As quietly as they could manage, the four children tiptoed into the barracks, hoping to avoid a commotion. But no sooner had they stepped inside than a candle spluttered to life and a cluster of eager children surrounded them. The captives of Battalion Minor had sat awake night after night anticipating the return of their liberators. Even the youngest had refused to doze for fear of missing the news when it finally came. Ernest felt a surge of thankfulness that they had not lingered another night in the lavish toadstool palace. For these children, it would have meant another interminable night of waiting and hoping.
When Milli had managed to subdue the excited voices to a whisper, she asked everyone to sit down to hear the story of their travels through the Conjurors’ Realm.
Being deprived of good stories for any length of time can parch a perfectly good imagination and the children of Battalion Minor lapped up every word as a stray cat might a saucer of milk.
Absently petting Muffy-Boo, they listened in rapture, mouths agape, when it came to the part about the dream babies described by Milli. They begged for more when Ernest told them about the marketplace in Runis and what one could see and buy there. They tittered as Finn fleshed out every detail of their stay at the uncongenial Drunken Admiral, and held their breaths while Fennel re-enacted the antics of the vicious Grin Bandits with their rusty pliers.
It was close to midnight when the story was finished. Milli was pleased to see the children were flushed with excitement; some even looked relieved to have been left behind.
‘What exactly did Queen Fidelis say?’ someone asked sleepily.
Milli paused, trying to remember the parts of Fidelis’s speech she had actually understood. As much of it was not communicable, she was forced to condense it in order to convey any real meaning.
‘She said she’s going to help us,’ Milli replied. ‘She sent a message to you all saying not to be afraid and that when the battle comes we will not stand alone.’
Some faces brightened immediately upon hearing this, but others remained uncertain.
‘Lampo says the Fada are the ones we ought to be afraid of,’ a young boy called out. It was clear it had taken a good deal of courage for him to speak for he looked immediately abashed. To make matters worse, his comment unleashed a volley of questions and accusations the children had not been prepared for.
‘Is it true the Fada enchant their visitors and lock them in a dungeon?’
‘Do they really have wings like bats and fangs like a pythons?’
‘Does the Queen truly make her people dance until they can barely stand?’
‘We heard it is always night-time in Mirth.’
‘Did you see their underground torture chambers?’
‘I hope you didn’t eat their cakes. Lampo says if you eat anything in Mirth you can never leave.’
‘Listen!’ Milli called out over the racket. ‘Whatever Lampo has told you is lies. We have been to Mirth, we have eaten there, and as you can see we have come back safe and sound. The Fada are the kindest creatures you could ever hope to meet. Your heads have been filled with hooey-gooey garbage! You mustn’t believe a word of it! If you choose to, you are as bad as Oslo and the rest.’
Some of the children were contrite and silently rebuked themselves, vowing to block their ears next time Lampo addressed them. But others were not persuaded and muttered privately to one another about victory and the tantalising promises Lampo had made in return for their allegiance.
Milli exchanged uneasy glances with Ernest, Finn and Fennel. What had transpired in their short absence for the children to regard their captor as akin to a guardian? How much power had Lampo gained over these children and what fabrications had he used to achieve it? The worst part of it was that some children had stopped questioning and thinking for themselves. A good number had already been persuaded that
the Fada were an enemy that had to be overcome in order for them to get home. And what wouldn’t they do to be able to go home!
‘What else has Lampo told you?’ asked Milli.
‘That if we defeat the Fada in what Oslo calls the Final Fray we can all go back to our families.’
‘If we help Lampo, that will never happen,’ Milli assured them.
The confusion returned to the faces of those assembled.
‘There’s nothing more we can do tonight,’ Ernest said to Milli. ‘Let’s try to get some rest. We’ll all need our wits about us tomorrow.’
As the group began to scatter, still muttering, an eager hand pulled at Milli and a small voice rang out. ‘Wait!’ It was Harrietta Hapless, her hair in two long ropes down her back, her eyes wide with enthusiasm. It appeared she had gained a lot of confidence since her brilliance with tying shoe-laces had been unearthed.
‘What is it, Harrietta?’ Ernest asked.
‘We have something to show you. While you were away, some of us needed a project to keep
our minds off the training,’ Harrietta explained proudly. ‘So we came up with an idea of our own.’
‘Tell us about it,’ Milli encouraged.
‘Well,’ Harrietta said, suddenly hesitant, ‘just be warned that it is…well…disgusting.’
‘It’s crude,’ a voice piped up.
‘It’s unspeakable!’ called another.
‘It’s whiffy!’
‘But brainy!’
‘It’s zany!’
‘And noxious!’
‘What is it?’
asked Milli and Ernest together.
‘If this is a
war
we’re meant to be fighting,’ Harrietta continued gleefully, ‘we decided to develop a secret weapon of our own.’
‘We don’t have the materials to make weapons,’ Finn remarked dismissively.
‘We didn’t
make
one, we
discovered
one,’ Harrietta said. ‘Allow us to give you a quick demonstration.’
Slowly and rather dramatically, the tank-like figure of Gummy Grumbleguts emerged from the shadows. He gave them a bow that sent his chins into a wobbling frenzy.
‘The secret weapon,’ he announced, ‘at your service.’
‘You’re the weapon?’ Fennel cried. ‘You’re the gentlest boy I’ve ever met.’
Gummy looked offended for an instant before a rumbling filled the room like an erupting volcano. It took some moments for the four children to realise the sound was coming from Gummy himself. A few children tittered in amusement.
But was that the worst of it? No, indeed, it was not! All laughter was cut short when the children smelt Gummy’s secret weapon a few moments later.
Suddenly the barracks were overwhelmed by all the terrible smells in the world fused into one through some kind of internal chemical combustion. It is difficult to convey smell in print, but Gummy’s secret weapon combined wet dog with cheese in its final stages of putrefaction. It was like the ham sandwich that has been in your desk at school for the last two years. It was your brother’s sweaty socks and the cow dung fertiliser the next-door neighbours use in their vegetable garden. It was rancid and
pungent and soggy and saccharine all at once. The best way to describe it would probably be to say that it was as
deadly
as paint stripper.
Some children dived under their mattresses for refuge; others buried their noses in the nearest shoulder; and those with respiratory allergies simply stopped breathing altogether. It took every ounce of self-control for Milli not to run from the room. Many did try to escape, but Gummy barred their way in triumph. This was his moment and he was determined to have a full audience.
The inventive Harrietta had taken a hair clasp out of her pocket and used it to peg her nose so she remained unaffected, but poor Ernest was one of those rendered unconscious by the deleterious gas.
The odour refused to dissipate from the barracks for a long time, seeming to haunt the atmosphere like an entity. When at last it was safe to inhale again (and then only in very shallow and tentative gasps) Milli turned to Gummy.
‘What on earth have you been eating?’ she asked. Although her tone denoted both horror
and disgust, she could not conceal that she was also rather impressed.
‘Mostly beans,’ Gummy declared. ‘I’ve been on a strict diet for weeks.’
He rummaged in his pocket, withdrew a crumpled piece of paper and held it out to Milli. In Nonna Luna’s wobbly hand it read as follows:
Nonna’s Hurricane DietGuaranteed to produce flatulence at hurricane levels. To be avoided by newlyweds and those with a social life they wish to preserve.
Bean EntréesBean-based Mains
- White bean salad with mashed egg and red onion
- Kidney bean frittata
- Fried soybeans served on a bed of boiled cauliflower
- Bell peppers stuffed with organic lentils
- Lima bean and sardine roulade
- Mini cabbage rolls stuffed with beans
Beany Desserts
- Black bean enchiladas and a serving of bean bread
- Cheesy bean casserole
- Crispy bean tacos
- Four-bean risotto
- Bean and potato meatloaf
Bean Beverages
- Bread, butter and bean pudding
- Bean cake with cream cheese frosting
- Borlotti bean soufflé with butterscotch sauce
- Chickpea sorbet
- Baked cheesecake with mixed bean crust
- Warm bean juice
- Bean cola
- Bubbly bean cider
- Mineral bean water
- Bean, bean and bitters
- Bean sauvignon blanc
- Creamy bean soda
‘Surely this isn’t all you’ve been eating?’ asked an incredulous Milli. She was beginning to turn woozy herself and hoped it would not be too obvious if she had to sit down suddenly.
‘I can see that Gummy’s dangerous, all right,’ Finn said, ‘but what I don’t see is how we’re going to use him.’
‘It’s always useful to have a secret weapon during a battle,’ said Harrietta. She looked at her watch. ‘You’re just in time for his midnight snack. It allows the digestive juices to build up overnight.’
‘What happens in the morning?’ Fennel asked.
‘We don’t stay around long enough to find out.’
At that moment a stout little figure in an apron and well-worn black boots appeared in the doorway carrying a tray covered with a checked tea towel.
‘My doves, you are back!’ she crooned. ‘How I missa you. Where is my Ernesto?’
When Nonna Luna spotted Ernest on the ground, she gave a strangled cry like a seal and thrust the tray she was carrying into the arms of
the nearest child. She rocketed across the barracks at an alarming speed for an old biddy and gathered Ernest’s prone figure into her arms. Using a bottle of crystallized smelling salts drawn from her apron she was able to quickly revive him.
‘Precious ones,’ Nonna cooed in between kissing and stroking their faces with her sandpaper hands. ‘It is important to want to save da world but more important to stay close to those who lova you. Now, promise you won’t desert us again.’
‘It’s only been a few days, Nonna,’ Ernest protested, his voice muffled by the garlicky apron. Nonna Luna allowed him to come up for air but surveyed him closely.
‘No tattoos?’ she asked suspiciously, checking any skin that was exposed. ‘When Lampo meet that beastly Bombasta the firsta thing he do is get her name tattooed sumawhere I’d rather not say,’ she explained.
Ernest flushed with embarrassment. ‘No, Nonna, I haven’t got any tattoos,’ he replied, hastily pulling down his shirt as Nonna tried to peer under it. ‘And I’m not remotely interested in a
girlfriend.’
‘Ask him if he found a boyfriend,’ Milli prompted, thinking of Princess Salt.
Nonna Luna’s head jerked around in horror, but Ernest glared at Milli and came up with an effective distraction.
‘One thing I have noticed is a lot more headaches since being away from here. You might need to check me for the
Malocchio.’
At the mention of the evil eye all the children gave a synchronised groan. With no Milli and Ernesto to tend to, Nonna Luna had kept herself occupied by flushing their systems of all bad thoughts and ill intentions. They had only submitted to this because of Nonna Luna’s skill for making chicken parmigiana, which was nothing short of a gift.
Harrietta was not quite ready to surrender the limelight just yet. ‘First let them see what we’ve been working on,’ she said to Nonna Luna.
Nonna nodded in agreement and took back the tray she had been carrying. Under the tea towel was the strangest and most unappetising-looking snack the children had ever seen. Milli guessed it was supposed to be some sort of
dessert given the fine-stemmed glass it was served in. But unlike most desserts, it was a murky shade of green.
‘One broccoli soufflé for my Gummy,’ Nonna said and set the tray down before him.
Milli looked in wonder at Gummy, who had taken on the demeanour of an emperor. Everyone hovered around him like disciples, hoping he might share some of his wisdom. But the only words that passed Gummy’s lips were, ‘
Mmm,
tasty…’ He picked up a spoon and licked his lips.
You see, it does not matter to a boy like Gummy Grumbleguts
what
he is eating, so long as he is eating
something.
If he can engage in the action of chewing and swallowing then he is content. Today there would be all sorts of theories as to why Gummy was the size he was, and terms like ‘low self-esteem’ and ‘smothering parents’ might be bandied about in staff rooms. But the simple fact of the matter was that Gummy lived to eat. He did not like food; he loved it. And he saw no reason to deprive himself of what he loved. You cannot dream about food the way Gummy did; about chocolate pudding
with white chocolate sauce or Christmas turkey with all the trimmings, and then be expected to survive on tinned salmon and raw vegetables.
The broccoli soufflé was primarily made up of layers of green foam. It looked more like a green ice-cream sundae and the children wondered if Nonna Luna, with her imperfect English, had got her words mixed up. They stopped thinking this once they spotted the giant red bean on the top where you might have expected to find a glacé cherry or a shard of chocolate. Beneath the mushy layers, pale stalks floated alongside noodles around the bottom of the glass. It looked like some sort of monstrous alien creation that should have come with a warning:
Not for human consumption.
But Gummy tucked in readily and even paid his compliments to the beaming chef.