‘Wilfred, Oi,’ Beatrix said quietly. ‘Is there something a bit odd about this place?’
Wilfred looked around. ‘I don’t think so. I mean, it is a bit strange that you have to eat with your hands and there are no knives or forks, but apart from that it seems pretty normal. Very busy, though.’
‘I meant the other customers,’ Beatrix said. ‘They don’t seem very friendly. I keep feeling like they’re trying to – I don’t know, inspect us.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Oi said. ‘Just look at Dog. He’s not happy.’ Beatrix and Wilfred looked at Dog. He was sitting under the table. The hairs on his back were standing up and he was making a very low growling noise.
Beatrix pulled her toadstool hat lower over her head, so you could barely see her face at all. She stared through the low light, trying to see what the other customers looked like. The man staring at the piece of paper was tall, so tall his head almost touched the ceiling. He stood very straight, like a soldier, but he was dressed like a farmer in a big red cloak. The man next to him also stood very straight. His hand kept reaching for something at his side.
Beatrix frowned. Who else did that? She recognised the movement. It was the same thing Uncle Ivan did whenever he was nervous or cross. He did it because he wanted to get his knife from his belt.
‘Oi,’ Beatrix whispered. ‘I don’t think those men are what they seem. Do you think you can get close enough to hear what they’re saying without anyone noticing?’
‘Course I can,’ Oi said. Within a moment he’d ducked under the table and disappeared from view. He appeared again close to the tall man and crouched down, as if he’d lost something on the floor.
‘How are your sheep doing in the snow?’ he heard him say.
‘Oh, you know, they’re very sheepy. I keep losing them because they’re all white and very hard to see. How are your cows?’ the other man replied.
‘Bit chilly. But at least the milk is nice and cold.’
‘And how are your, er, your other animals, the ones with the tails?’
‘The horses?’
‘No.’
‘The donkeys?’
‘No, the, what do you call them … parrots?’
‘Parrots? I don’t have any parrots.’
‘You know, the ones that lay the eggs.’
‘Chickens? The chickens are fine.’
‘Good good. I suppose all that fur helps keep them warm.’
‘You mean feathers.’
‘Yeah. That’s it. The fluffy stuff.’
6
Wilfred’s Amazing Magic Trick
Oi crept back to Beatrix’s table.
‘Those guys are definitely not farmers,’ he said. ‘Or if they are, they are the worst ones ever to exist.’
‘How can you be sure?’ Wilfred replied.
‘Because one of them doesn’t know the difference between a parrot and a chicken,’ Oi said.
‘How ridiculous,’ Wilfred said. ‘Everybody knows that chickens lay eggs. Parrots, on the other hand …’ He paused.
‘Parrots also lay eggs,’ Beatrix said.
‘Do they? I don’t believe it. If they did we’d eat parrot eggs. Why don’t we eat parrot eggs?’ Wilfred said.
‘Because the yoke is green,’ Oi replied. ‘My brothers told me. Anyway, there are only two parrots in the whole kingdom.’
‘Enough about parrots!’ Beatrix said in a fierce whisper. ‘The real question is, why are those men disguised as farmers? If you ask me they look a lot like soldiers. They’re standing very straight. Maybe they’re Evil Army spies on their way to the palace. Maybe they –’
Beatrix stopped suddenly. The tall man was standing over their table, his bulky form blocking out all the light, just like a thunder cloud. Close up, with his big red cape and long beard, he looked a bit like Father Christmas. An Evil Father Christmas. The other man stood behind him, so that Beatrix, Oi and Wilfred couldn’t get up and go without pushing past him.
‘Hello, travellers, good morning to you,’ said the Evil Father Christmas in a loud voice that didn’t sound at all like it was used to saying friendly things, like Ho ho ho. In fact, it sounded a lot more like it was used to shouting KILL KILL KILL!
‘Hello,’ said Oi.
‘Hello,’ said Beatrix.
‘Good afternoon,’ said Wilfred.
‘Grrr,’ said Dog.
The Evil Father Christmas pulled up a stool and sat at their table. He made a funny creaking sound as he sat down, as if his joints were made of metal.
He’s either a soldier wearing armour under his farmer clothes, or he’s a robot from the future sent back in time to change history, Beatrix thought. Why would a future robot disguise themselves as a farmer and visit a squashed-meatball inn in the middle of winter? If you could time travel, wouldn’t you choose summer, and maybe a café by a nice warm beach?
Dog got up and sniffed suspiciously at the man’s boots. Then he got hold of his long cloak with his teeth and pulled at it. Oi yanked him away quickly.
‘Tell me, where are you heading to in this terrible weather?’ Evil Father Christmas said.
Wilfred had gone a very strange pale-grey colour, as if he was half turned to stone.
‘We, er, I, er, well, we’re, er um …’ he stuttered.
‘We’re a family of travelling magicians. We like to visit all the villages at this time of year, cheer everyone up a bit with some magic,’ Beatrix said. ‘My father’s very cold, that’s why he can’t speak yet. He’ll warm up soon. He’s a brilliant magician.’
‘Hmmm,’ said the Evil Father Christmas. ‘I suppose you’ll be able to show us a few magic tricks then.’ He folded his arms and looked at Wilfred in a challenging sort of way.
‘Yes yes – of course,’ Wilfred said quickly, blowing into his hands to warm them. ‘What kind of trick would you like? I’ve got all sorts of tricks – the only one I won’t perform is a flying spell. They never work.’
‘Surprise me,’ the Evil Father Christmas said. He sounded as if he would be very hard to surprise.
‘Yeah, and surprise me too,’ the other soldier added.
‘Very well, do either of you have a knife?’
The Evil Father Christmas handed Wilfred a dagger with a skull and cross bones on it. It looked like a very dangerous weapon, not the kind of thing a farmer would have. Wilfred picked it up and examined it in the low light.
‘Now, I need a saucepan from the kitchen,’ he said. A few moments later a waiter placed a saucepan on the table. ‘Excellent. Are you ready? I hope you’re watching closely. I place the saucepan over the knife, tap it three times. Say the magic spell, and …’ Wilfred lifted the saucepan. The knife was gone. Jeff the pigeon was underneath instead. The Evil Father Christmas stared at Jeff, who was looking even more confused than usual.
‘That’s great – but could I have my knife back please?’
‘I’m afraid I’ve turned it into a pigeon,’ Wilfred replied.
‘OK. Thanks. But I’ve already had lunch, so I don’t want a pigeon.’
‘Why don’t I order you a bottle of beer instead?’ Wilfred said.
The man looked puzzled.
‘I don’t think that’s –’
‘A bottle of beer is much safer than a knife,’ Wilfred interrupted, clapping his hands. A waiter appeared with brown beery liquid in a bottle. Wilfred took the bottle and poured the beer into a mug. Then he held up the empty bottle and shook it.
Inside, rattling against the glass, was the man’s dagger. There was no way of getting it out without breaking the glass, and certainly no way of getting it in.
The two men couldn’t believe their eyes. They both examined the bottle; they held it up to the light; they slapped each other on the back; they rattled it against the glass.
‘If you’d like to see any more tricks, I can get another one from my cart outside,’ Wilfred said. ‘Norman and Harry, I’ll need your help.’
Beatrix and Oi stared at Wilfred for a m
oment.
‘Of course!’ Beatrix said, in a deep voice. ‘Come along, Norman.’
‘You’re so bossy, Harry.’
‘That’s because I’m a boy, boys are bossy. You should know that, Norman. Don’t forget Jeff.’
They got up, taking Jeff and Dog with them. The two men were still examining the bottle, shaking the knife so it rattled against the glass.
‘Quick, into the cart,’ Wilfred said as soon as they were outside. He brushed off the fresh snow. ‘We need to get away as fast as we can.’
Beatrix and Oi climbed in while Wilfred attached the reins to Jeff’s bridle. They drove off along the track as fast as the horse could go, slipping and sliding on the frozen ground.
‘They’re looking for you,’ Wilfred said, once they were a good distance away.
‘The Evil Army never gives up,’ Beatrix said. ‘That was written on the dagger, wasn’t it?’
She shivered, and it wasn’t because of the cold. ‘But thanks to your brilliant trick they were completely convinced that we were a family of magicians. How did you do it?’ Beatrix said. ‘That trick was impossible! It looked like real magic!’
Wilfred smiled and held onto the reins.
‘I can’t reveal all my secrets. Let’s just say it involved an awful lot of planning. We’ve got a long way to go. Why don’t you see if you can work it out? If you haven’t figured it out by the time we get to Beluga, I’ll tell you myself.’
7
Martin the Murderous Mulls over a Magic Trick
Oi and Beatrix weren’t the only two people trying to work out how Wilfred had done the trick. Inside the inn, the large farmer who looked a bit like an Evil Father Christmas was still staring at the glass bottle. His name was Martin, Martin the Murderous. Martin loved two things. Being murderous, and magic. Because he worked as chief spy in General Burpintime’s Evil Army, he had never told anyone about his love of magic, but he occasionally practised a few tricks when he was alone.
‘Hey, Colin,’ he said to the other spy. ‘Where did that magician go? I thought he was going to come back with some more tricks.’
‘So did I,’ Colin said.
‘Let’s find him,’ Martin said, heading outside into the cart park.
‘They’ve gone. Must’ve been in a hurry,’ Colin said, when they got there.
‘Hmmmmmmm,’ said Martin. It was a noise he made often – and those who knew him knew it meant he thought something wasn’t quite right. Those who didn’t know him thought he had something wrong with his tummy.
‘Let’s take a closer look at this bottle,’ Martin said, holding it up to the light. ‘There’s only one way he could have got the knife in – that’s by taking off the bottom of the bottle, filling it up with beer, then putting the bottom back on it.’
Colin grunted. Although he was also a spy in the Evil Army, he was more of a hide-in-the-dark-and-whack-someone-on-the-head kind of spy. He didn’t go in much for thinking and planning.
‘Well he couldn’t have done that, we’d have seen. So I suppose it was …’ He couldn’t think how the magician had done the trick. ‘Actual magic?’ he said at last.
‘Of course it wasn’t actual magic,’ Martin replied. ‘What I meant was, he couldn’t have done all that while he was sitting there. It’s not possible. So how did he do it?’
Colin scratched his head, which was beginning to hurt with all the thinking. ‘Er … he travelled back in time, put the knife in the bottle, then went forward in time again?’ Martin the Murderous gave Colin a look that made him feel like a squashed caterpillar.
‘If he couldn’t have done it here, he must have already had the knife in the bottle before he got here. Which means he already had a knife, which I think is a little strange. It’s not as if soldiers from the Evil Army go around handing out their knives, is it?’
Colin shook his head. ‘Definitely not. I’ve got mine right here.’ He felt his belt. ‘I mean here,’ he said, feeling his pocket. ‘Oh, that’s right – it’s hidden in my shoe.’ He pulled it out of his shoe, smiling.
Meanwhile, Martin was bending down and examining the ground.
‘Come on, Colin. The snow’s falling so fast it’ll be hard to follow their tracks.’
‘Maybe we should just stay in the nice warm inn instead,’ Colin said. ‘Have some more beer, see what’s on the dessert menu.’
Martin shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. There’s something not quite right about them. I want to ask the magician where he got that knife. And they left here very quickly, which is a little bit strange. Did you get a good look at them?’
Colin frowned. ‘No, come to mention it. I was too busy watching the magician perform the trick.’
‘So was I,’ Martin said thoughtfully, ‘so was I.’ He took out the picture of Beatrix and looked at it once more. He couldn’t remember exactly what the magician’s assistants looked like.
‘Get your things,’ Martin said. ‘We’re going to follow their tracks, but we’ll stay back for now. I don’t want them getting suspicious.’
8
Riddletown
For the next day and night, Beatrix, Oi and Wilfred battled through snow, high winds and mists that descended suddenly and stopped you seeing more than two metres in front of you. Jeff the horse was covered in icicles. Jeff the pigeon was covered in icicles. Dog the dog was covered in icicles. Oi, Wilfred and Beatrix felt as if their bones had been taken out of their bodies, stuck in a freezer for a couple of hours, then slipped back in. They were cold on the inside, which is one of the worst places to feel cold, because it feels as if you will never be warm again. They wrapped themselves in blankets and furs at night and in the morning they had to scrape ice off the wheels of the cart with frozen fingers, just to get it moving.
Once or twice they thought they could hear voices behind them, but the snow was falling so heavily it made everything muffled and strange.
‘How long till we g-g-g-get there?’ Oi asked.
‘Th-th-th-th-th-thirteen days,’ Beatrix replied through lips that were half frozen.
‘Why have we st-st-st-st-stopped?’ Wilfred said.
‘D-d-d-d-d-d-don’t know,’ Beatrix and Oi said.
Beatrix rubbed her eyes with her frozen hands. They couldn’t go any further – the road was blocked by two tall wooden gates. The gates were in the middle of a high stone wall that seemed to reach up all the way to the grey clouds.
‘How strange,’ Wilfred said, as he pulled the map from his pocket with shaking hands. ‘The wall and gates definitely aren’t on the map,’ he went on. ‘All it shows is the smudgy mark that looks like a snake that’s eaten a Christmas tree. And, of course, General Burpintime’s castle, which is in the mountains somewhere over there.’ He pointed into the distance.
Beatrix climbed down from the cart. There was a sign covered in snow next to the gates. She brushed the snow off. ‘It says WELCOME TO RIDDLETOWN – no entry without a riddle.’
‘Riddletown?’ Oi said. ‘Sounds like a jolly place. Maybe there’ll be somewhere warm we can stay the night and a bakery selling bread and cakes.’
‘I hope so,’ Wilfred said, ‘because there’s another blizzard on the way.’ The snow had started to fall again, covering them so quickly and so thickly that they might as well have been three snowmen.
‘WHO GOES THERE?’ shouted a not very friendly voice from on high. Beatrix stared up through the snow. She could see a guard in a tower, looking down on them.
‘A family of magicians, just passing through,’ she called out.
‘You can only enter if you answer a riddle,’ the gatekeeper replied.
‘I wonder if everyone has to answer a riddle,’ Beatrix said quietly to Oi and Wilfred. ‘What if they needed a doctor or something, and it was an emergency?’
‘Are you ready?’ the gatekeeper shouted.
‘YES!’ all three bellowed back.
‘Right, here we go. This is your riddle. A-hem.’ The gatekeeper cleared his throat. ‘I
am found before Tony, as cold as can be, hard to make and even harder to see.’
Wilfred, Oi and Beatrix stared at one another.
‘Found before Tony?’ Oi said. ‘Who’s Tony? What’s he talking about? Sounds like nonsense.’
Beatrix brushed away the snowflakes from her face. Found before Tony, she said to herself. She didn’t know any Tonys but there was an Antony who worked in the palace kitchen. Looking down, she saw that there was a log beside the gate. The snowflakes that landed on it reminded her of something.
Beatrix smiled. ‘I think I’ve got it,’ she said. ‘What’s Tony short for?’
‘Well, Antony I suppose,’ Wilfred replied.
‘OK, and what comes before the Tony bit?’
‘Ant?’ Oi suggested, looking confused.
‘Exactly. Now think, what ant is hard to make and even harder to see and as cold as can be?’ Beatrix said, watching Oi as his eyes slowly lit up.
‘Snow ants!’ Oi shouted. ‘Snow ants, that’s the answer! They’re hard to make and they’re tiny!’
The large gates creaked open very slowly. They entered Riddletown, and the gates swung shut with a boom behind them.
9
The Riddletown Dragon
Beatrix, Oi and Wilfred stood on the main street in Riddletown. The houses were packed tightly together with tiny windows and big, heavy doors that looked like they were made to keep people out, not let them in. Grey smoke silently slipped out of grey chimneys and a river full of icy grey water flowed through the centre of the town.
‘It’s very grey here, isn’t it?’ Beatrix said. ‘All in all, it looks like a big smudge of a town, as if someone has drawn a picture, got cross with it, and then tried to rub it out. Maybe the smudgy snake mark on the map was actually someone trying to draw this place. If so, it’s not actually a bad drawing.’
Beatrix the Bold and the Riddletown Dragon Page 3