amusement.
‘Hey you ain’t got no right to go a-callin’ me that, bats or no,’ the fieldmouse interjected. ‘You ain’t got no manners for lordly folk, that’s certain.’
Orfeo and Eldritch laughed all the louder. ‘Ah, but you are precious to us.’
Twit eyed them uncertainly. The bats puffed up their furry little bodies and strutted along the rafter, waving their wings pompously.
‘Yes, you are the seed that will bear all our fruit.’
‘We need you, witch husband.’
Twit put his paws on his hips and shook his head crossly. ‘As I said already, I got no wife and I’ve no mind to take a witch to meself. What fer I do a daft thing like that?’
Eldritch clapped his wings together for silence. They made a leathery dry, rasping sound. ‘Quite – you are not as addled as others make you Master Scuttle. Come brother, make no jests at our guest’s expense. I fear we now displease.’
He looked sternly at Orfeo but there was still that odd twinkle in his eyes.
Twit cleared his throat.
‘Well that’s all right,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to go a-sayin’ you’re sorry. I’ve had folk laugh at me ‘afore an’ I reckon they’ll not stop now.’
The bats winked at each other, drew themselves up to their full height and dived off the rafter. For a moment they flew over Twit’s head and the fieldmouse watched them dart to and fro. Then they flitted down to him, seeming very grave and serious. They pressed round him closely and put their open wings about him.
‘Hear not the scorn of others,’ said Orfeo.
‘Not many are as brave and true,’ continued Eldritch.
‘When horror stalks your field you shall win through.’
‘Despair not in the long lonely years.’
They hugged Twit tightly as if trying to console him for some hurt that was yet to come.
The fieldmouse struggled, embarrassed by their embraces. He wriggled his arms and flicked his tail about.
‘Now what are you a-blatherin’ about?’ he asked, his small voice muffled by bat wing. ‘I can scarce breathe with you so tight round me.’
He disentangled himself from the two brothers and gasped for breath.
‘You’ll do me in at this rate,’ he said crossly.
‘Forgive us master,’ they said and bowed formally, draping their languid wings on the ground in dainty apology.
‘He needs air,’ declared Orfeo.
‘Fresh air,’ cooed Eldritch and that strange smirk lit his furred fox-like face.
‘Now come, Master Scuttle, I believe you enjoy visiting folk. Is this so?’
Twit nodded. ‘Truly that’s how I come to be in the city to pay a visit to my mother’s kin.’
Orfeo smiled broadly showing a fine row of neat white teeth, ‘Verily and how much of this grand city have you yet seen?’
Twit admitted that he hadn’t seen anything.
Eldritch appeared shocked and dismayed, then his forehead crinkled as he glanced quickly to his brother. ‘You must attend to this Master Scuttle, while there is yet time,’ he said. ‘Let us rectify the situation and pay for our bad manners.’
‘We shall give you air,’ cried Orfeo gleefully.
Twit scratched his head. He wasn’t sure what the bats were up to.
‘Come, come, they both said.
‘Where to?’ he asked nervously.
Orfeo clambered on to Eldritch’s shoulders and pointed to the sky. ‘Into the night,’ he called down. ‘Let us show you the world as it should be seen – from the air.’
Twit blew a raspberry. ‘What me? I can’t fly like you.’ He wondered if they were making fun of him again.
But the bats persisted.
Eldritch raised one eyebrow and said casually, ‘Is it not in your blood to fly?’
‘Beg pardon?’
‘Did your father not fly once?’
‘Why he did, as a matter of fact – with an owl.’ Twit suddenly realised their meaning and a slow grin spread across his face. ‘It were one night when my old dad was—’
‘No time for that,’ sniffed Orfeo. ‘No dull family histories here, if you please.’
Eldritch made himself ready.
‘Hey you ain’t got no right to go a-callin’ me that, bats or no,’ the fieldmouse interjected. ‘You ain’t got no manners for lordly folk, that’s certain.’
Orfeo and Eldritch laughed all the louder. ‘Ah, but you are precious to us.’
Twit eyed them uncertainly. The bats puffed up their furry little bodies and strutted along the rafter, waving their wings pompously.
‘Yes, you are the seed that will bear all our fruit.’
‘We need you, witch husband.’
Twit put his paws on his hips and shook his head crossly. ‘As I said already, I got no wife and I’ve no mind to take a witch to meself. What fer I do a daft thing like that?’
Eldritch clapped his wings together for silence. They made a leathery dry, rasping sound. ‘Quite – you are not as addled as others make you Master Scuttle. Come brother, make no jests at our guest’s expense. I fear we now displease.’
He looked sternly at Orfeo but there was still that odd twinkle in his eyes.
Twit cleared his throat.
‘Well that’s all right,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to go a-sayin’ you’re sorry. I’ve had folk laugh at me ‘afore an’ I reckon they’ll not stop now.’
The bats winked at each other, drew themselves up to their full height and dived off the rafter. For a moment they flew over Twit’s head and the fieldmouse watched them dart to and fro. Then they flitted down to him, seeming very grave and serious. They pressed round him closely and put their open wings about him.
‘Hear not the scorn of others,’ said Orfeo.
‘Not many are as brave and true,’ continued Eldritch.
‘When horror stalks your field you shall win through.’
‘Despair not in the long lonely years.’
They hugged Twit tightly as if trying to console him for some hurt that was yet to come.
The fieldmouse struggled, embarrassed by their embraces. He wriggled his arms and flicked his tail about.
‘Now what are you a-blatherin’ about?’ he asked, his small voice muffled by bat wing. ‘I can scarce breathe with you so tight round me.’
He disentangled himself from the two brothers and gasped for breath.
‘You’ll do me in at this rate,’ he said crossly.
‘Forgive us master,’ they said and bowed formally, draping their languid wings on the ground in dainty apology.
‘He needs air,’ declared Orfeo.
‘Fresh air,’ cooed Eldritch and that strange smirk lit his furred fox-like face.
‘Now come, Master Scuttle, I believe you enjoy visiting folk. Is this so?’
Twit nodded. ‘Truly that’s how I come to be in the city to pay a visit to my mother’s kin.’
Orfeo smiled broadly showing a fine row of neat white teeth, ‘Verily and how much of this grand city have you yet seen?’
Twit admitted that he hadn’t seen anything.
Eldritch appeared shocked and dismayed, then his forehead crinkled as he glanced quickly to his brother. ‘You must attend to this Master Scuttle, while there is yet time,’ he said. ‘Let us rectify the situation and pay for our bad manners.’
‘We shall give you air,’ cried Orfeo gleefully.
Twit scratched his head. He wasn’t sure what the bats were up to.
‘Come, come, they both said.
‘Where to?’ he asked nervously.
Orfeo clambered on to Eldritch’s shoulders and pointed to the sky. ‘Into the night,’ he called down. ‘Let us show you the world as it should be seen – from the air.’
Twit blew a raspberry. ‘What me? I can’t fly like you.’ He wondered if they were making fun of him again.
But the bats persisted.
Eldritch raised one eyebrow and said casually, ‘Is it not in your blood to fly?’
‘Beg pardon?’
‘Did your father not fly once?’
‘Why he did, as a matter of fact – with an owl.’ Twit suddenly realised their meaning and a slow grin spread across his face. ‘It were one night when my old dad was—’
‘No time for that,’ sniffed Orfeo. ‘No dull family histories here, if you please.’
Eldritch made himself ready.
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