The Eggshell War

                  The Queen’s breakfast egg is ruined again, the King’s archery goes awry, and by 10.09 a national disaster has struck.

 

                          The Eggshell War.

 

                               Chapter One.

 

                        An Unfortunate Beginning.

 

          It began on a Tuesday. 10.05 in the morning to be precise. The exact time is known because Mrs. Overboylanbern had just gently dropped the Queen’s breakfast egg into a pan of boiling water. Queen Rawtensmellunterernos liked her egg boiled for precisely three minutes, not a second more, not a second less. The cook glanced at the kitchen clock, which was the most accurate clock in the kingdom and always correct.

          King Shilee Retyrink was in the garden practicing his archery. This was his favourite sport. He had eaten his breakfast at the more normal time of 8 o’clock. The couple of hours between his rising and his wife’s were the only peaceful ones of the day.

Eet Humplepie, the king’s footman, was standing in his usual place, just behind the target. King Shilee had only one more arrow to fire. It was Eet’s job to collect up the arrows when the king had finished.

          You might think that standing behind the target was rather a silly thing to do and so it would have been with a normal bowman. However, it was the second safest place to be when King Shilee was shooting. In front of the target was safer still, but Eet was far too polite to even seem to suggest that the king was not a good archer.

The garden sparrows, blackbirds and starlings had long since learnt that the best place to be was sitting on top of the target. The cheeky robin usually perched himself on the king's crown. Shilee always had an audience of birds waiting until he had finished so that they could fly around the garden in safety once again.

This Tuesday, however, was different. This Tuesday was about to become a National Disaster. Shilee notched his last arrow, pulled back the string, took careful aim, saw it happen and gasped in horror.

"Oh, I say, look at that!"

He closed his eyes and let go. The arrow sped fast and almost true, right over the top of the target between a sparrow and a blackbird. It gave Eet’s hair the neatest centre parting that you have ever seen. The birds did not wait to see what had happened, they flew.

"Thank you, sire," said the footman politely. "I have always wanted....Oh dear." He too had seen it.

King Shilee opened his eyes and looked again. Then he closed them again. "Tell me it is not true." He commanded.

Eet bowed and said. "It is not true, sire."

"Thank heavens," said the King and looked again. "Aaaah! But it is true."

"I am afraid so, your Majesty," agreed Eet sadly.

"The Queen is going to be absolutely fuming. Oh dear! Oh dear! What am I going to say to her?" The king was in a bit of a panic.

Eet did not answer, it was not his place to give the king advice. Personally, he would have gone and hidden, rather than face the Queen’s bad temper.

Meanwhile, Queen Rawtensmellunterernos, or Queen Rawty, as she was known, but only behind her back, was lying in bed awaiting her breakfast. The curtains were still closed. She considered that the early morning sun was bad for her delicate skin. Her maid, Blonden Busty would open the curtains when she brought the Queen’s breakfast.

At 10.09 precisely, Blonden knocked the door, opened it, came into the room, placed the tray on the bedside cabinet, went to the windows and drew back the curtains. The Queen liked to enjoy her favourite view with her breakfast. Blonden did not look out of the window, she was too nervous.

Queen Rawty did not look out of the window either, not straight away. She was busy examining her egg, to see if any little bits of eggshell had fallen into the yolk. This was something that had happened with her last six breakfast eggs.

The Court Magician, Sir Lite Ovand, had been ordered to find a spell that would neatly and cleanly remove the top of the egg. He had tried every morning since, without success.

This morning, as usual, there was a piece of eggshell floating in the yolk. That was the reason for Blonden’s nervousness. She was the one who suffered most from the Queen’s royal rage.

Queen Rawty took a deep breath ready to bawl and scream her anger. As she did her gaze rested on the view through the window. Her eyes widened with horror, her face went as white as the sheets on her bed and she fainted.

Blonden stood and stared at her mistress. She had expected a right royal row over the egg, but not a faint. Everyone knows it is impossible to faint when you are already lying down. She turned to the Queen's dressing table to get the Queen’s smelling salts. She too looked out of the window, gasped, threw her hands in the air and fled screaming. She completely forgot about the Queen who lay groaning in her bed.

Mrs. Overboylanbern was tidying up in the kitchen and waiting for the Queen to send for her to complain, when Blonden burst in, weeping and wailing. At first the cook thought that the maid was even more upset than usual by the Queen, but the girl only shook her head and moaned,

"Outside, outside!"

The stout cook sternly sat the wildly sobbing maid on a stool and marched outside carrying her largest rolling pin. Nobody was going to upset her staff like that, except perhaps herself.

As soon as she was outside the kitchen door, she too stopped in horror. She dropped her rolling pin, flung her apron over her face to hide the horrible sight and fled.

This was not a sensible thing to do as she could not see where she was going. As you would expect she ran straight into someone. Actually, it was more than one, it was three to be exact. The three persons so rudely barged into were the Prime Minister, the Right Honourable Stabemin De Bak, the Lord Chancellor, Lord Taxem Allard and the Home Secretary, the Right Honourable Floggem Anangem. They were hurrying to the Palace to inform the king of the disaster that had overtaken the kingdom.

 The three distinguished gentlemen and the cook finished up in an untidy pile at the front door of the Palace. The National Disaster though, was far too important to spend any time lying on the floor arguing about who was to blame. Top hats were picked up, knees dusted and ties straightened. Mrs. Overboylanbern did not put on her top hat, or straighten her tie, she did not normally wear them.

She certainly did not dust her knees as that would have been most unladylike. No disaster was bad enough to make her forget that she was a lady. She just sat on the steps and wept into her apron.

The three Cabinet Ministers entered the Palace and walked along the corridors to the Throne Room. In spite of the seriousness of the situation, they were far too dignified to run. King Shilee was already there, slumped on the throne, head in hands. Eet stood behind the throne staring at the floor. Just looking at him you could see that he was wishing he was somewhere else.

The Prime Minister, as befitted his rank, entered the room first. He bowed low and spoke in a grave voice. "Sire, A National Disaster has occurred."

The unhappy king groaned and shrank further into the cushions of the throne.

The Prime Minister went on." I have not yet discovered which of my Cabinet is responsible for this foul deed, but when I do you may rest assured that he will be sacked immediately."

The King groaned.

The Chancellor, not to be outdone by the P.M., stepped forward. "It is going to cost a great deal of money to put it right. I suggest a tax on finger nails to raise the necessary finance."

The king groaned.

The Home Secretary spoke up. "It is the Minister for Tourism’s job to look after things like that. Unfortunately, he is on holiday in Spain at present. I will have him arrested on his return."

The P.M. spoke again. "We will have to do something. The people are already beginning to blame you, sire."

This was not strictly true. The people never blamed the king when anything went wrong. They usually blamed either the Prime Minister or the Queen.

"Has Your Majesty any suggestions?" asked the P.M.

King Shilee did not know what to say and even less what to do. If he had, he would have been far too nervous to say or do it. He relied on the Queen, but she had not arrived yet.

Just as the silence grew embarrassingly long, the door opened and in rushed the heir to the throne, Prince Charmless. "I say, Pops, some rotter’s gone and knocked the top off the jolly old mountain what! A bit off, ain’t it? Oh I made a funny, haw, haw."

He collapsed on a chair and giggled at his own rather feeble humour. It was certainly no joke, for what he said was true. Somebody or something had taken the top off the Mountain as cleanly as you or I might take the top off a boiled egg.