Time Cat

By Lloyd Alexander

Gareth was a black cat with orange eyes, and when he hunched his shoulders and put his ears down he looked like an owl. When he sat on a window ledge with his eyes half shut and his tail curled around him, he looked like a secret. He belonged to a boy named Jason who loved him and believed Gareth could do anything in the world. Turns out Jason was right, not entirely, but almost. 

It happened this way, in the middle of a sunny afternoon, Jason was seated in his room on the end of his bed with his chin in his hands, wishing the last 5 minutes hadn’t happened. Downstairs in this space of time, he’d accomplished the following: 

1. Spilled paint on the dining table. 

2. Dropped his model plane and stepped on it. 

3. Coated the inside of one pocket of his jacket with glue when a tube he’d been saving for emergencies had come uncapped. 

4. Torn his shirt. 

5. Punched his younger brother in the ribs for laughing at him. 

6. Talked back to his mother, who didn’t agree his brother needed punching. 

7. Started to cry, which he despised since he considered himself too old for it. 

There were other details he preferred to forget, regardless he’d been told to go to his room, which he had, feeling put down and miserably sorry for himself. 

Gareth, who’d been drowsing on top of Jason’s pillow, uncurled and climbed onto the boy’s lap. Jason stroked the cat, running his finger over Gareth’s only white spot on his chest, a t-shaped mark with a loop over the crossbar. Jason sighs, lucky Gareth, he lies back closing his eyes and continues, he wished he had 9 lives. The cat stops purring and says, he wishes he did, too. 

Jason starts in surprise, not because Gareth spoke since he had always been sure he could if he wanted, it was what he’d said. Jason with disappointment asks, he really doesn’t have 9 lives? The cat confirms in a matter of fact way, he’s afraid not, but since he mentioned it, he’ll tell him a secret. He only has one life with a difference: he can visit. 

Jason asks, visit? Gareth says, yes, he can visit 9 different lives, anywhere, anytime, any country, any century. Jason claps his hands saying, oh, Gareth! Can all cats do this? 

Gareth asks, where does he think cats go when they’re looking all over and can’t find them? And has he ever noticed a cat suddenly appear in a room when he was sure the room was empty? Or disappear, and he can’t imagine where he went? Jason asks, and he’s actually gone to a lot of different countries? Gareth says, no, not yet. He’s been waiting for - oh, he doesn’t know, a special occasion, he might say. He never saw much sense in just going as a tourist. It’s better to wait until there’s some important reason. Jason says, he guesses he’s right. 

Then he looks over at Gareth and asks, he was wondering if he thought there might be a special occasion coming up soon? Gareth replies, there might be. Jason says eagerly, Gareth, listen, if it was a special occasion and somebody else he liked wanted very much to go, could he take him with him? Gareth doesn’t answer immediately, starting to look like an owl and staying this way for a while, finally saying, yes, he supposes he could. 

Jason straight out asks to come along, and Gareth is silent again. Then after a moment says, he could take him with him but he must warn him of this. He’d be on his own, he wouldn’t have any kind of protection, neither of them would. Naturally, he’d help him in every way he could, they’d be able to talk to each other, but only when no one else was around. 

Aside from this, what happens, happens, and he can’t change his mind in the middle. Oh and whatever he does, don’t dare to be separated from him for any length of time. Otherwise, he’d never see home again. Now if he accepts the conditions… 

Jason says, oh, Gareth, he accepts! The cat asks, is he sure? Think carefully. (Asking a literal child) Jason nods. The cat says, very well. Look into his eyes. He gives Jason a long, slow wink. 

Egypt 2700 B.C. 

A white sun, green-blue sky, they in a grove of palm trees, a temple rising at the end of a long avenue. Jason with Gareth at his sidewalk through a courtyard which seemed to stretch for miles. Jason, in a hushed voice says, why… they’re in Egypt, he knowing with certainty than wondering how he knew. He suspected Gareth somehow gave him the knowledge. 

Jason noticed even his clothes were Egyptian - a length of white linen tied about his waist. Perhaps this was all apart of the cat’s strange powers. Jason says, we’ve really come this far! Gareth says, we could’ve gone farther, but this is a good place to start, for a cat, at least. The Egyptian’s worship them, you know. They’re fond of them - just as cats,  and they worship them, too. They have all kinds of sacred animals, but the cat is most important. They’re sacred to the great Goddess Ubaste of the Sun and Moon.

In the distance, Jason heard the sound of flutes and drums approaching. Gareth stops in front of a statue of Baste herself, cat-headed, wearing a long clinging robe, in one hand a sacred rattle, in the other, a shield and at her feet crouched for stone kittens. Gareth leapt to the base of the statue and says, there’s a festival every year, here in Bubastis. It’s the sacred city of the cat goddess, and the ceremonies are very fancy. Get behind the statue and he can watch. He’ll stay here. Gareth squeezes himself in among the kittens, and with tail curled in front of him and his ears up he sat motionless as the statue itself. 

The music grew louder and worshipers started to fill the courtyard, Jason unable to begin to count them, but guessed there must be thousands. Lines of white robed priests swayed along the avenue toward the temple. Some held sacred rattles, others carried staves topped by glittering, golden statues of cats. Chanting voices filled the air with the Hymn to the Great Cat: 

Thy head is the head of the Sun-God, 

Thy nose is the of Thoth;

Thine ears are the ears of Osiris

Who hears the voice of all who call upon him.

Thy mouth is the mouth of Atum

Thy heart is the heart of Ptah; 

Thy teeth are the teeth of the Moon-God.

Thy whiskers are the rays of the Sun;

Thine eyes hold the Sun and Moon.

Jason understood the language, wondering if this was apart of Gareth’s magic. As the procession passed, the crowd followed in robes or skirts of linen, carrying great baskets of flowers and trays of fruit, the worshipers also taking up the above chant, the music and singing filling Jason’s whole body as they continued. Then, after the last line, it stopped, and there was silence as if the top of the sky had been lifted off. Then a powerful voice cried out, hear us, Great Cat, Sayer of Great Words! 

 The temple doors were opening and the worshipers streaming up the white steps, when the last of the crowd, had passed, Jason ventured from behind the statue, hoping to follow. He’d taken no more than two steps when something gripped uncomfortably tightly, and twisting around Jason looks up to see a white-robed, shaven-headed man scowling angrily at him. With one hand, the man held a roll of papyrus and the other held Jason’s ear. The man cried, wretched boy, reveal his business here! If he came to worship at the temple, why did he hide behind the statue? 

There were several scribes when Jason looked, all carrying bundles of papyrus scrolls or clay tablets. Just then Gareth hopped down, and as soon as the Chief Scribe saw him he let go of Jason’s ear, and says, behold! This cat bears the mark of the sacred ankh, symbol of life on his chest! The scribes drop to their knees and Gareth sat down and started to wash. After the scribes were through worshiping, and Gareth completed his washing, the Chief Scribe reached into his robe and brought out a leather purse.

The Chief Scribe says in an oily voice, his dear friend, forgive him for pinching his ear. He didn’t realize he was accompanied by such a distinguished and curiously marked creature. Tell him one thing, how much gold will he take for him? Jason cried indignantly sell my cat? One of the Minor Scribes interrupts, O crafty maker of letters, it’d be less expensive if we simply took this cat and left the boy in care of the sacred crocodiles. Chief Scribe stroked his chin and looked carefully at Jason, saying, his suggestion has merit, he was in fact, about to say the same thing. 

A Sub-minor Scribe timidly ventures, remember the cat bears the sacred ankh, it’s a powerful sign. Who knows what vengeance he might take? Chief Scribe agrees, his objection exactly. Jason burst in, he doesn’t know who he is, but he doesn’t think he has any right to stand there and talk about taking somebody’s cat away - and throwing somebody else to the crocs. Chief Scribe says, he’s afraid he doesn’t understand, they’ve sought the one cat in all Egypt which will be able to please the mighty ruler of the Great House, King Neter-Khet for many months - may he have life, health, and strength! 

The Minor Scribes shout, life! Health! Strength! The Sub-minor scribes echoing this sentiment. Chief Scribe goes on, and so when they saw his cat and the mark on his chest, it occurred to them he might indeed be the one. Under those circumstances, his young friend, they entreat him to come to the Great House and allow the Lord of the Two Lands of Egypt to gaze upon his cat. 

Jason reluctantly says, well…he supposes he could gaze if he wants, but this is all. Chief Scribe smiles blandly and says, naturally. No on would dream of forcing him to do anything against his will. Jason says, all right, then, but don’t forget. Only gazing. Chief Scribe says, his head is full of wisdom. He can tell him now: if he hadn’t agreed, he’d have very likely had to take his chances with the crocs. Jason sighs, yes, this is what he thought. 

The scribes led Jason and Gareth to the river and down a flight of stone steps where the royal barge waited. Once all had climbed aboard, the oarsmen shoved off and started rowing at top speed. For several days the barge skimmed along the Nile. Finally, Jason asked how long it’d be until they reached the Great House. 

Chief Scribe says, unenlightened boy, they’ve been traveling through it since yesterday. At last, the oarsmen docked at the riverbank. The Great House, Jason realized, was a whole city in itself, with bakers, carpenters, brick-makers and weavers. Holding Gareth tightly, Jason followed the Chief Scribe to the biggest building of all. 

They stopped in one hall filled with nothing but men marking on clay tablets. Here messengers never ceased hurrying in and shouting commands from King Neter-Khet. In the space of a few minutes, from what Jason could hear, Neter-Khet had declared 5 wars, signed 3 peace treaties, and ordered 8k stonemasons, to start a new pyramid. There was also a constant procession of slaves dragging in goods of all kinds. 

The scribes made great ceremony of scratching down their tallies. Jason decided the Egyptians loved counting things. It seemed no one could do anything without mentioning quantities, writing them down, comparing, adding, and marveling at the totals. Chief Scribe approaches one of the clerks and says, in the records of the Great House make this notation: this day, to the possessions of Pharaoh - life, health, strength - there shall be added 40k bushels of grain, 70k jars of oil, 3k oz of gold, and one black cat.

The clerk says, so it is spoken, so it is written! Jason cries, oh no it won’t! My cat isn’t one of the Pharoah’s possessions! Chief Scribe with a cold smile says, it’d seem he is now. Before Jason could turn and race from the hall, Chief Scribe scooped the bristling, spitting Gareth from his arms. 

Jason himself was seized from behind, hustled down a corridor, and most unceremoniously shoved into a tiny room. The heavy stone door swings shut behind him and he starts beating at it with his fists. He’d never trusted the Chief Scribe, then furiously thinks how had he let himself be tricked so easily? He through himself against the unyielding door, until exhaustion and drops to the ground.

Now Gareth was gone and he’d spend the rest of his life in a stone cell in Neter-Khet’s palace. The boy hides his face as his shoulders shake and he sobs, consoling himself with at least the Egyptians loved cats and Gareth would be well looked after. To Jason’s surprise, a little while later the door opened and Sub-minor Scribe peers in. Jason scrambles to his feet, behind the Scribe are 2 guards, taking him by the arms and marching him from the cell down one hall of columns after another, until Jason lost track of them all. 

In a huge room at the end of one corridor, on a platform topped by a carved and decorated throne, sat King Neter-Khet. Beside the King stood slaves with fly whisks and feathered fans on jeweled poles, musicians with trumpets and cymbals, and the Chief Scribe himself, looking sour. In front of the throne sat Gareth. The cat, Jason saw, was watching Neter-Khet in much the same way he would a beetle or something else which interested him - but didn’t interest him very much. 

Chief Scribe says, Great King, live forever. This is the wretch, we find lurking behind the statue. Perhaps his presence here will help. Neter-Khet says, we shall see. In his high headdress and robes, arms crossed in front of him and holding the shepherd’s crook and flail of divine authority, the Pharaoh looked no different from the statues in the throne room, but Neter-Khet’s face was dark and frowning. Jason thought, he looked like he never stops being angry, and at the top of his voice shouts, HE COMMANDS THIS CAT TO PLY AND ENTERTAIN PHAROAH!

The musicians clashed their cymbals the slaves cried, life! Health! Strength!, and the fly - whisker whisked as fast as he could. Gareth didn’t move, and the Chief Scribe hissed, well, go ahead, boy! Make the cat be entertaining! Jason hesitates, then kneels on the floor beside Gareth. One of the slavers tossed down a toy, a bejeweled mouse on a golden chain. 

Jason pulls it back and forth in front of Gareth, but he could tell from the set of Gareth’s ears and whiskers he wasn’t in the mood for games. Jason dropped the toy and shook his head saying, he doesn’t want to, he’s afraid there’s nothing he can do. Neter-Khet looks angrier than ever and shouts, HE COMMANDS THIS CAT TO PURR AND MAKE HIMSELF AGREEABLE TO PHAROAH! Once again there’s a clash of cymbals and the cries for life, health, strength.

The Chief Scribe takes out a clay tablet and says, so it is ordered, so it is written, and so it shall be done! Gareth still doesn’t move, Jason shrugs hopelessly, then picks up Gareth and puts him on Neter-Khet’s lap. The king starts stroking him, but Gareth put down his ears and squinted his eyes, then wriggles from the Pharaoh’s arms and leaps to the floor. Neter-Khet cries, aiee! 

Putting his thumb to his mouth: one of Gareth’s claws had accidentally scratched the King, and Pharaoh’s braided beard shakes with rage. Jason says he’s sorry; he doesn’t feel like playing or being agreeable right now. It’s nothing personal, he adds quickly, then adds, it’s the way cats are. Chief Scribe says, it’s obvious the boy is useless. Neter-Khet orders, return the cat to Bubastis, he doesn’t please him. Continue their search. 

The Scribe asks, and the boy? The sacred crocs are always hungry, he suggests cheerfully. Neter-Khet closes his eyes and nods. Chief Scribe, making yet another note on his tablet says, so it shall be done; he gestures to the guards. Once again Jason is seized and hustled down the vast corridors.

He clung to Gareth and pressed his cheek against his glossy fur, and says, he doesn’t care what they do to him, whispering, despite being frightened, the continues, he’s glad he didn’t entertain Pharaoh just because he ordered it. He should be the way he is this is all which counts. He adds, don’t worry, the sacred crocs probably won’t be hungry anyway. Jason hears a shout behind him, the guards stopping, Neter-Khet himself waves his crook and flail and says, return the cat and boy to him! As Jason and Gareth enter the throne room, the symbols clash again, the trumpets blew, and the slaves start plying their fans.

Neter-Khet commands, stop this ridiculous whisking and get out all of them; him too, pointing his flail at the Chief Scribe. In the empty hall Neter-Khet seems too tired to climb the steps to his throne. He instead slumps down on the edge of the platform and takes off his headdress and wig and to Jason’s amazement even his braided beard. Without them Neter-Khet didn’t appear half as angry as before. 

He asks, for the last time, is there nothing he can do? It’s happened with every cat they’ve brought in. All his subjects worship him - he’s a god, you know - his slaves are building the finest pyramid in Egypt, so things will be comfortable for him in the Other World, but he can’t find a cat to sit on his lap, and after all, they’re both sacred. It’s absolutely beyond him. Neter-Khet looks so discouraged  and unhappy Jason, couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Neter-Khet continues wistfully, he can’t imagine how he’s longed for a cat of his own. To stroke him and watch him play. When he was a child, he always had cats, they seemed very fond of him. Then after he became Pharaoh, they didn’t seem to care for him half as much. Jason thought for a while and at last says, he doesn’t know. Did he wear the headdress and the beard before he got to be King? This might have frightened them, also did he shout as much? Cats don’t like being shouted at.

Neter-Khet brightens a little and says, this might be it. Jason says, even so, when he’s not shouting, he’d think they’d have come around again. Neter-Khet says, they had, but they’d never play or purr when he ordered. Jason asks, did he expect them to? No cat in the world will do this!

Neter-Khet says, but he’s Pharaoh, he’s supposed to give orders. Jason says, this doesn’t mean anything to a cat, didn’t anyone ever tell him? Neter-Khet says, nobody tells him, he tells them. Besides, they were his cats, weren’t they? Jason says, in a way they were and in a way they weren’t. A cat can belong to him, but he can’t own him, there’s a difference. 

Meanwhile, Gareth had padded over to the disconsolate Pharaoh and now started to rub his head affectionately against Neter-Khet’s ankles. Neter-Khet shouts, LISTEN!, then claps a hand to his mouth, he whispering delightedly, he means, listen! He’s purring. Jason says, but this is what he told him. All cats are friendly if given a chance. Once in a while they like to keep to themselves and they’ll play and purr when they want to, and sometimes he has to wait. If he can understand this, he shouldn’t have any trouble at all finding a cat to please him. They’ll please him by just being themselves. Gareth had hopped onto the vacant throne and sat there watching them.

Considering how touchy Neter-Khet was about being Pharaoh, Jason rose and started to pick up Gareth. Neter-Khet says, no, let him stay there if he wants, he’s learned something this day. Not even Pharaoh can give orders to a cat. Later, Neter-Khet summons Chief Scribe and says, in the royal archives he has listed this cat as one of  his possessions this must be changed. Neither he nor any cat who shall live in the Great House should be called a possession. Pharaoh isn’t his master, but his host and privileged friend. Chief Scribe says, so it shall be written. 

Neter-Khet turns to Jason and says, he’d be honored if he and his cat would choose to stay with him. Jason says, they’d like to, but they’ve a long way to go. Neter-Khet nods and says, so it shall be. From his neck he took a golden ankh and hung it around Jason’s neck, saying, go in peace, strange travelers, he’s made him wonder whether Ubaste herself didn’t send him. 

Outside the Great House, Jason and Gareth follow the path along the river, and Jason says, well, he’s glad Neter-Khet found out it doesn’t do much good to shout a lot of orders. Gareth says, certainly not at cats. Or people for this matter. The air trembles in the sunset. Although far from Bubastis, it seems to Jason he could still hear the strains of the Hymn to the Great Cat, and says, Gareth, his whiskers look like the rays of the sun, and he thinks he could hold the moon in his eyes if he wanted. Gareth says, so the Egyptians say. Jason whispers, oh, Gareth, why doesn’t he try? Gareth says, not right now. He winks and Egypt vanishes. 

Rome and Britain 55 B.C.

The wide avenue’s of Bubastis narrow to a crowded street in Rome. Holding Gareth closely, Jason glances around, wondering which way to turn. Before he could move, a hand fell on his shoulder and someone says, here’s the cat we want! Two soldiers in close-fitting helmets and belted tunics step up beside Jason. 

Stubby businesslike swords hung at their waists. A shiny scar was scribbled across one man’s forehead, who says with a grin, hold on there, we won’t eat him. The Old Cats have velvet paws in Rome. The 2nd one laughs and says, and claws in Gaul. 

He was shorter than Scarface, but just as tough and leathery. Scarface says, now then, let’s hear his report. The soldier stiffens and flung up his arm in salute saying, Marcus Arrius Bassus reports to Gaius Petronius Valens, centurion of the Old Cats Company Mission: locate one cat for the honor of the Company Mission accomplished! Petronius asks Jason, what does he say to this? Not every cat gets a chance to join Caesar’s legions. They need a mascot and on the double. The Company is ordered back to Gaul; he reaches out and Gareth hisses and wrinkles his lips. 

The centurion cries, oh, is this the way of it? Shows his teeth, eh? He’s a legion cat, right enough. Jason pulls himself up as tall as he could and looks the soldier in the eye, despite the sword in Petronius’ belt making Jason’s voice shake a little, this cat belongs with him. Petronius claps him on the shoulder and says, bravely spoken! And fair enough! They’ll take both of them then. Come on, there’s nothing in Rome for a boy, and it’s no place for a cat. Civilians don’t appreciate cats, put them in artichoke gardens to keep away moles, this is all they know, but the legions - fresh air open sky, a good fight now and again. There’s the life for a cat! Arrius adds, any boy in Rome would give his ears to serve under Julius Caesar.

As Petronius talks of when they’re on parade with Caesar’s at the head of the column of soldiers, his face shone with admiration and the leathery look softened when saying ‘Caesar’. Jason hesitates, the centurion’s words trumpeting inside him, but he remembered what’d happened in Egypt. Arrius says, when in doubt ask for an omen; army regulations. Petronius nods and says, in the legion they usually consult the sacred pigeons. He won’t chase after pigeons here; anyhow, it’s a job for an expert. Well, he’ll try something. Let’s have this shield, Arrius.

He unslings his shield and hands it over, Petronius throwing his coat aside and dropping to one knee, and says, O Mars, god of battles, mighty Jupiter, father of the gods or whatever it is the regimental augur says. Shall this boy and cat march with us? He grips the shield and holds it out flat in front of him continuing, give us a sign. Gareth leaped from Jason’s arms and landed in the center of the shield, he having been watching the centurion with interest. Arrius cheered and tossed his helmet in the air.

The centurion raised the shield high in triumph with Gareth standing balanced on it, his tail like a banner, and with a special curl o his whiskers which Jason knew, meant he was feeling exceptionally pleased. Petronius asks, how’s this for an omen? The cat answers for himself! Arrius says, he’ll be proud he followed Caesar’s eagles, this is honor, courage… Petronius adds, not artichokes! Come on, boy, we can’t keep Caesar waiting. The Old Cats move fast!

During the journey from Rome to Gaul, Jason couldn’t decide which was worse: the tossing ship, powered by sails and oarsmen, or the cold marches through the forests once they’d landed. Gareth had no difficulties at all, carrying his tail straight as a legionary’s spear, with his lean, brisk walk and determined arch of his neck, he seemed, to Jason, quite Roman. Gareth says, he enjoys a comfortable bed, but if there’s none around, it doesn’t matter, any bed is soft to a cat. Jason soon gets used to camp life, and by the time the Old Cats reached the western coast of Gaul, he could stride along with the best of them. 

The Company joined the rest of Caesar’s legions in a great encampment and from there, Caesar would lead the army across a narrow stretch of water to Britannica, a land even wilder than Gaul. Petronius explains, but until he gives the orders, we’ve got a lot of work to do. From dawn to sunset, Petronius and the other centurions drilled the legionaries in forming up in squares, throwing javelins, running, jumping, thrusting swords at stakes planted in the ground. Too young for military duties - outside of cleaning breastplates and looking after the Company’s baggage - Jason, with Gareth at his side, sat on the far edge of the flat clay field. 

Petronius’ shouts of command carry through the chilly air. Gareth watches the drill with interest and says, these Romans know their business, it’s worth seeing. Practice makes the difference. If he really wants to be professional, he’s got to stick to it. They practice all the time. Gareth stood and rippled his muscles, making Jason think of someone rolling up his sleeves before getting down to work. Gareth continues, unless he knew, he might think they’re only playing. They aren’t, being a cat is a serious thing; watch. 

He flicks his tail emphatically, then lunges forward, pouncing hard, seizing a blade of grass with both front paws. Jason calls, he’s seen him do this when he’s playing with a catnip mouse. Gareth corrects, practicing for a real one. It’s the easiest kind of catch for anything on the ground; here’s a difficult one. Balanced on 3 legs, Gareth curved one forepaw, faster than Jason’s eye could follow, the cat scoops at the earth, and several mud clods bounced up in the air. 

Gareth explains, this is for something in the water; one has to move fast, and keep on scooping til one fishes it out. Without warning, Gareth leaps straight up, his front paws stretched above his head. As he leaped, he spun and landed facing Jason, saying, this is for anything in the air. These are the 3 simplest catches, but there’s so much more: hunting positions, stalking positions, fighting positions. 

Jason replies, he didn’t know it was so hard to be a cat. Gareth says, practice, practice, remember this. The Romans had finished their drill, shoulder pieces flashing, his face streaked with sweat and grime, Petronius saunters over to the edge of the clay field and waved his sword in greeting. He calls, ho, there! What is he doing, playing with his cat? 

Jason nods and smiles to himself. In the evening it seemed Jason had barely gone to sleep before Petronius shook him to get up. His face was tense, the scar on his forehead shone in the torchlight, painfully white and new-looking. In a hushed voice he says, they’re going over now; here, put this on. 

He drapes a cloak over Jason’s shoulders. For a moment, he held Jason close to him, then Petronius suddenly turns brusque and warlike, shouting at the legionaries. Jason wrapped part of the cloak around Gareth as a carrying sling: Jason had no time to be scared, within moments the Old Cats formed up in ranks, with shields and swords ready, gripping their light throwing spears. Petronius gave a command and, with the rest of the legion, the Company moved toward the boats on the shore.

Jason first makes out Britannica’s chalky cliffs, jagged with figures of men at full morning, sunless and cold. As they get closer, Jason sees they hold spears, and it was then he started to feel chilly, and even Gareth’s fur against his side didn’t warm him. The Old Cats crouch in the rocking boat faces turned toward the cliffs. Petronius picks his way to where Jason sat huddled in his cloak and gives him wink and rubs Gareth’s chin. 

Petronius says, nothing to fear, be over before he knew it, then he’ll see how the Old Cats celebrate a victory. From the moment the craft scraped the pebbly beach, Jason was caught up in the mass of legionaries jumping over the side, splashing to higher ground. The Britons swarmed down the cliffs, yelling savagely. Jason stumbled on the rocks, clutching Gareth, then raced ahead, trying to keep up with Petronius and the Old Cats.

Arrows sang through the air and legionaries hurled their spears. Howling and shrieking, the Britons poured across the beach. Then something Jason had never seen before appeared: small, rickety chariots darting in and out of the clusters of men. Drivers reigned up the shaggy ponies, warriors leaped down, attacked sharply, and raced back, in a flash the drivers wheeled and the ponies galloped away.

Even the well-trained legionaries could barely hold their ground against them, and a wedge of shouting Britons cut Jason off from the Old Cats. Holding Gareth under the cloak, Jason dashes further down the beach to circle around and rejoin the Company, but the Britons covered this part of the ground and Jason found himself forced toward a fringe of scrubby trees. A Briton charioteer sights him, and spun his pony, and started pursuit. Jason scrambles higher up the bank, plunging into the woods and running blindly, going deeper as branches whipped his face. 

A root trips him and he sprawls on the damp leaves. Jason gasping, they’re lost, they’ll never get back to the Company. Gareth springs to the low limb of a tree and says, he can track their way out. He stands motionless, head cocked a little to one side and continues, but not now. They’re still fighting on the beach. They’d better wait til after dark. 

Catching his breath, Jason collapsed on a boulder and says, he doesn’t care what Petronius says, it’s a lot quieter being an artichoke, and as far as being a mascot goes… he stops short, Gareth had started to bristle. From the corner of his eye, Jason saw another animal crouching near the tree. It looked very much like a cat, but a little bigger than Gareth, with long, shaggy hair. Its eyes were round and bright yellow; its body gray and stripy; tufts grew from the tips of its ears. 

The cat started a long whine, ending with a snarling, toothy kind of cough, then it leaped. Gareth grapples with the animal in mid-air, 2 bodies thrashing on the ground and turning into a spinning, spitting ball. One screamed, Jason unable to tell which, Gareth rolls into the bushes locked to his opponent. Jason runs to the spot as they crash into the woods, he hearing the ripping of leaves. 

Jason cries out, Gareth! Forcing his way through the bushes, then flinging himself back against a tree. In front of him stood a bearded man dressed in skins, holding a long, ugly spear pointed at Jason’s throat, and looking as scared as Jason, but since he was the one with the spear, Jason could only do as he ordered. The Briton cautiously steps up to the tree and gestures for Jason to move away from it. 

They head deeper into the forest, soon the path widening, ahead lay a clearing, in its center a log enclosure banked with earth. A gate of logs open so the Briton and Jason could enter the village. It was mainly a row of huts, something like beehives of twigs and mud. Inside, Jason’s captor shook his spear in the air and shouted triumphantly. 

Other men wrapped in shaggy skins ran into the rutted street, some hungry-looking dogs immediately started yelping and barking. By the time Jason reached the largest hut, the whole village was following at his heels. A tall warrior with reddish hair down to his shoulders came out of the hut and stood with his arms folded across his chest, a handsome silver collar piece hung at his throat. An enormous red mustache drooped under his bony nose and made his face appear very warlike and melancholy at the same time.

The man with the spear raises his voice, Cerdic Longtooth! Mighty chieftain! Know that he, Osric, with his bare hands captured this ignorant and highly dangerous savage! All day they struggled! Never was there such a battle! Osric continues, stamping up and down, brandishing his spear sorely wounded, still he fought on. At last, his natural cowardice betrayed him and he conquered. O great is Osric! Mighty is Osric! Jason, wretched with dampness, exhausted from the march, finally lost his patience and cries, this isn’t true, they did’t struggle all day, there wasn’t any struggle at all. He jumped out at him with this spear, and he’s not ignorant or a savage! Another warrior steps up and whispers something in the chieftain’s ear. 

Longtooth nods glumly, then raises his head and points his mustache at Jason. Longtooth says, there’s a question come up, usually when they catch somebody from beyond the woods, they simply chop them up, but he’s an invader, and some of them have suggested it might be more correct to burn him in a basket and he rather agrees. Osric, go fetch the basket. From the hut a woman in a coarse woven robe appears, pushes Longtooth aside and shakes a finger at him, saying, he’ll do nothing of the kind, Cerdic Longtooth. She doesn’t care who he is, he’s only a boy and he’s chilled to the bone. Bring him inside right away, now march! She takes Jason by the shoulders and leads him through the door into a room where a fire of twigs billowed out smoke.

Cerdic Longtooth follows, grumbling loudly, he’s supposed to plead for his life now, this is the next step. He doesn’t see why she has to interfere with these things. There’s a right way and wrong way. The woman replies, pack of nonsense. He may be a foreigner and a savage, but this isn’t his fault and she’s quite sure he’s done no harm. While she rubbed Jason with a dry cloth, she directed a continuous stream of talk at her husband. If Longtooth would ever look farther than his nose, she said, he’d see this was a good chance to have a slave young enough to train. 

Longtooth cries, enough, woman, enough; holding his head, continuing, he’ll speak to the Druid about it in the morning. If he says they can keep the savage, they’ll keep him. Mrs. Longtooth agrees, and it’s decided Jason would be locked in the storeroom for the night. Mrs Longtooth gave him a pot of stewed meat and an animal skin. Cerdic, acting as though Jason might attack him at any moment, pushes him into the dark room and jammed the door shut. 

Jason flings himself on the ground, too exhausted even to think of trying to escape. Then he feels a soft paw on his arm and hears a familiar trill of recognition, Jason saying, Gareth! Is he all right? Gareth warns, not so loud, as he hops onto Jason’s lap, continuing, yes, he’s fine, couple scratches, a little fur lost here and there. He’s been through worse. Jason asks what the terrible animal was, never seeing one like it. 

Gareth replies, a wildcat, the only kind of cat they have here. Jason says, what a fighter, he was scared he might… Gareth interrupts, she, and she was scared, more than anything else. It was quite a scuffle til she realized both of them were cats, and she apologized afterward. Then they got along very well, she telling him about Longtooth’s tribe. He got here faster than he did, and climbed through a broken place in the roof. Jason asks if there’s any way they can get out, Gareth suggesting he could scratch open the roof some more, but they wouldn’t be any better off. They’d never get to the back in time. You see, the Romans are leaving. 

Jason swallows hard and asks, the Old Cats? Everybody? What can they do now? Gareth replies, they’ll have to stay here somehow. Jason says, does he think they’ll let us? Longtooth’s wife was very kind and wants to keep him for a slave, but Longtooth wants to burn him in the basket. The Druid, whoever this is, will decide, and what about him? Will he live in the woods? Gareth replies, he might not have to; these Britons are like big children. They make up stories about things. The way they’d like them to happen. Whether it really happened this way doesn’t matter, and he thinks this might help them, but they’ll talk about it in the morning. 

Jason and Gareth made themselves as comfortable as they could on the animal skin, pressing close to one another for warmth. This, Jason decides, was the dampest place he’d ever been in. He couldn’t imagine why it ever interested the Romans, and he thought sadly of all the Company, of Petronius, Arrius, the friends he’d never meet again. Next morning, Gareth had just finished telling Jason his plan when the storeroom door opened. 

Longtooth peers in, behind him his wife and a white-haired, white-bearded man in a long robe. As soon as Longtooth caught sight of Gareth, sitting on Jason’s shoulder, the warrior tumbled back and bellowed, Osric! Osric! Wild beasts! My spear! Jason shouts, stop! Know he, Jason, has conquered the blackest, fiercest animal in Britain! Great is his power over him! See his claws, his teeth! Yes he touches him without harm! Jason held out an arm toward Longtooth. 

Gareth slowly walked down the arm and stopped, perched there. He raised his head and stared with orange eyes at the warrior. Jason continues, all night they struggled, great is the power of Jason! The Druid craning his neck to see past Longtooth, says, he can believe this. It’s a very ferocious-looking animal. Something like those catamountains in the woods - and one can’t even get near them. Amazing, the savage does seem to have a kind of power over it. 

Longtooth asks, what he wants to know, Druid, is this animal good luck or bad? The Druid replies, some of our best families, pray to the spirit of the catamountain, but this is the first time anyone has ever been, shall we say, visited by one. So he should think it’d be very good luck, so long as the animal behaves itself. Longtooth says, Druid, he’d like to make him a present of this lucky animal. He can have its keeper, too. The Druid answers, well, really, he appreciates his thought, but his duties in the tribe take up so much time. No Longtooth, as our war leader it’d be more proper for he to look after them both. As a matter of fact, he gives him official responsibility. It’s quite an honor, Longtooth, to have such an animal. 

Longtooth answers glumly, yes, he rather thought he’d see it this way. Cerdic Longtooth looks more melancholy than ever, Mrs Longtooth, on the otherhand, is delighted. Gareth, after investigating the hut, discovers the place is overrun with mice. Within the week, the mice vanished. 

Mrs Longtooth cries, a jewel! This catamountain’s a jewel! She’s not surprised the Druid called him lucky. Why, she’d have lost half their winter stores without him! Word spread Longtooth’s ferocious black animal was protecting their food. Each day, at least half a dozen visitors stopped by to admire Gareth - from a safe distance. Even the Druid himself came to call. 

After this, Cerdic started watching Gareth with pride. One evening Jason happened to find a length of cord and pulled it across the dirt floor while Gareth romped after the end, rolling over, batting the string with his paws. Cerdic asks, what’s he doing this for? Jason says, just for fun, he’s playing. He does it to keep in practice too. 

Longtooth got up and walked cautiously toward the cat and says, he’s a quick one isn’t he? Then hesitantly adds, does he think he’d do it with him? Jason replies, he could try. The Briton kneels on the floor and picks up the cord. 

Gareth pounces at it and Cerdic starts to laugh, as gleeful as a child. From then on, Cerdic could hardly wait for another chance to play with Gareth. Each evening after dinner, the warrior would pick up the cord and call the cat. When the cord wore out, Cerdic unfastened his own collar piece and dragged the chain along the ground. 

Still, Cerdic hadn’t gotten up the courage to touch Gareth. Although he’d often seen the cat sit on Jason’s lap, Longtooth insisting it was dangerous. Jason says, it’s not dangerous at all. Here… Before the warrior could protest, Jason lifted Gareth to Cerdic’s knees, he sitting rigidly and not daring to move. 

Longtooth says nervously, he’s making a noise, he thinks he’s getting ready to bite. Jason says, he’s purring, this means he’s pleased and likes him. Longtooth asks hopefully, likes him? Does he really think so? In answer, Gareth stretches up his neck and rubs his head against the warrior’s mustache. 

Longtooth cries, by the Druid’s beard! He believes he does like him! The tall warrior, smiling, held Gareth on his lap and stroked him until it was time for them all to go to sleep. Winter came early, snow drifting high and the village settled in on itself. Jason had almost grown used to the climate, and found the hut snug and cozy - even though Cerdic had never got round to fixing the hole in the storeroom roof. 

Once Jason thought he caught a glimpse of the wildcat. Gareth confirms when they were alone, yes, she’s out there, and terribly hungry, too. Jason promised to save some meat from his dinner and put it near the hut. The white days passed quietly, and Mrs. Longtooth looked after the hut, with Jason often giving her a hand (she’d quite forgotten he was supposed to be a slave). 

Cerdic polished his weapons and, when he got through, started polishing them all over again. Often, Gareth would jump to Cerdic’s lap and drowse there, and the warrior would beam happily. One day, just before sundown, Mrs Longtooth went to the storeroom, and moments later flew back into the hut, saying, a catamountain! There’s another one! Cerdic, Jason, and Gareth run to the storeroom. 

It was true, the wildcat lay curled on a heap of skins, and watched them with solemn yellow eyes. Only then did they notice she wasn’t alone. 4 tiny kittens nestled at her side. Mrs Longtooth saying, the poor thing. It must’ve been so cold for her. 

Longtooth says, amazing, these catamountains don’t look half as wild in here as they do outside. The warrior drew closer and the wildcat hissed a little, warning him away from the kittens. He says, don’t worry, old girl, she’ll stay here as long as she pleases. Mrs. Longtooth adds, exclaiming, and the little ones. They have their eyes shut so tight. Will they ever be as lucky as our animal? 

Longtooth replies, they’ll be fine. While Cerdic and his wife admired the kittens, Jason and Gareth walk quietly away. Jason asks, does he really think they’ll stay? Gareth replies, he believes so. Oh, they’ll never forget the wilds, no cat does. They may even go back now and again, but this is a new start for them. 

The door of the hut had come unlatched and was standing half-open. Gareth went toward it, Jason glancing back to see Longtooth and his wife still bent over the new arrivals. The kittens, Jason recalled, were tawny, with dark stripes. All but one, and this one was black with a white mark on its chest. Gareth, like a shadow, leaps onto the hard snow crust outside, Jason’s shadow following him.

Ireland 411 A.D. 

They’d left Britain far behind, here, in Ireland, a girl stood on a cluster of rocks. Red-gold hair tossed about her shoulders, reaching the belt of gold at her waist. Behind her rose the hills, iron black, brine green. She was Jason’s age, tall, slim, with tiny feet in sandals. 

The girl doesn’t seem at all surprised; as soon as she notices Jason and Gareth, she runs forward lightly, her blue eyes sparking, and starts talking as if she has no intention of stopping. In an accent more like singing than speaking she says a little breathlessly, her name is Diahan, what’s his? Before Jason could answer, she hurries on, saying, her father is King Miliucc, is his father a king? Would it be him, the son of King Mogh of the Mighty Arm? Then he must tell his father to send back all the cows, especially the red one - she’s her favorite. If he doesn’t, we’ll come and take them and all of his, too. Without taking a breath, the girl bent and looked closely at Gareth saying, but she never heard of Mogh having a dog like this. He must be no good at all against a wolf. Jason managed finally to interrupt and replies, he isn’t scared of wolves and he isn’t a dog, he’s a cat. 

Diahan asks, a cat? Why of course, he’s a cat. Jason asks, then why did she call him a dog? Diahan says, she meant cat, the other slipped out. Is he saying she wouldn’t know a dog when she sees one? Jason says, she may know what a dog is but he doesn’t think she’s very sure about cats. 

Diahan purses her lips saying, it’s not polite of his to say this. She couldn’t resist talking again and says, she doesn’t think he’s Moth’s boy at all, and this isn’t a cat at all. 

Jason says, he’s not King Moth’s boy and never told her he was, but this is a cat, no matter what she says. Diahan stamps her foot and says, she says he’s a stupid boy. Everybody knows cats are bigger than this. The one which carried off Seanchan, the greatest poet in Erin, was big as an ox. This is what Dubthatch says, and he’s always right. Jason sat down on the rock and started to laugh. He says, he doesn’t know any of the men she’s mentioned, but there’s no cat in the world as big as an ox. 

Diahan asks, then if he wasn’t as big as this, how could he carry off Seanchan? Subthach is a poet, too, and he must know what happens to other poets. Jason shakes his head and says, cats don’t carry off people. This is one thing they don’t do. Diahan put her hands on her hips and looks sharply at him and says, if he’s such a wise boy, tell her what they can do. Jason lists off, they can climb trees and see in the dar, they can purr and catch rats and… 

Diahan asks, catch rats? We’ve something better for rats. We have Lugad. Jason asks, what’s a lugad. Diahan giggles, not what’s a Lugad; who’s a Lugad. He’s the magician at her father’s court. All he needs to do is cast a spell, and the rats and all the creepy, crawly things go away. Or so he says, can his cat work magic? Jason starts, in a way…

Diahan brightens, of course! He could wish himself big as an ox. She knew Dubthach couldn’t be wrong. Come now! She took Jason’s hand and jumps from the rock, and says, he must show his magic cat to her father, and especially to Lugad. Diahan skips in front of them all the way down the valley, and without her as a guide, Jason was sure he’d have walked right through the center of Miliucc’s kingdom. He saw only a cluster of day-and-wattle huts and a pen with 4 very thin pigs drowsing in it. 

A small herd of cows ambled by, driven by a young, dark-haired man with a staff. Diahan calls as soon as she spies the cowherd, Sucat! Sucat! Here’s something this boy calls a cat. Is it really one? He should know. Catching sight of Gareth, Sucat drops to one knee and held out his hands, and to Jason’s surprise, sees Gareth bound ahead and jump to the man’s lap. Sucat put his cheek against Gareth’s shoulder and says, yes, little princess, this is a cat. He’s not seen one for 6 years, but he’s not forgotten.

He asks with a smile, and what did she make him out to be? One of her father’s wolfhounds? Diahan pouts, this is twice today she’s been laughed at. It’s not her fault if she thought a cat should be bigger, besides, he’s a magic cat, he’ll cast a spell and get as big as an ox if he’s not careful. Sucat sighs and shakes a finger gently at the girl saying, now, little princess, how many times has he told her? There are no magic beasts, only God’s creatures as she sees them, and no spells worth the saying of them. Diahan toes the ground uneasily with the tip of her sandal and says, she knows this is what he says, but Lugad says…

Sucat raises his head sharply and his eyes flashed, interrupting, Lugad is a porridge-headed fool! Diahan claps a hand to her mouth and then giggles, this is a terrible thing to say. He does look like one though, but she hopes he never hears him call him this. Sucat smiles saying, Lugad doesn’t scare him, let him think about his name. In Britain they called him Patrick, but his real name’s Sucat. It means Good Cat - and it means Good Warrior. For in his land, the land of Wales, we call our warriors Cats. Jason asks, he comes from Wales? But this must be far… 

Sucat replies, far and across the water. He looks Jason up and down and adds, something tells him he, too, is a stranger. Jason replies, we’ve come a long way. Sucat says, then we must talk, we 2 strangers, and he must grant him the pleasure of holding this handsome cat on his knees from what Princess Diahan says, he can guess with no trouble this isn’t a land of cats.

He goes on with a wry smile, although, it’s a land of many other things. Watching Sucat, Jason had the feeling this man, with his black hair and broad forehead, was only playing at being a cowherd. He wasn’t big or heavily muscled, but Jason had seen fire in Sucat’s eyes when he spoke of Lugad. In his face, the turn of his head, there’d been a kind of power at rest - much the way Gareth looked when he was sleeping, with his legs stretched out, as limp as water - yet Jason knew Gareth could be on his feet in a moment the springs of his lean body coiled tight and ready. 

Jason thinks, Sucat could do the same. Diahan, who’d been silent longer than any time Jason had met her, finally interrupted, enough chattering! All he wants to do is talk and he doesn’t give her a word for herself, and she the one who found the magic cat in the first place. Diahan took Jason by the hand and led him away, she saying, if he wants the truth, Lugad is a porridge-head. Her father isn’t pleased with him at all. Oh, Lugad is very clever at big things - making the sun come up at his command and all this, but he really isn’t good at the small ones. The village is still full of rats and snakes. Of course, Lugad says they’re just the spirits of the rats and snakes; he says he got rid of the real ones long ago. She doesn’t know. Diahan shakes her head and continues, there’s not a season passes they don’t ruin half our stores. If they’re spirits - wisha! They have marvelous great appetites. They eat as much as the real ones! 

Inside a tall, raftered house, with bronze decorations at the gates, Diahan presented Jason to her father, a barrel-chested, red-bearded warrior with gold ornaments on his arms and a royal cloak of 7 colors over his bare shoulders. The lean, quizzical-looking man holding a harp was the poet Dubthach, Jason guessed. There could be no mistaking Lugad, a heavy, waddling fellow, completely bald, with eyes like sour blueberries. When Diahan told King Miliucc Jason and his cat were magicians, the warrior slapped the table. 

He cries, this is what we need, some new magic from afar. Sometimes, he’s thinking, his spells are a little worn at the edges, Lugad. The cat magician twiddled his fingers and muttered in a peculiar way. Jason didn’t know whether or not it was a spell, but it sounded very insulting. King Miliucc gave Jason and Gareth the hospitality which custom demanded for any stranger, especially 2 wandering magicians.

Jason’s room in the palace had a great bed and soft feather cushions, but at night, he couldn’t settle himself. Diahan’s talk of spells, of cats as big as oxen kept running through his mind; as well as the red-gold hair of Diahan. Restless, Jason and Gareth quietly leave the room and stroll through the silver moonlight to the edge of the village, to the fringe of gnarled trees, bent and twisted like ancient magicians dancing. Jason asks, but who are these people? They reminded him a little of Cerdic Longtooth and the Druid, except they knew how to make things better. Cerdic would have loved a few of King Miliucc’s armbands. 

Gareth says, he’s right, in a way. These Irish have their own kind of druids, and they’ve been here for thousands of years. The story goes there was a wild warrior people living north of Greece. They were a small part of an enormous tribe called the Celts, and they moved down and stayed with the Egyptians for a while; then they went to Spain; and finally, ended up on this island. Other people were living here, but the Celtic warriors drove them off, they still think their spirits live under the hills. They call them the Little People. Jason asks, were there any cats? Gareth says, no, the warriors got to know about cats long ago in Egypt, but they never had any of their own. They’ve forgotten what a real cat is like so they’ve made up fairy tales about them. It’s a way of remembering. Jason laughs saying, they certainly remembered wrong. 

Something in the pool of moonlight caught Gareth’s attention. Without another word he slid forward, perhaps it was a cricket or a beetle, Jason couldn’t tell; perhaps Gareth was only practicing again, but the cat leaped high in the pale silver beams. The night dew sparkled around him. Here at the edge of the gnarled trees, with Gareth dancing like a wild, mysterious creature, Jason could almost see the Little People of Erin rising from the grass to watch.

As Gareth’s sinew body turned, as the moon flickered white in the cat’s eyes, Jason, in spite of himself, shivered with a delightful kind of scariness. When the cat finishes his game or hunting practice, he pads back to Jason. Neither speak, the spell of the land of Erin hanging over both of them, like cobwebs of gold. In silence, they walked slowly back to King Miliucc’s palace. Jason once glances behind him, half-expecting to see a band of Little People following him.

A scream broke the spell, it Diahan’s voice. Jason races through the empty hall to sleeping chambers, Gareth bounding ahead of him. Diahan was sitting upright in the low bed, her eyes wide with terror. In the center of the floor, cold moonlight like a sheet of ice over its scales, a serpent was poised ready to strike. 

Jason freezes where he stood, the only movement in the room being the black arrow of Gareth leaping forward. Before the serpent could strike, Gareth catches it behind its flat skull. The serpent’s tail lashes out and winds around Gareth’s body. The fighters rolled over and over across the floor. 

Gareth was on his back now, his hind paws furiously kicking. Once the serpent tries to raise itself as if to smash Gareth against the floor. Gareth hangs on with tooth and claw, the serpent thrashing a circle around the chamber. Jason catches his breath as he sees Gareth tumble head over tail. 

For an instant the serpent almost shakes itself free, but Gareth still grips its neck. Suddenly it was over and the serpent went as lifeless as a piece of rope. Even then, Gareth doesn’t loosen his jaws, and with eyes blazing, he crouches, moaning and growling. As Jason saw him at this moment, Gareth was a wild creature of the forest once again, a creature of slashing claws and sharp teeth, victorious over a deadly enemy. 

Torchlight floods the room and in the doorway stands King Miliucc, his red hair flying about his head, a sword in his fist. Behind him crowded the palace guard, Diahan, who’d been too scared even to whimper during the fight, bursts into tears. While King Miliucc comforts his daughter, Jason runs toward Gareth, he shaking himself from his shoulders to the tip of his tail, then blinking up at Jason. Gareth drops the serpent with a disdainful toss of his head and very calmly starts to wash. 

Still puffy with sleep, looking more like a porridge than ever, Lugad rolls into the chamber, asking, what’s this? A nightmare? Is this all? The girl’s been sleeping in the moonlight. Miliucc, picking up the limp body of the serpent and thrusting it at Lugad, roars, nightmare! He’ll nightmare him? Does he call this moonlight? Lugad places at the serpent distastefully and says, an evil spirit if he ever saw one. King Miliucc turns redder than his hair and says, wisha, man! If he wraps this around his neck and pulls a little, he’d not call it a spirit! 

Lugad peevishly, looking down his nose at Miliucc and at the same time moving away a little - just in case the King had any intention of carrying out his threat, saying, this is the ghost of a serpent. He doesn’t know how many times he has to tell him, he’s driven the real ones away. Miliucc cries, then, he means to say, standing there with his great bald head, a daughter of his has been in danger of her life from the bite of a ghost? Lugad shrugs and says, this is the way of it with ghosts, but pay no mind, he’ll put a spell on the chamber and she’ll have no more danger this night. Miliucc shouts, cast his spells on the wind for all the good they do. Why, this little black cat here has more power in one whisker than he has in this barrel of fat!

Lugad raises his hand in the air and says, beware! Tis death to mock a magician! Miliucc, with a sour grin replies, true, but if he’s as much magician as he thinks he is, he’ll have no fear! Lugad snorts, turns on his heel, and pushes his way out of the chamber. King Miliucc turns to Jason and Gareth and says, they shall sit at his right hand. The finest smith in Erin shall make thrones of silver for them. The harp of Dubthach shall sing of a magician greater than Lugad. 

Next day, Miliucc indeed seated Jason and Gareth on silver thrones and Dubthach sang song after song of praise. Diahan looked at Jason admiringly, while Lugad, banished to the far end of the table in the draughts and smoke, muttered angrily to himself. This wasn’t all, the King asked Jason and Gareth to stay and be his court magicians. Jason starts, but they can’t… he doesn’t understand… 

Miliucc cries, wisha! He understands magic when he sees it! It’s settled then! He turns away and listened to none of Jason’s protests. After the meal, as they were leaving the hall, Diahan came to walk beside Jason and says, in an excited whisper, she heard what her father said. Isn’t it wonderful? He’ll be much better than Lugad. His magic is so weary and dreary. Jason says in despair, she doesn’t understand either. He’s not a magician either and neither is Gareth. 

She says, he said he was. Jason replies, yes, but not the kind she means, he can’t explain anymore. Diahan nods knowingly and says, of course, of course, it’s not wise for a magician to boast of his skill. The Little People might hear and be jealous. Jason says, it isn’t the Little People… 

Diahan puts a finger to Jason’s lips and says, sst! Sst! Don’t mention their name or we’ll have a plague of them! Jason says, he’s not worried about this, he’s worried about what to tell her father. He just won’t listen to him. Diahan warns, if he refuses, he’ll be furious and for the matter of this, so will she. She flashes her eyes at him and continues, if he won’t be court magician instead of this silly Lugad, she’ll not speak to him again! 

Jason left Diahan at the palace still wondering what to tell Miliucc, making his way to the cow pen to find Sucat. He was sitting on the top rail of the enclosure and waves at him, bent down, and picks up Gareth and holding him in his lap. Sucat listens carefully while Jason tells him the problem. Sucat says, he thinks he’s right, there can be only trouble if he or his cat start playing magician. Better leave all this business to Lugad. 

Jason asks, but didn’t he say his spells were useless? Sucat agrees, his spells are, but not his knowledge. The thing he must understand about these magicians is this: they really need a great deal. They know the stars, how to figure the seasons; they know farming and planting, all the ways of the woods and animals. Some of them can even put a man to sleep just by looking him in the eye. The trouble comes when they try to pretend they work by magic instead of by nature. Lugad is a fool, he wants people to believe in the magic part of what he does, because then they’ll stay scared of him. It’s a way of keeping his job, and he can’t blame him too much. It’s a shame, though, if he’d been living in Britain now, he might’ve made a fine, learned man. We have the Christian faith in his land and he could’ve had an education from the church as he had, but there’s none of this in Erin, only magic and superstition and the Little People under every blade of grass. No, this is far from Britain, he finishes with a sigh. Jason asks, if Britain is civilized now, why did he come here? Sucat smiles sadly, saying, come? He didn’t come, boy; he was taken. He shall always remember the night King Niall of the Nine Hostages raided our coast. There were 3 of us in the house: himself and 2 sisters. They took us all, to sell as slaves. Oh, he was a fighter in those days, but they were too many. They tied us up, carried us to the boat, and sailed away. His sisters are in Erin, somewhere, he prays they still live. Miliucc bought him to herd his cows, this was 6 years ago. 

Jason asks, why doesn’t he escaped? They never seem to lock him up. Sucat replies, when the time comes, he may go from this place, but look, this idea’s in his head: underneath it all there’s some purpose, some reason he should be here. What it may be is hidden from him now. When he understands it, perhaps then he shall go, or perhaps he shall stay. Sucat is silent after this, his face lost in a dream, his deep-set eyes looking far past Jason toward the hills. Finally, Jason spoke, he still doesn’t know what to do about Miliucc. 

Sucat says, the King? Oh, as far as this goes, do nothing at all. Miliucc changes his mind from one moment to the next, and he doesn’t remember half of what he says. Right now he’s angry at Lugad because of the serpent, but Miliucc always agrees with the last person who talks to him. Lugad is a clever one; he’ll work him around. So his advice is just stay out of it and he’ll forget the whole thing. Jason realizes, Sucat was quite right, in the hall, at the next meal, Lugad had his old place at the table. Lugad and the King earnestly talked back and forth, paying no attention to anyone else. Diahan was so annoyed at Jason’s letting his opportunity slip she refused to speak to him, except to remind him several times, she wasn’t speaking to him.

Lugad busied himself with preparations for the Midsummer Fires, ordering parties of men to carry straw and wood to the mountaintop. The Fires, Jason learns, were supposed to guarantee a good harvest for the village. A lot of spells had to be cast over them, and Lugad was making a very grand thing of it, Jason and Gareth completely forgotten. Sucat, when Jason speaks to him again, asks, see what he means? There’s no need of magic fires for a good crop. If the farmers plant their seed as they should and the weather holds, the harvest will be good. 

Sucat shrugs and continues, if not, no fire on earth can help them. If they’d pay more attention to the rats eating their grain they’d be better off. Jason says, Gareth could help with the rats, he’s done it every place he’s been and he’s very good at it. Sucat replies, there’s only one of him; 100 cats would hardly be enough, every village in Erin has the same trouble, and it can only get worse. There’ll soon be famines and starvation such as no man can remember. Then what good will Lugad and his fires be? Jason agrees, but at night when the fires were lit, he also had to admit he’d never seen such a blaze.

The whole mountaintop flamed, Jason, Sucat, and Gareth perched on the cowpea railing to watch the ragged sheets of orange scorch the black night. Soon, the fires of the neighboring villages appeared on other hilltops. The fires had hardly started when Jason saw Diahan running toward the pen. Her face was scratched with brambles, her white robe torn. 

Sucat jumped down and hurried to meet her, calling, little princess, he thought she was in the hills with her father. Diahan gasps, she was but she had to get away. It’s terrible what they’re going to do, it was Lugar’s idea… she starts to sob. Sucat took her by the shoulders and says, calm herself, what’s this she says about Lugad? Diahan says, he’s been talking to her father, and Lugad still says all the serpents and rats are ghosts… ad he says the only way to get rid of them is to send another ghost after them. 

Sucat says angrily, he should’ve known Lugad would think of something like this. Diahan’s lips trembled and says, he wants to send 2 ghosts, the ghosts of a boy - and a cat! Sucat says grimly, he doesn’t need to guess who the boy and cat might be. Diahan turns to Jason and says, he must go, he dare not wait. Lugad’s coming down now with his men, they want to wrap them both up in leaves and throw them in the fire. 

She hurries on and says, Sucat, he must show them the path through the woods. Quickly! And he must not come back, if Lugad ever found out he helped them escape, he’d have him killed. Sucat asks, but what about her, little princess? Diahan proudly says, she’s her father’s daughter. Lugad wouldn’t dare to harm her. Only hurry! It’ll be too late! Diahan takes Jason’s arm and says, farewell to him, boy - and this dog or cat, or whatever he calls it. 

The princess hastily kissed him on the cheek, and as she lowered her eyes, Jason saw tears on the long lashes and she whispers, she didn’t mean what she said about not speaking to him, and she’s not happy to see him go. By dawn, Jason, Gareth, and Sucat were well into the forest and far beyond the reach of Lugad. They’d walked most of the night in silence. Sucat had been wrapped in his own thoughts, and Jason, to his surprise, found himself missing the golden-haired Diahan. 

Sucat was the first to speak, saying, it’s a curious thing but he has come to love this country, even as a slave. Perhaps this was the reason for his captivity, he should learn to know Erin and its people and to love them, he understood now what he must do. He shall go into the world, perhaps even as far as Rome itself. He shall learn and bring back what he learns. There shall be no need for magicians then. Jason asks, what about the serpents and rats? Sucat replies, the serpents of war and ignorance are worse than those which creep along the ground. These serpents are the ones he shall drive out, and as far as the rats are concerned… he smiles, reaches down and pats Gareth, continuing, he shall bring some of the little creatures with him. The travelers stopped in a clearing, and Sucat strikes a flint, making a small fire of twigs, and saying, rest now, they’ve a long journey.

Sucat stretches out beside the fire and soon falls asleep, still wakeful, Jason and Gareth wander toward the fringe of trees. Jason says, it’s strong, the way Sucat was talking, he made him think of someone else… it was a saint… Gareth asks, someone else? No. There’s only one man like Sucat. Doesn’t he remember, Sucat told him he had another name? It’s Patrick. The fire burns out, and from the embers one last flame and wisp of smoke rose to the sunlight. 

Japan 998 A.D. 

Jason blinks his eyes, only an instant before he and Gareth had been in a forest of Erin, now, in a street in Japan, an old man with a wispy mustache and narrow white beard is calling to them from a sedan chair, insistently saying, come! Enter quickly! Enter! Enter! The old man, whose face was the color of a very pale lemon, seizes Jason by the wrist and pulls him in. From the outside, the sedan chair looks like a fancy box carried between 2 poles; inside, Jason felt he was riding in a tiny, spicy-smelling cabin. The man, who introduces himself as Sun-Cheng, says, forgive this humble personage, but it surprised him to see a cat in the Imperial City. There aren’t any more, are there?, he asks, anxiously.

Jason says he doesn’t know, they just got here themselves, but he hasn’t seen any. Sun-Cheng pulls a little paper fan from his embroidered sleeve and started fanning himself rapidly and says, what a relief! He’d promised the Emperor Ichigo something which couldn’t be found in all of Japan, and with emperors, promise nothing one can’t deliver. As they jogged along, Sun-Cheng explains he was a merchant and trader, and wasn’t Japanese but Chinese, and journeyed to Kyoto, the Imperial City, once a year. He continues the Emperor is never satisfied, always something new. 

He shakes his head and pointing to a large, red lacquered box with holes in the lid, says, this time, it’ll truly be a most honourable surprise. He could oblige this useless one if he’d come along - as a sample of merchandise. Jason doesn’t see how he or Gareth could be samples, but he agrees to stay with the merchant. The sedan chair enters the palace grounds, and every few minutes Sun-Cheng had to thrust a rice paper scroll out the narrow window of the sedan chair so the guards would let them pass. They stop in front of the palace, Sun-Cheng clutching his red box, hustling out. 

Jason, with Gareth in his arms, follows the old Chinese up a wide flight of steps. A crowd of chamberlains, major-domes, and imperial servants hurried them down the corridors so quickly Jason barely had time to look around. He only glimpsed the richly embroidered draperies, the painted screens, the great lanterns. Guards stood everywhere, stiff and motionless, in shining armor, holding spears and wicked - looking swords. 

Approaching the door to the Emperor’s throne room, Sun-Cheng started to tremble and whispers, do what the does. It’ll cost his humble, worthless head if he doesn’t. In front of the massive door Sun-Cheng threw himself to his knees and bowed his head until it touched the floor, Jason doing the same and Sun-Cheng whispering, don’t look up. A gong crashes and the doors were flung open, Sun-Cheng starting to crawl forward, his head low. From the corner of one eye, Jason sees more ranks of guards, he inching ahead. 

The throne room seemed a mile long. One of the chamberlains cried, these are 2 unworthy and totally useless specks of dust. They seek a precious moment of the Imperial Majesty’s celestial and incredibly valuable time. Another gong crashes and Jason’s ears start to sing. Still on his knees, wringing his hands, Sun-Cheng at last raises his head, Jason straightening up, too. 

They were almost at the foot of the throne where Emperor Ichigo sat. He wore so many kimonos, sashes, and layer after layer of stiff, gold-threaded skirts he looked like a doll, he a boy no older than Jason. Sun-Cheng fumbles with his lacquered box, pulls off the lid, and turns the box on its side. Out rolls brown-and-black striped kittens. 

Mewing, blinking, the kittens seem about to run off in all directions; but catching sight of Gareth, they cluster around him, he giving each of them a few reassuring licks. Ichigo claps his hands with delight and jumps off the throne, and in another moment he was on the floor beside Jason and Gareth, peering at the kittens with amazement and fascination. He exclaims, he wants them! What are they? Sun-Cheng explains, these are what we call cats, Imperial Highness. In our humble land they’re ancient and honourable creatures. 

Ichigo asks, why are there 2 sizes? Sun-Cheng replies, the small ones are young, in time, they’ll grow. Ichi whispers with a smile, cats, he thinks this is what he’s always wanted. Jason had been so busy looking at the kittens playing around Gareth he didn’t notice a man in glistening armor who stood just behind Ichi, with hands on his hips, and scowling down at the Emperor. 

In a voice like a whip, he asks, what’s this nonsense? Ichi turns to him and says, oh, Uncle Fujiwara, please let him keep them. The man gives the kittens a scornful glance and says, they don’t look as if they’d taste very good. (What a joker this guy is) Sun-Cheng bowing and bumping his head against the floor, cries, honourable Regent, Exalted guid and instructor of the Celestial Emperor, kittens aren’t to be eaten. They’re far too precious. 

Fuji asks, then, miserable worm, what good are they? Sun-Cheng says, observes their eyes. He can tell the time of day as they grow from narrow to wide. They’ll predict the weather for him when they wash themselves in a certain way. They’ll sing melodious songs, they’ll dance… Jason whispers, don’t forget mice. The trader fearfully whispers back, sh! We don’t talk about mice in the Imperial Palace. 

Ichi begs, please, uncle, please, he never asks him for very much… the boy bows his own head before the Regent. Fuji asks, who will take charge of these animals? Trader, if he provides a keeper for them, perhaps he shall let them remain with the Emperor. Sun-Cheng started to protest he had urgent business in China, otherwise he’d be delighted. Fuji shrugs and says, then take his cats back. 

Ichi, hearing this, looked so unhappy. Jason quickly spoke up, his cat and he will stay with the kittens. Ichi brightens instantly and orders, he shall be Master of Imperial Cats. He grants him all the privileges of the Imperial Household - if Uncle Fuji agrees. The Regent nods grudgingly, and says, now he supposes we must discuss his price. 

He gestures brusquely and Sun-Cheng crawls backward out of the throne room, the Regent striding after him. The 2 boys sit and look at each other for a moment. Jason wasn’t sure how to address a divine emperor, but now the Regent was gone, Ichi took off his imperial headdress and tossed it on the floor. He grins at Jason and says, he’s glad Uncle Fuji let him keep them. He doesn’t know what he’d have done if he hadn’t said he’d stay. 

Jason says, he always thought emperors did as they pleased. Ichi shook his head sadly and says, not with Uncle Fuji around. Of course, perhaps all emperors don’t have an Uncle Fuji. He picks up one of the kittens and holds it in his cupped hands. The little animal wraps his forepaws around Ichi’s thumb and playfully nibbled his fingers. 

Ichi says, now, the first thing he must do is teach them etiquette. Otherwise, Uncle Fuji will be very displeased. Jason asks, etiquette? Don’t worry about this, cats are always well behaved - most always, anyway. Ichi says, no, no, they must learn the Imperial Obeisance. Everybody does it when they come into the throne room, except Uncle, of course. Jason asks, he means all the bowing and creeping? 

He almost laughed out loud until he saw, from the boy’s solemn expression, he was very serious about it. The Emperor says, oh, yes, this is what he has to do when approaching the Celestial Presence, this is him. Jason says, well, he’s afraid no cat in the world ever bowed to an emperor. They just won’t do it. Ichi, and he’s wasting his time if tries to force them. A cat does what he wants, when he wants, emperor or not. Ichi thought for a moment, then says, very well, Master of Imperial Cats, if he says so. 

Then he sighs, and says, they must be proud creatures. Even prouder than an emperor, he adds wistfully. Jason says, what he thinks he should do first is feed them. Ichi says, food? Ah so! Of course we must feed them. Without looking up or even turning around, Ichi claps his hands twice and says, bring food! The finest delicacies in the palace! 

To Jason’s amazement, a minute later 14 servants marched in. They knelt, bumped their heads on the floor, and then brought forward an array of covered dishes, bowls, saucers - and a dozen pairs of tiny chopsticks. The covers were whisked away revealing beautifully polished fruits, raisins, sweet meats, decorated cookies, preserves. Jason cries, oh, no! There’s nothing here a cat can eat! Ichi, tell them to bring some plain food - meat or fish or a little milk. 

Ichi claps his hands again and the servants vanish, he looking so forlorn and disappointed Jason, forgetting for a moment Ichi was a Celestial Presence, puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder. Jason says, don’t feel bad, Ichi, there’s a lot to know about cats, and he has to start somewhere. Later, once everyone was properly fed, a procession of servants led Jason, Gareth, and the kittens to their sleeping quarters in another wing of the palace. There the walls were made of sliding paper screens, opened to the gentle night air. 

The scent of flowers filled the room; in the moonlight, across the Imperial grounds, Jason sees garden after garden and rows of blossoming cherry trees, and heard the rustle of a mini waterfall. Throughout the gardens the breeze stirred hanging bamboo rods which gave a melodious, wooden kind of ring. Crickets chirped in tiny wicker cages. Jason says, you know, after Ireland and Britain, this is quite a change. 

Gareth says, the Japanese have had this 4 centuries and the Chinese civilization for this matter is even older. They had books and science and beautiful buildings when Cerdic Longtooth and his friends were shivering in their huts. Jason says, but he still has the feeling Ichi really doesn’t know what’s happening outside the throne room. The way he ordered dinner, for example, he just claps his hands and the food appears. He doesn’t think it ever occurred to him people have to get it ready, real people, and real cats have to eat it. Gareth says, he’s afraid most emperors act this way. Remember Neter-Khet in Egypt? Well, we cats don’t care whether a person calls himself a Pharaoh or a Celestial Presence; he’s still a man as far as we’re concerned, but it can make a lot of difference to the humans who have to put up with him. The truth is the more an emperor knows about his people, and about his own job, the better off he is. Neter-Khet at least knew he was a ruler. Poor Ichi doesn’t even know this, he has a lot to learn. Then again, so do the kittens, but he’ll look after this in the morning. Next day, however, Gareth had little opportunity to do so, since Ichi had summoned to the throne room 37 artists, 19 poets, 42 scholars, and to create a soothing atmosphere, 83 musicians.

The artists painted pictures of the kittens, the scholars examined them and each scholar disagreed wholly as to exactly what kind of an animal a cat was, and the musicians played on flutes, beat on drums, tapped blocks of wood, and plucked instruments which looked like banjos with most of the strings missing. There was such a racket of music, arguments, comings and goings, creeping and bowing Gareth flitted his ears against the noise and switched his tail irritably. The kittens, terrified, hid under Ichi’s throne and refused to come out. Jason says, Ichi, as Master of Imperial Cats he has to advise him to send all these people away. 

Ichi protests, but they only came to admire. Jason says firmly, it doesn’t matter, cats don’t mind being admired if it’s one at a time, and he thinks there’s been enough admiring already. Besides, the kittens have a lot of important work to do. Ichi looks disappointed again, but since Uncle Fuji wasn’t there, he follows Jason’s advice and claps his hands, and a few seconds later the room was empty. The kittens one by one poked out their heads and Gareth finally persuaded them to come from under the throne. 

With only Jason and Ichi watching the kittens frolicked about the room, tumbling over the polished floors. Gareth, who had been sitting quietly, slid forward slowly until he became a long black shadow amid the tiny balls of black-and-brown fur. The kittens race toward their elder, Gareth, who rolls to his side and pumps his hind legs, tossing each attacking kitten in the air. The little ones pounce for Gareth’s tail who keep sit out of reach, and pulling it away just in time. 

While the kittens scuffle with each other, Gareth crouches, and leaps into their midst, sending them flying. Ichi cries, call the guards! They’re fighting! They’ll all kill each other! Jason assures him, they’re only playing. It’s one of the ways they learn how to be cats. There… look at this! One of the kittens was almost on his hind legs, his paws batting the air in front of Gareth.

He sprang, Gareth ducked, seized the kitten, and the 2 rolled over and over. Jason comments this was a good catch! See, how the little ones using his hind legs much better. The sham battle ends as quickly as it had started. All the cats, including Gareth, suddenly stop, sat on their haunches, and start to wash. 

Ichi says, yes, he understands, they’re learning. If only emperors could learn the same way. He sighs and adds, of course, when one has an Uncle Fuji, he doesn’t suppose it’s necessary. By evening, Ichi pleaded so hard to take the kittens to his own chambers Jason at last agreed. Jason thinks, surely nothing could happen to them in the Imperial Palace, but in the morning, when he and Gareth go to the throne room for the kittens’ daily game, Jason’s jaw dropped. 

Every kitten was dressed in a tiny embroidered kimono. Ichi says proudly, the Imperial Tailors worked all night. Jason says, but cats don’t wear kimonos! Ichi says, his cats shall! 

Jason starts, but Ichi, as Master Imperial Cats… Ichi interrupts, no, no, no! He doesn’t care about this. He’s tired of being told what to do, these are his cats. They shall wear what is proper for cats of an emperor! Jason starts, an emperor’s cats are no different from any other. Ichi folds his arms, turns his head away, and refuses to hear any more. 

Jason strides angrily out of the throne room, completely forgetting to bump his head on the floor. Later when he and Gareth were alone, Jason still felt vexed and snaps, he’s never seen anything so ridiculous. Gareth says, at least Ichi’s showing a little spirit even if he’s going about it in the wrong way. He really wants to take care of the kittens, he just doesn’t know how. 

Jason says, we’ll have to make him get rid of those silly kimonos, this is the first thing. Gareth says, no, this will come in time, the first thing is getting them out of the palace, for a little while at least. One can’t have a cat cooped up indoors all the time. There’s smells to smell, mice to chase, and so many things which have to be looked at and studied very, very carefully, it all part of being a cat. At night, while everyone in the palace slept, Jason waited alone behind the screens of his chamber. In a few moments Gareth appears outside, the kittens with him, and he calls, come on, we’ll be back before Ichi wakes up. 

Jason slid open a screen and stepped out into the cool garden. With Gareth leading, they crossed the palace grounds avoiding the guards at the gate, they pass through the orchard of cherry trees and headed for the center of Kyoto. Behind them, still wearing the Imperial kimonos, padded the 5 kittens. Gareth avoids crowded streets, the tea houses where gaily colored lanterns glowed, the book shops, the busy inns. 

Without seeming to think about which direction to take, Gareth found his way easily to the quieter sections and humbler quarters of the city. Through the narrow alleyways, the kittens never lagged behind, 5 pairs of eyes, as bright as tiny lanterns, follow Gareth at every turn. Every so often, Gareth stops and allow the kittens time to investigate the neighborhood. Whiskers alert, the little ones sniff the air, dip their paws into puddles of water, climb to the tops of bamboo railings, pounce at shadows. 

They balance on the rims of rain barrels, then jump, like divers, back to the ground. Gareth says, the kittens won’t find any of this in the palace. Oh, they’ll learn a lot there, too, but a cat likes to know what’s on both sides of a wall. Jason replies, he hopes Ichi doesn’t mind, or Uncle Fuji, this would be worse. Gareth states, we’ll worry about this later, a cat can always think of something when the time comes. Right now, he’d like to have a look in some of those houses. 

Since all of the houses in the quarter were made of paper screens, and rathe flimsy ones, Gareth had no trouble finding a way in. The first house they visit belonged to a carpenter who’s workshop was filled with tools and planks of wood, sticks of bamboo, and unfinished pieces of furniture with the sharp, warm scent of wood shavings and sawdust. Gareth raises his head quizzically, detecting something else, and says, rats. He crouches, his muscles tensing, tail lashing back and forth, and continues, plenty of them, probably as big as the kittens. They’re wicked fighters, and even a grown cat has to watch his step with them. Well, this is a good a place as any for the kittens to learn. Stay here, he warns Jason, then says, we can move faster if nobody’s in the way. 

Gareth with the kittens trotting silently behind, move through the workshop and disappear into the shadows. Jason tiptoes outside and sits, well out of sight around the corner from the carpenter’s house. What a difference, he thinks, between the palace and this part of the city. Here, the houses were so jammed together the whole neighborhood would easily fit into Ichi’s throne room. 

No sound came from the workshop and after a half hour, the anxious Jason decides he’d better go and find the hunters, but Gareth and the kittens pop out just at this moment. Gareth, as he led the procession back to the palace, says, this carpenter is going to be grateful in the morning. We couldn’t catch all the rats, but the ones which got away had such a scare he doesn’t think they’ll be back for a while. The kittens did very well, Ichi should be proud of them.

There was an expedition every night for the rest of the week. Jason always goes along to help Gareth keep an eye on the kittens - not to say they really needed it. In the course of the week, Jason saw they’d not only grown bigger in size but their walk was more confident and they carried their tails more jauntily. The kittens still had a lot to learn, and during one expedition, a kitten accidentally knocked over some cooking pots. 

They made such a clatter the owner of the house woke up. Top-knot bobbing, a broom of twigs in his hand, the man dashes into the room and starts shouting fearfully. Jason, Gareth, and the kittens took to their heels and didn’t stop until they reached the palace again. In the throne room next day Uncle Fuji paced back and forth, scowling more than usual. 

The Regent states, there are strange happenings in Kyoto, only this morning a carver of jade reported his house was invaded by 100 spirits. He valiantly seized a broom to fight them off, but they vanished through hole in the wall. Jason smiles to himself, since wherever Gareth had taken him, it seemed people enjoyed exaggerating. How the jade carver could make 100 spirits out of 5 kittens Jason couldn’t imagine, but Uncle Fuji - and Ichi, too - never thought of doubting the story. The Regent continues, and there’s more. In certain quarters rats have been disappearing from the houses. 

Jason asks, but this is good, isn’t its it? The Regent angrily replies, speak when he’s spoken to, Master of Imperial Cats. Mysterious forces are at work. 72 scholars are now studying this problem. So far, they’ll only say none of this took place until the arrival of these foreigners. The Regent gestures contemptuously at Jason and Gareth. Ichi puts in, but he likes these foreigners. 

Uncle Fuji snaps, he, too, speak when he’s spoken to. This is a warning, if this boy and his strange animal have anything to do with it, they’ll suffer the consequences. When Jason and Gareth are alone in their chamber, he says, he doesn’t understand, he’d think Fuji would be glad the rats are disappearing. Gareth replies, this is another thing about emperors - and regents, they’re not very fond of changes, even if they’re for the better. Jason asks, does he think we should take the kittens out again?

Gareth replies, we can’t interrupt their education just because Uncle Fuji is in a bad temper. Don’t worry about it, there won’t be any trouble. At night however, Gareth was wrong, they having stayed out later than usual and sawn had started to break. At one street corner Jason saw a company of Imperial Guards. Gareth whispers, just slide along this wall, very quietly. They’ll never notice us. 

It would’ve worked - except for one kitten who lagged behind and, scared of being separated from the others, started mewing so loudly the Honorable Imperial Captain turned around. Next moment, Jason, Gareth, and the kittens were surrounded, and recognizing the Imperial Crest on the kimonos, the Captain marches everyone back to the palace. In the throne room as soon as Ichi sees them, he leaps to his feet and cries, how dare he steal the Imperial Kittens! Jason tries to explain what he and Gareth had been doing, but Ichi pays no attention. 

He fondles the kittens, examining each one for damages, brushing specks of dust from the kimonos. Ichi almost in tears says, he’s no longer his friend, he shall call Uncle Fuji and let him decide what to do with him. Jason says, why doesn’t he make up his own mind for a change. If he thinks he should have his head chopped off, he doesn’t need to ask his Uncle. Only do one thing and bring in one of the people we visited, bring in the carpenter, or anybody, and talk to them first. Ichi asks, he thinks the words of a carpenter can make any difference? 

Jason replies, he thinks they’ll make a lot of difference. Ichi finally agrees, Jason describes the quarter they’d visited the first night and the Honorable Imperial Captain of Guards recognizes it and sends 2 men to fetch the carpenter. While they wait, Ichi sits glumly, the kittens playing in front of him, but he too preoccupied to notice. Finally, the carpenter is brought in trembling with fear, convinced his head would be chopped off at any moment. 

Jason asks, does he have rats in his house? The carpenter answers, no, no, only a week ago this humble and insignificant person was plagued with honorable rats. Now, suddenly, the rats are gone, it’s a great miracle. Everyday this wretched one gives thanks to the spirits of his ancestors. Jason points to the kittens and says, here are the ones he should thank. The carpenter drops to his knees and bumps his head 6 or 8 times against the floor and says, are these the kindly spirits who protected his unworthy home? Blessings, blessings…

Jason says, these are cats. The carpenter says, whatever they may be, they have great powers. His wife blesses them, the food for his children is no longer stolen. The carpenter bowed so much and knocked his head so gratefully the guards had to carry him out of the throne room and let him recover in the hall. Ichi comments, he did seem pleased. 

Jason says, he knows he’s an emperor and a Celestial Presence and all this, but if he were anybody else, he’d say he was being selfish. There’s no reason why the kittens shouldn’t help his people. They certainly aren’t doing much good locked up in the palace. Cats aren’t toys just to be played with. Ichi says, he knows what he’ll do, he’ll have the artists come and paint more pictures, then everybody in Japan shall have one. Jasons states, this won’t do any good. Ichi protests, but they’re excellent and honorable artists. 

Jason says, it doesn’t matter, a picture of a cat won’t work, he has to have real ones. Ichi thought for a moment then shakes his head, saying, he doesn’t know what else to do. He shall ask Uncle Fuji. Jason impatiently cries, can’t he forget Uncle Fuji? It’s time he stop acting like a baby and start behaving like an emperor! Before Jason could finish, Uncle Fuji himself appeared in the throne room and shouts, what is this fainting carpenter doing out there? He’s babbling about miracles and spirits with long tails. So? 

The Regent catches sight of Jason and says, he knew this foreigner had something to do with it! Ichi says, this is true, this foreigner has taught him many things about cats and other matters. He’s thought carefully and this is his decision: these kittens are too valuable to remain uselessly in the palace, they shall come and go as they please. This isn’t all, when the merchant Sun-Cheng visits us again, he shall be asked to bring more kittens, enough for every house in Japan! Uncle Fuji says, he’s heard enough. He, his unworthy nephew, has gone completely mad. It’s the influence of this boy and he thinks it’s necessary to dispose of him, and his cat, and these kittens. Uncle Fuji pulls out his sword and seized Jason by the hair, saying, we’ll start with this one! 

He threw Jason to the floor and stood over him, sword upraised. Ichi says, stop! He commands him! Jason had never heard Ichi use this tone of voice before. Uncle Fuji was so surprised his arm froze motionless in the air. 

Ichi states, this is his Master of Imperial Cats. He’s under his protection, and orders him not to harm him. Uncle Fuji slowly turns and looks curiously at Ichi, asking in a cold voice, what could he say? Ichi repeats, he orders him. The Regent drew closer to the throne and says through clenched teeth, worthy nephew, as his adviser and instructor he cautions him on his use of words. If there’s any ordering to be done here… 

Ichi interrupts, crying, if there’s ordering to be done then he shall do it! He is Emperor, not him! Uncle Fuji raises his sword again and says, why you ridiculous, insignificant little… Ichi says, he threatens him? He dare to threaten his Emperor? He could have him boiled in oil! Humble himself in the Celestial Presence! Ichi’s eyes blazed and for a moment, Jason feared Uncle Fuji would run the boy through. 

The glances of the Regent and the Emperor locked and Ichi says, his Emperor commands him! Jason had never seen such a look of fury as the one which darkened the Regent’s face, but Fuji was the first to turn his eyes away. He dropped his weapon to the floor and bowed deeply. Jason and Gareth walk silently from the room, near the throne, the kittens played happily with the tassels of Fuji’s sword.

Italy 1468

Ichi’s throne room became a mountainside. Jason looks about for Gareth, who’s ears are cupped forward, whiskers quivering, he crouched at the mouth of a cave, listening. Jason heard only a thin breeze which wound a ribbon through the rocks. Below, in the gold and blue of the late afternoon, the mountain fell away into small hills rolling toward the valley. 

A castle tower rose in the distance, behind a white village and silver-green orchards of olive trees. Gareth says, something’s in there, hearing it scuffling around. He springs lightly to one of the rocks and cautions to stay high. If he doesn’t know what he’s going to meet, at least keep on top of it. 

Jason follows him to the upper arch of the cave and presses himself against the rocks. Whatever it was started to come out and it turned out being a boy, lanky, bony, with a shock of bright copper-colored hair. He was a few years older than Jason and much taller. At the cave mouth the boy blinked at the sunlight and blew out the small torch he carried. 

Not knowing what to expect, Jason breathes a sigh of relief. The boy hears and spins quickly, shouting in surprise. His movement started Jason off the rocks and Gareth bushed out his fur. For a moment everyone liked terrified of everyone else - Gareth bristling, Jason scrambling up up from the pebbles, the boy raising his torch like a sword, then the boy starts laughing, and chuckles, this was wonderful, at first he thought he was a bear, and look at his cat! His fur’s still up, he must’ve expected a monster to come and carry him off. 

Jason says, he didn’t expect anything of the kind, he does this when he’s surprised, and doesn’t like to made fun of either. The boy replies, he’s not making fun, he thinks it was beautiful. Did he see his eyes? They were round like fires, and the way he had his paws, all stiff in front of him, with the claws ready, and his jaws open, he could see his teeth. Jason asks, didn’t he ever see a cat before? The boy replies, of course he did, hundreds of them, but just because he’s seen something, it doesn’t meant mean he stops looking. There’s always something he didn’t see before. 

The tall boy, whose name was Leonardo, led the way down the mountain path. They skirted the village and olive trees as hatless Leo strode with his head high and thrown back a little, the bright hear making his face look as if the sun were shining on it. He spoke rapidly about a dozen different things, one after the other, without waiting for an answer. About volcanoes, if Jason had seen any, what made fire come out of the ground, was there a place inside the earth which still burned and if so, why wasn’t the ground hot. 

Leo’s voice was strong, excited, and made Jason think of bright colors, all shifting back and forth. By the time they reached the rambling farmhouse with its flower and vegetable gardens, the vineyards heavy with misted clusters of grapes, Leo’s conversation had turned to fish to beetles to birds. Inside the house, Leo’s family already sat at a long dinner table, a man in a handsomely tailored doublet looking up irritably and saying, if he’s late again, he can find his own dinner in the woods. The older man beside him chuckled and says, he thinks it’ll be a long day, Piero, when he keeps Leo from the table - no matter how late he is. 

He turns to Leo and asks, so what has he found this time? Beetles? Butterflies? Leo replies, a boy and a cat. Every one notices Jason and Gareth and start talking all at once, Ser Piero, Leo’s father, pounding the table for silence. He calls Jason over and looked at him carefully saying, now, speak up, boy! Give him the truth, he’s a runaway apprentice, he can guess this much. What’s his trade? Mason? Clothmaker? Who’s his master? What’s his guild? 

The older man, who Jason learns is Leo’s uncle Ser Francesco, with a wink at Jason says, food before questions. Leo says, at least let him stay awhile. Piero grumbles, but gestures Jason to a seat at the table, Gareth curling at his feet. Leo’s step-mother, he learns later, a frail woman with a pale, kindly face, calls a servant for extra plates. 

Piero’s still annoyed and says to Francesco, Leo must learn to be punctual. All this wandering around, climbing mountains, finding stray cats and runaway apprentices… He tell him, Francesco, is this a discipline for the mind? A notary must have discipline. Francesco says, there’s time. Piero crying, time! None at all! He is half grown already. No, no, he must come to Florence and start his work, every Vinci has been a notary. A knock at the door interrupts Piero, a heavy-shouldered, red-faced man coming in - a farmer, Jason judges - carrying a flight piece of wood. 

Piero turns and says, ah, Jacopo, what brings him here. Jac removes his round cap and made a quick bow to the family saying, he would ask a favor, Ser Piero, not for himself, for his wife, he knows the ideas women get. He holds out the piece of wood and says, she’s decided now we must have a picture for our bedchamber. He had cut this board from one of his fig trees - the one the storm blew down - and nothing will satisfy her but an artist must paint something on it. 

Piero takes the board and turns it around in his hands and says, it’s a little crooked, the surface is none too good. What would he have him do with it? The Vincis are notaries, not painters. Jac says, as a favor, take it with him when he goes to the city again, there must be a painter in Florence who’ll decorate it cheaply, a few ducats is all he can afford. Piero nods, and says, very well, Jac, he shall attend to it. Jac bows again and says, thank you, Piero, he hates to trouble him, but it’s for his wife he understands. 

After the farmer had left the house, Leo picks up the board and examines it carefully and asks, why take it to Florence, father? He can decorate it here. Piero gave a loud laugh, and says, Francesco, does he hear the boy? He can decorate it! He turns to his son and says, my dear Leo, Jac wants a painting for his ducats, a real painting by a real artist. Leo replies, he can draw and make his own colors. 

Piero sniffs and says, Ser Leo talks like a master craftsman. Francesco puts in, hold on, Piero, he has seen the boy’s sketches, they’re not without skill. Piero replies, he doesn’t deny he has a little knack, for a boy his age, but they’re trifles, the work of idle hands and an idle mind. He should be thinking about business, not about daubing paint. Francesco asks, why not? If he prefers it? Art is an honest trade. 

Piero says, as an amusement it’s harmless, but to do nothing else, no. For a notary, it’s not suitable. Leo cries, but he’s not a notary. Piero answers sharply, he will be, as soon as he can arrange it. He can see he has already waited too long. Leo tightens his lips and turns away angrily. 

Francesco says, now then, now then, there should be no quarreling between father and son. As an honest man, Piero, he must know there’s only one fair answer to this. Piero says, he does, he must come to business immediately. Francesco urges, let the boy have his chance. He wants to paint Jac’s board? Let him. Then take it to Florence, show it to Ser Andrea Verrocchio, a friend of his. Ser Andrea is a master of all the arts. He’ll give him his opinion. Piero hesitates and says, and suppose Leo ruins the board? 

Francesco says, he’ll buy another to replace it, and pay for it out of his own purse. Piero thought for a few moments then says, very well, it’s time we decide the question once and for all. He taps a forefinger on the board in Leo’s hands and says, he thinks himself an artist? We shall see what he does with this. Clutching the board, Leo jumps to his feet and cries, yes, we shall see! Come on! 

He beckons to Jason and the 2 boys followed by Gareth hurry upstairs to Leo’s room. Tacked on the door was a sheet of paper with a strange inscription Jason couldn’t read at all. Leo explains, it says, ‘Keep Out, No Visitors’. Jason comments, it doesn’t look like it.

Leo says, this is because he wrote it backwards. Doesn’t he ever look at things backwards? Odranoel! This is his name, it’s what he did on the sign, but double backwards. If he holds it up to a mirror, the letters come right again, it’s his secret code. Jason says, but if he doesn’t want anyone in his room, he doesn’t see why he wrote a notice nobody can read. Leo says, nobody pays any attention to signs, the notice is there to be mysterious. If he wants to keep people out, he tells them so. Inside, Jason looks with amazement - tables crowded with piles of paper, collections of butterflies, rocks, pressed flowers.  

A squirrel raced back and forth in a small cage. In another cage a sleepy green snake lay coiled. Great bottles and jars held clumps of moss and long-tailed, speckled lizards. From another bottle, a few fish stared at the inquisitive Gareth. 

On a table, Leo had sat a water bottle over a candle flame, he asking, did he ever notice how the bubbles come up? He’s been watching them. There must be something inside, something invisible - he doesn’t know what it is. Perhaps the philosophers in Florence know and someday he’ll ask them. First, he wants to try to find out for himself. Leo reaches down and takes a  sheaf of papers from a pile on the floor and hands them to Jason, saying, this is what his father was arguing about. Jason leafed through them, drawings of plants and animals, a picture of the squirrel in its cage, on one sheet Leo had sketched a flower, very large, and cut down the middle to show the inside. Piero’s face, sober and serious, looking exactly like him, covered another page, and on another, a cartoon of Francesco in the middle of a sneeze. 

Jason asks, what will he paint for Jac? Leo says, he doesn’t know yet. He has to look at this board for a while. It’s badly bent, he’ll have to smooth it down. Leo pushes aside the papers and cleared a space on the table. Je arranged the board, pulled over a candle, and sat down.

The candlelight on Leo’s coppery hair reflect in the boys face as a golden haze. He frowned, bit his lip, and squinted at the board first from one angle then another. Jason asks, what’s he going to do now? Leo doesn’t answer, not even when Jason repeats himself. 

Leo seemed to have forgotten completely any one else was in the room. Jason saw there was no use talking to him anymore, Leo’s attention on the work in front of him and nowhere else. Jason closes the door quietly as he leaves the room, he and Gareth finding their way down the hall to the room Leo’s mother had prepared. Jason says, he’s never met anyone like this. 

He’s never known anybody who watched everything so much. Gareth says, cats do it, he’d be surprised how much a cat can earn just by watching. From Leo’s room came a muffled explosion and the tinkle of glass. Gareth says, this must be the water bottle, he was afraid this would happen if he kept on boiling it. 

Jason expected to hear everyone in the house running to Leo’s room, but there were no further sounds. Jason decided the Vinci family must be used to explosions. When Jason and Gareth climb out of bed, Leo was already awake - or else he hadn’t slept at all. Jason found him still sitting at his table.

The lights had all gone out of his face, and in the early morning he merely looked like a sleepy boy who has stayed up most of the night and needs a haircut. The squirrel exercised frantically in its cage. Gareth jumps up and presses his nose to the bars, studying the little animal racing as fast as it could, spinning its wheel and always staying in the same place. Jason asks, has he decided what to paint?

Leo only grunted, tossing over Jac’s board. Jason says, he straightened it! And it’s all smooth and white. He examines the board, Leo must having spent hours working on the surface. It’d be perfect for painting. 

Leo sighs, saying, but there’s nothing on it. First, there were so many things he wanted to paint he couldn’t decide which to do. Then, they all flew out of his head and he couldn’t think of anything. Now there’s nothing, all the pictures are gone, he finishes glumly. Jason says, he’ll find something, there’s no hurry. Leo with irritation says, he wants to do it now. His father’s gone to Florence and will be back tomorrow or the next day and he wants it ready for him. The squirrel stops racing and starts chittering and scolding, jumping at Gareth.

Surprised, the cat bristled and pulled back. Leo cries, snapping his fingers, this is what he wants! This is his picture! He should’ve thought of it before. Yes, yes, he goes on excitedly, and says, a picture of a cat. They’re the most beautiful animals in the world - and the hardest to paint, if one really wants the picture to look like a cat. Remember yesterday when we all scared each other up in the mountains? He looked the same way then, this is the idea he wants. Jason asks, is he going to paint the cave, too? And him hanging not he rocks? Leo says impatiently, of course not, he’s just going to paint his cat.

Jason says, but he thought he said… Leo explains, he said this is the idea he wants. It doesn’t mean one has to show everything else, the cat’s the main thing, but when somebody looks at the painting, it should make them think of all the rest. They should look at it and say, now here’s a cat angry and scared and ready to fight, something must’ve scared him. Then they’ll wonder what it was. Maybe they won’t use those words, but if it’s any good, a painting should make one think about a lot of other things. In a painting there’s always more than what one sees… Leo stops and frowns, then says, he doesn’t look bristly anymore, make him do it again. Jason says, he can’t make him, he only does it when he feels like it. 

Leo suggests, he could think up something to scare him, nothing serious, just enough to… Jason says, oh no he won’t. As much as he liked this strange, copper-haired boy, he had no intention of letting him annoy Gareth and says, he can paint his picture all he wants, if he’s sitting down or sleeping or walking around, but no more than this. Leo looks disappointed and says, he supposes he can remember how he looked when he was angry, it might be even better, because he can change a lot of things, it doesn’t have to look exactly like him. Yes, this is what he’ll do. 

The boy picks up a bit of charcoal and starts sketching rapidly on the back of an old sheet of paper and says, the thing about cats, working along until the paper was covered, is the way they’re made. Those muscles in the back legs. Can he imagine how strong they must be? This is why cats can jump so high, and the back, it can move almost anyway, like a sword blade. Leo continues, everything’s in balance, all the muscles and bones and joints, this is what he wants in the painting, too. Jason says, well, he hopes he isn’t going to paint bones and muscles, he doesn’t think anybody would like this. Leo says, his Uncle Francesco told him a lot, the rest he figured out for himself. It’s easy when he stops to think - and watch. 

Leo crumbles his sketch paper and throws it to the floor. He picks up the board and looks lovingly at the untouched surface. Jason could guess Leo would soon forget everything else. He was right, in a minute or to, Leo was lost in his work, Jason tempted to look over his shoulder, but rather than disturb him, he picks up Gareth and goes downstairs. 

All day and all evening Leo stays locked in his room and on the way to bed Jason noticed a new, bigger sign added to the other on Leo’s door. It read ‘POSITIVELY KEEP OUT’ and was written the right way except for the signature, still backwards. Leo’s mother had left a tray of food at the door, but it was untouched. Jason says, he hopes he’s all right in there, he wonders if we should go in and see. 

Gareth says, cats don’t go butting in on each other unless they’re looking for a fight. If he bothers Leo now, this is what he might get. Don’t worry, he’ll come out when he’s ready. The following morning Leo’s door stood open, Jason peeking in and seeing Leo hunched over the table, his tousled head cradled in his arms. Jason hurries into the room and asks, where? May he see it? Leo says, no, no, no! 

He jumps up and runs to the chair he’d been using for an easel. A paint-soiled cloth covered the board, Leo standing in front of it. He continues, he doesn’t want anyone to see it yet. Not until his father comes home. Jason asks, how did it turn out? 

Leo had a curious half-smile, not answering. When his father and uncle return to the farm at dusk, Leo asks them to come to his room. Jason was surprised, knowing his friend to be fussy about visitors; but when he entered the room he saw Leo had arranged the painting, still covered, near the window, where it caught the last rays of the sun. He’d also lit several candles on the table, Leo’s mother standing in the doorway, watching her son with a look half of pride half puzzlement. 

Ser Piero glances around the room at the squirrel in its cage, the snake, bunches of dried leaves, rocks, as if he wished they weren’t there. Leo says, sit down, please, Father. Piero shrugs and comments, this must be a special event. Leo starts, he’s been working on a picture for Jac, then talks about the board, steaming it straight in such great detail. 

Piero shifted his feet restlessly. Jason sees Piero hide a yawn in the palm of his hand and wondered why Leo simply didn’t pull away the cloth and have done with it. A moment later Jason sees Leo’s hand reach for a length of cord, but by this point, Piero’s attention had wandered so far he didn’t notice the cloth was gradually being raised from the painting, Leo still talking and Piero fidgeting. Leo abruptly says, father, look! 

Piero turned, blinked, and leaped straight up with a roar of terror, knocking over his chair. The rock collection sprayed across the floor, the servant girl screamed, Piero shouts, watch out! It’s ready to jump! Out! Out! Everybody! If Jason hadn’t suspected something, he’d have run for his life, even despite this and knowing it was only a painting, he felt the hairs rise on his neck. Gareth crouched and growled, Leo having drawn a cat, but not exactly. 

He’d worked from memory of Gareth bristling and angry, but he’d changed many things. The eyes in the painting were Gareth’s blazing orange eyes, the rest was part cat and Jason didn’t know what, but the animal looked real enough to spring from the board and tear the room apart with its ferocious claws. It was the most perfect painting Jason had ever seen - and the most frightening. Francesco was first to realize it was only a picture and started to laugh at the top of his voice saying, oh, Piero, Piero he’s been well surprised! 

Piero, whose face was still pale as paste, frowned angrily, Francesco clapping him on the shoulder and continuing, confess, now! He never expected anything like right. He didn’t think Leo could do it. Admit it! Fair is fair! Leo’s mother came forward and raised her voice for the first time, saying calmly, Piero, this isn’t the work of a notary, this is the work of an artist. She’s listened to him and Leo argue back and forth, and she’s said nothing. She knew what he decided would be right and she didn’t want to interfere, but she tells him now, Piero if he forces Leo to be a notary, he’ll be wrong. Piero says nothing for a while, looking at the painting, then back at his son, and says, he hadn’t meant to force the boy into anything. Ideas change when one’s young. He didn’t believe he was really serious. True, he wanted him to be a notary, but only yesterday he spoke with the artist, Ser Andrea. He’d planned to take whatever Leo painted and show it to him. He no longer needs Andrea’s judgement, he has eyes and he’ll study painting in Florence, starting now. Francesco cries, bravo, but Leo had to scare him out of his wits before he made up his mind.

Piero replies, Francesco, he can forget about this part of it. Piero was as good as his word, next day Uncle Francesco, Leo’s mother, and the whole Vinci household helped the boy pack for his trip. In the confusion no one noticed when Jason and Gareth slip away from the farm and make their way across the flowering meadow. Jason says, you know, Gareth, if it hadn’t been for him he doesn’t think Piero ever would’ve let Leo study painting. He was the one who gave him the idea for the picture, and after, everything worked out. 

Gareth says, no, this isn’t exactly true, with a boy like Leo, it’d have happened one way or another. He didn’t need him or anyone else to give him an idea. He’d have found it himself, so he can’t really say he helped. Jason reluctantly says, well, if he says so, but he likes to think he did. High against a cloud a lone bird played with the breeze. A butterfly danced and flickered across the meadow, and boy and cat follow its bright wings until it was out of sight. 

Peru 1555

Instead of a field of flowers, Jason and Gareth stand in a room almost as cluttered as Leo’s. Here, the clutter was different, against one of the stone walls leaned a heavy musket, a couple of Spanish style helmets with roundups and curved brims rolled into a corner, along with a breastplate needing polishing. Piles of what seemed to be laundry waited to be sent out, 2 left-footed boots, a sword which would’ve been most warlike had it been sharp. At a wooden table, head in his arms is the owner of these items snoring peacefully. 

However as soon as Jason moved, the sleeper started and blinked; except for the curled mustache and pointed beard, which didn’t quite appear to belong to him, the man looked like a surprised fish, stammering, who…what… He notices Gareth and the man suddenly started to beam delightedly, he crying, of course! The cat he ordered! But how did he get here so fast? He gave the letter to a messenger only 6 weeks ago. This is really amazing, all the way from Peru to Spain and back again. He stops abruptly and asks, it is his cat, isn’t it? There’s no mistake about the delivery? One cat to be sent to Don Diego Francisco Hernandez del Gato Herrera y Robles? All the while, Don Diego was patting Gareth fondly and before Jason could answer, the Spaniard picked up Gareth and cradled him in his arms, continuing, no, no, there couldn’t be a mistake. No, he’s waited too long, it must’ve cost a fortune! But it’s worth it, just to have a cat. Ah, a cat, even the sound of the name is worth another fortune. 

Don Diego wipes a tear from his eye and says, forgive me, he sniffles through his mustache and continues, but we’re an emotional family on his mother’s side. Oh, it’s been so lonely here, he not asking to be in the army, but his family on his father’s side not knowing what else to do with him, and they spending so much money buying him a captain’s commission he can’t disappoint them. Jason asks, bought him a commission? Don Diego looks at him, puzzled and says, naturally, how else would a gentlemen start off in the army, but he didn’t think it’d turn out like this. He’ll tell him one thing, D.D. looks over his shoulder and drops his voice to a whisper and continues, the whole business has gone wrong from the start. Pizarro and his friends came looking for gold. Oh, they found it, these Indian’s have more gold than he’s ever seen in his life. Plenty for everybody, and the Indians would’ve given us all we wanted, but, no this wasn’t enough for Pizarro and the Conquerors. They started being greedy and quarrelsome and plotting against each other. To make a long story short, there’s not one left alive today. Now there’s nothing but fighting, Diego says sadly, continuing, we fight the Indians, and they fight back, and then we fight amongst ourselves. The Viceroy sent by His Majesty himself, doesn’t know what to do. Well, he doesn’t care, he has his cat, this is all which matters to him. They can keep the gold, much good it may do them, his cat, he repeats dreamily. Jason says, he’s glad he likes cats, but there’s something he doesn’t understand, his cat and him, well, we’re together, he means…

Don Diego cries, of course! How thoughtful of his family on his mother’s side to send a cat and a boy to help him look after it, yes this is it. He can be his orderly, then he won’t have to put up with this lazy, impudent Pedro. He tries to shout at him, but he won’t listen or else he talks back. He refuses to keep his quarters tidy, see for himself. DD flings out his arms in despair and continues, he can’t seem to keep things straight alone, but now it’s all going to be different. A cat! It feels homey already. A trumpet blared outside and DD clapped a hand to his head, and says, he’s late for close-order drill, he forgot. All the excitement… He started rushing around the room, stumbling over the laundry, trying to buckle on his breastplate, while the helmet, much too big for his head, slipped down over his eyes.

Jason decided this was no time to mention DD’s mistake, and helps the Captain struggle into his armor, with half of his buckles flying, the breathless DD picking up his sword and tumbling headlong out the door. Jason watched him fumble his way across the barracks yard. A company of pike men stiffened to attention. From this distance Jason couldn’t tell what orders DD was shouting, but they must’ve been wrong, for the solders, all as stiff as their own pikes, kept marching off in different directions, wheeling and bumping into one another. 

Jason says, well, he’s never seen a solder like this. Gareth responds, wearing a uniform doesn’t make someone a soldier, he thinks he’d rather be home. Jason says, he did seem awfully confused about things. He doesn’t know what he’ll do when his own cat arrives. Gareth says, we’ll see about this later. The only thing a cat worries about is what’s happening right now. As we tell the kittens, one can only wash one paw at a time. 

Jason did his best to put DD’s room in order, but it was hopeless. The Captain had so many odds and ends of things, bits of candles, belts with buckles missing, rusted pistols, a couple of oil paintings, one from his father’s side of the family, the other, from his mother’s side. Jason finally put it all in a heap in a corner of the room. Sheets of parchment covered the table, and when Jason tried to straighten them up he couldn’t avoid noticing what DD had been writing. 

Jason says to Gareth, it looks like he’s trying to make a dictionary. Here’s all the Indian words on one side and where he explains what they mean next to them. He’s been writing a lot about the Indian’s too, he calls them Incas. There’s pages and pages about how they live and what they wear, he wonders why he’s doing this? Gareth, who’d curled up in DD’s spare helmet suggests, it might be he’s lonesome and homesick and doesn’t have anything else to pass the time, or he may just be the kind of man who’s very interested in what’s happening, what he sees and does and wants to make sure he’ll remember. Jason glanced through the papers and says, he thinks he’d be better off writing history than trying to be a soldier. Gareth says, he’s sure he’d agree with him, but he supposes his family thought he belonged in the army. 

Jason replies, he guesses they did, at least on his father’s side. Toward the middle of the afternoon, DD, flushed, smiling, his helmet all crooked, bursts into the room. From the officers’ mess he’d brought food for dinner. Humming happily, he set it down on the table. 

DD rubs his hands together and says, now, something to eat, then a nap, and after this, some tricks. Jason asks eagerly, he’s going to do tricks? DD replies, him? Goodness, no! The cat will. Jason, perplexed asks, the cat? But he doesn’t do tricks. 

DD, raising a finger, perhaps he doesn’t now, but we’ll teach him. He’s been looking forward to it all day. Time and patience, this is all it takes, and he has plenty of both. Jason asks, did he ever teach a cat tricks before? DD answers, no, no, he can’t say he has, but he’s always wanted to. Jason goes on, if he had, he’d know cats won’t do tricks. Oh, they’ll do them, but when they feel like it, and they’ll make up their own, so it’s no use trying to have them learn his tricks. 

DD says, but they’re intelligent… Jason interrupts, this doesn’t have anything to do with it. With a cat, it’s just not the same, if he wanted a pet to sit up and beg or play dead or give his paw, he should’ve asked for a dog. If he wanted a pet to talk, he should’ve ordered a parrot. Some animals are good at some things and some are good at others. Cats are good at being cats, and this is enough. DD’s mustache drooped in disappointment, for a moment. Jason was afraid he would cry. 

DD looked so terribly sad Jason wished he hadn’t said anything. DD glumly says, he supposes he doesn’t really know anything about cats. He’s never had one of his own there was a cat in his family on his mother’s side and he always admired it, and this is why he wanted one sent to him. He sees now it was a mistake, another mistake. He sighs deeply and finishes, he’s always making them. Jason says encouragingly, it wasn’t a mistake at all, cats don’t have to do tricks to be fun. Just watching them and playing with them is fun, try it, he’ll see what he means. 

DD said he’d try, although still looking let down. After their nap, DD made no attempt to teach Gareth tricks, instead, DD sat down at his table and started working with his papers. DD brightens a little and says, he learned something new today. Did he know Inca mothers stand their children up in holes in the ground so they won’t run away? Isn’t this amazing? With his quill pen moving furiously, DD made a long note of it. 

Gareth hops up on DD’s table, where he sits watching the quill. Each time DD comes to the end of a line Gareth hooks out a paw and catches at the pen. DD looks up in surprise and starts to chuckle saying, now this is a kind of trick isn’t its it. It’s a game he thought up himself, so it’s really better than a trick! Later, Gareth stretched out, purring on the table. 

DD leaned back and stroked Gareth’s ears and says to Jason, you know, this cat makes him feel very pleasant. Isn’t this strange? Just sitting here with him, he doesn’t know, everything seems cozier. He doesn’t think he’d like it if he sat up and begged. It wouldn’t be… dignified, somehow, maybe he’s right after all. Like him being a solder, he adds sadly, then finishes, it’s as silly as trying to teach a cat to do tricks. In the following days, DD was perfectly happy to have Gareth behave like any cat, and finally admitted it was more fun this way. While DD drilled his solders, Jason gradually put the room in order. After this, there was little for him and Gareth to do in the barracks.

During afternoons they walked through the city and into the valley. The city was called Cuzco, and the Incas had built it long before the Spaniards had arrived. The houses were mainly of stone, the streets very straight and well kept. In a way it reminded Jason of Egypt with its walls and palaces; there was even a great stone pyramid higher up on the mountains. 

Jason saw nothing of the Incas, since the Spaniards captured Cuzco, the Inca warriors had withdrawn to the valley. There were a few Indians in the fields, but these were of the tribes the Incas themselves had conquered. As DD explained it, the Incas were the rulers of all the other Indians in Peru, now these rules were fighting for their lives. When Jason and Gareth had wandered a little beyond the city one day, Jason says, he wishes he could see a real Inca. 

To Jason’s surprise, Gareth doesn’t answer, then Jason understands why. In the field, as if they’d risen from nowhere, stood 4 warriors in capes and striped leggings. Jason snatched Gareth up and tries to run, but one of the warriors whirls a 3-stranded rope with heavy metal balls at the ends. An instant later, Jason and Gareth lay on the ground, tangled in the weighted cords, lances leveled, with the Incas moving forward. 

The Incas had a small camp and village at the edge of the valley. Still trussed up like flies in a spiderweb, Jason and Gareth clung to each other while the warriors carried them into the camp and dumped them in front of Sayri Tupac, the Great Inca himself. Jason had never seen a man so brilliantly dressed, over a long tunic he wore a brightly decorated cape, around his forehead were colored braids with tassels and bits of gold. From his ears hung enormous disks of pure gold, he turned his handsome bronzed face toward Jason, a face which he was severe, commanding and at the same time filled with a deep sadness. 

Sayri Tupac says, our enemies lie at our feet, just as his father and brothers have lain at the feet of the Conquerors. The Spaniards have asked for much gold to ransom his brothers. Now the Inca shall demand the gold back again as a ransom for him. We’ve paid, we shall see if the Conquerors will do as much. If not.. there shall be to heads on our battle standards. A message has already been sent to Cuzco, their lives depend on the answer. Jason and Gareth were made to sit against the outside wall of an earthen hut. Sayri had nothing further to say to them, but a few of the warriors and some of the women and children of the village gathered to peer curiously not at Jason, but Gareth. The Incas had seen boys before, in the Spanish garrison, Jason guessed there were no cats in Peru for he heard one of the men explain the animal must be some new kind of black puma.

Jason tried not to think of Sayri’s words, since if the Spaniards were busy fighting each other, Jason doubted they’d take time to think about a boy and cat. They certainly wouldn’t give up any gold and Sayri’s remarks of 2 heads on the battle standards didn’t make Jason feel very cheerful, but Gareth had said, one can only wash one paw at a time. To keep his mind off what might happen Jason tried to interest himself in the activity around him. The more he watched them, the more the Incas reminded him of the Egyptians, although their costumes were different, the Incas had the same dignity and graceful movements. 

In addition, the flashing gold of the Inca warriors’ earrings, the feathered headdress, the glittering glances gave the humble camp village the look of an imperial court. Jason could easily imagine how splendid the Incas had been in their great palaces at Cuzco. Like the Egyptians, the Incas had their own scribes, for the wool-robed men busy courting the stocks of provisions were surely scribes, Jason thought. Instead of day tablets, the Incas seemed to keep their records on long cards made up of many strands of colored, knotted strings. 

A few llamas tended by a young herd boy wanders past, the animals looking like very large sheep or very small, woolly camels, and they too had a quiet dignity about them. They gave Jason and Gareth a solemn glance then amble on. The cords were putting Jason’s legs to sleep, so he tries following Gareth’s example by relaxing and drowsing a little. He’d just managed to close his eyes and rest when a great shout went up from the warriors. 

Jason twisted around as far as the cords allowed, and at the far end of the village he sees the figure of a man on horseback, it DD. He reigns up near the platform on which Sayri had his throne. Dismounting, DD caught his foot in the stirrup and nearly went flat on his face. Poor DD looked terrified and uncomfortable, his helmet crooked and with no one to help him, his armor was on all wrong. 

Jason’s heart sank, since as much as he liked DD, the awkward Spaniard hardly looked like the man to bargain the glorious, stately Sayri Tupac. DD approaches the throne, and when he starts to speak, his helmet slips down over one ear. With a gesture of impatience, DD pulls off his headpiece and threw it on the ground. He unbuckled his armor too, and let it drop from his body like a shell. 

DD says, there, this is a lot better. Jason couldn’t believe his eyes, without the heavy armor, dressed only in a simple doublet, DD seemed taller and straighter. He held his head proudly and when he spoke, his voice rang clearly and calmly. DD says, he doesn’t wear the armor of the Conquerors, he greets them as one man to another. His soldiers have taken 2 of his friends and he asks him to return them to him. 

Sayri scornfully asks, do the Spaniards talk of friendship? We offered them this and they wanted only our gold. DD says, he understands his anger, but his quarrel is with men, not a boy and animal. If he’s indeed a man and warrior he’ll understand this. He’ll let him take their place. Sayri turns his eyes away, but he doesn’t answer and DD continues, there’s been too much killing. The world has changed, Spaniards and Incas both. Neither of us can undo what’s been done. We must learn to live together, not die together. DD’s voice rose over the camp, he speaking now of the Incas, reminding them of the wise laws they’d made, of the mighty temples and palaces they’d built. War could do nothing but destroy them, he spoke of their poetry and dances, the history of the ancient tribe. 

To Jason, it seemed DD knew more about the Incas than the Incas themselves. When he finished it was Sayri’s turn to speak, saying, he’s listened with wonder, no Spaniard before having spoken in words we could understand. If the Conquerors could only see we want nothing but to go in peace. If they could see us as men with our own ways… DD says, he shall try to show them, one man can promise nothing, but he shall do his best. Sayri says, this is ransom enough, understanding is better than gold. Take the boy and small black puma, he shall go from here unharmed. 

In his barracks room in Cuzco DD spends 2 days writing at top speed. He hardly took time to eat or sleep, never put on his armor, and paid no attention to the trumpet calls from the square. DD says to Jason, he’s sending a memorandum to the Viceroy, he thinks half the trouble is nobody knows what the Incas are really like. It’s time they find out. Jason couldn’t get over the change in DD, he whistling gaily, walking about briskly, even his mustache looking more cheerful. 

One afternoon, DD burst into the room and brandished a sheet of parchment. He cries, a message from the Viceroy! He wants him to go to Lima and be his adviser! He says it’d be a waste of time, mind you, to have someone like him drilling soldiers all day! DD did a little dance, fell over his own feet, hugged Jason and Gareth, waving a hand at the helmets and breastplates, then crows, no more of this, no more bugles, no more ‘Company, attention!’, now he can just be himself and do what he knows how to do! There’s another note too, he adds with a frown, continuing, he doesn’t understand. It says a cat has arrived from Spain at the request of Don Diego Francisco Hernandez del Gato Herrera y Robles. Now, there’s either 2 of him or his family on his mother’s side has sent 2 cats. He must look into this, meantime he can start packing. DD hurries to the door and says, he’ll be right back, he wants to show the General this later. Somehow he thinks he’ll be very happy about it. 

After he was gone, Jason and Gareth look at each other and Jason, after a moment says, well, he never thought DD would end up in the government. Gareth says, he’ll be good at it. Trying to make someone do what they aren’t really good at is foolish. DD realized this himself, we cats always knew it. How does he think he’d feel if he had to dress up in armor and drill solders all day? Jason says, this is silly, he wouldn’t let anybody do this to him in the first place. Gareth replies, because he know’s he’s a cat. DD’s just found out he’s a man. Jason asks, by the way, what’s DD going to do with 2 cats? Gareth says with a wink, he’ll only have one, because we won’t have time to wait for him. 

Isle of Man 1588

They were suddenly on a narrow beach, sunlight glinting through the cracks of a gray sky, a salty wind humming in Jason’s ears, he saying, he hopes DD found his own cat all right. Gareth answers, he’s sure he did, but look over there. He thinks we’ve found something ourselves. Jason shaded his eyes seeing a tiny speck bob on top of the waves and says, he can’t tell what it is. A piece of wood - it’s too small for a boat. The tide drew the speck closer and in a few minutes it almost reached the shore. 

It was half a barrel, Jason runs and splashes through the surf, inside it, in a nest of sailcloth sat a mother cat and half-a-dozen kittens. As he pulls the barrel to a dry part of the beach, Jason calls, Gareth, come quickly! Gareth trots over to investigate, the mother cat jumping out and looking at Jason suspiciously. It was only then Jason realized she had no tail. 

Gareth tells her, she’s safe now, his friend and he are traveling together. He knows about the privilege. We’re allowed to talk - when we’re alone, of course. Under the circumstances, he’s sure she can talk with him, too. This is if she’d like. The mother cat who was rather portly, plumped herself down on the sand and breathed heavily, and had she been human, Jason would’ve expected her to bring out a hankie and fan herself. All she kept saying was terrible! Simply terrible! Finally after she’d shaken herself and given her coat a few licks she turns to Jason and says, believe her, this is her last sea voyage. The last! He can take her word for it. 

Jason asks, but what would a cat be dong at sea? The tailless cat whose name Jason learns, is Dulcinea replies, for luck, of course. All sailors keep cats aboard ship, don’t tell her he didn’t know this. Her ship was the finest in the Spanish Armada. We were sailing against England, the whole Spanish fleet - this was a sight, let her tell him! Last night a storm came up, she never seeing anything like it in her life. Split us from stem to stem! The first mate picked her kittens and she in a barrel, the best he could do, poor fellow. She can’t say it was comfortable, but at least we stayed afloat. No, never again, she’ll stay on land. Jason comments, he supposes she just used up all her luck. Dulci answers, my dear boy, it’s not her fault the storm came up or the ship was wrecked. Luck is one thing, seamanship is another, she simply can’t be held responsible. 

Jason, realizing he’d been tactless, says, he hopes her kittens are all right. Dulci says, poor things, they had the fright of their lives. She picks herself up from the sand and walks to the barrel, the kittens mewing happily. Jason didn’t like to contradict her, but as far as he could tell they were enjoying the adventure.

Jason still couldn’t get over the fact Dulci didn’t have a tail, her hindquarters round as an orange, back legs high and stilty, giving her a stiff-legged walk which he found quite comical. Dulci, turning around just then, sees Jason grinning, and says, he doesn’t have to stare. Jason apologetically says, he hadn’t meant to, but he’s never seen cats without tails. Was she born this way? Dulci replies, she most certainly was. So was her mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother, and so on as far back as anyone can remember. She’ll have him know she comes from one of the oldest families in Spain. We’ve been associated with the most distinguished nobility - at least 9 grandees, one cardinal, 3 admirals… 

Dulci pronounced a string of Spanish names Jason tried hopelessly to follow. Dulci continues, not one of her kittens has a tail either, she’s proud to say. In her family, we’ve always considered a tail as not quite refined. Gareth, who’d been idly waving his own against the sand, suddenly pulled it around his haunches. Dulci adds quickly, nothing personal, of course, everyone isn’t so fortunate as to be born without one. For the sake of the kittens, Gareth suggested locating food and fresh water. Somewhere, as well, there was bound to be a village, he saying, he’d take a chance on walking farther up the coast. 

Dulci agreed and rather than drag the heavy barrel, as well as to prevent the kittens from wandering off and getting lost, Jason made a knapsack of his shirt. The group set off inland, but not so far as to lose sight of the coast entirely. Clumps of heather grew here, misty green and blue; trees leaned like flags, following the direction of the wind. Gareth says, let’s head for this big fir. 

Dulci blinks questioningly, she doesn’t see any fur. Gareth says, fir! Not fur! The big tree, right up there. Dulci’s whiskers twitched with embarrassment, oh yes, of course, she didn’t understand him. Finally, as they climbed the slope, Dulci admits she hadn’t spent much time on land. Like her kittens, she’d been born at sea. 

Nevertheless, Dulci was the first to discover fresh water, in an ice-cold little storm which played hide-and-seek through a grove of trees. She’d sniffed it out even before Gareth and from the superior expression on her face, Jason guessed this more than made up for the misunderstanding about the fir tree. In the evening, they bed down in leaves and by morning Dulci was awake and up before any of them. For breakfast, she’d hunted a few lizards and beetles, and Jason who’d found nothing for his own breakfast, politely declines her invite to share the meal, although Dulci assured him the beetles were delicious.

Jason tells Gareth, when Dulci was out of hearing range, it’s amazing how well she’s managing to get along. Gareth replies, cats learn how to find their own dinners thousands of years ago, and we’ve never forgotten. Dulci surprised Jason more when on the wooded trail she moved as silently and expertly as Gareth, sometimes going even faster than he thanks to her long hind legs. For a seagoing cat, Dulci had quickly learned more about the land than Jason ever expected to know. 

In the space of a few hours she’d become as familiar with all the hidden meanings of bent twigs, broken blades of grass, the secrets of bird calls, and the direction shown by moss on a tree trunk as if she’d spent her life in the forest. Not only this, Dulci was the first to discover humans, saying to them, down there, toward the coast. This is the smell of a fishing village if she ever smelled one. This time Gareth allowed Dulci to lead the way, and it was exactly as she’d said. 

Just below them, hugging the shore, rose a village of thatched huts, with a small, rickety pier, boats on the sand, and nets spread for mending. The little group headed for the nearest cottage. On the way, a  tall, sunburned young man in a leather tunic on their way, almost walking into them. He paid them no attention, his black brows knitted angrily, his blue eyes crackled, and he striding away without a glance behind him. 

Dulci and the kittens hung back a little, while Jason and Gareth investigate the first cottage. Jason peeps through the half-open door into a small, neat room with a fire glowing on the hearth. Gareth raises his ears at a sound from the corner, in the shadows was sitting a dark-haired young woman, crying as if her heart would break. She heard Jason’s footsteps as he entered the cottage, but she didn’t look up and cries, away with him, Baetan! Can he not take no for his answer? After she said she shall see no more of him? 

Jason says, he begs her pardon. If she said no, she probably had a good reason for it, but he’s not Baetan, and if there’s anything he can do to help… The young woman wipes her face quickly with a white apron, and when she raises her head, Jason sees she had one blue eye and one brown. She angrily says, he can tell this gangling, black-haired lummox to keep himself away from this cottage. Else she’ll have her father after him! She started sobbing. 

Jason stood hesitantly, wondering what he could say or do, but Gareth sprang to the girl’s lap, rubbed his ears against her hand, and purred so loudly she had to stop crying and notice him. Her tears dried, and between sniffles she patted the long, black cat. Gareth rolled over and looked up at her between his paws, so solemn and kittenish at the same time, the girl had to laugh. Then Jason tells her about the shipwreck and the kittens, and asked if she could spare a little food and water, he adds, we’ll move on, of course, he was only hoping tonight… 

She cries, move on? Not a bit of it! Bring in the little ones, all of them. Our old cat died 2 years ago and we’ve had none after. There’s few enough cats on the island. Hurry! It’s been long since she’s seen a kitten. Jason lost no time calling Dulci and her family, the girl kneeling on the floor. She marvels, how handsome they are! How strange, without a tail, but they look all the better for it, so strong and neat. She continues, not stopper her praises, while the kittens pounced at her apron strings.

Dulci, keeping an eye on the little ones, sat on her haunches near the fire and looked perfectly comfortable. She asks Jason, are they his? Would he give her one? Jason replies, they’re not his, but if Dulci likes it here, and she certainly seems to, he doesn’t see why she can’t keep them all. The girl was so pleased at this she hurried to the cupboard and put down 7 small bowls of fish. 

Immediately, Dulci and the little ones were eating and purring. The girl states, look at them, she knows they’ll be happy here, and they shall stay. Jason learns her name was Awin. In the evening when her father, Maughold came back from fishing, he was as delighted as his daughter with the new arrivals. 

Maughold was sun-blackened and gray-headed, with a broad, friendly face and a nose which jutted out like one of the cliffs of the island. He played with the kittens also, pretending to swat at them with his rough sailor’s hands. The kittens made a game of leaping for his fingers and hanging on by their claws, but Maughold’s hands scarred by fish knives and toughened by salt water, were as hard as leather. One kitten clung to each finger while Maughold pulled them across the floor - the 6th kitten tried to climb up his jacket. 

After dinner Maughold sat back in his chair and took Dulci on his lap, as if she’d always lived in the house. Stroking the tailless cat, he talked of his day on the boat: the catch of herring, the bad weather. He adds, he didn’t see Baetan out this day. Awin, with a flash of annoyance says, Baetan was here. She sent him away, for the last time, she hopes. 

Maug shakes his head sadly saying, ah, this would be nothing to take pride in. Why must she treat him so cruelly? The poor lad’s sick for the love of her, and she can’t tell him she has nothing in her heart for him. He’s seen her watch him when she thought he wasn’t looking. Awin turns away and says, she wants none of him. Maug sighs and says, if her mother were only alive. It’s a woman’s work to tell her how wrong she is. Awin says, no. 

Jason is then surprised when she continues, no man wants an ugly woman. No woman wants to be married out of pity. Look at me! She cries, has he not seen her eyes often enough? One blue! One brown! Maug asks, and what is this to Baetan? He’s sure he likes one as well as the other. He’s as impartial as a herring’s backbone, for he favors neither side and is attached to both! Awin sobs and hides her face in her apron saying, she’s too ugly!

Maug asks, ugly? Beauty’s inside, not on the face, and the handsomest lass on the island would be ugly if she believed herself so. If a person thinks he’s ugly, why then he starts to act in an ugly, cruel way. As she does now with Baetan! Awin hears no more, for running from the room and slamming the door behind her. The name of the island was Man, the people, Manxmen, it a tiny spot in the sea between Ireland and England. Jason wondered whether the fishermen were Irish or English, Gareth answering, a little of both, and neither one more the other.

As much as anything, they’re Norsemen, long ago some of their ancestors being Vikings. Jason knew the Vikings were great sailors and could well believe the Manxmen were related to them, for they seemed more at home in their boats than anywhere else. When the men went to sea, the little village was practically deserted. Maug in fact, was pleased to have Jason stay and help Awin with the chores in the cottage. 

The kittens showed no signs of wanting to leave, they loved the beach. Every morning they spilled out of the cottage door and raced after one another like sandpipers. They chased the gulls, who squawked indignantly at them, batted shells back and forth, and examined the tiny scuttling crabs hiding in the wet sand. Often, small waves crept up unexpectedly and washed over their paws, the tailless kittens leaping wildly then, and one of them trying to chase the waves back to the sea. 

When the fishermen launched their beats in the surf, the kittens were always underfoot - curious, eager to jump aboard. Those times, Dulci called them back with a firm commanding mew. Dulci says to Jason and Gareth when they were alone, as she said before she wants nothing more to do with the sea. The little ones will simply have to enter another profession. No kitten of hers will sail on a boat as long as she has anything to say about it. When news came of Sir Francis Drake and the English fleet having defeated the Armada, Jason suggested Dulci might go to England, even to Queen Elizabeth’s court in London. 

Dulci mused, yes, a life at court might be suitable. Yet she made no attempt to follow Jason’s suggestion, although he and Gareth offered to voyage with her. If anything, Dulci seemed to be making herself quite at home on the Isle of Man. She had a favorite corner near the fireplace, and she never failed to jump on Maui’s lap when he returned, smelling of salt and fog. 

Jason believed Dulci didn’t dislike the sea as much as she pretended. Some days, after calling the kittens away from the shore, she’d go down to the beach herself and watch the boats until they disappeared. Then she’d sit alone by the hour, gazing out to sea. Awin, too sat alone, and when Baetan was ashore, he’d always stop by the cottage, she always making sure she was busy until he went away again. 

Afterwards, she’d sit on a chair in front of the cottage and, like Dulci, stare across the water. Awin’s only amusement was playing with the kittens, and in this Jason and Gareth were happy to join her. Jason watches Awin out of the corner of his eye and says, they’re funny-looking little things. Awin replies indignantly, funny-looking? She thinks they’re beautiful. 

Jason says, so does he really, he just wanted to see if she’d agree with him. Awin gives a short laugh and says, what a silly thing to do. She thought they were beautiful the first moment she saw them. Jason says, then he can’t understand it. They’re different from ordinary cats, and yet she likes them, but she still worries because her eyes are different from other people’s. This doesn’t make sense to him. Awin turns away and says, it’s no concern of his.

Jason goes on, Dulci is very proud because she doesn’t have a tail, she feels very distinguished about it. Awin asks, and how would a boy know what’s in a cat’s mind? Jason replies, he… he can guess. Look at her herself look at the way she holds her head. Awin reluctantly admitted, yes, she’s a proud cat. 

Jason asks, then why shouldn’t she be proud, too? Awin flushed and says quickly, away with him, boy, there’s work to be done. During the night Jason noticed Awin glancing at herself in a tiny mirror which she hid away in her apron as soon as Maug entered the cottage, and when Baetan stopped by, her protests weren’t quite as strong as usual. Maug says one evening, our luck’s not with us, they’d think there wasn’t a herring in the sea. 

Jason says, when Dulci used to be a sailor’s cat, she brought everybody luck, at least until the shipwreck. Maug shook his head and says, ah, this is one cat will never go near the boats, he’s watched her. She’s scared of them, so are the kittens. No, they’re real house cats. He sighs heavily and continues, more’s the pity, we could use a little luck. If things keep on this way, there’ll be empty stomachs in the village. On his lap, Dulci looked up questioningly at the fisherman and Maug strokes her head, saying, but there’s nothing she can do about it, old girl. 

Before dawn Jason and Gareth woke to the sound of the fishermen shouting to each other, hauling their boats into the surf. Boy and cat go outdoors into the chilly blue mist. Dulci was there ahead of them, sitting on the doorstep, watching. The kittens sat solemnly next to her. 

Awin was there, too, and her eyes, Jason saw, were on Baetan. At the water’s edge, Maug stopped and waved goodbye to his daughter, and calls to Dulci, and her too, old girl, mind she will be waiting for us when we come back. Wish us all luck! Dulci crouched forward her body quivering, but she didn’t move from the doorstep. Further down the beach Baetan waved at Awin and cries, and him? Awin, will she not at least wish him luck? 

Awin raises her hand timidly and whispers, luck, Baetan. Then suddenly, apron flying, she ran to the beach and into Baetan’s arms. Jason says to Gareth, he guesses she decided she was pretty after all. Gareth replies, everybody is if they give themselves a chance. 

A gray and black streak shot past Jason’s legs. It was Dulci, running as fast as her stilty legs would carry her, straight for Maug. The kittens sped after her, each one leaping into different boat. The little fishing fleet drove into the waves, a kitten at every bow. 

In Maui’s boat, Dulci sat proudly - a secant once again. The tide foamed over the beach. The ocean filled the footprints where boy and cat had stood. 

Germany 1600

The waves turned into peaked roofs of a village in Germany. The clouds hung motionless above the mountains, the sun shining brightly, but across the empty market place, the buildings as silent as unused toys, the closed shutters turning the houses blind. Gareth arched his neck and sniffed the air, saying, there’s something coppery and smoky, like wood burning. Something sour and bitter which stings his nose and makes him feel crackly. 

Jason asks, on he tell what it is? Gareth says, yes. This is what fear smells like. He thinks we’d better move along. He heads for the far side of the cobbled square, Jason hurrying after him. At the corner, something buzzed past Jason’s head, a stone rattling over the start. 

It’d barely missed Gareth, another whistling closer to the black cat. Gareth put down his ears and ran, behind him Gareth clattering into a winding street. Gareth ducks around a corner and skids through a dark alleyway. By the time Jason caught up with him, Gareth had sprung to one of the slanting roofs. 

These, Jason realizes, were the backs of the houses over looking the square. Stone walls rose on all sides of him and shut out the sun. Gareth climbed to a chimney, midway, stopping and crouching, bending his head to the roof as if inspecting a mouse hole. Jason clambered after him and whispers as loud as he can, Gareth! This is no time to look for mice! 

Gareth waves his tail and replies, it isn’t mice, see for himself. Jason noticed a crack between the timbers of the roof and puts his eye to it and found he could see directly into a little chamber below. There, wearing what looked like a nightshirt painted with strange designs, a sharp-nosed man was puttering around a three-legged brazier. He dropped a pinch of something on the glowing coals and a cloud smoke puffed up. 

The man, picking up a long rod and tracing a circle of smoke puffed up, exclaims, by the sprit of Zazamonkh! He went tramping around the circle, first in one direction, then the other. With his pointed nose and shaking jowls, he looked very much like a turkey. The man cries, Asmodeus! Ahriman! Beelzebub! Appear! He commands them! 

The turkey-faced man stopped walking in circles. He picked up a large pot, dipped his fingers into it, and brought out a sticky gob of ointment. This he proceeded to rub over his face, head, and arms, and shouts, spirits, he conjures them! Nothing happened and the man dropped his pot of ointment and his magic rod, and sat down disgustedly in the middle of the circle. 

Jason says, why, he’s a sorcerer! He’s trying to cast a spell. Gareth replies, he isn’t very good at it, either. Come on. Gareth let himself slide down the roof. Jason picked his way carefully, then jumped to the ground. 

Gareth says, we’ll go through here. It should bring us out at the end of the street. We’ll be hidden most of the way. He hopes whoever threw the rock isn’t waiting for us. His aim might’ve improved. Where the alley ended, they made a dash across the open square. Hurrying along, staying close to the walls, they soon reached the outskirts of the village. There, in a garden, an old woman was pulling up radishes.

It was the first sign of life they’d seen. As soon as the woman caught sight of them, she straightened up. The radishes tumbled out of her apron, and she cries, hurry! Hurry! Get into the house! Before Jason knew what was happening, she seized his shoulders and pushed him to the cottage door, Gareth bounding into the room ahead of them. 

The woman exclaims, foolish boy, on the streets, in broad daylight - with a cat! Hurriedly she locked the door and slammed the shutters tight. Jason says, but we were only walking by. She replies, this is enough. She can tell they’re strangers here. Haven’t they come to their village yet? She thought they were everywhere. 

Jason asks, who hasn’t come? The woman says, the witch hunters, who else? It’s been like this for months. Somebody - she doesn’t even know who - started the idea there were witches here. Since then, we’ve had no peace. If anyone stubs his toe or gets sick, if anyone’s garden doesn’t grow right - there’s a witch to blame! The witch hunters find them. This is, they’ll find somebody. It doesn’t matter who. After, it’s terrible. She can’t talk about what they do to them. And the cats! Oh, the poor little things. They say devils hide in them. 2 days ago the witch hunters drowned 50 - and burned another 50. Poor suffering animals. Her little tabby was with them. The woman sank to a chair and shook with weeping, Jason putting his hand on her shoulder. The woman turned a tear-stained face to him and sobs, she couldn’t save hers. She’s tried to help the others, but it’s little use. There’s no kind of worriment or wickedness they won’t put on a cat. Cats have the evil eye, to bewitch whatever they look at. They can turn themselves invisible or fly through the air. They take the shape of a witch, and a witch takes the shape of a cat. It’s all one and the same. The witch hunters catch more cats than she can ever save. Now there’s hardly one left in the village, and her little tabby is gone!

The woman started sobbing again and Gareth sprang to her lap, rubbing his head against her cheek and purring and kneading gently with his claws, trying all the ways known to a cat to comfort her. She calmed a little and stroked Gareth gracefully, and says, he must go to the miller, Master Johannes. Tell him Mistress Ursulina begs him to help him and his cat. Master Johannes is the only man in Lindheim with all his wits in his head. He’s an honest man, he knows cats are no devils. Why, he himself says the mice would destroy his grain without a cat to guard it. She’s sent others to Johannes, he’ll treat them with kindness. Ursulina wipes her eyes with her eyes with her apron and says, but she can tell he needs something to eat. From a cupboard she took down bread and cheese for Jason and herself and carefully poured a bowl of milk for Gareth, who’d hardly started to lap the milk and Jason was in the midst of putting a morsel of cheese to his lips when a loud knocking rattled the cottage door. 

Ursulina started up and says, out of sight! These days, visitors bring only trouble. Hurriedly she drew Jason to the cupboard. It was barely high enough for him to squeeze into. Gareth perched on a shelf, and Ursulina hobbles to the door. 

Without trying to hid her annoyance, she says, so it’s him. Jason heard an oily voice answer, he wishes her a good afternoon. He was passing her cottage and he said to himself, ah, perhaps this is the day Ursulina will make up her mind. Ursulina says firmly, if he’s passing her cottage, Master Speckfresser, he has come far out of his way for nothing. He’s right, she’s made up her mind, as she made it up long ago. The answer is no, and no again! Speckfresser clucks, tut, tut, tut. She shows her temper too much. What use is this field to her? His own land is on 3 sides of it. He should like to fill out his property, a reasonable aim for one in his position, but it’s not reasonable for her to refuse to sell. 

Ursulina replies, he may be the richest man in Lindheim, but this piece of ground belongs to her. It’s her garden; she’s care for it; it’s the only little happiness of her old age. Speckfresser, voice turning cold, says, if she won’t sell, he must remind her, dear lady, there are other ways to get the land he wants. The town council takes over the property of a witch - after she’s be duly roasted, of course. As head of the council, he decides what happens to the property. Ursulina cries, he’d denounce her as a witch! He dare not! She’s done nothing. Speckfresser says, this remains to be seen. If he were to say he’d seen her casting spells or riding on a broomstick, would the judges take the word of an old hag against the word of Master Speckfresser? He sees the table is set for 2. Yet there’s only one of her. And… - he pauses a moment, then says, something else. When did a cupboard start wearing shoes? 

He strode across and flung open the door and says, a boy! And a cat! Better and better! Are these her familiars? Does this black cat do her devil’s work? Gareth spat and bushed his tail. Speckfresser cries, aha! The devil fears the powers of righteousness! Jason shouts angrily, he doesn’t fear him! He doesn’t fear anything! He heard what he said. If he tries to hurt Ursulina, he’ll tell them all about it. 

Speckfresser’s face turns purple and his cheeks trembled, shaking his fist at Jason, sputtering threaten him? He thinks the council will be interested to know Ursulina has been entertaining demons! Speckfresser turns on his heel and stamps out of the cottage. Ursulina claps a hand to her forehead and says, he has ruined himself, poor boy. Now they’ll arrest him, too! Jason insists, but if he tells them what happened, how can they harm any of us? We aren’t witches, and his cat isn’t a devil, and this is all there is to this. 

Ursulina cries, son, son, doesn’t he understand? This makes no difference. Once they accuse, there’s no hope. He must go to Johannes at once. He’ll hide him; he’ll help him get out of the village. Jason says, he’s not going to run away. She replies, he must! Jason responds, then she come with us, if she doesn’t we’ll stay right here. 

Ursulina sighs, and says, very well, but he shall go on ahead. The 3 of us must not be seen together. This would fit Speckfresser’s plan too well. From a corner she took a wicker basket and says, here, carry his cat in this. She puts the basket on the floor. Jason quickly put Gareth inside and closed the lid, saying, he’ll tell Johannes she’s on her way to the mill. 

Ursulina says, yes, yes, but hurry! Limping along as fast as she cold’s he led Jason out of the cottage, and directs, go past the fields, then turn left. The mill is there, by the stream. Clutching the basket, Jason set off along the road. If the days in Egypt had been the greatest times for a cat, Jason thinks, the days in this village must be the worse, but how did Master Speckfresser dare accuse the poor woman of being a witch? 

Jason had quickly recognized the man’s sharp nose and shaking jowls. It was Master Speckfresser who’d been wearing the painted nightshirt, with grease smeared all over his head. Johannes was the biggest man Jason had ever seen, and was working in his low stone house, whistling merrily between his teeth and covered with flour from head to foot. While the mill wheel clattered noisily in the stream outside. 

Johannes carried the enormous bags of grain, one under each arm, as if they weighed no more than feather pillows. Beneath the dusting of flour, his face was ruddy and his eyes good-natured, but when Jason told him what’d happened in Ursulina’s cottage, the miller frowned and stopped whistling. He snorts and says, Speckfresser! The greedy gobbler! Well, he has Johannes to deal with now! Jason lifted the basket lid so Gareth could come out and stretch, the miller crying, so ho! Is this another of Speckfresser’s devils? 

He picked up the cat and balanced him on his outstretched palms. The miller’s hands were so broad Gareth seemed lost in them and as tiny as a kitten. Johannes comments, he’s a handsome one, setting Gareth down. Jason noticed for all their size the miller’s fingers were deft and gentle; when Johannes patted Gareth, his hands were as light as moths’ wings and left behind them the same dusty traces.

Johannes takes Gareth and Jason into the cool twilight of the mill, and made them comfortable at a sturdy wooden table. Johannes says, he’s heard enough of witches. The whole village has gone mad with them, since now if an honest man puts his head out the door after dark, some rogue calls him a witch! Now they have laws against witches, but the more laws they have, the more witches they find! Today, there’s one in every corner. Senseless, stupid fools! Have they nothing better to think of? Let them trifle with him and his friends. They’ll find him a bigger handful than some poor scarecrow terrified out of his wits. Jason expected Ursulina to reach the mill long before now. As the time passed, Johannes too, started to grow anxious, and says, he’ll go to the cottage and find what’s amiss. Wait for him, don’t stir from here. 

It was well after nightfall when Johannes returned, his face flush with anger, and says grimly, they’ve arrested her. Nobody wants to talk much, but from what little he could find out, she must have changed her mind about coming here. She went to the village instead, and his guess is she told Speckfresser she’d sell her field. It must’ve been the only way she thought he’d let Jason alone. Speckfresser’s a gobbler, but he knows very well what he’s doing. All he had to do was accuse her of witchcraft; he’d be bound to get the land for nothing. So why should he pay? Ursulina’s in prison right now, waiting to be tried, and he doubts they’ll take long about it. Jason caught his breath, thinking, a woman, a stranger, was willing to give up her life for him and Gareth, and cries, but it’s not fair. How can Speckfresser accuse anybody? He’s a sorcerer himself! Johannes straightened up and asks, what’s this he says? Jason tells the miller what he’d seen on his way through the village. 

Johannes shouts, the fraud! The cheating gobbler! He’d like to have him under his mill wheel! Johannes thought for a moment, then says, there must be something we can do. It’s no good accusing him; it’d be his word against ours. Besides, he wouldn’t accuse anybody of witchcraft, not even Speckfresser, not after what he’s seen them do to witches. Jason asks, could we make him take back what he said about Ursulina? Johannes says, withdraw his charges? Not Speckfresser. Then, snapping his fingers, says, wait a minute! There’s a way. We’ll have to take a chance, but if it works… 

Johannes flings open a clothespress and moments later, Jason was dressed all in black, with a broad black hat pulled down over his ears. With a handful of soot from the fireplace, Johannes blackened Jason’s face. Johannes laughs and says, his cat’s all right as he is. Come on, now, he’ll tell him his plan on the way. In the light of a torch Johannes hitched up his cart; Gareth and Jason climb on and Johannes slaps the reigns on the horse’s back and they move off at a good trot toward the village. 

Leaving Johannes at the town square, Jason followed Gareth silently to the alleyway where Gareth finds the back of Speckfresser’s house and the 2 friends climb stealthily to the roof, Gareth’s eyes blazing in the moonlight. Jason says, he looks wonderful, just right. Now if they’re lucky… He bent his head to the crack. As Johannes had said, all depended on whether Speckfresser was trying to work his sorcery, and since the town dock had just started tolling midnight, the witching hour, there was a good chance he was. 

Still, it was no more than a chance, Jason squinting, trying to focus on the room below. Jason states, he’s there! Watching the turkey-faced man dressed as he’d been the first time they’d seen him tramping around his circle, then continuing, he’s trying out his spells again. Gareth murmurs, he’ll never learn. All right, he’ll go first. 

He leaps to the chimney and balances on the peaked roof, over the open stone well, then dives. Jason lowered himself in after Gareth, an instant later falling downward in a shower of soot and loose stones. His toes scraped brick and clouds of dust billowed in his face, Gareth bristling and spitting, having already leaped from the fireplace into the chamber. Through the drifting soot Jason saw Speckfresser, mouth open with terror, too terrified to scream. 

He points his forefinger and little finger at the cat and boy. Jason says, he called us. Master Speckfresser gulped, choking out, called them? Jason goes on in a hollow voice, it’s his practice to summon demons. We’re here. What’s his command? 

Speckfresser says through chattering teeth, now they’re here he can’t seem to think of anything. His command is: leave immediately. Both of them. Please, he didn’t mean to disturb them. Gareth meantime, had perched on a stack of the would-be sorcerer’s books of magic, where he snarled and bared his teeth in a most frightful way. Speckfresser pleads, and if he doesn’t mind, take the smaller devil, too. Jason says, he’s disturbed others in this village. He’s caused an old woman to be thrown into prison. He must withdraw his accusation, otherwise she may be burned.

Speckfresser nods hastily, jowls quivering, and says, yes, yes, he’ll withdraw… hesitates a moment then asks, wait… why should a demon plead to save a victim from the fire? Demons delight in fires… He looks closer at Jason, then seizes him by the collar, and shouts, demons! He’s no more demon than himself! He’s the boy in Ursulina’s cupboard, this is no devil, this is only a cat! Jason says, Master Speckfresser, his game is ruined. He accused Mistress Ursulina of entertaining devils; now he admits we aren’t devils, and if we aren’t, Ursulina must go free! Speckfresser storms, he admits nothing! 

Jason replies, then he’ll go to the council and tell them about his spells - which don’t even work. Johannes doesn’t want him hurt, but this is his last chance. Speckfresser, snatching a sickle-shaped knife and cries, he’ll never leave this room! Jason dodges the sweeping blade, Johannes should have gotten here by now, he too big for the chimney, and had planned to burst into Speckfresser’s chamber and apply some additional arguments. Jason leaps from one side to the other, as the knife whistled around his ears. 

He thinks desperately, where was Johannes? Then, with a gasp of relief Jason hears the door splinter and crash from its hinges, Speckfresser stopping in his tracks. Jason pulls the hat off and raised his head, Johannes standing in the doorway, but he was surrounded by guards. One of the guards steps forward and levels his pike, saying, he’s under arrest, all of them! 

Speckfresser throws back his head and cackles gleefully, try to ruin his plan? It’s the bonfire for him, my lad! The guard repeats gruffly, all of them, him, too, Master Speckfresser. He ordered the arrest of Johannes. We caught him in the village, then came to him to ask for further instructions, but from what he sees here… the guard gestures with his pike, and continues, he’s as much a witch as anyone. This means automatic arrest. Speckfresser shrieks, he’s not a witch! He drops to his knees and continues, his spells don’t work, ask the boy and cat. It was only amusement, he babbles, finishing, let Ursulina go free. He can explain…. 

The guard says, he’ll have a chance to do this when he meets the judges. Now move! 4 humans and one cat huddled on the dap straw of the cell. It was too dark to see Speckfresser’s face, but Jason imagined it wasn’t very jolly. Johannes orders impatiently, leave off this sniveling and whining, you gobbler. It’s his fault we’re all here. If he hadn’t lied and tried to swindle honest people… 

Speckfresser sniffs again and in a tiny voice, says, he’s sorry. He never thought it’d turn out this way. Jason says, he’s quite sure he didn’t. The wretched Speckfresser snuffles, it’s hard to believe things can be so disagreeable until they happen to him. Ursulina quietly strokes Gareth, and Johannes shifts uncomfortably on the hard stone floor and says, what he doesn’t understand is why he kept on with this ridiculous sorcery business. He should’ve seen it didn’t work, and if it had, he’s sure he wouldn’t have liked the results. 

Speckfresser says, after all the talk in the village about witches, - how they fly through the air, make themselves invisible, turn straw into gold - he just thought to himself, why not try it. He always wanted to do those things. Johannes says, well, they can’t be done, and if he’d put as much effort into honest work as he did into those spells, he’d have had all the gold he wanted. Speckfresser sighs, saying, yes, he’s right. A large tear rolls down his nose, then saying, but he’ll explain everything. The judges will listen to him. 

However, a few hours later when the guards led Jason and the others to the council room, the judges hardly glancing at Speckfresser. The eldest judge, a bony, black-robed man with a lantern jaw and eyes as sharp as thorns, shuffled through some parchment sheets on the table, and starts licking his lips, as if tasting every word, saying, we’ve studied his case thoroughly. Johannes shouts, he’s had no time to study anything. The judge pays no attention, his little eyes turning sharper than ever as he read from his parchments saying each verdict separately, the accused witch, Johannes, Ursulina, Speckfresser: guilty. One demon disguised as a boy disguised as a demon: guilty. One demon disguised as a cat: guilty. 

The judge sets down his papers and says, they’ll be burned at the stake in the morning. He adds with a smile, believe him, this is all for their own good. Johannes jumps up, we’ll decide our own good! With one motion of his powerful arms, he tips over the judge’s table. 

The sheets of parchment went flying. The guards, who had been half-dozing, sprang forward. In the confusion one drops his pike and stumbles into his neighbor. Seizing his chair in one hand, the burly miller swung about him. 

A window smashed, and one of Johannes’ fists sent a guard sprawling to the wall. Johannes bellows, out, friends! This is no place for an honest man! The judges shout at the guards, and the guards shout at each other, the demons are loose! Warn the village! Johannes battered his way through the door, then snatched Ursulina and put her over his shoulder. 

Jason and Gareth tumble down the steps into the market place, with Speckfresser, gasping and gurgling, bringing up the rear. Johannes’ cart was still tied near the alleyway behind Speckfresser’s house. The band of escaping demons leaped onto it. The alarm bell in the stone tower started ringing frantically. 

The scared horses dashed forward and the cart lurched after them. The road through the forest stretched quietly ahead in the moonlight. With the village far behind Johannes drops the reigns and lets the horses set their own pace, while the cart wheels creaked over scattered leaves, he saying, they won’t come after us now. They really think we’re demons - this is the ridiculous part of it, and he doubts they have the stomach for chasing demons after dark. Ursulina says, she owes him her life, Master Johannes, but he’s lost his mill, his trade… 

Johannes laughs and says, a miller can always find a mill waiting for him, and she shall keep house for him. Speckfresser pipes up, what about him? Johannes says, oh, him. Well, if he behaves himself, Speckfresser, he can be his apprentice. He’ll teach him how to work for a change. Speckfresser clucks, him, a miller? Why… 

When he sees the look Johannes gave him, he stops and says, … naturally. It should be a very healthy life. He always enjoys bread. When the cart reached a turn in the road Gareth seemed to grow restless and Jason tells Johannes, he thinks we’d better leave him here. Johannes, Ursulina, and even Speckfresser protest, but there was a tone in Jason’s voice which Johannes couldn’t deny. He reigned up the cart and clapped Jason on the shoulder, and says, good luck, boy. If he should change his mind, he can still catch up with us on this road. 

Jason and Gareth hopped down, and the cart pulled away. Jason states, he’ll be glad to get out of here. This is a terrible place. It’s bad enough for humans, but what about the cats? If these people keep on there won’t be any cats left! Gareth says, they’ll stop someday. For awhile. They they’ll start up again, a little differently, but still much the same, and so it’ll go, off and on, until people stop being superstitious, scared of the dark and afraid of each other. Jason asks, but in the meantime, what can he do? 

Gareth replies, survive and hope. Jason shakes his head, and says, in Egypt they thought he was a god. Here they think he’s a demon. Won’t anyone ever understand he’s a cat? Gareth says, we’re waiting. It takes patience, but this is one thing cats have a lot of. Why, even a kitten knows if one waits long enough someone’s bound to open the door. Jason could still see the cart in the distance. 

In the moonlight he glimpses Johannes raise his hand. Jason raises his own hand in farewell. The cart lumbers out of sight, then the road was completely empty. 

America 1775

There was still a road, but it’d changed. Under a sky streaked with the pale blue of early spring the fields whispered like sleepers about to waken. Jason pulled the flaps of his 3-cornered hat over his ears and turned up his jacket collar. Gareth padded ahead, his eyes narrowed against the breeze. 

Jason hears the clip-clop of hoofs behind him, and turns to see a gaily painted wagon swing around a bend of the road. A sheet of canvas rose like a tent over the front half of the wagon. Boxes, bolts of cloth, teakettles, pots, and pans filled the back. The driver, a lanky lean fellow, with eyes as bright as a bird’s, wore an enormous cocked hat with a bunch of rooster feathers pinned to it. 

As soon as he saw Jason he gave a warbling, triple-toned whistle. The horse moved a bit faster, and soon the wagon was abreast of Jason and Gareth. The driver calls, he won’t get far at the rate he’s going. Hop in, he and his furry companion, they can ride to Boston if he isn’t in a hurry. Gareth jumps to the wooden seat and Jason hoists himself up after the cat. 

The driver raised his hat, addressing Gareth as well as Jason, and says, gentlemen, allow him to present himself. Professor Peter Perseverance Parker at his service, holder of 97 different honors, orders, medals and the highest recommendations from the crowned heads of every continent. At present engaged in the enlightenment and instruction of his fellow countrymen. Jason asks, does this mean he’s a teacher? Professor Parker, reaching over and pulling a coin from Jason’s ear says, in the very noblest sense of the word, my boy. Instruction can take many forms. His unwavering goal is to bring the benefits of civilization to the honest toilers int he farthest reaches of this terrestrial paradise. Instruction, in this case, may take the form of a humble pot or pan. Jason nods and says, oh, he’s a peddler.

Professor Parker draws himself up indignantly and asks, a peddler? How can he term an undertaking of such magnitude mere peddling? He bends and pulls a coin from Gareth’s ear and says, consider this shilling - in itself no more than a piece of metal, but when it buys a teakettle, a packet of pins, a yard of cloth - it is gloriously translated in to comfort and convenience. It’s his solemn duty to help in this translation. Of course, he does have his own specialties. He drew a handbill from his sleeve and passed it over to Jason who studied it with interest. At first Jason couldn’t quite make it out until he realized all the S’s had been printed as long, sloping F’s: PERPETUAL MOUfETRAPf!!! Professor Parker offerf, at a Modeft Prife, to thofe in Neede of Them, Nature’f fineft Moufetrap. If well car’d for and given much Loving Kindeff, they will be GUARANTEED TO PLEAfE!!! 

Jason asks, mousetraps? Parker says, nature’s finest, as his advertisement states. Look in the back of the wagon. Jason turns around, lifts a flap of the tent, and peers down at a dozen neat wicker cages, each on holding a chubby kitten. Parker says, those kittens have been given to him by some of the finest families in Boston, who ask only a good home for them. It’s his task to see they get it. Ask anyone in the colonies. 

Jason relaxed a little, although seriously doubting Parker had 97 medals, Jason somehow having the feeling he really did like cats. Besides, Gareth always seemed to know who he could trust, and the black cat was resting calmly on the seat. Professor Parker goes on, what civilization would be complete without a cat. What greater blessing to the home than the kindly yet watchful eye of this tiger of the fireside? Parker’s Perpetual Mousetraps are known far and wide. Why, without his services he doubts if he’d find a cat west of Boston. By this time the wagon was rattling into a little village. 

As soon as the children spied it, they left their games to race after it. Parker reins up near the village green and the children clustered around him. Parker whistles some fancy bird calls, pulls coins out of ears, and even juggles 3 flashing balls. The village women hurried to look at the stocks of cloth and tinware. 

The spare, weathered men, some carrying muskets, examined the axes and saws. 2 men walked to the side of the wagon, where Parker was displaying one of his Perpetual Moufetrapf to a wide-eyed little girl. Jason hears one of them ask, how goes it in Boston? Parker put down the wicker cage, and Jason expects Parker to start one of his speeches about a glorious something or other. 

Instead, his face turned grim and he spoke very quietly, a keg of powder waiting for the spark. The man says, we’ll be ready if we’re called. Parker answers, he’ll have the news as soon as it comes. Sam Adams has horsemen to carry it. Does he drill his men? The man answers, every day. Give us a minutes notice and there’ll be 50 of us to go against the Lobsterbacks, but we need more muskets, more powered and shot. 

Parker says, so do we all. Hancock’s doing everything he can. We’re gathering our supplies. Don’t think it’s easy in Boston. Adams and Hancock don’t dare show their faces. There’s an order for their arrest. The man whistled through his teeth and says, the Lobsters have gone this far then? Parker says, they’ll go farther. They’ll push us to the wall with bayonets. The man cries angrily, what, do they take us for, cowards? Let it begin now, he says. Enough is enough. He’s had his fill of lobster? 

Parker says, in time, in time. He’ll have his chance soon enough. Until then, keep his musket clean. With a wink Parker took a shilling out of the man’s nose and swung up on the wagon. The wagon creaks out of the village and down the road, heading for distant farms. The horse seemed to have his own ideas about how fast to go and which way to take. 

Parker leans back in the seat, let the reigns go slack, and tipped his feather-trimmed hat over his eyes. Jason asks, what did this man mean back there when he said he had his fill of lobster? Parker says, Homarus vulgaris, the European lobster, as opposed to Homarus americanus, the tasty denizen of our American waters. The British variety of Homarus vulgaris also abounds in these parts and is notable for its bright red coat and large claws, which snap at everything within reach. A very prickly customer, especially when carrying a musket with bayonet. In short, my boy, a Lobster, Lobsterback, a Redcoat - whatever he chooses to call it. He calls it a plague, visited upon us by His Most Gracious and Incredibly High Stubbornness, King George the Third. Our friend in the village didn’t mean to imply he had his fill of Homarus americanus. Of the other variety, he dare say we have all had our fill. We have paid our taxes to the mighty King of Lobsters, and taxes on the taxes; we have asked this crabby Lobster King to treat us as men, to give us the same rights as any of his other subjects, to give us what belongs to us in the first place. Since he refuses… Parker shrugs, and asks, what can we do but take them?

Jason looked silently at the Professor for a long moment, then says, first he thought he was a teacher. Then he thought he was a peddler. Now he doesn’t think he’s either one. Parker chuckles and says, why not a little of both? A peddler can carry some ideas along with his pots and pans. Liberty’s a big idea, but it can fit in a teakettle. He sells the teakettles, and put in the liberty free of charge. Jason asks, but what about the kittens? Parker says, he’ll have to get busy about this. There’s a lot of Perpetual Mousetraps waiting for homes. You know, countries are like cats. They like to settle down in their own ways, but they want their freedom, too. They’ll fight for it if they have to. 

Jason, gives Gareth an admiring pat says, he knows his cat won’t let anybody order him around. Parker adds, especially not lobsters. Well, this is the way it is here, and if things keep on, there’s going to be the biggest cat and lobster fight he ever saw! At night they camped along the road, and at dawn Parker hitched up the horse, slapped the reins, and after a few miles turned in at a farmhouse. Here, the farmer was tall, black-bearded, with heavy callouses on his hands. 

Jason talked with him and learned he and his family had come from Canada, and before this, from France, but he called himself an American now. He hadn’t owned the farm long, and after the last harvest the rats had almost ruined his grain. Parker sold him 2 kittens and tells the farmer, they’ll grow up with the land and they’ll love it as much as he does. They’ll work as hard as he does, not because they’re slaves but because they’re creatures of freedom, living their lives as is natural for them. 

At the next farm Jason met a little girl as pretty and happy as the April morning. She claps her hands with delight when Parker’s wagon appeared; but, unlike the other children, she didn’t run to greet him. Jason saw why, being the little girl was lame. Parker offers to her one of the finest and most beautiful of all the kittens. 

Parker tells Jason later, he’ll race and leap and climb trees for her, and because he’ll love her, it’ll be just as if she herself were doing all those things. She’ll see his courage and it’ll remind her to keep up her own. If she should ever cry - and all of us do, sometime or another - he’ll have velvet paws to comfort her. Farther down the road Parker drove up to a small cottage, where an elderly couple lived, whose children and grandchildren had grown up and who were happy to spend their days looking after their own plot of ground. When they learned Parker had kittens in the wagon, they were as pleased as if the little cats had been their own young grandchildren. They chose a handsome black-and-white kitten with green eyes. 

Parker says to Jason, in the evenings when they sit by the fire and their hands touch, as they did long ago, their cat will purr quietly to them, because a cat has many memories himself, he’ll understand theirs. Like them, he’ll be content to rest at the end of the day. At the next farm Jason tried quickly to hid his surprise, for one of the girls of the family had his surprise, for one of the girls of the family had the same long hair, the same laughing blue eyes as Diahan in Erin, but her name, she told Jason, was Eileen O’Day. She put her hands on her hips and looked at him boldly and says, and he had no need to stare as if he’d seen a ghost! She turned away, but Jason noticed she glanced at him when she didn’t think he’d notice.

The cat she chose was ginger-colored, the wildest of all. Parker says, those 2 will find their own mischief together. There’ll be games of hide-and-seek, as well as chasing pretty ribbons. There might even be a few broken dishes, and pouting which can turn into laughter like quicksilver, and laughter which turns into tears and back again. Later, she’ll whisper her dreams and secrets to him, and he’ll listen very solemnly, and because a cat is wise and understands secrets, he’ll never breathe a word of them to anyone. Parker nods and says, yes, they’ll have secrets together. Perhaps she’ll tell him about a young lad who’s caught her heart. She’ll tell her cat about it before she ever tells the lad, he can be sure. Parker, pretending to speak to Gareth, says, why, look at this, he’d say the boy was blushing. 

Then, to show he was joking, he took a shilling out of Jason’s ear, and so it went with all the others Jason, Gareth, and Parker visited. Old and young, men and women, boys and girls - each found a kitten exactly to his liking. In what seemed no time at all every kitten had found a home, Parker turning once again toward Boston. Near the outskirts of the town a band of farmers blocked the road. 

Some had muskets on their shoulders; others carried pitchforks, axes, or wooden poles. Parker leans down from the wagon and calls to one of the farmers, asking, going on a picnic? The man gave a cold laugh and shouts back, fishing for lobsters. It started at Lexington this morning. The Redcoats are out in force now. The fat’s in the fire. Gareth pricked up his ears, and in another moment Jason too, heard the shrilling of fifes and the crisp chatter of drums coming across a field of stubble. 

Burning scarlet in the April sun, a column of British infantry swung around the bend of the road. There were distant shouts of command. The column turned and cut across the field like the reddened blade of a knife. At the sight of the Regulars a shout went up from the farmers. 

They moved forward, slowly, steadily, and Parker clicked his tongue at the horse. The wagon creaked ahead. The British line advanced and to Jason, the recoated soldiers in their high bearskin helmets looked like so many toys escaped from their box. At close range, though, he saw the sun glint blindingly on their muskets and sharp bayonets. 

His heart beat rapidly in his throat and he couldn’t swallow. Instinctively, Jason picked up Gareth and held the black cat in his arms. The fifes shrieked in his ears, and like a thousand mocking whistles, the sound was even more frightening than the sight of the Regulars. The British had halted and now stood motionless, but the fifing never stopped. 

Another command rang out above the noise. Jason saw the Regulars level their rifles. The farmers hesitated, then moved forward, the sword of a British officer flashing downward; the snick of flintlocks rattling along the scarlet line. Jason saw the flash and then heard the musketry crack like a giant whip. 

The Minutemen raced through the drifting smoke toward the Regulars, firing, reloading, crouching behind hillocks and large clumps of grass. Parker shouts, by the Great King of Lobsters! We’re attacking a British line! The lurch of the wagon threw Jason and Gareth forward. There was a 2nd volley of musket fire and Jason heard a man cry out and saw another slump to the ground.

Parker shouts, stay in the wagon! He’s going to unhitch the horse. We’ve got to let the Sons of Liberty know, back there… he jerked his head in the direction of the road they’d traveled. Parker worked furiously at the harness and another volley comes from the Regulars. Parker staggered against the wagon. Jason leaped down, Parker pressing his hands against his chest, his face having gone gray. 

He grins and says, Homarus vulgaris is a prickly customer, he told him this. Listen, boy. Can he ride back this far and this fast? Give the horse his head. He knows the way. Jason begins, but he can’t… Parker says, get out of here, boy. He’ll stay here and see they don’t put grapeshot into his teakettles. He smiled and tried to pull a shilling out of Jason’s ear, but his hand went slack and the coin dropped to the earth. 

The Regulars had brought a field piece into action. Canister shot tore at the fence and the budding branches. The horse reared as Jason and Gareth climbed on its back. Bending forward, Jason flung his arms around the animals neck; Gareth clung to its mane. 

It was nightfall, after nightfall, after midnight… Jason had no idea of the time when the lathered horse finally pounded into the village where the Professor had first stopped. Lantern light shone in his face and the men crowded around him. He could answer none of their questions. 

Whether the attack had been successful, whether the Regulars had broken, whether the battle continued, he didn’t know. He knew only Parker had told him to deliver word the fighting had begun, and this much he’d done. Torches flamed throughout the village, and the farmers were harnessing their horses, hitching up wagons. Jason, his clothes stiff and stained, tried to make his way through the crowd and pleads, let him ride back with somebody. Parker’s there…

His words were lost in the shouts of the men, the stamping and snickering of the horses, then the village green was empty. Jason sat down on a stone and says bitterly, they wouldn’t take him. Gareth, nearly white from the dust of the road, rubbed against Jason’s legs. Jason raised his head and says, he’ll go after them. 

Gareth says, no, this is their battle. They’ll fight it for him - the time, at least. The cat walked a few paces from the green, stopped, and looked back at Jason and says, come, follow him. Darkness, but not quite, to Jason it felt as though he were climbing a gently sloping hill. He could make out Gareth beside him, striding forward, his neck out, head alert, and tail straight behind him - the way he always walked when he had something serious on his mind. 

Half-light, half-shadow and Jason couldn’t be sure whether these were the hills of Erin or Germany. Perhaps they were the forests of Britain; it was hard to say. The trees kept changing and shifting before his eyes and for the first time he was deeply scared. He had been before, but this was different, a trembling, questioning thing, like the wing of a fledgling bird. 

Suddenly, he feared he’d lose sight of Gareth in the shadows, so bent and took the cat in his arms. Jason asks, where are we going? Gareth says, we’re going home. Home! Jason had rarely thought of it, they’d been so busy. 

It was as if all the times Jason hadn’t thought about home all gathered together and turned into wanting to go home. Yes, yes, he thought to himself, like a flame leaping up, but underneath it was a curious kind of sadness. Jason says, he doesn’t want to go home, but do we have to do it right now? Can’t we… Gareth, in a voice which allowed no further questions, says, no. He’s sorry, it must be now. Don’t forget, he took him with him this time because it was a special occasion. 

Jason appreciatively says, it certainly was. Gareth says, more than he might imagine. See, there’s a certain moment which comes - even for a kitten - when he has to start thinking about growing up, this is a very special occasion. It started by learning new things. Jason says, he learned a lot about cats… and different places. Gareth says, this was only part of it. If he thinks back, everybody we met had something to tell him - about themselves, and about himself. It’s a way of finding out a part of what he has to know to be a grown-up. 

Jason began, he means when he took him along he was sort of letting him practice, the way he did in Japan with the kittens? Gareth agrees, he might say this. After a moment, Jason says, he thinks he understands, but he’ll still miss them all. Cerdic Longtooth, Leonardo, even Speckfresser. And Diahan. Gareth reassures him, he’ll find them again. Not exactly the way he remembers them now, but he’ll find them, he can be sure of it. 

Jason glumly says, maybe so, but he’ll never be allowed to make another trip like this after we get home. Gareth says, he’ll make other trips, the journey isn’t over. If he wants to know the truth, it’s really just starting. He’ll make his own voyages even farther. A little more cheerfully, Jason says, well, he guesses he’d like this. It’d be just as much fun, wouldn’t it? And think of all the things we’d have to talk about. Gareth slowly says, yes, this is true, but he won’t be able to speak to him after we get back. 

Jason cries, oh, no! This isn’t fair! No, if this is the way it is, he doesn’t want to go home. Gareth says, wait now, he won’t be able to speak to him. This doesn’t mean we won’t understand each other. Doesn’t he know by this time cats don’t need words? If he watches, and tries to understand, all cats can talk. Jason says, it won’t be the same. Gareth says, yes it will. He can say some of the loveliest things in the world - without words.

Shadows clung to them, and as closely as Jason held him, Gareth still faded from his arms. Jason calls, Gareth! Gareth… Jason raises his head from his pillow, Gareth stretches full length beside him, looks up and yawns. Jason rubs his eyes, his bedroom just as it’d always been. 

Sunlight pours through the window and he wonders how long he’d slept? It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, an hour at the most. It was still afternoon. Jason questioningly asks, Gareth?

The cat starts a deep purr of pleasure, his claws moving in and out and he blinks at Jason. Jason thinks, what a dream it’d been, then frowns. Yet he remembered it so clearly of Egyptians and sorcerers, Roman legionaries. Even now, wide awake, he could see the faces of each one. 

Rubbing Gareth’s ears, he says to him, and he was in it, too. He was the one who arranged the whole thing, and he knew, he still thinks he could really do it - if he wanted to. Jason sat up on the bed, feeling a little disappointed, wishing the dream had been real after all. Below, he heard his mother stirring about the kitchen. He stood up and walked to the door, remembering suddenly he’d been told to stay in his room. 

Grumbling, Jason turns and thrusts his hands in his pockets, fingers touching metal, smooth and worn. Surprised, he pulled it out, it was in the shape of a T with a loop on the crossbar. Jason says, this is funny, he didn’t have this before. He wonders… He sits down beside Gareth and asks, what does he think? 

Gareth puts his head to one side and looks inquiringly at Jason. Jason asks, he wants him to decide for himself, is this it? Well, he thinks… Jason’s mother calls and Jason says, come on, Gareth, they’re waiting for us. He smiles at the cat and slips the bit of metal back into his pocket, then he and Gareth run downstairs to supper. 

Still a fun read, a bit dated, but mostly unnoticeable, almost a black-face situation when Jason pretends to be a demon, and in a different country, another character remarking women’s work being when a woman needs to be told only by another woman if she has wrong ideas, essentially a positive reasoning. A fascinating story even by today’s standards.