The Snarling of Wolves

by Vivian French

  “And to finish it up with a fat green troll carting off the wolf … only goes to show, they aren’t all bad, those trolls.”

  “Made me laugh like a drain, that did!”

  “Strange it wasn’t Prince Tertius riding t’other big horse, though.”

  “He took a funny turn, my wife says. She saw him staggering out of that little tent. White as a fish, she said, and holding his head, but still gave her a wave.”

  “Ah. Nothing like royalty for giving a wave when it’s needed.”

  As the three Ancient Crones reached the front of the crowd, King Frank marched out into the middle of the arena. The crowds gave him an extra loud cheer, but his expression was grim. When Bluebell and Hortense came to join him, his frown increased.

  “Just what I expected!” he said. “A ridiculously overdramatic fight, and Gracie Gillypot prancing about in the middle of the arena as if she was part of it! And then that silly girl running in and shouting about killing Marcus. A totally appalling exhibition. I’m angry, Bluebell. Very, VERY angry. And as for allowing that troll to make an appearance … all I can say is, I’m speechless. I’ll be having words with Marcus, and that’s for sure. That young man has gone too far this time. Didn’t even allow his brother to take part! The very idea! Jealous of Arioso, that’s what he is! Always has been, always will be. No, no. He’s gone much too far!”

  Bluebell heard him out in silence. When he finally stopped to draw breath, she said, “But Frank! Can’t you hear the crowd? Stop thinking about yourself for once, and listen!”

  The king stared. “What? What do you mean?”

  The queen sighed. “Just LISTEN!”

  Before the king could do as he was told, King Horace of Niven’s Knowe came bustling up, closely followed by Queen Kesta and Queen Mildred.

  “I say, Frank old chap! What a triumph! What a show! Never seen anything like it – and all arranged by your young Marcus, Tertius tells me! Shame poor Terty couldn’t take part. He walked into a tent pole and knocked himself out, silly lad, but what does your boy do? Finds a replacement, cool as you like, and puts on the best show the Five Kingdoms has ever seen!”

  Bluebell, a cunning glint in her eye, nodded. “And did Tertius tell you that his replacement came from the Less Enchanted Forest? A werewolf, I believe. Looked most realistically fierce, don’t you think?”

  “A WHAT?” The King of Gorebreath was turning purple, and Queen Mildred gave him an anxious glance.

  The Dowager Duchess of Cockenzie Rood, prodded by Bluebell, hurried forward. “SO clever of you, Frank. We’re all wildly jealous, of course—”

  “Indeed we are.” Queen Kesta shook her head. “Do you know, I really believed that wild young man was about to finish Marcus off! Poor Fedora and Nina-Rose nearly fainted – but then that funny little troll came on and made us all laugh. SO much more fun than that terrible marching about.”

  King Frank looked from one beaming royal face to another. “Ah,” he said feebly, and then, “But I’m still going to have to have a serious word with young Marcus—”

  “A very fine young man, and a credit to Your Majesty.” The voice was old and cracked, but it had such authority that the king jumped. He swung round, and saw three extraordinary-looking old women standing in a row behind him. He had no chance to ask who they were, and where they had come from; both Marcus and Gracie had come running forward, Gracie to hug each of them in turn, and Marcus to shake their hands with a warmth and enthusiasm his father had never seen before.

  “Mother – and, er, Father,” Marcus said, “allow me to introduce three very dear friends. The Ancient Crones – Edna, Elsie and Val.”

  It was not often that King Frank of Gorebreath was at a loss for words, but this introduction took his breath away. It was Queen Mildred who stepped out to welcome the crones to the Centenary Celebrations, and Bluebell who embraced all three in the most affectionate manner.

  Gracie, alight with excitement, turned to Marcus’s mother. “Your Majesty! These are my adopted aunties! They took me in when I was—” Her face changed, and she suddenly paled. “The Web! Who’s looking after the Web?”

  The Ancient One shook her head. “No one. For the moment, the Web lies still. Tonight, when the full moon rises, we can begin weaving again, but –” she turned and looked at King Frank, Queen Kesta, King Horace and the Dowager Duchess – “but only if the rulers of the Five Kingdoms wish it.”

  King Frank began to bristle. “Web? What web?”

  “Protection of the kingdoms, Frank,” Bluebell explained. “If you ask me, which I know you won’t, but I’m going to give you my opinion anyway so you may as well stop huffing and puffing and listen, we should ask the young. They’re the future, not us.” She turned to Marcus. “What do you think?”

  Marcus drew Gracie a little closer. “I think we should learn to live with the world outside, and not just shut it out and pretend it isn’t there.”

  Bluebell nodded. “Well said.”

  “But Marcus isn’t going to be a king!” Princess Fedora, aware that something interesting was going on, had come hurrying down from her seat on the stage. Tertius, still pale and with a growing purple bruise on his forehead, was close behind her, and so was Nina-Rose. Marigold, seeing no evidence of cake or chocolate, remained where she was. A well-packed picnic basket hidden behind her chair was calling for her attention.

  “You shouldn’t ask him,” Fedora went on. “It’s me and Terty who are important! And I say we shouldn’t ever, ever, EVER have anything to do with what’s on the other side of the border, and Terty agrees with me, don’t you, Terty pops?”

  “No.” Tertius was gazing at Gracie with undisguised admiration. “I’m sorry, Fedora, but I don’t agree. Actually. Not at all. Weren’t you watching? Gracie did the bravest thing I’ve ever seen, and she comes from outside the border … and if there are people like Gracie out there we shouldn’t shut them out.”

  “But Terty – Terty werty poppitty poodle!” Fedora’s voice was shrill. “That was all pretend! They weren’t really fighting! It was a silly make-believe fight, and Gracie just came running on because—”

  “Because she’s brave.” Tertius put up his hand and rubbed his bruise. “And it didn’t look like pretending to me. I agree with Marcus.”

  “So do I.” Arioso had come to join the Royals, Albion and Vincent swaggering beside him. He saw his father’s face, and blushed scarlet. “I’m sorry, Father, but it’s true. I don’t know how that man came to be here, but he could have killed Marcus – only he didn’t. He listened to Gracie. He wasn’t a monster, or a wild animal. And –” he gave Nina-Rose a sideways look – “Marcus is right: Gracie’s wonderful.”

  King Horace was puzzled. “Just a minute! Are you lads saying it wasn’t a put-up show? You didn’t plan it?”

  Marcus and Arry exchanged glances. “We did and we didn’t,” Marcus said, and was saved from further explanation by Bluebell.

  “The best entertainment always leaves one wondering how much was pretence, and how much reality. The mystery’s part of the fun.” She held up a hand. “Just listen to that crowd! They certainly think so!”

  The cheers around them were continuing unabated; many were shouting, “Speech! Speech! Speech from our Marcus!”

  Nina-Rose sniffed. “Really! Why on earth should Marcus give a speech? I just don’t understand the peasants.”

  Arioso, heir to the throne of Gorebreath, took a deep breath. “I’ll tell you something Gracie taught me, Nina-Rose. Those are people, just like us. And just because we have crowns and thrones doesn’t make us any better … in fact, it probably makes us worse.”

  “What?” Nina-Rose stared at her fiancé. “Arry, I don’t want to marry you any more! You’re … you’re MAD!” And she flounced away to join the picnic party on the stage, where Marigold, Vincent and Albion were enjoying themselves hugely.

  “But what about the kingdoms?” King Frank’s brow was furrowed as he tried to make sense of all that was happe
ning. “I don’t understand!”

  “May I make a suggestion?” It was the Ancient One. “Changes take time, and so they should.” She paused. “I’ve been giving the situation a lot of thought. And I’ve come to the conclusion that perhaps we are as much to blame as you; we’ve always kept ourselves apart, and never shared our secrets. But now – thanks to Gracie and Marcus – we are friends, so we can work together, as used to happen many years ago.”

  King Horace, who had been listening intently, leant forward. “Many years ago? How was that, dear lady?”

  Edna smiled at him. “Your grandfather was a good friend of mine.”

  The old king’s eyes shone. “Never! You couldn’t … could you? Could you be Edna? The holder of the power of good against evil? I remember hearing stories. When I was a little boy…” His voice faded away, and a dreamy look came over his face.

  “Yes – well – that’s all very charming, but it doesn’t help us now.” King Frank began to tap his foot. “I’m sure you mean well, madam, but I believe our guards can protect us just as well as you can, if not better—”

  “Wooooooooooooeeeeeeeoooooo,” wailed a voice. “Wooooooooooooeeeeoooooooo…”

  All eyes turned to see where the noise was coming from.

  “Woooooooooooooeeeeeeoooooo! Oozy’s lost lost lost! Oozy can’t find his way home…”

  The zombie, rags flapping and bone gleaming white in the late sunshine, came shuffling towards them. The watching crowd, who by this time would have believed an invasion of ravening tigers was all part of the show, redoubled their cheers.

  “Oh – POOR Oozy.” Gracie ran to rescue the miserable zombie. “It’s all right. Don’t be frightened – we’ll show you which way to go.” She looked over her shoulder at Marcus. “He used to come knocking on the door when I lived in Fracture. He’s quite harmless, but he does get a bit muddled when it’s full moon.”

  Edna, Elsie and Val nodded, and Edna took a pale King Frank by the arm. “Dear sir,” she said, “that zombie is a classic example of someone who needs the border for his own protection … at least, until we all get to know one another. He’s never seen a crowd of humans before, you see, and he’s scared. Just like you’re seeing a zombie for the first time, and you’re suffering from shock. Why don’t you go home and have a cup of sweet tea, and we’ll meet again after you’ve had a chance to consider things? I know you’ll make a wise decision.”

  She gave the king’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Nothing like tea and cake to make you feel better. And now I must be getting home to my own tea and cake, and to prepare the Web so it’s ready to be woven once more … and the path will be getting impatient.” She snapped her fingers, and to the intense delight of all watching the path came looping down into the arena. Realizing it had an audience, it began to twist and turn itself into figures of eight; it wasn’t until Gubble came stomping back that it finally subsided. Alf and Marlon, who had been ducking and diving to avoid its wilder whirls and swirls, breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Bad path,” Gubble said, and sat down heavily on the end. Edna, Elsie and Val processed towards it, and settled themselves comfortably.

  Marcus looked at Gracie. “Shall we go with them?” He grinned. “Sorry, Gracie – but you’re stuck with me now. You told that werewolf you loved me, so it must be true.”

  Gracie gave him her sunniest smile. “It is.”

  “So that’s all right, then.” Marcus swept her into his arms and kissed her. “Right! Let’s go!”

  “Just a minute!” King Frank began, but then stopped, and looked at Queen Mildred and Arioso. “What do you think about all this, Mildred? Arry?”

  “I think it’s simply splendid,” Arry said. “They’ll be back to visit us, you know.” He looked wistfully at Marcus and Gracie’s glowing faces. “And maybe I can go and visit them. Would that be all right, bro?”

  “Come whenever you like,” Marcus told him. “Terty – you come too!”

  There was a small explosion as Fedora covered up a horrified exclamation with a cough. “No! I mean … ahem. Maybe we could go by coach, Terty darling.”

  “Great. So that’s settled.” Marcus gave a decisive nod, and went to sit beside Gubble.

  Gracie, hand in hand with Oozy, gave Bluebell a hug. “See you very soon,” she said, “and thank you so very much for everything.”

  “It’s us who should thank you, dear,” Bluebell told her. “Isn’t that right, Frank?”

  This was almost too much for the king, but he swallowed hard and did his best. “Quite. Absolutely. Indeed.”

  Suppressing a desire to giggle, Gracie curtsied. “Excuse me, Your Majesties … there’s just one thing I’d like to mention. Mr Briggs is locked up in your dungeon, but he tried VERY hard to keep me and Gubble locked in. I think he should have a medal. Would that be possible?”

  “I’m sure it can be done.” Queen Mildred, trying to avoid looking too closely at Oozy, blew Gracie a kiss. “But we must be off. Tea, Frank – tea! Horace? Bluebell? Hortense? Will you join us?”

  Gracie smiled, and led Oozy towards the path. After sitting him down, she leant forward to whisper in Gubble’s ear. “What happened to Foyce?”

  Gubble shrugged. “Wolfies ran away.” He waved a hand. “Right away. Woods.”

  “Wolfies?” Gracie asked in surprise. “Did Jukk wait for her after all?”

  “Lady wolfie was waiting,” Gubble said. “Old lady who was old wolfie.” He wrapped his arms round his stout green body. “Hugging! Old wolfie howled happy howls! Bad wolfie didn’t like … but bad wolfie and old wolfie, they ran away together. Old wolfie said…”

  He rubbed his flat green face while he struggled to remember. “Old wolfie said, ‘Never too late to change.’”

  “That’s good.” Gracie leant back against Marcus’s knees. “I hope they can be happy. I wonder if she’ll turn back into a girl?”

  The Ancient One heard her. “No chance,” she said crisply. “She’ll be much less trouble the way she is. My dears – we really ought to go!”

  As the path lifted up from the ground, there was a collective “Ooooh!” and “Aaaaah!” of satisfaction.

  “That’s the way to finish a celebration. Never seen nothing like that before!”

  “The Royals did us proud today, and that’s for sure.”

  “Shame there weren’t no speeches, though.”

  “SPEECHES? Rubbish! You know what that king’s like once he gets going. Doesn’t know when to stop, and I need to get home for my dinner.”

  “Been a good day, though.”

  “Best ever, I’d say…”

  Gracie, walking into the House of the Ancient Crones arm in arm with Marcus, also thought the day had ended well. She was humming as they went into the kitchen, and she gave a little skip of happiness as she looked round. “It’s so lovely to be back. Is Billy here? How’s he doing?”

  The silence that followed was long and ominous. Gracie looked from one face to another; each crone sighed, and shook her head.

  “I’m so sorry, dear,” Edna said at last. “We didn’t tell you…” She walked towards the drawer and drew back the tea towel to reveal the tiny body.

  Gracie gave a cry. “Billy! Oh, Billy!”

  There was a flutter … the slightest of movements.

  “Hello, Miss Gracie.” Billy’s voice was faint, but clear. “Hello, Mr Prince. Welcome home!”

  Marlon, hanging from the curtain rail, chuckled. “Can’t keep a good bat down.”

  “That’s right!” Alf squeaked. “Batster Super Spotters rule OK!”

  Gubble folded his arms. “Ug! Batties OK. Gubble OK. All OK.”

  With a splutter of ink, a flash of purple, the pen arrived. Whizzing round Gracie and Marcus, it headed for the wall and proceeded to draw a succession of hearts, each one bigger than the one before.

  “Oh NO!” Gracie said, and made a grab at the pen – but she was too late.

  It had started writing, and as they watched it wrote: />
  And they all lived happily ever after…

  Elsie took off her wig, shook off the droplets of purple ink, and put it back on again. “Isn’t that nice? Just what we all like to hear.”

  “Don’t encourage it,” Val said, looking in dismay at the ink running down the walls, but the pen was already off again.

  Once upon a time there were Five Kingdoms, and the kingdoms had a king called Marcus and a queen called Gracie…

  “Really?” Marcus was open-mouthed. “Can it tell the future?”

  “Time enough for the future when the future comes,” said the Ancient One, but her eye was twinkling, and her smile very warm. “Now, who wants tea?”

  “Fast-paced fantasy adventure peopled with fabulous creations.”

  Daily Telegraph

  “Hilarious adventures with wicked witches, trolls, bats and fairy-tale magic.”

  Books for Keeps

  “Delightfully witty and exciting.”

  The Independent on Sunday

  “French takes the fairy-tale format and twists it into a funny, frenetic adventure … will draw in girls and boys with a taste for the fantastical and off-beat humour.”

  Daily Mail

  “A most unlikely feel-good fairy tale.”

  BBC Radio 4 — Open Book

  About the Author

  Vivian French is the author of over two hundred books, but she’s never enjoyed writing as much as when she was writing the first of the Tales from the Five Kingdoms, The Robe of Skulls.

  Of The Snarling of Wolves, she says, “I had just as much fun with this book as I did with Robe. At long last I could write about werewolves (much to Ross Collins’ delight), and I could fly with Marlon and Alf over all the Five Kingdoms, and out into the Less Enchanted Forest as well. I suspect I’m turning into a bit of an Ancient Crone myself – or perhaps I’m Bluebell? Who knows.

  A very special thank you to Oliver Brooks (10), Hannah Firth (11) and Isobel de la Hey (11). Their support and enthusiasm has been invaluable, and they are all WONDERFUL!”