There's a Viking in My Bed and Other Stories

by Jeremy Strong

  Mr Ellis took her hands and squeezed them gently. ‘You go and look after your sister, Mrs Tibblethwaite. She needs you. Go to the hospital and make sure she's all right. Take as long as you wish.’

  Mrs Tibblethwaite nodded gratefully. ‘But what about the…?’

  ‘The hotel will be fine,’ added Mrs Ellis.

  ‘I mean Sigurd,’ whispered Mrs Tibblethwaite. ‘What about my husband? He's such a child!’

  ‘Leave him with us. He'll only be in the way if you take him to Scotland. He'll be fine with us,’ said Mrs Ellis, secretly crossing her fingers behind her back as she spoke.

  ‘Yes, we'll look after him,’ said Tim. ‘He can teach me sword fighting with Nosepicker.’

  ‘Hmmm, very useful that will be!’ muttered Mr Ellis.

  ‘Oh thank you, thank you. I was hoping you'd offer to look after him,’ said Mrs Tibblethwaite. ‘I'll go and pack straight away and catch the first train from Flotby,’ and with that she hurried upstairs.

  Mrs Ellis watched her go.

  ‘Siggy will be fine with us,’ she repeated. ‘Oh dear, why did I say that?’

  Sigurd was almost uncontrollable when he realised that his dearest Tibby was going way for a few days. He tugged at his beard and wailed o the sky. ‘Hear me Odin! Hear me Thor! Bring back Viking woman. I make you great sacrifice!’

  ‘She's only going for a few days, Siggy,’ Zoe pointed out. ‘You're such a fusspot. You can help look after the hotel instead.’

  Sigurd stopped. He straightened up and whipped out Nosepicker and thrust it into the air. Unfortunately it stuck in the ceiling but it was still a grand gesture. ‘I am Sigurd the Viking,’ he bellowed. ‘I swear by all the gods that I will defend the hotel until the great day when Viking woman returns!’

  It was a stirring speech, but quite meaningless, and when Sigurd yanked out Nosepicker from the ceiling and brought down half a ton of plaster, everyone wondered whether they really wanted him to defend the hotel anyway. Tim looked across at Zoe and rolled his eyes.

  ‘He's a complete nutter,’ he whispered to her.

  ‘Takes one to know one,’ Zoe replied as she disappeared out of the room in search of a bucket to put the plaster in. Meanwhile, Mr Ellis took Sigurd outside to show him the high hedge that ran round the edge of the garden.

  ‘It needs a good trim, Siggy.’

  ‘Good trim?’ Siggy repeated, a little bewildered.

  ‘Yes. Look, this is a hedge trimmer. It's electric.’ Mr Ellis switched it on. Sigurd leapt back drawing Nosepicker and waving it violently at Mr Ellis as if he expected there to be a major battle. Mr Ellis laughed and switched the trimmer off. ‘It's not going to attack you Siggy. Watch. This is how you use it.’

  Mr Ellis switched the trimmer back on and began to slice neatly through the hedge. Twigs and leaves fell on every side. Sigurd watched closely. He thought this was marvellous. Mr Ellis put the machine into his hands and helped Sigurd guide the trimmer over the hedge.

  ‘You see? It's easy with a hedge trimmer. Now, I want you to do the whole hedge, right the way round. Okay?’

  ‘Okey-dokey boss.’

  ‘I do wish you wouldn't say that,’ said Mr Ellis as he turned to walk back to the hotel. But just as he was about to step inside, he heard the roar of the hedge trimmer and felt a sudden uneasiness. ‘Do try and make a good job won't you, Siggy?’ he said desperately.

  ‘I make good job,’ muttered Sigurd, as the hedge trimmer vibrated in his hands. Mr Ellis went into the hotel. He couldn't spend all day worrying about Sigurd – he had some plastering work to do.

  For several moments Sigurd just stood there, marvelling at the wonderful machine that Mr Ellis had so carelessly placed in his raving Viking hands. A murderous glint came into Siggy's eyes and he looked wildly about the garden. The engine roared and Sigurd began to advance on the enemy.

  Back in the hotel, the first person Mr Ellis saw was Mr Thripp. The thin little Health Inspector was back, complete with his tin-can voice. ‘Good day, Mr Ellis,’ he whined. ‘I hope it's a good day for you?’

  Mr Ellis managed a weak smile. ‘Fine thank you, Mr Thripp. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?’

  ‘I have come about your “Viking”. Not that he is a real Viking of course. I think it would be going too far to claim that.’ Mr Thripp looked up sharply, his weasel eyes fixed on Mr Ellis.

  ‘That's really no concern of yours,’ replied Mr Ellis, trying to remain calm. ‘Anyway, what can I do for you?’

  ‘I have just come to make sure that this – “Viking” – is no longer a health hazard to your visitors, or I shall have to issue orders to close the hotel. I do hope he is no longer serving food?’

  ‘Of course not. He's working in the garden,’ replied Mr Ellis.

  Mr Thripp gave a sneaky smile. ‘You won't mind if I check on that will you? It's not that I don't believe you. It's just that…’

  ‘… you don't believe me,’ finished Mr Ellis. ‘Follow me, Mr Thripp, and you will see that Sigurd is quite harmless.’

  The two men walked out into the garden. They stopped. They stood still. There was no garden. From the far corner could still be heard the murderous whine of the hedge trimmer as Sigurd sliced through the last few flowers, bushes, shrubs, hedges – in fact anything that was more than a few centimetres tall.

  Mr Ellis could barely speak. ‘What have you done?’ he croaked. Sigurd gave a broad smile and switched off the hedge trimmer.

  ‘I cut hedge like you show me! Zzzipp! Zzzapp! This better than Nosepicker. When Sigurd next go to war he take Deathsnore.’

  ‘Deathsnore?’ repeated Mr Ellis in a trance.

  ‘I call new weapon Deathsnore. It make noise like man snoring and bring death to everything – Deathsnore.’

  Mr Ellis began to mutter to himself. ‘I've got a mad Viking in my garden who has just destroyed every bush and flower with a hedge trimmer called Deathsnore. What am I going to do?’ He was so overcome by the full-scale destruction of his garden that he didn't notice Sigurd's bulging eyes and purple face. The Viking had just seen Mr Thripp.

  ‘You kill my weeding!’ roared Sigurd. ‘Now I kill you!’ The hedge trimmer gnashed its teeth and Sigurd plunged after the Health Inspector. Mr Thripp gave a high scream and raced into the hotel, locking the door behind him.

  ‘I kill you!’ bellowed Sigurd. ‘You very little man. I make you littler. I cut you into pieces like salami!’

  It took Mr Ellis ten minutes to calm Sigurd and get Deathsnore away from him, and a further hour to calm Mr Thripp. The thin Health Inspector was shaking from head to foot.

  ‘We shall see about this, Mr Ellis. I have never been threatened before and you needn't think that you will get away with it. He was going to chop me up with a hedge trimmer. I'm going straight to the police. That maniac should be in jail, and so should you. This hotel is a disgrace. It's not an hotel at all, it's a madhouse. You should all be locked up. I'm going to the police now. This isn't the last you've heard from Ernest Thripp. I shall be back, mark my words, and then there'll be trouble…’

  The delirious inspector ran off down the hotel steps, shaking his fist and screaming at the top of his voice.

  Mr Ellis slumped into an armchair and buried his face in his hands. ‘If only this were just a bad dream,’ he said to himself.

  4

  Sigurd Goes Berserk

  Mr Thripp ran all the way to Flotby Police Station. ‘Help, help! There's a Viking on the loose and he wants to chop me up like salami!’ he screamed at the officer on the front desk.

  Constable Pritty fixed Mr Thripp with a calm stare, ‘I see, Sir. Would you like to take a deep breath and just tell me as calmly as you can what's happened?’

  Mr Thripp glanced fearfully over one shoulder at the open door. ‘I have just been to The Viking Hotel. There's a Viking there – at least there's a madman who says he's a real Viking and he tried to chop me up with Deathsnore.’

  ‘Deathsnore? Excuse me sir, but what i
s Deathsnore?’

  ‘A hedge trimmer.’

  ‘A hedge trimmer?’

  ‘Yes Officer, a hedge trimmer. For heaven's sake, open your ears and listen. You've got to do something about it.’

  ‘This sounds very serious indeed, Sir. Attempted murder with a hedge trimmer. Can you describe the criminal?’

  ‘Yes. He's revolting.’ Mr Thripp said bluntly.

  ‘Revolting,’ repeated Constable Pritty. ‘Do you think you could give me a few more details, Sir?’

  ‘Yes. He's revolting, disgusting and filthy!’ said Mr Thripp completely missing the point.

  ‘No, no, Mr Thripp – can you describe what he looks like?’ Quickly Mr Thripp described Sigurd more clearly. Constable Pritty was rapidly drawing on to a big sheet of paper as Mr Thripp spoke, and as soon as the Health Inspector had finished, Constable Pritty triumphantly held up his sketch.

  ‘There! What about that? I don't think we shall have much trouble finding this lad. Of course it is quite impossible that he's a real Viking, so he's breaking the Trade Descriptions Act as well.’

  Mr Thripp gave a sneaky smile. ‘And he's a foreigner!’

  ‘Foreign eh? We'd better check his passport then. He may be an illegal immigrant. Let's see, what have we got so far – attempted murder, contravening the Trades Description Act and being an illegal immigrant.’ The constable licked the end of his pencil. ‘Not to mention carrying an offensive weapon, namely one hedge trimmer,’ he said, looking up triumphantly.

  ‘I think your Viking chappie could be spending a long time in jail. Come on, let's go and arrest him.’

  It was hardly a surprise to Mrs Ellis when she answered the knock on the hotel door to find Mr Thripp and a policeman standing there. The policeman pushed himself forward and adjusted his helmet. ‘I'm Pritty, Madam,’ he explained.

  Mrs Ellis examined the policeman's young face carefully. ‘Yes, I suppose you are pretty in a way – for a policeman that is.’ The constable turned extremely red.

  ‘That is not quite what I meant, Madam.’

  ‘No, I don't suppose it was. Would you like to start again?’

  ‘I am Police Constable Pritty and I am afraid that I have come about a very serious matter. I have come to arrest a Viking by the name of Sigurd.’

  Mrs Ellis had never thought it would get quite as bad as this. She could tell from the sickening smile on Mr Thripp's face that there was big trouble in store for Sigurd, and she had no idea how to rescue him from this new situation.

  ‘I'11 fetch him for you,’ she said quietly, and hurried off to find her husband.

  Mr Ellis gritted his teeth at the news. ‘Sigurd's in the garden planting some new bushes. I'll bring him to the hall.’

  A few moments later Mr Ellis arrived with Siggy. His hands were covered in mud from the garden, where he had been digging. Mrs Ellis introduced everyone, hoping that Sigurd would make a good impression on the policeman. Siggy knew all about English good manners. He strode forward with a big grin on his innocent face and shook Constable Pritty warmly by the hand.

  Unfortunately he left most of the hotel garden smeared across the constable's hand. The policeman gamely tried to wipe it off, only to put several large muddy streaks across the front of his uniform. ‘Damaging a police officer's uniform – that's a very serious charge indeed,’ muttered Constable Pritty, fumbling for his notebook.

  Mr Ellis asked if there was a problem. Why did they need to arrest Sigurd? Constable Pritty immediately launched into a long description of all the charges, with Mr Thripp grinning and hopping excitedly from one foot to another and adding bits here and there. Finally Constable Pritty asked to see Sigurd's passport.

  ‘Pass-the-pot?’ repeated Siggy. Glancing round the hotel entrance he saw a rose bush standing in a big tub. Of course! That must be it! Sigurd seized the flowertub with both hands, picked it up and thrust it into Constable Pritty's chest. ‘Pass-the-pot!’ Siggy repeated excitedly, thinking this must be some new party game.

  ‘What are you doing? Are you trying to be funny?’ cried Constable Pritty. Sigurd nodded and grinned even more.

  ‘I funny. You funny. Funny man in funny blue hat!’

  Constable Pritty thrust out his chin and snapped at his helmet strap. ‘I am not funny at all, and neither is my hat,’ he growled.

  Mr Ellis hastily came to Sigurd's aid. ‘Sigurd doesn't have a passport, Officer. You see, it's not that he comes from another country, but that he comes from another century – the tenth century, and they didn't have passports then.’

  ‘Oh yes? And my name is Darth Vader!’

  ‘I thought he was taller,’ murmured Mrs Ellis.

  ‘This is not a laughing matter, Madam. This Viking will have to come down to the police station with me for questioning.’

  Mr Ellis turned to Sigurd and tried to explain the situation to him, but Siggy would have none of it. ‘I no go with Mr Blue-hat.’

  ‘Insulting a police officer,’ muttered Constable Pritty reaching for his notebook again. ‘I'm afraid that you have no choice, Sir. Just come with me please and don't make things worse for yourself.’

  It was at this point that Constable Pritty made a bad mistake. He tried to pull Sigurd along by the arm. In an instant Sigurd had leaped backwards, pulling Nosepicker from his scabbard as he did so.

  ‘Hah!’ yelled Sigurd. ‘Death to my enemies and to the enemies of my enemies and the enemies of the enemies of enemies – I think. By Thor, I make you all into barbecue meat!’

  It was no use trying to calm the Viking down now. His blood was up. He stood there waving Nosepicker over his head so violently that he cut down three hanging baskets. Constable Pritty and Mr Thripp stared in horror at the mad Viking warrior and slowly began to back down the path.

  Constable Pritty was secretly delighted at all this. Flotby was such a boring town normally and now he had a full scale incident on his hands.

  ‘I think reinforcements are called for,’ he hissed to Mr Thripp. ‘Come on, back to the station – fast!’ The two turned tail and ran, leaving Sigurd standing on the hotel steps waving Nosepicker. Mr and Mrs Ellis looked desperately at each other.

  By this time Tim and Zoe had come outside to see what all the fuss was about. When they heard that Sigurd was about to be arrested and taken away they were horrified.

  ‘Do something, Daddy!’ cried Tim.

  ‘I can't. I don't know what to do,’ wailed Mr Ellis.

  ‘But he hasn't done anything wrong!’ cried Zoe.

  ‘No? What about chasing Mr Thripp with a hedge trimmer, not to mention trying to skewer a policeman with Nosepicker.’

  ‘But that was self-defence,’ argued Zoe.

  ‘Smell the fence!’ shouted Sigurd with a big grin.

  ‘Not smell the fence – self-defence,’ corrected Zoe. Sigurd nodded violently.

  ‘Smell the fence!’

  Mr Ellis buried his face in his hands. He could hear the wail of fast-approaching police cars. Tim stared out from the hotel steps. ‘Quick!’ he shouted. ‘You've got to do a runner, Sigurd. They're after you.’

  But Sigurd stood his ground. ‘I no go. I no coward. If Blue-hat wants Sigurd he come and take him.’ Sigurd slowly drew Nosepicker and strode to the front of the steps as six police cars burst on to the forecourt. Doors sprung open and twenty police officers leaped from the cars. Constable Pritty stood near the back with a megaphone.

  ‘Give yourself up!’ he shouted. ‘There is no escape. You are outnumbered. It's twenty against one. Give yourself up!’

  Sigurd's answer to this was quite extraordinary and took everyone by surprise. He started taking off all his clothes. He pulled off his boots. He pulled off his jacket. Then he removed his shirt and started on his leggings.

  ‘What's he doing?’ whispered Mrs Ellis.

  ‘Taking all his clothes off,’ said Mr Ellis, not quite believing what he was seeing. Zoe clutched at her father's arm.

  ‘Daddy I know what he's doing! He's going berserk!
’

  ‘Berserk?’ repeated Mr Ellis. ‘He's stark raving bonkers if you ask me!’

  ‘No, no! That's where the word berserk comes from. A “berserk” was a Viking warrior. When faced with terrible odds in a battle they took off all their clothes and then charged into the fight!’

  ‘What an extraordinary thing to do, and what peculiar things you learn at school,’ said Mr Ellis.

  By this time Sigurd was sitting on the stone floor, pulling at his leggings and muttering to himself. ‘I berserk warrior. I cover garden with blood of Mr Blue-hats!’

  Seizing his chance, Constable Pritty shouted ‘Charge!’ and a line of twenty police officers pounded towards the steps of the hotel, while Sigurd desperately tried to make up his mind. Was he going to pull his leggings off, or pull them back on again?

  5

  Sigurd Makes His Escape

  Yelling furiously because it made them all feel a lot braver, the policemen stormed the hotel steps. Sigurd struggled to his feet and pulled up his trousers. He waved Nosepicker violently. The police paused for a moment and watched the bare-chested Viking warily. Sigurd glared at each and every one with a murderous glint. Then suddenly he shouted ‘Boo!’, turned tail and vanished into the hotel.

  ‘Charge!’ squeaked Constable Pritty once more, and the police plunged after Sigurd, only to get completely jammed in the doorway. There was an awful lot of huffing and puffing and grunting and grumbling as they sorted out the pile-up. Then they were up and stumbling after the laughing Viking.

  Sigurd was having a wonderful time. He raced up one staircase and reappeared at the top of a quite different set of stairs. He slid down the banisters, rushed through the kitchen, back into the hotel, up the stairs again, and in and out of the bedrooms causing astonished shouts from the guests. Then he went downstairs again, through the lounge, into the garden, up the fire escape… and all the time the number of people chasing him grew and grew, as guests came out of their rooms and joined in.