The Karate Princess Page 4

  ‘Teach me karate, Your High Royalship,’ pleaded Knackerleevee.

  ‘You’ll have to come with me,’ said Belinda sharply.

  ‘I will, I will.’

  ‘Wherever I go?’

  ‘Wherever you go, Royalness. I shall follow you everywhere if only you will teach me the secret of your strength.’

  Belinda reached down and touched the Bogle for the first time. His skin was hairy and caked with mud, but it was warm and soft underneath. ‘I don’t think you’re such a bad beast after all,’ she said. The Bogle gazed up at her with grateful eyes.

  ‘Everybody’s got to eat something,’ he pointed out.

  ‘Hmmm. I think eating people is a bit much, you know.’

  ‘But they taste so nice, Princess! Especially the legs!’

  ‘Even when they’re like string?’ suggested Belinda. Knackerleevee lowered his eyes, mortified.

  ‘I’m sorry I was so rude,’ he stammered.

  ‘Oh, come on, you big lump! Stop being so gloomy. Get up and show me the way out of this horrible place.’

  Knackerleevee dragged himself out of the mud. He swung Belinda up on to his shoulders to ride in triumph, and together they set off for dry land.

  ‘We must find Hubert,’ hiccuped Belinda, who was getting rather bounced about on the Bogle’s massive shoulders.

  ‘Who’s Hubert, Your Royalshipness?’ asked the Bogle, splashing through the marsh.

  ‘He’s an artist, and he’s rather sensitive, so try not to upset him. Oh, and Knackerleevee?’

  ‘Yes, O Royalshipnesty?’

  ‘My name is Belinda, and if you call me a royal whatsit once more, I shall give you a demonstration of karate on your head. Do you understand?’

  The Bogle grinned and plunged on through the mist. He began to sing in a cheese-grater voice, and soon the swirling mists drew apart and they struggled out on to dry land. The sun was shining, the marsh was behind them and there was Hubert, sitting behind a large canvas with a big brushful of grey-green paint at the ready.

  The royal painter looked so terrified you might well have thought he’d seen a Bogle beasty, which he had, so no wonder. But Belinda climbed down from the Bogle’s back and told Hubert the whole story, and at the end they even shook hands. Hubert was still holding his big paintbrush, which was rather unfortunate for Knackerleevee, but he said he didn’t mind since he was practically that colour anyway.

  They were just thinking of sitting down and opening the packed lunches they’d brought on the cart when there was a cheerful shout from a nearby rock and the Princess Saramanda popped up her pretty head, all a-glitter with diamonds.

  ‘Yoohoo!’ she cried ever so sweetly. ‘Belinda! Look behind you!’

  Belinda glanced over her shoulder. ‘Oh dear,’ she murmured.

  Waiting behind them, and armed to the teeth with swords and bows and real guns that went bang! if you pulled the triggers, were Saramanda’s cut-throat robbers. There were only nine of them, as the others were still in hospital, and some of the nine had their arms in slings or were propped up on crutches.

  Nevertheless they were there, and they would not come any closer. They pointed their guns with a great deal of menace while Saramanda explained the situation.

  ‘Really, Belinda, it is most terribly kind of you to get this ugly Bogle beasty for me. King Krust is going to be so delighted. Do you know, he’ll probably be so pleased he’ll let me marry that deliciously handsome Bruno creature and then I shall have half a kingdom too.’

  Saramanda fluttered her long eyelashes and sighed at the thought of it all. ‘Now my cut-throat robbers, take this smelly mattress on legs and tie him to the cart. When you’ve done that you can take thëse two back into the marsh – and make sure they never come out!’

  6

  Hubert is artful

  Belinda watched helplessly while Knackerleevee was forced to the old cart. The wary robbers kept their distance. They had learnt their lesson and they knew that if they came too close to either the Bogle or Belinda there would be trouble. So they stayed safely a few paces away, waving their swords and guns.

  Belinda felt very sorry for Knackerleevee. Things had taken quite an unexpected turn, and there was no telling what would happen to the Bogle when Saramanda turned up at the castle. She watched sadly as the cart jerked forwards and slowly rumbled away down the track and out of sight, with the Bogle bound and gagged and stuffed beneath some old canvases of Hubert’s.

  Belinda and Hubert had their own problems, for the nine remaining robbers were obviously looking forward to carrying out Saramanda’s orders. The new leader (you will remember that the old one was left stuck up a tree) was a fine fellow, a good five feet tall and wearing a black hat with a rim so enormous you could have filled it with water and sailed little boats round it. He also wore big black boots and he kept his swords, any number of them, stuffed down the insides. If he took his boots off, you would have seen his feet were covered in plasters.

  The other robbers were all grinning madly and wriggling their swords and guns and muttering dark threats.

  ‘Chop off their heads!’

  ‘No – chop off their ears!’

  ‘Chop everything. Chip, chop, chop the lot!’

  Belinda had heard it all before, but last time she had been able to save herself with a display of karate. It didn’t seem as if she would have the chance this time and she was quite at a loss to know what to do. She whispered to Hubert beside her.

  ‘I’m sorry for getting you into this mess.’

  Hubert stared glumly at his unfinished painting of Belinda fighting the Bogle. He wished that he could do something for once, but all he could do was paint pictures of kings and important people. He couldn’t fight, not even to save his life. He wasn’t at all brave. Sometimes the royal painter hated himself.

  The robber chief swaggered up to Belinda and stuck a knife under her chin. ‘Come on, Your Most Royal Royal Highness. We’ve got to take a little walk. This way!’

  Hubert suddenly jumped forward and grabbed the robber’s arm. ‘Stop a moment. Hold it… That’s it! Fantastic!’ The robber chief half closed one eye and glared at Hubert.

  ‘What are you playing at?’ he growled.

  The royal painter slowly shook his head and murmured, ‘Such a fine head! When you moved just now you looked so strong and powerful. It really should be painted.’ Hubert stroked the robber chief’s bristly beard. ‘Magnificent. Think how it would look on canvas, with a big gold frame round it. Such a head!’

  By this time the robber chief was looking considerably less angry and was preening his beard thoughtfully. ‘Of course I look magnificent,’ he declared. ‘I’m a cut-throat robber chief.’

  Hubert clasped his hands together. ‘Please,’ he began, ‘please let me paint your portrait before I die. I’ve always wanted to paint a picture of somebody marvellous, somebody whose face really shows strength of character and brave resolve. You have just that face… ‘

  Two of the other robbers pushed Hubert roughly to one side.

  ‘If he’s going to paint you, then he’s going to paint all of us. We’ll all have our picture painted, won’t we, lads?’

  ‘Oh yes!’ cried Belinda. ‘Do paint them all, Hubert. They’re such a fine-looking bunch of fellows.’

  Now all the robbers began to lick their fingers and tidy their hair. They brushed the dry mud from their breeches and tucked their shirts in. Hubert began to organize them into a little group. The robber chief was still mighty suspicious, but he was desperate to have his portrait done by a real, royal artist. He stood very stiff and pompous in the middle of his gang and pointed his gun at Princess Belinda.

  ‘Don’t you get any funny ideas, Princess, or this gun will go off and you’ll go off with it.’

  Belinda smiled and replied, ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. ‘And she winked at Hubert. The painter set up his easel and canvas and selected his paints. Then he began to paint. He worked quickly, slapping the colours on
and working them deftly with masterstrokes of the brush. The robbers began to shift about nervously, dying to know what their picture looked like. Hubert threw the brush over his shoulder.

  ‘Finished!’ he cried. There was a mad charge as the robbers dashed round to the other side of the easel to see their portrait. Hubert carefully withdrew.

  There was a great roar of laughter, and another one of rage. ‘Ha, ha! Look at the chief’s ear. It looks like a cabbage. ‘

  ‘It is a cabbage. It is a cabbage, and look at his nose. It’s all purple and blue. And look, look, that’s you at the back there.’

  ‘Where? That’s not me.’

  ‘Of course it is. Your nose looks just like that cucumber!’

  ‘My nose isn’t like a cucumber. That’s you – don’t you even recognize yourself? If you don’t recognize the nose, you can tell by those crossed eyes. I’ve never seen anybody as cross-eyed as you in my life.’

  ‘Me cross-eyed! Who are you calling crosseyed, you mouldy cucumber snout? I’ll make you cross-eyed!’ Out came the swords and soon the nine cut-throat robbers were hard at it, slicing each other up and poking and prodding and biffing and baffing until there was so much dust they would never have seen Belinda and Hubert slowly creep away even if they had stopped for a moment.

  The princess and the painter found the robbers’ horses tied to some nearby trees. Belinda jumped up into the saddle and called to Hubert.

  ‘Come on, hurry!’

  ‘I can’t ride. I’ve never ridden a horse in all my life.’

  Belinda pulled her mount round and rode to Hubert. ‘It’s very easy,’ she explained. ‘You sit on its back and put one leg on each side and hold on tight.’

  ‘I know that!’ snapped Hubert. ‘I’m not stupid. How do I get up on to it?’

  ‘You think about nine robbers about to stick their swords into you and jump!’

  Hardly were the words out of her mouth than Hubert was up on a horse, wobbling a little and facing the tail, but still in the saddle. Belinda held the horse steady while Hubert turned himself round. Then she released all the other horses and shooed them away, so that they went off at a gallop, leaving the robbers with a transport problem.

  Hubert and Belinda then set off at a gallop themselves, determined to catch up with the cheating Saramanda before she reached the palace and claimed both prince and half the kingdom for herself. Hubert had a very hard time of it and he felt as if he were trying to control a high-speed earthquake. He was so shaken and jarred he was quite certain that by the time he reached the palace all his bones would be lying in tiny fragments at the bottom of his boots and the palace guards would have to tip him out on to the floor when he arrived.

  Everything seemed to do its best to slow them down. First of all Hubert forgot to hold on to his reins and did a wonderful backward somersault over the horse’s tail to land in the hard dust. Then he forgot to press his knees against the horse’s sides and bounced so high he landed almost on the horse’s head – and the horse wasn’t at all pleased about that. Then they went galloping through a wood and no fewer than five tree branches whopped the poor painter in the stomach or on the head and knocked him flying from his panting mount.

  At last Belinda gave up and declared that he would have to sit behind her and hold on tight. By this time Hubert was only semiconscious, and it was the only thing he was capable of doing anyway.

  With the extra weight they could not make much speed, and they had to stop frequently

  to let the poor horse regain some strength. Eventually they trotted up a long rise, and when they reached the top they saw King Krust’s castle in front of them, on the far side of the plain.

  Belinda could just make out a puff of dust crawling towards the great castle wall. Even as she watched, the distant cart stopped at the gates.

  ‘Well,’ muttered Belinda, ‘she’s got there before us. But I’m not giving up yet.’ She urged the horse down the hill towards the glittering castle.

  7

  A princely prize

  Princess Saramanda Sneak entered the castle in triumph. King Krust himself came hurrying down the castle’s great stairway, almost tripping over his real fox-fur robe in his rush to greet the princess. She waited at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes bright with success and her heart black with cheating.

  The king had to stand on the bottom step to say hallo, and even then Saramanda was taller than he was.

  ‘You were so quick!’ cried King Krust. Then he spied the red paint on her dress. ‘Are you hurt? Are you wounded? Are you all right?’

  The princess gave a little shrug. ‘It’s nothing. Just a flesh wound. The Bogle must have scratched me as I threw him over my shoulder.’

  The king’s eyes rolled right round and back to where they started. ‘You threw the Bogle over your shoulder? Goodness, such strength. Bruno will be delighted.’ The king gave her a sly grin. ‘He’s been practising, you know.’

  At that moment Prince Bruno de Bruno Bunkum Krust himself made a guest appearance. He stood at the top of the stairs, his firm jaw jutting out firmly, his shoulders bulging with overworked muscles beneath his dapper tunic and his half-closed eyes resting lazily on the company below.

  Most of the ladies-in-waiting swooned at the mere sight of so handsome a creature. He came slowly down the stairs, his sword clinking at his side, until he finally reached the bottom step and stood in front of the Princess Saramanda, eyeing her carefully.

  ‘Ah,’ he drawled.’So you are Saramanda. My father has told me all about you. He is quite right. You’re very beautiful. I hear you threw the Bogle over your shoulder.’

  The princess smiled sweetly and curtsied.’Yes,’ and she blushed prettily and added, ‘I’m afraid my dress got a little blood on it.’

  The prince studied the paint stains gravely.’Indeed. You must find a lady-in-waiting and have it seen to. Then we shall discuss the wedding.’ Bruno leant forward and took Saramanda’s hand and kissed it.

  ‘Just a minute, just a minute,’ interrupted the king.’We haven’t even seen this Bogle yet. Where is this horrible monster? Is it dead or alive?’

  ‘I have it in the cart, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Oh, fine fine. Bring in the cart!’ roared King Krust. The huge doors were pushed open and Hubert’s old cart was rolled into the hall.’Isn’t that Hubert’s cart?’ asked the king.’I wonder what happened to him.’

  Saramanda bent close to the king’s ear and whispered.’I’m afraid he was rather frightened by all the roaring and he ran away. I don’t know where he went.’

  King Krust patted her hand.’Don’t worry, my dear. Plenty more royal painters where he came from. Never did like him much. He always painted the queen’s nose too large and made me sit quite still for hours, you know. Hours and hours. I used to get pins and needles in my erhum, you know, my… ‘

  ‘Oh yes!’ cried Saramanda.’I know.’ The king nodded with great seriousness.

  Then the old canvas cover was pulled from the cart and there was Knackerleevee, peacefully snoring away at the bottom of the cart with his legs tied to his arms and his arms tied to his legs. In fact, there was so much rope and hair he looked like a giant ball of wool, very badly wound.

  Everybody gathered round and stared at the famous monster from the Marsh at the End of the World. King Krust borrowed a guard’s spear and gave the Bogle a little poke.’Are you sure it’s alive?’ he asked the princess.

  Bruno de Bruno was holding his nose and waving one hand in front of his face.’I say, it’s a bit of a strong pong, isn’t it?’

  Somebody suggested that the Bogle looked like a mouldy old carpet and smelled like one too. Everybody began to lean forward and poke the helpless creature, and eventually Knackerleevee must have begun to feel something through his thick hide because he opened one pink eye and glared out through the sides of the cart. Then he snorted and tried to stretch himself. Finding himself all bound up, he suddenly remembered what had befallen him.

  Now, Kn
ackerleevee may have been ugly and dirty and smelly and not too clever, but he was proud. So he didn’t lose his temper or growl or roar and spit. He just lowered his head once more and stared back at all the people staring at him.

  King Krust was disappointed.’It doesn’t look very fierce,’he ventured.

  ‘That’s because I tied him up,’ said Saramanda. The Bogle watched the princess thoughtfully, thinking that she was the one who had caused all the trouble.

  ‘Was it a terrible fight?’ asked Bruno, peering closely at Knackerleevee’s long fingernails.

  ‘He was very strong,’ said Saramanda,

  leaning against the cart.’But I beat him in the end,’ and she smiled.

  The Bogle suddenly heaved himself upright, with a roaring splutter that was half laughter and half anger. ‘That daisy-faced-little-bitty-pretty-pretty princess! Beat me? She couldn’t squeeze a lemon! Do you think she fought me? Is that what she’s told you? I’ll tell you what… ‘

  But King Krust had got his spear and poked it angrily at the Bogle. The king’s face was quite red. ‘How dare you speak like that to a princess! Don’t you dare to call her daisy-faced – or she’ll throw you over her shoulder again.’

  ‘Ha! She couldn’t throw a banana skin, let alone me. I’m Knackerleevee the Bogle, and nobody, nobody, gets the better of me except… ‘

  ‘Don’t listen to him,’ cried Saramanda. ‘He’s just being nasty because he lost the fight.’

  Knackerleevee gave a low growl and tried to get away from the little pin pricks of the king’s spear. ‘It was Belinda who beat me, and I don’t mind telling you. She’s the strongest and the kindest person I have ever met. As for this glittering thing here – she’s a cheat and a liar.’

  Prince Bruno de Bruno rushed up to the cart and rattled the sides furiously. ‘Don’t you dare speak to my future wife like that, you overgrown fungus. Apologize at once!’

  Knackerleevee glared at the prince with his pink eyes and snorted. ‘Go away and do your press-ups, you overgrown muscle.’