Eddy Stone and the Epic Holiday Mash-Up Page 9

  “The castle?” said the Chevalier. “And what exactly is your business there?”

  “What business is it of yours what our business is?” said the Captain.

  “It is the business of la Résistance to know all the business concerning the Emperor – may his undergarments itch intolerably. We are sworn to overthrow his cruel tyranny – and in the meantime to think up as many ways as we can to get on his nerves.”

  “Then you shouldn’t be fighting us,” said Eddy. “We’re here to break into the castle—”

  “And slice him into tiny pieces?” asked the Chevalier.

  “Not quite,” said Eddy. “To steal a ruby ring.”

  “Tiny pieces is better,” said the Chevalier. “But the ring will do.”

  “Then maybe you can help us?”

  “Our enemy’s enemies are our friends. And your companion with the thick head is very brave – he did not flinch when we set about him. He did not snivel to be spared. Just the sort that la Résistance needs. So of course we will help you.”

  “First, we need to get inside his castle,” said Eddy.

  “Aha! We know a special way,” said the Chevalier. “Come with us.”

  “That map is rubbish,” said the Penguin, as the raisins led them through a wood. “The first island that’s supposed to be dangerous is the first island that isn’t. Here be monsters, indeed.”

  “You’ve perked up again,” said Eddy.

  “If two bits of dried fruit are all it has got, then I reckon this is the perfect place to be a hero.”

  They reached the edge of the wood. The Emperor’s castle stood before them, gloomy and glowering over the landscape.

  “The defences are strong,” said the Chevalier. “But sharp brains can pick the lock that would defeat brute force. Come.”

  He led them to the foot of the wall, took a deep breath, and then shouted, “What is the difference between the Emperor and a bucket of horse manure? The bucket!”

  “What is he doing?” asked Eddy.

  “Insulting the Emperor – may he get shampoo in his eyes at bathtime,” said Plonque.

  “Why is the Emperor’s face like lumpy mashed potato?” shouted the Chevalier. “I don’t know why, it just is!”

  “I like it,” said the Penguin. “But I’m not sure they can hear you inside. Let me have a go, this is right up my street. Stand back everybody – it’s hero time. I’m not saying the Emperor is stupid,” he yelled, “but if brains were dynamite, he couldn’t blow his hat off!”

  “That’s very good,” said the Chevalier.

  “Here’s another,” said the Penguin. “What is the – hang on, where did the ground go?”

  The ground had not gone anywhere. But the Penguin had. Hoisted into the air, his flippers flapped in the breeze. He couldn’t see the hand that had lifted him, but the other Codcakers could – at least, they could see the studded leather glove that the hand was wearing. And they could see the shining chain mail covering the massive muscular body that the hand belonged to. And the featureless helmet that covered the face of the guard who was now dangling the Penguin in mid-air. Even worse, they could see the guard’s thirty brawny companions, because they were now surrounded by them.

  With a snarl and a grunt, the first guard slung the Penguin over his shoulder and stomped off towards the castle gate. His thirty companions silently lowered thirty vicious-looking spears and prodded them at the other Codcakers.

  “I think,” the Penguin shouted back at them, “they want you to follow us.”

  The heavy gate slammed shut behind them. They were standing in a large courtyard, its high walls made of dull grey stones that seemed to suck the sunlight out of the air. Eddy shivered in their shadow. He looked round to see if there was any way to escape – supposing they got a chance to escape – but the Emperor’s castle appeared to be as impossible to break out of as it was to break in to.

  The guards raised their spears and stepped back. Their leader tossed the Penguin off his shoulder. He sailed through the air with a squawk and landed at Eddy’s feet.

  The Penguin picked himself up, dusted himself down, and said, “If that’s flying, you can keep it. It’s rubbish.”

  “Voilà,” said the raisin Chevalier François Cabernet Lalande-de-Pomerol. “We are inside the Emperor’s castle, just as I promised.”

  “You forgot to mention that we would be under armed guard,” said the Captain. “This is bad.”

  “No – our position is excellent,” said the Chevalier. “Now we have tricked them into bringing us here, the most difficult part is over. All that remains is to overpower these brutes – and what is that to a man of courage like you? And then we will decide what unpleasantness to inflict on the Emperor – may his bed sheets always have crumbs in them.”

  “Never mind crumbs,” said the Captain. “We’re in a right pickle. There’s a difference between courage and stupidity, and trying to fight these guards would definitely be stupid.”

  “Sorry to break up your little chat,” said a voice behind them.

  They turned to see a smiling young man in a smart purple uniform.

  “You must be the new prisoners,” said the young man. “Lovely to meet you. As you will see from my badge, my name is Robin, and I’ll be your Prisoner Orientation Officer – or P.O.O. for short.”

  “I’m glad you explained that,” said the Penguin. “I wondered why you had Robin Poo on your jacket.”

  “A joke,” chuckled Robin. “Well done, you. Not many prisoners manage to keep a sense of humour. Now, I’m here to guide you through the trial and punishment process. So, any questions – fire away!”

  “Trial?” said the Captain.

  “And punishment?” added Eddy.

  “Punishment, yes,” said Robin. “After you are found guilty.”

  “Not us,” said the Crew. “We’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “And another one,” laughed Robin. “You guys crack me up. Everybody who is put on trial here is found guilty. It’s a very efficient system. And then you get executed.”

  “Executed?” said the Penguin.

  “Executed, punished, whatever. Same thing. But now we really must get on. Follow me, please.”

  A menacing shake of the guards’ spears persuaded the Codcakers to do as Robin asked. He led them into a vast hall, thronged with people. More guards stood in front of the iron bars of a prison cell.

  “Now,” said Robin, “if you could just pop yourselves in there for me? I’m sure the Emperor won’t be long. Don’t worry about the paperwork, I’ll handle that – and any last words and personal belongings you would like sent to your loved ones.” And with a cheerful wave, he left the guards to shove them into the cell and bolt the door.

  “This is now badder than bad,” said the Captain.

  “It is superb!” piped up the Chevalier. “It is our chance to inspire la Résistance. They will speak of how we comrades stood together behind the brave pirate Captain who laughed in the face of the Emperor and challenged him to do his worst.”

  “Well,” said the Captain. “Maybe not his very worst.”

  “They will paint pictures of us!” the Chevalier continued. “They will tell their children stories about us!”

  “All about how we were horribly executed. Very nice for the kiddies,” added the Penguin.

  “Shhh!” said Eddy. “I think he’s coming!”

  CLACK CLACK CLACK.

  They heard the sound of boots clumping down a corridor.

  CLACK CLACK CLACK.

  With a mighty blare of trumpets and a cry of “Make way for the Emperor!” the crowd in the room broke into cheers and applause and a flurry of curtsies and bows. Some of them bent so low that they touched the floor with their noses.

  Peering through the throng, Eddy saw a very short man wearing a very large crown enter the room. He was dressed in a velvet jacket studded with precious stones, embroidered silk trousers, and soft leather slippers that padded silently across the floor.
Behind him walked two uniformed servants. One carried a large slab of marble. The other held a leather boot in each hand, which he beat on the marble slab to make the sound of the heavy footsteps that had announced the Emperor’s approach.

  The Emperor padded towards a tall throne at the end of the room. Finely dressed ladies scattered rose petals at his feet. Caged songbirds twittered as he passed. Exotic perfumes were sprayed into the air. Trays of delicious nibbles and glasses of thirst-quenching cordials were offered to him. The Emperor would have needed a heart of stone not to be delighted by the elaborate show.

  And a heart of stone was just what he had. He kicked the rose petals aside. He shouted at the birds to shut up. He coughed at the perfumes, spat out a nibble and dashed the drinks to the ground. When he reached the throne, he turned. His face was a scrunch of bad temper.

  “Useless!” he yelled. “You’re all useless! Who do I have to waste my precious time on today?”

  Robin stepped forward. “There’s a trial, Your Magnitude. Prisoners.”

  “Oh!” said the Emperor, sitting down and perking up. “That’s more like it. Have they been very bad?”

  “That’s for you to decide, Majesty.”

  “Yes it is, isn’t it?” He rubbed his hands together and turned to the prison cell. “Well, what have you villainous vermin got to say?”

  “What are we supposed to have done?” asked Eddy, his voice trembling.

  “You are supposed to have obeyed the law, of course. If you don’t know that you must have been very badly brought up. But this trial is not about what you are supposed to have done. This trial is about what you have actually done.”

  “And what have we actually done?”

  “You tell me,” said the Emperor. “You were there. You saw it all. You know all the wherefores and whys. So. Speak up.” He sat back, looking very pleased with himself. The whole room broke into applause.

  “A very subtle line of questioning, Your Immensity, if I may say so,” said Robin.

  “Yes, it was rather brilliant, wasn’t it?” agreed the Emperor.

  “All we did was land on the island,” said the Captain.

  “Aha!” said the Emperor. “So, you admit the whole dastardly plot. You invaded the Empire, no doubt intending to seize the throne, paint a moustache and funny glasses on my portrait, and rob my poor subjects of their beloved Emperor.”

  “Oh, stick it in a sandwich and choke on it,” a raisiny voice piped up from the prison cell. “Your subjects hate you.”

  “As you have not tried to bore me with a lot of pointless facts, I shall be merciful,” the Emperor continued. “The sentence is death.”

  “You call that merciful?” said Eddy.

  “However,” added the Emperor, “because you are so very smelly, I have decided to double the sentence. That fishy whiff is horrible. And let that be a lesson to you next time.”

  As the room broke into applause again, the Chevalier squeaked, “Now is the moment, Captain. Now you can laugh in his face.”

  “I don’t see the joke,” said the Captain.

  “It was the one about not being found guilty, remember?” said Robin cheerfully.

  “What will happen to us?” asked Eddy. His voice wobbled in his throat.

  “Well,” said Robin, “the Emperor has to decide how to have you killed. With a bit of luck, it will be swift and painless.”

  “Executioner!” the Emperor shouted. “Bring in The Beast!”

  “Ah!” said Robin. “Oh, well, never mind.”

  It wasn’t quite the roar of a lion, and it wasn’t exactly the rasp of an electric saw, and you wouldn’t have mistaken it for the slobbering of a huge dog, but there was a bit of all three in the terrible noise that was coming along the corridor.

  Something heavy was being dragged along. Something that didn’t like being dragged along and was going to make sure that everyone had got that loud and clear.

  The Codcakers all knew that this must be The Beast. They didn’t know what kind of beast it was, but they were all sure that they were going to find out far, far too soon, and that when they did they would wish they hadn’t.

  Four guards staggered into the hall, grunting and sweating as they hauled an iron cage on wheels behind them.

  The creature inside the cage was nowhere near as small as a lion. Its teeth were far less blunt than an electric saw. Its drooling jaws were not as dry as a slobbering dog. And as for its appearance…it wasn’t just the mean look in its bloodshot yellow eyes, the greasy green fur that hung in matted clumps like a filthy rug, the black tongue that lolled out of its slack slavering jaws, the torn and dirty claws sticking out of its huge front paws, or the crust of snot around its scaly snout. No, it was the way that all of these combined that made it so hideous.

  That, and the farting.

  The Beast, whatever it was, was a thing that only its own mother could love. And even she would have needed to be half-blind and to have lost her sense of smell.

  A waft of old cabbage and bad eggs spread through the room.

  “And he said we smelled bad,” said Eddy.

  “Behold!” the Emperor shouted. “The mighty Beast! Has it been fed?”

  A man in a zookeeper’s uniform with a black hood over his head stepped out from behind the cage.

  “Not since yesterday, Majesty.”

  “Excellent – hang on, are you the zookeeper or the executioner?”

  “Both, Majesty. You fired the previous pair.”

  “Oh, yes. They were useless,” said the Emperor. “So it must be hungry.”

  “It’s very rude to talk about me like I’m not here,” said the Beast, in a sulky voice. “I can speak for myself.”

  “From both ends, unfortunately,” said the Emperor. “Beast, are you hungry?”

  “Might be,” said the Beast. “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Is something wrong with it, Keepercutioner? I mean, Exezootioner?” said the Emperor. “It seems very moody.”

  “It’s at a difficult age,” said the Exezootioner.

  “You’re doing it again,” grumped the Beast.

  “Put the cage in position,” the Emperor commanded.

  The guards pushed the Beast’s cage up to the Codcakers’ cell, with their doors in line.

  “Vive la Résistance!” squeaked the Chevalier. “You may kill our bodies, but you will never kill our spirit!”

  “The bodies are quite enough for me, thank you,” replied the Emperor. “Guards – release the Beast!”

  The guards raised the door on the Beast’s cage. All that stood between the Codcakers and the terrible jaws of the farting Beast was the door of their own cell. And the guards were already lifting the catch that held it in place.

  Eddy could feel his heart thumping as if it was trying to break out of his chest.

  “Goodbye, Captain,” said the Crew. “It has been an honour to serve with you. I’d like to say it has been a pleasure as well, but in the circumstances that would be idiotic.”

  “I’m sorry,” said the Captain quietly. “Our story wasn’t meant to end like this.”

  The prisoners huddled together as the cell door slid aside. The Beast lifted its broad bottom, let out an enormous blast of wind, and shambled towards them. They could smell its hot breath, as fragrant as a roasted dustbin. The Beast loomed over them, its jaws dripping.

  Eddy pressed himself tight against the Captain. He felt a hand grasp his and squeeze it hard. His body was jangling with energy, yelling at him to run away. But he was caught in the cell, with nowhere to go.

  It was all wrong. He shouldn’t be here. He should be on holiday with his parents. His stupid parents who were always too busy. He thought of his dad and that way he always hogged the TV remote. And his mum, who still pulled his socks up like he was a toddler. His mum. She would never even know what had happened to him.

  “Mum,” he said quietly.

  Eddy closed his eyes an
d waited for the snap of jaws. The chomp of teeth. He hoped it would all be over quickly. Please let it be over quickly.

  Eddy flinched as he felt a string of sticky drool land in his hair and run down his face. The Beast pressed its snot-crusted snout against his cheek and took a deep sniff.

  Eddy screwed his eyes tight and waited for the bite.

  But nothing came.

  He lifted one eyelid and peeped out.

  “It’s fish,” said the Beast.

  “Don’t like fish.”

  “What do you mean, it’s fish?” asked the Emperor. “Look at it. It’s three human beings and a weird bird.”

  “And two deadly raisins,” yelled the Chevalier and Plonque.

  “It stinks like fish. I’m not eating it.”

  “It’s got legs,” said the Emperor. “When did you ever see a fish with legs?”

  “There are lots of things that I’ve never seen,” the Beast answered in a sad voice. “Balloons. A windmill. The seaside.”

  The Beast flumped back on its fat smelly bottom, a picture of misery.

  “Never seen the seaside,” said Eddy. “Poor you.”

  “It’s just dungeon, cage, dungeon, cage, day after day,” said the Beast. “Never any fun.”

  “That’s so sad,” said Eddy.

  “Stop that,” said the Emperor. “I know what you’re doing. You think that if you pretend to feel sorry for the Beast he won’t want to eat you.”

  “I already don’t want to eat him,” huffed the Beast, “because he is a fish.”

  “How can he be a fish?” asked the Emperor. “He’s got clothes on.”

  “Clothes. Batter. Breadcrumbs. What’s the difference?” asked the Beast. “They disguise your food but one bite and – yuck. It’s still fish.”

  “There’s no fooling you,” said Eddy. “Inside these clothes we’re all yucky fish. Isn’t that right, guys?”

  The Codcakers all loudly agreed, and tried to look as much like fish as possible. Which is quite hard, when you think about it.