Chapter One - Deep Ford Creek
The next morning the sun rose bringing a new summer’s day, but one full of trepidation for Roger and Mary and, also of many sad farewells to those not going with them.
It took some while for them both to hug, handshake, or bow to all those gathered there, as they departed the Camp at the Green Woods and followed the Green Witch. Roger had particularly found it hard saying goodbye to Captain Caprinus and the Hircumen, especially Yllib and Taog. Without their rope and archery skills, he well knew they’d never have survived crossing the magma chamber under the Volcano, or escaped from the dastardly Black Imp, Mr. Shlik and his angry and deluded Father, Mr Briggs. Mary had become a keen favourite of the abundant Squirrel family, and it took her quite a while to free herself from all the tiny hugs and kisses, especially from all the youngsters. But between her and the very patient Mrs. Scritty Scrat, she was at last able to extricate herself from them and so join the Green Witch, Grannie Maddam, Nimp the Night Imp and Roger with Regor in his rucksack, on the next stage of their perilous journey into the very heart of the Great Forest of Lundun.
Mary was carrying the handbag. Mary and Grannie Maddam had made an amicable arrangement between them, that from now on they would both share in the carrying of the magickal handbag. Grannie had also promised her that she would help her get her own magickal handbag one day, and meanwhile, she’d teach her more about the witching arts, as soon as time and circumstance allowed, that was. For starters, she told Mary to start coming up with lots of bright ideas to put into her handbag when she got it.
Right now, though, they had to get to the Court of the Frog King, Gorfgib, deep within the dank and marshy depths of the Deep Ford Creek; and as quickly and quietly as they possibly could.
As they walked along Mary took the chance to speak to her Gran and ask her more about her now being a Witch and what that meant and what to expect. “Do all Witches have the same powers, Gran? I mean, is the magick there already an’ we just has to learn how to use it; or is it something else, like something personal to each Witch?”
“That’s a good question, dearie,” Grannie Maddam answered.” Truth is, it’s a bit o’ both I’d say. But, you’ll find it’s the magick personal to each witch that really counts fer the most!”
Mary wasn’t quite sure what she meant and carried on a while in silence.
“Well it’s like this, Mary,” Grannie said at last, “yer’ll find that there’s lots o’ magick, or so-called magick, that’s just yer meat an’ potatoes ter any Witch. Things like herbs an’ potions an’ yer good ol’ fashioned remedies of nature an’ such. There’s lots o’ things yer can learn from Nature, me girl; an’ what you know ter what another don’t, can easily be taken fer magick!”
“Oh, I see. Then I’ll have my own personal magick as well then; besides common magick!” Mary exclaimed with excitement.
“Yes, dear, each Witch has her own style and talent of Magick,” Grannie continued “We’ll look inter yours, dear, don’t yer worry’s none. But I think it’s along me own lines of style though; but I think you’ve got more potential than any Witch gone before, other than the Old Witch that is, an’ she’s been gone an’ disappeared for forever and a day!”
“What do you mean, Gran? Can yer tell me what you reckon my personal magick is?”
“Well I thinks, dear, that what you has that no other Witch has, is the ability to conjure what yer wants to create just from yer thoughts and yer memories. Do yer understand me?”
“Er, yeah, I think so, Gran, it’s like what I did for the Gas masks an’ then when I ‘ad to make you shrink an’ put you in the handbag. I had ter see an’ picture those things first.”
“Yes, Mary. What yer pictures in yer mind, yer can make appear in the physical universe! Whereas wiv me, dear, I ‘as to ‘ave an actual object ter work from. I has ter conjure from objects that already exist, I can then use them as a sort of ‘physical metaphor’ for what I wants ter create. That’s why I has lots o’ various objects I use an’ pre-prepare an’ keep in me magickal Handbag. But wivs you you can come up with the ideas all on your own right from the handbag.”
“Oh right. And that’s why to anyone else the handbag seems empty. They're just what you mock up an’ put there as ideas from other things. I do that but with what I can imagine, I see!”
“That’s right me love. An yer’ll need ter practice, learn ter control it an’ sees juss how far you can goes wiv it. But be patient, I’ll be with you and I’ll help yous along the witching way, ok dear?”
Mary smiled and warmly clasped her Gran’s hand. “Thanks Gran,” she smiled up at her. “I’m so happy we’re together again. An’ I promise I’ll be a good student.”
They had now reached the border of the Green Witch’s realm.
“I must leave you here now. The protection of our southern borders must be maintained.” She then pointed in the direction they needed to take. “Just keep going that way and you’ll be at the Deep Ford Creek within the hour. Now remember, Gorfgib knows how to get you across the River Tymes. You must see him as soon as you can and in no circumstances try and swim across yourselves. The waters are deadly. They are constantly patrolled by the Cutting Sharks and are full of deadly Time-pools. King Gorfgib will advise you more fully on these matters. You can trust him … and of course yourselves. Be your own best friend. Now go and fare well.”
With that she quickly kissed Gran and then Mary on the cheek, gave Roger and Nimp a quick, firm handshake and then turned back towards her wood and was on her way. They were now fully on their own, with only each other, and their courage, to rely on.
It was barely mid-morning when they arrived at the beginning of the Deep Ford Creek. The open terrain had dipped downwards and they now found themselves winding their way down the side of a steep valley. At the bottom lay the Deep Ford Creek. This was in fact a short inlet from the River Tymes itself, that cut its way inland for barely a mile and then became the Ravensburn River, and in turn, from the Ravensburn, came Roger and Mary’s very own River Quaggy.
Roger was beginning to feel hot and sweaty as the sun rose in the sky. And now there seemed to be clouds of flies and midges all about them as they reached the bottom. There were great forests of reeds choking the waters of the Creek. These were humming with all kinds of insect wildlife.
Roger could see many, large and beautiful dragonflies, that he’d just love to be able to study. The place was teeming with butterflies, beetles, bees and wasps, he noted, as they trudged along in a line, above the creek’s muddy bank.
Soon they found that they had to climb down the bank itself in order to continue along the course of the creek. Somewhere, half way along it, the Green Witch had told them, lay the Palace of King Gorfgib. She had described this as a vast series of Lily-pads at the edge of the creek itself, underneath a complex of fungal terraces; platforms that projected out from the steep bank there.
“You can’t miss it when you see it!” she’d told them.
They were all busy searching and squinting through the fetid heat of the place and slapping away the buzzing flies. “By Darwin’s Dimples, we must be getting close by now!” Roger muttered.
Not one of them noticed the armed stalkers, silently closing in behind them, not even Regor; mainly because he’d taken the opportunity to have another quick nap.
All at once, they found themselves surrounded by a large group of angry-looking big green frogs. Each frog wore a brown leather jerkin and held a short barb-headed spear, pointed towards them. They were enormous frogs, each standing nearly as tall as Roger and Mary. Their leader, an even larger frog, who wore a red badge on his tunic in the shape of a crown, now stepped forward.
“What are you Humdrums doing blundering about in my kingdom? Speak the truth or you will quickly find yourselves being used as fish bait. I’m in charge now ‒ so croak up!”
This was not the greeting they were expecting at all. Roger quickly stepped forward and bowed.
“Pardon us please, Sir,” he politely replied, “but we’re seeking for the Frog King, Gorfgib, and we’re friends of the Green Witch. She’s sent us to seek your great King’s counsel and help.”
“Hmm, is that right? Well, my Dad’s not said anything about expecting any Humdrums, friends of the Green Witch or otherwise. And right now, I’m in charge, see. I’m the Prince …Prince Gorfgib and soon I’ll be the King. My father is away tending to trouble in the Eerie Marshes. So, you’ll come and await his return in one of our dungeons. We have no love for Humdrums these days!” The Frog Prince scowled. He was clearly not in a good mood and no friend to them.
Without further ado, the company of the Egg bearers were escorted at spear point a few hundred yards further along the creek. There was just no arguing with Prince Gorfgib’s suspicion and his determination to lock them up. Even when Grannie Maddam tried to speak and explain further, one of the Frog-men-at-arms just poked at her with his spear and cut her off in mid-protest. There was nothing they could do, nothing that wouldn’t just further antagonize the proud Prince.
Soon they had splashed their way around the next bend of the creek and there before them was the great Frog King’s Palace, just as had been described to them. At the edge of the creek lay a wide courtyard of floating, green Lily-pads, lying under a series of terraced fungi, protruding as balcony upon balcony, in tier after tier, up the side of the creek’s steep bank.
In between the huge fungal plates grew all sorts of waterside plant-life; some were in full bloom and gave off a heady scent. There were also many rivulets of water cascading down between the fungi balconies, splashing and sparkling as miniature waterfalls in the morning sun.
All in all, Roger thought it a most spectacular and very suitable place for a Frog King to have as his Palace. In other circumstances he would have loved to have visited. It was just a right Pain in Newton’s Neck that their expected friend and ally, King Gorfgib, wasn’t at home!
They soon found themselves being briskly frog-marched under one of the lowest of the fungal plates and entering a wide, sloping tunnel. This took them deep under the Frog King’s Palace. Here they were herded into a dark, damp dungeon. The round tunnel had been dimly lit with occasional torches thrust into the curving walls, but the dungeon itself had no such lighting.
“All right, me ducks, let’s not panic. First, let’s get some light on the situation, shall we? Just pass me handbag over, will you, Mary dear?”
With that Gran rummaged around in the handbag, duly passed to her, and pulled out a few sprigs of old Moonberries she’d kept there. Miraculously they still managed to shed some light despite being several weeks old and a bit tattered and battered. (Much like the handbag itself in fact.)
“There we go, dears; leasts we can sees each other now as we plans our next move.”
“What do you think we should do then, Gran?” Mary asked anxiously.
“Well I thinks we has to get away. There’s no knowin’ how long it’ll be before King Gorfgib returns; an’ this Prince Gorfgib chap don’t looks to be a very pleasant character at all.”
“But how?” Roger asked. Hoping that the solution for their escape wasn’t going to be shoved onto his shoulders again.
The Moonberry light had revealed that the dungeon was a round hole dug out of the rocky clay. It had one very heavy looking, round door and no windows of course, being underground. And he wasn’t exactly sure how far underground they were but thought it was roughly fifty feet or so. He was also pretty sure that a guard had been left on duty in the only tunnel to the surface.
“I can helpz here, I thinkz!” piped up Nimp. “I am familiarz wiv zeez zortz of dark plazes. Zum of my family live in ver Shady Vell across the river. Zeez tunnelz are like theirz ant are not built to lazt. Vay are burrowed into ver clay ant zoft rockz. I think we can tunnelz our way out!”
At that moment, Regor chose to wake from his nap, and sleepily yawned and telepathed to them. “And I can helpsh toos. I can looksh right through the erf and tells yous which way yous should digs so we gets out and not jusht end up shumwheres even worse!”
“Good!” said Gran, “that’ll do. Mary’ll magick up some shovels fer us, so let’s get to it!”
Mary didn’t bat an eye-lid about her magick being relied on this time. She opened the handbag, cleared her mind and concentrated, envisioning shovels just like the one Gran had back at their caravan, for shoveling coal into the stove. Then she groped in the bag and quickly pulled shovels out, just as she’d imagined, one for each of them.
“Vee ‘ave to do vis very quietly,” Nimp whispered to them as the digging got underway.
“What can we do with all the dirt we’re piling up in here?” Roger asked after a short while, as he wiped his sweaty brow.
“I’ll leave the handbag open and then you can just pour it in there and I’ll miniaturize it, as you do, just like I did with Gran,” Mary answered brightly. Her confidence as a young Witch had definitely grown now, after her few days spent with Grannie Madden and the Green Witch at the Observer Tree. She had accepted that she was a true Witch and was now focusing on learning and improving her skill.
Regor had directed them as to which way to dig their tunnel. It was hard, sweaty work but they were making steady progress. Soon a shovel finally broke through the dirt and vegetation of the bankside. They had been in the dungeon for barely two hours.
They quietly hauled themselves out of the hole and found they were just a little further along the bank but with the towering tiers of the Frog King’s Fungi Palace still above them. They now had to creep along and not get spotted by any of the Frogmen-in-arms.
It was early afternoon now and Roger was starting to feel hungry and thirsty but knew they had to press on no matter what. They couldn’t afford to be kept as prisoners just awaiting the return of their hoped-for friend and ally, King Gorfgib. But he also realized that they were now heading straight for another problem. Just how were they going to cross the River Tymes without King Gorfgib to help and advise them?
The Palace was well behind them now, and so far, no one had noticed their escape.
Roger just hoped that their luck would hold out. As they turned along a final bend of the creek, he caught a glimpse of the River Tymes, not far ahead of them. They had been hugging close to the edge of the creek and it was now getting steadily harder to make progress as it was definitely getting deeper the further they went.
“We’d better climb up the bank here,” he called out, “or we could get swept away in the tide or something, and the Green Witch warned us not to try and swim.”
“Yes, agreed,” answered Grannie Maddam, “but I wish the bloomin’ blinkin ’blazes we knew where we’re goin’ and just ‘ows we’re s’posed ter get there!”
“We’re goin’ across the river, Gran,” Mary cheerily told her. “We knows that much, it’s the ‘how’ that’s the problem. And this river’s too wide to swim anyway. Any ideas, Roj?”
Roger just looked and shook his head glumly. He didn’t have a clue.
They had climbed to the top of the bank and now stood together, surveying the scene. The mighty River Tymes lay there before them, a slow, turgid expanse of sparkling wide-water.
“It’s too far to do the rope trick we used under the volcano,” Mary sighed, “and anyway, we don’t have any Hircumen to help with that.”
“Itsh too fars for mees too,” Regor added, “I could levitates sums of us, but not that far!”
Then Roger suddenly had one of his famous bright ideas.
“Then we’ll just have to float!” he told them, with a grin.
“What do you mean float?” Mary replied, puzzled.
“Look down there!” Roger pointed in answer. Firmly pointing at a cluster of green reeds and Lily-pads growing at the creek's edge, beneath them. “We’ll use one of those Giant Lily-pads and float across, just like Frogs do!”
“Yers, we could, I s’pose,” muttered Gran, “but didn’t Flora mention somethin’ about sharks and things; dangerous things in the river that the Frog King was going to tell us about?”
“We’ll just have to be careful and keep a good lookout as we paddle over, that’s all,” Roger shrugged, feeling a bit miffed, “unless anyone else has a better idea that is?”
No one did. They made their way cautiously down the bank towards the Lily-pads. It was then that Frogmen-in-arms, led by an irate Prince Gorfgib, came charging, hopping-mad, around the creek’s bend, towards them. Their escape had at last been discovered.
Roger knew that they had to get to the Lily-pad before the Frogs did. They wouldn’t just be thrown into a damp dungeon now; there was just no telling what the miffed Prince might do to them. They’d shown him up and injured his pride.
“Jump for it everybody!” he cried. “We can’t let them catch us!”
They jumped. Splashing and gurgling into the mouth of the Creek. Mary immediately saw that her Gran was in trouble. Her skirts were billowing about her and filling with water, causing her to capsize like a sinking boat. She quickly swam to her and helped her onto the nearest Lily-pad.
“Keep down, Gran!” she cried, “I’ll cut us free. We’ve got ter get away fast!”
“Get into a Lily-pad quick!” she called to Roger and Nimp, splashing noisily behind her.
“Get in this one, Nimp,” Roger shouted, “… and cut the stalk. They’re nearly on us!”
Nimp speedily complied, whipping out the black, obsidian knife that he’d taken from Mr. Shlik in their earlier fight. With both Lily-pads cut free, they paddled madly at the water as fast as they could. Just using their hands at first but then Mary pulled out the shovels that she’d made appear before and had luckily put them back in the handbag. She quickly threw a couple to Roger and Nimp.
Using these, the two Lily-pads were paddled away from the shore, Roger and Nimp in one and Grannie and Mary in the other. They now steered steadily out into the broad River Tymes itself.
The Frogs, though, were closing in. Roger shouted for everyone to paddle faster, as they were still too near to the river bank. He could see the angry frogs gathering there, waving their fists at them and screaming and croaking the foulest of Frog insults.
“They can still throw their spears at us and they might follow and try to catch us too,” Roger yelled. “Paddle faster, everyone!”
But they didn’t. The Prince and the small army of frogs just stood in a group at the shore-line and Roger could see they were all pointing at them. They were just laughing and jeering at them!
“They’re not following us!” he exclaimed, feeling a growing dread prickling his skin. “Why are they laughing? Why aren’t they following us? They must know something we don’t! Oh, Einstein's Eyebrows! Just what have I got us into now?”
