Felix and the Red Rats

by James Norcliffe

  Beside the crystal vase was the ceremonial hammer which would be used to smash the vase. It lay there ominously still, heavy, blunt and remorseless; for once the crystal was shattered, there could be no going back, no second chance.

  Earlier, once it had been ensured that all preparations had been made, the princess, Medulla and the children had sought an audience with the regent.

  As the party entered his private sitting room, Count Cava quickly assumed a warm smile of welcome. But not quite quickly enough, for Felix, observing him closely, saw how his initial reaction was venomous. There was a flicker of hatred in his eyes, and a quick lick of his lips suggested fear. This was gone in a flash. An instant later all was charm, all was friendliness.

  ‘Pia, my dear … This is so kind of you to visit me and so good to see you, and with Medulla, too. How charming. And you’ve brought with you these very clever children, these strangers … Now, let me guess, does this suggest that you think you may have—’

  ‘—uncovered the answer to the Succession Riddle, Uncle?’ Pia completed for him. ‘It does.’

  ‘Good, good,’ the regent said, rubbing his hands together in apparent satisfaction. ‘It was my fervent wish, as these children will have no doubt told you, that somehow Fortuna had contrived their coming to Axillaris with the answer to that frustrating mystery.’

  ‘It may have been so,’ said Princess Pia. ‘Whatever did bring them here is a mystery. But they did come with considerable resource, for I believe they have provided me with the answer.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ breathed the regent. His gaze turned to Bella and Felix. ‘You should have told me,’ he murmured, ‘of your achievement earlier. We would have known what to do …’

  Bella felt a slight shiver run up her spine as she realised just what the regent might have had in mind.

  ‘Well, Pia, you have the answer written down no doubt? We will convene the Council of Nobles together in a day or so and—’

  ‘The Council of Nobles has already been summoned, Uncle,’ said Pia. ‘They wait for us even as we speak.’

  The regent looked at her sharply. ‘Indeed? That is somewhat hasty, is it not? You must be very confident. You do know the consequences if you are wrong?’

  The princess nodded. ‘Of course.’

  ‘And you do have your answer written down?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘May I see it, please?’

  ‘If you don’t mind, Uncle, I’d prefer to wait until we’re in the Council Chamber.’

  For the first time apart from that split second at the beginning of their interview, the regent looked slightly rattled. Perhaps it was Princess Pia’s confidence, perhaps it was her air of command and control of the situation, or perhaps it was because she was withholding the answer to the riddle.

  ‘But,’ the count protested, ‘my dear Pia, were you to show it to me, and if you were wrong, I could let you know in advance whether you were making a terrible mistake.’

  And pigs might fly, thought Felix, and then grinned.

  ‘Uncle,’ Pia rebuked him, ‘you know that your doing so would break all the protocols and rules!’

  ‘Not in so many words,’ said the regent slyly, ‘not in so many words, but I could by dint of my tone of voice, or my raised eyebrows, or the shaking of my head and pursing of my lips, you know …’

  ‘Yes,’ said Princess Pia, ‘I do know, but it won’t be necessary, for you are about to find out anyway.’

  And then, as if in confirmation, there was a nervous tap at the door.

  ‘Come in!’ rasped the regent. Felix could sense the frustration and agitation in his voice.

  It was a twerp. He stood there a little unsurely, his eyes shifting from the slender beauty of Princess Pia to the grim darkness of the regent.

  ‘My lord,’ he said nervously, ‘the Council of Nobles has now assembled and awaits you in the Council Chamber.’

  Princess Pia gave Medulla a tight little smile and then turned to the regent.

  ‘Well, Uncle,’ she said, ‘shall we go?’

  When the little party entered the chamber, the assembly stood, and then, after the aristocrats had seated themselves again, the buzz settled into an expectant silence and the aristocrats leant forward eagerly.

  The regent, all in black save for his scarlet tunic, led the way, so preoccupied he did not acknowledge the council at all. Instead he strode to the black throne and seated himself there, faintly scowling.

  Princess Pia followed, and stood beside the table. Medulla positioned himself some way behind her, and Felix, Bella and Myrtle, already attracting curious glances, stood behind Medulla.

  The regent then rose.

  ‘Members of the Council,’ he began, ‘Princess Pia, and,’ his gaze swept towards the children, and was so hostile Bella flinched, ‘visitors from afar … This assembly has been convened, as tradition demands and as you have no doubt surmised, because the princess claims, with the help of these visitors, to have solved the Succession Riddle …’

  He makes it sound as though she’s somehow cheated by using our help, thought Felix.

  There was a sigh of anticipation from the aristocrats, and once again their eyes turned to the children.

  ‘Without further ado, then,’ said the regent, ‘we shall proceed to the ceremony.’

  The eyes swivelled back to the regent.

  ‘May I see your answer,’ demanded the regent.

  The princess walked to the throne and handed the regent a sheet of paper. He unfolded it ostentatiously and glanced at the answer written there.

  For a moment he studied it carefully.

  Bella tried to read the regent even more intensely than the regent was studying the answer.

  At once, Bella gripped Felix’s arm.

  Something was wrong.

  The regent’s very first reaction, so fleeting it was all but unnoticeable, was not the disappointment or resignation Bella would have expected. Instead there was a faint smile, then a momentary relaxation, of something more like relief, of satisfaction. Immediately, though, that giveaway smile had vanished and was replaced by emotionless impassivity.

  The regent stood.

  He announced in a firm, neutral voice, ‘The princess’s answer to the riddle “What three creatures are bound by Pia?” is as follows: the three creatures bound by Pia are ant, imp and ape!’

  The Council of Nobles was stirred into excitement again and there was another buzz of comment.

  Bella began to panic. They’d goofed. The answer was wrong. The regent was too smug, too relaxed. If their answer had been right he should have been sagging, but he was standing proud, sure of himself …

  ‘Medulla!’ she hissed.

  The young man turned. When he saw Bella’s desperate expression, his smile turned to alarm.

  ‘Medulla! We must have made a mistake. That answer must be wrong!’

  Medulla hurried to her side. ‘Look at the regent,’ Bella said. ‘Look at him and tell me whether you don’t think he knows the answer is wrong, that when the crystal vase is smashed the crown will be his forever!’

  Even as they whispered together, the regent was hurrying things along.

  ‘I think it would be appropriate in the circumstances that Secretary Medulla, who has been such a loyal champion of the princess …’

  Meaning traitor to me, thought Felix. What a hypocrite!

  Felix was aware of Bella’s panic and Medulla’s consternation, but was utterly at a loss as to what they could do. The regent would force the issue. He would not let them withdraw. And even if they did withdraw, Count Cava would hardly be ready to forgive and forget what he would see as Medulla’s treachery and their own part in the fiasco.

  ‘… should take up the hammer, and smash the crystal vase. Medulla, would you take up the hammer?’

  There was a smattering of applause and Medulla, now with an agonised look on his face, slowly made his way to the table, and picked up the hammer. He felt the heft of it for a
few seconds, as if preparing himself for the blow.

  Princess Pia turned to look at him fondly, and then was startled to see his despair. ‘Medulla?’

  Meanwhile, Bella’s mind had been racing. One of the words is wrong! It must be imp. I was right to be suspicious: an imp is not a real creature. And anyway why would there be two creatures in one magic square? We were too hasty. There must be another magic square with another creature.

  Perhaps nervous, perhaps stalling for time, Medulla dropped the hammer.

  The regent looked irritated. ‘Get on with it, man!’ he barked.

  He’s so keen to see this thing done, thought Felix. He glanced at Bella. Her nose was screwed up in concentration, her fists, clenched, were held out in front of her, her eyes were shut as she shuffled through her mind any possible magic square with the head word Pia.

  None seemed to make sense. Only one worked out. Could it be?

  P I A

  I T S

  A S P

  Medulla had by now run out of stalling options. He lifted the heavy, blunt-nosed hammer and swung it slowly back.

  ‘Medulla, stop!’ Bella shouted.

  The look of assurance and satisfaction on the regent’s face had become undeniable. Now, at this sudden interruption, his expression changed to anger, anger that he might yet be forestalled.

  He rose and pointed to Bella dramatically.

  ‘Seize her!’ he shouted. ‘Take her away!’ And then turning back to Medulla, he cried: ‘Smash it! Smash the vase! You have made your challenge, now see it through!’

  Medulla lurched backward, lowering the hammer, and spun around to see that two twerp guards had rushed to Bella. They grabbed her by the arms and were already attempting to drag her backwards out of the chamber. Felix had rushed to Bella’s aid, and, frantically, was trying to pull Bella and the guards back again.

  The guards had neither the wit nor the capacity to silence Bella, however. ‘Medulla!’ she cried desperately. ‘Imp is wrong. You can’t smash the vase!’

  ‘But we have made the challenge—’

  ‘Medulla, is asp a creature?’

  Medulla froze and then laughed with relief. ‘Asp? Oh, yes,’ he cried, ‘an asp is certainly a creature, and a most appropriate one!’ He pointed at the regent. ‘An asp is a kind of snake, a viper, a particularly vicious viper!’

  He dropped the hammer on the floor and rushed to Princess Pia who had been lost in a turmoil of indecision. ‘Bella is right,’ he told her. ‘The answer should be ant, ape and asp!’

  The regent sat down again, his face dark with fury. Bella tried again to shake herself free of the manhandling twerps. ‘Let me go!’ she yelled. Her anger was so intense, they quailed and released her. Once free, she ran to the princess and Medulla.

  ‘Imp is wrong,’ she said. ‘We didn’t think it through. The third creature must be asp. You have to change the answer!’

  The princess nodded, and turned to the regent. ‘We will change our answer,’ she said. ‘The answer should be: the three creatures bound by Pia are ant, ape and asp!’

  Glaring at him, she’d laid especial emphasis on asp.

  Count Cava rose again from the throne, looking about the chamber wildly, as if seeking support. ‘Too late!’ he cried. ‘You cannot change now! Your answer was ant, ape and imp.’

  At that point he leapt from the rostrum and raced for the table. Clearly he was hoping to grab the hammer and smash the vase himself.

  Just in time Medulla understood his intention and kicked the hammer aside. Then he leapt on to the back of the count and wrestled him to the floor. Deftly he extricated from the count’s grip the paper on which Princess Pia had written her original answer and passed it back over his shoulder to her.

  Taking the biro Bella offered her, the princess spread the paper on the table, scored out imp and substituted asp.

  ‘But you’re too late! You’re too late!’ cried the regent desperately, his voice muffled by the headlock in which Medulla had him gripped.

  These astonishing proceedings had been witnessed by the assembled Council of Nobles with some consternation. But, quietly at first, and then increasingly loudly, they began to chant rhythmically ant ape asp, ant ape asp, ant ape asp!

  Within seconds the chant became deafening, and was made even more rhythmic by the accompanying clapping and stamping of feet in perfect time with the repeated mantra ant ape asp, ant ape asp, ant ape asp!

  And then an elderly lord, with an air of unimpeachable authority rose to his feet and lifted a hand into the air. The chanting eventually died down and the old lord spoke.

  ‘Count Cava,’ he said, ‘you have been regent of this land many years, and we have respected your rule. However, this display of yours today has lost you our respect. You have clearly attempted to subvert Princess Pia’s rightful claim. You know full well, as do we all, that the answer to the Succession Riddle can only be revealed when the vase is broken. The princess is entitled to change her mind a dozen times before that. It is her final answer that must be respected, the answer she proposes just before the vase is smashed. Before the vase is smashed she can change her mind, as I have said, a dozen times! It is only after the vase is smashed that she cannot alter her answer.’

  The regent had nothing to say to this except to glare furiously at the old man.

  His fury, however, seemed not to bother the old lord who barely glanced at the wriggling count, but turned to the princess and asked respectfully, ‘So your answer remains ant, ape and asp?’

  The princess smiled, and nodded.

  ‘Well, then. I think we’ve waited long enough. Let the vase be shattered.’

  Princess Pia looked to Medulla, but he was still busily engaged with the struggling count. It was a small dilemma. Bella, seeing her uncertainty, picked up the hammer and handed it to the princess.

  ‘I think it’s your task, really,’ she whispered.

  The princess smiled. ‘Excellent idea!’

  Then she turned to the table, brought back the hammer, and swung it strongly and directly at the vase.

  There was the sound of shattering glass and the shimmering teardrop smashed into a thousand pieces. Instinctively, everybody in the chamber had covered their eyes. Now as they took their arms away from their faces, the table was glistening with fragments surrounding a silver crown and a roll of parchment.

  The elderly lord stepped gingerly across the floor and took up the roll and unwound it. Holding it up before his eyes, he then read out in a surprisingly ringing voice, ‘The answer to the question “What three creatures are bound by Pia?” is’ — he paused for effect, and turned to smile at Princess Pia — ‘… ant … ape … and asp!’

  The Council of Nobles stood as one and applauded loudly and long. Princess Pia waved to them, Medulla extricated himself from the regent, and Bella, Felix and Myrtle jumped up and down, grinning and laughing.

  As the applause and shouting died down, the old lord laid the parchment back down on the table and then reached for the crown. He lifted it high in the air before placing it gently on Princess Pia’s head. Then, gesturing towards the throne he led her to it as a father leads a bride down the aisle.

  Princess Pia mounted the rostrum and settled herself on the black throne. She gazed about the room, smiling radiantly.

  Of all the people in the chamber, only Count Cava was neither laughing nor clapping. He had clambered to his feet, and now stood indecisively like a rat in a corner, torn between a desire to make a crazy dash for it and the more sensible option of surrender.

  Visibly slumping, realising there was no future in flight, he looked up and readjusted his expression. Fixing an oily smile on his face, he approached the throne, crunching over the shattered shards of crystal littering the floor.

  He bowed before Princess Pia and said, ‘Your highness, I fear I may have given you the wrong impression of my position. Let me assure you that there is nobody in this room more delighted than I am that this cursed riddle has been solve
d and that you are now securely restored to your rightful throne.’

  ‘Uncle … ?’ Princess Pia said, unable to conceal her disbelief.

  ‘I believe that in the time I held the throne in trust for you, as it were, my actions have been honourable, my conduct impeccable and my instincts always loyal.’

  Pia looked at him calmly. ‘Uncle, have you already forgotten that one of your first actions as regent was to exile me to that mountain fastness, to exile me there as a virtual prisoner?’

  ‘But, my dear,’ protested Count Cava, ‘you cannot imagine that that was out of malice, or that it was out of anything other than a desire to protect you in anticipation of a glorious day such as this?’

  ‘To be honest, Uncle,’ said Princess Pia, ‘I can imagine it was out of malice, actually; and nothing you have said or done in the last ten years has persuaded me otherwise.’

  The count feigned a look of utter bewilderment and shook his head. ‘In that case, I am truly sorry,’ he said. ‘Somehow for ten years we have been completely at cross purposes.’

  ‘Apparently we have,’ said Princess Pia.

  ‘The confusion,’ continued the count easily, ‘is undoubtedly entirely my fault, and I do hope you will accept my full and unconditional apology?’

  Princess Pia inclined her head in assent.

  ‘And may I express my determination to serve you in future in any capacity, nay any humble capacity, you may see fit to employ me in.’

  ‘Humble capacity, Uncle?’

  ‘Humble capacity, your highness.’

  Princess Pia glanced at Medulla who had moved up to stand behind Count Cava in case he might prove yet a danger to the princess. She gave Medulla a warm smile, and then turned back to the count.

  ‘In that case, Uncle, I’m sure you’ll be very happy to learn that I will overlook your past indignities towards your brother’s daughter and hereby appoint you Lord …’

  Count Cava sagged with relief.

  ‘… of the Stables,’ continued the princess. ‘You will be from henceforth in complete charge of the—’