“Indeed, my illustrious lord,” said the goose. He turned to Sam and Peter. “Climb on, my illustrious friends,” he waved a wing. “The wind is light, and we’ll make good speed.” Turning back to Nathan, Hermes continued, “Although I wish at all times to comply with their illustrious highnesses the empress and empling, you, my lord, are the Lord of Clarr and I am the Messenger of Clarr. I will gladly do as you wish.”
“Thanks,” said Nathan as Sam and Peter climbed onto Hermes’ back, “now call the ladder.” At once the wooden steps began to appear, gradually rising up and up. Within a few moments, they could not see the top for it disappeared into the clouds.
Peter waved one handed, carefully keeping his lute safe. “See you in Sparkan,” he called, and Sam waved too, then flung both arms around Hermes’ neck. With a short flat-footed run, the great bird then spread his wings and rose into the air. Within minutes the three of them were no longer visible.
“Well,” said Poppy, staring at the ladder with suspicion, “let’s get going before Mum appears to stop us.”
“Children should always obey their parents,” said Henry VIII loudly.
“I bet you never did,” retorted Poppy, and put her foot to the first step.
“Well, good morning,” said the ladder to the astonishment of the kings. “I’ve had a very difficult week, so no whizz or whoosh today I’m afraid.”
“Who said that?” demanded Henry V.
“Who do you think, deaf fool?” retorted the ladder crossly. “A little more polite gratitude would be best, I think. And no inequality. Just because I’m a ladder, there’s no excuse to treat me as inferior.”
“Oh dear,” sighed Richard. “No doubt I will understand eventually. But I wish my wife was here.”
“So do I,” murmured Henry VIII.
“Which one?” demanded Poppy. “You had hundreds of them and murdered them all.”
Richard and the other King Henry looked extremely shocked, but Nathan said quickly, “Only six wives, and only two divorced and two murdered.”
“That still isn’t the behaviour I’d expect from a king,” frowned Richard III. “Especially a King of England. Even if this is a dream.”
“Concentrate,” roared the ladder with a little shake that made everyone hang on. “Never mind silly conversations about wives and kings. Start climbing. I can’t wait around all day.”
As usually happened when the ladder got cross, thorns and ivy began to twine all around the steps, making it hard to climb without getting caught in matted stalks, or scratched by the thorns. “Stop it,” yelled Nathan. “Give us roses and no thorns.”
The ladder kindly began to produce roses. They were deep red with large perfumed petals, but Richard was not pleased. “These are red Lancastrian roses,” he said. “I believe they should be beautiful white roses for the House of York.”
Promptly and obligingly, the ladder turned all the roses pure white and even more sweetly perfumed. Richard smiled widely, his nose to one of the flowers, breathing in the scent. But Henry VIII, clinging to the sides of the ladder several steps lower, was furious. “These roses are wrong. I refuse to touch them. I insist on the Tudor rose, which is white in the middle with red on the outside edges. Do the change at once.”
“Oh, you lot are idiots,” complained the ladder. “No thank you for the nice smells and the pretty flowers? Well, too bad,” and immediately the roses disappeared, replaced by a thousand fluttering streamers in different colours. These were long and caught the wind, and kept blowing back in everyone’s faces.
Eventually Nathan, sounding as polite as he could, asked, “Sorry, ladder, but could we get rid of these party streamers too? They’re a real nuisance.”
“Humph,” said the ladder. “Some people are never satisfied. What do you want then?”
Indeed, everyone was just gasping for breath and trying to keep climbing. Hanging on to the sides and pulling themselves up on a ladder that rose straight upwards and seemed to go on forever and ever, was hard enough without other things getting in the way. Anyone who dared to peer down would see floating clouds and the birds flying way below. A fear of hurtling into those clouds seemed to take over all thought, and even Nathan, who was accustomed to this climb, sympathised with the kings who had never seen such a thing before. So Nathan said, “How about big wide steps, please, ladder? And perhaps if only you could slope a bit and not go up and up?”
“Stupid boy,” said the ladder, having forgotten that this was the future emperor. “If I lean over, I might fall down. You wouldn’t like that, would you! All landing in the mud with a thump, thump, thump! But I suppose I could make my steps wider.”
And with that, all the rungs suddenly grew large and flat and bright pink. The bright pink was a bit of a shock, but the new steps made the climb much easier. Poppy called, “Have you gone pink so it’s a mix of white and red like the roses?”
“That’s right,” said the ladder with an invisible smile. “Happy? And what else would you like, then? Fussy people! Always wanting something different. And do you all think I can just produce whatever you fancy? How about cake? A hot bath, perhaps? How about a book to read on the way up? How about –,”
But Nathan had seen something else in the distance, something he didn’t want at all, and he wished he could just run up the ladder and get away. For there in the bright blue sky, coming closer and closer, were two huge striped balloons, and there was a tall skinny wizard in each one, wearing black suits. One wore a tall black top hat, and the other wore a little gold cap.
“Oh dear,” shouted Nathan, “Balloons.”
“Oh well, if that’s what you want,” sighed the ladder, “that’s what I’ll make.”
And a whole load of coloured party balloons began to bob about, tied to the ladder’s sides and steps. They bounced around in everyone’s faces and made climbing more difficult with every step. The kings, who had never seen any sort of balloon before, were extremely bewildered, trying to touch and understand what these new things were. Meanwhile, Poppy took out her little penknife and began to burst some of them. But the loud explosive bang made the kings even more worried, and they kept looking around, wondering where the noises came from.
“Get rid of the balloons,’ shouted Nathan.
“What, what? Wicked boy,” called Brewster, sailing up closer. “Bubbly bobby, pretty-witty colours all aglow. And here’s the twinny-win-winnies, come in even bigger balloons to see their itsy-bitsy little friends.”
Henry V was so startled, he almost let go of the ladder, but managed to hang on, staring with his mouth open. Richard III frowned, asking, “Friends or enemies?”
“I’m never sure,” admitted Nathan. “But it’s the last thing I need now.” He stared back at Brewster. “What do you two want?”
“To help our poor itsy-bitsy friends,” cackled Brewster.
“I am neither your friend,” roared Henry VIII, “nor am I itsy-bity.”
“Then we won’t help you,” grinned Brewster. “You can help yourself.”
But Poppy was looking at Wagster. His long ugly face was paler than usual. Indeed, he looked horribly white, and there were big dark shadows under his bright green eyes. He sat very quietly in the little basket of his balloon, with his top hat falling over one ear, and his thin mouth drooping. “How’s your brother?” called Poppy. “He doesn’t look well.”
Nathan couldn’t care less if Wagster was well, since he had been the worst twin ever since he’d known them, which was quite a long time now. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked, “apart from all the usual things?”
Quite abruptly, almost as though someone had clicked the ‘on’ button on his remote control, Wagster stood up and sang out,
“The first and then another,
Snap.
Wagster and his brother,
Snap.
Snap comes the first cut, snap comes the second.
But still more poison to discover,
Snap.
Ch
oose the ice or choose the fire,
Snap,
One takes you lower, one spins you higher,
Snap.
Both burn, both - kill.
And if one doesn’t get you, then the other one will.”
He sat down again, shut his mouth with a snap (not a Snap!) and looked glassy eyed. Brewster waved his arms and the usual puff of flame shot up into the great balloon from the pump below. “My twinny-win-winny ain’t too well,” Brewster nodded. “Bin missing his little starry friend. But I like this better, and it will get better – and better – and better – and one day will be best.”
“But Yaark isn’t truly gone,” said Nathan. “Most unfortunately.”
Wagster immediately began to shiver. He grabbed the edge of the basket, his fingers quivering. But Brewster seemed unconcerned. “No matter, Bumble-Bee Head,” he called. “One day here, one day gone. That meteor-slug is whatever he is, but not my twinny-winny. My cuddly Wagster is free.”
“He don’t look too pleased about it,” muttered the ladder.”
“Mind yer own business,” said Brewster crossly. Then he turned to Nathan again, “Pleased, were you, when I brought your little friend? Delivered just at the right time,” he chuckled. “First of many favours.”
“Well, I’m not sure we needed poor Ninester at that moment,” said Poppy. “But I suppose it was good to let Deben see that the real Ninester was doing very nicely.”
Still not speaking if he could help it, Wagster sat trembling and Poppy even felt a little bit sorry for him. He had always been the worst of the twins, but if this had been caused mostly by Yaark taking him over, then she supposed she couldn’t entirely blame Wagster for it. Brewster was still smiling. “A favour for a favour, little Bumble-Bee-Head,” he told her. “You do some. Friendly Brewster does some. Fair’s fair and walloppy ditsy-pooh.”
“But Yaark,” called Nathan, hanging on grimly to the side of the ladder, “may come –,”
“Now, now, let’s use another name,” answered Brewster. That name makes my poor twinny-winny shiver and shake. All a ‘wobble, he is. Let’s not talk about the meteor-slug if you please. Let us hope the stars stay in the big wide sky and the slugs stay in the big wide mud, and the meteors go whizzy-up and whizzy-down but don’t land here.”
All three kings, finding it hard to hang onto the sides of the ladder up in the clouds, for there seemed to be nothing above and nothing below, were becoming extremely tired. “We need to move,” Richard called. “It is not easy to wait in this in-between state. Besides, it is getting cold.”
“You’ll soon be hot enough on Sparkan,” laughed Poppy.
“I have no desire to be either too hot or too cold,” called Henry VIII. “I constantly tell my personal chaplain to organise the weather and alert the gardeners to keep the rain only at night.”
Brewster looked down at him with a loud cackle. “You want a wizard to organise the weather?” he asked. “What a fool. No wizard can do that. But I can make it rain, and if it rains, I can keep myself dry. Drippy-drip-dripsy-wetallover. Tis a grand power. Only I can do this.”
“Well, make it warmer now,” said Henry.
“Where did you find this fat red-haired plop?” demanded Brewster. “What a fool.”
“I am not a plop,” scowled Henry. “How dare you.”
“Candy-Head, ginger-wobbles,” said Brewster. “Fatty wattsy, slimp-a-lump.”
Henry VIII was becoming angry. “What ludicrous language do you speak?” he said. “Are you a harlequin or the village idiot? Talk some sense, fool.”
“Fatty-Dumpty sat on a wall,” sang Brewster,
Fatty-Dumpty had a great fall.
Fell from the ladder to Sparkan, he did,
And we put all his pieces in a jar with a lid.
Said we was sorry, but didn’t much care.
Other things matter when all’s fair’s fair.”
Going red in the face with fury, Henry tried to scramble further up the ladder to reach out and thwack Brewster, but the balloon bobbed away, Nathan was nearly pushed off and Poppy yelled, “Keep still or the ladder will wobble and we’ll all fall off.”
Henry v was sitting on one of the lower rungs, elbows on the next rung up, head on his hands, and was half falling asleep. Richard, just below Poppy, was taking a considerable interest in the balloons, both Brewster’s and Wagster’s, but also the little coloured party balloons which still floated around the sides of the ladder. Richard had one of these between his hands, and was examining it, rubbing the ball of his thumb across the plastic, which was a surface he had never known before.
“See you on Sparkan,” waved Brewster as his own balloon began to fly upwards again.
Nathan called, “You’re going there too? You’re not going to try and stop me, are you? You know what I have to do.”
“We knows, we knows,” Brewster called back. “Ding-a-ling-ling, a party’s the thing. Meet up and sing, biscuits to bring, your goose on the wing, snakes there will sting, we’ll all have a fling, bring your fat king, Sparkans doorbell to ring, ding-a-ling-ling.”
“And he thinks I’m an idiot,” muttered Henry VIII.
But both the huge balloons sailed up and on, soon disappearing, leaving the ladder and its occupants feeling exhausted. “Come on,” said Nathan. “We have to get to the top before we get so tired we fall off.”
“I thought Brewster might give me a lift,” sighed Poppy. “I should have asked, but he flew off too quickly.”
“I wouldn’t trust him anyway,” said Nathan. “He might throw you out into the volcano or take you somewhere completely different.”
“Or chuck me into the boiling lake with all those deadly snakes,” Poppy agreed. “So it’s just as well he didn’t ask me.”
“Boiling lakes of deadly snakes?” demanded Henry V from two rungs below. “What sort of country is this? You never mentioned deadly serpents before.”
“Well,” said Nathan, “just don’t go jumping in the water. If you want a bath, wait until you get back to the cottage.”
“I don’t need a bath,” said Henry. “I had one two months ago before I sailed for France.”
“Get a move on,” moaned the ladder. “You’re heavy, especially the fat one. And if the Hazletts are right and his mighty majesty Clebbster is planning to use me to go to Sparkan and turns into that mighty gigantic whopping great snake then he’s heavier than all of you put together. One day I shall end up in splinters.”
“Well, I hate to add another burden to your problems,” said Nathan, trying not to laugh, “but could you get rid of these balloons. They keep hitting us on our noses, and they really are a distraction.”
“Oh, bother, I thought you wanted them,” complained the ladder as the balloons began to pop and disappear one by one. “Honestly, you try and please some people and they just throw it in your face.”
“You haven’t got a face,” said Poppy rather unwisely.
The ladder began to sniff. A few drops of water began to slip down both sides.
“Is this ladder ---- crying?” demanded Richard.
“It seems so,” said Poppy. “But how do you cuddle a ladder? How do you wipe its eyes?”
“You just say you’re sorry,” advised Nathan. “She really is sorry for upsetting you, ladder,” he added. “We really do appreciate you, and you’re the very best ladder we’ve ever known. And we know you have a hard life and you do a wonderful job, backwards and forwards, and sometimes horrible snakes. But look – these three gentlemen are all kings in their own different world. I mean, you’ve been to medieval England, these were the kings during that time. So it is a great honour.”
“Even if one of the kings is a fat murderer,” added Poppy under her breath.
“In that case,” said the ladder with a more cheerful voice as the little teardrops disappeared, “perhaps I could give you all just a little, a very little one, a – whoosh.”
“Oh yes please,” said Poppy and Nathan together.
The ladder paused, as if building up its breath, and then with a swish and a whizz, the whole thing went shooting upwards. The wind blew cold in their faces, they rushed through the clouds, and finally a hot wind took the place of the cold one. One or two remaining balloons bumped into them as up they went, and a few floating white rose petals, but there was little to see except endless hot sky. It got hotter and hotter, and they could see the fiery orange sky over the volcano of Sparkan.
They all tumbled off onto the grass, and sat there trying to rub their eyes, shake their heads, and work out exactly what had happened. For a start, the ladder had completely disappeared, and they were all on firm ground. Suddenly there was a whistle, and Hermes flew down beside them, giving a waddle and a flap before stopping right at Nathan’s feet. Peter and Sam rolled off his back, stretched, gave a quick yawn, thanked Hermes, and said, “Right, off to the volcano we go.”
“Oh not yet,” yelped Poppy. “We’ve been ages on that wretched ladder. It’s tired me out. My legs are shaking, and my hands feel numb.”
“And we saw both the Hazlett twins,” added Nathan. “Did you see them in their balloons?”
But Hermes replied, “No, my illustrious lord, and very pleased I am. Those wizards are dangerous.”
“I have a feeling they’re getting nicer,” murmured Nathan. “But I can’t be sure. It’s all to do with Yaark. He’s not inside Wagster anymore, so Wagster’s gone all strange and pale and quiet. I think he sort of feels lost. But Brewster is really pleased.”
“Who, or what, is Yaark?” asked Richard III.
“Oh dear, that’s another very long story,” sighed Peter. “We’ll explain later. I just hope we don’t see him in the meantime.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Climbing the mountain was not easy. It never was, but this time it belched black smoke every few minutes, and great explosions of flame high into the sky. One side where the slope was easier, there were many hand-holds and cracks for wedging feet, but there were also slippery places, and no one wanted to slide down into the boiling lake below where the snakes were coiling and twisting. The lake sent up hot steam, the mountain sent down hot smoke, and Richard declared that he had never climbed anything so unpleasant in his life.
Dominoes Page 25
