Free The Witch of Clatteringshaws by Joan Aiken Page A

would think you were her dear daughter.”
    “Croopus.” Dido thought about this for several minutes.“So that’s who the dead man’s face reminded me of. He’d done it to himself. But not well enough. And that’s why he had all those pictures of King Dick on the walls of his bedroom.…”
    “Angus was a face smith.”
    Dido jumped up. “I better go back—or Mrs. M will give me what for and ask where I’ve been—”
    “Listen! We must meet again. I want to talk to you about—something. And the boy who was with you in the train. But Mrs. McClan mustn’t know. Can you come out tonight?”
    “Where to?”
    “Across the loch. You can walk over the rail bridge. I live in a hut on the other side. In the coach park.”
    “But what about those creatures—Hobyahs?” Dido was doubtful.
    “Oh, I can frighten them off. They won’t come when I’m there.”
    “Well—I’ll see. Can’t promise. And we have to keep an eye on young Fred.”
    “Yes! You must certainly keep an eye on him!”
    Dido thought about Fred’s black eye and cut cheek. Had phizectomy been practiced on him?
    “And what about the monster?” she said.
    “Tatzen? Oh, he’s my friend.”
    “Who are you, then? Not just the social worker? You said your name was Aldith Somebody—”
    “That was in the train. I was keeping an eye on those two men. They are up to no good. They have a plot to put a false king on the throne. My name is Malise. I’m theDistrict Witch of Clatteringshaws. Listen—there is something I want you to bring me—to make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.…”
    “Malise? Father Sam’s cousin? Oh, now I begin to twig.…”

EIGHT
    They were assembling in King’s Wrath station for the trip to the north. Father Sam had come to see them off and give them his blessing.
    “Who are the Wends, exactly?” said Simon. “And why should they invade us?”
    “Oh, they are a warlike tribe,” said Father Sam vaguely. “They live on cheese and plum brandy. Every now and then they like to fight somebody. It’s such a pity they don’t play football.”
    “Why can’t they fight the Picts? Picts like to fight too.”
    “Well, suggest it to them.… While you are in Caledonia,” said Father Sam, “be sure you get in touch with Dido and check the claim of this Aelfric who says he is descended from Canute.”
    “Yes. If I can find Dido. Who was Canute, anyway?”
    “He was the son of Sweyn the Dane, and he was King of half England.”
    “Who had the other half?”
    “A fellow called Edmund Ironside. Yes, you could take a lesson from him—from them—”
    “About what?”
    “Be sure to look up my cousin Malise—the Witch of Clatteringshaws.”
    “Why?” said Simon, beginning to look harassed.
    “She’s my cousin too,” put in Rodney Firebrace. And the parrot on his shoulder said, “Ha ha ha! Be sure to call the bear cousin till you are safe across the bridge. Third hand calls the tune.”
    “Oh, be quiet, Wiggonholt.”
    “As a matter of fact,” said Father Sam, “I believe the Wendish king is called Albert the Bear. That is, if they still have the same king they had two years ago.”
    “How is it that you both have the same cousin?”
    “We all had the same grandfather. Sir Jonathan Firebrace. He had three sons, and we are the children of those sons. Malise and I went to divinity school together. She became a witch, I became a friar. Rodney went to high school and became a geologist and fell off a mountain and became a professional jester.”
    “Why?”
    “Effect of brain damage,” said Firebrace. “I hit my head on a rock when I fell off that hillside; result is, I’m clairvoyant. I can foretell the future. Not always, but sometimes. It’s a useful quality in a king’s adviser.”
    “So who will win this battle?”
    “Odds are even. It’s complicated.”
    “Here’s a book to read on the train.” Father Sam handed Simon a little old volume that looked as if it had been well used.