The Queen and the Nobody Boy

by Barbara Else

  “Don’t speak to me like that, you’re not my father!” Hodie said.

  Murgott’s face went purple-red. Hodie crouched and dug his fingers into his hair. He usually punched only his own head, but right now he would have loved to hit somebody else.

  “Er-hem.” Lu’nedda freed her ringlets (by now most of them looked like whisk brooms). “Let us begin again. What shall we do?”

  “Arrest you,” muttered Hodie.

  Sibilla whacked him.

  “Sorry,” she whispered at once and rubbed his arm.

  Hodie dared to stick his head out and have a look. The distant Um’Binnians were rolling up their chutes and grouping together.

  “The advice of a military man,” said Murgott, still red in the face, “is stay in hiding.”

  “These bushes won’t hide us very well for very long,” Sibilla said.

  “The tactic of coward and wise man would be sneak away,” said the Princessa.

  “You can’t sneak in open country,” said Sibilla.

  Tck-tck, chittered something in the middle of the bush.

  “The third possibility is stand firm,” Lu’nedda said.

  “To fight?” cried Sibilla. “What with?”

  “Murgott has his pocket-knife,” muttered Hodie. “We could take turns to stab the soldiers with the corkscrew.”

  “No more lip from you, boy,” Murgott growled.

  Soldiers ought to be good at quick decisions. So should ex-pirates. So should Queens and Princessas. Any of these three should be a million times better than an odd-job boy. But Hodie spoke up, a note in his voice he hadn’t heard before. He figured it was better to be brave just before you were captured or killed than never at all. “Princessa, are you on our side or not?”

  “I am here,” Lu’nedda said. “Beside you.”

  “That wasn’t what he meant,” Sibilla said. “But you’ve already called me royal sister so … yes, I will trust you.”

  Lu’nedda bowed her tangled ringlets. “Good idea,” she said. “Remember it through coming trials.”

  Hodie kept going. “Empty everything we have from our pockets and bags. Let’s see if we have anything to help.” He couldn’t roar like Murgott because he didn’t have a man’s voice yet. But Murgott, Lu’nedda – even Sibilla – began to empty out their things.

  Murgott had the pocket-knife, shaving gear and extra underpants. He set his anemometer carefully on a pillowy grass tuft. He didn’t bring out the emerald slipper, and Hodie thought it best to leave it unmentioned. Sibilla said nothing either.

  Hodie tried to read Lu’nedda’s face as she tipped out her ringlet-comb (unused) and a handkerchief (used). Perhaps she wanted Prowdd’on to catch up. Perhaps she expected her father to believe she’d been kidnapped a second time. Who could understand the mind of a Princessa? Not Hodie, that was for sure.

  Sibilla’s bag had her pair of bloodied socks, her hairbrush, and that was all.

  Hodie realised Murgott and Lu’nedda were waiting for him to open his satchel, back over his shoulder. The only thing in it was the drawstring bag. Slowly, he drew it out.

  Lu’nedda’s jaw dropped. “You snuck that from my cupboard! Such cunning boy! Such … son of your mother!” The Princessa actually looked impressed.

  Sibilla was trembling. “You’d better open it,” she said.

  The squirrel sat up as if it expected to be fed a magic crumb.

  Hodie had no idea what Murgott would say about the notebook, right at the bottom with the sooty squashed cup. He opened the bag slowly.

  The tangle of seedlings was paler than before. But at the first touch of sunlight a flush of darker green appeared.

  “Can we eat that?” asked Lu’nedda.

  Sibilla’s hair was a cloud of gold in the sunshine. “I … I think it has to wait.”

  A sweet fresh scent came from the tangle. It looked to Hodie too as if it was waiting for a signal. He didn’t know this in his head, and his heart felt too bruised to know anything, except that it longed for a true home where you’d have ordinary arguments about whose turn it was to dry the dishes. No – he glanced at the little Queen’s worried and resolute face, and knew in his bones that Sibilla was right. The green tangle was waiting for some special moment.

  The wind breathed in his ear that there was magic in the world, more magic than Hodie had seen yet. But – well, Hodie thought maybe magic was simply science that was still to be explained. And whatever the truth, magic wasn’t really meant for ordinary people, not for him.

  Lu’nedda reached towards the bag. “Tip it out. I remember seeing a spanner, and a book …”

  Cht-chit! The squirrel’s tail expanded to twice its size. Fur stood up along its spine. It pointed one of its paws towards the east.

  Hodie shoved the tattered bag behind his back. Striding towards them over the tufts of spiky grass was a squad of soldiers. Four of them carried a sedan chair. The person in it wore a purple and gold helmet.

  Lu’nedda looked a bit sick.

  And this was all before breakfast. Actually, Hodie didn’t think any of them had eaten since breakfast yesterday, except the squirrel which had taken that lick of Roar-juice. Hodie didn’t count the peanuts in the royal wind-car, they’d tasted too horrible.

  He felt his hand squeezed. Sibilla gave a very small, sweet smile. “We just have to trust,” she whispered. “Trust Lu’nedda, and Murgott, and each other. I trust you, anyway.” So that was another good moment.

  Then they and the shrub under which they had slept were surrounded by large soldiers from Um’Binnia. Emperor Prowdd’on, Commander Gree’sle and the soldiers all looked as if they’d managed to eat a hearty breakfast, probably with vast pancakes and oversized sausages.

  ~

  38

  the choice of Ocean Toads

  Prowdd’on gave a royal jerk of his hand. After a moment, Lu’nedda brushed down her tattered skirt, pushed her battered ringlets behind her ears and walked to stand beside the sedan chair.

  Families, thought Hodie. Stick together, no matter what – except for mine, of course. Ha ha, that was not a bit funny.

  The little Queen stood straight, hands clasped before her.

  “Good morning,” she said. “You seem to have captured us again, but what is the point? You can’t get home.”

  “That is in splendid control.” Prowdd’on patted his moustache (today it was shaped like two pistols). “My army marches this way now with horses and carriage. The Um’Binnian Imperial Navy is sailing here too. Of course we get home. Meantime, I believe you carry something I desire for many years. Something that will mean I can have both dragon-eagles as well as Fontania.”

  “Empty out all pockets! Empty all bags!” Gree’sle’s eyes were narrow slivers.

  “Look around,” Murgott said, “already did.”

  Hodie snuck sideways to stand so the bag of treasures was concealed between him and Murgott.

  An officer picked Murgott’s anemometer from the clump of grass, smirked and flicked the lid open. The little wind-speed attachment popped up.

  “Nice toy,” said the Great Prowdd’on, and grabbed it. “Now toy is mine.” The wind-cups turned slowly. He scoffed and dropped the anemometer on the ground beside his chair.

  Hodie saw Sibilla glance at the horizon. Another officer grabbed Murgott’s duffel bag and upended it. Out fell Lu’nedda’s slipper – the emeralds glinted and the chin-fluff of the mountain dove wafted in the breeze. Murgott blushed like a very hot fire. Lu’nedda looked shocked, and blushed like an even hotter fire.

  From the ground came a faster whirr from the anemometer. Hodie glanced at it, then at the sky. A dark grey roller of cloud was starting to form on the horizon. He heard Sibilla draw in a breath, but now she was staring down to the beach. Several large grey things bobbed in the surf.

  “Your tur
n, boy. What are you hiding?” Gree’sle’s eyes went squintier with every sentence. “Show me at once!”

  Chit! On its hind legs the squirrel danced towards the Emperor as if it longed to bite and scratch. Sibilla gathered it up, held it tight and glanced again at the north-west sky.

  “Fontanian Ties!” Gree’sle hissed. “Give me Ties! I found them for Emperor and I will give Ties to him now!”

  Hodie picked up the bag. What choice did he have? The wind blew his fringe into his eyes and made them sting. He put a hand up, and the bag slipped. One shoot of the green tangle spilled out and touched the ground. He jerked the bag shut and tried to seize the fallen shoot, but it had already twisted into the ground, and little green side shoots were beginning to twine around the shrub.

  Prowdd’on lurched out of his sedan chair. “Just give The Ties!”

  Gree’sle snatched for the bag, but the side shoots forced up and immediately become a thick tangle that kept Hodie from him. Hundreds, thousands of green side shoots grew like a platform now – under Hodie’s feet, Sibilla’s feet, Murgott’s. Within seconds, that one scrap of broken shoot had become a cup of vines for them to stand in, leaves round as coins, flowers like sweet-scented stars. Waist-high to Murgott, the cup encircled and supported them, a barrier between them and the Um’Binnians. It raised them up so Hodie saw past Prowdd’on, past the soldiers, down to the beach.

  Chk-chk-chk! The squirrel screamed in the little Queen’s arms. Murgott groaned and turned pale as paper. The grey things in the waves were Ocean Toads, hopping directly for them – three … four … seven Ocean Toads spread out in formation.

  The oniony stench of the seven Toads began to drift up from the beach. Lu’nedda, still at her father’s side, put a hand to her nose, went stiff as a statue, then turned and saw the Toads coming. She gave a most impressive scream and grabbed Gree’sle’s sword.

  “Sire!” cried the Commander. “For heaven’s sake, look!”

  Prowdd’on let out a yell, began to dive back to his sedan chair then tried to scramble into the cup of vines. It bounced him off. The wind blew a little harder. One moment Hodie smelled a sweet scent from the green tendrils, the next the odour of Toad again was thick and dank.

  Officers used pistols, soldiers their rifles – but the hides of Ocean Toads were thicker than elephants’. Even their eyelids were reinforced. Bullets ricocheted, and rebounded again off the soldier’s armoured vests. The Toads came on.

  The officers drew their swords but they must have known that Ocean Toads can spit many swords’ lengths. The solders backed further, further … by now many of them were well behind the cup of vines (and several had run off into the distance).

  Again Prowdd’on tried to clamber through the tangle into the cup. It threw him back a second time. Gree’sle grabbed his sword from Lu’nedda and slashed at the vines. They were unbreakable. Lu’nedda edged from the Toads, but stayed close to the green tangle.

  The Toads hopped nearer, white eyes blinking. They croaked and snorted, the kind of noise that meant an animal was hopeful about something delicious.

  “Let me in!” shrieked Prowdd’on. The Toads were heading straight for him now.

  “The Toads are hungry,” Sibilla cried.

  A soldier hurriedly unbuckled a rucksack, flung out a sandwich and jumped back behind the cup of vines. The Toads croaked, sniffed, shuffled, and ignored it. An officer threw them a bun. But the semi-circle of Toads kept closing in.

  Hodie, Sibilla and Murgott ducked down inside the vines.

  The squirrel batted Hodie again and spat: Ptha-ptha!

  “Roar-juice?” Hodie said. “We don’t have any.”

  Sibilla jumped up. “Roar-juice!” she cried to Lu’nedda.

  “Roar-juice! Of course!” Lu’nedda pointed at Gree’sle’s jacket pocket. “Gree’sle! Give them Roar-juice!”

  Gree’sle fumbled the gold flask out of his pocket. The Toads drew in, blinking faster. Pleading croaklets tumbled from their mouths. Gree’sle unscrewed the top and shoved the flask into Prowdd’on’s hand.

  “Not me, fool! I order you to feed the beasts!” screamed Prowdd’on.

  Gree’sle stood like an icicle of fright.

  “You are creature of feebleness!” Lu’nedda snatched the flask from his hands and poured out the Roar-juice.

  With seven croaks, the Toads bumped over the Emperor, Commander and Princessa. They pounced on the puddle. Every last soldier screamed and ran behind the cup of vines. Every last officer rattled out confusing orders. There were terrible groans from Prowdd’on and Gree’sle as they wrenched themselves up and out from the Toad-huddle.

  “Princessa!” cried Murgott. “Princessa!” He scrambled out of the cup of vines, tripped to the ground and started crawling to find Lu’nedda – but she was clambering out the other side of the Toad-huddle.

  A Toad raised its head and sniffed in the direction of the Emperor.

  “Keep them off me, stupid woman!” Prowdd’on cried. “Pour them some more!”

  “The flask is empty!” yelled Lu’nedda.

  The wind blew so hard that the vines around Hodie and the Queen, held by an anchor of roots, began to rock.

  “Save yourselves!” came Murgott’s voice from somewhere on the ground. “Hodie, save the Queen!”

  If the wind blew hard enough … Hodie tugged the rim of the vines nearest the wind. Yes! The cloud was right above now and the wind increasing with a roar like thunder. Hodie tugged again. At last the roots tore from the ground and the tangle rose into the air. It skimmed across the dunes like a runaway nest.

  Chuk! The squirrel clambered onto the rim and clung tight, fur ruffled every-which-way in the wind. The Great Prowdd’on and his soldiers, along with Lu’nedda and Murgott, were left far behind. In the last glimpse Hodie had of the Toads, it looked as if they might be playing leap-frog.

  ~

  39

  the problem with disagreement

  The nest skimmed inland, lifted over a forest, flew across a rushing river, then over more forest. Hodie clung on, sweating. Twigs jabbed into his legs. For a moment, the nest stuck in the top branches of a tree and rocked madly. It tore free but stuck in another tree almost at once.

  Sibilla’s hands were still white-knuckled. “This is definitely one of The Ties,” she began.

  “You don’t have to make conversation,” Hodie said, trying not to be actually sick.

  The nest lurched and Sibilla let out a yelp.

  “Ouch …” Hodie clung as tight as he could and tried shifting to another spot. “If you’re being exact,” he continued, “this flying nest could be a sort of tumbleweed. It does come from one of the seeds that seem to be part of some treasures. It is unusual, but there is often a scientific explanation.”

  The little Queen’s jaw clenched, probably on the Royal Swear Word. “It is obviously magic. It’s more obvious all the time.”

  The nest was still stuck, high above ground. The tangle grew more prickly with every moment.

  “Ouch,” Sibilla muttered. It would be awful if she burst into tears. Instead she tried to smile, but it looked fake-jolly. “Well, we can argue about that later. I just hope it takes us to my brother. Jasper will know what to do.”

  “For goodness sake!” shouted Hodie. “If you’re the Queen, you should know what to do at a time like this! What on earth do royal people teach their children?”

  She gave him such a filthy look he was sure she’d come out with the Royal Swear Word. But something small flashed past, flashed back and clattered into the bottom of the nest. A mechanical brass pigeon – one of Jasper’s? Sibilla stretched a foot out and gave it a nudge.

  Whirring noises came from the pigeon, clacking and a beep.

  “Jasper!” she said.

  “Get to …” said Jasper’s voice. “… too far for me (clack) map is lost … (clack
clack) Sibilla, I believe you’re out of Um’Binnia. You have to find the old … quickly as … (whirr, click, clack).”

  “But Jasper!” cried Sibilla. “Where will I find the old dragon-eagle?”

  “(whirr) … you have The Ties, might also have the map… magic is hard to manage but … trust your instinct… the dragon-eagle will tell (whirr, clack).”

  “Jasper!” she yelled again. “Just come and get me!”

  “… take The Ties, especially … tinder-cup … Mount of the … (scraunch) … I’m sailing across the Great Salt … (whirr clack) … Beatrix and the Royal Traveller an hour ahead of me … important for you to know … she discovered … Queen’s sceptre, you know, the (graunch graunch) … in two places for safe-keeping … (click-ick) … When you save the old dragon-eagle, come at once, meet us at the foot of Um… (clank).”

  One wing of the pigeon fluttered up and then collapsed. A puff of smoke rose from where a real bird might have an ear.

  The flying nest rocked madly in another gust and ripped free from the tree.

  Sibilla’s hair was in the worst tangle Hodie had ever seen. “Now do you believe me?” she shouted.

  “I believe the pigeon is a poorly made mechanism!” he shouted back.

  The nest hurled through the sky for a moment as if someone had thrown it in a fit of temper. Then, at the edge of the forest, the wind dropped and, with a sickening plummet, dumped the nest down beside a roaring river.

  ~

  Within seconds, the squirrel (when it had stopped reeling) hopped out to nose about. Hodie scrambled out too, getting thoroughly scratched, and had a thorough retch into some bushes. When he staggered back, Sibilla was still in the nest, standing up, looking around with her hands in fists.

  “Where are we?” she cried. “We’re nowhere! I thought … I thought The Ties would spring into life when I needed them. That we were heading towards Jasper.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not a good idea to believe everything will turn out the way you want.”