by Paul Gamble
“But why Northern Ireland? Why not back in England and Wales? There are a lot more people over there.”
“Remember, he was banished, Jack,” interjected Grey.
“But that was ages ago. And King Arthur’s dead.”
Trudy sighed deeply. “We need to figure this out if we’re going to find my mother. Merlin must be hiding her somewhere. We just need to figure out where exactly.”
A thought struck Jack. “And that isn’t all we have to do. We need to get back to the school.”
“Why? I don’t think Merlin will be there.”
Jack looked into Trudy’s eyes. “Not Merlin. David. Think about it. He’s eating the health-food bars and auditioning for the films. Merlin knows he’s my friend—so he’d make a great hostage. That must be why they didn’t throw him out of the auditions despite all the chaos he caused.”
“I’ll get you a Ministry car immediately,” said Grey.
* * *
The minute the Ministry car pulled up outside the school Jack and Trudy leapt from it. “Which way?” Trudy asked.
Jack saw a poster attached to the wall that read THE ONCE-FORGOTTEN KING—REHEARSALS. An arrow pointed to the school hall.
* * *
Jack and Trudy stood in the entranceway of the school hall. The room was teeming with dozens of children who had also been successful in the auditions and were now beginning rehearsals. Standing at the front of the hall on the stage was David, dressed in a suit of knight’s armor and holding a sword in each hand.
David was surrounded by five animatronic goblins, all of whom were clutching dangerous-looking spiked clubs.
Jack shuddered. Maybe Merlin wasn’t intending to capture David; maybe he’d try and kill him! “We’ve got to get up there! They’ll pretend one of the animatronic goblins went haywire and accidentally killed him.”
Trudy immediately started pushing her way through the crowd, but the hall was packed full. Even with Trudy’s strength and the general level of fear she inspired in many pupils, they only managed to edge forward slowly.
“We’ll never make it,” Jack despaired. Then he looked up onstage and noticed something strange—something he’d never seen before. David was holding a sword in his hand. He had been holding it for over a minute, and … and yet so far he hadn’t dropped it and hurt someone. Something very unusual was going on.
The goblin robots started slowly approaching David. He smiled and twirled one of the swords like a baton. Trudy noticed that something was wrong too. “Jack, did David just spin that sword in his hand?”
“Yes—and yet no one needs stitches. This is very odd indeed.”
One animatronic goblin leapt at David and flung its club. David jerked his head to one side and the club flew past him. Behind him the club crashed into another goblin’s head and clattered to the floor in a shower of sparks. David spun around and cut the disarmed animatronic goblin’s head off. It sank to its knees before totally collapsing.
The remaining three goblins circled David cautiously. Two jumped at him and swung their clubs. David blocked their blows and effortlessly moved past them. The third goblin moved in and struck at David. He used the blade of the sword in his left hand to block and then twisted his elbow so that the club fell from the goblin’s hand. Despite the fact that David was still surrounded by three enemies, he paused and smiled into the crowded hall. The other pupils roared their appreciation.
Jack was speechless.
“You know,” Trudy said, turning to Jack, “David’s actually quite good-looking when he isn’t falling over all the time.”
Jack gaped at Trudy, who suddenly realized what she had just said. “Although obviously if you ever tell him that I’m going to punch your shoulder so hard that your right hand will become your left.”
“Understood,” said Jack.
Back onstage David was fending off the goblins with effortless ease. He had even gone as far as kicking the third goblin’s club back to him in order to give the crowd a bit more of a show.
The three goblins retreated back slightly and then all charged at once. David yawned and threw both his swords into the air. He ran straight at the goblins, weaving his way through their clumsy strikes. When he was at the far side of the stage he reached into the air and caught his swords as they fell. The goblins turned to face him and raised their clubs. David spun in a circle and decapitated two of them before sticking both swords into the belly of the last one standing. It fizzed slightly, stiffened, and fell to the ground with a metallic clang. David turned to the audience and dramatically flourished one hand in a sign of triumph. The hall exploded into applause, all except Jack and Trudy, who were too confused to do anything other than keep pushing their way through the crowd.
They found David sitting backstage with four assistants around him. One brought him a large Mr. M health-food bar while the others were removing his armor. “Hey Jack, Trudy! Did you see my audition?” David said with a smile.
“How did that happen?” asked Trudy. “Have you been getting secret knight lessons or something?”
David frowned. “What? No, I sleep at night, Trudy. Do I look tired to you?”
“Not that, David! Look, you’re normally clumsy and yet you were … well, to be honest, you were amazing fighting those goblin robot things,” Jack said.
David nodded. “I know I’m clumsy—but just because I’m clumsy it doesn’t mean that I’m not good at other things.”
“I know you’re good at lots of things,” Jack said,67 “but it doesn’t stop you from being clumsy. So how did you defeat those robots? How did you suddenly stop being clumsy?”
David continued crunching his health-food bar. “I didn’t stop being clumsy. But I’m a wonderful actor. And although I’m clumsy, the character I was acting isn’t clumsy. So, I can do amazing things because the character I’m playing can do them. That’s how good an actor I am.”
“I don’t think that’s the way acting works,” Trudy said.
“You just saw what happened onstage—that’s clearly exactly the way acting works.”
Jack tried to explain to David what was going on. “You’ve got to stop eating those health-food bars and you can’t be in this film. It’s a front for something. There’s something bad going on.”
David put his health-food bar down and stared at Jack. “I’ve been your friend for years now. And yet you still do this?”
“Do what? Try to save your life?”
“I’ve found something I’m good at. I’m a great actor. Look at all these film people fussing over me.” David pointed at the assistants running around him. “I’m going to get a speaking part in this film. Can’t you just be happy for me?”
“David, if any of this was real I’d be over the moon for you. But it isn’t. An ancient magician-scientist is behind all this. He’s got an evil plan and you’re probably part of it.”
Trudy agreed with Jack. “He’s telling you the truth. There probably isn’t even a film.”
David’s whole body seemed to droop. “Guys, let me be the hero for once, okay? Just once.” He got up from the chair and left, followed by his assistants. He paused and looked over his shoulder. “And if there isn’t really a film, tell me what on earth that thing out on the playing fields is?”
Jack and Trudy stood and watched as their friend walked away.
* * *
MINISTRY OF S.U.I.T.S HANDBOOK
ARMOR
ITS REAL INVENTION
If you have ever visited a castle or even a stately home, you may well have seen a full suit of plate-metal armor. Historians will tell you that these were created to help knights fight in battle, but it is perfectly apparent after even the briefest consideration that this isn’t true at all.
Fighting people with swords and axes is a very tiring business at the best of times. Trying to do it while totally covered in metal—which weighs you down, makes it difficult to breathe, and makes it almost impossible to see—is very demanding indeed.
You might think that a knight invented armor because it kept his life safe. You might think that a blacksmith invented it because it would be another product to sell. You might think a king invented it because he wanted to win more battles.
The truth is much more obvious than that. Armor was invented by a man called Artemis who worked in a castle laundry. Battles are smoky, muddy, and bloody places. And the major advantage with armor is that it has a “wipe clean” surface. By inventing armor, Artemis came up with a way of substantially reducing his own workload.
Sadly, Artemis never got the credit for his invention, because after creating it he was stabbed thirty-six times and died. A description of the assailant who killed Artemis was not forthcoming, which is strange, because the thirty-six boys who were in charge of polishing duties at the castle were coincidentally all witnesses to the crime. It was clear they were witnesses as they were all absolutely covered in blood.
Interestingly enough, although Artemis invented armor, he was not responsible for making it popular. That was achieved by a young blacksmith whose name remains unknown.68
* * *
23
THERE BE DRAGONS
Jack stood silently blinking and watching his best friend get smaller and smaller as he walked away. Part of him was angry, but another part of him knew exactly what David meant. Even before Jack had joined the Ministry he’d clearly been the “hero” in their friendship. He’d been the popular one, the one who was better at sports (although he wasn’t actually any good at sports—just better than David was), the one who got invited to parties … and David was the “sidekick.” Jack wondered if he should have thought about this more. Maybe David didn’t like being the sidekick.69
Jack felt like talking to someone, but Trudy’s skills as a sympathetic listener were somewhat limited, and so instead, Jack and Trudy decided to investigate what David had mentioned about the playing fields.
“What do you think it’s going to be?” asked Trudy as they walked through the school. “Cameras? Props?”
Jack and Trudy walked out the back door of the school and stopped dead. They didn’t need to go any farther to see what was on the playing fields. The enormous giant from the red barn was standing close to a set of rugby goalposts. It was thirty feet tall and yet it looked small compared to what was nearby.
A giant animatronic dragon was slowly prowling across the fields. It stood on four feet and was the length of five school buses. It was covered in blackish-green scales and had golden spines sticking out of its back. It reared up on its two hind legs, and two enormous wings unfolded. Jack blinked and rubbed his eyes with his fists to check that he wasn’t seeing things. Strangely, rubbing his eyes didn’t seem to help much; they just made his eyes go blurry for a minute. Apparently, rubbing your eyes didn’t help you see better at all—another thing that cartoons had lied to Jack about.
The animatronic dragon let out a piercing shriek, its internal machinery made a loud clicking noise, and then the sky was sprayed with a long, thick, smoky cloud of fire. A second later the dragon collapsed back onto all four feet, sending a shockwave shuddering through the ground.
It turned its long elegant neck and looked at Jack and Trudy, its yellow eyes glittering. Despite the fact that they were over a hundred feet away, the effect was terrifying. Jack and Trudy backed inside the school and closed the door.
“We’re going to have to fight that at some stage, aren’t we?” asked Trudy.
“I really hope not,” said Jack, “because the best plan I can think of is trying to get trapped in its throat, choking it. And I’m not sure that works with animatronic creatures.”
“But should we really be that worried about the dragon? I mean, didn’t we beat the steam dinosaur?”
Jack thought for a minute. “Yes, but remember that we only beat that because it was made of a set of old bones and a potentially explosive school boiler. That thing out there looks a lot more sturdy. I think Merlin’s a lot more professional about this than the pirates ever were.”
“I’m going to suggest we leave school today by the front entrance.”
“I like your thinking on that.”
* * *
Jack and Trudy couldn’t help feeling dejected as they left school later. They were no closer to finding Trudy’s mother, David wouldn’t believe them that he was in danger, and they knew they were up against an incredibly powerful scientist with enormous mechanical machines at his command.
Jack got home and slumped at the table where his mother and father were sitting.
“Hard day?” Jack’s father asked.
“You’d better believe it,” said Jack.
“This will cheer you up,” said his mother as she set a plate down in front of him.
Jack looked at it suspiciously. “Is this more of Mr. M’s health food?”
At the prompting of his mustache, Jack’s father picked up the package and read from it. “It’s a new, even tastier recipe. With more vitamins and iron to keep your body healthy.”
Jack pushed the plate away from him. “I don’t think I can eat anything tonight. I’m really not feeling well.”
Jack’s mother came over and put a hand on his forehead. “Are you coming down with something? Early to bed for you tonight.”
Jack’s father nodded in agreement. “And I’ll give you a lift to school in the morning if you still aren’t feeling well. But only as a treat. I don’t want you getting used to being spoiled.”
In his room, Jack put a new pair of unshredded pajamas on. Then, in order to make sure he wouldn’t find himself walking out of his room in the middle of the night, he took the belt from around the middle of his bathrobe. He sat on the bed tying one end around his ankle and the other to the bed frame. He then slumped into the bed, hoping that he would be able to get a good night’s sleep for once.
* * *
MINISTRY OF S.U.I.T.S HANDBOOK
BIRDS AND THEIR ABILITY TO DELIVER MESSAGES
WHY PIGEONS LIKE STATUES SO MUCH
It is interesting to note that pigeons were used to deliver messages during the two world wars. This is why to this day they walk with their chests puffed out, because they still expect someone to pin a medal on them.
It is also this fact that explains why you will so often see pigeons sitting on statues. Walking around any European city, you will notice that most statues are of people who achieved something during one of the world wars. Pigeons recognize these people and go over and land on them in case they want a message delivered.70
The reason pigeons are no longer used to carry messages and packages is that although they are speedy and excellent at delivery, they struggle writing out little cards that say “We’re sorry we missed you; your package will not fit through your mail slot.”
Scientists have discovered that pigeons navigate their way using sensitive magnetic organs in their brains. This is an absolute miracle, but it does mean that if you try to send someone a present of a fridge magnet via pigeon post, it’s almost certainly going to get lost.
* * *
24
PUT ON YOUR DANCING SHOES
WEDNESDAY
Jack was woken in the middle of the night by falling on his face. It wasn’t a pleasant way to be woken, and Jack decided to try and avoid it in the future. Once more he had been sleepwalking, but fortunately the bathrobe belt had caused him to trip and fall before he left his bedroom.
Jack felt something trying to move his limbs, but by concentrating he was able to force them down. Whatever had controlled him the previous night was much, much weaker this time. Jack had definitely made the right decision about not eating any more of Merlin’s “health food”—clearly that must have been how he had been controlled the previous night.
After a few moments the tugging at his limbs seemed to cease entirely. Jack heard a revving outside the house. He untied the bathrobe belt, walked over to the window, and looke
d out of the curtains. The silver driverless car was sitting right outside his house. Its engine switched off and it sat still. Jack was pretty sure that it was waiting for him. He felt a cold shiver go down his spine.
The next morning Jack’s parents were shocked to come down to the kitchen and find their son waiting for them. “You must really be sick, if you’re getting up early,” Jack’s mother observed.
Jack’s father’s mustache was just about to make an observation when the microwave pinged.
“I’ve made us all breakfast.” Jack smiled as he picked up an oven mitt and took a plate of steaming hot sausage rolls71 out of the microwave.
Jack’s mother and father sat down at the kitchen table in shock. Jack put a sausage roll in front of each of them. “I just thought it would be nice for me to do something for you guys for a change.”
Of course, Jack’s goal had not been one of altruistic kindness, but rather he wanted to avoid the threat of having to eat any more of Merlin’s mind-controlling health food. If that involved him having to take the radical step of cooking, he was prepared to do that.
“Here—sauces,” Jack said as he jammed brown and red bottles into his parents’ hands.
His parents merrily chomped away on their sausage rolls, while Jack went to the front door and peered outside. The driverless silver car was still sitting there. Jack felt a little nervous as he wandered back to the kitchen. “Hey, Dad, can I still get that ride to school?”
His father had just finished the sausage roll. His father’s mustache was savoring the last of its tomato ketchup. “Certainly, Jack, but only today, mind you—getting the bus is good for you.” Jack thought of asking if his father had any empirical72 evidence that buses were good for you, but decided not to risk it in case that would have meant the withdrawal of the ride altogether.
As Jack’s father pulled out of their driveway, the silver car revved up and followed them at a safe distance. Jack’s father adjusted his mirror. “Hey, look, Jack—that must be one of those driverless cars you always hear about on the news. It’s amazing what they can do today, isn’t it?”