12 Armageddon

 

            Little Walter had left the family and taken himself off to the old wing. He went to the girl’s room and, with Wuffie, made soothing noises promising to find the bracelet.  When she had quieted down, Wuffie whispered to Little Walter, ‘Do you think matters are coming to a head?’

            ‘I suspect so, Uncle Wuffie, and I think the time has come for me to find Merlin.’

            ‘How will you do that?’ asked the bemused Wuffie.

            Little Walter paused to give the girl an encouraging kiss, ‘I think if I meander around the old wing, he will come. But, Uncle,’ he added thinking of Auntie Louisa and her babies, ‘this will be a dangerous night. Do take care.’

            Wuffie regarded his nephew calmly, ‘Lad, my family is secure. Now, it is up to me to find your uncles. I did not join the clan of the Proud Pugs to sit by the fire while my brothers are in danger. You know,’ he confided, his monocle flashing, ‘I can be terrible when I’m roused.’

            Little Walter tried to imagine it—and failed. But he bowed to Wuffie and saluted his true heart.

            Wuffie gave the girl a big slobbery kiss then turned to his nephew and did the same.

            ‘Tonight,’ he said, ‘with the help of Lucy and the Blessed Benedictus, we shall do great things.’

            ‘Go well, Uncle Wuffie,’ said Little Walter as he watched his uncle trot proudly into the passage.

            The girl was standing by the window and Little Walter went to her, ‘What do you see, lady?’

            ‘No future,’ she answered.

            ‘Trust us,’ said Little Walter preparing to go to his destiny. He looked up to the window and darkness had fallen. ‘It begins, lady,’ he said gently, ‘and we will bring it to a good end.’

            When she did not answer, he put his paw on her slipper then trotted from the room.

            It was cold in the empty passage and very quiet except for the distant rumble of thunder. Little Walter walked on slowly, glancing into each room, but all he saw was shrouded furniture and the look of disuse. So he curled up in a corner and waited. Since he was, after all, a young pug his eyes grew heavy and sleep tiptoed up and embraced him.

 

While Little Walter Slept

 

            Iggy and Mac were coming up the slope to the house when Wuffie appeared in the doorway. He came toward them with a smile.

            ‘Have you found Little Walter?’ asked Mac.

            ‘Just left him,’ Wuffie said cheerfully. ‘He’s looking for Merlin.’ He looked at the sky. ‘Odd. Very odd,’ he said.

            ‘Yes?’ said Mac whose patience was wearing thin with sky gazers.

            ‘It’s the most lovely rose colour out here,’ said Wuffie taking the horizon in, ‘but it’s already night in the old wing.’

            ‘Then,’ said Iggy setting off quickly toward the door, ‘we’ve no time to waste.’

They went to the old wing. As they entered the passage, Iggy glimpsed lights from the queen’s rooms, but all he said was, ‘Do you see anything?’

‘No,’ said Mac in a strange voice, ‘but I feel something from the bad room.’

‘What do you think it means?’ asked Iggy.

‘That I should go there,’ said Mac with resignation. “What about you?’

‘The queen’s room.’

‘I believe I should go with Mac,’ said Wuffie.

Iggy nodded and, without another word, went toward the end of the passage.

Mac and Wuffie were left in the gloom and Wuffie looked about him with interest, ‘Well, brother, what’s your pleasure?’

Mac was about to inform him that there was precious little pleasure in this bad room, but he looked at his brave, willing brother-in-law and said, ‘Wuffie, are you still a keen jumper?’

‘Indeed, yes,’ said Wuffie, who had always enjoyed a good leap.

‘Well,’ said Mac, ‘in the room is a piece of furniture with several drawers. Michael opened one of them when we were in there before and, as far as I know, it’s still open. We left, you see, in a bit of a hurry.’

‘You think we should use this drawer as our base, as it were, of operations?’

‘Exactly. I’m certain you can make the jump and I’ll do my best to follow.’

‘Count on me,’ said Wuffie. Then he bowed and added, ‘Lead the way, brave Mac. And may dear Lucy and the Blessed Benedictus go with us.’

This enthusiasm put heart into Mac and with a fervent ‘Amen,’ he started for the room.

When they entered, Mac stood in the doorway wondering what had frightened him on his earlier visit. The feeling of evil had diminished, but he was not deceived. Pointing out the highboy to Wuffie, he was relieved to see that the drawer was still open. Wuffie gauged his distance through his monocle, then, with an easy stride and a powerful push, he arced through the air and landed squarely in the drawer, pulled himself up and winked at Mac.

‘Well done,’ breathed Mac. He squared himself up and, determined to think light, took a long run and leapt into the nearest chair. From the chair to the table was a hop and, with Wuffie’s encouragement, he tensed himself, then sprang. He plopped headfirst into the drawer and had to flail about a bit til he was right side up.

When they were finally sitting side by side, Wuffie looked to Mac for instructions. Mac ratcheted his head listening for any sound. The silence was absolute, so he turned to Wuffie.

‘I’m certain we’re in the right room. Beyond that—not a clue.’

‘So we wait,’ said Wuffie calmly.

‘Precisely.’

And, as they waited, they too fell asleep.

 

Little Walter Finds Merlin at Last

 

            While his uncles began to carry out their plans, Little Walter, who had slept through it all, yawned and stretched. He was about to doze off again when a voice said, ‘Little Walter, your time has come.’

The puppy looked about, but there were only shadows. ‘Excuse me,’ he said politely, ‘where are you?’

‘In the shadows,’ said the voice. ‘And,’ it added, ‘to save you the trouble of asking, I am Merlin.’

‘The little dog of the young lady.’

‘Not likely, lad,’ chuckled the voice.

‘You’re not the Merlin?’ asked Little Walter with a shiver of excitement. ‘The great Merlin who worked many kinds of magic?’

He was answered by another chuckle and, in the gloom, something flashed above his head. He peered, he squinted, then he gasped.

‘You were looking for this?’ crooned the voice.

‘Yes, Lord Merlin, for many, many years,’ said Little Walter.

‘Then I shall put it on you and you can take it to the girl.’

Little Walter sat down and waited. A shadow detached itself from the others and the golden bracelet was placed about his neck. Although it was too small to fit completely around, it didn’t fall off.

‘Off you go,’ said the voice, quite near now. ‘And try to fear nothing.’

Little Walter gave his finest bow, ‘I shall do my best, my lord.’

‘Yes,’ said the voice. Then it added, ‘I should have liked to have had a pug. Several in fact. But they didn’t exist—not in my time.’

‘May I tell that to my uncles?’

‘By all means. But wait until tomorrow.’

As he started toward the girl’s room, Little Walter breathed more freely. Only then did he realize that he hadn’t been terribly sure that tomorrow would arrive.

 

In the Bad Room

 

Mac came awake with a start. He looked about quickly and saw only Wuffie snoozing as peacefully as if he had been on his own pug pillow in Mattie’s cottage. Then he heard the voices. They were approaching the door and Mac prodded Wuffie with his paw until he awoke.

‘Hark to the voices, brother,’ he said softly and Wuffie cocked an ear.

‘They’re approaching,’ said Wuffie with real excitement in his whisper.

There was a glimmer of light as two figures came into the room, and the pugs sank down out of sight.

Devoutly hoping that no one would think to close the drawer, Mac strained to catch every word. The first thing he heard was muffled laughter in which he recognized the tones of a man and a woman.

‘It was so easy, so simple,’ giggled the man. He was as silly as a little boy, but there was something sinister in his mirth. The woman laughed more softly, but, when she spoke, there was a note of triumph in her voice.

‘Oh, I always knew that it would be effortless. When one has such a trusting cousin, there’s little challenge. She believes in everyone—most especially in you and me.’

While they spoke, the man lighted several candles and the couple stood out in the dark room. Suddenly they embraced and Wuffie would have turned away out of politeness if Mac hadn’t nudged him to keep watching.

‘Where have you hidden it?’ he asked.

‘Somewhere absolutely safe,’ she answered. ‘Our most difficult task is over. All we have to do is commiserate with her on her loss and support her when the queen goes into a fury.’

‘Are you certain that her majesty will give vent to such wrath?’ he asked with such hope in his voice that Wuffie shuddered.

‘I do not wait upon her for nothing,’ she answered. ‘Her majesty can tolerate only strong women, and she sees my cousin as fragile.’

‘But what about the fact that she loves me?’

‘It will not signify—not to the queen. Love is only for those who can afford to take it with a strong hand. In her majesty’s world, weak women do not deserve stalwart men. And you, my lord, are a strapping man.’

At this bit of humour, they both laughed heartily and Wuffie had to nudge Mac who was grinding his teeth in fury.

‘Now, my lord, wait here,’ she continued quickly, ‘I must do my sad duty and report the loss of the bracelet to the queen.’

 It is late now,’ he said, ‘is that appropriate?’

‘Oh yes, I am distraught and cannot hold my tongue. And,’ she added slyly, ‘her majesty will have all night to think of it and devise a fit punishment for my cousin.’

‘Then go,’ he said, ‘but do not be too long. I shall wait for you here.’

Just as the woman turned to go, there was the sound of laughter from the hall. And the young girl flew into the room.

‘Oh my dears,’ she said, ‘I knew that I should find you here. The most wonderful thing! The bracelet has been found by my dear little Merlin!’

‘Now, now, my love,’ said the man in a measured tone, ‘these fantasies will not help. We have all looked so hard and there was no finding it.’

‘Yes,’ chimed in the dark woman, ‘much better to go before the queen with the truth. She has, you know, little patience with falsehood.’

‘No lie, cousin,’ said the girl moving about the room in her joy, ‘here is Merlin. Look, see how he is wearing it.’

She lifted her skirt a fraction and Little Walter calmly walked out before the couple, the bracelet draped around his neck and glowing against his black coat. There was complete silence. Then the man bent down to Little Walter stroking him and looking closely at the bracelet.’

‘So,’ he said in a dangerous voice, ‘little Merlin works his own magic.’

In the drawer, Mac just breathed, ‘Ready brother.’

And Wuffie answered, ‘Ready.’

They drew themselves up ready to spring. The man’s hand tightened. Not on the bracelet, but on Little Walter’s neck and he jerked him from the floor and heaved him high in the air.

‘Attack!’ shouted Mac and launched himself out of the drawer.

‘Proud Pugs Forever!’ shouted Wuffie and, pushing himself into the air, aimed for the enemy’s shoulders where he landed with considerable force.

Mac went for the feet, snapping and biting; Wuffie clung to the neck growling and scratching. They had one purpose now: to keep the man away from the window as long as he held Little Walter. But their enemy was young and powerful and, despite their heroic efforts, he moved forward.

The girl was in the corner stiff with horror, but the dark woman moved and opened the narrow window as wide as it would go. ‘Throw him,’ she cried, ‘throw him out.’

Wuffie’s growls became screams of fury and frustration. Mac wrapped his body around the man’s leg and bit down—hard. But the man inched forward, arched his arm backward and pitched. Little Walter flew through the air toward the window, legs flailing. But there was no way for him to stop himself. The dark woman snatched at the bracelet as he flew past, then drew back her hand with a cry when the metal burned her. Suddenly, Little Walter was gone. A moment before, he had been framed in the deep window; now there was only a shaft of moonlight to accent the darkness he had left behind.

 

What Ignatius Had Been Doing All This Time

 

Iggy entered the queen’s chamber and stood so that the light of the candles would play upon him. She was in conference with two men whom he had never seen and the conversation was very animated.

‘I know that appearances are against her,’ said a quiet, handsome man, who resembled Andrew a little, and who was clearly trying to keep the sorrow out of his voice, ‘but she has ever been a dutiful child and I cannot believe that she would play the fool when it was a question of a treasure that she holds as dear as her life.’

‘Nevertheless,’ boomed that other man, ‘ my son made her a gift which she did not know how to keep safe. What would happen when, in time, she would become mistress of all that I owned?’

‘Do you believe, my lord,’ asked the queen, ‘that she would misplace a parcel of land or perhaps mislay an estate?’

‘No, majesty,’ answered the man whose ego would have filled the room had the queen’s presence not kept it in check. She seemed slight, sitting before these tall men. But Iggy knew that a hundred giants could have packed the room and all power would still have lain with Elizabeth. Unaccountably, he began wondering if she loved the memory of her mother. All talk was of her father, the great Henry, and her power and glory came from no one but him, but Iggy wondered if, in the deep night, she longed for the childhood she had never known. Perhaps that was why she came to see Louisa and looked down on the innocent sleep of her puppies and smiled at the pride of Wuffie. He shook himself back to the present as he became aware of the queen’s eyes upon him.

‘Attend to this, Ignatius Oliver,’ she said to the evident surprise of the men, and called for his cushion. It was brought in quickly and Iggy proudly walked forward and sat on it at the feet of the queen. He realized then what a special favour she had paid him, for the men were standing and, at this point, it was unlikely that they would have been invited to sit.

He looked up at the man who spoke for the girl. Her father, of course, but why was he alone and unsupported?

And then the tall man spoke again, ‘Majesty, this was the agreement: if this man’s daughter kept the bracelet intact, then, at the final ball, before your journey to Plymouth, we were to celebrate their nuptials. But then—and only then—if she put on the bracelet for the celebration would she be married to my son. She admits that she cannot find it. The ball is in two days. I will not,’ he continued, his voice rising, ‘have my son made to look the fool.’

‘No,’ said the quiet man, ‘you would only have my daughter dishonoured. A gentler heart ne’er breathed and you would destroy her for, what, at best, is a mistake.’

They both paused and, in the silence, the queen turned to Iggy. ‘Have you an opinion on this, sir?

‘I do, majesty,’

‘Give it.”

‘Both gentlemen speak what they think is the truth and both are wrong.’

‘Why?’ she asked crisply.

Iggy settled himself on the pillow and gave the opinion that was to ring back three centuries: ‘Our young lady is innocent of any crime or lapse in her faculties. She did not misplace the bracelet out of carelessness nor is she lying to protect herself.’ He paused and surveyed the men, who were looking at him with an amazement that they could not show to the queen.

‘But the bracelet is gone, is it not?’

‘Yes, majesty, it is missing for the moment,’ said Iggy, ‘because all that is stolen does go missing—at least for a time.’

‘Do you accuse someone, Ignatius Oliver?’ the queen asked quietly.

‘Not until I’ve talked with Mac and the Count of Wuf. They are seeking the solution even as we speak.’

And even as Iggy was speaking, terrible crashes were heard, followed by a puggish war cry. And although the others were deaf to it, Iggy heard the sound of giant wings beating and his head swam a little as the war cry of the Blessed Benedictus filled the air.

He jumped up and bowed, ‘Majesty, things are on the move and my brothers may need my help.’ There was another crash and Mac’s howl of rage and pain filled the house. Iggy raced to the door, gave a cursory bow and bounded out into the passage.

 

Triumph of the Pugs

 

As Iggy raced into the passage, the sound of the commotion increased. He heard Mac snarl and a sound of fury that he did not recognize mingled with it. Wuffie was doing himself proud. He dashed into the room and quickly surveyed the scene to see where he was needed. Mac was bleeding from a deep cut in his shoulder but he fought on. Wuffie was hanging from the man’s shirt by his teeth in great danger of being sent flying in the path of Little Walter.

‘Caution, brother,’ Mac called, ‘the villain has a dagger.’ Even as he shouted the warning, the dagger flashed in a downward stroke toward Mac, who sidestepped at the last moment. As the weapon slashed the air, Iggy rushed forward, leapt low and caught the man’s wrist in a firm and—he hoped—very painful hold. At the same time Wuffie got a good grip on the shoulder and bit down with gusto. The left hand clawed at the air trying to reach Wuffie who had opened an old wound. Mac tried to leap for the left hand but couldn’t make it. The pugs, who were occupied with one evildoer, couldn’t see the dark woman start toward them, but the girl did. She seemed to rouse from her torpor and clutched her cousin by the arm. When she spoke, her voice was breathless but very firm.

‘Do not try to interfere again, cousin,’ she said. ‘What you have done to Merlin will not be repeated.’

There was a crash and both women looked around. The man had managed to pull Wuffie from his shoulder and toss him to the floor. Only Iggy remained glued to his wrist, and, with a wicked swing, he wrenched him off and slammed him against the stone wall. Stunned, Iggy slid to the ground near Wuffie. Seeing their plight, Mac raced over and stood before the wounded pugs. He was quite ready to fight to the death and quite certain that that was his fate.

‘Be brave, brothers,’ he whispered. ‘Lucy and the Blessed Benedictus fight with us and are ready to take us to themselves if the enemy proves too much.’ The three pugs were all hurt and the fight should have been over, but they gathered together and, wobbly though their little battle line was, stood to face the man who had injured their family so many years ago.

‘Now,’ said the man with the zest of the really nasty, ‘I shall take my revenge on these brave fools.’

‘And what fools, my lord, would those be?’

Even in his dizzy state Iggy recognized the voice of the queen. Through half-closed eyes, he saw Mac draw himself up to the best height that his wound would allow and bow before her. Iggy and Wuffie needed to lean on Mac to make their bow. Behind her majesty stood a brace of her powerful guards looking sleepy but willing.

‘Mad dogs, your majesty,’ explained the man. ‘All must be protected from them,’ he said displaying his wounds for her approval while still looking lethal. It was a stellar performance and its cleverness did not escape the queen.

‘And who were you protecting at this hour, my lord?’ she asked with interest.

‘Why, the ladies first,’ he said with a bow in their direction, ‘and then myself when I was set upon.’

‘And where is the little one?’ she continued. ‘Was he as ferocious as the others?’

‘Alas, majesty,’ he said, ‘he was the worst. And for that, he fell to his death from this very window.’

For the first time, Elizabeth seemed truly startled. She looked toward Iggy but he was in no condition to tell her anything. Leaning to her guards, she whispered something and three tall men detached themselves from the others. Each picked up a pug very gently and quietly left the room.

Iggy, Mac and Wuffie remembered very little of the next hour. They were cleaned and their wounds treated and all the while gold flashed about the room like lightening—sometimes it was near to them, sometimes at a distance. And the gold had a voice. And it was the voice of the queen. But there was a new tone to it: one of compassion and concern and true affection.

‘Majesty,’ Iggy said when he could finally speak sensibly, ‘we must go down to the seashore.’

The queen was sitting on the bed next to him. She put out her jeweled hand and he watched the sparkling stones remembering when she had petted him.

‘None of you can go out now. It’s dead of night. You must gain strength.’

‘Little Walter must be found,’ said Iggy.

‘Ignatius Oliver,’ she said quietly, ‘Little Walter is dead. He was tossed through that high window. No one could survive that fall.’

‘I believe, ma’m, that he did. And we must go to find him.’

Ordinarily, she would have been cross with such obstinacy, but considering how the pugs had come to her across the years and the value of their mission to their family, she called her three guards again.

‘Well, Ignatius Oliver, I will accept your word and have you and yours taken to the shore. In fact, I shall go with you.’

Iggy smiled, ‘It is all I can hope for—your presence will truly resolve this matter.’

Accompanied by her guards, the queen followed the three tall men who bore the pugs to that part of the shore where they had left Charles. When they reached their destination, Iggy looked about with interest and saw the many torches of the guards showing red against the sky and reflecting in the water.

Once he was placed gently on his feet, he called for Charles. It seemed forever before he heard the scuttling on the sand and Charles danced before him. Quickly, Iggy presented him to the queen and, somehow, Charles managed to rear up before her and perform a perfect crustacean salute with his claws.

‘We are looking for Little Walter,’ said the queen.

 ‘Oh, yes,’ said Charles, ‘he was thrown from that rather attractive window sporting the bracelet that’s been the cause of so much trouble.’

‘The very one,’ said Elizabeth brusquely, ‘now produce him or you will play a minor role in my dinner tomorrow.’

‘Majesty,’ said Charles a little wearily, ‘your father tried before you and I’m still here.’ He bowed—rather well for a crab—then produced a strange, eerie sound. Out of the darkness and into the torchlight walked Little Walter. He was still moist and there was an odd look about him, but he was, undeniably, himself and, with him, joy returned. He bowed to the queen and kissed each of his uncles in turn.

Ignoring the fact that he was dripping on her costly dress, Elizabeth herself lifted Little Walter. The water drops mingled with pearls and flowed over rubies, while a queen with flaming hair held a little black pug wearing a gold bracelet. The red glare of the torches against the black sky and ebony water caused a shifting rose light to play over the scene.

‘Tell us what happened, boy,’ she said.

‘Well, your majesty,’ he said, closing his eyes to see it all clearly, ‘the bracelet was returned to me by Merlin and . . . .’

‘The little dog?’ she asked.

‘No,’ said the puppy savouring the moment, ‘the great wizard who was the friend of Arthur.’ He paused and the whole group assembled on the shore looked at him with wonder.

‘Quite true,’ chimed in Charles, ‘Merlin has taken a great interest in the fate of the bracelet.’

‘Then?’ said Elizabeth, clearly burning to know more.

‘I brought it to my young lady and she rushed to tell the others. But the man was not pleased. He seemed to know that I would not part with this treasure which proves her fidelity, so he heaved me out of the window. I know he meant to keep the bracelet, but he was thwarted, for the bracelet seemed to burn that dark woman when she tried to snatch it from me. It burned someone again when I was falling. But it was dark and I couldn’t see.’

‘But how did you survive that fall? The passage between the rocks is narrow and the water deep.’

‘Oh,’ said the puppy reverently, ‘dear Auntie Lucy was with me and took me down very gently. Then, when I was deep in the water she made me very calm and I swam to the surface and reached shore easily.’

‘Lucy was with you?’ asked Iggy jubilantly.

‘Oh yes, uncle, and she sends you her love.’

‘And the bracelet?’ the queen, trying to tie off the loose ends, seemed to ignore the miraculous in favour of the more immediate.

 

‘I expect it can be found,’ said Charles doing one of his little dances.

‘Find it, you cheeky crustacean,’ said Elizabeth the Queen in a tone that had made humans tremble.

Charles danced up to her shoes, bobbed a bow, then scuttled into the water. There was silence on the shore while the torches seemed to burn their reflection into the water and the tiny waves danced too. Suddenly he broke the surface and scuttled toward the queen.

‘Majesty,’ he said proudly, ‘here is your gift from the sea. The little ones have triumphed and the family honour is preserved.’ He laid the bracelet at her feet and moved to stand with the pugs. The queen put Little Walter down and picked up the bracelet. In the light of the torches it was red gold.

‘Indeed,’ she said, ‘the family owes you much.’ Then she paused and looked over the scene. The waves themselves did her honour and lapped at her shoes respectfully, while a great red sun pushed up to share the sky with the descending moon.

‘My father was a great prince—perhaps the greatest—but I know he never saw such magic,’ she murmured to herself. Then she turned to the pugs and Charles. ‘We will indeed celebrate in a few nights. Ignatius Oliver, gather all your family for the ball. We will vindicate your unhappy relative and salute you. It will be the only public salutation you are likely to receive.’

‘It was always the very best we could expect. And, at times, it seemed that we would not prevail. That we have done so and that your majesty has seen it is magnificent.’ With that, he made a wobbly bow and Mac and Wuffie joined in.

‘Rest,’ said the queen, ‘take your ease and heal. The next time we meet I expect you to be the proud pugs I first saw.’ She was turning to go when Charles scuttled to the shore and cried out, ‘Three cheers for our Elizabeth!’

In the glow of the dawn, the waves leapt high, fish jumped in and out of the water and crabs and lobsters could be seen bobbing about with their claws raised in salute. Strange sounds came from the sea and grew louder and louder. Elizabeth stood perfectly still looking over it all and receiving the tribute with a glittering eye. Then, without a word more, she turned and, followed by her guards, walked swiftly back to the house.

When she had disappeared, Charles looked his friends over. ‘You have really been in the wars,’ he said laconically. ‘But you have fulfilled it all. Now, best get back to the house.’

‘House indeed,’ grumbled Mac. Then he sighed, ‘It will be slow going, but, if we lean on each other, we’re sure to make it.’

‘Gentlemen,’ said a very familiar voice, ‘do let me help.’

Wuffie spun round and a very large grin split his face. ‘Dear Willie,’ he said with relief and pride, ‘what on earth are you doing here?’

‘Been about for a while,’ said Rattle evasively. ‘Couldn’t help much til now, so thought I’d wait til her majesty took her leave.’

‘You could see her?’ asked Wuffie.

‘Absolutely, lad. Saw quite a lot, actually. But never mind that now.’

While he talked, Rattle began gathering up the pugs and, when he was satisfied that they were as comfortable as possible, he began walking toward the house.

‘Bravely done,’ called Charles then scuttled toward the waves who were still dancing with excitement.

 

 

CHAPTER 13 AFTER ARMAGEDDON

 

 

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