Pig Latin--Not Just for Pigs! (4 page)

One side of the coin showed a roosterlike head. The other, a clawed foot standing atop a cracking rock. Wiglaf slipped the coin into his pocket. Just as Brother Dave had predicted, this was turning out to be a wondrous journey indeed.

“Iglaf-way,”
said Daisy as they scrambled back up the hill.
“Ou-yay ere-way ery-vay avebray.
”

“Thank you, Daisy,” said Wiglaf, happy to have his wise pig think him brave.

“Look!” said Erica as they reached the top of the hill. “There’s the palace!”

Wiglaf shaded his eyes from the afternoon sun. In the distance, he saw sparkling white towers rising up to meet the sky.

“This trunk is going downhill on its own,” said Erica. She set it down and gave it a shove. The trunk bumped down the hillside, picking up speed as it rolled.

“Let’s roll too!” said Janice.

Four future dragon slayers and one pig flung themselves onto the grass and rolled down the hill. At the bottom, they brushed the grass off, found Erica’s trunk, and started off on the road to the palace.

Along the way, they passed peasants going about their business. Wiglaf overheard some of them talking.

“King Ken is turning into a bloody fool, if you ask me,” said a woman in a white wimple.

“Always has been thick as a plank,” said a man in a leather jerkin. “I want a king I can be proud of—not one who’s famous for setting fire to his breeches.”

Wiglaf glanced at Erica to see if she had heard these comments. It was her father they were talking about!

But Erica only rolled her eyes. “Peasants always complain about royals,” she said. “That’s just the way it is.”

Wiglaf wondered—had Erica forgotten that he was a peasant?

A peasant woman in blue spoke up. “I hear King Ken’s come down with a mysterious illness.”

“King Bob of Bobbinshire is a proper monarch,” said a red-nosed man in grimy leggings. “If anything happens to King Ken, maybe he could be our king.”

Erica frowned. “Peasants love nothing better than spreading ridiculous rumors about the royal family,” she said. Yet she picked up the pace. Soon they came to an iron gate in the high stone wall surrounding the palace.

“Guards!” Erica called through the iron bars. “It is I—Princess Erica Wilamina Bernadette Paula Frieda Marie von Royale!”

Wiglaf had no idea that Erica had so many middle names!

A guard in a bright red uniform ran over to the gate. He peered at Erica. Then he turned and disappeared into the guardhouse.

“He must be new,” Erica said. “Anyway, I have been breaking in since I was three.” With that, she boosted herself onto the iron gate, reached through the bars, and fiddled with the lock.
Boing!
The gates sprang open.

A minute later, Wiglaf of Pinwick was walking around the palace grounds. He could hardly believe it! Ahead he saw hedges trimmed to look like dragons.

“The dragons were my idea,” said Erica. “They look very scary in the moonlight.”

“Zounds, Erica!” exclaimed Wiglaf. “How could you ever leave this palace?”

“It is a fine place for a princess,” she said. “But not for a dragon-slayer-in-training.”

Wiglaf caught sight of a fountain. Gold-tinted water spurted high into the air. Goldfish the size of rabbits swam around in the fountain’s pool.

“The Royal Goldfish Pond,” Erica said. “Hello, Lancelot!” She dabbled her fingers in the water in front of a large goldfish. “Those two are Arthur and Guinevere.”

“Princess Erica!” someone called.

Wiglaf looked up. A blue-uniformed servant was barreling down the palace steps, bowing as he ran.

“Hello, Fawnsley,” said Erica as the servant reached her.

“I am sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Princess Erica.” Fawnsley bowed again. “But there is trouble in the palace. Trouble, I tell you. Oh, woe is us!”

Erica frowned. “What do you mean, Fawnsley? Stop bowing and spit it out!”

“Your father the king—ouch!” Fawnsley had bowed too low and banged his nose on the ground. “Has come down with the pox!”

“So it was not a rumor after all!” cried Erica. “I must go to my father at once!”

“Oh, no, Princess!” Fawnsley bowed. “He will see no one. He is fevered and his royal face is covered with liver-colored spots. His royal hands and his royal arms, too. The royal whole of him, really.”

Wiglaf glanced at Daisy. “Are there any herbs that will get rid of pox?” he asked her.

“Ertainly-cay,”
said Daisy.

“Sixteen doctors have come to cure the king,” Fawnsley said, bowing. “And sixteen have failed. Number seventeen is on his way.”

“Where is my mother, Fawnsley?” said Erica. “I must speak to her now!”

“The queen—” Fawnsley bowed, “—has gone to fetch a wizard. She has heard that wizards work wonders with the pox.”

Now Daisy stepped up to Fawnsley.
“Ake-tay e-may o-tay e-thay ing-kay,
she said.
”I-yay ancay elp-hay im-hay.“

“Egad!” cried Fawnsley. “Did the swine speak? Or am I losing my marbles?”

“‘Twas the pig,” said Erica.

“She asks you to take her to the king,” added Wiglaf. “She says she can help him.”

Fawnsley’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “A p-p-pig?” he sputtered. “Help the k-k-king?” This thought was too much for Fawnsley. His eyes rolled back, and he fainted dead away.

“
G
uards!” called Erica.

Two red-coated guards trotted over to her and saluted.

“See to Fawnsley!” she commanded.

No wonder Erica was so bossy,
Wiglaf thought.
She was used to giving orders. And used to being obeyed.
The guards picked Fawnsley up under his arms and dragged him away.

Erica beckoned her friends. “Come! Let us go to my father,” she said.

The group hurried after her up the steps and into the palace. They rushed through room after room, passing red-coated guards, blue-uniformed servants, and lovely young maidens in lacy silken dresses. Wiglaf stared at them in wonder.

“Are they princesses, too?” he asked.

“They are ladies-in-waiting,” said Erica. “I am the only princess around here.”

Erica led them up a wide staircase and down a hallway. At the end of it, Wiglaf heard someone groaning.

Erica pushed open a golden door and ran into the chamber, calling, “Popsy!”

The others stepped into the room. It was vast—ten times the size of Wiglaf’s whole hovel in Pinwick. The king lay in a great canopy bed at the far end of the chamber.

“Woe!” he cried, staring into a looking glass. “Woe is I!”

Even from a distance, Wiglaf could see that the king was covered with pox.

“Can you help him, Daisy?” Wiglaf asked.

“Erhaps-pay,”
she whispered.

The king lowered his looking glass. “I say!” he cried. “Is that you, Poppet?”

Erica hugged him. “Yes, Popsy!” she said.

“I am be-poxed!” wailed the king. He held up the looking glass again. “Oh, fie! A new pox is popping up on my nose!”

Daisy trotted up to the king’s bed.

“Ood-gay ay-day, Our-yay Oyal-ray Ighnesshay,”
she said.

“Gadzooks!” cried the king again. “I thought I heard the pig speak!”

Wiglaf stepped forward. “You did, sire,” he said. “Her name is Daisy and she said, ‘Good day, Your Royal Highness.’ ”

“Good day?” The king glanced again into the looking glass. “Not for me, it isn’t.”

“Daisy may be of help to you, sire,” said Wiglaf. “She knows how to get rid of pox.”

“She knows all about healing herbs, Popsy,” added Erica.

“Isterwort-blay is-yay est-bay,”
Daisy said.

“Blisterwort is best,” Wiglaf translated.

“I say!” said King Ken. “Has Fawnsley sent me a pig doctor?”

Suddenly the door opened again.

“Never fear!” cried a man in a black cloak and wide-brimmed black hat. He carried a black box. “Dr. Leechworth is here!” He rushed over to the king. “Everybody out!” he shouted. “And take that filthy swine with you.”

“Not so fast,” said Erica. “How do we know you are a good doctor?”

“I cured the Prince of Sneezblastia’s hay fever,” said Dr. Leechworth. “I removed warts from the Queen of Toadsgrabia. I took out the Duchess of Strepthroatsia’s tonsils! And now I will cure King Ken’s pox!”

“How?” asked Erica.

Dr. Leechworth smiled and held up his black box. “I have here the world’s most advanced medicine,” he said, setting the box on the king’s bedside table. He opened it. Dozens of little snakelike heads popped up.

“Down, boys,” said the doctor. “Patience! You shall all get a taste of the king.”

“What are those things?” cried Angus.

“Leeches,” said the doctor. “They will draw out the king’s bad blood. Then his pox will disappear. He will be cured!”

Leeches? Wiglaf’s stomach lurched, and his head swam as he looked at the slimy, black bloodsuckers. The thought of one of them touching his skin made him go weak in the knees.

The doctor lifted a thin leech from the box. “You may feel a tiny sting,” he told the king as he put the leech on his cheek.

“Yowie!” cried the king. “It bit me!”

Wiglaf closed his eyes. He felt very sick and very, very sorry for the king!

“Are—are you sure leeches will help, doctor?” cried Erica.

“Yes,” said Dr. Leechworth.

“O-nay,”
said Daisy.

But no one was playing attention to her.

Every eye but Wiglaf’s was fastened on the doctor as the man quickly dealt out more leeches. He put a dozen on the king’s chest. Several more on each shoulder. One on his forehead. Another on his big toe.

“Look,” said Janice. “The leeches are turning blue.”

Wiglaf opened one eye and was instantly sorry. Gaaach! The leeches had bloated up and turned the color of a bad bruise.

“Shouldn’t they be turning red from sucking blood?” asked Angus.

“Ignorant peasant!” muttered the doctor. “Royals have blue blood.”

“And I want to keep some of mine!” cried the king, who was covered in fat, blue leeches.

“Almost finished,” said the doctor.

“Yoo-hoo, Kenny!” cried a voice from the doorway. “I’m home!”

“Mumsy!” cried Erica, running to her.

“Darling!” cried Queen Barb, giving her a hug. “What a nice surprise! And you’ve brought your friends. And, oh!” The queen’s eyebrows shot up. “A piggy! I am having a day of surprises. Chef Pierre just told me that he can’t find a single pheasant for tomorrow’s feast. So! You’ve seen your poor Popsy, darling. Awful, isn’t it?”

Erica nodded. “Terrible!”

The queen lowered her voice. “I’m letting only a few trusted guards and servants see him,” she said. “I hope they won’t talk. And I trust your friends shan’t either.”

“Never!” said Erica.

The queen sighed. “Your father has been king for twenty-five years,” she said. “Our subjects are coming to the palace tomorrow night to hear his Silver Anniversary speech. I’ve been working with him on it night and day. I want everyone to see what a good, kind king he is—that he’s not just some fool who set fire to his pants.” She pulled out a lace hankie and sniffed into it. “If our subjects see Kenny covered with a strange pox, why, they might banish us from the kingdom.”

Wiglaf remembered the peasants he had overheard on the way to the palace. The queen was right to worry.

“Your father must be poxfree by tomorrow so he can make his speech,” the queen went on. “That’s why I went to fetch a world-famous wizard.”

Probably Zizmor, the head wizard,
Wiglaf thought to himself.

“Hallo, Babsie,” the king called weakly.

The queen rushed over to the king’s bedside. “What are those disgusting things all over you?” she cried.

“Leeches, Your Highness,” said Dr. Leechworth. “Allow me to introduce myself—”

“I don’t care who you are,” said the queen. “Get those big fat suckers off the king, or I’m calling the royal executioner.”

Dr. Leechworth worked fast. He grabbed a swollen blue leech and yanked. POP! Off it came, spewing blue blood in all directions.

Wiglaf gagged. Blue blood made him even sicker than common red blood! He clapped a hand over his mouth and tried to think of something—anything!—besides the bloody scene before him.

POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!

The doctor tried stuffing his leeches back into his black box, but now they were too full and fat to fit. He took off his wide-brimmed hat and dumped leeches into it.

“Oh, my poor Kenny!” wailed Queen Barb. She whirled around and glared at Dr. Leechworth. “Be gone, varlet!”

The doctor quickly picked up his box and, forgetting about the leeches, put on his hat. The slimy creatures oozed out, slid down his face, and attached themselves to his neck.

“Owwww,” squealed the doctor as he ran from the room. “That hurts!”