The Adventures of Alfie Onion

by Vivian French

  “We’ll head for the castle,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE MAGPIES CIRCLED the castle battlements as the early morning sun was just beginning to break through the clouds. Perce landed on a turret and looked round. “Nice view! You can see right over the forest.”

  Kev came to perch beside him. “We’re not here to look at the view, buddy. Got to check out the scene.” He peered downwards and whistled. “Ogres ahoy! Big ogres, too!”

  “Awk!” Perce wobbled for a moment as he took in the size of the two figures slumped below. Wild thorny roses surrounded the castle as far as the eye could see, but a crooked pathway had been trampled through, and between the gates and the main entrance where the ogres lay nothing was left but broken stems and crushed petals and leaves. “They’re GIGANTIC,” Perce said. “And ever so ugly. And hairy. Hairy and scary.”

  Perce was right. The ogres had bristling eyebrows, and enormous noses covered in whiskers and warts. They appeared to be asleep, but the younger one’s eyelids flickered, his huge hairy toes twitched, and every so often he shivered.

  Kev watched with his head on one side. “Looks like that one’s having a bad dream. Serves him right.”

  “What’s an ogre scared of, Kev?” Perce asked. “If I was that big I wouldn’t be scared of anything.”

  Kev scratched his neck. “You’ve got a point. H’m. Think I’ll have a quick squiz the other way.”

  He stretched his wings and flew to the other side of the battlements, leaving Perce studying the ogres.

  “Awk?” he said, by way of experiment. “AWK?”

  The younger ogre opened his eyes, looked up – and leapt to his feet, roaring, “AAAAAGH!”

  Perce was so surprised he fell off his turret, saving himself with wild flutterings.

  “AAAAAAGH!” The ogre shook his father awake and pointed at Perce. “AAAAAAAAGH!”

  The magpie decided it was time to remove himself from view. He scrambled away as a deep voice boomed, “Flugg! Stupid Flugg!”

  “But Dadda—” Flugg’s voice was squeakier than his father’s, and younger than Perce had expected— “Dadda I saw a bad sign! A bad sign black and white bird! It means bad bad things, Dadda!”

  “Rubbish.” The older ogre was angry. “You talk rubbish, Flugg! There is no bad bird, no bad sign. Lie down and sleep.” He yawned, and rolled over.

  Flugg, huge as he was, began to grizzle. “Can’t sleep, Dadda. Want to go home…”

  His father grunted. “One more prince and all is good. GOOD, do you hear? One prince and six princes is seven for pie! Special Princes Pie for Flugg, to make him bold and handsome!”

  But Flugg wasn’t interested in pie. He was walking to and fro, staring up at the battlements and muttering to himself, “Bad bad bird…”

  On an inspiration, Perce popped his head out, waved a wing and disappeared again. He was thrilled to hear a wail of terror from down below.

  “What’s going on?” Kev had flown back. Perce, first checking that neither of them could be seen, explained. “Wooooeee!” Kev looked at Perce with something approaching admiration. “Ogres are scared of magpies! COOL!”

  Perce shook his head. “Only the young one.” He gave a small smug cough. “I’m a terrible bad sign!”

  “Excellent!” Kev jumped happily from foot to foot. “Keep it going, Perce! Pop up and down and keep him twitchy, buddy. There’s an interesting chimney I want to check…” And he was gone.

  “Kev thought I was clever,” Perce told himself proudly. “Nobody’s ever said that before. Awk!”

  He celebrated by making another brief appearance on a different turret, and was rewarded by yet another agonised howl from Flugg. He was so delighted that he flew a triumphant loop … and just missed being hit by a well-aimed rock.

  “GET AWAY, BIRD!” Flugg’s father was picking up a second rock, a fierce look on his whiskery face.

  “Ooops!” Perce retired behind a flagpole.

  Kev was inspecting a chimney on the far side of the castle. He had noticed a thin wisp of smoke rising into the early morning sky when he and Perce arrived, and although there was now no sign of it he was intrigued.

  Someone’s in there, he thought, and he hopped round the pot, listening. Was someone singing? He couldn’t be sure. With an “Ak ak ak” of irritation he flew across to a tall pine tree to have a better view of the castle windows.

  “Shoo! Get away, you thief! I know your kind, and we don’t want you here. Shoo!” A large pigeon was flapping her wings and trying to push Kev off his branch. “Shoo, I said! SHOO!”

  “My dear lady,” Kev began, but the pigeon was determined to get rid of him.

  “Don’t you go my dear ladying me! As if we don’t have enough to deal with, what with ogres stomping about making a mess and scaring my chicks and making that poor girl’s life a misery. So be off with you! Shoo!”

  Deciding there was no point in arguing, Kev flew back to the castle. It was only as he landed that he realised what the pigeon had said. A girl! Might it be a princess? A princess singing inside the castle? Kev put his head on one side and shut his eyes in order to concentrate.

  Perce fluttered over to join him. “Got a headache, Kev?” he asked tenderly.

  “No!” Kev snapped. “I’m trying to listen.”

  “OK,” Perce said. “Did you see the boy?”

  Kev opened his eyes. “What boy? Where?”

  “Over there, look. Coming this way. The one we saw with the hero, Kev. But the hero’s not there. Just the boy … and a mouse. Oh – and there’s a lady ogre carrying a cage on the other side of the trees.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  IT WAS LUCKY FOR ALFIE that Bilinda chose that moment to burst into song.

  “La la la la!” she carolled. “Bilinda is ever so ever so happy! Not lonely no more!”

  Alfie, seeing a large hollow tree, scrambled inside as fast as he could. “How close is she?” he whispered. “Do you think she saw us?”

  Norman, dozing in Alfie’s pocket, had woken with a start. After listening for a moment he shook his head. “Far enough.” He paused. “She’d smell you before she saw you. Bad eyesight, excellent sense of smell. Talking of which, might I recommend a wash when you have the opportunity? We’re heading for a castle, remember. It’s just possible that you might meet a princess, and there’s an unfortunate whiff of sewage about you that she might not appreciate.”

  There was no answer. The hollow tree was warm, the leaves were soft, and Alfie hadn’t slept for a very long time. Norman gave an irritated sniff and scampered out of his pocket so he could pull the boy’s hair.

  Alfie stirred, but didn’t wake. “I’ll do the washing up in a minute, Ma,” he murmured, then sank back into his dreams. Norman tutted angrily and ran to peer out of the tree. There was no sign of Bilinda, but he could still hear her; she was chatting happily about sausages and chocolates and ickle pickle darlings.

  Curiosity overcame caution. Norman scrambled out of his hiding place, leaving Alfie snoring gently. The mouse slipped in and out of the undergrowth until he found a beech tree with low-lying branches. With a twirl of his tail he climbed until he had a clear view.

  Bilinda was stomping along a well-trodden path that led to the gap her father and brother had made in the thorns surrounding the castle. Her birdcage was in one hand and a large canvas bag was in the other. Norman could see Magnifico sitting in the cage; he was still covered in grey slime but it had dried and was beginning to flake off. It did not improve his appearance, but Bilinda seemed even more devoted than she had been the night before. She cooed and murmured to her prisoner, and every so often she put the cage down so she could give him a treat from her bulging pockets. Magnifico accepted these offerings with enthusiasm and, much to Norman’s astonishment, sounded grateful.

  “Ta,” he said, and Bilinda clapped her hands.

  “Such a poppetty darling! He’s Bilinda’s bestest sweetie! And what would chubbly wubbly
like next?”

  “Sausages,” said the chubbly wubbly, “please.”

  Norman nearly fell off his branch.

  “DAUGHTER!” The ogre’s shout made the trees quiver. “DAUGHTER! Where’s my food? Grindbone is HUNGRY!”

  Bilinda’s face lost its beaming smile. She hid Magnifico’s cage in a clump of bracken, and scurried forward clutching the bag.

  “Here, Dadda.”

  Her father came marching towards her, his hand outstretched. “Give! You is USELESS girl! You is LATE!” Snatching the bag, he slapped Bilinda so hard she reeled backwards. “LAZY! Why you late?”

  Flugg appeared behind his father, scowling heavily. “Where my sausages, stupid?” He tried to grab the bag from his father and a tussle took place, each trying to be the first to pull out the sausages. When they finally managed to heave out a couple of long strings they stuffed them into their mouths with their enormous hands, snuffling and dribbling as they did so.

  “What next?” Flugg demanded. He dived back into the bag, and pulled out a lump of burnt bread. “RUBBISH!” He hurled it at Bilinda, and searched again. A chunk of raw meat proved more satisfactory, and he tore at it with a grim determination, glaring at his sister all the while. “When I King of Castle,” he said, “you will be nowhere, stupid Bilinda. You will be gone! Flugg will have pretty princess to make food for him … not stupid lazy ogre girl like you!” And he began to crack the bone with his strong yellowed teeth.

  Up on the roof Kev clicked his beak in surprise. “Hey, Perce! Hear that? The ogre’s after the princess! AND the castle!”

  Bilinda glared back at her hideous brother. “You is wrong, Flugg! Dadda will let Bilinda stay in castle too!” Her voice was not as confident as her words, and she gave her father an anxious glance. “Is so, Dadda?”

  Her father wheeled round, and slapped her a second time, this time so hard he knocked her over.

  “Stupid! Flugg not want you! Grindbone not want you. Grindbone never want you – you is useless girl. NOBODY want you when Flugg King of Castle!” He heaved the bag away from his son, pulled out a handful of cold meat pies and crammed them into his mouth, talking all the time and spitting crumbs in all directions. “Pretty princess will see Bilinda and say UGLY UGLY UGLY, so Bilinda must go way for ever ever EVER…” He stopped, and began to sniff the air. “What? What what WHAT? Does I smell human?”

  Bilinda, tears rolling down her cheeks, sat up. “No, Dadda! Not human! Is … is yummy pie that Bilinda made for Dadda and Flugg.” Her voice was growing more and more desperate. “Look in bag, Dadda. See yummy pie, Dadda! Look in bag!”

  Her father ignored her. Piggy little eyes half-closed, he was sniffing from left to right and up and down. “Is human,” he muttered. “I smell human. Grindbone’s nose never wrong. Is prince? Prince for pie … but where? WHERE?” With a grunt he focused his gaze on the path Bilinda had just hurried down. “Is there. Human is there.” And he began lumbering towards the bracken where the cage was hidden, Flugg at his heels.

  “NO, Dadda!” Bilinda screamed, and she clutched at her father’s ragged trousers as he passed her. “Is my dearest chubbly wubbly and I found him and is mine! Isn’t prince! Is ickle pickle! Is MINE!”

  She was too late. Her father had found the cage, and Magnifico’s piercing shriek of terror shocked the two magpies on the castle roof.

  “Get ready for action, Perce,” Kev warned. “Can’t quite see who’s down there in that cage. Just a minute … wowsers! It’s the hero! And the ogre’s shaking the cage to get him out – and the ogre girl’s on her knees crying her eyes out – and her brother’s trying to kick her out of the way.”

  Perce blinked. “That’s not very nice, Kev,” he said. “That’s not nice at all.”

  “Certainly isn’t,” Kev agreed. “Right! Magpie deployment! We’ll give him some Terrible Bad Luck…” And with a loud “Akakakakakakak”, he swooped down and circled above the ogres’ heads.

  “AAAGH!” Covering his hairy head with his hands, Flugg abandoned his weeping sister and rushed for the castle as fast as his heavy legs would carry him. “Bad! BAD!” he yelled, and hurled himself into the thickest of the thorns at the bottom of the tower.

  Grindbone, taken by surprise, dropped the cage and Bilinda flung herself on top of it, cuddling the bars and trying to soothe the terrified Magnifico.

  For a moment the enormous ogre stood still, staring blankly after his son. In the distance a horse whinnied … and the ogre’s face brightened. “PRINCE!”

  Looking first at the cage, and then away beyond the castle, Grindbone tried to think what to do next. “Catch prince…” he decided. “Prince for pie!” He rubbed his enormous hairy hands together and chuckled as he considered the future. “First prince, then pie, then princess, then castle, then gold! Ha!”

  Bending down, he caught the sobbing Bilinda by the arm and jerked her to her feet. “Go!” he ordered. “Put human in cupboard with princes.” He licked his red rubbery lips, and patted his bulging stomach. “Will eat with pie.” A thought came to him, and he heaved a jangling bunch of keys out of his pocket. “Put in cage and give poppy snail soup. Keep quiet … keep sleepy.” Shaking his daughter ferociously to make sure she understood, he grinned a hideous broken-toothed grin. “No trickeries, mind! If human not in cupboard, Dadda will eat YOU, Bilinda!” He gave the girl ogre one last violent shake, then flung her into the bracken and marched off to the castle. His daughter crawled to the cage and peered inside.

  “Is all right, ickle pickle dearest,” she whispered. “Bilinda will run away with chubbly wubbly. Bilinda promises will keep ickle pickle safe safe safe!”

  Chapter Seventeen

  ALFIE HAD HEARD HIS BROTHER’S SCREAM in his sleep, and it had become part of a nightmare full of wriggling white maggots and faceless figures buried in heaps of feathers. He woke with a start; someone was pulling his nose.

  Brushing leaves away from his face, Alfie sat up and saw the small scrawny troll who had shaken his fist when Magnifico upset Rootlie Toot.

  “Hello,” Alfie said. “Erm … how do you do?”

  The little troll shook his head. “No time for jibber jabber. You is here to tricksie Grindbone and Flugg?”

  Alfie hesitated. “Yes?”

  “Good!” The troll nodded his approval. “Rootlie Toot smiley all over! He hear badness brother shut in cage – he say, ‘Ha! Good catching! Now hero can tricksie ogres!’ Will go tell Rootlie Toot all is true.”

  And the troll was gone.

  “Norman?” Alfie sat up straight and looked round for the mouse. “Have I been asleep long? Norman, where are you?” Not wanting to raise his voice above a whisper, he gave a low whistle.

  “Oi!” An outraged Norman came scampering towards him. “What’s with the whistle?”

  “Sorry,” Alfie apologised. “I didn’t know where you’d gone. Have I been asleep for ages? I’ve just seen a troll! What’s going on?”

  Norman gave a sour chuckle. “You’ve managed to sleep through your brother being caught by the ogres at the castle.”

  “WHAT?”

  The mouse twirled a whisker. “No worries. He hasn’t been eaten yet. He’s with the girl ogre, and she’s feeding him chocolate to soothe his nerves. Then she wants them to run away together.” Norman sniffed. “There’s no accounting for taste. He’s that way.” He pointed towards the path.

  Forgetting that he might be putting himself in serious danger, Alfie jumped out of the hollow tree and dashed in the direction Norman had shown him. His progress was hardly silent, but Bilinda, bending tenderly over the birdcage, didn’t hear him or see him until he was standing right beside her.

  “Let my brother go!” Alfie shouted. “Please … PLEASE let him go!”

  Bilinda sat back and stared in astonishment, her blue eyes very wide. “Is another human!”

  “Alfie?” Magnifico was sitting on his perch, his mouth smeared with chocolate. “Where have you been? I was attacked by an ogre. He swung me in the air
. He wanted to eat me.” His frown grew fiercer. “Ma said you were to look after me! YOU were meant to be eaten first, and it was nearly ME!”

  “Will be no eating, ickle pickle,” Bilinda said. Her face was badly bruised and wet with tears, but she was doing her best to smile. “Bilinda promises.”

  “Good,” Magnifico gave a regal nod, then glanced at Alfie to see if he was listening. “See? YOU don’t look after me, but Bilinda does.”

  But Alfie’s attention was elsewhere. He had seen the bunch of keys lying in the bracken, and his heart was beginning to race. He took a deep breath, and looked up at the ogre. “Are those the keys to the cage? The cage in the cupboard in your house?”

  “Not ever going to house again,” Bilinda told him. “Am running away from mean horrid Dadda and mean horrid Flugg … never going back. Never!”

  Alfie’s head was whirling. If he had the keys he could release the princes, and there would be no Princes Pie. But surely the most important thing was to get the ogres out of the way? If he didn’t, there was no way Magnifico could kiss the princess. Could he somehow lead the ogres away from the castle? Was there some way they could be distracted? If he waited till night, could he and Magnifico tiptoe past their huge sleeping bodies? But DID ogres sleep?

  And then it came to him. The sleeping potion! The sleeping potion that Grindbone had given the princes. If the ogres were drugged, he could sneak Magnifico into the castle to kiss the princess…

  But how could he get hold of the potion? And would it work on the ogres? If it did, and he and Magnifico reached the princess safely, what would happen next? Would the fact that the hero had won his princess be enough to send the ogres running away? That was how one of his mother’s fairy tales ended … but would Grindbone and Flugg know that was the expected behaviour?