“WHHHHAAAAATTTTT? You mean we’ve been coursing all over the hills and dales, scouring riverbeds, chasing through forests, and all the time he was RIGHT HERE?”
“I’m afraid so, sire.”
Ranald roared with anger. “And did you make him sew like I told you?”
“Yes, as instructed, sire.”
“AND?” he demanded angrily. “Did he squeal? Crumble? Beg? Even a little bit??”
“I’m afraid not. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it.”
“WHHHAAAATTT?!!” Ranald choked, his voice so high that some of the dogs started barking.
“In fact he taught the others some new sewing techniques. He’s now giving a sewing class each evening at seven. He also spruced up the castle menu. We’re having something called frittata tonight. And he helped the cook pass her hygiene certificate.”
Ranald dropped to his knees and glared up at the sky, shaking his fists.
When he got up, there was a determined look on his face. He drew his sword. “I have had it with this Viking boy. I’m going to deal with him once and for all. Where is he?”
***
Harald the Skull-Splitter and his men were hiding in the rocks that overlooked Castle Red Wolf.
Erik the Ear-Masher stood at Harald’s side, looking red-faced and sheepish. His hands were tied and there was a gag in his mouth. When Harald found out Thorfinn had been kidnapped, he’d soon uncovered Erik’s trick. Harald glared at Erik. He still hadn’t forgiven him for sending back the message telling the Scots to keep Thorfinn.
“I hope, for your sake, my boy is safe and well,” he said as he peered closely at the battlements.
Erik could only cough in response.
Soon Harald spied a weakness in the castle’s defences. “The sentry is looking the other way. Something must be distracting him, something from inside the castle...” He turned to his men. “Now’s our chance. You boys ready?”
The Vikings had their swords drawn, war paint smeared across their faces, and coils of rope and grappling hooks at the ready. The gleeful look on their faces said it all.
“Ready, boss!”
“Let’s bash those rotten Scots!”
“RAAAAAAAR!”
Harald turned to Erik. “OK, I’ve punished you enough, Ear-Masher.”
He slashed Erik’s bonds and removed the gag. Erik simply grunted and grabbed an axe.
Harald raised his sword over his head.
“VIKINGS, CHAAAAAAARGGGGE!”
CHAPTER 16
Meanwhile, Glen had taken Ranald to the practice yard, where practically everyone in the entire castle seemed to have gathered.
“What in the name of NESSIE’S BREEKS is going on here?”
Thorfinn was at the centre of the crowd sitting on a barrel. The castle wise men, Jock and Haggis, were propped up next to him. Everyone was listening intently.
Everyone, that is, apart from Velda, who was leaning against a wall with her arms folded.
“Go on, Thorfinn! Tell us another riddle,” the crowd urged him.
“Very well,” said Thorfinn:
“How far can a hound run into the woods?”
Oswald scratched his beard. “Hmm, now, it would depend on the wood, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” agreed Jock.
“Which wood is the hound running into?” asked Haggis.
“Ugh,” said Velda, rolling her eyes. “The answer’s halfway. It’s always halfway.”
“Very good,” replied Thorfinn. “It doesn’t matter what size the wood is, for once the hound is halfway through, if he keeps running he’ll be going out of the wood again.”
“Ah, very good, Thorfinn,” cried Oswald, who started a round of applause.
At that point Ranald barged through the crowd with his sword drawn. He was seething with anger as he thrust his sword point at Thorfinn. “I have had it, boy! I’m going to run you through!”
He hoisted his sword over his head, ready to strike.
Maggie jumped in front of Ranald just in the nick of time.
“Oh no you don’t!” Maggie yelled.
“WHATT?! What’s the meaning of this?” cried Ranald, still holding his sword aloft.
“We’re sick of you,” replied Maggie. “You’re horrible and mean all the time.”
Ranald turned to his men. “Are you listening to this?”
But the men just shrugged. “My missus isn’t happy,” said one.
“They told us we were all useless, filthy oafs,” said another. “And they’re right: all we do is rampage about the countryside pretending to be as tough as Vikings.”
“I wish you men were more like Thorfinn,” said one of the women.
“Such a charming gentleman,” agreed another.
Ranald practically had steam coming out of his ears. “You’re AGREEING with them?” he asked the men.
“We don’t want to be tough any more. We want to settle down and farm our crops,” said one man.
“Yes, let’s get this castle fixed up; it’s an embarrassment,” said Glen.
“Aye!” added Winkie. “And I’m fed up of you ordering me about aw the time—”
“ATTAAACK!” came another voice – a great booming one that Thorfinn recognised.
They turned to see Harald the Skull-Splitter standing on the battlements at the head of a heavily armed and seriously annoyed Viking band. The Vikings dropped to the ground from their ropes and surrounded the Scots.
“DAD!” cried Thorfinn, and he jumped into his father’s arms. Harald lifted him up in a huge hug.
“Are you alright, Thorfinn?”
“Alright?” said Thorfinn. “Of course I am. I’m having a wonderful time.”
Harald sighed with relief and put his son down. Then he turned to the MacRanalds and deployed his twitchy eye at them. Every man among them trembled. And they trembled a bit more when he lunged towards them.
“Now, what’s all this?” he yelled. “We go to all the trouble of launching a brilliant and daring surprise attack on your castle, only to find no one’s even watching! And you’re all down here listening to my son telling riddles!”
Ranald fell to his knees and his face crumbled. He blurted out, “Thank heavens you’ve come!”
“Eh?” The Vikings were a bit taken aback by this. They were still expecting a big fight, despite the easy start.
“I know you said in your note that I should keep Thorfinn,” said Ranald.
Harald shot a murderous look at Erik the Ear-Masher and his son, Olaf, who both shrank back out of sight.
“But, please, PLEASE…” Ranald clasped his hands together. “You’ve GOT to take him back. I can’t stand it any more. I can’t! I surrender!”
With that, Ranald collapsed on the ground, sobbing like a baby.
Thorfinn stepped forward. “I’m terribly sorry, but my father has come for me, so I’d better be going now.” He bowed at the Scots around him. “Thanks ever so much for having me.”
“It’s been our pleasure, Thorfinn,” said Maggie.
Thorfinn turned away, but he stopped to take off his helmet to Ranald, who looked up at him, his face streaked with tears.
“I’d like to thank you, Mr MacRanald, and all the staff. It’s been a wonderful holiday. I’ll try and come back next year.”
“WHAT? NOOOOOOO! Please! Go somewhere else! I hear England is lovely this time of year.”
“Call yourself The Red Wolf? Red Wimp more like,” said Velda, giving him a short, sharp kick in the ribs.
Harald shrugged and shook his head. “Let’s go home.”
Oswald slowly got to his feet, cradling his back, and glared at the Vikings. “Ooh, my bunions are the size of fruit scones. Who’s going to carry me?”
CHAPTER 17
On the way back to their longship, Harald confided in Thorfinn. “You defeated that tough old dog Ranald with kindness, Thorfinn. Don’t tell the others I said this, but even I know that sometimes it’s better to be nice.” He whispered the last bit.
“I find it’s always better to be nice, Father,” replied Thorfinn.
Oswald jumped in the air. “That’s it! I have the answer, Thorfinn. Two fathers and two sons in the wood, each bag a woodpigeon, but they only have three when they get home. The answer is there are only three men: a grandfather, a father and a son – which makes two fathers and two sons!”
Thorfinn beamed and shook the wise man’s hand. “Well done, old friend. You finally got it.”
Oswald began another elderly cakewalk. “At last!”
“It only took you a week,” said Velda.
“Here’s another one for you,” said Thorfinn.
“A man rides into an inn on Friday.
He stays two nights, then he rides out again on Saturday.
How can this be?”
Oswald groaned. “Oh no, that’s a hard one!”
“I think I’ll go and chuck myself in the sea,” said Velda.
Thorfinn laughed and stroked Percy, and Percy cooed back at him.
“Goodbye Scotland! Break out the ale!” cried Harald as they turned to the east, away from the setting sun. “Or, in Thorfinn’s case, the tea!”
“HUZZAH!” cried the crew as they sailed back towards Norway.
P.S. The horse was called Friday.
Copyright
Young Kelpies is an imprint of Floris Books
First published in 2016 by Floris Books
This eBook edition published in 2016
Text © 2016 David MacPhail. Illustrations © 2016 Floris Books
David MacPhail and Richard Morgan have asserted
their rights under the Copyright,
Designs and Patent Act 1988 to be
identified as the Author and Illustrator of this work
All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced without the prior permission
of Floris Books, Edinburgh
www.florisbooks.co.uk
British Library CIP data available
eISBN 9781782502302
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Thorfinn and the Rotten Scots Page 4
