He turned the knob and opened the door to find not the kitchen, but a small empty room. A rug had been rolled away to reveal an open hatch with stairs leading down, perhaps, he thought, to the kitchen. His stomach urging him on, Teddy descended the stairs slowly, as the light below was quite dim.
At the bottom of the steps, Teddy found himself in another hallway, the ceiling low and the air damp and musty. The floor beneath his bare feet had turned from stone to cool earth. As he inched forward down the dank corridor, confidence in his ability to find the kitchen dwindled with each and every step. He was about to turn back when suddenly he smelled food. Yes, definitely food. He quickened his pace and walked to the end of the hall, turned left, and screamed at the sight of a man coming toward him. The man screamed, too, and ran headlong into Teddy, dropping the tray he was carrying, dishes smashing and cutlery clanging off the hard dirt floor.
The man looked at Teddy with rage in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” Yannick demanded.
Teddy stepped back slowly. “I was hungry,” he said apologetically. “I was looking for the kitchen.”
“The kitchen?” said Yannick, softening his tone. “Now why on earth would you think the kitchen is down here?”
“I smelled food.”
“Uh, yes,” said Yannick with a chuckle. “Easy explanation for that. I was just … feeding the cats, you see.”
Teddy looked at the broken dishes and the cutlery on the ground. “You feed them with a fork?”
“They’re very particular, I’m afraid,” said Yannick. “You know cats.”
“But I thought you said there were no animals allowed in the castle.”
“Did I?” said Yannick with a forced chuckle. “Well, when you think about it, this isn’t really part of the castle.”
“It isn’t?”
Yannick bent to gather up the mess on the floor. “No, it’s the basement.”
“Looks like a dungeon,” said Teddy.
“Sure does,” said Gravy-Face Roy.
“A dungeon?” said Yannick, incredulous at the very thought. “That’s absurd. We have no use for such things around here. Now, what do you say we go to the kitchen and get you something to eat?”
Penny recognized the feeling. It was the same one she had when her family once stayed at a bed-and-breakfast and she had woken in the middle of the night to find a ghost roller-skating back and forth at the end of her bed. The feeling, the sense of a strange presence in the room, was the same, but this time she opened her eyes to find that the ghost was not on roller skates. The spirit appeared to be that of an older man with a gray beard and garments befitting nobility. Penny thought of crying out for her father as she had done at the bed-and-breakfast, but she realized she was strangely unafraid of this ghost with his pathetically sad face.
He said nothing but seemed to beckon her to follow before vanishing through the chamber door. Careful not to awaken Big, Penny crept across the room and out into the hallway, where she saw the ghost disappear behind a rounded door on a curved wall. She hurried across the hall to the door and opened it to find a spiral staircase leading upward.
As she climbed, around and around, up and up, she soon became aware that she was inside one of the castle’s four massive towers. The higher she climbed the colder the air became until finally she ran out of stairs. She stepped through an archway to the rooftop of the castle, where a billion blinking stars coated the sky, providing a spectacular backdrop to an autumn moon that was sharp, brilliant, and nearly full.
Far below, waves could be heard belly flopping onto the beach, one after the other; heard but not seen, as the land and sea below were shrouded in a blanket of thick, low-lying fog. It was nearly November and Penny’s silk nightgown offered scant protection from the frigid breeze. With no sign of the ghost, she had just made the decision to return to her chamber when she heard a voice.
“Mark me,” it rang out, deep and hollow. She turned to find the spirit hovering but a few feet away.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “What do you want?”
“I am Penfold,” the old man droned in a highly dramatic tone. “Doomed for a certain term to walk the night, and the day confined to fast in fires, till the foul crimes done in my days of nature are burnt and purged away.”
Penny wrinkled her nose. Something wasn’t quite right here. “Wait a minute,” she said. “I’m sorry, but isn’t that from Hamlet?”
“What?”
“That whole thing you just said. Those are lines spoken by the ghost in Shakespeare’s Hamlet.”
Penfold hemmed and hawed. “I’m sure you must be mistaken,” he said with minimal conviction.
“I don’t think so,” said Penny, who had somewhat of a Shakespearior attitude when it came to the greatest playwright of all time. “I should know, I’ve read it twice and I received one hundred percent on my report in advanced English.” Penfold seemed to lose some of his ghostly pallor and Penny wondered if he wasn’t blushing. “What do you want from me, anyway? Why are you here?”
The ghost raised his eyes to the stars. “But that I am forbid to tell the secrets of my prison-house,” he emoted.
“Uh, that’s also from Hamlet,” said Penny flatly, her patience waning. “It’s cold out here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going back to bed.” Penny turned to leave and the ghost reappeared in front of her, blocking her escape.
“Okay,” said Penfold, quickly dropping his dramatic flair. “Here’s the deal. I’m the guy who first stole the White Gold Chalice all those years ago, all right?”
“You’re the one?” said Penny, her disdain for the ghost reaching new heights. “You stole the White Gold Chalice? From a dead guy? And left all those poor souls stranded at the gates of Valhalla?”
Penfold hung his head. “Uh, yes. I’m afraid so. But now that you’re here, that’s all about to end.”
“What do you mean about to end? It already has ended. We returned the chalice to the duke this afternoon.”
“Or did you?” said Penfold.
“What do you mean?” asked Penny.
“What I mean is, you must be wary of those in lofty towers who are not themselves. Instead, place thy faith in dwellers of dungeons dark, betrothed to fortune but wed to fate, and foul deed of kin but not of blood. Wrote that one myself. Not bad, huh?”
“Not bad,” said Penny. “But what does it mean?”
The ghost began drifting away, slowly fading from view. He threw the back of his hand across his forehead. “My hour is almost come when I to sulphurous and tormenting flames must render up myself.”
“Also from Hamlet,” said Penny.
“Whatever!” And in a snap, Penfold the plagiarist ghost melted into thin air, leaving Penny alone to try and decipher his words.
She crept down the tower steps and into the pale light of the hallway. She nearly jumped out of her skin when she bumped into a small creature with three eyes. By the time she inhaled enough oxygen for a good-sized scream, she realized that the three-eyed creature was Teddy, his bubble gum stuck to the center of his forehead. Luckily, his mouth was too full of food to cry out with surprise. Penny grabbed him roughly by the arm and he nearly dropped his bowl of rice pudding. “What are you doing out here?”
“I was hungry, so I got something to eat.”
“You just went to the kitchen and helped yourself to some food?”
“No,” said Teddy. “I ran into Yannick when he was feeding the cats and he took me to the kitchen.”
“Cats?” said Penny. “But it was Yannick himself who said that animals were not allowed in the castle.”
“I know,” said Teddy, taking another spoonful of the pudding, which came in at an impressive nine-point-three rating. “But they’re not really in the castle. They’re in the basement. It just looks like a dungeon but it’s really a basement.”
“Dungeon?” gasped Penny. “The ghost said something about dungeons dark.”
“Ghost?” said Teddy. “You saw anoth
er ghost? How come I never get to see ghosts?”
“I can’t speak for them personally but it might have something to do with that gravy-stained sock on your arm. Now, can you show me where this dungeon is?”
“It’s a basement,” said Gravy-Face Roy indignantly. “Not a dungeon.”
Teddy and Roy retraced their steps and Penny followed closely. The rug in the empty room had been rolled back over to cover the hatch. “It’s under there,” said Teddy.
Penny peeled the rug back and, with a grunt, pulled open the heavy door. “You’re right,” she said, peering down the stairway. “It does look like a dungeon.” Cautiously, and against her better judgment, she made her way down the stairs and Teddy followed close behind.
“Can we pet the cats?” he whispered.
“Shh,” said Penny. “Hear that?”
Teddy cocked his head to one side and raised his eyes for better listening. He did hear something coming from the end of the hall. It sounded like growling. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “I don’t want to pet the cats.”
“Come on,” whispered Penny. Teddy followed his sister as she walked, ever so slowly, to the end of the dark corridor. The flickering candles cast long, unsteady shadows along the cold stone walls. The broken dishes had been completely cleaned up and fresh broom strokes marked the dirt. The growling grew in volume as they turned left, down the very passageway from which Yannick had come earlier before bumping into Teddy. As they continued on, the corridor became smaller and darker and the growling became louder but now sounded less like growling and more like … snoring.
“I think the cats are asleep,” whispered Teddy. “We should probably go back now so we don’t wake them up.”
But Penny kept moving and Teddy had no choice but to follow. They reached the very end of the damp tunnel and there he was, the source of the noise, lying on a small bunk in a tiny windowless cell in the far corner of the dungeon. Sorry, basement. The chubby man lay on his side, his face to the wall. “Pssst,” said Penny but the man did not wake. “Hey,” she said louder. Still nothing. She grabbed Teddy’s spoon from his hand and dragged it across the metal bars, back and forth, but the racket failed to stir the man. “Oh for crying out loud.” Penny heaved the spoon at the sleeping prisoner.
“Hey,” Teddy protested.
The spoon bounced off the back of the man’s head and hit the stone wall with a clang. He uttered a few words in Danish that sounded like swear words to both Penny and Teddy. He spun around and stood up. Penny and Teddy gasped in unison at what they saw.
“It’s the duke,” said Penny.
The man’s chubby face registered utter confusion at the sight of his two visitors. “Who are you?” he asked, rushing frantically to the bars, his chins jiggling like Teddy’s rice pudding. Penny and Teddy backed away. Though he spoke with a strong Danish accent, his English was otherwise perfect. “You must help me. Please.”
“Wait a minute,” said Teddy. “He’s not the duke. The duke talks funny and has a crazy eyebrow.”
“But I am the duke,” insisted the man, who seemed to share every facial feature with their gracious host; every one, that is, but the overgrown eyebrow. “I am Ulrik, the Duke of Jutland. The man of whom you speak is an impostor. His name is Wenzel and he is my evil step-twin. His cousin Yannick imprisoned me here and positioned Wenzel in my place, where he has dined at my table and slept in my bed each day and night of these past three months. He would have killed me had his conscience allowed it and still he may one day, once he tires of feeding me.”
That reminded Teddy. He pointed to the floor of the cell. “Could you hand me that spoon?” he asked, anxious to finish the tasty rice pudding. Ulrik seemed annoyed but fetched the spoon and handed it to Teddy, who wiped it on his sleeping gown and resumed feeding his face.
“Wait a minute,” said Penny. “Did you say Wenzel was your step-twin?”
“My evil step-twin.”
“I’m sorry, but what the heck is a step-twin?”
“He is my twin by marriage only. You see, my father died when I was young and my mother was remarried.”
“To someone with a kid who looked exactly like you?”
“Yes,” said Ulrik, as if such a thing were an everyday occurrence. “Except for that eyebrow of his.”
“Of kin but not of blood,” said Penny. “So that’s what the ghost meant.”
“Ghost?” said Ulrik. “You mean Penfold? Is he still stealing lines from Shakespeare?”
“Afraid so,” said Penny. “Listen, my family and I have traveled a great distance. We came here to return the White Gold Chalice to its rightful owner, but …”
Ulrik became suddenly very excited. His perfectly matched eyebrows danced about and he pressed his jowly face to the iron bars. “You have the White Gold Chalice?”
“Well, not anymore,” said Penny. “We thought Wenzel was the cup’s rightful owner, so we gave it to him.”
Ulrik threw up his hands, beside himself. “Ugh! Will my torment never cease?”
“It will,” said Penny. “Now that we’re here. Somehow, we’ll get the chalice and bring it to you.”
“Well, that will certainly solve all my problems,” said Ulrik. “Being locked up in a dungeon will be far more tolerable with a fancy chalice from which to drink.”
“It’s a basement,” said Teddy with his mouth full of pudding. “Not a dungeon.”
“Is there a key?” asked Penny.
“There is but one, so far as I know,” said Ulrik. “Yannick keeps it on a string about his neck.”
“Don’t worry,” said Penny. “We’ll get you out of here. We’ll come back. Is tomorrow night okay?”
“Well, let me check my availability …”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” said Penny. “We are trying to help you, you know.”
“Sorry,” said Ulrik. “I’m just a bit cranky after being holed up in here for so long.”
“I understand,” said Penny. She and Teddy bid Ulrik good night and promised to return the following evening with the White Gold Chalice and the key to his basement cell.
They carefully placed the rug over the hatch door and hurried stealthily down the hallway to the room Teddy shared with his father, his brother, Pinky, and Digs. Penny followed and immediately woke Mr. Cheeseman, thankfully without having to hit him on the head with a spoon.
Though he was quite exhausted, Mr. Cheeseman did not mind being woken up because he just happened to be right in the middle of a terrible nightmare that involved being buried alive under millions of noodles. “What?” he said, shaking the sleep and the noodly horror from his head. “What is it, Penny?” He whispered so as not to wake up Chip, sleeping peacefully across the room, but it was no use.
“What’s going on?” Chip groaned. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
Penny told Chip and Ethan about the ghost and how she had run into Teddy in the hallway. She described how Teddy, anxious for another helping of rice pudding, had stumbled upon the real Duke of Jutland, locked away in a basement cell by Wenzel, his evil step-twin.
“I think you mean doppelgänger,” said Mr. Cheeseman.
“No, it was definitely rice pudding,” said Teddy. “Very tasty.”
“No, no,” said Mr. Cheeseman. “A doppelgänger is a person’s exact double. And that would certainly explain why the curse persists, if indeed it exists at all.”
“Either way,” said Chip, “it seems we may have given the chalice to the wrong guy.”
“Exactly,” said Penny. “And that’s why I promised Ulrik we’d go back tomorrow night and get him out of there.” Mr. Cheeseman agreed. The following night, with the help of Jibby and his crew, they would return the White Gold Chalice to its rightful owner … and its rightful owner to his rightful position as the Duke of Jutland.
Chapter 19
Professor Boxley and Gateman Nametag spent another day waiting in the shadow of the great castle, hoping to see the great Ethan Cheeseman emerge fro
m within. But on this day Ethan was busy with other matters. He and Captain Jibby stood atop the northwest tower where Penny had encountered Penfold the plagiarist ghost the night before. The two men looked down upon the beach below where the Sea Urchin still sat, half buried in the sand, its black and silver flag flapping in the ocean breeze.
Away from the watchful eye of Yannick, the two men secretly formulated their plan to rescue Ulrik and take possession of the White Gold Chalice from Wenzel, who, at this early stage in the day, had already smacked his funny bone on a tabletop, cut himself shaving six times, pulled not one but two groin muscles, and picked up something rather unsavory off the couryard lawn that he had mistaken for sausage. This is why animals were not allowed in the castle.
Though Wenzel didn’t realize it at the time, his honored guests would actually be doing him a favor by relieving him of the White Gold Chalice and its vicious curse. Ethan had only one requirement for the plan: that it be executed with absolutely no violence.
“Come now,” said Jibby. “A little violence never hurt anyone. Besides, without it I don’t know how we’re gonna get that chalice back. Wenzel hasn’t put it down since dinner last night. He even took it to bed with him. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but the door to his room is pretty fiercely guarded—and it’s the only way in.”
“It’s the only way in?” said Ethan. “What about the window?” Jibby and Ethan leaned out as far as they could, trying to get a glimpse of Wenzel’s chamber window some thirty feet below.
“It’s an awfully tiny window,” said Jibby.
“Sure is,” Ethan agreed. “It would take a very small person to squeeze through it.”
“Yes,” said Jibby. “And it’s a good thing we just happen to have such a person.”
The castle courtyard was awash in the soft sunlight of early November. Chip, Penny, and Big took advantage of the unseasonably warm weather, chasing Pinky and Digs around the impeccably manicured grounds, which featured two spectacular fountains and hedges so sharp and tidy that they appeared to have been trimmed with a laser. Teddy sat on a marble bench, watching the fun and feasting on an apple Danish that was nearly the size of his head. Ethan slid in next to him and scruffed up his hair.
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