He chose eight soldiers to take the three men away, and even though the three honest soldiers struggled very hard, they were outnumbered and overwhelmed, and in no time at all they’d been dragged out of the Guard’s Room.
‘Very good,’ said Spittleworth to the few soldiers remaining. ‘Very good indeed. There will be pay rises all round, and I shall remember your names when it comes to promotions. Now, don’t forget to tell your families exactly what happened in the Marshlands. It might bode ill for your wives, your parents and your children if they’re heard to question the existence of the Ickabog, or of Nobby Buttons.
‘You may now return home.’
Chapter 18
End of an Advisor
No sooner had the guardsmen got to their feet to return home, than Lord Flapoon came bursting into the room, looking worried.
‘What now?’ groaned Spittleworth, who very much wanted his bath and bed.
‘The – Chief – Advisor!’ panted Flapoon.
And sure enough, Herringbone, the Chief Advisor, now appeared, wearing his dressing gown and an expression of outrage.
‘I demand an explanation, my lord!’ he cried. ‘What stories are these that reach my ears? The Ickabog, real? Major Beamish, dead? And I’ve just passed three of the king’s soldiers being dragged away under sentence of death! I have, of course, instructed that they be taken to the dungeons to await trial instead!’
‘I can explain everything, Chief Advisor,’ said Spittleworth with a bow, and for the third time that evening, he related the tale of the Ickabog attacking the king, and killing Beamish, and then the mysterious disappearance of Nobby Buttons who, Spittleworth feared, had also fallen prey to the monster.
Herringbone, who’d always deplored the influence of Spittleworth and Flapoon on the king, waited for Spittleworth to finish his farrago of lies with the air of a wily old fox who waits at a rabbit hole for his dinner.
‘A fascinating tale,’ he said, when Spittleworth had finished. ‘But I hereby relieve you of any further responsibility in the matter, Lord Spittleworth. The advisors will take charge now. There are laws and protocols in Cornucopia to deal with emergencies such as these.
‘Firstly, the men in the dungeons will be given a proper trial, so that we can hear their version of events. Secondly, the lists of the king’s soldiers must be searched, to find the family of this Nobby Buttons, and inform them of his death. Thirdly, Major Beamish’s body must be closely examined by the king’s physicians, so that we may learn more about the monster that killed him.’
Spittleworth opened his mouth very wide, but nothing came out. He saw his whole glorious scheme collapsing on top of him, and himself trapped beneath it, imprisoned by his own cleverness.
Then Major Roach, who was standing behind the Chief Advisor, slowly put down his rifle and took a sword from the wall. A look like a flash of light on dark water passed between Roach and Spittleworth, who said:
‘I think, Herringbone, that you are ripe for retirement.’
Steel flashed, and the tip of Roach’s sword appeared out of the Chief Advisor’s belly. The soldiers gasped, but the Chief Advisor didn’t utter a word. He simply knelt, then toppled over, dead.
Spittleworth looked around at the soldiers who’d agreed to believe in the Ickabog. He liked seeing the fear on every face. He could feel his own power.
‘Did everybody hear the Chief Advisor appointing me to his job before he retired?’ he asked softly.
The soldiers all nodded. They’d just stood by and watched murder, and felt too deeply involved to protest. All they cared about now was escaping this room alive, and protecting their families.
‘Very well, then,’ said Spittleworth. ‘The king believes the Ickabog is real, and I stand with the king. I am the new Chief Advisor, and I will be devising a plan to protect the kingdom. All who are loyal to the king will find their lives run very much as before. Any who stand against the king will suffer the penalty of cowards and traitors: imprisonment – or death.
‘Now, I need one of you gentlemen to assist Major Roach in burying the body of our dear Chief Advisor – and be sure and put him where he won’t be found. The rest of you are free to return to your families and inform them of the danger threatening our beloved Cornucopia.’
Chapter 19
Lady Eslanda
Spittleworth now marched off towards the dungeons. With Herringbone gone, there was nothing to stop him killing the three honest soldiers. He intended to shoot them himself. There would be time enough to invent a story afterwards – possibly he could place their bodies in the vault where the crown jewels were kept, and pretend they’d been trying to steal them.
However, just as Spittleworth put his hand on the door to the dungeons, a quiet voice spoke out of the darkness behind him.
‘Good evening, Lord Spittleworth.’
He turned and saw Lady Eslanda, raven-haired and serious, stepping down from a dark spiral staircase.
‘You’re awake late, my lady,’ said Spittleworth, with a bow.
‘Yes,’ said Lady Eslanda, whose heart was beating very fast. ‘I – I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d take a little stroll.’
This was a fib. In fact, Eslanda had been fast asleep in her bed when she was woken by a frantic knocking on her bedroom door. Opening it, she found Hetty standing there: the maid who’d served Spittleworth his wine, and heard his lies about Nobby Buttons.
Hetty had been so curious about what Spittleworth was up to after his story about Nobby Buttons, that she’d crept along to the Guard’s Room and, by pressing her ear to the door, heard everything that was going on inside. Hetty ran and hid when the three honest soldiers were dragged away, then sped upstairs to wake Lady Eslanda. She wanted to help the men who were about to be shot. The maid had no idea that Eslanda was secretly in love with Captain Goodfellow. She simply liked Lady Eslanda best of all the ladies at court, and knew her to be kind and clever.
Lady Eslanda hastily pressed some gold into Hetty’s hands and advised her to leave the palace that night, because she was afraid the maid now might be in grave danger. Then Lady Eslanda dressed herself with trembling hands, seized a lantern, and hurried down the spiral staircase beside her bedroom. However, before she reached the bottom of the stairs she heard voices. Blowing out her lantern, Eslanda listened as Herringbone gave the order for Captain Goodfellow and his friends to be taken to the dungeons instead of being shot. She’d been hiding on the stairs ever since, because she had a feeling the danger threatening the men might not yet have passed – and here, sure enough, was Lord Spittleworth, heading for the dungeons with a pistol.
‘Is the Chief Advisor anywhere about?’ Lady Eslanda asked. ‘I thought I heard his voice earlier.’
‘Herringbone has retired,’ said Spittleworth. ‘You see standing before you the new Chief Advisor, my lady.’
‘Oh, congratulations!’ said Eslanda, pretending to be pleased, although she was horrified. ‘So it will be you who oversees the trial of the three soldiers in the dungeons, will it?’
‘You’re very well informed, Lady Eslanda,’ said Spittleworth, eyeing her closely. ‘How did you know there are three soldiers in the dungeons?’