The Ickabog(60)

Spittleworth ushered the spies to the door and thrust them back into the passageway, trying to drown out their whispers of “my lord, it’s real, and the people like it!” and “it’s on its way south, my lord, our contacts seen it with their two eyes!”

“We shall kill this monster as we’ve killed all the others!” said Spittleworth loudly, for the king’s benefit, and then under his breath he added, “Go away!”

Spittleworth closed the door firmly on the spies and returned to the table, disturbed, but trying not to show it. Flapoon was still tucking into some Baronstown ham. He had a vague idea that Spittleworth must be behind all these people rushing in and talking about live Ickabogs, so he wasn’t frightened in the slightest. Fred, on the other hand, was quivering from head to foot.

“Imagine the monster showing itself in daylight, Spittleworth!” he whimpered. “I thought it only ever came out at night!”

“Yes, it’s getting far too bold, isn’t it, Your Majesty?” said Spittleworth. He had no idea what this so-called real Ickabog could be. The only thing he could imagine was that some common folk had rigged up some kind of fake monster, possibly to steal food, or force gold out of their neighbors — but it would still have to be stopped, of course. There was only one true Ickabog, and that was the one Spittleworth had invented. “Come, Flapoon — we must prevent this beast from entering Chouxville!”

“You’re so brave, Spittleworth,” said King Fred in a broken voice.

“Tish, pish, Your Majesty,” said Spittleworth, “I would lay down my life for Cornucopia. You should know that by now!”

Spittleworth’s hand was on the door handle when yet more running footsteps, this time accompanied by shouting and clanging, shattered the peace. Startled, Spittleworth opened the door to see what was going on.

A group of ragged prisoners was running toward him. At the head of them was the white-haired Mr. Dovetail, who held an axe, and burly Captain Goodfellow, who carried a gun clearly wrestled from the hands of a palace guard. Right behind them came Mrs. Beamish, her hair flying behind her as she brandished an enormous saucepan, and hot on her heels came Millicent, Lady Eslanda’s maid, who held a rolling pin.

Just in time, Spittleworth slammed and bolted the door. Within seconds, Mr. Dovetail’s axe had smashed through the wood.

“Flapoon, come!” shouted Spittleworth, and the two lords ran across the room to another door, which led to a staircase down to the courtyard.

Fred, who had no idea what was going on, who’d never even realized that there were fifty people trapped in the dungeons of his palace, was slow to react. Seeing the faces of the furious prisoners appear at the hole Mr. Dovetail had hacked in the door, he jumped up to follow the two lords, but they, interested only in their own skins, had bolted the door they had escaped through from the other side. King Fred was left standing in his pajamas with his back to the wall, watching the escaped prisoners hack their way into his room.





Within seconds, Mr. Dovetail’s axe had smashed through the wood.

By Taarika, Age 9





The two lords dashed out into the palace courtyard to find the Ickabog Defense Brigade already mounted and armed, as Spittleworth had ordered. However, Major Prodd (the man who’d kidnapped Daisy years before, who’d been promoted after Spittleworth shot Major Roach) was looking nervous.

“My lord,” he said to Spittleworth, who was hastily mounting his horse, “there’s something happening inside the palace — we heard an uproar —”

“Never mind that now!” snapped Spittleworth.

A sound of shattering glass made all the soldiers look up.

“There are people in the king’s bedroom!” cried Prodd. “Shouldn’t we help him?”

“Forget the king!” shouted Spittleworth.

Captain Goodfellow now appeared at the king’s bedroom window. Looking down he bellowed:

“You won’t escape, Spittleworth!”

“Oh, won’t I?” snarled the lord, and kicking his thin yellow horse, he forced it into a gallop and disappeared out of the palace gates. Major Prodd was too scared of Spittleworth not to follow, so he and the rest of the Ickabog Defense Brigade charged after his lordship, along with Flapoon, who’d barely managed to get onto his horse before Spittleworth set off, bouncing along at the rear, holding on to his horse’s mane for dear life and trying to find his stirrups.

Some men might have considered themselves beaten, what with escaped prisoners taking over the palace and a fake Ickabog marching through the country and attracting crowds, but not Lord Spittleworth. He still had a squad of well-trained, well-armed soldiers riding behind him, heaps of gold hidden at his mansion in the country, and his crafty brain was already devising a plan. Firstly, he’d shoot the men who’d faked this Ickabog, and terrify the people back into obedience. Then he’d send Major Prodd and his soldiers back to the palace to kill all the escaped prisoners. Of course, the prisoners might have killed the king by that time, but in truth, it might be easier to govern the country without Fred. As he galloped along, Spittleworth thought bitterly that if only he hadn’t had to put so much effort into lying to the king, he might not have made certain mistakes, like letting that wretched pastry chef have knives and saucepans. He also regretted not hiring more spies, because then he might have found out that someone was making a fake Ickabog — a fake, by the sound of it, that was far more convincing than the one he’d seen that morning in the stables.