talking to Zelda in the same language. Adele listened, fascinated. It wasn’t words as such they were speaking to each other; it was more a collection of growls, rumblings in the throat, punctuated by the occasional sharp bark. White Paw did most of the talking, being interrupted by Zelda with what looked like the occasional question.

  Finally they finished talking and White Paw came and stood by Adele to be petted again. After a few moments though Zelda said a few words to him and with great reluctance and one final look at Adele, he padded away into the forest.

  ‘I’m sorry but he makes my people nervous when he is around,’ said Zelda. ‘He’s friendly enough but as my people say, “A wolf’s smile is full of teeth”.’

  ‘What were you talking about?’

  ‘White Paw was telling me that there are strangers around in the woods today.’

  ‘Who?’