At that moment the ragged heap in the far cell burst into life and threw itself at the bars. ‘Smell the fence!’ bellowed Sigurd, shaking his bars as hard as he could manage.
‘My poor Siggy!’ cried Mrs Tibblethwaite, stretching her arms towards her imprisoned husband. ‘What have they done to you?’ She turned back to Constable Pritty and fixed him with a steely glare.
‘Please let him out, Constable – I’m sure we can settle the whole thing in court. He is perfectly harmless. There’s no need to keep my husband like some caged-animal.’
‘Harmless!’ squeaked Mr Thripp, having finally managed to swallow the chocolate eclair. ‘He threatened me with a hedge trimmer!’
‘Let him out!’ snapped Mrs Tibblethwaite.
‘No.’
Mrs Tibblethwaite plonked her heavy handbag on the desk. ‘Do you know what this is, Officer?’
‘It’s a handbag, Madam,’ replied Constable Pritty very coldly.
‘Wrong. It’s a blunt instrument…’ hissed Mrs Tibblethwaite as she whirled it round her head like a Viking axe. ‘And I use it for hitting stupid policemen over the head until they see some sense.’
She began to batter Constable Pritty so hard that he had to duck down behind his desk, where he hurriedly pushed the alarm button. A siren screeched through the building.
Sigurd rattled his bars in fury. ‘Let me out! Don’t you touch Viking woman! By Thor, I’ll ring your telephone!’
Zoe shook her head. ‘I think you mean that you’ll wring his neck, Siggy.’
‘Yes, yes! I ring neck and telephone! Leave Viking woman alone!’
Why Sigurd was making such a fuss was a mystery to the Ellis’s because Constable Pritty and Mr Thripp were getting by far the worst of the battle as Mrs Tibblethwaite continued to batter them with her handbag.
But reinforcements were now arriving fast from other parts of the police station, and soon a major battle was under way.
Tim jumped up and down and shouted ‘Fire! Fire!’ just in case it helped, which it didn’t. The rest of the family retreated to the safety of the far corner and waited for the inevitable to happen.
It was amazing how strong Mrs Tibblethwaite was, and Mr Ellis wondered where on earth she had learned all her wrestling tricks. Policemen went flying in every direction. She had the head of one gripped under one arm and was busy giving an armlock to another. But the odds were finally overwhelming.
It was sheer weight of policemen that won the day. They piled on top of Mrs Tibblethwaite until there was a huge seething blue mountain. Out came the handcuffs and a few moments later Tibby was pushed into the same cell as Sigurd. They clung to each other in a touching embrace.
Constable Pritty picked himself up from the floor, straightened his hat, and tried to appear calm and unmoved. Tim and Zoe managed to stop themselves from telling him that there was a rather squashed chocolate eclair sitting on his right shoulder like some weird giant caterpillar. ‘Any more of you like to be put behind bars?’ he asked.
Mr Ellis slowly shook his head. He went to the cell and peered through at Sigurd and Tibby. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll have to leave you here for the time being until the matter comes up in court. We’ll see you at the trial. I’m sure everything will be fine!’ he said, trying to sound reassuring.
Mrs Tibblethwaite was surprisingly cheerful. ‘That’s all right Mr Ellis. You go and look after the hotel. I’ve got Siggy and he’s got me, and that’s all that matters!’
For the next few days The Viking Hotel was filled with a deep and gloomy silence. Even the guests wandered about with clouded faces. The main reason the hotel had so many customers was because of Sigurd. They liked to see the huge, hairy Viking wandering about the place getting into trouble and speaking his very strange version of English. Now that he was no longer there they realised how much they missed him. Even Mr Ellis felt it although he was the one who always had to deal with the problems Sigurd caused.
They missed Mrs Tibblethwaite, too. She was central to the smooth running of the hotel. In fact Mrs Ellis thought that if Tibby had not had to go and look after her sister all these problems would never have occurred.
Mr and Mrs Ellis found themselves rushing about working three times as hard as they used to. Tim and Zoe helped out as best they could but it was no fun for anyone. There was immense relief when at last the day of the trial came. Everyone from the hotel, even the guests, made sure that they had front row seats at the Flotby Courthouse for the trial of Sigurd and Mrs Tibblethwaite.
Mr and Mrs Ellis had to give evidence. They tried to tell the judge that Sigurd was a Viking from tenth century Hedeby. They tried to tell her the story of how Sigurd had come to The Viking Hotel in the first place.
The poor judge was obviously very confused, but it was Zoe who finally managed to convince her that the story was true. She spoke with simple honesty, about their life with Siggy over the last year and she told Judge Farley how she had taught Sigurd to speak and had learned about his home.
Judge Farley was very impressed and things seemed to be going well for Sigurd and Tibby. Then Constable Pritty and Mr Thripp took the stand and things went from bad to worse. Crime after crime was mentioned, the last one being ‘causing a chocolate eclair to stick to a police officer’s uniform’.
The Ellis’s watched Judge Farley’s face closely. It was getting sterner by the second. From time to time she glanced across at Sigurd and Mrs Tibblethwaite with a deep frown. She shook her head slowly and scribbled notes on her note-pad.
Mrs Ellis slipped her hand into her husband’s and whispered to him. ‘I don’t like it, Keith. Look at the judge’s face. I’m afraid Tibby and Sigurd are really for it this time.’
7
Here Come The Vikings!
‘Sigurd of Hedeby,’ began Judge Farley, ‘you have been charged with several very serious offences. I have listened most carefully to all the evidence against you and it is quite clear that these crimes have taken place.’
Mrs Ellis gripped her husband’s arm tightly. ‘I told you – he’s in for it now,’ she whispered.
‘Ssssh,’ muttered Mr Ellis as Judge Farley continued.
‘It is also clear to me that if I were a Viking warrior, hundreds of miles from home, in a strange country and, even worse, in a strange century, I might well have behaved in the same way, especially if I had come across Constable Pritty and Ernest Thripp.’
By this time the entire Ellis family were sitting on the edges of their seats, nervously grasping the hand rails in front. Judge Farley coughed and went on, while Constable Pritty and Mr Thripp slowly turned paler and paler.
‘In the normal course of events the behaviour of these two men would have been quite correct. They both have jobs to do, and they were both doing them. But these events were not normal. They were faced with something that they simply could not understand. It was their own reactions that drove Sigurd, and Mrs Tibblethwaite to behave as they did. I therefore find both of the defendants NOT GUILTY.’
A huge cheer almost tore the courtroom apart. The hotel guests leapt up and down, laughing and kissing each other. Zoe, Tim and Mrs Ellis were all in tears and Mr Ellis sat silently shaking his head, unable to believe the verdict. The judge banged her hammer loudly to bring back some order.
‘There still remains one problem which must be dealt with as soon as possible. Mr Thripp was quite correct to report Sigurd for handling food. The guests at The Viking Hotel may enjoy the novelty of being served by a Viking, but I am quite sure that they wouldn’t enjoy a dose of food poisoning. It is most important to find Sigurd something harmless to do and I order that this must be done by the end of the week.’
So saying, Judge Farley rose and swept out of the courtroom, leaving Sigurd’s supporters to carry on cheering and to dance their way out on to the streets of Flotby. A conga of excited guests swept up the High Street and back towards The Viking Hotel, while Sigurd and Mrs Tibblethwaite sat on the roof of the car and waved to the laughing crowds as th
ey made their way home. Sigurd had actually asked if he could drive – Mr Ellis had flatly refused.
‘Talk about nerve,’ he muttered to himself.
Back at the hotel the party continued for a long time. Siggy was even allowed to drink champagne from a water jug. Zoe brought down some of her music tapes and soon the guests were dancing around the tables in the dining room. Siggy joined in, clomping around, and became so excited that he got Nosepicker out and seconds later it was firmly stuck in the ceiling – again. Siggy thought it was so funny he left it there.
‘It’s like King Arthur and the sword in the stone,’ suggested Tim. Tibby threw her arms wide open and shouted across the room.
‘Hear ye! Whoever pulls this mighty Nosepicker from the ceiling will be the future King of England!’
Everyone collapsed laughing, ate far too much food and dragged themselves off to bed exhausted.
The following morning there seemed to be an awful lot of headaches around. Mr and Mrs Ellis eyed each other gloomily across the breakfast table. ‘I still don’t know what we can find Sigurd to do,’ complained Mrs Ellis. ‘The judge said it had to be something harmless. That’s impossible with Sigurd.’
Tim came marching into the room holding Nosepicker aloft. ‘I am the future King of England!’ he announced loudly.
‘Ssssh,’ murmured Mr Ellis. ‘Can’t you see we’re suffering? Anyway, we are trying to think of something for Siggy to do.’
‘Maybe Mrs Tibblethwaite can think of something,’ said Zoe.
‘After the way she battered those policemen the other day I’m beginning to wonder if she’s as safe as she looks,’ said Mr Ellis. ‘The pair of them strike fear into the heart!’
Tim put down Nosepicker with a loud clunk. ‘I’ve just had a thought,’ he said.
‘Stand-by everyone!’ giggled Zoe. ‘Tim’s had an idea!’
‘But it’s a good one,’ said Tim. ‘I think Siggy and Mrs Tibblethwaite ought to become wrestlers.’
‘Wrestlers?’
‘Yes – wrestlers.’
‘WRESTLERS?!’
‘Like you see on television sometimes, a tag team. They can dress up like Viking warriors. They’d be brilliant.’
There was complete silence round the table. Zoe was about to burst out laughing when Mrs Tibblethwaite walked in. She was moving carefully and slowly, as if the soft pile of the carpet was unbearably painful to her feet. ‘I feel as if there’s a road drill inside my head,’ she said. She sat down slowly. ‘Why is everyone looking at me?’ she asked.
‘Tim thinks that you and Siggy ought to be tag team wrestlers,’ said Zoe with a little laugh. Tim stuck his tongue out at her. Zoe smiled and stuck hers out too. Mrs Tibblethwaite held her throbbing head in her hands and looked across at Tim.
‘Just at this moment I don’t think I could wrestle a pillow and win. But when I am feeling better, Tim, you and I are going to sit down and have a long chat. I think you are a genius. It’s the most exciting idea I have heard for ages. Now, if you don’t mind, I shall go back to bed until the roadworks inside my head have finished.’ Tibby got up and slowly left the room.
Mr and Mrs Ellis and Zoe stared across the table at Tim, who had a quite ridiculous grin across his entire face. ‘I’m a genius,’ he reminded them all, picking up Nosepicker once more. ‘And the future King of England!’ Zoe snorted and stamped out of the room.
Days passed in a whirlwind of activity. Posters went up all over the town. They were in shop windows, on lampposts, on cars, everywhere. The lettering was bright yellow and black and there was a colour photograph of Sigurd and Mrs Tibblethwaite in full Viking wrestling gear.
In a large empty room at the hotel, Sigurd and Tibby practised hard. Their first match was coming up fast, and they were up against one of the country’s top tag teams, Grabbit and Grind. The two Vikings worked very hard and by the time the day of the wrestling match arrived they felt they were ready for anything.
Flotby Hall was packed out. It seemed as if everyone in the town had come to see the local celebrity and his wife in their first wrestling bout. The Ellis family had front row seats, and were barely able to control their excitement. They were astonished to see that Constable Pritty, Mr Thripp and Judge Farley were all in the audience.
A great cheer swept through the crowd as the main lights went out and the spotlights came on. There was a fanfare of trumpets and Grabbit and Grind appeared. Then another huge cheer went up as Sigurd and Tibby marched down to the ring. ‘Yeeehah!’ squealed Tim, and the bell pinged for the first round, Sigurd up against Grabbit.
First of all they circled each other, then there was a thunderous bang as they crashed into each other. Their arms locked and their muscles bulged. They grunted and heaved and hurled each other round the ring.
Zoe covered her eyes with her hands and then hastily uncovered them because she couldn’t see anything. The wrestlers changed over. Grind threw herself at Mrs Tibblethwaite and they both fell to the floor. ‘Go on Tibby,’ screamed Zoe, beating her fists on her legs. Mr Ellis leaned back a calm smile on his face. He slipped an arm round his wife’s shoulders.
‘Who’d have thought it would end like this?’ he whispered to her. ‘Look at those two in the ring. They are having the time of their lives. Tim was right and it was a brilliant idea. We’ve solved the hotel problem too. We shall have even more customers now thanks to Sigurd and Mrs Tibblethwaite. Even Constable Pritty and Mr Thripp seem to be enjoying themselves. It’s wonderful.’
The bangs and thuds went on as Sigurd and Mrs Tibblethwaite battled away with their opponents. Sigurd was standing on the ropes, both arms raised to the ceiling. ‘By the God Thor!’ he yelled. ‘I telephone your neck!’ he bellowed at Grind.
‘Telephone your neck?’ repeated Mrs Ellis to Zoe.
‘I think he means he wants to wring her neck,’ Zoe explained.
Sigurd launched himself from the ropes and landed on top of Grabbit. ‘Now I make sacrifice to Thor!’ he cried.
‘Oh dear,’ groaned Mr Ellis. ‘It looks as if Siggy can even turn a wrestling match into a disaster area. I can’t bear to watch!’ And Mr Ellis screwed up his eyes tightly and shoved his fingers in his ears, whilst all around him people cheered wildly as The Viking Warriors grappled their way to victory.
Siggy and Mrs Tibblethwaite stood proudly in the ring, arms above their heads in triumph. Everyone cheered and clapped until their hands were sore.
‘Dad, Dad,’ cried Zoe tugging at her father’s arm. ‘It’s all right, you can open your eyes now. Siggy and Mrs Tibblethwaite have won – they’re a success!’
‘A success,’ muttered Mr Ellis, staring at Siggy with a look of amazement.
‘I suck eggs,’ Siggy shouted to him, hugging Mrs Tibblethwaite and grinning madly.
Mr Ellis looked at his wife in despair. ‘Do you think he’ll ever be normal?’ he asked.
‘I shouldn’t think so,’ she said. ‘Anyway, what does it matter, Siggy’s a success just the way he is.’
Mr Ellis looked doubtful, but left Siggy to get on with things in his own peculiar way. For now, at least, it seemed the best way of coping with the daft Viking.
Viking in Trouble Page 4