Heads, You Lose!

by R. L. Stine

  “But the head is probably far away by now,” I argued. “The real assassins probably came on horses, took the Prince’s head, and galloped away as fast as they could.”

  “No way,” Ryan said. He began to pace back and forth, thinking hard. “They didn’t come to the castle on horses. If they did, they would have been seen. They would have been stopped by the guards.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “So they probably came on foot, maybe late at night. And they sneaked into the castle.”

  “The assassins might still be around here,” Ryan said. “Maybe they are having trouble escaping, like us.”

  I nodded. “That means Prince Warwick’s head could still be around. Maybe they dumped it. You know. Hid it somewhere so they wouldn’t be caught with it.”

  Ryan stopped pacing. “Jessica, if we find the Prince’s head, we’ll be heroes!”

  We stepped out of the robe room. I gazed at the big wooden guard. I let out a sigh. “This castle is so big, Ryan,” I said. “We could search for a year.”

  He tucked his hands into the deep robe pockets. “You’re right,” he murmured. He scrunched up his face. “Let’s think. If I wanted to hide a head, where would I stash it?”

  “It’s hopeless,” I said. “Hopeless. If we go running around the castle, searching for the head, we’ll be caught in five minutes.”

  “Wait! I just thought of something,” Ryan said. “The assassins wouldn’t want the head to be found — right?”

  “Right,” I said.

  “So they wouldn’t hide it inside the castle with people walking all around. They probably hid the head outside the castle.”

  “You’re definitely right,” I agreed. “We have to get out and search —”

  I stopped because I heard voices. Very nearby. Men talking. Coming our way.

  I whipped my head around. “Ryan — quick! How do we get out of here?”

  The voices grew louder. I realized it was Henway and the Duke of Earle.

  Ryan darted behind the wooden guard and tried to make himself small.

  “That’s not going to work,” I whispered. “I can see your robe.”

  I had an idea. I ran back to the supply closet and grabbed the ladder.

  I dragged it under the nearest window. With a groan, I propped it up against the wall.

  “Good work!” Ryan cried.

  I scrambled up first. My shoes slipped on the wooden rungs. I pulled myself halfway up to the window. Then I stopped. I had a horrifying thought. What if we were high off the ground?

  “Jessica — hurry! They’ll see us!” Ryan pleaded. He was right behind me.

  I had no choice. I climbed to the top — and dove out the window.

  THUD. I landed on my side and rolled in the dirt.

  A short fall, only a few feet.

  “Whew!” I let out a relieved sigh.

  I turned and watched Ryan land hard on his hands and knees. He quickly scrambled away from the castle wall.

  Behind us, I could hear the men’s voices inside the castle.

  Ryan pulled me to my feet, and we began to run.

  Our shoes kicked up the yellow dirt. We lowered our heads and tore away from the castle.

  And ran straight into a squad of marching guards.

  We stopped so fast, we nearly knocked each other over.

  My hood slipped off my head. I grabbed it and pulled it back into place.

  The guards held swords in front of them. They marched in a double line. Their red hats caught the light of the late afternoon sun. Their eyes were fixed straight ahead.

  “Walk normal,” I whispered to Ryan.

  He swallowed. “Huh? Normal?”

  We pulled our hoods as low as we could. And we walked slowly, side by side. We walked toward the guards as if we had nothing to hide.

  My legs felt as soft as noodles. I don’t know how I forced them to move. My heart was beating so hard, I felt dizzy.

  Ryan and I kept walking.

  Closer … closer … until they were only a few feet from us!

  Did they see us?

  The guards didn’t even look at us. They kept their eyes locked straight ahead and marched together in silence. I turned and watched them move toward the front of the castle.

  Ryan and I leaned against a tree trunk and took a few minutes to catch our breath. I was sweating inside the robe. I scratched the back of my neck and gazed around. We stood at one side of the castle. Behind us, a round stone tower rose up above the trees. In front of us, I saw a row of low shacks with thatched roofs and boarded-up windows.

  “If I assassinated the Prince, I’d hide his head in one of those shacks,” I said. I squinted hard at Ryan. “Still want to be a hero?”

  He returned my stare. “Yes. If it will get us out of here.”

  “Let’s start searching the shacks,” I said, “and see if we come up with anything.”

  Leaning against the tree, I gazed all around. No more guards in sight. I motioned Ryan forward, and we made our way across the dirt to the first shack. The door was missing. We peered inside. Empty. A flat dirt floor with nothing on it.

  In the next shack, we saw two children crawling around in a pile of rags. Where were their parents?

  “We’ve got to keep searching,” I said.

  We made our way to the next low building. I sniffed the air. The shack smelled of animals. I pressed my face against the door and listened. Silence inside.

  It was built of boards and wood scraps slapped carelessly together. There were holes up and down the front wall. The door was a single plank of wood.

  “I think it’s empty,” I whispered to Ryan. I grabbed the side of the door and pushed it open.

  Dark inside. I waited for my eyes to adjust. “Anyone in here?” My voice came out in a trembling whisper.

  I froze in place and listened. I heard a scratching sound. A pattering. Like little feet running across the floor.

  Ryan grabbed my shoulder. “Look, Jessica — the floor is covered in straw.”

  I squinted into the dim grayness. Yes. I saw mounds of straw — several piles — across the floor.

  “Weird,” I muttered. “Who would make piles of straw inside their house?”

  “A good place to hide a head,” Ryan whispered. He grabbed my shoulder again. “Shhh! Jessica — listen.”

  We both stood still and listened to the chittering sound down on the floor. The pattering feet, like raindrops drumming on a window. A soft squeak.

  Ryan pointed. “There’s something moving in the straw,” he said. He dropped to his knees to get a better look.

  I dropped down beside him. In the dusty light that filtered through the cracks I saw dark creatures scamper under the straw piles … over them … across the floor. Creatures darting in all directions.

  It didn’t take me long to realize they were rats!

  Dozens of rats, skittering over the straw, dragging their tails over the floor, squeaking and chittering.

  “Ohhh, I hate rats!” I cried. I jumped to my feet.

  Straw clung to the front of my robe. I didn’t bother to brush it away. I backed up to the shack wall, trying to move away from the darting, running rats.

  “Let’s get out of here!” Ryan shouted.

  We both lurched toward the door. But before we could get there, it swung open.

  I gasped as a ragged-looking man appeared in the doorway. He had a curly brown beard. He wore a long robe that hung down to his bare ankles.

  He stepped inside and slammed the door shut behind him.

  Ryan and I pressed ourselves against the shack wall. I watched in shock as rats began to scamper to the man.

  He bent down, and they climbed up his legs. Squealing and squeaking excitedly, they swarmed over him. They covered his arms and legs and clung to the front of his ragged robe.

  “So, you’re glad to see Simon!” the man cried in a deep voice. He laughed a booming laugh.

  The rats perched on his shoulders and held on to his
arms. Rats swarmed over his whole body.

  He laughed again. “Well, Simon is glad to see you, too!” he cried.

  And then his eyes stopped on Ryan and me. He jumped to his feet, sending several rats toppling to the floor.

  “Well, well,” he said. “And who might you be?”

  My brain did flip-flops. What should I tell this man? How could I explain what Ryan and I were doing in his house?

  “We … uh … we are visitors from a faraway land,” I stammered.

  He brushed rats off his sleeves and took a lumbering step toward us. “And what might you be doing in the Prince’s rat house?” he demanded.

  Rat house?

  “Well … we got lost,” Ryan spoke up. “We were looking for someone to show us the way.”

  The man studied us for a long moment. He tugged a rat that had become tangled in his heavy beard and set it down gently on a straw pile.

  “You came to the wrong house,” he said, frowning at us. “I am Simon, the Prince’s Rat Tender.”

  Rats circled his bare feet. He brushed several more off the front of his robe.

  “Why does the Prince have a Rat Tender?” I asked.

  “The Prince likes his rats,” Simon replied. “Because he feeds them to his cats.”

  We both stared at him. “Cats?”

  Simon nodded. “The Prince has five hundred cats. They get very hungry. That’s why he needs me to tend the rats.”

  He snickered. “The poor things think I am their friend because I feed them every day. They don’t realize I am only fattening them up.”

  He stepped up to Ryan and me. “Here. Have some rats,” he said.

  He scooped up a bunch of them. Then he dropped them onto my shoulders. They clung to the front of my robe.

  “Get them off of me!” I screamed.

  I turned and saw Simon drop two or three rats into Ryan’s hands. Ryan fumbled with them. He juggled them as if he were doing a circus act.

  “Yes, the Prince likes his rats!” Simon boomed. He tossed back his head and laughed.

  More rats climbed up the front of my robe. A couple of them slipped inside my hood. I felt their warm bodies rub against my face.

  “Help! Please! They’re clawing my scalp!” I shrieked. “Help me! Get them out of my hair!”

  Simon didn’t move. The rats all began to screech.

  A rat tail brushed over my forehead. I tugged at the rat, but it clung to the inside of my hood.

  Ryan spun around to me and pulled the hood down to my shoulders. Then he grabbed the rat and tossed it to the floor.

  I wrapped my fingers around another rat and tugged it off my head.

  The screeching was deafening. Rats raced back and forth over our feet.

  Simon just stood watching the whole thing with a broad smile under his curly beard.

  The rats were no longer in my hair, but I could still feel them. My scalp tingled and my skin itched like crazy.

  I pushed Ryan toward the door. “Let’s go.”

  We bolted past Simon. Ryan lowered his shoulder and bulled into the door. It burst open, and we tore out of there.

  “Do not let the rats escape!” Simon boomed behind us. “The Prince likes his rats!” He slammed the door hard.

  Ryan and I didn’t look back. We lowered our heads and ran along the backs of the shacks. I could still hear the rats screeching behind us.

  We ducked around tall bales of hay. A group of ragged kids was playing some kind of kick-ball game with a small round rock. They stopped as we charged past them.

  “Slow down,” Ryan said, holding me back. “No one is chasing us. If we keep running, we’ll look suspicious.”

  I stopped and leaned over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. “Where are we?” I asked.

  We both glanced around. I was surprised to see we were back at the blacksmith’s stable. Flames danced into the air from his fire. But he wasn’t at the fire.

  Ryan and I peered around the side of the stable and saw him through the entrance. He was shoeing a horse. The hot tongs glowed red as he pressed the burning horseshoe onto the horse’s hoof.

  Another horse looked on from the back of the stable. At the side, I saw a tall pile of straw.

  The horseshoe sizzled as the powerful man attached it to the horse’s hoof.

  Ryan and I ducked out of the doorway. I knew we both had the same thought. The stable was the last building on the castle grounds. If we could get past it, maybe we could run to the wall. Maybe we could get back over to the other side. And then we could try the coin again.

  Ryan scratched the sleeve of his robe. “Still itchy,” he whispered.

  I motioned toward the wall. I pulled the hood low on my head and started to walk past the stable.

  But a voice boomed: “You there! Halt!”

  The blacksmith. He raised the burning tongs as he turned to us.

  Ryan made a gulping sound. We both froze in the stable doorway.

  Maybe the robes would fool him.

  He let go of the horse’s hoof and stood up. He kept the long tongs raised at his side. He mopped his forehead with the back of his massive arm. Then he squinted at us.

  “I thought I saw the guards take you prisoner,” he growled.

  He took a step toward us.

  “Uh … no,” I stammered. “It was a mistake. We are guests of Prince Warwick.”

  He stared at Ryan, then at me. I could see him thinking about that.

  Then he motioned with the tongs. “Come into the stable,” he said.

  I knew we couldn’t outrun him. Ryan and I obeyed. I led the way inside. The horse raised its head and let out a soft whinny.

  The blacksmith waved us closer. “Back to the wall,” he said.

  Ryan and I stumbled into the tall pile of straw.

  “Keep going,” the blacksmith ordered. “Back to the wall. Then sit down in the straw.”

  “Why?” I asked in a trembling voice. “What are you going to do?”

  “I am going to summon the guards,” he replied. “I will quickly find out if you are telling the truth.”

  Ryan and I backed through the straw. Ryan frantically scratched at his hood. Something was definitely bothering him.

  “Sit down!” the blacksmith shouted. “Now!”

  We both sat down hard. We sank into the straw.

  The blacksmith waved the heavy tongs at us. “Do not move,” he ordered.

  “But — but —” I sputtered. “If you would just let us be on our way …”

  And then Ryan whispered, “I’m sitting on something.”

  He reached deep into the straw.

  Then he uttered a cry as he pulled up a human head!

  A man’s head. Cut off neatly at the neck. Eyes shut. Scraggly black hair flowing down the back.

  The Prince’s missing head!

  My breath caught in my throat. I started to choke.

  Ryan’s face turned kind of green. He had a sick expression on his face. He held the head up by the hair.

  “Put that down!” the blacksmith boomed.

  “We … we need this!” I blurted out. I jumped to my feet.

  “That stays where it is,” he said. “That does not leave the stable.”

  I grabbed the head from Ryan. My hand brushed the cheek. Cold as ice, the skin as tight as leather.

  I felt a wave of nausea. I swallowed hard again and again. I mean, I was holding a human head!

  Ryan jumped up beside me.

  “Heed my words,” the blacksmith snarled. “You are not leaving the stable with that.”

  “The Prince needs this,” I said. “The Prince sent us out to find this.”

  “No, he did not,” the blacksmith shot back. “Drop it. Drop it back into the straw. Drop it now — if you want to leave this stable alive!”

  I gripped the head with both hands. Ryan and I took a few steps toward the open door.

  “We’re taking this to the Prince,” I said. I tried to sound calm. But m
y voice came out tiny and weak.

  We took another step toward the doorway.

  The blacksmith let out an angry roar and came at us. He dove forward swinging the big tongs in front of him like a baseball bat.

  Ryan and I were trapped. No way to dodge around him.

  I let out a scream and ducked as the tongs swung above my head.

  I spun around. And saw something crawl out of the sleeve of Ryan’s robe.

  A rat. No. Two rats.

  “I knew something was itching me!” Ryan exclaimed.

  The blacksmith stopped in his tracks when he saw the two fat gray creatures. They crawled out from Ryan’s sleeve and dropped to the straw on the stable floor. Then they turned and went scampering toward the two horses.

  Ryan and I stood frozen and watched as the horses went crazy. They both began whinnying frantically, raising up on their hind legs.

  The rats darted past them. The horse nearest the door let out a shrill cry — and went galloping from the stable.

  “Whoa! Whoooaah!” the blacksmith roared. He heaved the tongs across the stable. Then he spun away from us and chased after the runaway horse.

  This was our chance. Ryan and I took off, running full speed out of the stable. We ran past the flaming forge. Turned and headed toward a row of trees that led to the castle.

  I gripped the head by its hair. It swung in front of me as we ran.

  We hid behind a fat white tree trunk. We were both panting like dogs.

  I stuck my head out from behind the trunk and saw a squad of guards marching past the stable.

  “Wh-what are we going to do?” Ryan stammered. He gazed down at the head. “We have the Prince’s head, Jessica. But how will we ever find the Prince?”

  I thought for a moment. Then I said, “Easy. I know how.”

  I hid the head under my robe. Then I stepped into the open and shouted: “Guards! Hey, guards! Here we are! Come capture us!”

  “Jessica, you’re a genius!” Ryan exclaimed as the guards led us into the castle. The torches along the wall flamed high as if greeting us.

  The guards guided us through chamber after chamber. I suddenly had a frightening thought.

  “If they take us straight to the dungeon,” I whispered, “we’ll never get the Prince’s head back to him.” I swallowed. “Maybe I’m not a genius.”