Jack completed the famous speech that he had rehearsed so much for the school play. Fanshawe looked at Jack with an expression of complete and utter awe.
“You have a gift… a gift of genius… a gift from heaven itself. How…?”
Jack smiled, “Oh I guess I’m a bit like you, Fanshawe, you know, a knack with words.”
Fanshawe’s eyes were agape. “But this is truly incredible… you have talent my boy… providential talent.”
Jack blushed. He knew he probably should not have done it. “Really, it’s nothing.”
But before Jack could say anything, Angus stuck his head through the curtains at the rear of the wagon.
“You guys going to be long? ’Cos we got a problem. A big problem.”
Bandit Country
There was something feral about the three men who stood on the track in front of them. Their faces and clothes — rags more like — were filthy. It was as if they had emerged from the undergrowth of the surrounding forest and were in some way part of it. Two of them brandished large wooden clubs, and the third a long knife. It was this third man who spoke through a toothless mouth.
“We don’t want much…” he said. “Just everything you’ve got.”
Trinculo was shaking and the bells on his hat started to tinkle.
“We have nothing,” Fanshawe announced bravely, puffing out his chest.
But no sooner had the words come from Fanshawe’s mouth than the ringleader wielded his great wooden club. It cut through the air and caught Fanshawe hard on the side of his thigh. Fanshawe wailed and collapsed to his knees, whimpering.
“We haven’t time for this… Stave, search the cart… Butcher and me will see what this lot have on them.” He immediately reached down to Fanshawe’s neck and yanked off a thin silver chain and cross that hung there. “That’ll do nicely for a start.”
Fanshawe sobbed louder.
Suddenly, Fanshawe’s small wooden chest was thrown from the back of the cart and Stave jumped out after it.
“I found this.”
He booted the chest which flew open and Fanshawe’s precious papers scattered across the muddy ground.
Fanshawe wailed hysterically.
The ringleader prodded him with his stick. “Shut your mouth — or you’ll get more of this.”
He strode over to the chest. “What is it?”
Trinculo and Monk were silent.
He turned back to them and snarled, “I asked what is it?”
Monk said quietly, “Plays, poems.”
Trinculo mumbled, “They’re not worth anything.”
But the ringleader had a glint in his eye. “Not what I hear. You can get
The bandits gathered round the papers, suddenly interested.
Jack whispered to Angus from the side of his mouth, “Any ideas?”
“Tony and Gordon carried the only weapons, but I did manage to sneak this with me… was at the bottom of my school bag for some reason.”
Angus opened his doublet fractionally for Jack to see what was inside. He had brought his catapult. And it wasn’t the one made from a bit of wood hewn from a tree with an elastic band attached. Angus had a slingshot of high-tensile industrial rubber tethered to a carbon fibre frame. Jack had seen Angus use this favourite ‘toy’ to shatter a beer bottle fifty metres away. He opened up the other side of his doublet.
“And I found a couple of these in the VIGIL prep area… pocketed them while the others weren’t looking,” he whispered.
A couple of tubes poked up from his inside pocket. Jack didn’t know what they were.
“Thunder flashes,” Angus said guiltily.
The bandits had become bored with the papers and they hurriedly stuffed them back into the wooden chest. The ringleader turned back to them.
“What else have you got?”
Angus reached into his pocket, pulled out one of the thin tubes and held it out.
“I have this… But I don’t know if you will want it.”
“What is it?”
Angus looked at Jack who interjected, “We use it in our plays… it is, er, a musical stick. It makes music.”
“Loud music,” Angus added.
The ringleader came closer. “I have never heard of such a thing… how does it work?”
“Easy,” Angus said. “See that rock over there. Well, you just bang the bottom of the music stick on it… and then hold it in your hand… and wait for the music.”
Stave barged forward. “I want to do it!”
“No me…” Butcher said.
“Stand aside — I will do it — I am the leader.”
The ringleader took the thunder flash, marched over to the rock and manfully banged one end onto the rock. “Like that?” he asked.
“Yes,” replied Angus, “just like that.”
They waited.
The ringleader looked at them questioningly. “It’s not work-”
Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of light and an earsplitting bang as the thunder flash went off in the bandit’s hand. It was as if the entire forest had gone up. For a second he was invisible in the swirling blue smoke, but as it cleared, the man staggered blindly around, clutching his hand and wailing in pain.
His friends raced over to help him. Angus whipped out his catapult and selected a stone from the ground. In one movement he stretched back the rubber, extending it all the way from his outstretched arm to his ear lobe. He closed his left eye and narrowed his right along the length of the rubber and… released. Jack could have sworn he heard the stone hiss angrily through the air. It caught Stave in his kneecap and he sank to the ground, emitting a low guttural grunt. Butcher turned, his face red with anger, and pelted towards them wielding his club as he came. But Angus had coolly reloaded the catapult and unleashed a second shot. It was extraordinary that a small pebble could stop a grown man in his tracks. But it did. Angus had again skilfully targeted the leg, and now all three of their assailants were on the ground. Alive, but in a great deal of pain.
Angus reloaded for a third time, but Jack put his hand up.
“I think we’re done.”
Angus lowered the catapult.
Fanshawe was soon on his feet, wrapping Angus and Jack in a bear hug.
“Thank you, my friends.”
Trinculo immediately performed another jig — just as embarrassing as the first.
Jack and Angus approached the three bandits who groaned in the mud.
“Will they be okay?” Jack asked.
“Unfortunately, yes, they’ll be limping around for a day or two… and what’s-his-face will have a nasty burn on that hand… but they’ll be fine.”
Jack looked down at the three men. He wasn’t quite sure what to say, but tried his best tough-man voice. “Right you lot. Come near us again… and well… we’ve got a load more tricks up our sleeves… and you’ll regret it — we’ll, er, be calling 999.”
