Read Milo and the Raging Chieftains Online
Authors: Mary Arrigan
Milo and the Raging Chieftains (7 page)
T
he eerie sound of the trees closing when we were through was like a sinking-ship sort of feeling. Not that I’d ever been on a sinking ship, but I’m sure it gives out the same sort of panicky, whooshing sound.
Beyond the trees we came to a rough
track. I knew then that we really were back in the fourteen hundreds. We turned on our bicycle lamps even though the sky wasn’t completely dark because of the full moon. Mister Lewis went ahead on the track to warn us of any holes or stones.
‘Is it much farther?’ moaned Shane. ‘My bum is numb.’
‘Never mind that. Just remember that you two boys are minstrels,’ put in Mister Lewis. ‘Do you have songs that you can sing?’
Shane and I glanced at one another. ‘Of course we have,’ said Shane. ‘Loads of songs. No worries.’
No worries? At school Shane and I sang so badly that Miss Lee said we sounded like two over-excited geese. She insisted that we mime the songs whenever a school inspector or some posh bores came to visit. And now we were to sing to hairy soldiers
who were about to go to battle!
So we tried a few bars of modern songs that scared night creatures into the trees
‘Whoa!’ yelled Ossie as he fell off my carrier and rolled himself into a ball on the ground screaming with laughter. ‘If that’s the sound of singing in your time, Shane, and if girls look like you, Milo, then I truly want to stay in this century!’
‘We weren’t that bad,’ Shane muttered stroppily.
‘Yes you were,’ laughed Ossie, brushing his tunic and hopping back onto my carrier.
‘I’ve heard worse,’ said Mister Lewis, taking his mittened hands from his ears. ‘However, I think the cocoa has gone to my head. It’s been so many years since I’ve had a rich beverage. I need to rest a while. Don’t worry. I’ll catch up with you chaps shortly.’
Worry? Of course I worried. He was the only weapon we had on this creepy road hundreds of years from home. Anything could happen.
Sure enough, after about a mile, our lamps picked up two guys with bony legs ahead of us.
‘Let’s go,’ Shane said, getting up speed and forging ahead.
The two men turned around. At first they looked scared, but when they saw we were kids, they stood out and put up their hands.
I almost fell of my bike when our lamps shone on two thin faces that had the mean looks of Wedge and Crunch!
‘Yo, who goes there?’ said the thinner one with a sneer. ‘Are you young people out alone on this desolate pathway?’
‘What wonderful contraptions are these?’ interrupted the other one, standing right in
front of Shane’s bike.
‘I think WE should be the ones to have such riches from these exotic foreigners,’ said the Wedge-faced one. He put his ugly warty face up to mine. ‘What do you think, my pretty damsel?’ he asked, laughing, and went to join his mate who was pulling Shane off his bike. Whew, I have to admit that for one short, cowardly moment I was glad I was a girl.
I looked around, desperately wishing to hear Mister Lewis shout and float along to scare them.
‘This is going to be nasty,’ I muttered, getting ready to put down my bike and look for a stick. ‘If they take that box of stuff from Shane’s bike, we’re totally doomed.’
That’s when Ossie jumped off the back of my bike.
‘Hey, Ossie, come back here,’ I hissed. But
he took no notice. He put his hand to his belt and pulled out the mini club. Then he strode up to where the thugs were hassling Shane and tapped the taller one. I shut my eyes and waited for his scream. But it wasn’t Ossie who screamed, it was the tall guy when Ossie kicked his knee with an expert blow that was way better than anything we’d learnt at
taekwan-do
class. As he went down, Ossie decked him on the nose with his club. When the other thug tried to grab Ossie, the kid stood his ground, lifted his leg and punched him in the belly with his dainty little foot, knocking him down like a sack of rubbish.
‘Would you gentlemen like some more?’ He laughed, waving his club.
‘Ha!’ he said proudly. ‘My renowned Weapons Master has taught me the many ways of besting slime such as you.’ Then he
gave a loud ‘YAAAGGGHHH!’ and waved his club as he lunged at them again.
By the time Shane and I had scraped up the courage to help Ossie, the golden oldie bullies had upped and run across the dark, boggy land.
‘Now,’ said Ossie as calmly as if he had just chased away a fly. ‘Let us go and do what we have to do.’
‘Hey,’ said Shane as Ossie jumped up on my bike. ‘That was awesome the way you scared those morons!’
‘Double awesome,’ I added. ‘You were red hot, Ossie.’
‘What do those strange words mean?’ Ossie asked. ‘Do you mock me?’ he added guardedly, his hand on his club.
‘No way!’ I exclaimed. ‘It means total respect, man. You sent those guys running while we just stood scared.’
‘Speak for yourself. Milo,’ grunted Shane. ‘I was just about to clobber them …’
‘With the feather from your fancy hat?’ I said, and the three of us laughed loudly as we headed along the bumpy road.
W
e could see the flickering lights of Roc’s castle when Mister Lewis caught up with us.
‘Sorry, boys,’ he said as he wafted along beside us. ‘I fell asleep under a tree. Imagine – the first sleep I’ve had for a hundred and two years. Thanks to your granny’s cocoa, Shane. Luckily, I see your route along this
road has been easy, so you didn’t need my help.’
‘No, good sire,’ said Ossie. ‘We simply swatted some buzzing flies.’
Mister Lewis tut-tutted when the three of us laughed loudly again.
However, we sobered up when we got close to the enormous gates of the castle.
‘Remember not to reveal your name, Ossie,’ whispered Mister Lewis. ‘Roc is your father’s enemy. We’ll have to hide you from him, and give you a false name for the rest of the occupants of the castle.’
‘Something modern,’ suggested Shane. ‘Something computerish.’
‘Google,’ I suggested. I don’t know why; it just seemed to fit.
‘Earth,’ added Shane.
‘Google Earth!’ we said together.
‘From Afar,’ I added.
‘Master Google Earth from Afar, Hmm,’ mused Mister Lewis. ‘I’ve never heard of it, but I like it.’
The two sentries who stood under flaming torches pointed their lances at us as we approached.
‘Who goes there?’
‘US!’ Shane called out.
I groaned quietly. If he started messing about with these ancients, we could find ourselves in a black dungeon, rattling our chains, fighting with rats for mouldy crusts of bread, and having cockroaches crawling up our noses at night. My dad had told me how he often wished those punishments could come back into use on thugs in the twenty-first century. Dad, I sighed. Would I ever see him and Mum again?
I jumped when the gloves with the spaceship patterns landed on my shoulders.
‘Listen to me and repeat what I say,’ whispered Mister Lewis. ‘And remember you’re a girl, so act like one.’
His whispery voice was muffled by the plaits so it was hard to hear him.
‘WE ARE MATCHSTICK
DICTIONARIES
FROM AFAR,’ I said in a high, girlie voice as I flicked my plaits.
‘
DIGNITARIES
!’ hissed Mister Lewis. ‘
MYSTIC
DIGNITARIES
!’
But it didn’t matter. These thugs didn’t seem to know the difference.
‘And I am Master Google Earth, the son of my Lord Google from Afar,’ Ossie shouted, coming from behind and standing straight in front of the guards in his rich, red clothes, his shabby cloak flung behind him, his hands on his hips, like a regular little prince. ‘I represent my eminent father who has sent us here. I bring his good wishes and
two entertainers to amuse Lord Roc.’
Entertainers? Did he mean me and Shane? We couldn’t entertain a cat with a toy mouse on a string, never mind a gang of loud soldiers.
Luckily, the guards were more interested in his blue cycle helmet than his words. But it was Shane who fascinated them the most. They had obviously never seen an African person before. They moved closer to him and put out their hands to touch his face. I hoped he wouldn’t throw a hissy fit and bang their heads together. But he puffed out his chest and leaned towards them with a big toothy grin. ‘I have come from the far-out land of magical YouTube, a country rich with Big Mac Burgers, donuts and moving pictures,’ he boomed. (All his favourite things, of course). ‘Want to see my tricks?’
What tricks? Shane was useless at tricks, even the ones in cheap Christmas crackers. With a great flourish, he rang the bell of his bicycle as hard as he could. Too hard, I thought. But it worked. The guards leapt back, their spears pointing at the bike.
‘That is indeed a magical thing,’ said the skinnier guard. ‘More!’ he ordered. ‘Show us more.’
With another exaggerated flourish and even wider grin, Shane pressed the bell. No sound. He tried again and again, but there wasn’t so much as a tweet. It had croaked. The guards muttered to one another, their faces grim. They raised their spears. Ossie pulled my arm. ‘Come,’ he said. ‘We must help.’
I looked around frantically. Where was Mister Lewis when you needed him? Had the cocoa kicked in again and made him
fall back asleep?
I should have known better. When I saw the spaceship gloves fly towards the thugs, I knew my spooky pal was up to his eerie tricks. He moved his gloves all around the guards, muttering any old words that came to mind: ‘hoolah moola, loco cocoa, bikes and spikes, dead men coming,
waaaagh
!’
The guards clung to each other. But it was when the gloves touched their faces that they scarpered down the track, away from the castle.
‘I shall be here waiting here for yooouuu!’ We heard Mister Lewis call out in a ghostly voice as he drifted after them.
‘A class act, Mister Lewis,’ I said when he returned with his full body.
‘Indeed,’ he grinned, lovingly patting the gloves. ‘But now to more serious matters.’
The dark courtyard was empty as we made
our way towards the castle, but we could hear sounds of laughter and rough shouting through the upstairs’ windows
‘Now, boys,’ said Mister Lewis when we reached the steps of the castle. ‘This is where we part company.’ He lifted the box from Shane’s bike. ‘Ossie and I will find our way down to the kitchen and—’
‘The kitchen?’ interrupted Ossie. ‘I don’t frequent kitchens. They are used only by servants.’
‘Well, you’d better get familiar with this one,’ said Mister Lewis. ‘You’ve dumped your disguise, so we’ll all be in trouble if Roc recognises you in your princely clothes. Now, we must introduce ourselves to the kitchen staff as servants of the – eh – visiting guests upstairs.’
‘What visiting guests?’ I asked.
‘You and Shane,’ he replied. ‘I shall tell
the kitchen staff that you’ve brought exotic spices from afar for us to prepare for Roc and his men. You two must present yourselves to Roc. Remember, you are entertainers.’
‘What?’ I said. ‘You’re leaving us alone!’
‘Just keep Roc and his men occupied,’ Mister Lewis went on, handing us the guitar and drum. ‘They’ll be “gobsmacked”, as you say, Milo. Go now. There’s much to do. Sing well.’
Sing? Me and Shane! We were dead already.
Upstairs, the shouting and laughing was even louder, just like the early afternoon slot in the cinema during the boring kissy parts of a film.
Shane looked at me as we hauled our bikes upstairs. ‘Let me do the talking first,’ he whispered, going ahead of me up the stairs. ‘I think I have the right idea.’
‘Huh?’ I choked. The words ‘right’ and ‘idea’ weren’t words you’d associate with Shane at a time like this.
The noise was deafening when we got to the top of the stairs and entered a huge room where soldiers were drinking from fat tankards. Everyone stopped as we went through. We made our way towards the far end of the room where a small group of men, dressed in posh clothes, sat around a table on a raised platform. The silence was pure scary. Then the shouting began again: soldiers pointing at us and our bikes and yelling.
On the platform, the man in the richest-looking clothes stood up from his chair. ‘SILENCE!’ he boomed, banging on the table. For a skinny guy with bad hair and a squashed nose he certainly knew how to get attention. The room hushed. ‘To what do
we owe this visit?’ he went on when we’d leaned our bikes against the wall. ‘Who has sent you strange people and your peculiar contraptions to my castle? And,’ he added, leaning towards us, looking from one to the other in a puzzled sort of way. ‘Why have you different skin?’
Darn! We hadn’t thought of that. This needed a quick response.
Shane got there first. ‘Girls are not allowed out in the sun,’ he replied. ‘We’re like a draughts board when the family all get together,’ he went on.
This really wasn’t the time for bad jokes.
Nobody laughed. The total silence was weird.
I could almost hear Shane’s brain clanking as he made up what to say next. As for me – my brain had shut down.
‘We have been sent from Afar,’ Shane
began. ‘Our father is King Tayto, Lord of the Seas of North Africa. He has sent me, Sir Hamburger and my sister, the Lady Magenta Knickers, across the sea, to amuse and honour your worship, and bring friendship to him,’ Shane went on, sweeping his feathered hat off his head and bowing low.
Magenta Knickers, indeed! He’d pay for that.
‘Ho!’ said Roc, who was obviously used to weird names. ‘So my fame has spread to distant lands?’
‘Yeah it has, sire,’ Shane went on. ‘King Tayto has heard about your conkers from his fleet of pirates …’
‘Conquests!’ I hissed
‘Pirates?’ Roc was suddenly interested. ‘Your father is a pirate king?’ he said with awe.
‘Indeed he is, sire,’ replied Shane. ‘The best.’
‘Ah, I should like to meet your father,’ said Roc.
‘And he would like to join with you and your warriors, which is why he sent us to make our family known to you,’ Shane went on, though he’d never even met his real father, who’d gone away after Shane’s mother ran off with a wealthy rapper. Then Shane’s granny brought him to Ireland when he was little.
‘So, you have come to entertain?’ went on Roc, settling back on his throne. ‘Show us what you can do to please us? Tomorrow we go to battle.’
That got the rest of the men going. They banged their tankards on the long tables and yelled for action.
Shane looked at me, his eyes out on stalks.
‘What’ll we do now, Milo?’
‘You’re the one with the ideas,’ I hissed. But this was no time for squabbling. ‘We’d better sing.’