The Queen and the Nobody Boy

by Barbara Else

  “Go and sign the royal correspondence!” Jasper shouted.

  “It’s your turn!” Sibilla bashed the window and ran off.

  Hodie tested the tap. Perfect. He decided the next job should be to clean up down by the barracks. He trudged through the herb garden with his tools.

  The pair of squirrels flitted onto the barracks roof. Queen Sibilla appeared from somewhere and called up to them, and one skittered down to say hello. She crouched in the dusty path and rubbed its chin. Its tail looked full of burrs and dirt as usual. They were the ugliest little animals, but good-natured and very loving to each other. Hodie would be sad to leave them when he set off south.

  Footsteps sounded behind Hodie. He dodged out of the way of the Um’Binnian Emperor Prowdd’on and Commander Gree’sle. Today the Emperor’s ginger moustache was waxed into spears that stuck straight out towards his ear lobes. Prowdd’on stopped behind Queen Sibilla – she was tickling the squirrel’s belly now and didn’t notice – and held a hand out to Commander Gree’sle, who fetched a gold flask from a pocket and gave it to him. Prowdd’on smiled at his reflection in the side of the flask, unscrewed the cap and had a sip.

  Princessa Lu’nedda hurried down from the Palace too. The diamonds on her slippers twinkled through the dust. Her shiny black ringlets dangled just like the Queen had said. “Little squirrel!” she cried. “May I pet it?”

  Queen Sibilla stood up with the squirrel in her arms. “Let it get used to you first,” she began, “then take it gently…”

  Emperor Prowdd’on pushed his daughter aside. “I am best with bird and animal!” He grabbed the squirrel and stroked it hard.

  “Be careful, please,” said Queen Sibilla.

  “Emperor, it is very ugly rodent,” said the Commander.

  The Emperor was squeezing the squirrel far too hard. Its black eyes were full of fear. The Queen’s hair had started to crinkle. She reached for the squirrel, but Emperor Prowdd’on held it higher. Hodie couldn’t do a thing. He was just the odd-job boy.

  Sibilla held both hands like a cradle to show Prowdd’on how. “Gently. Please,” she said again.

  The Emperor laughed. “Not many little girls play game with Emperor Prowdd’on of Um’Binnia!” He whirled himself around, then stopped. “Ugh!” He let the squirrel fall into the dust, and brushed his hands.

  For a moment, Hodie thought the squirrel must have pooped on the Emperor’s waistcoat. But the ugly creature didn’t move – it didn’t breathe. Sibilla didn’t move either.

  Hodie heard a harsh little gasp above his head. On a branch the second squirrel stood staring down, quivering.

  “Father! You squeeze much too hard,” Lu’nedda said.

  Prowdd’on waved his daughter away. “How foolish, Lu’nedda. The rodent was sick. Little Queen was very wrong to encourage me to play with faulty rodent.”

  Hodie’s head jerked up. “It was you!” He couldn’t stop himself. “There were only two squirrels and you killed one!”

  Commander Gree’sle’s hand gripped for the hilt of his sword – but visitors weren’t allowed to wear weapons in the Grand Palace, so his hand actually groped at his empty scabbard.

  Emperor Prowdd’on folded his hands on his purple waistcoat. “This is very bad behaviour to important guest. In Um’Binnia, anyone who shows moment of disrespect to Emperor is sent to tend Ocean Toads. It is long and painful death with no escape.”

  He stalked away around the gardens. Commander Gree’sle narrowed his smile at Hodie, then hurried behind. The Princessa took a step towards Hodie as if she wanted to ask something, then shook her head and ran after her father.

  The little Queen picked up the bundle of tatty grey fur and held it for a moment, her head lowered. Hodie saw her pointy chin quivering. Her hair was tangled as tightly as a bird’s nest. One of her tantrums might be coming on.

  “Boy,” she said to Hodie in a husky voice. “Please bury her.”

  Hodie bowed and took the squirrel gently. Queen Sibilla turned away. As he carried the squirrel to place it under the walnut tree, he saw her march up the steps into the barracks. It would be the nearest place to hide sobs and screams of rage.

  ~

  While Hodie dug a little hole the second squirrel, with puzzled cries, crept down to watch. Hodie finished the burial and stroked the grieving animal. Then he went to sweep near the exercise yard and get rid of any horse droppings.

  Corporal Murgott was scaring the new recruits into marching in step. This was difficult with three dwarfs, four trolls, and five ordinary men of all shapes and sizes. But Murgott was perfect for the job: he had once been a pirate (and was also a cook). His ears looked like scorched cauliflower, from many sunburns years ago at sea.

  The more a corporal shouted and bullied, the better man he made of you (so people said). “Hand-to-hand fighting,” Murgott roared now. “Copy me! Raise right foot, so! Swivel left foot, so! Kick right foot, hard! And the other bloke’s flat on his backside!” The new recruits tried it and all fell over.

  Then Murgott made them begin bayonet drill with rifles. “Your rifles are not bleedin’ fairy wands!” he roared. “Run round the practice yard twice! And while you’re runnin’, chant out loud: We’re all useless little runts and we will improve!”

  Hodie figured it would be wise to take himself and the broom out of Murgott’s sight in case a burst of cursing came his way.

  He rounded the corner. There on the barracks’ back veranda was a stool. The Corporal’s best boots were under it, and there was a notebook sitting on top – that must be his too. It was easy to tell Murgott’s boots. There was a tiny skull and crossbones on the left one. Nearby was a pile of horse droppings. Hodie rested his broom against the wall. He had just found the shovel when he heard an angry scream – the little Queen was storming onto the veranda in a definite tantrum. She lunged for Murgott’s boots, flew down the steps, whacked their toes and heels into the droppings – then saw Hodie. She dropped the boots in the horse-pile and jumped back just before Murgott, leading the squad of recruits, appeared round the corner.

  For a moment the Corporal stood speechless.

  Then – “My boots!” he roared at Hodie. “You horrible scum!”

  Hodie shot a look at Queen Sibilla and took a step forward. “I’m sorry, sir!”

  The Queen opened her mouth, then closed it slowly. Hodie didn’t blame her. The recruits were goggle-eyed. It would be dreadful if Murgott realised Queen Sibilla had ruined his boots. It would be worse if her mother learned of it. And Princessa Lu’nedda had just popped her head back around the side of the Grand Palace, looking this way.

  Murgott’s face would curdle porridge. “You wait, boy,” he growled. “Wait in your hut while I consider whether to keel-haul you or make you scrub every stone in the exercise yard.”

  From the corner of his eye, Hodie saw Queen Sibilla edge away, then hurry for the back door of the Grand Palace.

  ~

  4

  and several more,

  possibly worse

  In late afternoon, even inside his lean-to behind the old elephant house, Hodie heard ructions from the Palace kitchen. “The potato peelers are broken!” “The knives are blunt!” “The banquet’s due to start in sixty minutes!”

  He would have left for the south at once, before Murgott came up with a punishment. But he had to take food. There should be excellent scraps after the banquet.

  Hodie snuck to the barracks and searched in the cupboard on the back veranda. It was used to store things, like the soldiers’ odd socks which were in a big old satchel. He stacked the socks on a shelf, but kept three especially long ones to use as bandages. He’d probably need a bandage at some point. The satchel would be useful too. Then he crept up through the gardens with his cracked platter for tonight’s dinner. He hoped he’d find enough leftovers for tomorrow’s breakfast, lunch, dinner and, with lu
ck, something to start him off the day after.

  A housemaid saw him coming and slammed the door. He sat on the step. There was whispering inside. The window opened and Corporal Murgott’s bald head appeared – he must be helping with the pastry.

  “Boot-wrecker!” The Corporal’s eyes were wet – from crying?

  The window banged shut.

  “It is just a pair of boots. Try scrubbing them,” Hodie muttered.

  Sounds of polite merriment floated from around the corner on the evening breeze. He stole down the side path. Through the gauzy summer curtains of the Grand Banquet Hall glowed hundreds of candles. A hundred guests, important people of Fontania, as well Emperor Prowdd’on, Princessa Lu’nedda and Commander Gree’sle, chattered, checked that their fingernails were clean (sucked them a little bit if they were not) and waited for food.

  At the head of the table near the open floor-to-ceiling window sat King Jasper, his silver chair-back shaped like a dragon-eagle’s feather. Jasper stroked his short black beard. He looked kingly but bored already. He’d be missing his fiancée, Lady Beatrix.

  In the queenly dining chair beside her brother, Sibilla was in a blue silky dress and pearl coronet, and she wore her favourite gold pendant around her neck. Her hair was only untidy at the ends. She reached down to scratch her ankle, still in the stripy leggings she’d had on that morning. How ridiculous everyone was, hoping that a girl who had tantrums would gain magical ability. If it were true, it would be highly dangerous.

  Hodie crouched in the shrubbery to wait. The first course was served: onion tarts, melon cubes and crumbed fish nibbles.

  The Um’Binnian Emperor had his usual charming smile and kept checking it in the little flat gold spade he used instead of a spoon. His moustache was waxed into a circle with the ends meeting over his chin, and other little circles all the way round. He would have to aim each forkful of his dinner exactly right to get it in.

  “Are you enjoying your meal?” asked Lady Helen.

  “Very pleasant onion tart!” the Emperor shouted. “Very nice fish nibble! I have bigger fish and bigger onion in Um’Binnia!” He smiled again at his reflection.

  Queen Sibilla firmed her pointy chin and stabbed a napkin with her fork. Hodie spotted half an onion tart under the table. With luck, when the feast was over he’d crawl in and grab it.

  Princessa Lu’nedda wiggled her ringlets. “You were busy today, King Jasper? You did great feats of magic in royal workshop?”

  “Thank you for your interest,” Jasper answered. “I’m just building a few bits and pieces.”

  The Princessa gave a roguish laugh. “I think perhaps you make new treasures because you lose old ones.”

  “We hear rumours about The Ties and your dragon-eagles,” said Commander Gree’sle with a narrow smile and narrow eyes.

  If The Ties were actually harnesses or ropes, Hodie didn’t think they would be much use. But he understood why the Um’Binnians were interested. The lost Ties must be very valuable.

  With a polite nod, Jasper leaned back. “I’m sure you have huge rumours in Um’Binnia.”

  “Perhaps King Jasper makes magic cage for dragon bird!” said the Emperor.

  The King’s hand flexed, but he spoke calmly. “The dragon-eagles are free, Emperor. No one can own them.”

  The shrubbery prickled Hodie’s neck. He noticed a potato near the little Queen’s feet. Could he sneak in and snaffle that?

  Lu’nedda fiddled with another ringlet. “Forgive us for teasing. We do not have magic. Um’Binnia is very happy with machines. We are most progressive country.”

  “Very true.” Emperor Prowdd’on pursed his lips so the moustache circle turned into an oval. “We have wind-vehicles and you do not.”

  “Don’t wind-trains keep crashing?” Jasper said. “Besides, they can’t fly when there’s no wind.”

  Prowdd’on behaved as if he didn’t hear. “And everyone is rich in our great city!”

  “How rich?” Queen Sibilla asked. “How much do you pay people?”

  Lady Helen frowned at her daughter, and shook her head.

  Prowdd’on spread his hands and smiled. “Why should I pay? Everyone very proud to work for me.”

  “You mean they’re slaves? That’s not progressive,” Sibilla said.

  Hodie felt like yelling out that the Fontanian royal family had never paid his father. They didn’t pay Hodie either, not even with regular meals.

  “Our people are happy. My father has wonderful progressive Zoo. Many fine creatures!” The Princessa batted the air with imaginary paws. She was older than King Jasper – too old to pretend to be cute, if you asked Hodie.

  “And once you had middle-sized elephant.” Commander Gree’sle looked extremely narrow now about the eyes. “Who looked after it?”

  The wind rattled the leaves in the shrubbery. Sibilla had her teeth clenched as if she was trying hard not to explode. She turned her head and looked right at Hodie in the shadow. She started, and frowned down at her plate. The Commander’s question went unanswered because the next course arrived.

  Hodie backed deeper into the prickly shrub. The wind skirled again, and the candles in the banquet chamber wavered. Queen Sibilla bent down, scratched her ankle and glanced at her mother. Then she snuck a whole potato into the napkin on her lap. She dropped it and, under the table, flapped a hand in Hodie’s direction.

  Heart racing, he stayed in shadow until, in a flurry of servants carrying trays heaped high with roast chickens, he could sneak towards the banquet table. Lu’nedda’s eyes glanced over him. He hoped she didn’t remember that he’d spoken out against her father.

  The Emperor shouted, “I have chicken with more drumstick in Um’Binnia!”

  Lu’nedda turned towards him, and Hodie took the chance to duck under the table.

  Down the far end were three sausages, more potatoes and five bread rolls (some of them buttered). He avoided boots and shoes and high-heeled slippers. When he crawled back to Sibilla’s end, there was a whole roast chicken wrapped in a napkin on the floor. He had no idea how she’d managed that, but he was thankful.

  The satchel was almost full. He slipped from under the table and back to the shadows of the shrubs. Had anyone noticed? Lu’nedda was looking towards the window, frowning again. Commander Gree’sle asked her something. She ignored him. Gree’sle’s smile stayed on, meagre and grim.

  An Um’Binnian officer entered a side door and spoke quietly in Commander Gree’sle’s ear. Gree’sle turned and whispered to the Emperor. Prowdd’on smiled so the circle moustache opened up like elaborate pincers. His fingers drummed the belly of his gold waistcoat.

  “Announcement!” he cried at last. “Tomorrow we hurry home! For our farewell now, we have treat of Um’Binnian Cream. My officers whip it with huge beater. Frothy, very sweet with crunchy sprinkle!” He grinned so the moustache ends stretched well apart. “Wait two minute for one last whip, then we enjoy!”

  The officers served bowls of the pudding and stood back. Hodie noticed that none of the Um’Binnians at the table touched it straight away. He supposed if they ate it often they must be sick of it. Did he have any chance of a leftover treat?

  Sibilla put a small amount to her lips. The Emperor clapped his hands as if he was trying to encourage a two-year-old. Sibilla looked as if she really would explode. He clapped his hands at her again – and suddenly she stood and grabbed a whole bowlful of the Cream.

  “Everyone should taste it, Emperor Prowdd’on!” She pushed through the Um’Binnian officers, stepped outside and thrust the bowl into Hodie’s hands. He was so surprised he nearly dropped it.

  He gave a bow – Gree’sle and Lu’nedda were both staring at him now – and stepped backwards into more prickles.

  Lady Helen shoved her chair back and strode to Sibilla.

  “My dear, excuse yourself,” she hissed. “Pleas
e go to your room.”

  The little Queen swept a magnificent fake-polite curtsey to all the guests and marched out, her back stiff as a pillar.

  Hodie sped off around the corner and down to his lean-to, the full satchel bouncing, and his arms clasped tight around the Cream bowl.

  ~

  The first mouthful tasted like nothing, but the second was very sweet. When Hodie had finished, he yawned so hard his jaw clicked. He listened till he thought the banquet was over and the guests gone, then crept up the garden. He heard the mournful chitter of one lone squirrel lying by the tiny grave under the walnut tree.

  Just as Hodie put the bowl on the kitchen doorstep, the side gate squeaked. Lucky he hadn’t oiled it today after all. He ducked behind the rubbish bins in case it was Murgott. But it was King Jasper and (even though she’d been sent to her room) his sister, the Queen. Hodie stayed well out of sight.

  His father had warned him about eavesdropping: You shouldn’t really do it but it can sometimes save your life – and other people’s. He had never explained what he meant, but Hodie felt it had something to do with why Dardy had become elephant keeper in the first place.

  King Jasper yawned. “I wonder what the message was to Prowdd’on?”

  “I don’t care, if it means they’re going,” said Queen Sibilla. “They’re horrible. They don’t think I should be Queen.”

  “Nor do you,” said Jasper. “And our mother sent you to bed.”

  “Shut up,” said the Queen.

  King Jasper chuckled. “I thought I shouldn’t be King.” He yawned again. “But sometimes things turn out better than you imagine.”

  “They won’t for me,” said Sibilla.

  “Magic takes its own time,” King Jasper said. “Don’t try to push it.”

  Hodie nearly scoffed aloud. But they were coming nearer. He crouched further down behind the bins.

  “Now listen. Tomorrow I’ll give you a present,” Jasper continued.