Return of the Wordmonger

by Stephen Lomer

  “You think he’s in league with the Wordmonger?” Hissie asked.

  Dick weighed out everything he knew against everything he believed. “No. I don’t. I think the Wordmonger is using him. Taking advantage. Let’s face it, the king doesn’t even know what day of the week it is half the time. If someone asked him to bring a piece of paper to a specific destination, I’m sure he was happy to feel useful and have something to do. And since his eyes don’t allow him to read, he’s the ideal person to deliver a typo. There’s no danger to him.”

  “Oh!” Anne exclaimed suddenly. “That would mean that the king knows the identity of the Wordmonger!”

  This hadn’t even occurred to Dick until Anne had spoken the words. He saw his own excitement mirrored in the faces around him.

  “Well then,” he said. “Let’s go ask him.”

  They marched in a tightly knit group through the palace into the east wing, to the grand staircase that led to the royal chambers. The two expressionless guards were once again standing with their axes across the two doors.

  “Wait here,” Anne said as they reached the second-to-last landing. She continued up the stairs alone, and the two guards smartly withdrew their axes to let her pass. Once the doors swung shut again, they resumed their previous posture.

  Dick turned to Weatherbee.

  “Look, while we have a minute,” he said awkwardly. “I want to apologize for jumping to the conclusion that it was the king.”

  “Water under the bridge,” Weatherbee said, patting Dick’s shoulder. “Thank you for giving us the time to clear his name.”

  The scraping of the axes once again being withdrawn drew their attention, and Anne returned, followed by her brother, sister, and the queen consort, all tying robes around their night clothes as they descended the stairs.

  “Dick! What’s going on?” demanded Edwin.

  “We believe his Royal Highness the King knows the identity of the Wordmonger,” Ewan spoke up. “May we please speak to him?”

  “The king?” the queen consort asked blankly. “Knows who the Wordmonger is? Are you certain?”

  “No, Your Majesty, but there’s only one way to know for sure,” Dick said. “May we speak with the king?”

  “My husband is on one of his nightly adventures,” said Emma. “I don’t know his precise location.”

  Dick turned to the others. “Everyone split up and search the palace. Ask the staff if they’ve seen the king. I’ll go and tell the captain of the King’s Guard to gather his men and search as well.”

  They descended the stairs quickly, everyone branching off in a different direction. Dick continued down to the ground floor of the palace and made his way to the captain’s office. He knocked stridently on the closed door.

  “Come in,” came the voice from within.

  Dick entered and found the captain sitting behind his desk, tending to some paperwork.

  “Lieutenant Shonnary?” the captain asked. “What is it?”

  Dick spoke quickly, telling the captain everything they’d learned, and how important it was to locate the king. The captain was already around his desk and headed to the door before Dick could even finish.

  “I’ll rouse every man I have,” he called over his shoulder as he hurried down the hallway. “Join the others in the search!”

  Dick hurried back to the main palace to see a flurry of activity. Butlers, underbutlers, footmen, and maids were opening and closing doors, examining rooms and hallways. Soft calls of “Your Majesty?” echoed back to his ears as footsteps grew and faded all around him.

  He turned to his left and bumped right into Ewan, who was walking in the opposite direction.

  “Richard!” he said. “Anything?”

  “No. You?”

  Ewan shook his head. Dick spotted a set of doors he’d never seen before. They were plain white, with windows set at eye level. The hallway beyond seemed plain and unremarkable, quite different from the rest of the palace.

  “Any idea what’s down there?” Dick asked.

  Ewan shook his head.

  “Then let’s have a look,” he said, and Ewan fell in step with him.

  The two men pushed through the doors into the corridor beyond. The air had an antiseptic smell to it. The lush carpet of the palace ended and industrial gray linoleum took over.

  “Laundry?” Dick asked.

  “Probably,” Ewan replied. “Operations, environmental services, that sort of thing.”

  “Certainly nothing tourists would want to pay to see. C’mon.”

  They made their way along the stark hallway, Dick opening doors on the left side and Ewan on the right. Most of the rooms Dick popped his head into were storage, cleaning supplies, and the like. It was a far less glamorous area of the palace than he’d grown accustomed to.

  They rounded a corner and found themselves face-to-face with Wrenchley, who had just exited one of the rooms and closed the door behind him. His face was as jowly and impassive as ever, and as he caught sight of Dick and Ewan, he folded his hands together under the swell of his belly in his most familiar pose.

  “Good evening, Lieutenant Shonnary, Agent Hoozarmi,” Wrenchley said in his slow, even tone. “Is there some way I may be of service to you?”

  “Wrenchley,” Ewan said. “What are you doing down here?”

  “Tending to my duties,” Wrenchley said, and Ewan grinned.

  “Tending to your duties,” Ewan repeated. “How like your father you are.”

  “Wrenchley,” Dick said, happy to see a familiar face in this unfamiliar area. “Have you seen the king?”

  Wrenchley unfolded his hands and reached into his vest where a fine gold chain dangled. He withdrew a pocket watch, flipped it open, and examined the face. He then replaced the watch and refolded his hands at a maddeningly deliberate pace, as if moving in slow motion.

  “At this late hour, I should expect his Royal Highness would be in bed.”

  “He’s out wandering somewhere in the palace,” Dick said. “We need to find him. Do you remember the last place you saw him?”

  “His Majesty was seated at the end of the royal dining table for dinner this evening,” Wrenchley said.

  “What time was that?” Ewan asked.

  “Dinner is always served promptly at six p.m.,” Wrenchley answered.

  Dick sighed. That was of no help.

  “All right; well, if you see him anywhere, can you alert someone?”

  “Of course, gentlemen,” the man said, bowing.

  “Thanks.”

  Dick and Ewan turned to go, and each had only taken a step when they heard tapping coming from the door behind Wrenchley.

  “Wrenchley?” the king’s voice came from the room beyond. The doorknob rattled. “Wrenchley! There’s no one in here, you flabby git!”

  Ewan and Dick exchanged a puzzled look.

  “Wrenchley?” Ewan asked. “Why is King Edmund locked in that room?”

  Wrenchley’s face went pink. “To, er, keep him safe. From the Wordmonger.”

  “But we just told you we were looking for him,” Dick said. “Come on, step aside, we need to talk to him. It’s urgent.”

  “I’m afraid I cannot allow that,” Wrenchley said, stepping back to fully block the door.

  Dick shrugged. “Okay then.” He raised his voice to a shout. “King Edmund! Can you hear me?”

  “Who’s that?” the king’s voice came back.

  “It’s Richard Shonnary and Ewan Hoozarmi from Typo Squad!” Dick shouted back. “Are you all right?”

  “No, I most certainly am not!” the king’s voice called back. “Wrenchley told me two buxom blondes were waiting in here for me, but there’s only linens! After all I’ve done for you, Wrenchley!” The doorknob rattled again.

  “What have you done for Wrenchley, Your Majesty?” Ewan called.

  “Slipped those notes under the door for him!” the king shouted. “Put up those signs for him! Let me out of here, damn it, I want a word with that pl
onker!”

  “So,” Dick said quietly, adrenaline suddenly coursing through his veins. “The Wordmonger. At long last.”

  “His father was here when I was first here,” Ewan said, as vistas of clarity opened behind his eyes. “His father was the original Wordmonger.”

  Wrenchley was already shaking his head.

  “Remember the day in the main library?” Ewan asked Dick. “When the king spotted him in the back of the room, he said, Wrenchley! Got another for me, have you? He was talking about the typos Wrenchley was having him deliver.”

  Wrenchley shook his head even more emphatically, though a bead of perspiration crept out of his carefully groomed hairline.

  “He was probably eavesdropping outside our suite. He knew we were going to question the king and he’d be exposed. So he hid his royal highness down here.”

  “Step away from the door, Wrenchley,” Dick said. “Now.”

  “This is nothing more than a simple misunderstanding,” Wrenchley said calmly. “I am not the Wordmonger. Here. I have proof.”

  He reached into his jacket and withdrew an envelope. He handed it to Dick, who opened it. He and Ewan both examined it.

  “It’s empty,” Dick said, turning the envelope over. On the front was written IN CASE OF EMERGENSY.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dick could hear Ewan’s high-pitched, girlish giggle overtake him even as his own tic triggered and the hallway tilted and swam out of focus.

  Wrenchley took advantage of the moment he created by shoving both Dick and Ewan hard in the chest and taking off in the opposite direction. Dick staggered backward and, with Ewan’s laughter still ringing in his ears, felt the back of his head collide with the wall. He sank into darkness.

  Dick’s eyes fluttered open and he saw a long fluorescent light buzzing above him. His head and neck ached like a rotten tooth, so he moved his eyes. Weatherbee, Hissie, and Siya were standing to his left, talking softly. Big was at the foot of the bed, intensely focused on building small structures out of tongue depressors. To his right, Ewan and Anne stood extremely close, both of them smiling and whispering to one another.

  “Whahappen?” Dick grunted as he raised his head slightly. He felt a twinge and thought better of it, lowering back down onto the pillow.

  “Oh good, you’re awake,” came a familiar voice, and the light above him was suddenly blocked by Dr. Agrace. She shined a light in either eye, then felt around the base of Dick’s skull and the muscles on the side of his neck. “How do you feel?” she asked.

  “Mmph,” Dick replied. The woman only smiled.

  “‘Mmph’ is a good sign,” she said merrily. “Do you know where you are?”

  “England,” Dick sighed.

  “Well, that’s a start, I suppose. Could you be in any way more specific?”

  “I was at Buckingham Palace,” Dick said. “Now it looks like I’m in a hospital.”

  “Right on both counts,” the woman said. “You’re in the hospital at Buckingham Palace.”

  Dick stared at her for a moment. “Oh right. This place has its own hospital.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” the doctor asked.

  Dick thought back. The memories were hazy for a few moments, and then the image of Wrenchley coalesced in his brain.

  “The Wordmonger,” Dick said, and his eyes flicked to Ewan. “Wrenchley is the Wordmonger.”

  “Well, this iteration of the Wordmonger, yes,” Ewan replied.

  “He knocked me down and took off.”

  “Yes, and that left me in a terrible quandary,” Ewan said. “Do I tend to Dick or chase after Wrenchley?”

  “And?”

  “And he ran that rotten wanker down,” Anne replied.

  Dick laughed, as did everyone else in the room.

  “I saw the whole thing from the second-floor landing,” Siya said. “Wrenchley came running into the main lobby, all red-faced and puffing cheeks, with Ewan right on his heels, giggling his head off. Wrenchley slipped a bit on the marble floor, and Ewan was able to gain ground on him. Wrenchley was almost at the front doors when Ewan leapt at him with the greatest football tackle I’ve seen outside of Arsenal. Then the King’s Guard was on him in a mass of red tunics.”

  “I haven’t heard of anyone that old running that fast since they added the Early Bird Special at Golden Corral,” Big offered.

  “Oh yeah?” asked Dick. “And where were you while Ewan was doing the hundred-yard dash to catch our bad guy?”

  “I was putting my sharp detective skills to use in uncovering further clues that would lead to the Wordmonger’s apprehension.”

  Ewan mouthed the words Having a snack.

  “Right,” Dick said. “Where’s Wrenchley now?”

  “Last I saw, they had him handcuffed to a chair in the throne room,” Hissie said. “They’re waiting to interrogate him.”

  “Waiting for what?”

  “For us,” Weatherbee injected. “They said we deserved to hear his story since we were instrumental in exposing him. Of course, we were waiting for you.” He turned to Dr. Agrace. “Is he all right?”

  “As far as I can tell, yes,” the doctor replied. “Lieutenant Shonnary? How do you feel?”

  “Like a million bucks,” Dick grunted, raising himself slowly off the bed. “Okay, like a hundred bucks. But well enough to go hear what our old pal Wrenchley has to say.”

  Dick, Big, Siya, Hissie, Ewan, Weatherbee, and Anne entered a packed throne room. The royals were in their usual places, and the rest of the walls were jammed with clerks, administrators, footmen, members of the King’s Guard, the captain, the prime minister, the master of the household, stable boys, cooks, attendants, and several priests. As Dick and his crew entered, he wondered if the throne room had ever seen such an eclectic bunch of people in its history.

  Seated just in front of the thrones was Wrenchley who, aside from being a bit ruffled from his encounter with Ewan, looked exactly as crisp and polished as always. He seemed perfectly calm and collected; if not for the handcuffs holding his wrists to the arm rests, he might be receiving a commendation from the king and queen consort.

  “Ah,” Emma said, seeing them enter. She wore a smart white jacket-and-skirt combination, and the diamonds in her tiara glinted in the light spilling in through the windows. “Our typo heroes. Please do join us.”

  She gestured to the area just to the right of the thrones, where they’d have a perfect view of Wrenchley. Anne continued on and took her place on her throne as Dick, Ewan, and Weatherbee bowed, and Siya and Hissie curtsied.

  The queen consort nodded toward them, then turned her attention to Wrenchley. The king, seated to her left, snorted as though waking up from a nap, then squinted around the room.

  “What’s this then?” he asked. “Knighting ceremony?”

  “No, my dear,” Emma said quietly. “We’ve captured the Wordmonger.”

  “Have we?” the king asked. “Jolly good. Hadn’t Wrenchley better give up that seat so we can have a look at him then?”

  “I’ll explain it all in a moment, my dear,” she said, and the king seemed mollified. When Emma turned back to Wrenchley, her face was set, but Dick sensed fury behind the facade.

  The captain of the King’s Guard stepped out smartly from the gallery and strode with purpose across the empty space, taking up position directly behind and to Wrenchley’s right. He stood ramrod-straight, facing the royal family.

  “I have some questions for you, Wrenchley,” Emma said in a clear, commanding voice that carried throughout the throne room, “and you will answer all of them. Am I understood?”

  Wrenchley sat up straighter in his chair, his half-lidded eyes staring straight ahead, and said nothing. The captain leaned over and spoke quietly in Wrenchley’s ear. Dick was close enough to hear: “You will answer her, or you will answer to me.”

  Wrenchley considered this for a moment, cleared his throat, and replied, “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You are the W
ordmonger?”

  Wrenchley slowly nodded. The captain cuffed his ear, hard.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Wrenchley said in a clear voice.

  “You are far too young to have been the original Wordmonger, who terrorized this palace so many years ago. Was that Wordmonger your father?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “That Wordmonger made an attempt on my daughter Anne’s life. Tell me why.”

  Wrenchley hesitated. “He was jealous of her, ma’am.”

  Emma paused. She glanced at Anne and then back to Wrenchley. “Jealous? Why?”

  “I suppose one would call it a case of sibling rivalry, ma’am.”

  A spate of excited whispering broke out among those gathered. Emma looked baffled.

  “Explain what you mean by sibling rivalry,” she demanded.

  “Well, you see, ma’am, my father was the king’s illegitimate son.”

  The whispering started again, louder this time, and Emma looked around the throne room with a withering stare. Silence fell at once.

  Emma swallowed hard. “Go on.”

  “As it was told to me, the king visited Wales on a goodwill tour shortly after ascending the throne,” Wrenchley said. With his tone and demeanor, he might have been discussing the weather. “That’s where he met my grandmother. They had a dalliance, and my grandmother later found she was with child.”

  The room was in rapt silence.

  “When the king discovered what had happened, he paid my grandmother a hefty sum to keep her silence on the matter,” Wrenchley continued. “But my father discovered the truth. He became obsessed with the royal children, and bemoaned the fact that they had grown up in the palace, spoiled and tended to, while he lived a thoroughly middle-class existence. He came to fixate on Anne. I don’t know the reason. But as soon as he was old enough, he came to work here under the false name Wrenchley and plotted Anne’s demise.”

  Emma’s jaw was clenched tight. She turned slowly to the king, who was humming softly to himself.

  “Edmund,” she demanded.

  “Yes, my dear?”

  “Is what Wrenchley said true?”