Text copyright © 2019 Alain M. Bergeron
Illustrations copyright © 2019 Sampar
Originally published in French in 2011 by Éditions Michel Quintin
under the title Billy Stuart dans l’antre du Minotaure
Translation copyright © 2019 Sophie B. Watson
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Cataloguing in Publication information available from Library and Archives Canada
Issued in print and electronic formats.
isbn 978-1-4598-1840-8 (softcover).—isbn 978-1-4598-1841-5 (pdf).— isbn 978-1-4598-1842-2 (epub)
Simultaneously published in Canada and the United States in 2019
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018954152
Summary: In this illustrated novel for middle-grade readers, Billy Stuart and his loyal Scout group have inadvertently traveled through time and are trapped in a labyrinth with King Minos’s Minotaur.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the National Translation Program for Book Publishing, an initiative of the Roadmap for Canada’s Official Languages 2013-2018: Education, Immigration, Communities, for our translation activities.
Cover and interior illustrations by Sampar
Translated by Sophie B. Watson
Ebook by Bright Wing Books (brightwing.ca)
Orca Book Publishers
orcabook.com
Table of Contents
Characters
Dear Reader
Author's Note
Recap
Chapter 1: In the Land of Dinosaurs?
Topsy-Turvy
Chapter 2: Ancient Times
Anagrams
Chapter 3: An Unhappy Ship
Chapter 4: Little Beasts
Chapter 5: The Revelation
Chapter 6: King Minos
Chapter 7: The Labyrinth
The Enigma of the Crossing
Chapter 8: A Compass
Chapter 9: Moments of Distraction
Chapter 10: A Shadow
Chapter 11: The Monster Who Sees Red
The fastest Zintrepid
Chapter 12: With a Little Help from My Friends
Chapter 13: Meathead!
Chapter 14: The Exploit
Chapter 15: A New Threat
Chapter 16: Safe and Sound
Chapter 17: The Clue
Search and Find
Solutions
Landmarks
Cover
Body Matter
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Title Page
dear reader,
Billy Stuart wasn’t exactly elected to this particular position. He doesn’t wear a magical ring on his finger like Frodo. He doesn’t have a secret collection of masks or stones hidden in his drawers like Zelda. He hasn’t walked through life accompanied by a daemon like Lyra. Nor does he have a distinctive lightning-shaped scar on his forehead like Harry. Basically, the future of the world does not rest on his thin and bony shoulders.
Billy Stuart is just a young, ordinary raccoon who has experienced some extraordinary adventures.
Here is the second adventure he told me about.
One twelfth of January, in the town of Cavendish.
In the Land of Dinosaurs?
Sitting on a giant ROCK at the exit of Belcher’s Cavern, I remember the instructions my grandfather Virgil wrote in his notebook:
Get yourself to the heart of the city’s maze. You will find there the clue for the next part of your journey.
To figure out WHERE we are, and WHEN, we must first get out of this place. After consulting the Zintrepids pack members, we opt to head north. Judging by the position of the SUN in the sky, it should be around two o’clock.
I lead the way, with Foxy at my heels. She’s holding FrouFrou on her leash. Behind her are Musky, then Shifty and finally Yeti, watching our backs.
While we are walking on a trail through the unfamiliar, dense forest, we wonder:
The path descends a gentle slope, and the forest brightens.
“Maybe we are in ancient times? Or the middle ages? Or the FUTURE?” Foxy says.
I hear a familiar sound as we approach a bend in the trail—a river!
We cross a meadow of tall grass to reach it. The stream is as wide as a road. And there are no unusual smells. I taste a drop with the tip of my tongue. No bitter taste. It might be safe to drink.
“The water is good!” Shifty says, slurping as he chews up a dragonfly caught in midflight.
Greedily we gulp down the delicious, clean water and fill up our canteens.
Wherever you find rivers and freshwater, you find…crawfish!
Yummy! Yummy! I’m not just thirsty. I am also Famished. And those granola bars in my bag won’t be enough to fill me up.
A couple of meters from the bank, the water is up to my knees. I can see the bottom of the river. I only need to move a few stones to find my favorite dish. I search and search fervently—I had one! i had two!
“kabillions of crusty-clawed crawfish in that Bulstrode River!”
A river of crawfish. It is heaven on earth! Is this a part of the Bulstrode River I didn’t know about?
“YUM! Such a treat! So delicious!”
I notice a tree trunk heading toward me—which is curious. Normally a trunk would be following the current. This tree trunk is moving in more of a diagonal kind of way.
Whatever! That trunk can do what it wants—my mind is focused on my stomach.
I spot a crawfish trying to escape. I pick it like an autumn apple. It is gigantic. It must be the queen of the crawfish! My mouth waters.
The tree trunk…gets closer. Just then Foxy screeches from the riverbank.
“BE CAREFUL! It’s a crocodile!”
FrouFrou barks and growls. Musky grabs Yeti by the collar to stop him from throwing himself in the water.
“Bring it on! No, really, bring it on!
Terrified, I flee the gaping jaws of the crocodile…and lose the queen crawfish. My booty! I’ll never find another crawfish that big! Not an important observation, I know. But I told you already: my mind was on my stomach. I am mourning my lost crawfish when I should be focusing on getting away from that carnivorous reptile.
Enough about the crawfish! I escape the animal’s attack at the last second and scream:
“Troop! Quick! Throw him the dog! It’ll distract him!”
“Really, Billy Stuart, really??!!!” says Foxy, who knows more than anyone how much I don’t like FrouFrou.
By the way, I am way more agile than a tree trunk, even one powered by a massive tail! I leap onto the crocodile’s back and from there throw myself out of the water to a safe spot on the bank.
“All that for a miserable crawfish,” Foxy SCOLDS.
“My guilty pleasure, I confess,” I say, still panting.
FrouFrou starts barking and growling again. The crocodile is now on firm ground and moving quickly in our direction. He seems pretty determined not to lose such an appetizing dinner.
“RUN!” Musky shrieks.
We are practically tripping over our own feet as we clear out of there.
We’ve barely gotten away from our assailant and passed through a meadow of high grass when we come face-to-face with ARMED SOLDIERS.
Ancient Times
The presence of soldiers confirms one thing: we are not in the Age of Dinosaurs.
“OUCH!” Musky says as he touches the tip of a soldier’s spear. “It’s the real deal!”
A dozen soldiers surround us.
Yeti challenges them. “Bring it on! No, really, bring it on!”
“Spray them, Musky! Spray them!” Foxy begs while trying to STOP FrouFrou’s pulling.
The poodle is all excited, wagging his tail and hopping up and down on his hind legs. He wants to meet the strangers.
Musky, the one we accuse every time we detect a bad smell, declares:
“Oh, so now you don’t want me to hold it in?!” She says it with her snout in the air.
Based on the uniforms, helmets and sandals of the soldiers, I presume we are in ancient times. Or on a MOVIE set depicting ancient times, in which case the wardrobe stylist would deserve an award for the accuracy of the costumes.
But I am convinced no one is going to yell, “ CUT!” Which is lucky, because I don’t want to get chopped up! You know, with all those spears…
We are now prisoners of a patrol of soldiers who must have been born a few dusty millenniums ago. We could be in the era of Julius Caesar. Oh! With luck we might even meet the queen, Cleopatra!
The soldier quickly leaves. He returns ten minutes later to present himself to his commander, looking a little banged up.
“Um…the crocodile didn’t want to cooperate, my captain. He refused to be turned into sandals.”
“Imbecile!” His superior spits, then barks, “Keep moving!”
Quick-footed soldiers surround our group. We don’t dare slow down, because all slowpokes get their behinds pinched to keep them moving.
We emerge from the forest. A large cart pulled by two robust horses is stopped near a dirt road. Uninvited, FrouFrou jumps on board and settles himself COMFORTABLY on a cloth that’s covering wooden crates.
The convoy moves forward. We march like this for an hour. Sometimes the poodle lifts his head and BARKS and WAGS his tail when he spots us. The rest of the time he rests his paws on the edge of the cart, tongue hanging out, and enjoys having his head in the wind.
Commander Troudos sighs and curses. What did he ever do to deserve such a group of hopeless nincompoops?
Meanwhile I am busy trying get information from my neighbor, the one who confronted the crocodile.
“Tell me, sir, what year are we in?”
He looks at me like I’ve said something really stupid.
“What year? What do you mean?”
“Are we 500 years before Jesus Christ? Or 200 years after Jesus Christ?”
The soldier doesn’t miss a beat. “What’s this ‘Jesus Christ’?”
Our discussion has taken a turn I didn’t expect. I explain.
“He had a major impact on the history of the world. We redid the calendar to the year zero when he was born. There was a Before Him and an After Him.”
“I’ve never heard of him. don’t fall behind, or I will get punished by my commander.”
“And why are we headed to the port?”
The soldier SMILES menacingly.
“We have a delivery for the island of Crete.”
An Unhappy Ship
After barely escaping the murderous jaws of a crocodile, we had fallen into a patrol of soldiers. They march us to a port near a city.
Sadly, I don’t think this is the city my grandfather mentioned in the message in his notebook: the heart of the city’s maze…
Because, there is no actual city, only a few fishing cabins. Come to think of it, it isn’t really a proper port either. It’s more a makeshift camp for sailors on holiday. A third-class pit stop. The gangway that brings us on board the ship is rickety and UNSTABLE. We can’t walk it more than two at a time. Loslobos, the captain of the ship, greets us COLDLY.
“What is this?” he asks the commander of the patrol, Troudos, who is ahead of us.
“A present for Minos for your voyage to Crete. I’m sure he will appreciate it—especially the dog!”
The captain looks us over from head to toe with his dark black eyes.
“A raccoon in a skirt?”
I correct him. “Sir, it’s a kilt.”
“Hmmm,” he says, stroking his beard like it helps him think.
Troudos hands him a sack containing pieces of gold.
“A little something for the disturbance, captain…”
Satisfied, Troudos leaves the ship to join his men on the ground.
Large black sails are deployed for the castoff. But the wind fails us after an hour, and we have to row. They assign us places in the vessel’s galley among some other young people, barely older than teenagers and all clothed in long red robes.
I share the bench with a rower who acknowledges me with a brief nod. A whip snaps beside me, motivating me to start rowing.
“Get to work, you band of no-good, do-nothing lazy loafers!” bellows the guard, Ugobos. A short-legged, potbellied guy dripping in sweat, he is just waiting to give us a taste of his medicine.
Behind me, Shifty sings to himself:
Yeti starts to sing. He isn’t even able to sit on his bench—he’s simply clutching the oar as it swings around. He’s been paired with a very large rowing partner.
Musky and I join in, and soon we are all singing. The song seems to give us strength and help our rhythm. We start rowing faster. Ugobos is just about to use his whip to quiet us down when the captain stops him.
“Don’t—the ship is going faster. Leave these poor things alone.”
Reluctantly Ugobos tucks the whip away.
“You’re too good to the prisoners, Captain,” the guard accuses.
Loslobos gives his underling an icy stare. “Never question my orders!”
When the guard resumes his position, I strike up a conversation with my neighbor.
“Why don’t we have leg irons on?” I ask.
“They’re unnecessary. The captain has banned them. Can you imagine what would happen in a shipwreck? No one would be able to escape from the boat.
“But even if you did escape, the sea is massive and infested with SHARKS and other strange creatures.”
My fellow rower is named Zeppelinos, and he is Athenian. He tells me he’s part of a group of young people who were chosen to be sent to Crete to be sacrificed.
“Sacrificed!” I yell, terrified. “kabillions of crusty-clawed crawfish in that Bulstrode River!”
This adventure reminds me of something else. I need to try to sneak a word in with Foxy. She loves history, and I need to learn more about this era.
Little Beasts
Not surprisingly, the rowers resume their naturally slower rhythm once the singing stops. Ugobos finds another way to motivate us to pick up the pace: little beasts!
The rowers cry out as the guards let loose…A BUNCH OF SCORPIONS!
“Don’t you dare let me see you stop rowing!” Ugobos says menacingly. “The captain is sleeping at the moment. If he hears one single moan, he will wake up, and that would definitely ruin my good mood.”
“Try not to move,” Zeppelinos advises me.
I pass the message along to my friends. It is only Yeti who isn’t able to sit still on the bench. Hooked onto the oar, he scans the boat and looks the tiny creatures in their eyes.
“Bring it on! No, really, bring it on.”
I can sense the other rowers getting nervous, and then they all fall quiet. I dread hearing the first moan of pain from one of us.
SCORPIONS are similar to crawfish, aren’t they? Why should I be scared?
Because there is one on the bench, very, very, close to me!
“Move slowly toward me,” whispers Zeppelinos.
The scorpion, pincers open, stinging tail ready to make fire, seems to be looking for just one s
udden movement from me to justify his attack.
Slowly, very slowly, I distance myself from the beast, all the while continuing to row. Zeppelinos snuggles up against the galley wall to give me extra room. The scorpion ignores my attempt to give it space and advances toward me anyway. I know Ugobos is watching what is happening. He sniggers with pleasure. If I am stung, the pain will make me scream. I am a reasonable raccoon, but the pain will definitely force me to stop rowing. Then I will be whipped. I’m worried this is about to get seriously unpleasant.
I am so scared!
I squeeze my eyes shut to stop the tears.
Wh…what?
Where is the scorpion? Gone? What happened?
I hear the AWFUL sound of a body being crushed. I look at Shifty, who has just finished chewing the little beast…
The scorpion’s tail is hanging out of my friend’s mouth. He grabs it and tosses it under the bench.
I had no idea Shifty was so hungry. He catches and swallows a dozen more scorpions that were scurrying around this part of the ship.
The Revelation
The captain, Loslobos, gives his orders for docking at the port of Knossos. In just a few minutes we will hit land. A sad expression passes over his face as he looks at the people he has to deliver at the port. Zeppelinos whispers to me, “He must be thinking of his sister, Timoree.”
A few months ago, he tells me, another group of Athenians was taken to the island. Loslobos’s sister was part of the group. Strange tales circulated around the country about a MONSTER and human sacrifices.
Where is Foxy when I need her? There! Busy cuddling FrouFrou. What a waste of time!
I join them and summarize the situation for her. As soon as he spots me, the dog bounces around, barking. I take advantage of an apple core left on a barrel and chuck it over the side of the boat, to get some peace.
Billy Stuart in the Minotaur's Lair Page 1
