THE AVENGERS.
There was nothing now to be dreaded from Dr. Kelman, but it made Curdie
anxious, as the evening drew near, to think that not a soul belonging to
the court had been to visit the king, or ask how he did, that day. He
feared, in some shape or other, a more determined assault. He had
provided himself a place in the room, to which he might retreat upon
approach, and whence he could watch; but not once had he had to betake
himself to it.
Towards night the king fell asleep. Curdie thought more and more
uneasily of the moment when he must again leave them for a little while.
Deeper and deeper fell the shadows. No one came to light the lamp. The
princess drew her chair close to Curdie: she would rather it were not so
dark, she said. She was afraid of something--she could not tell what;
nor could she give any reason for her fear but that all was so
dreadfully still. When it had been dark about an hour, Curdie thought
Lina might be returned; and reflected that the sooner he went the less
danger was there of any assault while he was away. There was more risk
of his own presence being discovered, no doubt, but things were now
drawing to a crisis, and it must be run. So, telling the princess to
lock all the doors of the bedchamber, and let no one in, he took his
mattock, and with here a run, and there a halt under cover, gained the
door at the head of the cellar-stair in safety. To his surprise he found
it locked, and the key was gone. There was no time for deliberation. He
felt where the lock was, and dealt it a tremendous blow with his
mattock. It needed but a second to dash the door open. Some one laid a
hand on his arm.
"Who is it?" said Curdie.
"I told you they wouldn't believe me, sir," said the housemaid. "I have
been here all day."
He took her hand, and said, "You are a good, brave girl. Now come with
me, lest your enemies imprison you again."
He took her to the cellar, locked the door, lighted a bit of candle,
gave her a little wine, told her to wait there till he came, and went
out the back way.
Swiftly he swung himself up into the dungeon. Lina had done her part.
The place was swarming with creatures--animal forms wilder and more
grotesque than ever ramped in nightmare dream. Close by the hole,
waiting his coming, her green eyes piercing the gulf below, Lina had but
just laid herself down when he appeared. All about the vault and up the
slope of the rubbish-heap lay and stood and squatted the forty-nine
whose friendship Lina had conquered in the wood. They all came crowding
about Curdie.
He must get them into the cellar as quickly as ever he could. But when
he looked at the size of some of them, he feared it would be a long
business to enlarge the hole sufficiently to let them through. At it he
rushed, hitting vigorously at its edge with his mattock. At the very
first blow came a splash from the water beneath, but ere he could heave
a third, a creature like a tapir, only that the grasping point of its
proboscis was hard as the steel of Curdie's hammer, pushed him gently
aside, making room for another creature, with a head like a great club,
which it began banging upon the floor with terrible force and noise.
After about a minute of this battery, the tapir came up again, shoved
Clubhead aside, and putting its own head into the hole began gnawing at
the sides of it with the finger of its nose, in such a fashion that the
fragments fell in a continuous gravelly shower into the water. In a few
minutes the opening was large enough for the biggest creature amongst
them to get through it.
Next came the difficulty of letting them down: some were quite light,
but the half of them were too heavy for the rope, not to say for his
arms. The creatures themselves seemed to be puzzling where or how they
were to go. One after another of them came up, looked down through the
hole, and drew back. Curdie thought if he let Lina down, perhaps that
would suggest something; possibly they did not see the opening on the
other side. He did so, and Lina stood lighting up the entrance of the
passage with her gleaming eyes. One by one the creatures looked down
again, and one by one they drew back, each standing aside to glance at
the next, as if to say, _Now you have a look_. At last it came to the
turn of the serpent with the long body, the four short legs behind, and
the little wings before. No sooner had he poked his head through than he
poked it farther through--and farther, and farther yet, until there was
little more than his legs left in the dungeon. By that time he had got
his head and neck well into the passage beside Lina. Then his legs gave
a great waddle and spring, and he tumbled himself, far as there was
betwixt them, heels over head into the passage.
"That is all very well for you, Mr. Legserpent!" thought Curdie to
himself; "but what is to be done with the rest?"
He had hardly time to think it however, before the creature's head
appeared again through the floor. He caught hold of the bar of iron to
which Curdie's rope was tied, and settling it securely across the
narrowest part of the irregular opening, held fast to it with his teeth.
It was plain to Curdie, from the universal hardness amongst them, that
they must all, at one time or another, have been creatures of the mines.
He saw at once what this one was after. He had planted his feet firmly
upon the floor of the passage, and stretched his long body up and across
the chasm to serve as a bridge for the rest. He mounted instantly upon
his neck, threw his arms round him as far as they would go, and slid
down in ease and safety, the bridge just bending a little as his weight
glided over it. But he thought some of the creatures would try his
teeth.
One by one the oddities followed, and slid down in safety. When they
seemed to be all landed, he counted them: there were but forty-eight. Up
the rope again he went, and found one which had been afraid to trust
himself to the bridge, and no wonder! for he had neither legs nor head
nor arms nor tail: he was just a round thing, about a foot in diameter,
with a nose and mouth and eyes on one side of the ball. He had made his
journey by rolling as swiftly as the fleetest of them could run. The
back of the legserpent not being flat, he could not quite trust himself
to roll straight and not drop into the gulf. Curdie took him in his
arms, and the moment he looked down through the hole, the bridge made
itself again, and he slid into the passage in safety, with Ballbody in
his bosom.
He ran first to the cellar, to warn the girl not to be frightened at the
avengers of wickedness. Then he called to Lina to bring in her friends.
One after another they came trooping in, till the cellar seemed full of
them. The housemaid regarded them without fear.
"Sir," she said, "there is one of the pages I don't take to be a bad
fellow."
"Then keep him near you," said Curdie. "And now can you show me a way to
the king's chamber not through the servants' hall?"
"There is a way through the chamber of the colonel of the guard," she
answered, "but he is ill, and in bed."
"Take me that way," said Curdie.
By many ups and downs and windings and turnings she brought him to a
dimly-lighted room, where lay an elderly man asleep. His arm was outside
the coverlid, and Curdie gave his hand a hurried grasp as he went by.
His heart beat for joy, for he had found a good, honest human hand.
"I suppose that is why he is ill," he said to himself.
It was now close upon supper-time, and when the girl stopped at the door
of the king's chamber, he told her to go and give the servants one
warning more.
"Say the messenger sent you," he said. "I will be with you very soon."
The king was still asleep. Curdie talked to the princess for a few
minutes, told her not to be frightened whatever noises she heard, only
to keep her door locked till he came, and left her.