The Castle With Hiccups Chapter 1

The Castle with Hiccups.

 

Chapter One.

 

Hiccups.

 

The Castle definitely hiccupped.

It did it once on Monday, twice on Tuesday, and again on Wednesday. It was a very heavy old Castle, so it never jumped far, but it was enough to send all the pots and pans crashing to the floor in the kitchens. The strangest thing of all was that while the Castle moved, the countryside around it stayed perfectly still.

King Oswald was not happy.

The Tuesday hiccup bounced him clean out of bed.

Queen Jessamy was not pleased either, the Wednesday hiccup made her drop an entire line of stitches.

Thomas the kitchen boy was not pleased at all. He was the one who had to pick up the pots and pans every single time.

Worse still, before and after each hiccup came a dreadful noise from somewhere deep below the Castle.

The before‑noise was a long, mournful “Hoooooooo!”

The after‑noise was a high, squeaky “Eeeeeeeeeeee!”

So everyone was very relieved when Thursday and Friday passed without a single wobble.

But on Saturday morning the Castle hiccupped again. Pots and pans leapt off shelves, slates slid from the roof, and King Oswald was bounced straight off his throne. His morning tea went everywhere. When he tried to stand, he slipped in the spillage and sprained his ankle. He said several very unkinglike words.

That was the final straw for the Castle staff. They packed their bags and marched down the hill into town. Only four people stayed behind: Henry the Butler, Bertram the Footman, Thomas the kitchen boy, and Princess Jasmine.

Henry stayed because he hadn’t noticed the Castle moving at all. It wobbled for him most of the time anyway, especially after a few glasses of the King’s best port.

Bertram stayed because he thought being the only footman left might mean a promotion.

Thomas stayed because Mary the chambermaid told him someone had to keep an eye on the Princess.

The Princess stayed because it was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.

King Oswald stayed because he refused to be seen being pushed through the streets in a wheelchair.

Queen Jessamy stayed because the King stayed.

Two others remained: the Court Magician and Princess Jasmine’s old Nurse. The Magician had stayed because one of the hiccups had knocked over a spell he was working on, and the poor man had forgotten everything, including who he was. He had wandered off somewhere in the Castle and no one had seen him since. Nurse stayed because she would never leave the Princess alone.

Thomas and the Princess made toast and omelettes for lunch and served them in the throne room.

“It’s like picnicking indoors,” said the Princess happily.

Saturday passed without another hiccup. So did Sunday. Hopes rose.

They were dashed early on Monday morning when the Castle hiccupped once more. Pots and pans crashed, slates fell, and the dreadful noises echoed again.

Henry had just served breakfast, toast and boiled eggs made by Thomas and the Princess, when the Castle lurched. The dishes slid off the table. Thomas was sent for to clean up the mess.

As he swept up the broken crockery, he muttered to himself, “I don’t know why someone doesn’t go and look in the Dungeons.”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

The King heard. “What did you say?”

Thomas looked up quickly. “I said this is upsetting Nurse’s bunions, sire.”

“No, you didn’t. You muttered something about the Dungeons. Come on, spit it out.”

Thomas swallowed. “Someone ought to look in the Dungeons, sire. That’s where the noise is coming from.”

“Good idea, my boy. Send for the Field Marshal.”

The Field Marshal was fetched. The kingdom was small and only needed fifteen part‑time soldiers. The Field Marshal was also the local fishmonger. He arrived red‑faced, wearing his apron, and still holding the large fish he had been filleting.

“Sire?” he said, bowing low.

The smell of fish was overpowering. King Oswald, who disliked fish at the best of times, held his nose and waved the man further away.

“Find your men and examine the Dungeons,” he said, or tried to. With his nose pinched shut it came out as, “Fide yer meb add examid the Dudgods.”

The Field Marshal had a problem. He was slightly deaf, ever since one of the soldiers had fired a pistol next to his ear. Normally he managed by lip‑reading, and the King usually shouted. But now the King’s mouth was hidden behind his hand, and he was too far away to hear properly.

Not wanting to ask for a repeat, the Field Marshal saluted smartly. “Yes, sire. Straight away, sire.”

Then he hurried off to make sense of what he thought he’d heard.

He decided the King must want the soldiers to march round the Castle and inspect the walls. Everyone knew the Castle was behaving oddly, so it seemed reasonable. He gathered his men, marched them round the Castle, found nothing unusual, and proudly reported back.

King Oswald sent for Thomas.

“I have had the Dungeons searched,” he said, “and nothing has been found.”

“That’s strange,” Thomas said. “May I ask a question, sire?”

“Of course.”

“Why did the Field Marshal and his men search round the outside of the Castle when the Dungeons are inside, below the cellars?”

The King’s good mood vanished. “The Field Marshal is so deaf it’s impossible to make him hear anything. He’ll have to go, but he does sell such good fish, and the Queen likes fish…” He sighed. “I know. I’ll send Bertram.”

Bertram arrived, bowing so low his nose nearly touched the floor. He was eager to please and terrified of everything.

“Go and search the Dungeons!” King Oswald shouted.

“Yes, sire! Straight away, sire! Right now, sire!” Bertram said, without moving an inch.

“Well, go!”

“Yes, sire, going now, sire.”

“GO!”

Bertram fled.

A moment later there was a timid knock. The door opened a crack and Bertram’s head appeared.

“Please, sire… may I take a candle?”

King Oswald snatched a candle from the mantelpiece and hurled it at the door.

“Oh, thank you, sire!” Bertram picked it up and vanished.

Another knock. Another crack of the door.

“If it please your Majesty… may I light the candle?”

The King screamed, grabbed a tinderbox, and threw it. The door closed again.

The door opened a third time. King Oswald flung his crown at it.

“Have I upset you, my dear?” asked Queen Jessamy, picking up the dented crown. She wheeled in a trolley with the tea things. With all the servants gone, she was rather enjoying herself.

The Castle hiccupped again, spilling tea everywhere. Thomas came to clean up.

He was still sweeping when Bertram burst in, white‑faced, trembling, cobwebs in his hair and a smudge on his nose. He opened his mouth. No sound came out. He tried again. Nothing.

“Don’t stand there like a goldfish,” snapped the King. “Speak!”

Bertram gulped. “Sire… your Majesty… I resign. Now.”

And he ran for his life.

Thomas was sent after him, but Bertram was already halfway to town.

“And we still don’t know what’s in the Dungeons,” grumbled the King. “Who else is left?”

“Henry the Butler,” said the Queen. “He spends most of his time in the cellars. He ought to know what’s going on.”

Henry arrived, swaying gently. He had been sampling the King’s brandy.

“You sent for me, sire?”

“Yes. Go down into the Dungeons and find out why the Castle has hiccups.”

“Yes, sire.” Henry turned carefully and left.

Half an hour passed.

Henry had started bravely enough, but on the way to the Dungeons he had to pass through the Wine Cellars. Being an old man, he felt he needed something to strengthen him for the steep stairs. One glass led to another, and it seemed a shame not to finish the bottle. By the time he remembered his mission, he was halfway through the next one. He staggered to the top of the Dungeon stairs, peered down into the darkness, decided he had gone far enough, and returned to the throne room.

“Your Majesty,” he said slowly, “I looked at the dun… hic… the dun… hic… cellar… and I could not see anything.”

He made a stately exit and collapsed in his pantry.

Thomas put a pillow under his head and returned upstairs.

“Ah, there you are,” said the King. “Henry has looked in the Dungeons and found nothing.”

“Sorry, sire,” said Thomas. “But Mr Henry only went as far as the top of the steps. He didn’t actually go into the Dungeons.”

The King groaned. “He’ll have to go.”

Queen Jessamy sighed. “But he’s been the butler for years. We can’t simply get rid of him.”

“We’ll think about that later. Now, who is going to look in the Dungeons?”

“I think I’m the only one left, sire,” said Thomas. “So it will have to be me.”

“Right. Off you go, then.”

Thomas bowed and left. Princess Jasmine met him in the corridor.

“Hello, Thomas. What’s happening?”

“I’m going down to the Dungeons to see why the Castle is jumping up and down.”

“Do you think something’s down there?”

Thomas shrugged. “It seems possible.”

“Well, be careful. No one’s been down there for years. It’s supposed to be haunted.”

Thomas promised he would and opened the throne room door for her.

He lit a candle and made his way down the dusty, narrow, steep stairs. Footprints in the dust showed Bertram had been there, and fled.

Thomas walked slowly. Not because he was afraid, of course. He simply didn’t want to bang his head on the ceiling. (The ceiling was, in fact, far above his head.)

The door at the bottom was unlocked, and open. The smell of fish and cabbages was very strong.

The corridor beyond had small rooms on one side. They didn’t look much like cells. None of them had doors.

Thomas stepped into the first room. Empty.

He stepped into the second, and almost jumped out of his skin. Someone was in it.

He backed out, heart pounding, trying to gather his courage.

But the figure stepped out first… and spoke.