Felix and the Red Rats

by James Norcliffe

  ‘How bizarre,’ said Mum.

  ‘I was sure there was nothing really wrong with the rats, Nancy,’ said Uncle Felix. ‘But it was best to have them checked.’

  ‘True, I suppose,’ said Mum. ‘But we’re really none the wiser. I would have liked something more than that, especially for fifty dollars.’

  ‘I’ll just go and get them before I forget,’ said Dad. ‘Don’t want the car turning red.’

  ‘You’re not funny, John. You know that, don’t you?’ said Mum, but she said it good-naturedly, so I guessed she was feeling a little relieved by Dad’s news.

  Martha arrived home shortly afterwards and swept into the kitchen.

  ‘What do you think?’ she proclaimed. ‘Big drum roll and …’ She pirouetted and grinned.

  ‘Oh my goodness,’ said Dad.

  ‘Martha!’ groaned Mum.

  ‘Very fetching,’ smiled Uncle Felix.

  Martha had done it. She’d had her hair dyed a deep cherry red.

  I couldn’t quite tell from Mum’s groan what her real feelings about Martha’s hair were, but I rather gathered they weren’t utter delight.

  Whatever they were, though, had to be put on hold, for at that moment there was a knock at the door, and shortly afterwards Dad ushered Bella Briggs into the kitchen. She was smiling and clutching a large box of chocolates. I couldn’t help but notice that her hair, if anything, was an even more brilliant red than Martha’s.

  I grinned. Not even Mum could bang on about how terrible Martha’s hair looked when in the very same room was this striking-looking woman with hair an even brighter colour.

  Somewhat flustered, Mum welcomed her and ushered everybody into the living room while Dad rushed off to get drinks and nibbles. Whatever tension Martha’s transformation had caused quickly eased as conversation started to flow, conversation mainly about the hill and what it was like when Bella and Felix were kids.

  From time to time, I sneaked a look at Martha, surprised at how such a simple thing as a complete change of hair colour can alter a person. To be honest, I thought it made Martha look so much better. She looked a little older, perhaps, and much more interesting. In fact, she now looked quite a character. The hair change had changed her personality a bit too. She was a little more outgoing, funnier.

  Mum had gone into the kitchen to poach the salmon she’d bought for dinner when there was another knock at the door.

  ‘John!’ she called. ‘Could you get the door, please? I’m busy right now.’

  ‘Who on earth could that be?’ grumbled Dad. ‘It’s dinner time, for goodness sake.’

  There was a moment of silence. I suppose everybody had caught Dad’s curiosity about the mysterious visitor. There was the sound of voices and then footsteps.

  To our surprise, the next thing was Dad returning followed by a policeman in uniform, followed in turn by another figure looking rather like he had been on the way to a Halloween party. Over his head he wore a large brown paper bag with two jagged eyeholes cut in the front.

  You didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to recognise that this was Gray.

  ‘I was explaining to your husband that I found this lad lurking on the street not far from here,’ said the officer to Mum. ‘To my mind, a kid wandering around a neighbourhood like this wearing a mask is quite suspicious.’

  ‘But …’ protested Mum.

  ‘I demanded he remove the mask, and he refused. Of course, I was not at liberty to remove said mask forcibly, so I demanded his name and address, and he claims to be Gray Robinson and that he lives here. Would that be correct?’

  ‘Of course it’s correct,’ said Mum grimly. ‘It’s our son, and I am at liberty to remove said mask!’

  Without further ado, she reached for Gray and yanked the paper bag from his head.

  It was immediately clear why he was wearing the bag.

  Gray’s hair and his entire face were bright red.

  The colour of a tomato.

  The colour of Bella’s hair.

  Princess Pia

  Medulla’s cries were so loud and his banging so violent that it did not take more than a few minutes before the door creaked open and an elderly woman stood there before him holding an upraised lamp with one hand and clasping a white dressing gown with the other.

  ‘Mistress Brum, quickly! Rouse your mistress! We bring tidings of great urgency!’

  The old lady raised the lamp even higher and peered at him with some bewilderment.

  ‘Master Medulla? But my lady’s asleep and should be for many hours yet. It must be the middle of the night!’

  By now the three others were standing behind Medulla.

  ‘Mistress Brum, this is not a frivolous visitation! The entire future of Axillaris depends on it, not to mention the lives of at least two people! You must wake your mistress, for we demand an audience with her!’

  Realising that Medulla would not be denied, the old lady opened the door and gestured them in. She led them through a short tiled hall and then into a reception room. The room was dimly lit but comfortably furnished. Mistress Brum asked them to seat themselves and told them that she would do what she could do.

  Picking up on her reluctance, Medulla said sharply, ‘Mistress Brum, do not trifle with me! Wake Princess Pia straight away and bring her to me as quickly as you can, or by Fortuna I will fetch her myself!’

  ‘As you will then,’ muttered the old lady, and she left the room, although not before giving Medulla a look of long-suffering mixed with irritation.

  ‘Ridiculous woman!’ snapped Medulla.

  Felix could see how tense Medulla was, and from that tension just how critical their discovery had been. They waited for what seemed an interminable time before there was the faint sound of a door opening and then a woman, like the old lady clad in a white dressing gown, stepped into the room.

  The white dressing gown, however, was the only thing this woman had in common with Mistress Brum. Whereas one was old, the other was young; whereas one was short and dumpy, the other was tall and slender; and whereas Mistress Brum had grey hair bundled at the back into an untidy bun, this woman had long fair hair that fell to her shoulders.

  ‘She’s beautiful,’ breathed Felix, and Bella, just hearing him, nodded in agreement.

  She was, too, and made more beautiful by her searching, emerald-green eyes and by her radiant smile of recognition when she saw Medulla, already hurrying towards her to clasp her hands.

  ‘Medulla,’ she exclaimed. ‘What does this strange visit mean?’

  ‘Princess,’ said Medulla, remembering himself sufficiently to kneel briefly in obeisance, ‘forgive this intrusion, but I bring you wonderful news, news that you have longed for ever since—’

  Princess Pia’s green eyes widened. ‘You cannot mean …’

  ‘It is my belief,’ said Medulla, smiling, ‘that we have the answer to the Succession Riddle, and with it your crown and the end of that fiend — your uncle.’

  The princess looked about them, her expression a mix of disbelief, relief and delight. And then in the dim light of the reception room she realised that the shorter people standing some distance behind Medulla were not as she had presumed attendant twerps, but something other.

  ‘But who have you brought with you, Medulla?’ she asked in surprise.

  ‘These children have come from beyond Axillaris,’ explained Medulla. ‘They were discovered in a Way Station and brought to the palace by a twerp who thought them to be rebels. Your uncle has had deep suspicions about their sudden arrival and has kept them prisoners. In fact he has thrown a fourth child into the dungeons and will no doubt—’

  ‘I understand,’ Princess Pia broke in. ‘But the regent knows there are no rebels. Why then would he treat these visitors so cruelly?’

  ‘Count Cava suspects,’ said Medulla, ‘that these children brought with them the answer to the riddle. He saw their sudden and mysterious appearance as having been ordained by Fortuna. He questioned them at length, and
discovered a diary brought by one of the children.’

  ‘But, clearly,’ said the princess, ‘he found nothing, or of course the children would not be with you now.’

  ‘Correct,’ said Medulla. ‘He found nothing in the diary and the children were convincingly bewildered by the riddle.’

  ‘But then why did he keep them prisoner?’ asked the princess.

  ‘The regent is a clever man,’ said Medulla. ‘While satisfied that the children knew nothing of the answer to the riddle, he could not explain their arrival except in terms of Fortuna’s having somehow orchestrated it. He suspected, then, that the children might be in possession of the answer, or discover it without knowing what they knew — that they could be unwitting bearers.’

  ‘I see,’ said the princess. ‘So …’

  ‘So,’ said Medulla, ‘he housed them together in a room, hoping they might work on the puzzle and discover its meaning. Of course, he charged someone to listen in on their conversations and as soon as — or if — the children did discover the answer to the riddle, the regent would take steps to ensure that they could never reach you with the answer.’

  Princess Pia nodded gravely, and then looked at Medulla with a faint smile. ‘I think I can hazard a guess at the identity of the one the regent charged to listen to the conversations.’

  Medulla smiled. ‘I was that person, my lady.’

  Princess Pia looked towards Bella, Felix and Myrtle. ‘If Medulla is right, and you have found the answer, there are no words that can express the gratitude I would feel, but please, you must tell me who you are, for Medulla in his enthusiasm has quite forgotten his courtesy.’

  Medulla looked a little abashed, apologised and immediately introduced the trio. Princess Pia took each of them by their hands in turn, smiling a little at their clumsy attempts to bow and curtsy.

  ‘Well, Medulla,’ she said finally, turning to him. ‘Surely you have been mysterious long enough. Are you going to tell me the answer to the riddle now?’

  Medulla gave a short cough and said, ‘I’m sorry, my lady, I cannot tell you.’

  ‘Medulla?’

  ‘What I mean to say, my lady, is that I do not know the answer to the riddle.’

  ‘But, you have just told me—’

  ‘I meant only that I have brought you the answer to the riddle, my lady, not that I know it.’

  ‘I do not follow, Medulla.’

  Medulla turned and gestured to the children behind them. ‘These are clever young people, my lady. I understand that they have, I know not how, solved the Succession Riddle. Quite wisely, in my view, they have withheld the answer from me until they had ascertained that I was completely trustworthy. Do not forget, they have already experienced the subtle blandishments of your uncle and seen what he is capable of.’

  ‘And how will they know you are trustworthy, Medulla?’ asked the princess with a smile.

  ‘I hope I have proved myself trustworthy now, my lady, by delivering them to you. They demanded no less.’

  ‘I’m sure you have, Medulla,’ said the princess, and then turning to Bella, Felix and Myrtle said, ‘Well, my dears, surely you cannot hold me in suspense any longer …’

  Bella grinned, took her diary from under her yellow tunic, and stripped off the yellow balaclava.

  ‘It was a sort of joint effort,’ she explained.

  She told the princess how Myrtle had talked of their need for magic, and how the word magic had reminded Felix of the magic squares she’d mentioned were in her diary, and how in one of the magic squares Felix had seen the word ‘dog’.

  At this point, Bella showed Princess Pia and Medulla what a magic square was and explained how it worked.

  ‘Just before,’ she continued, ‘I’d showed Felix this …’ and she showed the princess and Medulla the magic square she’d made using Bella as the key word. ‘This suddenly suggested to Felix that if we made a magic square using Pia as the key word it might contain — or bind as the riddle put it — a creature. Look …’

  Bella fished her biro from her pocket and then completed the magic square:

  P I A

  I N N

  A N T

  ‘See,’ she said. ‘Ant — ant must be one of the creatures bound by Pia.’

  Medulla and Princess Pia stared at Bella. Then they glanced at each other, Medulla smiling and the princess with hope in her eyes.

  ‘But it’s so simple,’ she whispered. ‘And, now, so obvious …’

  ‘Riddles always are when they’re explained,’ said Bella.

  ‘And jokes aren’t funny once they’re explained,’ added Felix.

  ‘But,’ said Princess Pia, ‘there’s only one creature. The riddle demands three.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Bella. ‘It gets better. Look …’ And she carefully wrote out the second magic square.

  P I A

  I M P

  A P E

  ‘See,’ she whispered. ‘A double whammy: imp and ape. There’s the answer to the riddle. The three creatures bound by Pia are ant, imp and ape!’

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Medulla.

  ‘It has to be!’ whispered the princess, her eyes shining. ‘It has to be.’

  She turned to Bella and seized her hands. ‘Thank you, thank you. This is so, so wonderful.’ She turned to Felix and Myrtle. ‘Thank you, all of you, such wonderful visitors.’ And then she raised her eyes, ‘And, O Fortuna, thank you, blessed fate, for bringing these three here.’

  ‘What happens now?’ asked Bella.

  ‘What happens now,’ said Medulla determinedly, ‘is that armed with the answer to the riddle, we must return to the palace. The Council of Nobles must be summoned, and the regent challenged to smash the crystal vase to allow the princess her crown.’

  ‘There can be no delay,’ agreed Princess Pia. ‘Forgive me, but I must to my chamber and dress and then we must fly.’

  While they waited, Medulla marched back and forth agitatedly, unable to settle. He appeared to Felix to be walking on hot coals. Every so often, he would turn to Bella or Felix, his face wreathed in smiles, clasping his hands in front of him and shaking them, even at times raising his clasped hands above his head in triumph.

  ‘I think he’s kind of pleased,’ whispered Felix.

  ‘I get that impression too,’ said Bella grinning.

  Before long, Princess Pia appeared once more, now dressed in a long green gown, a shade of green not unlike the colour of her eyes. Mistress Brum waddled behind her on feet misshapen by bunions and, turning to her, Princess Pia ordered her to run quickly to the stables to saddle a trustworthy pig.

  The arrival of the princess seemed to settle Medulla, for he stopped his pacing up and down and he hurried to her side.

  ‘We must summon the Council of Nobles before we meet with Count Cava,’ he said. ‘He must be given no opportunity for trickery or any means of circumventing this challenge.’

  Princess Pia said, ‘I quite agree. He is not to be trusted and will be even more treacherous in a corner. We must be on our guard.’

  ‘It is not quite dawn, yet,’ said Medulla. ‘We should have the advantage of surprise. I’m quite certain we were not seen leaving the palace and so he should still be unaware even that the children are missing.’

  ‘Apart from Moonface,’ said Myrtle.

  ‘Moonface?’ asked the princess.

  Medulla’s face clouded. ‘Another reason we must make haste. Moonface is the fourth visitor, the one the regent condemned to the dungeons and the one he has threatened to try today for lese-majesty.’

  ‘In that case,’ said the princess, firmly, ‘we must certainly fly. And Myrtle,’ she added, addressing the smaller girl, ‘once I am wearing my crown, there will be no trial of your friend.’

  Their flight back to the palace was if anything more thrilling than their ride to the princess’s eyrie on the mountain. This was because dawn was breaking and the sky, suffused with a lilac glow when they took off, assumed a brilliant m
antle of orange before the silhouette of the palace appeared below them once more.

  As they descended, Felix glanced towards the town square and could make out the statue he now knew to be of the princess’s great-grandfather Prince Thalamus holding aloft the answer to his riddle. He remembered staring up at the bronze prince, struck by the utter delight on his face, a delight not unlike that of Medulla and Princess Pia when they realised their riddle had been solved.

  Prince Thalamus had been riding a flying pig, too. It was weird now to Felix to be on a real flying pig as it broke into a descent hundreds of metres above the bronze pig frozen forever in mid-leap in the centre of the square below.

  And then, with a clatter, the real pig’s trotters found the flagstone path and followed the other pigs amiably towards the palace stable.

  The Council of Nobles had been summoned and already the Council Chamber was buzzing with excitement. The fact that Princess Pia herself had summoned the council could mean only one thing, but surely that was too much to hope for.

  In a U-shape, surrounding the central table and throne, the high-backed benches were packed with fifty or sixty of the great aristocrats of Axillaris. They were a colourful lot, mostly old, the dukes and counts brocaded and be-medalled, the countesses and duchesses bejewelled and be-jowled. There was white ermine and black sable and red caps looking rather like velvet socks, all tasselled and flounced. While the black throne mounted on a broad rostrum at the far end of the table remained empty, speculation was rife; but increasingly the nobles sensed the only possible reason for their summoning. And this awareness filled the chamber with electricity.

  To dispel whatever doubts may have lingered, on the table rose the great crystal vase, a metre tall, shimmering like a teardrop. For ten years it had waited, sealed by the master glass-blower who had formed it, but sealed only after the regent himself had placed within it the crown of Axillaris and the roll of parchment on which the answer to the riddle was written.