by Tony Davis
“You’d better check everything is all right, page boy,” Lord Urbunkum said as he turned quickly to walk through a nearby doorway. “I have some urgent business to attend to.”
Seven
The Great Escape
Roland looked across the bailey and quickly realized what the trouble was: the elephant was on the loose. The bashing and thumping noises hadn’t been caused by the elephant, though. They were the sounds of people knocking things over as they screamed and ran away.
Roland took several paces forward and looked at the elephant, which was now standing still and shaking. He decided it was more scared than any of the people watching it. But Roland didn’t want to get too close, nevertheless. The elephant took a few small steps toward a group of people trapped up against a wall, then stopped and looked at them.
“Maybe it won’t hurt anyone,” said one man as the crowd started to calm down.
“I think it should be shot with arrows, just in case,” said another.
“Where is the handler?” asked a third.
“I know,” said a fourth. “One of the older pages told him he had to report to the King immediately.”
Roland looked into the elephant’s big, wrinkly eyes and knew King John was right—it was a gentle beast. Nobody should shoot it with arrows. They just needed to find the handler.
After a while the elephant began slowly wandering around the bailey, swinging its trunk and occasionally letting out the sort of low grumble a dog would make—if the dog was the size of a small house. At times it flapped its big lettuce leaf ears as if it was a bird trying to take off.
The elephant walked behind a row of wooden wine barrels and made another colossal trumpeting sound with its trunk. Then it stayed perfectly still, looking at everyone and breathing heavily.
The constable stepped forward and, in his loud, raspy voice, ordered everyone to stand behind the thick wooden wall that surrounded the chapel. “And does anyone know who opened the gate to the elephant’s pen?” he bellowed, scratching his bald head.
“I do!” yelled someone running out of the crowd. “It was Roland, s-s-s-s, the new page.”
The constable’s bushy eyebrows lifted with surprise. “Why would he do that?”
“Because … because … he’s poor,” said Hector with another hiss or two. “These things happen when you try to make a knight, or even a page, out of a poor boy, s-s-s-s.”
Roland couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “It’s not true, it’s not true, I didn’t do it,” he said, but his tiny voice was drowned out by the crowd that had gathered around him.
“You let him out?” a woman snarled.
“We could all have been killed,” said an old man. “We still might be.”
“I wouldn’t like to be you right now, young page,” said an even older man.
The constable grabbed Roland roughly by the sleeve and walked him out of the bailey, up a set of stairs and along a corridor.
“We’ve got other things to deal with right now, so you can wait,” the constable barked as he pushed Roland into a small stone lockup.
He then turned an enormous key in the lock of the thick wooden door. “I’ll be back, young man. There will be an inquiry. I wouldn’t like to be you right now, either.”
Roland had never felt so scared and lonely in his life.
“Why don’t they believe me?” Roland asked as he lifted Nudge out of his top pocket. “I had no reason to let the elephant out.”
The lockup had no furniture and only one tiny window near the ceiling. Roland bent down to sit on the floor.
“You are the only friend I’ve got here, Nudge. And even if I get out of this room, I’ve told Humphrey we’d somehow get you out of the castle by the new week. What are they going to do to us? What is my father going to say?”
As Roland sat on the cold stone he felt a lump in the side pocket of his tunic. He stuck his hand in and pulled out a short, thick iron stick. He had no idea what it was or where it came from, but he had more important things on his mind. Roland put the small piece of iron straight back into his pocket, sat down and started rubbing Nudge’s neck. He could still hear a great deal of noise from out in the bailey.
Nudge looked at Roland carefully, then twitched his pink nose, stood up on his rear legs and lifted his eyes up toward the window. He sniffed the air and then reached up toward the small square of light with his right front paw.
“What are you telling me, Nudge? Up there? The window? It’s much too high.”
Nudge now seemed to be pointing at the window with both front paws.
Roland looked carefully at Nudge. “Really? Do you think it is possible?”
Roland still thought it was too high but he knew that if he only had one friend left, he should do what that one friend wanted. He should try to climb up to the window. Roland put Nudge back in his pocket, took a deep breath and pushed his fingers into a crack between the stones.
Roland pulled himself up enough to get one foot into another crack in the stone wall, then found a hand grip higher up. Soon Roland was halfway between the ground and the window—and much too scared to look down.
The big blocks of stone that made up the wall were rough. This made it easier to find things to hold on to, but the stone was also cold and damp, which made it slippery. Right near the top of the wall, Roland’s right hand suddenly slipped clean out. He let out a short scream but somehow held on with everything else and didn’t fall.
“Nearly there,” Roland said when his heartbeat finally slowed down. He stretched his fingers and just managed to reach the ledge below the window. Another half push and he could grab one of the bars and use it to pull himself up.
“Got it, Nudge,” Roland yelled with delight. “We’ve made it.”
Roland now had two hands around the bars of the window and could pull himself up far enough to look out. He felt brave enough now to look down at the floor of the lockup. It was a terrifying distance below. Roland was amazed he had managed to climb so high.
Looking out through the grate, Roland realized that he and Nudge were high up in one of the castle’s north towers. The window was just above the walkway that ran along the top of the inner castle wall, and it gave a good view down to the bailey.
Roland could see that most people had fled the bailey or were standing behind the chapel wall. The elephant handler had returned. He was holding the leash and raising his whip. This time, though, the animal simply refused to move no matter how hard the leash was pulled.
Roland could tell even from way up high that the handler didn’t want to use the whip. The man gave the elephant a couple of very gentle slaps but it just shook its head, flapped its ears, growled, then turned away.
Soon Roland noticed Hector walking out from behind the chapel wall.
“Give that to me,” he shouted at the elephant handler. “What’s needed here is a hero, not a coward.”
Hector walked around the wine barrels, grabbed the whip and lashed the elephant as hard as he could. A horrible sound bounced around the castle walls as the leather whip hit the thick gray skin of the elephant’s trunk and body.
“Stop, stop,” yelled the handler as the elephant groaned, then squealed like a pig.
“Oh, Nudge, the poor animal.”
Suddenly the elephant lifted its trunk high above its head. Its ears shot outward, its tail lifted and it charged three or four steps forward, its long tusks just missing Hector and the handler. They both ran as fast as they could back behind the chapel wall.
Although the mighty tusks missed Hector and the handler, they did hit two of the wine barrels. The elephant was suddenly surrounded by pools of red wine that looked like blood.
What happened next surprised Roland—and everyone else. The elephant stuck its trunk into the pools of wine and noisily slurped them dry.
All the wine disappeared in just a few moments. The elephant stood still for a while, then started to look unsteady on its feet. It let out a mighty burp, then
charged across the bailey and smashed into the wall protecting Hector, the handler and the frightened crowd.
There was an almighty crash but the wall held up. There was more screaming as the elephant trumpeted mightily, then pushed its tusks against the wall and tried to push it over.
Roland could see the wall begin to bend. Soon there was a tusk sticking right through the wooden slats, and the wall looked ready to fall.
Eight
In the Lockup
In desperation, the constable called in the royal archers. As the elephant readied to charge the wall again, they set their arrows and started pulling back their bowstrings.
The elephant moved away, as if it knew it was in danger, but suddenly the archers hesitated.
“I command you to halt,” yelled King John from a window in the royal suites high above the chapel. “My elephant—my magnificent creature from the other side of the world—is a gift from Notjohn. You can’t possibly harm it. It would be a horrible insult to my brother.”
“Then what should we do, Your Majesty?” the constable yelled back. “How can we make sure the elephant doesn’t squash someone?”
“We’ll need to ask an expert,” said King John. “Find me Lord Urbunkum!”
A short time later the constable arrived, pulling Lord Urbunkum along by the arm. “We found him, Your Majesty, under his bed.”
“I was feeling a little low, Your Majesty,” said Lord Urbunkum, “so I lay on my bed. Then I felt even lower, so I thought I should lie under it. But I’m here now and, and, and … and I’ll do whatever I can to help. But I think it is best that I do it from on top of a wall. I find that reasoning works best from a position of authority.”
Lord Urbunkum quickly made his way up to the walk atop the castle’s northern wall—well clear of the elephant—and began talking down to it in a firm voice.
“You’ve had your fun now. You’ve done some damage. Nobody is blaming you, but it is time to go back to your pen. Returning of your own free will is an act that will make you a better person, er, elephant. You’ve got to decide what you want out of life and how you want others to judge you.…”
The elephant looked up and seemed to be listening. When Lord Urbunkum had finished, it lifted its trunk and sprayed him with a mist of red wine, spit and elephant snot.
Lord Urbunkum blushed a deep scarlet and put his hands on his large stomach.
“I still feel off-color, Your Majesty,” he said with a whimper. “Normally something like this wouldn’t be a problem—I’m an expert on dragons, as you know—but I’m feeling very poorly and I need to return to my room.”
Seconds later Lord Urbunkum was gone and the elephant was running wonkily around the bailey, turning every so often to again charge the wooden wall. Luckily, the guards had propped the wall up with more wood and it somehow managed to stay upright.
Roland could only watch from on high through the grated window. He wished he could help—even more so when he saw one of the squires race out of a doorway and into the bailey.
The squire, dressed in armor, was shouting at the elephant and trying to push it back toward its pen with his shield. But with just a tiny shove, the elephant squashed the squire in armor against a stone wall. It made a horrible sound, like a bug being crushed.
Two other squires ran out to grab the young man in the flattened armor. “Smithy,” one of them called out as they bravely carried him past the elephant and ran toward the palace forge. “Smithy, help us cut him out. Quick!”
Three ladies had also rushed to help the squashed squire. They now found themselves stranded between the elephant and the only doorway that would lead them to safety. The elephant had them trapped and was letting out a deep rumbling sound. Its ears stuck out, its tail lifted and it looked ready to charge, even if its legs were still wobbly.
When Roland saw the three women he realized straightaway who the middle one was. Her pointed wimple had fallen almost completely off her head, showing her long red hair.
“Lady Mary, it’s Lady Mary! We’ve got to help, Nudge, we’ve got to help.”
Roland knew he had to escape, even if escaping was against all the rules. “Anyway, Nudge, how much more trouble can we be in?”
Roland pushed himself against the bars to see if he was slim enough to slip through. He breathed in as hard as he could, and Nudge did too. Roland pushed and pushed and … suddenly he and Nudge fell onto the stone walkway above the northern wall.
Without thinking exactly how he was going to help, Roland scooped Nudge back into his top pocket and ran down a set of stairs toward the three trapped women. He burst into the bailey … and—to even his own surprise—sprinted right through the elephant’s legs. Seconds later he was facing the biggest creature he had ever seen.
King John watched from his window. He was just about to call back the archers to try to save the women when Roland appeared. Even though the boy looked unbelievably small next to the elephant, something made the King wait. He could see that while the trapped women were covering their faces and trying to squeeze into the corner, the thin redheaded boy was looking the elephant straight in the eye.
Even from on high, the King could make out the determined look in that young face as he tried to stare down the huge animal. He could see too that instead of putting his hands up to protect his face, the boy had his hands by his side. He seemed to be pushing his chest out toward the elephant.
The elephant raised its trunk and let out the most amazing noise, somewhere between the blaring of trumpets and a human scream. The massive animal once more tensed and prepared to charge.
“That’s the new page, isn’t it?” said the King, squinting to get a better view as he yelled down to the constable. “Didn’t you lock him up?”
“I thought I did, Your Majesty.”
“Not very well, it seems. And I fear, Constable, that he’s not going to be able to beat an elephant.”
Nine
The Showdown
The elephant started to move slowly and unsteadily toward Roland. There was no doubt in anybody’s mind that it could squash Roland in one blink and trample the three women in another.
There were screams and gasps but Twofold Castle’s newest page didn’t take a step backward. With his bottom lip stuck out and his eyes peering straight into those of the elephant, Roland instead started to walk forward.
Everyone held their breath as the elephant lowered its tusks and then swung its trunk right near Roland’s face. Roland ducked but he didn’t lift his hands to protect himself. He stood straight back up, with his arms pinned back and with his chest pushed out toward the huge animal.
As Roland took another step forward, the elephant did the same until they were almost nose to nose—or nose to trunk. Roland looked smaller and thinner than ever; the tusks looked large enough to poke right through his body if the elephant took just one more step forward. But Roland stood firm with his legs straight and his chest out.
Suddenly, with a grunt that echoed around the castle walls, the elephant lifted its right front leg—and moved it backward. It was only a half step, but it was soon followed by another half step in the same direction. The elephant was moving away from the three women, reversing toward its pen.
As the elephant slowly moved backward, Roland moved forward, his tiny steps now mirroring those of the huge beast. Once or twice it looked like the elephant was going to stop, but, after a pause here and there, it kept retreating.
When the elephant was finally in its pen the handler ran from behind the wall and closed the big wooden door, then slid the beam into place. He jammed the handle of his whip into the eyelet at the top so that the beam couldn’t slide out.
“Success!” yelled someone in the crowd. Soon there was cheering all around as people moved out from behind the wall. Some ran toward Roland, others to the three women.
“Well done, Roland,” shouted Lady Mary. “You saved us, and all on your own.”
Lady Mary moved forward to give her special
page a huge hug, but Lord Urbunkum suddenly reappeared and blocked the way.
“Calm down, calm down, everyone,” he chirped above the noise of the crowd. “Fortunately the elephant listened to what I said and saw reason. I’m going to be modest about it, of course, but everyone should be aware that the big beast stopped its evil romp all because of me and my expert techniques.”
Roland heard a sigh behind him, then a quiet and gentle voice said, “Isn’t there some nonsense spoken in the world!”
Roland turned around and noticed it was the elephant handler.
“Hello, young page,” the handler said. “You’re the real hero. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. How did you do it?”
Roland had another of his hunches. This was the kindly soul who didn’t want to whip his animal, even when it wouldn’t return to its pen. This man could definitely be trusted.
“You mustn’t tell anyone this, Mr. Handler, but in my top pocket I have a mouse. And he was sticking his face out of my surcoat and looking straight at the elephant.”
The elephant handler responded with a strange look on his face. “I won’t tell a soul, I promise. But surely you know that it’s just a story that elephants are scared of mice?”
Roland looked down at the ground and started to feel sick. “Really?”
“Yes, it’s a fiction, invented by minstrels to make people laugh. The truth is that elephants can just tread on anything that’s worrying them, including mice—and pages. They probably can’t even see something as small as a mouse.”
Roland could feel the backs of his legs shaking. “Then why did the elephant walk backward if it wasn’t afraid of my pet mouse, Nudge?”