CHAPTER 10
Meanwhile, back in the Scottish Lowlands, Harald, Erik and the other Vikings were having a tremendous time laying siege to a small town.
“READY THE CABBAGES!” cried Harald. The Vikings loaded cabbages onto giant slings and waited for his command.
“FIIIIRE!!”
They launched wave after wave of cabbages over the town walls. Having vegetables catapulted at you was one of the worst insults imaginable for any Viking. But Harald was puzzled. “I don’t understand why they haven’t surrendered yet. They should be dying of shame by now.”
It was Olaf who put his hand up. “Excuse me, Chief, but maybe it’s because we are firing food at them. Some people eat cabbages you know.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” cried Harald. “Only a raving lunatic would eat vegetables or Oswald, and you know how he smells.” Then he stroked his beard for a moment. “Thorfinn would know what to do,” he whispered to himself. “I wonder how he is…
I hope he found a comfy spot to pitch his tent…” He told the others, “I need to go and have a think, lads.”
As soon as he said this, the other Vikings dashed for cover. Whenever Harald had to think, he threw axes at trees. He was a rotten aim, so finding a safe place to hide was a wise move. Some even dug trenches.
Harald wandered off into the woods while Erik the Ear-Masher and the other Vikings took cover and consulted the map. Just then, one of the Viking look-outs appeared.
“A messenger has arrived, looking for the chief.”
Harald’s axe could be heard from the woods thumping into a tree:
BLAM!
“I’ll talk to him,” said Erik.
Up toddled a very old man, panting with exhaustion and carrying a scroll. “My name is… Winkie of Castle Red Wolf, and I come… hot foot from my master’s castle.”
The Vikings burst out laughing. “YOU? Look at the state of you! You couldn’t hot foot it if you were running from a stampeding elephant.”
Winkie looked insulted, and Erik snatched the scroll from his hand. He read the message, mumbling: “To the Viking chief… your son, Thorfinn… have taken him hostage… ransom… toughest clan in Scotland… Castle Red Wolf... blah, blah, blah…” Erik stopped and sniffed the air. “Does anyone smell raspberries?”
“Well, Sir Viking, whit’s your reply?” asked Winkie.
Another axe bounced from tree to tree before knocking out a passing stag:
BASH, BONK, THWANG!
“MY reply? Ha!” Erik laughed, a great booming laugh that seemed to shake the ground and rattle everyone’s chests. “I’ll give you MY reply.”
He tore off a piece of paper, scribbled on it, and handed it back to Winkie. “Now get going, before we tie you to a tree and use you as target practice!”
Winkie eyed a giant platter of roast chicken the Vikings had pillaged for lunch. “Oh, can I no’ have a wee sit doon and a bite tae eat before I go?” he asked. “It’s an awful long way back.”
“No, I’ve got a better idea,” replied Erik. “Drag him outside!”
The Vikings hauled the old man out of the tent, strapped him to a horse and slapped the horse on the hindquarters. The horse reared up and galloped off in the direction of the Highlands.
“H-HELLLLPPP!” Winkie wailed.
The Vikings roared with laughter, until an axe came hurtling out of the woods, whizzed passed their ears and landed in a tree trunk.
THHWWWUMMMP!
It was Olaf who broke the silence, turning to his father. “Dad, shouldn’t we have told Harald the chief about Thorfinn before you sent back that message?”
“But why? This is our chance to get rid of Thorfinn once and for all,” Erik replied.
CHAPTER 11
That night Thorfinn snuggled up in his comfy feather bed, complete with slippers, water bottle and hot chocolate. “Well, I must say, the service here is excellent.”
But Velda wasn’t listening. She was smearing charcoal over her face, commando-style. “SSSH, now come on Thorfinn, get out of bed. We’re escaping!” She hauled him towards the door.
“I think you’ll find the door is locked,” said Thorfinn.
“Ha! There’s no lock a smart Viking girl like me can’t pick.” She brandished a small pin and began probing the lock. Seconds later she flung the door wide open.
Next she unlocked Oswald’s door. Oswald was pacing about the floor. “Ah, Thorfinn. I’m still trying to figure out your riddle. Let’s see: two fathers, two sons…”
“Never mind that rubbish now,” said Velda in hushed tones. “Follow me, and be quiet!”
She led Oswald and Thorfinn downstairs, halting in the shadows at the entrance to the courtyard while the guards passed by. “I’ve timed the sentries. They are about to swap shifts. This is our chance, but we only have a minute. Do you understand?”
They nodded.
Velda shoved her two friends into the courtyard. “Quick! Now!”
They skirted the wall, dodging between moonlight shadows.
“This is fun, isn’t it?” said Thorfinn. “Are we off to raid the kitchens? We could have a midnight feast.”
Velda pushed them towards a giant catapult. “Get on there.” Thorfinn and Oswald squeezed themselves into the giant spoon-head where the missiles normally sat. “I’ve set it as high as it can possibly go.” Velda squashed herself in behind them, then whipped out a knife and cut the cord.
PYOINNGGG!
cried Thorfinn. Oswald cried out too. He sounded like a seagull having a panic attack.
They landed in a confused mess. When they got to their feet and dusted themselves off they were standing not on the ground outside, but on the highest battlements of the castle.
“Odin’s beard!!” cried Velda. “We were too heavy to get over the wall! Never mind, look there’s a rope ladder we can use. We’ll climb down the other side.”
Velda heaved the bundle of ropes over the wall. She stretched her leg over and reached for Thorfinn’s hand. “Come on!”
But Thorfinn wasn’t paying attention. He was too busy taking in the beautiful view over the moonlit loch. “What a wonderful place you’ve brought us to. Stunning scenery.” At that moment Percy flew down from the rooftop and perched on his hand. “Good evening, old pal,” Thorfinn said as he lovingly stroked the bird’s head. “This night just gets better and better.”
“Grrr!” Velda turned and reached for Oswald instead. “Come on!”
Oswald made a strange clucking sound like a surprised chicken. “You must be joking! Climbing down there – with my feet!”
Velda yelled with frustration, just as a guard rounded the corner.
“Hey you lot!” he cried.
They’d been caught.
CHAPTER 12
The following morning Thorfinn’s breakfast was served on a pewter tray scattered with rose petals. He had boiled eggs and buttered toast cut into soldiers.
“This place just keeps getting better and better,” he said. But Velda was outraged. She screamed like a Valkyrie, jumped on the poor steward’s back and pulled his head back by the nose.
“How DARE you serve such a breakfast to a Viking? We crush rose petals underfoot! And the only soldiers we eat for breakfast are real ones!”
It took a gang of Ranald’s men to pull her off.
Afterwards, the three prisoners were given mops and buckets and led to the top of the castle. “You’ve to start at the top and work your way down,” they were told.
Velda yelled after the guards as they left, “Oh, you’re going to be SOOOO sorry when the other Vikings come for us. They’re going to squash you into jelly and serve you with ice cream. They’re going to play marbles with your eyeballs, rounders with your kneecaps, football with your skulls. Oh yeah! They’ll churn you to a pulp! Then squirt you down a drain!”
Thorfinn smiled at his two friends and got to work. He put his heart and soul into it, whistling happily as he mopped his way down the corridor. “Well, this is fun,
isn’t it?” he said cheerily.
“No, it’s not, Thorfinn. This is no job for a Viking,” said Velda. “Is it, Oswald?”
But Oswald wasn’t listening, he was still deep in thought. “Two fathers, two sons, three birds. How? Hmmm…”
Velda growled and broke her mop over her knee. And then, for good measure, she broke Oswald’s as well.
“I’m off to the roof to figure out a new escape plan.” She grabbed a coil of rope that was hanging from a rack and disappeared up a flight of steps.
“Well, I no longer have a mop, so I may as well have a rest,” said Oswald, and he slumped down on the steps and immediately fell fast asleep.
“What a funny lot my friends are,” said Thorfinn, and he turned back to mopping the floor.
When Ranald returned to the castle after a busy day terrorising the local peasants, he noticed something alarming. The castle was no longer flying his red-wolf banner from the great tower. In its place was what looked like a white flag, a flag of surrender.
“Jings! What on earth has happened? Have we been invaded?”
He galloped into the courtyard, jumped off his horse and drew his sword. “What’s going on? There will be no surrender at Castle Red Wolf!”
But everyone in the courtyard was going about their business as normal. Glen looked at him with surprise. “Is something the matter, sire?”
Ranald jabbed his sword at the flagpole. “What’s the idea, flying a white flag?”
“Oh, that,” said Glen. “Don’t worry, that’s not a white flag.”
Ranald sheathed his sword. “Then what is it?”
“It’s the old man’s underpants.”
Ranald croaked. “WHAT?!”
“He’s been hanging his laundry up all over the battlements. Said they needed airing.”
“How dare he?! How dare you?! Take them down immediately!”
“Yes, Chief,” Glen bowed, then turned to one of his stewards. “You there, take down the old man’s underpants.”
The steward gulped. Then Oswald himself leaned out of a window on the first floor, shaking his fist.
“Oi! Keep your HANDS OFF MY UNDERPANTS!”
CHAPTER 13
Once Oswald’s pants had dried and the old wise man had taken them down, Ranald remembered about Thorfinn.
“How did the Viking boy fare with the cleaning?” he asked Glen. “Did he blub, did he whimper, did he bend?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“WHATTT?!”
“In fact he cleaned the whole castle from top to bottom. He also fixed the leaky roof.”
Ranald forgot himself for a moment. “Oh, the leaky roof, that’s good. It was right outside my chamber door. Drip, drip, drip – all night …” Then he caught himself. “Oh, wait, no! What do you mean he fixed the roof?!”
“And he fixed the drains too. That awful cabbagey smell in the corridor is gone.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“He also installed a belly-button-fluff collector in the bath house.”
“SHUDDUP!” cried Ranald angrily.
“It’s very good, actually. I tried it,” said Glen.
“SHUDDUP! SHUDDUP!” Ranald’s face had gone bright purple.
Glen pulled a scroll of paper from his tunic. “By the way, Winkie returned with the Vikings’ reply to your ransom note.”
“A-ha! At last some good news. This is what I’ve been waiting for.”
Ranald snatched it from his steward, unrolled it and read the message inside.
Ranald roared and tore the paper to pieces. “They’re playing mind games too. But I’m smarter than them. Thorfinn will crack soon. Tomorrow he will be forced to sew and weave – the ultimate insult for any Viking warrior. We’ll break him once and for all.”
***
Later that evening, Thorfinn was alone in his room, lying with his feet up, drinking a cup of hot tea. Winkie popped his head round the door and sneered at him.
“Would little lambkiny-wambkiny Viking boy like some nice hot buttered toast and a lambswool blankie?”
Thorfinn’s eyes lit up. “How thoughtful.”
Winkie scowled, then slammed the door shut and locked it. He hadn’t noticed Velda was missing, her place taken by a pillow hidden under a blanket.
A moment later, Percy appeared at Thorfinn’s window, flapping his wings. “Oh, hello, old pal,” said Thorfinn.
Percy took off again, fluttering about in the air excitedly.
“What’s the matter? Do you want me to follow you?”
“Coo coo!” replied Percy and he flapped his wings faster.
“Well, lead on.”
Thorfinn put his helmet on, then picked the lock, just like Velda had shown him. He crept down the corridor. At the end he found another window. A rope was hanging out of it, tied to the leg of a heavy oak table, which was wedged in the window frame.
“HELP!” came Velda’s voice from somewhere beyond the window. With Percy fluttering about his ears, Thorfinn leaned out to see Velda dangling from the other end of the rope about twenty feet off the ground.
Thorfinn raised his helmet. “Good evening, my dear friend, but isn’t it a bit late for abseiling?”
“Quit jabbering and pull me up!” Velda replied in a whisper. She was hanging outside the largest window of the great hall, where Ranald and his men were feasting.
“No problem, old friend,” said Thorfinn.
“Hurry!” she said through gritted teeth. She was trying not to move, hoping they wouldn’t spot her in the flickering light from their fire.
As Thorfinn began to pull, Winkie strolled over to the window. He peered out at Velda. Velda leaned forward and put on the scariest face she could. Winkie screamed.
“There’s a monster at the windie!”
Thorfinn gave one almighty heave and Velda flew up and onto the window ledge. Winkie turned back... and the monster was gone.
“Ha! No more ale for you,” said Ranald.
“PHEW!” said Velda as she climbed back inside. “Foiled again! The pesky rope was too short! This castle is proving really hard to escape from!”
CHAPTER 14
The next morning, Velda was awoken by Winkie yelling in her ear, “HE’S GONE!”
She tumbled out of bed. Winkie was staring in horror at Thorfinn’s empty bedcovers. He glared at her with his blinkie eyes. “Where’s the Viking boy?”
She was just as surprised as he was. “I dunno.”
Winkie cried out, “Sound the alarm. Thorfinn has escaped!”
Horns blared, hounds barked, men shouted. Then Ranald appeared, a look of smug satisfaction on his face.
“I knew he’d break somehow. Now he’s done a runner, it gives us the chance to hunt him down!” He turned to his men: “Unleash the dogs of war!”
***
In the courtyard, the hounds were baying for blood, and the horses strained at the leash as the search party mounted them. “After him!” cried Ranald.
“YYAHHH!” cried his men, and they charged out of the castle gate.
Shadowed closely by a guard, Velda followed them out to the drawbridge. It was only then, as Ranald and his men disappeared over the horizon in a cloud of dust, that Velda spotted Thorfinn.
He was sitting by the brook nearby, legs paddling in the water and a makeshift fishing rod in his hand. He was whistling and Percy was perched on his shoulder, cooing.
Velda ran over to him, while her nervous young guard drew his sword and called for reinforcements. “Thorfinn!” she said.
Thorfinn broke off his whistling, raised his helmet and smiled. “Good morning to you, dear friend. And to you, Mr Guardsman.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” said Velda.
“I hate to cause you any embarrassment, but isn’t it a bit obvious?” He held up the fishing rod. He’d already caught a couple of trout, which were lying next to him on the grass.
The guard held his trembling sword out at Thorfinn. “D-D-Don’t move!”
Thorfinn leaned forward and spoke quietly, “I don’t intend to. Movement might scare off the fish.”
“I don’t get it,” said Velda.
“I thought we might have something other than red meat on the menu tonight. It’s bad for our arteries.”
“I mean, how on earth did you escape?”
“Escape?” said Thorfinn, puzzled. “I just walked out the gate.”
Velda clutched her head with her hands. “I don’t believe it! I’ve been struggling to escape for days, and you just walk out the front door?”
“Yes,” said Thorfinn. “The nice man at the gate was sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him so early.”
More guards arrived and drew their swords.
“Watch him, he’s tricky!” said one.
“Get back inside now!” demanded another.
Thorfinn stood up. “Why, I’d be delighted to.”
They marched him back into the castle in front of a forest of sword points, and took him straight to a large room, where some women were spinning wool and sewing. As they looked up, Thorfinn removed his helmet and bowed. “Good day, dear ladies. I’m delighted to meet you.”
The women smiled. “What a pleasant wee laddie. Come and join us!”
Thorfinn sat down, looking at their sewing patterns with interest. “Pardon me, but would you mind if I had a go?”
Maggie, the head seamstress, handed Thorfinn a needle and thread.
After a huge battle, the guards finally pushed Velda into the room. She looked around in horror at everyone sewing, then screamed:
CHAPTER 15
It was late afternoon before Ranald and his men returned from their hunt, weary, sunburnt and downcast. Glen had the job of giving Ranald the bad news. Ranald’s face took on the look of a bulging volcano.
Thorfinn and the Rotten Scots Page 3
