Catweazle by Richard Carpenter

the white sports car holding a bucket of water in one
hand and a car washing mop in the other. Before he could stop him, Catweazle
lifted the bucket and emptied it into the front seats.
    ‘What
on earth d’you think you’re doing?’ said Carrot.
    ‘Save thyself,
brother. She hath the enchanting box,’ said Catweazle, pointing to the garden
where the two ladies were sunning themselves.
    ‘Catweazle,
you’ve got to pull yourself together.’
    ‘I
cannot. The hag hath torn me apart, into many parts.’
    ‘But
just because you’ve been photographed it doesn’t mean she owns you.’
    ‘Fly,
brother,’ said Catweazle, dully, ‘while there is still time.’ ‘Listen to me,’
said Carrot. ‘If I get those pictures, will you come back to Castle Saburac?’
    ‘I know
not,’ said Catweazle listlessly.
    ‘You’re
useless!’ said Carrot angrily. ‘If they start to come back - press this,’ he
said, pointing to the horn button on the steering wheel, and he crept into the
house.
    Catweazle
stared at the button. What would happen if he did press this thing? Would
Demons come to his aid? Or might he become invisible? The temptation was too
much for him. Slowly his finger approached the button and finally jabbed at it.
It stuck. The horn blared out, and Catweazle shook with terror.
    Carrot,
who was reaching for the last picture in the sitting-room, jumped back in alarm
and the screen came crashing down on the tea trolley. Cups broke and the teapot
rolled over the carpet as he rushed out.
    ‘You
idiot!’ he shouted at Catweazle above the nerve-shattering noise of the horn.
‘Here! You’re free! Now get going!’
    As
Catweazle grabbed the pictures, he suddenly came to life. His eyes lit up again
and he made off like a hare down the drive, leaving Carrot to prise up the horn
button with his penknife.
    ‘Edward,
what are you doing?’ said Mrs Derringer as she came running up with Maud.
    ‘The
horn was jammed,’ said Carrot.
    ‘Where’s
Mr Catweazle?’
    ‘Gone.’
    Maud
glanced significantly at Mrs Derringer and ran indoors.
    ‘Where
did he go?’ said Mrs Derringer.
    ‘I
don’t know,’ said Carrot. ‘He didn’t say.’
    There
was a scream from the sitting-room and Maud came running out again.
    ‘He’s
smashed the place up and taken the prints! He must be mad!’ she said excitedly.
    ‘Then
let’s get after him!’ said Mrs Derringer.
    They
jumped in the car and sat down on the wet seats. A shocked expression appeared
on their faces as the water soaked through. Then the powerful car burst into
life with a roar and skidded off in pursuit of their prey.
    Catweazle
ran panting into the woods, tearing the photos into little pieces and
scattering them behind him like confetti.
    ‘Hag
ridden, thou midden,’ he gasped, reciting a spell. ‘Hag turnabout, thus I thee
rout.’ He waved his arms in the air. ‘Schempamporasch,’ he cried.
    Was it
Catweazle’s magic or merely coincidence that at that moment a front tyre burst
on Mrs Derringer’s car and she was forced to abandon the chase?
    Catweazle
ran on until he reached the water tower. The sun was beginning to set.
    ‘Always
I am hunted, used and abused,’ he said. ‘Now all is sorcery, magic I cannot
learn, magic I cannot vanquish. I will return to the past and the mighty
forest. ’Tis time to make the Great Spell.’
    He
climbed into the tank, and made his final preparations. Putting the junk from
the cottage into the suitcase together with the crystal ball he placed it in
the centre of his magic circle and lit the candles with Carrot’s matches.
    ‘Venite
spiritus, coeli et terrae, ignis et aquae, ab hoc loco abripite me,’ commanded Catweazle.
    Carrot,
who had seen Catweazle making for the water tower, began to climb up himself.
    ‘Asparaspes!’
shouted Catweazle. ‘Askoraskis!’
    He
looked around. He was still in the water tank.
    ‘Salmay,
Dalmay, Adonay!’ he cried, as Carrot reached the top of the ladder outside and
began to climb