by C. J. Busby
Mrs Mudfoot finished chopping the carrots and turned towards the cupboard. Max froze.
“Right then. Nasty herbs now, fresh from the garden. At least there’ll be some nice bugs on ’em to spice it up, eh?” She turned heavily and stomped off towards the door, carrying the basket. Max nearly did a triple somersault on the spot. Brilliant! he thought. She’s going to get herbs from the garden! I’ll be alone in the kitchen!
He hopped onto a nearby stool and carefully measured the leap to the top of the spice cupboard. It seemed miles away – but then he was a frog. He flexed his powerful back legs and jumped.
He hit the edge of the cupboard with a thump! that knocked the wind out of him, grabbed the top with his front legs, and scrabbled furiously with his back feet. After what seemed like a week of hanging dangerously on the edge, Max managed to haul himself up over the top. Phew! He looked down over the edge at the drawers. There it was – ‘Peppercorns’ – with a shiny brass handle to pull the drawer out.
Max sat back on his haunches and pondered. Being a frog rather than a boy, and being on the top of the cupboard rather than in front of it, made opening the drawer just a bit trickier. At last, he decided that the best way would be to lie on his stomach and push it open with his back legs.
Max stretched out flat and hooked his back feet into the brass handle of the drawer. Then he took a deep breath and pushed. The drawer went flying open, and he slid helplessly after it, across the shiny surface of the cupboard, until he was just clinging on to the edge with all his strength.
Just then he heard the door open and Mrs Mudfoot come into the room. Max looked up – his front feet slipped – and he plunged face first into the darkness of the peppercorn drawer.
Dragon to the Rescue
Adolphus the pet dragon was sniffing around the castle entrance looking for woodlice quite unaware of the danger Max and Olivia were in. There were usually woodlice to be found crawling about behind the big wooden door, in the damp, dark of the hallway, and Adolphus found them fascinating. When he got bored with watching them scurrying around, he found them pretty tasty too.
Adolphus twisted his scaly, blue-green body right round into the darkest corner and waved his forked tail happily as he spotted several woodlice beetling across the corridor. Just as he was about to breathe a little fire to encourage them to run around more, he heard a peculiar noise and looked up.
There was something small and red at the other end of the corridor. Actually, there were two small things, one red and one purple – and they smelled very strongly of pondweed. Adolphus took flight and glided down the hall to investigate.
He landed in a tangled heap of wings and legs in front of two strangely coloured frogs who looked up at him in horror. Adolphus sniffed the red one. Maybe it would taste nice? But before he could open his mouth, the other frog shouted at him.
“Adolphus! Stop it this minute! Bad dragon! You are not to eat that frog!”
Adolphus stopped. He felt a bit confused. The voice was coming from the purple frog – but it sounded like the voice of his mistress, Olivia Pendragon. He looked down at it.
“Um, please? Are you Olivia?”
“Yes, yes, I am!” said the purple frog. Olivia was incredibly relieved. She’d thought Ferocious was dragon-dinner for sure – but it seemed Adolphus could understand frogs and had even recognised her. This was nothing short of miraculous because Adolphus was not the brainiest of young dragons and generally ate first and asked questions later.
“Adolphus,” she said. “We’ve been turned into frogs by one of Max’s stupid spells. And now he’s gone to get peppercorns from the kitchen and he’s been gone ages and we’re afraid Mrs Mudfoot’s put him in the soup.”
“She’s almost definitely put him in the soup,” added Ferocious. “Probably us next if we carry on standing here.”
“Oh no! Oh dear! Max in the soup! What can I do to help?” said Adolphus anxiously, flapping his wings and hopping from foot to foot.
“Try not to squash us, for a start,” pointed out Ferocious, jumping smartly out of the way of Adolphus’s claws.
“We’re on our way to the kitchen,” said Olivia. “Max is in there somewhere and he probably needs rescuing. Come on!”
The three of them set off across the corridor and crept down the passageway to the kitchen. At the door, they stopped and peered carefully round. Mrs Mudfoot was stirring the large cauldron on the stove and gradually adding handfuls of something suspiciously grey and smelly. Olivia looked around the room carefully, then turned to the others.
“There’s an open drawer at the top of the spice cupboard. I bet it’s the pepper drawer. Max must have got up there and opened it. But I can’t see him anywhere.”
Ferocious hopped across to the cupboard and looked up at the drawer. Then he looked around on the floor and spotted a stray hazelnut that had rolled under a nearby stool. He picked it up, measured the distance carefully, and chucked the nut up at the drawer. It hit the front with a sharp thud.
They froze, but Mrs Mudfoot didn’t appear to have heard. A few minutes later, they saw the tips of two orange feet appear over the edge of the drawer and a voice floated down to them.
“Olivia! Ferocious! I’m stuck! It’s too deep to clamber out and I’ve tried jumping out but there’s not enough space – I just keep banging my head on the top. Do something, quick – before Mrs Mudfoot finds me and puts me in a pie!”
Olivia and the others retreated behind the door to consider the situation.
“This is an emergency,” said Olivia. “We’ve got to get him out before she finds him.”
“And we’ve got to get the peppercorns or we’re frogs forever,” added Ferocious. “In fact, I’d say that was the first priority, myself, much as I love dear old Max.”
“You’ll have to do it, Adolphus,” said Olivia decisively. “You need to fly up to the drawer, get Max in your claws and fly him back down to the cauldron in the cellar.”
“Peppercorns,” corrected Ferocious. “Get peppercorns in your claws. Max too, if you can, but no good having Max back unless we’ve got the all-important spell ingredients.”
“Both of them,” said Olivia. “Peppercorns and Max – to the cellar for the spell. Got that, Adolphus?”
“Right. Yes. Okay,” said Adolphus eagerly. “Fly up to the drawer, eat the peppercorns and then put Max in the cauldron.”
“No!” said Olivia. “Concentrate, Adolphus! Max from the drawer to the cellar and the peppercorns from the drawer to the cauldron.”
“Oh, right!” said Adolphus apologetically. “So, it’s Max to go into the peppercorns and the drawer to go to the cellar.”
“Adolphus!” groaned Olivia. “Max – and – the – peppercorns – to – the – cellar!”
“This is going to be a disaster,” said Ferocious, covering his face with his webbed feet.
***
Adolphus skittered round the kitchen door, and looked quickly round the room to see where Mrs Mudfoot was. She seemed to be busy stirring something suspiciously brown and sticky into the soup. Adolphus flew up to the top of the cupboard with a few wingbeats and peered down into the peppercorn drawer. There was a bright orange frog sitting at the bottom, along with several packets of pepper.
Adolphus considered the situation. Pepper – he needed pepper, that’s what Olivia had said. And there was something about Max. But there was no Max in the drawer – just a strange orange frog. Adolphus scratched behind his ear and pondered. Perhaps Max wanted Adolphus to bring him the pepper? That must be it. But where was Max? Oh, yes! He remembered now! Max was in the cellar.
Adolphus picked up a packet of pepper in one claw, then considered the frog. You never know, it might be tasty. But he had to take the pepper to Max. Perhaps he could bring the frog along too and eat it later? Carefully he picked up the frog in his mouth, ignoring its croaks, and prepared to fly out of the kitchen.
But Mrs Mudfoot had finished with the soup and was heading over to get her mor
ning snack of pickled snail’s-foot fancy from the spice cupboard.
“Oh no!” gasped Olivia from the doorway. “I can’t look!”
Ferocious lifted one webbed foot from in front of his face. “We’re doomed,” he said. “Doomed.”
Mrs Mudfoot took one look at Adolphus perched on top of the cupboard and before you could say ‘snail’s-foot fancy’ she had him by the scruff of the neck with her meaty hands.
“Got you, you pestiferous little runty worm’s spawn,” she growled. “In my kitchen! Stealing my peppercorns! And what’s that you’ve got in your good-for-nothing mouth?”
Eeek, thought Adolphus. Caught by the terrible Mudfoot. He was never going to get those peppercorns to Max now. Best distract her with the frog.
Adolphus shook his head to and fro, waving the frog around in front of Mrs Mudfoot’s face. The frog squealed and wriggled its back legs desperately.
“You foul beast!” shouted Mrs Mudfoot, and squeezed harder. Adolphus spat the frog out onto the floor, where it lay twitching feebly, and breathed fire at the cook, who let go of him, cursing horribly. While she frantically blew on her scorched fingers, he flew across and out of the kitchen in a flash of blue-green scales.
Mrs Mudfoot bent down over the twitching orange frog.
“Well, well, my beauty. What did the nasty horrible dragon do to you, then?”
Max opened one eye. The huge red face of the cook was bearing down on him, glistening with sweat, her many chins wobbling as she spoke. She scooped him up in her large hands and lifted him even closer. Max could see the long black hairs coming out of each of her huge warts. He shuddered.
“What a sweetie-pie you are, then,” crooned the cook. “What a little darling froggy. Did the horrid dragon hurt you? Let Mummy give you a big kiss better, how about that?”
Max opened his frog’s eyes wide in horror. What?! She was going to kiss him?! Mrs Mudfoot?!
“No, no, please, no” he whimpered, but there was no way out of it. The cook’s jowly chins were wobbling towards him, her warts bobbing up and down, her lips puckered…
“Aaaaarrrggghhh!!” shrieked Max.
“Aaaaarrrggghhh!!” shrieked Mrs Mudfoot.
Max suddenly found himself on the floor in a sprawl of limbs and Mrs Mudfoot had her hands up in the air and was backing away towards the table. The moment that her lips had touched the slimy orange frog, it had exploded in a shower of sparks and in its place was…
That dratted boy, Max Pendragon! Mrs Mudfoot gritted her teeth and stopped backing away. In one smooth movement, she whipped a large meat cleaver off the table and advanced.
Max scrambled to his feet and ran for his life. As he dashed through the open door, it slammed shut behind him and the bolt was rammed home. He turned to see Adolphus with his shoulder against the door and two frogs pushing on the bolt.
“Quick!” said the purple one. “Pick us up and make for the cellar!”
Max grabbed the frogs and pelted down the corridor. He flailed round the corner and tumbled down the cellar steps, turning back to slam the door behind them. They could hear footsteps following them down, Mrs Mudfoot’s large, heavy feet slapping on the stone floor. Max fumbled in his belt pouch frantically – ah! he had it! He pulled out the large iron key and locked the heavy cellar door. He slid down the last few steps and collapsed onto a pile of tapestries lying at the bottom. Mrs Mudfoot gave the cellar door a few token smacks with her fist, but it was six inches thick and strengthened with iron bands. She knew when she was defeated. Max heard her heavy tread going back up the steps, and only then did he dare to take breath.
“Well,” said Ferocious, after they had recovered slightly. “That was a narrow escape. But at least now we know how to reverse the spell. Much as it pains me to say it, I think a bit of kissing is called for, Max.”
“Excuse me,” said Max, still shuddering from the memory of being kissed by Mrs Mudfoot. “I think I might need a bit of recovery time, a large bribe and a large amount of begging before I can even think about kissing two slimy frogs.”
“Hey, Max!” said Olivia. “You can still understand us!”
“So I can,” said Max, interested. “It must be an after-effect of having been turned into an animal. I wonder. However – back to the subject of bribery…”
Ferocious hopped onto Max’s shoulder and hissed into his ear.
“Max! Kiss me back into being a rat right now or I will stick my long slimy frog’s tongue deep into your ear and poke your brains out through your nostrils.”
“Mmm, well – when you put it like that,” said Max hurriedly, and kissed Ferocious on the nose.
Whoosh!
In a shower of sparks, he was a long-tailed black rat once more, sitting on Max’s shoulder and calmly cleaning his whiskers.
“Thanks,” he said. “Much obliged, I’m sure.”
“Wow!” said Adolphus. “That was amazing! Do it again, Max! Please! I want to see Olivia go whoosh! Up in stars!”
Max looked at Olivia. She looked back with solemn frog’s eyes.
“I suppose it has to be done,” said Max.
“I guess I have to put up with it,” said Olivia. Max took a deep breath and bent down to kiss the top of her froggy head. Olivia shut her eyes.
Whoosh!
She was surrounded by a haze of sparkly stars and was definitely a girl – with long dark plaits and a cheerful face, and not a touch of purple anywhere. Adolphus whooped and flew around the room.
“Well that’s that, then,” said Ferocious, satisfied as he burrowed down into Max’s tunic to go to sleep.
Max looked at Olivia and grinned with relief. They were safe from the awful Mudfoot. They were themselves again. And he had a great spell to kick Snotty Hogsbottom’s bottom with in three days’ time.
“You know,” he said, happily. “I’ll need an assistant for the Novices’ Spell-Making Competition. To demonstrate the incredible power of my never-seen-before spell. And of course, whoever did it would certainly get a share of the twenty gold coins prize money to say nothing of the eternal glory!”
Olivia grinned. “Yeah, yeah, OK,” she said. “I’ll be turned into a frog for you. I’ll even share the prize money fifty-fifty. I hate Snotty Hogsbottom, too. He trod on my toes three times at the Trophy Ball last year and he called Adolphus a pea-brain.”
“Adolphus is a pea-brain,” said Ferocious, poking his head briefly out of Max’s tunic and then settling back down to sleep.
“That’s beside the point,” said Olivia, firmly. “Snotty Hogsbottom is a stuck-up pig and needs to be taught a lesson. Besides, if Dad has to give up on you becoming a knight, maybe he’ll let me be a squire, instead. I’m in!”
“Right, then,” said Max. “We’ll need to brew up some of that reversal spell. No good just kissing you back – that makes it look far too easy. I want it all to look as impressive and magical as possible. There’s no way I’m letting Snotty Hogsbottom beat me this time!”
Hogsbottom’s Secret
Castle Camelot was decorated from moat to turrets in silver streamers and multicoloured balloons. The sun was shining, and there was music floating across the castle green from the many minstrels and jesters hoping to please the crowds with tales of brave knights and their daring deeds. Brightly coloured stalls flourished round the edges of the green, selling an amazing variety of trinkets: jester hats, cauldrons, jars of potions, decorated scabbards, fried rats’ tails and toy broomsticks. There was a crowd of assorted knights and ladies weaving in and out of the stalls and children, dragons, dogs and other small animals were diving around in their midst getting in everyone’s way. Above the castle entrance, a large banner proclaimed: Annual Festival of Magic.
“Mmm, roast suckling pig,” said Max, sniffing the air appreciatively as smells of cooking food wafted across from numerous campfires. He, Olivia and their parents were approaching the castle entrance slowly, fighting their way through the crowds, with Adolphus held tightly on a strong lead. They had room
s in the castle itself, since Sir Bertram was a distant cousin of King Arthur, but Max was slightly envious of the families camped around the castle in their bright tents, enjoying the sunshine.
When they got to the entrance, they were stopped by two rather surly-looking guards.
“Pass, please,” said one of them in a bored voice, holding his hand out.
“Pass?” roared Sir Bertram. “Pass?! Don’t you know who I am, you good-for-nothing scurvy sons of kitchen wenches? What do you mean, pass?”
The guard looked up and squinted.
“Oh – er – yes, good day, Sir Bertram,” he said, nervously. “Orders, I’m afraid. All visitors to show passes, no exceptions whatsoever. It’s on account of having the young princeling here, you know – the son of the Cornish King.” He lowered his voice a fraction and added, “They do say as how there’s a plot to do away with him while he’s here, and of course that’ll mean war – the Cornish are looking for any excuse to invade as it is, and if anything happens to the young prince while he’s under the king’s protection, well, that’s all the excuse they’ll need…”
“So if you don’t mind,” said the other guard, holding out his hand in turn. “Pass, please.” He took a step backwards as Sir Bertram swelled visibly, but before his face had time to turn the colour of a ripe tomato (which Max knew was the danger point), Lady Griselda had whipped out a piece of creamy parchment from her robes and handed it over.
“I think you’ll find this is what you need,” she said sweetly. “Don’t fuss, Bertram,” she added, turning to her husband. “You know they need to be extra careful.”
“Absolute nonsense,” muttered Sir Bertram. “Dashed insult, that’s what I call it. Balderdash and poppycock!” But he consented to let the guards examine the pass before sweeping them all into the castle and up to their rooms at the top of the north tower.