The Castle With Hiccups Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

 

In the Cellar.

 

“Excuse me,” said a voice behind Thomas, “can you tell me who I am?”

Thomas spun round, and sagged with relief.

It was only the Court Magician.

“You’re the Court Magician,” Thomas told him.

“Thank you,” said the Magician politely. He paused. “Er… what did I just ask you?”

Thomas sighed. “Never mind. Go back up the stairs.”

The Magician turned obediently, climbed one step, then stopped and stared upwards.

“Where was I going?” he asked.

“Just sit on the stairs,” Thomas said firmly. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

The Magician sat down, muttering, “What did he say my name was? He told me to do something… I think… I wonder who he is. Who am I?” He scratched his head and looked very lost indeed.

Thomas left him there and continued along the Dungeon corridor. Here the dust lay thick and untouched. Bertram clearly hadn’t come this far. He had probably seen, or heard, the Magician and fled.

All the rooms were empty. Thomas was about to give up when he reached the very last door at the end of the passage. He tried the handle. It turned, but the door stayed firmly shut. Locked.

He sniffed. A strong smell drifted through the crack, fish mixed with rotting seaweed. It smelled exactly like the beach after a storm, when the tide has thrown up heaps of sea‑stuff and left it to dry in the sun.

Thomas pressed his ear to the keyhole. A strange bubbling, gurgling noise came from inside, like the great kitchen kettle boiling away, mixed with the snores of the cook asleep by the fire.

There was nothing more he could do without the keys.

He went back upstairs, collected the confused Magician, and delivered him to Princess Jasmine’s old Nurse. She promised to look after him. For her it was like having a baby again. The poor man couldn’t even remember how to feed himself. She sat him at the Nursery table, tied a bib around his neck, and spooned egg and toast into him. Nurse hadn’t looked so happy in years.

Thomas went to report to the King.

King Oswald sat on his throne with his injured leg on a stool. His mood had not improved.

“Well?” he barked as Thomas entered.

“I’ve searched all the Dungeons except one, sire. There’s something in the last room, but the door is locked. I’ll look again if anyone knows where the keys are.”

The King frowned. “The Captain of the Guard usually has them, but when everyone went to the Summer Palace he gave them to me. There are a lot on the bunch, they shouldn’t be hard to find.”

Thomas helped him search the throne. No keys.

They searched the throne room. Still no keys.

Queen Jessamy entered with a tray of tea and biscuits.

“Have you lost something, dear?”

“The Castle keys,” said the King. “Captain Smirke gave them to me, but we can’t find them.”

“You threw them at the Magician,” said the Queen cheerfully, “when he accidentally turned your breakfast egg into a bunch of flowers. He took them away with him.”

“Oh dear,” said Thomas. “That might be a problem. The Magician still isn’t himself. He probably won’t remember where he put them.”

“Well fetch him here and we’ll ask him,” ordered the King.

The Magician arrived with Nurse close behind.

“Who am I?” he asked.

King Oswald snapped, “You’re the Court Magician, and you’ve got the Castle keys!”

To everyone’s astonishment, the Magician burst into tears.

Nurse swept forward. “There is no need to be nasty to the poor little lamb,” she scolded.

King Oswald shrank back. “No, Nurse. I mean, yes, Nurse.”

She led the sobbing Magician away.

“Now what do we do?” groaned the King.

“I’ll search his room,” said Thomas.

“I’ll help,” said Princess Jasmine.

“Good idea,” said the King.

They climbed the spiral staircase to the Magician’s tower room. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books and neatly labelled jars. The Magician was a tidy man, even his chaos was organised.

They searched everywhere. No keys.

“We need a spell to give him back his memory,” said Princess Jasmine. “You look at the boxes on the table, I’ll check the books.”

“I… can’t read,” Thomas said quietly.

Princess Jasmine stared.

“Kitchen boys don’t go to school,” he explained.

“Never mind,” she said gently. “When this is over, I’ll teach you.”

She picked up a book lying open on the work table. The page read: A Spell to Make Things Clear.

“This must be the spell he was working on when the Castle hiccupped,” she said. She read down the page. “The last line says: ‘To break the spell, invert.’”

“What does ‘invert’ mean?” asked Thomas.

“Turn upside down,” she said. She picked up a glass beaker beside the book. It held a greenish liquid. “But if we turn it upside down, it’ll spill.”

“Not if we do this,” said Thomas. He placed a piece of card over the top, flipped the beaker upside down, and not a drop escaped.

“Very clever,” said Princess Jasmine. “But now what?”

They waited. Nothing happened.

She turned the beaker upright again. Still nothing.

“Maybe you have to get it out while it’s upside down,” Thomas suggested. “Turn the beaker over without turning the liquid over.”

“There must be a spell for that.” Princess Jasmine flipped through the book. “Here, ‘How to Turn a Container Over.’ Perfect.”

She grabbed the Magician’s wand. “Here goes. I hope this doesn’t turn the whole Castle upside down.”

She tapped the beaker and muttered the spell. Thomas only caught the last word: “Invert.”

The beaker flipped itself over, but the liquid stayed still. There was a flash of blue light, a puff of orange smoke, and the liquid vanished, leaving a single white pill in the bottom.

Thomas tipped it into his hand. “Let’s hope this works. We’d better give it to him quickly or your father will be even angrier.”

They ran to the Nursery. Nurse was feeding the Magician a boiled egg with toast soldiers. When he finished, they gave him the pill with warm milk.

For a moment nothing happened.

Then he looked surprised.

Then puzzled.

Then he hiccupped.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Thomas explained everything.

“Ah yes,” said the Magician. “I remember now.”

Princess Jasmine clapped her hands. “Wonderful! Now, where are the Castle keys?”

“They’re in the best place for them,” said the Magician.

“Where?” asked Thomas. “We’ve looked everywhere.”

“In the lock of the front door,” said the Magician.

They raced through the corridors.

Sure enough, there they were.

Thomas took the keys to the King.

But by then the King and Queen were having afternoon tea, and Princess Jasmine was required to join them. The matter of the Dungeons was forgotten for the moment, and Thomas found himself doing the work of footman, cook, kitchen maid, and kitchen boy all at once.

By the time he finished the washing up, he was far too tired to go back down the Dungeon stairs. He tidied the kitchen, put away the pots and pans, and went to bed.

At least the Castle hadn’t hiccupped again.

The strange Hoooooooo and Eeeeeeeee noises had not been heard.

The smell of fish and rotting seaweed was a little stronger, but Thomas assumed that was because he had left the cellar door open. The next morning Thomas got up early and made the King’s breakfast. He had to serve it himself, as Mr Henry was feeling “a bit under the weather”, which, judging by the empty brandy bottle in the pantry, was putting it mildly.

King Oswald was in an especially foul mood. With almost all the servants gone, he had been forced to find his own clothes and dress himself. This was not easy with one leg heavily bandaged. He was now eating breakfast wearing odd socks and a shirt that was inside out. He was not happy.

Thomas decided this was not the moment to remind him about the keys.

When the dishes were cleared, Thomas went in search of Princess Jasmine. If anyone could persuade the King to hand over the keys, it was her.

Halfway up the stairs he heard the familiar “Hooooooooo!”

The Castle hiccupped.

From the kitchen came the crash of falling dishes.

Thomas sighed. “More tidying up.”

Then came the usual “Eeeeeeeeeeee!”

He ran the rest of the way to the throne room. King Oswald was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the cushions from the throne. Thomas helped him up, settled him back in place, and retrieved the crown from where it had rolled under a table.

“I thought you were supposed to be finding out why that happens,” snapped the King.

“Yes, sire,” said Thomas carefully.

“Then why haven’t you done it?”

“You didn’t give me the keys, sire.”

“Idiot!” King Oswald hurled the bunch of keys at him.

Thomas caught them neatly. Years of dodging pans thrown by the cook had made him very nimble.

“Thank you, sire,” he said sweetly, and slipped out of the room before the King could find something else to throw.

He hurried down towards the Dungeons, passing the Nursery on the way. The Magician was peering out through the door. He was dressed in a blue sailor suit far too small for him.

“Help,” he whispered. “Get me out of here.”

Thomas slowed. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s Nurse,” the Magician whispered desperately. “She’s hidden my clothes. She won’t let me leave. And she makes me take cod liver oil. Please save me.”

From inside the Nursery came Nurse’s voice:

“Lambkin, where are you? It’s time for your cod liver oil. If you’re a good boy you can have a sweetie!”

“The worst part,” the Magician moaned, “is that I loathe sweets, and she insists I have one.”

“Never mind,” said Thomas. “I’ll rescue you after I’ve looked in the Dungeons.”

Before the Magician could reply, Nurse swooped out, grabbed him by the collar, and whisked him back inside.

“You naughty boy, hiding from Nursy‑wursy like that! You shall have a double dose of cod liver oil and no sweet!”

Thomas smiled sympathetically and continued down the stairs.

The smell of rotting seaweed and fish was even stronger now.

He reached the locked door at the end of the passage. He tried the keys one by one until the very last one fitted. The lock was stiff. The door was stiffer. It probably hadn’t been opened for years.

Thomas pushed it open and stepped inside.

He froze.

Right in front of him was a huge, greenish, scaly leg. It ended in wickedly sharp claws on the floor and stretched up into the darkness above, disappearing into the shadows of the ceiling.

Thomas gulped.

He backed out very quietly, closed the door even more quietly, and then fled up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him.

He forgot all about rescuing the poor Magician.