The Beast of Buckingham Palace

by David Walliams

  Emperor Caligula of Ancient Rome.

  A Minotaur.

  A Cyclops.

  A Chinese dragon.

  Or, worst of all, the hound of Hell, a three-headed dog.

  Anything was possible. The impossible was possible. Alfred was shaking with fear.

  RUSTLE!

  There it was again.

  Perhaps it is just a rat, he kept telling himself. But it sounded way too noisy to be a rat. A giant rat? he thought.

  RUSTLE!

  When he and Nanny thought they were near to the source of the sound, they stopped dead still.

  RUSTLE!

  Whatever it was, it was hiding on the other side of a huge leather trunk.

  Alfred gulped.

  GULP!

  Nanny gulped.

  GULP!

  Nanny indicated for Alfred to have a look.

  Alfred shook his head.

  Alfred indicated for Nanny to have a look.

  Nanny shook her head.

  Nanny indicated for them to go together.

  They both nodded their heads.

  The pair held hands and tiptoed round the trunk to find…

  Mite!

  “Hello?” she chirped from behind the leather trunk.

  “It’s you!” exclaimed Alfred, his voice echoing around the vault.

  “Yep, it’s me!” replied Mite. “And it’s you, whoever you are!”

  Her face was even dirtier than usual. She had a packet of something brown, no doubt swiped from the kitchen, that she was munching on. And she had got it all around her mouth.

  “What have you got there?” demanded Nanny.

  “Chocolate!”

  “Give me that!” ordered the old lady.

  She went to snatch the packet, and a struggle began.

  “NO!” protested the girl.

  “Give me that!”

  “I said ‘no’!”

  “LADIES, PLEASE!” ordered Alfred. “This is unseemly.”

  “You wot?” asked Mite.

  It was enough of a distraction for Nanny to wrench the packet out of the girl’s filthy little hands. She sniffed it.

  “This isn’t chocolate!” scoffed Nanny.

  “Wot is it, then?” demanded Mite.

  “Stock cubes.”

  “I did think they tasted a bit meaty. I never had chocolate before, so I dunno wot it tastes like, do I?”

  With that, the little girl snatched the packet back from the old lady, and carried on munching.

  “Eurgh!” exclaimed Alfred.

  “Now last time up in the junk room you gave us the slip,” began Nanny. “You need to tell me where this secret passage is right now!”

  “You’re a right bossy one, you are!” was the girl’s verdict.

  Alfred had to stifle a giggle. She was absolutely right.

  “I said, right now!” said Nanny, not the least bit amused.

  Mite munched some more on her stock cubes. “I’ll think about it.”

  “What do you mean, you’ll think about it?”

  “I’ll let you know when I’ve finished this!”

  Nanny sighed and tried a different approach. “If you do as I say, I will show you where all the chocolate is hidden.”

  The girl was tempted. “You will?”

  “Oh yes. The palace has mountains of the stuff. To last a hundred years. You can help yourself to as many chocolate bars as you can carry.”

  “I can carry a lot!”

  “Milk chocolate, dark chocolate, white chocolate, mint chocolate, orange chocolate, ruby chocolate, caramel chocolate, fudge chocolate, nutty chocolate!”

  “Now I want some too!” said Alfred.

  “All right, all right, I’ll show you!” said Mite.

  “Clever girl!” replied Nanny.

  “Chocolate first.”

  Nanny sighed. “The kitchen is all the way up those stairs, and I bet that underground passage is somewhere down here.”

  “You’re right,” said Mite. “Follow me!”

  She galloped along the vault, as the other two trailed behind.

  “I nearly got caught earlier. There were all these guards down here,” remarked the girl. “Moving something around in the dark. You just missed them.”

  Alfred shot Nanny a look.

  “I told you it was true!” he said.

  “What’s true?” asked Mite.

  “It’s a long story,” replied Nanny, shutting down the conversation. “Not for your ears. Now where is this secret passage?”

  “This way!” chirped the girl.

  Right in the furthest corner of the vault was a loose stone in the floor.

  “It’s under here,” said Mite, stamping the stone with her bare foot.

  “Show me!” demanded Nanny.

  The little girl huffed and slid the stone away.

  CHONK!

  Peering down into the gloom, all three could see a series of stone steps leading to what sounded like a river.

  RUSH!

  “Down there used to be part of the London Underground?” asked Alfred.

  “Yeah. You can still make out some of the station names at low tide. Piccadilly Circus. Green Park. Knightsbridge.”

  “The Piccadilly Line!” exclaimed the prince.

  “Well I never,” said Nanny. “It must be another secret escape route built during World War Two. So secret that nobody knew of it. Good girl!”

  “Now I want my chocolate!” Mite demanded.

  “Of course. Of course. You will have so much chocolate you’ll be sick as a dog!”

  “YES!”

  “Here. Let me take you!” said the old lady, putting the girl’s hand in hers. “My little prince?”

  “Yes,” sighed the boy.

  “Funny name!” giggled Mite.

  “I know,” he agreed.

  “My little prince,” began Nanny again, “you need to go straight back to your room!”

  “BUT—!”

  “No buts! You need to go now.”

  “But I want some chocolate too!”

  “He’s not having the fudge one!” argued Mite.

  “I will bring you up a bar, just as soon as I’ve taken care of this little one!” replied Nanny.

  Together they made their way out of the vault.

  Keeping in the shadows, Alfred went on ahead, tiptoeing his way from the very bottom of Buckingham Palace to the very top. When he returned to his bedroom, he locked his door behind him, and hid the key under his pillow. Then he paced across the room to the window. Slowly, so as not to arouse any suspicion from the guards outside, he pulled back his curtains to peek out. At first his eyes were drawn to the fires that blazed every night all over London. There was always unrest, and it was worse at night. Not far from the palace, a Union Jack was raised on a lamppost to cheers.

  “HOORAY!”

  It must have been revolutionaries! Maybe Mite? Maybe his mother? Maybe they were all part of the same movement?

  Within moments the Lord Protector’s airship descended from the clouds, the golden griffin gleaming on its side. At the base of the cabin, a gun revolved and fired at the flag.

  ZAP! ZAP! ZAP!

  BOOM!

  The Union Jack exploded into flames.

  “Enjoying the view, Your Royal Highness?” came a voice from the shadows behind him.

  The prince froze in fear. He turned round slowly to see the Lord Protector sitting in an armchair in a dark corner of the room. The man had been there all along. Alfred was trembling with fear.

  “Well, I, er, just…”

  “Just what, sir?” purred the Lord Protector.

  “I haven’t been out of my bedroom. I promise.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Well, just the once. I had to pop out to use the bathroom.”

  “But you have a bathroom right there,” said the Lord Protector. Only his piercing eyes were clearly visible in the gloom. They indicated the half-open door leading to the boy’s private bathroo
m.

  “I mean I went to get a glass of water.”

  The Lord Protector chuckled to himself. “Then where is said glass of water?”

  “I drank it.”

  The man shook his head. “You forget that the All-Seeing Eye sees everything.”

  Alfred gulped.

  GULP!

  He had been busted.

  “The question is, Prince Alfred, what did you see?”

  “Nothing,” lied the boy. He knew he’d said it too quickly to be believed.

  “Now, come, come, child. We are all friends here.”

  “I am not your friend,” retorted Alfred.

  The Lord Protector raised an eyebrow. There was more spirit in this sickly child than he had thought.

  “Tell me exactly what you saw,” he pressed.

  “NOTHING!” protested the prince.

  The Lord Protector rose to his feet and stepped out of the shadows. With a smirk he took the key from under the boy’s pillow and unlocked the door. On opening it, Alfred saw that the All-Seeing Eye was hovering just outside.

  “Perhaps my friend here will help jog your memory,” said the Lord Protector.

  With that, the All-Seeing Eye floated silently into the room.

  Alfred stood by the window as the thing approached. He backed away until he had nowhere else to go.

  “Tell me what you saw,” demanded the Lord Protector.

  Now the giant eye was staring right into the boy’s eyes. Its pupil opened. Was it going to blast Alfred to pieces?

  “I know you are in league with Nanny,” said the man.

  “No, no,” lied Alfred, “Nanny has nothing to do with this. I swear! She is innocent!”

  “I’m not so sure. I will deal with her in good time.”

  “No, no. Not Nanny. Spare her! I beg you.”

  “Then tell me what you saw.”

  “I DEMAND TO SEE MY FATHER!” exclaimed Alfred. The prince was sure he had played his trump card here.

  “The King is sick,” replied the Lord Protector.

  “You have made him sick!”

  The Lord Protector kept his cool, but said, “That is a vicious lie. I am the King’s most loyal servant.”

  “You are anything but!”

  The man shook his head. “This can all be over right now if you just tell me what you saw.”

  “I demand to see my father!” Alfred repeated. He had the Lord Protector now.

  “It is late. The King needs to sleep.”

  “Now!”

  There was a pause before, to Alfred’s surprise, the Lord Protector bowed his head, and said, “As you wish, Your Royal Highness.”

  With that, the Lord Protector made his way over to the huge gold-edged mirror on the bedroom wall. He pressed an unseen button on the side, and the image dulled to reveal the King standing on the other side of the glass, looking in from his bedroom. It was a two-way mirror.

  “Father!” cried Alfred.

  The All-Seeing Eye hovered to one side as the boy rushed to the mirror. He threw himself at the glass, embracing it.

  However, the King just stared forward, not betraying a hint of emotion.

  “Your son wanted to see you, sir,” purred the Lord Protector.

  Still the King said nothing.

  “I regret to inform you that your son has been out of his bedroom tonight. We have reason to believe that, like his mother, the boy is in league with the revolutionaries.”

  “THAT’S NOT TRUE!” protested Alfred. “FATHER! FATHER! PLEASE! YOU MUST BELIEVE ME!”

  “What would you like me to do with him, sir?”

  Alfred beat his fists on the glass.

  BASH! BASH! BASH!

  “FATHER! PLEASE! LISTEN TO ME! I BEG YOU!”

  The King looked at his son. Alfred met his stare. He was desperate to see something in his eyes. Jove. Kindness. Pity. Anything. But there was nothing. Nothing at all. Just a cold deathly stare.

  “T-t-take the boy…” began the King.

  “Yes?” encouraged the Lord Protector.

  “T-t-take the boy to the Tower.”

  The Lord Protector smiled, and flicked the switch. In an instant, the King was gone.

  “NOOOOOOO!”

  screamed Alfred.

  A hood was pulled over Alfred’s head, so he couldn’t see a thing.

  Next, the condemned boy was marched along the corridors of Buckingham Palace by two royal guards, and down flights and flights of stairs. The Lord Protector led the way as the All-Seeing Eye hovered close behind. The guards held the boy’s arms tight.

  It was painful, and the prince could feel bruises blackening on his arms.

  “Can I at least say goodbye to Nanny?” he pleaded, his voice muffled by the hood.

  Maybe he could deliver a secret message to her.

  Maybe she could save him.

  “I am afraid not. Nanny is in the interrogation room as we speak. I expect her to be there for a long, long time.”

  The prince felt a pain in his heart. He desperately hoped he hadn’t brought some terrible fate on the kind old lady.

  “She is innocent!” protested the boy.

  “We shall see. The interrogation is very –” the Lord Protector chose his words carefully – “persuasive.”

  “Torture!” exclaimed the boy.

  “You’ll find out for yourself soon enough.”

  Alfred began trembling so much he felt as if his legs were going to collapse beneath him. The guards took his weight, and began dragging him along.

  A door opened and closed behind them. From the unfamiliar sounds echoing around, Alfred guessed they were no longer in the palace.

  TAP! TAP! TAP!

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a secret.”

  It sounded like they were in some kind of narrow passageway.

  “Where are you taking me?” demanded the boy.

  “Be patient, young prince. All will be revealed!”

  They walked some more before there was the sound of a very heavy door, or even wall, sliding to one side.

  WHIRR!

  Then there was the sound of it closing.

  WHIRR!

  The group took a few more steps forward, then finally came to a halt.

  The guards held the boy still for a moment, before his hood was whipped off.

  He blinked.

  Prince Alfred was in the outside world for the very first time in his life.

  Black water lapped at his feet and, looking up, he saw some stone arches. Instantly, he realised he was underneath a bridge.

  Westminster Bridge, to be precise.

  From his books on London, Alfred had learned that this bridge used to be one of the busiest in the city, with people and traffic continuously crossing the River Thames. Now Alfred could see that people had set up home all along the bridge in cardboard boxes and wooden crates. His heart ached for them as he noticed all they had over their heads to keep the rain out were old bits of tarpaulin.

  Alfred looked behind him, but there was no entrance visible back into Buckingham Palace, just a stone wall. There must be some secret way in and out, but the Lord Protector was not sharing it.

  “Your royal barge, sir,” announced the man as the All-Seeing Eye hovered behind him.

  Right on cue, a long wooden rowing boat, decorated with ornate carvings, painted mostly in gold, drifted into view. It was manned by at least a dozen royal guards, who lifted their oars as they reached the riverbank.

  “Your Royal Highness, this is where I bid you farewell,” purred the Lord Protector. “For the very last time.”

  “You can’t do this to me!” protested Alfred, struggling with the guards. “I’m a prince! I’m the heir to the throne!”

  “You are nothing but a traitor. Guards! Take him to the Tower!”

  As Alfred struggled…

  “Get your hands off me! You are controlling my father, but you can’t control me!”

&nb
sp; …the guards gripped harder. Now they were squeezing his arms so tightly he was in agony.

  “ARGH!”

  “Is that so?” purred the Lord Protector. “Put him in chains.”

  Roughly, they led the boy down the slippery stone steps to the barge.

  One metal chain went round the boy’s feet, another round his hands, which were tied behind his back, and another acted as a collar round his neck. Then he was shackled to the flagpole at the front of the barge.

  “I know what you’re doing!” called out Alfred. “Creating some kind of monster!”

  “It seems you are having visions, just like your father. The Tower should cure you of those.”

  The Lord Protector nodded, and the guards began rowing the prince away. The wooden oars sliced through the water in perfect time.

  Swish! Swash! Swish! Swash! Swish! Swash!

  On the riverbank, the Lord Protector, flanked by the All-Seeing Eye, gave the boy one final wave as the barge moved off.

  “Goodbye! Forever,” he said.

  Alfred turned his head away so the man wouldn’t see his tears.

  There was a thick fog over the River Thames, and the city seemed eerily quiet. Shapes and shadows unravelled themselves around the barge. Debris bobbed in the black water. Upturned boats, shoes, hats, books, suitcases, an umbrella, even a child’s doll.

  Each item told a story.

  A horror story.

  The boat swept along the Thames almost without a sound. The oars made much less noise than a motor, so the barge was perfect for transporting prisoners to the Tower of London. Alfred’s thoughts turned to his mother.

  This was the exact same journey she must have made.

  From the bow of the barge, the boy could make out the shapes of London landmarks through the thick fog.

  The London Eye, a huge wheel for people to travel on to see the sights, was now lying on its side. The Globe, a recreation of Shakespeare’s theatre, lay in ruins. Southwark Cathedral, which had been without a roof since a fire had all but destroyed it, was now a blackened ruin.

  As the barge approached London Bridge, Alfred could make out some figures standing amongst boxes and tents. The bridge, like the others along the Thames, was home to these poor souls. As the boat passed underneath, there were shouts and a barrage of sticks and stones hit the vessel.