To their immense relief, when Medulla finally ushered them into a grimy corridor in the far reaches of the castle, they had encountered no one. It was a relatively short passage and was sealed at the far end by a heavy door with iron studs, large decorative iron hinges and an iron-framed keyhole.
Medulla inserted a large key into the keyhole, and twisted it.
The door opened into darkness and a star-speckled sky.
‘This way,’ said Medulla, leading them down a flagstoned pathway between raised beds of silhouetted plants. Felix realised that Medulla was guiding them through the palace kitchen gardens.
They smelled the stables before they reached them. Felix was familiar enough with the smell of horses. His grandfather used to drive him to a local horse stud where the owners let them shovel horse manure into sacks for his grandfather’s garden. It was a not unpleasant smell: rich, almost earthy, and promising fat cabbages and bright carrots. But the smell of the stables they were approaching was not like that. It was flatter, sourer, pungent. It was not pleasant at all.
‘What’s that?’ asked Myrtle, screwing her nose. ‘Ugh!’
Medulla, without comment, opened the door of a low stone building and beamed a torch about. There were stalls in the building, but lower than the stalls Felix was expecting. The smell here was even stronger, and more acrid.
Finding what he was looking for, Medulla gathered an armload of bridles, and thrust them into Felix’s arms.
‘Now saddles,’ Medulla muttered.
Suddenly, Bella said urgently, ‘Medulla! Your torch!’
‘What is it?’
‘But these are pigs!’
‘Of course they’re pigs,’ said Medulla mildly.
He stood beside Bella, leaning over the nearest stall’s double gate. Myrtle and Felix hurried to join them. Medulla directed the beam of his torch. There, looking up at them placidly, was a very large, very black pig.
‘Oink,’ it said good-naturedly.
It was not the size of the pig that was astonishing, however, nor its surprising good temper, given that it had probably been woken up in the dead of night.
It was the fact that, folded into its flanks, as if it were an oversized blackbird, were two giant black wings.
While Felix held the torch, Medulla swiftly fitted the leather bridles over the snouts of three of the pigs he had led out of their stalls, and then expertly secured the saddles with stirrups attached. The three pigs seemed quite accustomed to this procedure, obediently lifting their wings to enable the girths of the saddles to be attached. Medulla buckled the girths firmly enough so that the saddles would not slip, and then, asking Felix to extinguish the torch, opened the stable door and encouraged the pigs outside into the garden.
Bella, Felix and Myrtle watched these proceedings with growing apprehension. Now that they were standing beside them, they could see just how big the pigs were.
‘We’re going to ride these things?’ asked Bella.
‘You and Felix are,’ said Medulla firmly. ‘I will ride this one with Myrtle in front.’
‘But what will we do?’ asked Bella.
‘Have you been on a merry-go-round at a fair?’ asked Medulla, and then, not waiting for a reply, continued, ‘It’s just the same. Hold tightly to the reins and lean forward. The pigs will follow me and because they’ll be flying you won’t be bounced about as if you were on a horse. Okay?’
Bella was very unsure whether it would be okay or not, but said, ‘I guess …’
‘It will have to be,’ said Medulla. ‘Remember what you said: your way or the highway?’
Bella nodded.
‘This is your way, the only way, the sky way.’
‘How do we get on?’ asked Felix.
‘Easy,’ said Medulla. ‘One foot in the stirrup and throw the other leg over. The pigs are super-bright. Once you’re in the saddle, they’ll know exactly what to do. But we must hurry.’
‘Here goes, then,’ said Felix. He did as he was instructed, seized the reins and leant forward. Over his shoulder, he saw Bella do the same. They waited — or rather their pigs waited — until Medulla had organised Myrtle and climbed up behind her on his own pig.
‘Let’s go,’ hissed Medulla.
In the darkness, Felix could just make out the dark shape of Medulla’s pig as it ran down the garden path, trotters clattering on the flagstones. To his astonishment the pig accelerated away from them and then leapt into the darkness as if it were jumping a fence, but instead of describing an arc to land on the other side, the pig spread its great black wings rather like a seagull and kept on rising, rising. As if on cue and without her prompting it, Bella’s pig did the same, and within seconds it, too, was disappearing into the sky above.
As soon as Bella and her pig had disappeared, Felix’s pig gave a little grunt and began moving. After a few hesitant steps it broke into a lumbering run, clattering down the garden path gathering a surprising amount of speed. Felix leant low in the saddle, readying himself for the inevitable leap, which was signalled by the pig’s lifting its wings and the sudden silence as the pig left the ground. Felix was aware all at once that they were rising high into the air. There was no let-up in speed, and he could feel the wind ruffling his hair. As Medulla had told them, it was a smooth ride with none of the jarring bouncing he associated with horse-riding, only a not unpleasant rolling motion as the pig barrelled through the night sky.
Felix knew that for as long as he lived, he would remember that incredible flight through the night over Axillaris. When he looked down, his head tucked beside the pig’s dark flank, he could see the shadowy shapes of the town, the square, the stately buildings surrounding it looking as though they were made of black Lego. When he lifted his head and gazed above, he could see the great bowl of the sky, dusted with glittering stars presided over by a white crescent moon. Ahead and alongside he could see Medulla and Myrtle leading the way, and Bella crouched low in her saddle.
It was utterly exhilarating and he desperately wanted to shout Yahoo! like a demented cowboy, but worried that such a wild shout might alarm the pig. The exhilaration was the freedom of it all, of course. Not just the freedom of flying, but also the freedom and relief of having escaped from the palace and all the dread it contained.
Dawn was still some time off, but there was enough moonlight and starlight to indicate that they had left the town behind them and were flying up the contours of a hill, presumably the hill they had descended in the cable-car. All at once Felix could see that the lead pig with Medulla and Myrtle had adjusted its wings and was embarked on a descent. Shortly afterwards he realised that his pig and Bella’s pig were following suit.
The descent was rapid. Felix could just make out a building on a large terrace near the top of the hill, and then within moments the pig had leant back with wings lifted high and outstretched to brake its landing. Moments later, there was a thump, the clatter of trotters on stone again, and then the pig folded its wings once more against its flanks.
Even before he had climbed off his pig, a little groggy still with the exhilaration and amazement of it all, Felix heard Medulla’s footsteps as he raced towards the building.
Next he heard a furious banging on the door.
‘Let us in!’ shouted Medulla. ‘Let us in! It is vital you let us in!’
Gray stays away
Once Mr Porterfield had taken away the red Rusty, Mum said, ‘Well, that does it! It doesn’t matter whether we have work tomorrow or not, John. One of us will have to take those blasted rats to the vet. I mean, it could be the start of something really nasty like mad cow disease, or bird flu.’
‘Wasn’t the plague and the Back Death caused by rats?’ Martha asked innocently.
That really set Mum off.
‘Exactly!’ exclaimed Mum. ‘That is my point exactly! We just don’t know how awful this could be!’
‘There could be carts going up and down the road with guys shouting “Bring out your dead!”’ added Martha.
‘Martha!’ warned Dad. ‘That’s not helpful. Don’t worry, Nancy, I promise I’ll take the rats to the vet first thing tomorrow.’
Once again, I glanced at Uncle Felix to see whether or not he was about to offer his signal theory about why the rats had changed colour, but once again it looked like he wasn’t prepared to. Not yet, anyway. Instead he said, trying to calm Mum’s wilder fears, ‘I don’t really think it’s much to worry about, Nancy. I’m sure the rats don’t have any notifiable diseases or anything.’
‘Maybe not,’ said Mum, ‘but we do need to know that.’
‘I don’t suppose it will do any harm,’ said Uncle Felix, conceding the point, ‘but I rather think the vet will find absolutely nothing to worry about.’
‘Time will tell,’ said Dad.
There was a slight awkwardness in the room and I thought it best to change the subject.
‘I did meet Uncle Felix’s friend today, Mum,’ I said.
She looked at me, remembering. ‘Of course, that’s right, you were going to. I quite forgot. How was it?’ she asked. ‘Or rather, who was it?’
‘A woman,’ I said.
‘Go on.’
‘Her name is Dr Briggs.’
‘I don’t think I know her.’
‘I think you do in a way. She’s an expert on kids books.’
Mum looked at me, knowing I was spinning it out.
‘She has bright red hair …’
Mum shook her head. ‘I definitely don’t know her then.’
‘I think you do,’ I said.
I glanced at Uncle Felix. He was smiling. ‘Her name is Dr Bella Briggs,’ I said triumphantly. ‘Do you know her now?’
Mum looked puzzled for a second and then the penny dropped.
‘Bella Briggs? Bella? The Bella from Into Axillaris? Is she a real person, then?’
‘Well, she was pretty real today in the café,’ I said.
‘What’s all this about, Uncle Felix?’ asked Mum, turning to him. ‘Have you been playing a joke on David?’
‘Not at all,’ said Uncle Felix easily. ‘Bella is very real and was at the festival as well, to deliver a paper. I thought that David here, given his interest in the book, might be interested to meet the original Bella.’
‘Goodness,’ said Mum. ‘The original Bella …’ She smiled at me. ‘You’re a lucky thing, David. What’s she like?’
‘She’s okay,’ I said.
She had been, too. I liked her. I’d been drawn into the conversation and she hadn’t asked me stupid things about whether I liked my school and my teachers and what I hoped to be when I grew up — you know, the dicky things adults say to kids when they haven’t got anything to say to kids. Instead we’d talked about fantasy books and about the red rats and stuff like that.
‘I wondered …’ began Uncle Felix.
Mum looked his way.
‘I wondered, Nancy, whether you’d like to meet her, too? I know you liked the books and I’m sure you’d like Bella … I don’t really want to impose on you, but the festival finishes tomorrow and I could invite her to dinner after it’s all over …’
Mum grinned. ‘It wouldn’t be any problem at all,’ she said. ‘I’d love to meet her. Such a treat! I didn’t know she was a real person.’
‘Splendid,’ said Uncle Felix, ‘I’m so pleased you agreed. Actually, I’m particularly pleased.’
‘Particularly,’ asked Mum. ‘Why?’
Uncle Felix gave her a little sheepish grin. ‘Because I’d already invited her,’ he said.
At that point the phone rang, and Mum left the table to answer it. It was Robbie, one of Gray’s mates. When Mum picked up the phone she’d been beaming with the thought of meeting Bella Briggs. As she listened, though, her expression changed to an irritated frown.
‘Thank you, Robbie,’ she said. ‘Now, could you put Gray on, please. I’d like to speak to him.’
There was a short pause. I suppose if you’d really strained to listen you might have heard the almost subsonic squeaking of Robbie’s reply. In any case, it was pretty obvious that for some reason, Robbie was not able to bring Gray to the phone.
Mum’s frown grew deeper. ‘I’m sorry, Robbie,’ she said with an edge of steel. ‘I don’t care what Gray says, could you tell him I’d like to speak to him and I’d like to speak to him now.’
There was more subsonic squeaking, the net effect being a repetition of the original message that Robbie could not bring Gray to the phone.
Having been spurned twice, Mum was now pretty mad. In that angry telephone voice she reserved for fools and cold-calling salespeople, she then insisted that Robbie put his mother on the phone.
‘What’s going on, Nancy?’ asked Dad.
Mum laid the phone on the bench and said, ‘Robbie rang to ask whether Gray could stay the night at their place. I’ve asked twice now to speak to Gray, but for some reason he won’t come to the phone!’
‘He’s punishing you,’ remarked Dad.
‘He may well be,’ said Mum crossly. ‘But we’ll see about that!’
She picked up the phone again, saying, ‘Oh, hello, Jean. It’s Nancy Robinson here. We’re having a bit of a communication problem, I’m afraid. Gray has asked to stay the night at your place and—’ Clearly at this point Robbie’s mother broke in to reply, for Mum had to wait for quite some time until she could begin again.
‘Oh, I’m sure it’s no problem for you, Jean. My concern is that I’d wanted to talk to Gray myself but, for some reason, he—’
Again, Mum had to wait until Robbie’s mother rabbited on. Mum once more found it difficult to get a word in edgeways and eventually gave up, saying, ‘Well if you’re sure it’s all right Jean, and if you’re sure the boys are all right … We’ll talk later, then … Goodbye … Goodbye now …’
After she’d hung up, Mum said, ‘That woman is impossible.’
‘What’s the problem?’ asked Dad.
‘Gray wouldn’t speak to me — that’s the problem,’ said Mum.
‘Wouldn’t speak to you?’
‘Well, that’s the odd thing: Robbie kept saying Gray couldn’t speak to me, that for some reason, he couldn’t come to the phone.’
‘Why?’ asked Dad. ‘Has he broken his leg or something?’
‘I’ll sort this out,’ said Martha. Even as she said it, she had her cell phone in her hand. ‘I’ll talk to him.’
She left the room, fingering her phone as she did so.
It was not a long conversation. Martha was back within a minute or two. ‘Something’s up,’ she said.
‘What is it?’ asked Mum. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Dunno,’ said Martha. ‘He says he’s absolutely fine and no worries. Trouble is, he sounds very strange, not like the Gray we know and love at all.’
‘Strange?’
‘Sort of subdued,’ said Martha, ‘and quiet, almost as though he was scared or something.’
‘Did you ask him to come home?’
‘He wouldn’t hear of it,’ said Martha. ‘He said he’s staying put.’
‘And why wouldn’t he speak to me, then?’ asked Mum.
‘I asked him that. He said it was nothing to do with you, it’s just that he couldn’t leave the room.’
‘Strange,’ said Dad.
‘I reckon,’ said Martha.
I did, too. But then, I thought, it wasn’t any stranger than a whole lot of other things that had been happening since Uncle Felix had arrived.
True to his word, Dad left for work next morning with the birdcage and the two red rats. Despite it being a drizzly sort of day, Martha went off to town with a couple of friends, and so, with Mum at work, too, Uncle Felix at the last day of the festival and Gray apparently in hiding, I had the day to myself.
This gave me a chance to make a couple of what Dad called Dagwood sandwiches and return to Into Axillaris. I always liked the part where Medulla and the kids break the news to the princess that they’d solved the riddle and I was
keen to read it again.
Gray didn’t show up during the day, but I wasn’t surprised really. I was glad actually: it was always fraught when he was around, like walking on very thin ice in very heavy iron boots.
Mum got home first and set me to work helping with the preparations for dinner. I sensed she wanted to make a good impression on Dr Briggs.
When Dad came home with Uncle Felix, I was disappointed that they were alone.
‘Where’s Dr Briggs?’
‘Don’t worry about calling her Dr Briggs and all that, David,’ said Uncle Felix. ‘She told me she’d be much happier if you just called her Bella.’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘But isn’t she coming?’
‘Oh, yes, she’ll be here before long. She’s delighted to have been invited, Nancy. So thank you,’ said Uncle Felix.
‘Did she fly in to the festival, too?’ I asked.
‘No, she lives in the city,’ said Uncle Felix, ‘so she’ll be bringing her own car. She went home to …’
‘Freshen up?’ asked Mum.
‘That’s it,’ said Uncle Felix smiling, ‘to freshen up.’
Mum then turned to Dad. ‘What did the vet say about the rats, John?’
‘Oh rats!’ said Dad. ‘I left them in the car. Wait a sec!’
‘No, John, I won’t wait a sec! Tell me now!’
Dad shrugged. ‘There’s not a lot to tell, really. Apparently they don’t have anything contagious, so nothing to worry about there. In fact, according to the vet, they don’t have anything at all: they’re in perfect health. In the pink, you might say.’
‘In the red,’ you mean,’ said Mum.
‘Yeah, right,’ said Dad. ‘And we are, too, now. The way those people charge down at Pets R Us, I just about had to get a bank loan to pay them.’
‘So,’ insisted Mum, ‘what’s made the rats go all red, then?’
Once again Dad shrugged. ‘They don’t know.’
‘They don’t know?’
‘Yep,’ said Dad. ‘In our professional opinion, we haven’t got the slightest idea sort of thing and fifty dollars, thank you.’
Felix and the Red Rats Page 13
