by C. J. Busby
***
Max might have been feeling considerably happier about his trip, but there was no let-up in the rain. By the time everyone had gathered for farewells in the castle yard, they were all soaked through. Max’s brown hair was plastered to his skin, his pale freckled face standing out white against his wet hair and dark clothes. Olivia, muffled in a long cloak, came out to give him a hug.
“Have a good trip, Max,” she said encouragingly. And then, in a lower voice, “And keep your eyes peeled. You never know who might show up.”
Max frowned at her. “All right. But I hope you’re not planning anything.”
But all she did was smile, and wink.
Lady Griselda squeezed Max so hard he thought he might just die before he even got to Gore and save Morgana any trouble. She wiped her tears with an already sodden handkerchief.
“Oh Max – darling – be good. Be careful. Work hard. Good luck with all your spells – and remember to wash behind your ears.”
Sir Bertram clapped him heartily on the shoulder several times and brushed a hand across his eyes.
“Damned fly in my eye,” he said. “Be good, Max, take care, remember everything I’ve told you – and do us proud!”
Max nodded, and climbed slowly onto his horse. Sir Boris, who had been waiting for the fond farewells to finish, raised his arm to Sir Bertram and said, “Don’t worry Bertie, Max and I will have a fine old time. Can’t wait to tell him all about my last quest… Most interesting story!”
Max grimaced at Olivia, and waved to his parents. The drawbridge was lowered, they wheeled the horses round, and the two of them clattered out of the castle gate and down the muddy track leading north.
A Traveller in Disguise
The rain continued to fall steadily on Castle Perilous, trickling down the stone walls, dripping through holes in the roof, gusting in through the windows and making the tapestries damp. A puddle of water was spreading across the floor in a particularly damp and dark corner of the least-used turret of the castle, where Olivia was going over her plans, for the fifteenth time, with Adolphus.
“No, Adolphus. You need to have the potion bottle round your neck. I’ll be a frog. Frogs don’t have necks.”
“Oh, okay. Yes. But if you’re a frog, how will you get turned back?”
“You’ll have the antidote. In the potion bottle. Round your neck.”
“Oh, yes. In the bottle. Right then. But do we have to go now?” Adolphus was looking doubtfully out of the turret window at the rain, falling from the sky in grey sheets as if the gods had just emptied their bathwater on the castle. Olivia peered out and shuddered.
“Unfortunately, we do. We need to follow Max and Sir Boris, because I don’t know the way to Gore and neither do you.”
Olivia was dressed as a boy, in some old, dark and rather worn clothes of Max’s. Strapped to her belt were Max’s second-best sword, a small hunting knife and a large belt pouch. Her long dark-green dress was neatly folded on a chair in the corner, and laid forlornly across the dress were two neat dark plaits of hair. Olivia looked at the plaits rather regretfully for a minute, but then shrugged, and ran her fingers through her newly short hair until it looked nicely messy. Feeling in her belt pouch, she pulled out a small bottle – a bottle filled with some familiar-looking blue gunk.
I hope Max doesn’t need the frogspell before we get there, she thought. He’d get a shock if he did, because she’d replaced it with a very similar-looking mixture of porridge and blackberries. She took a deep breath.
“Well, Adolphus, here goes.”
She shook a small amount of gunk into her gloved hand, stowed the bottle in her pouch and then, shuddering slightly, flicked the frogspell onto her head. There was a BANG! and Olivia disappeared. In her place, looking rather dazed, was a small purple frog with red spots.
“Help!” said Adolphus. “Olivia’s gone! Where’s Olivia?!”
The frog rolled its eyes in exasperation.
“Adolphus!” it said, in Olivia’s voice. “You really are the limit! It’s me! It’s Olivia! I used the potion to turn myself into a frog. Like we agreed. It’s part of the plan!”
Adolphus looked at her for a minute, and then nodded and grinned happily. “Oh, yes! That’s right. Good! So – you’d better climb on my back and we’ll – um – well – I suppose I have to fly out of the window… into the rain…”
“Yes,” said the frog, not looking terribly happy about the idea. “I suppose so…”
She hopped over to Adolphus and scrambled onto his neck. It was rather difficult to work out how to hold on, what with only having webbed feet and Adolphus being covered in rather slippery scales. She teetered on his back for a minute or two, then decided to grab the leather cord she’d used to tie the potion bottle round his neck. She was only just in time, as Adolphus lurched onto the window ledge, poked his head out into the rain, took a deep breath and launched himself into the air.
***
It was mid-afternoon before Lady Griselda found the note from Olivia. The rain had stopped, and a watery pale sun was attempting to shine through thin grey clouds, but most of the castle still looked rather dark, wet and gloomy. Lady Griselda was feeling more than usually distracted, worried about how Max would manage up in Gore with Lady Morgana. She might be a very well-respected and important enchantress, but there was something not quite right about her. Too proud. Too cold. And just a bit too full of her own importance.
Lady Griselda sighed, ran her hands through her long red hair, and set off up the stairs. Olivia was supposed to be helping her polish the castle silver that afternoon, which meant she was almost certainly hiding in her chamber. But when Lady Griselda pushed open the door, there was no sign of Olivia. Instead, a smooth piece of parchment was laid carefully on the bed.
As Lady Griselda read it, she gasped, and turned pale. Tottering to the window, she leant out and spotted a familiar figure down in the castle yard.
“Bertram!” she shrieked. “Bertram! Come here! Olivia’s gone!”
She paced up and down the room wringing her hands until Sir Bertram burst in through the door. “Read it!' she said, gesturing to the parchment. He picked it up, frowning, and read:
Dear Mother
I have gone to Castle Gore. I want to join their squire training for the summer to get ready for the Challenge in September. And I want to be with Max. I have dressed as a boy and will just follow Max and Sir Boris to find the way. I have Adolphus to look after me so don’t worry.
Love,
Olivia
“Don’t worry? Don’t worry?!” Lady Griselda’s voice rose to a hysterical pitch. “She’s dressed as a boy! She’s travelling three hundred miles north on her own with a pea-brained dragon for protection! Bertram! You have to go and fetch her back at once!”
“Er, well, yes, of course m’dear,” said Sir Bertram soothingly. “I’ll get her back in a jiffy, just wait and see.”
“And what’s all this about the Squires’ Challenge? What on earth gave her the idea she could enter that? Bertram?! Is this anything to do with you?”
“Er, well… I may have, erm, slightly given her the impression that… well… that – er – you know – I’d really better be on my way if I’m going to catch her up. She’s got quite a head start…”
Lady Griselda looked at him backing out of the room and put her hands on her hips.
“Bertram! This is your fault! Putting ideas into her head… Go and get her at once! Saddle up Daisy. And when you get back, we WILL be having words about this…”
Sir Bertram sighed, and set off for the stables, shouting for someone to bring him his armour and someone else to pack the saddlebags. He’d been looking forward to a nice peaceful evening. Bit of hog roast. Jug of mead. Some tall tales by the fireside. And now here he was, setting off to traipse halfway across the kingdom after an errant daughter. Still, it needed to be done. Who knew what Olivia would get up to otherwise? They couldn’t have her all summer at Castle Gore dressed
as a boy, training to be a squire. She could hurt someone. Cause no end of fuss.
***
Olivia was miles away and feeling extremely pleased with herself. She was stretched out, draped across Adolphus’s back, with two froggy feet hooked firmly into the cord around his neck, soaking up the weak sunshine and keeping one eye on Max and Sir Boris, down below. Adolphus had quickly got the hang of flying high enough to be inconspicuous and was enjoying stretching his wings, soaring up on the thermals in a wide circle and then swooping back down.
“Wheee, this is fun!” he shouted. Olivia grinned. She had done it! She had escaped, just like she promised she would, and she was on her way to Gore with Max. Even better, there was a whole summer of training ahead before September, when she would compete in the Squires’ Challenge. She closed her eyes and conjured up a picture of herself, slightly battered and worse for wear but definitely the clear winner, holding up the Challenge Cup triumphantly while all around the spectators cheered and stamped wildly. She could see Max, waving and punching the air, and her father, looking proud, and beside him, the tall dark figure of King Arthur, his blue eyes bright, smiling at her…
“Waaahhh!” shrieked Adolphus. Olivia came back to the present with a jerk as the dragon suddenly plummeted.
“What? What’s wrong?” she shouted as Adolphus bucked and swung wildly to one side. She hung on desperately to the leather cord round his neck and tried not to slip.
“Adolphus! Get a grip! What’s the matter?” she shrieked as they started to fall through the air, wings fluttering wildly and Adolphus wailing. A dark shadow flashed across her vision and then she saw a huge bird, talons out, beak open in a terrifying shriek of triumph, diving straight for them.
“Help! Aaaarghh! Olivia!” shouted Adolphus as they spiralled downwards.
She barely had time to blink before the bird was on them. At the last possible moment Adolphus rolled sideways and it missed by a feather, whistling down past them before pulling up and soaring round for another try.
Adolphus was upright now, flying as fast as he could in the other direction, but the bird was faster. Olivia squinted at it. It looked huge – but then, she was a frog. Now she could see it clearly, she was pretty sure it was just…
“Adolphus! It’s just a buzzard! It’s nothing you can’t handle…”
“But it’s really big!” wailed Adolphus, flapping desperately to try and go a bit faster. “It’s really fierce! It wants to eat me!”
Olivia patted his neck with one foot, keeping the other firmly wrapped in the leather cord. “Adolphus, you’re a dragon! It can’t possibly eat you!”
“But it’s got talons!” said Adolphus, looking behind him and trying to take evasive action. “It’s got a really sharp beak!”
“Adolphus!” said Olivia crossly, as the bird got ready to dive again. “Pull yourself together! You’ve got claws – and you can breathe fire. For goodness’ sake. Just breathe fire at it!”
“Oh, yes,” said Adolphus, sounding relieved. “So I can. Although – it’s a bit difficult when you’re flying as well… I – er…”
Olivia looked behind her. The buzzard was dive-bombing them again, beady black eyes looking right at her, the cruel curved beak open, just ready to snatch her off Adolphus’s back.
“Adolphus!” she yelled. “Breath fire! Now!”
A jet of orange-yellow flames scorched past her and enveloped the surprised bird, which disappeared down through the air, flapping wildly and looking rather blackened. Olivia shrank down onto Adolphus’s neck and tried not to fall off as the dragon, seriously unbalanced by his sudden act of bravery, plunged sideways. With a great effort, he finally straightened up, narrowly missing a tree, and they glided gently down. They landed by the side of a marshy pond, a few hundred yards from a rather dark and gloomy forest.
Both of them took a couple of minutes to recover, breathing deeply.
“Troll’s toenails, Adolphus,” said Olivia at last. “I thought I was dinner for sure. That, or splattered in pieces across the ground.”
Adolphus gulped. “I’m sorry. I – it’s just – it was a bit scary. It had a very sharp beak.”
He looked rather shame-faced. Olivia gave him a pat.
“Never mind,” she said, soothingly. “You scared it off in the end.”
“I did, didn’t I?” said Adolphus, cheering up and bouncing his tail. “Whoosh! Fire!”
“Um, the only thing is,” said Olivia, looking around. “I don’t suppose you have any idea where we’ve ended up?”
Adolphus, predictably, didn’t. It was twilight before they finally gave up trying to find Max and Sir Boris, or the road north, and decided to settle down for the night in a tree at the edge of the forest. Olivia could barely see the line of the cart track nearby, winding into the forest just yards from their perch. Adolphus was fast asleep, draped over a branch, but she was still wide awake and nervously twitching at every strange sound. She thought she could hear a horse snorting, and peered anxiously through the gloom. There. It was definitely a horse. Was it Max and Sir Boris?
A last finger of red-gold sunlight filtered through the trees and picked out the figure of a lone knight, ambling along the track on a dapple-grey horse. Olivia pushed herself further into the tree and froze as the knight passed below and rode into the forest. She couldn’t see past Adolphus, so she missed the sight of both the knight’s truly magnificent moustache and the familiar bulk of his armour as he slumped on his sturdy grey mare.
“Damned blasted girl,” the knight was muttering as he plodded on through the trees. “Could have been all warm and tucked up by the fire by now, nice jar of spiced mead Squire training indeed! When I catch up with her it’ll be six weeks of kitchen-wench training, and that’s a promise!”
Kissing a Frog
The next morning dawned cold but bright. Adolphus woke up with a jerk, and fell out of the tree, dislodging Olivia, who landed with a splat on top of him.
“Aaargh – where – what? What?” he yelled, and started chasing his tail round in circles, snapping, until he realised what it was. He stopped, and coughed self-consciously.
“Good morning, Adolphus!” said Olivia cheerily.
“Erm… er… yes. Hello!” said Adolphus, looking slightly cross-eyed, and trying to focus on the small purple frog in front of him. She clambered up onto his back and then hooked her froggy legs into the cord around his neck.
He blinked, and thought very hard, and then remembered what was going on. Of course! It was Olivia! And they were following Max to Castle Gore. They were all going to have a fantastic adventure and do lots of breathing fire and chasing people. Yippee!
He soared into the air and started to circle upwards on warm air currents, while Olivia peered down, looking for the right road. There were rather a lot of paths and tracks and she really didn’t have any idea which one to take, but so long as they kept going north, they were bound to get there eventually. Weren’t they?
***
Sir Bertram woke up, with a slight sense of panic, unable to open his eyes. He had spent the night at a local inn, having failed to find Olivia, or catch up with Max and Sir Boris, and was currently lying on a small hard bed in a room upstairs. He tried again to open his eyes, and with a huge effort managed to unglue one eyelid. It was a start. He would probably catch up with Sir Boris today, and presumably Olivia too – but he’d definitely need to get out of bed quite soon. His head was hurting rather, and the light filtering in through the window shutters seemed particularly bright and strong. Sir Bertram heaved himself off the pillow and took a full blast of sunlight to the eyes. Searing pain exploded in his head and he fell back on the bed groaning.
It was all coming back to him.
He really shouldn’t have got quite so friendly with the landlord last night. He should have stopped at the fourth jug of mead. But once the landlord heard that he’d won the ‘Knight Who Can Quaff the Most Ale in a Single Swallow’ three times running he’d insisted on a demonstrat
ion. And then another. Several in fact. And Sir Bertram knew from bitter experience that the earliest he could hope to have the use of his legs was midday. Dimly he remembered promising Lady Griselda that he’d have Olivia safely back in Castle Perilous by the next morning. He groaned, pulled his cloak over his head and tried to compose his excuses.
***
Sir Boris was about halfway through the tale of his thrilling visit to the castle of his second cousin twice removed by marriage, and it was only midday. He’d got to the bit where he went for a walk and met a boy who turned out to be his Aunt Gladys’s son’s best friend’s brother. Max was trying hard to appear interested, but he was wondering how much more of the story he could take before he fell off his horse with boredom.
“Ferocious,” he whispered, as they plodded on with Sir Boris droning away, “do you think if I fell off Arnold head first, I could knock myself out enough to be unconscious all the way to Gore?”
The rat considered.
“Probably not. But it would almost be worth the risk. If I have to listen to much more of Sir Boris and his fascinating relatives, I might just end up chewing my tail off for some light relief.”
“All right back there?” called Sir Boris, twisting round in the saddle. “Thought I heard voices?”
“No, no,” said Max, through gritted teeth. “Do go on with the story.”
He glanced down at Ferocious, curled up in his belt pouch, and raised one eyebrow. The rat grinned, showing his pointy yellow teeth.
“Never mind, Max. Only another day or so of torture. And then it’ll be Gore, and watching out for the lovely Lady Morgana… And proving to Merlin that you’re his best spy. After me, of course. Should be fun!”
Max nodded, feeling cheered. It was a shame Olivia and Adolphus wouldn’t be there with them. They made a good team. He wondered how they were doing back at Castle Perilous.
