The Beast of Buckingham Palace

by David Walliams

  Nanny settled in on the end of his bed. She smiled at him, and nodded as if to say, Go on.

  Alfred stared at the scrambled eggy-wegg. It looked as if it were plastic and, from experience, it was going to taste like it too. He took a mouthful.

  STING!

  There was that familiar bitter aftertaste again. Alfred winced. Without swallowing it, he lied, “Delicious! Thank you, Nanny.”

  “Good boy! Now eat it up while I tidy this room of yours!”

  The old lady hopped off the bed and made her way to the window. As she ran her hands over the woodworm holes in the frame, Alfred seized his chance. He spat the mouthful of eggy-wegg back on to his plate.

  SPLAT!

  Then he scooped up the lot and hid it in the drawer of his bedside cabinet.

  SHUNT!

  “We must get these holes repaired,” said Nanny. “You will catch your death of cold with all this freezing air coming through.”

  “No, no, Nanny. Please don’t,” replied Alfred. Without a key, this was his only way out of his bedroom.

  “No. No. It has to be done,” she said, turning round. At once, she noticed that the boy’s plate was empty. “You’ve finished your eggy-wegg!”

  “Yes, thank you so much. It was yummy.”

  Immediately, she was suspicious. “That was very quick.”

  “I was starving.”

  “Would you like some more eggy-wegg?”

  “No, no,” replied the boy. “I’ve had exactly the right amount of eggy-wegg.”

  “Good, good,” said Nanny. “Now I want you to rest up in bed all day today.”

  “But what about the Queen? Oh, Nanny, please! We have to do something!”

  “I’ll keep my ear to the ground and bring you any news as soon as I have it,” she said, sitting next to him on the bed, stroking his head. “I promise. Now back to sleep.”

  With that, she left the prince’s bedroom and locked the door behind her.

  CLICK!

  Alfred felt as if he were being held prisoner. Just like his mother.

  Despite not having eaten any of his eggy-wegg, Alfred felt more full of life than ever. As soon as Nanny had locked his door, he leaped out of bed. Instantly he began his detective work. He made a big pile on the floor of all his ancient history books. The prince was looking for clues about the markings that had been chalked on the floor of the ballroom.

  However much he searched and searched these books, and many others, he couldn’t crack the code of what he’d seen on the ballroom floor. The boy needed to take another look, and this time copy down what he saw for reference. Alfred opened the stationery drawer of his antique desk and grabbed a little notepad and a pencil. He stuffed them into his pyjama pocket for safekeeping.

  The sound of the siren that rang throughout Buckingham Palace for the beginning of that night’s curfew couldn’t come soon enough.

  WEEOOOEEE!

  This was the time when all those inside the palace had to be safely in their rooms in case of an attack from outside.

  Alfred blew out his candle and shuffled over to the window on his knees. The searchlights that scoured the walls of the palace, looking for intruders, passed by his window much more regularly than normal. It was almost as if the royal guards were waiting for him. Alfred didn’t dare risk it. The problem was that the only other way out was the door, but that was locked from the outside.

  If he were going to carry on his detective work, he’d have to think fast.

  Hearing the wind whistle through the fireplace…

  WHOOSH!

  …Alfred realised this might be the only way out of his bedroom.

  So he pulled the grate aside and squeezed his skinny little body up into the flue. It was dark and sooty in there, but because the flue had been made of bricks he could use them to climb up like the rungs of a ladder. As his bedroom was on the top floor, it was only a short climb to the roof of Buckingham Palace. When he reached the top, he disturbed some pigeons that were nesting there.

  SQUAWK! SQUAWK! SQUAWK!

  This alerted the royal guards who were keeping watch over London from the roof.

  Alfred kept himself hidden inside the chimney as one of the fearsome royal guards left his station to take a closer look. When the last pigeon flew out of the chimney top…

  SQUAWK! SQUAWK! SQUAWK!

  …the guard returned to his post.

  Slowly and silently, the boy climbed out of the top of the chimney. For the first time in his life, he was standing on the roof of Buckingham Palace. As dark clouds swirled above him, he looked out across London. Now he had a 360-degree view of the city. A city that he’d studied in books, one that had the most famous skyline in the world.

  Now it was all in ruins.

  Alfred thought of what Mite had told him, of the poor people down there, scurrying around in the dark, with little food, and no clean water, surviving from day to day. They were people too, but they had been reduced to living like animals. Only because he’d been born a prince was he here in the palace, and they were down there. No wonder there was talk of revolution. Alfred was beginning to think that maybe the revolutionaries weren’t the baddies after all. He was determined to do something to help the people of Britain. This was not how the country should be.

  Then Alfred heard the sound of something flapping in the wind.

  FLIP!

  FLAP!

  FLUP!

  Looking up, he saw the flag of the griffin on top of the flagpole. How he wanted to tear that flag down, and hoist up the Union Jack!

  One day, he thought. One day.

  The Union Jack had been the symbol of the country for hundreds of years. Now it was the flag that bound together the revolutionaries, and as such had been outlawed by the Lord Protector.

  The black clouds in the sky above Buckingham Palace parted, and a huge airship sailed into view. On its side was the same image of the griffin. This airship was used by the Lord Protector to control the people outside the palace. Right on cue, the projector on the roof of the palace flickered into life. It beamed a shaft of light on to the envelope at the top of the airship, the part that contained all the gas. The envelope was like a cinema screen. An image of a golden griffin appeared, then it faded and was replaced by the face of the Lord Protector.

  “People of Britain,” he began, “I, your Lord Protector, have an important announcement.”

  Alfred watched from his hiding place behind the chimney stack.

  “The revolutionaries struck again last night. St Paul’s Cathedral, a sacred place of worship, was destroyed. This is a new low from a secret organisation that has brought only death and destruction to this land. Sadly, this now calls for extreme measures. After consultation with the King, there is a new law against traitors. Anyone found out on the streets after eight pm will be considered a revolutionary. As such, members of the King’s army or the royal guards will shoot on sight.”

  Alfred shuddered. This was even more dangerous than he’d thought. He looked across the roofs of London towards Big Ben. The clock on the tower was about to strike eight.

  “I wish you goodnight,” ended the Lord Protector as his face flickered to black, and the airship disappeared back up into the clouds.

  BONG!

  BONG!

  BONG!

  BONG!

  BONG!

  BONG!

  BONG!

  BONG!

  Eight o’clock. Alfred gulped.

  GULP!

  Might the royal guards shoot him on sight too?

  Alfred scuttled across the palace roof. He found a small hatch, which he carefully opened and clambered through. Next, he dangled by his arms for a moment, before dropping down on to the carpet below.

  THUD!

  Now he was back inside the palace, and tonight’s adventure could begin…

  Buckingham Palace was eerie at the best of times, and especially at night.

  Alfred made his way down the long, sweeping staircase, trea
ding on each step lightly in case it made a sound. He patted his top pocket. The pad and pencil he needed for taking notes were still there. As Alfred drew nearer and nearer to the ballroom, he noticed there were some discordant sounds coming from it. So, when he reached the huge wooden door, he knelt down and peeped through a keyhole.

  The entire room was illuminated by candles. They had been placed on the floor in some kind of formation, perhaps in the shape of a star. It was difficult to tell exactly.

  Members of the royal guard stood to attention as the Lord Protector, with an old red leather-bound book in his hand for reference, was marking the floorboards with chalk.

  So the Lord Protector was behind those strange markings! But what was he drawing or writing? And was that book the mysterious Book of Albion?

  When the Lord Protector had finished, the wooden floor was covered in chalk markings.

  Then he gestured to a group of guards who were standing in the corner of the ballroom. On cue, they lifted a tall stone statue from behind them and placed it on the exact spot carefully indicated by the Lord Protector.

  Alfred immediately recognised it.

  It was a statue of a beast.

  Not just any beast.

  A griffin.

  Half lion and half eagle, the griffin was a symbol of divine power.

  A power that is impossible to imagine.

  A power over life and death.

  A power to create or destroy the universe.

  Alfred recognised that particular stone statue of the griffin. It had once sat on the front wall of Buckingham Palace. But, like many valuable artefacts, it had been moved to safety inside.

  Next, the members of the royal guard took their positions around the ballroom, like figures on a chessboard. Then, on the Lord Protector’s signal, they began to sing. Alfred tuned his ear in as much as he could. It wasn’t a song exactly, more of a chant. The noise they made was unsettling, as if they were conjuring someone from the dead.

  The Lord Protector began reading aloud from the book. He was speaking in some ancient language.

  The sound of his voice and the chanting from the royal guards grew louder and louder until a figure appeared through the tall double doors at the far end of the ballroom.

  It was a man, bathed in the light of a thousand candles burning behind him. He was barefoot, wearing pyjamas.

  From his long grey beard, Alfred immediately recognised the man.

  It was his father, the King...

  The King looked as if he were sleepwalking as he moved straight towards the Lord Protector, stopping in the dead centre of the ballroom.

  Alfred felt a pain in his heart. It was horrible seeing his own father look so lost.

  The chanting grew louder and louder as the King held out his hand.

  One of the royal guards passed the Lord Protector an ornate medieval sword. It had a distinctive jewelled handle, which glistened with all the colours of the rainbow. The man took the weapon, and slowly cut the King’s hand.

  SLICE!

  Alfred winced from behind the door as he spied his father’s blood trickle from his hand.

  The Lord Protector then guided the King’s hand until it was directly over the griffin.

  The blood spilled on to the head of the statue.

  Then, as if by magic, all the candles in the ballroom went out at once, and the room was plunged into darkness.

  BLACK.

  Out of the gloom something began to take shape. At first it was nothing more than a flame. Then the flames grew and grew as they licked higher and higher. The heat and light from the flames felt a hundred times hotter and brighter than a roaring fire.

  The flames were gold.

  Gold fire.

  Alfred closed his eye behind the keyhole for fear of being blinded. But, as much as he couldn’t look, he had to. He rubbed his eye before putting it back to the keyhole. The flames were taking shape. Taking the shape of a beast.

  A winged beast.

  A beast made of fire.

  The most powerful beast in all the universe.

  The griffin.

  And it was alive.

  Alfred couldn’t believe his eyes. The Lord Protector had conjured this mythical beast to life.

  The book.

  The ancient markings on the floor.

  The chanting.

  The medieval sword.

  The King’s blood.

  All of them played their part in these dark arts.

  No wonder the King had become nothing but a walking shadow! He seemed to be just a pawn in the Lord Protector’s wicked game.

  From the other side of the keyhole, Alfred watched the scene unfold.

  The griffin beat its mighty wings, and the golden flames licked the walls of the palace ballroom. It was like looking into the mouth of Hell.

  Death.

  Destruction.

  This was evil in its purest form.

  All would be forced to kneel before it or suffer a terrible fate at the claws of this beast.

  The griffin let out a deafening cry.

  “WAAAAAK!”

  The bombproof glass windows cracked.

  CRACK!

  Plaster fell from the ceiling.

  RUMBLE! The sound was so loud that the King covered his ears in pain. All of a sudden, he came back into the land of the living.

  “NOOOO!” he cried as he leaped at the Lord Protector to wrestle the ancient sword from his hands. “I won’t do this! Set me free!”

  The royal guards pounced on him, but he just managed to grab the sword and lunge at the beast.

  “AAARGH!” he screamed as the sword sliced through the griffin’s heart of fire.

  WHOOSH!

  In the blink of an eye, the mighty beast vanished.

  Into air.

  Into thin air.

  It was as if it were nothing more than an illusion.

  The King dropped the sword…

  CLANK!

  …as the Lord Protector’s face darkened with fury. He gestured to one of the guards, who struck the King hard across the face with his gloved hand.

  THWACK!

  It knocked the King out cold. He collapsed to the floor with a THUD.

  From behind the tall wooden door, Alfred desperately wanted to call out to his father, but he was frozen in fear. After all, he had just seen a monster.

  Just as the boy was about to tiptoe back up to his bedroom, he felt someone or something looming behind him.

  Slowly he turned round.

  The All-Seeing Eye was staring right back at him.

  They were eye to gigantic eye.

  The game

  was

  up.

  Alfred had been discovered out of his bedroom in the dead of night. He’d seen things he should never have seen. Goodness knows what the Lord Protector would do to him now – have him sent to the Tower of London or worse!

  Alfred had to escape.

  And fast.

  “Goodbye!” chirped the boy as he dashed off down the corridor as fast as his little legs could carry him.

  The All-Seeing Eye pursued him at speed.

  As Alfred turned a corner, he tripped over the OCTOBUT, which was trundling along the floor.

  CLUNK!

  “OOF!”

  The robot had been carrying a silver tray in one of its three remaining arms. On it was a pair of stinking old boots.

  “Would you care for a crumpet?” asked the robot brightly, even though it was on its back, waggling its arms in the air like an upturned beetle.

  With all his strength, Alfred righted the robot, and gave it back its tray. “That way!” he said, as he set it off in the direction from which he’d come.

  As the All-Seeing Eye came whirring round the corner, the strangest thing happened. Something Alfred had never seen before. The flying robot’s pupil opened, and a laser blast shot out.

  ZAP!

  BOOM!

  It hit the poor Octobut right on one of its three remaini
ng arms.

  CLANG!

  It clunked to the floor. The arm with the iron in its hand was now detached. The Octobut was down to two arms. A Bibut.

  “I never did care much for ironing,” commented the robot butler.

  ZAP!

  BOOM!

  Another blast shot from the All-Seeing Eye. This one skimmed the top of Alfred’s head, singeing his hair.

  SIZZLE!

  Was that a warning shot? Or was it meant to kill? Whichever, it was too close for comfort.

  Alfred picked up the antique silver tray the Octobut had been carrying and lifted it to his face, using it as a shield.

  ZAP!

  To Alfred’s surprise the silver tray deflected the laser blast, and it shot right back at the All-Seeing Eye.

  ZAP!

  BOOM!

  The flying robot blasted itself back down the corridor.

  ZOOM!

  WHOOMPH!

  The boy couldn’t help but smile as it hit the wall.

  Alfred seized his chance to get away. With the tray still in his hand, he hurried further down the corridor. At the end, a long spiral staircase led down to the servants’ quarters. He leaped on to the tray, and using it as a skateboard he sped down the stone steps.

  This was FUN!

  Alfred looked over his shoulder.

  NO!

  The All-Seeing Eye was following close behind.

  ZAP!

  BOOM!

  Another laser shot.

  CLUNK! CLUNK! CLUNK!

  ZAP!

  BOOM!

  And another.

  CLUNK! CLUNK! CLUNK!!

  This time Alfred couldn’t use the tray as a shield as he was standing on it! What’s more, he was going way too fast to stop!

  ZAP!

  BOOM!

  CLUNK! CLUNK! CLUNK!

  Alfred threw his weight to one side, deliberately swerving the tray into the wall.

  SMASH!

  It scraped along the plasterwork, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air as the boy continued his descent.