Milo and the Raging Chieftains (6 page)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

BIG ELLA'S PLAN

W
e whooshed out through the fancy inner door, which Mister Lewis explained was a portal that could take us from past to present, as well as from present to past. We weren't really listening, Shane and me – we were so relieved to be back in our own time.

‘There are two kinds of portals,' Mister Lewis was going on. ‘There's the castle one and the natural arboreal one …'

But we'd lost interest because we were
trying to get Ossie on to the carrier of Shane's bike.

‘It's a wicked thing,' he cried, putting his club into a belt round his middle. ‘I won't touch it.'

It was only when Shane gave him half a sticky Crunchie that we got him aboard. Mister Lewis wafted along beside me.

Then a thought struck me. ‘Hey, Mister Lewis,' I called out, ‘what's going to be outside the castle gates? I'm a bit confused, like, I don't know what century to expect.'

‘No worries, lad,' he shouted. ‘Once we're beyond the castle everywhere will be as you know it.'

‘Really? We're really back in our own time? Are you sure?'

‘Trust me, Milo,' he added. ‘All is the same out there as it was yesterday. Are you having second doubts, lad?' he whispered.

I glanced around at Ossie, his hands clutching Shane's back. He's rude, bossy and a proper little upstart, I thought. But the other side of my brain put in the thought that if it was me trying to save my family, I'd be just like him. So, before the surging longing of turning towards home took over, I shook my head. ‘No,' I sighed. ‘No second thoughts.'

‘I knew you'd say that,' said Mister Lewis. ‘Good man.'

Well, that was no help. I was still as scared as a trapped mouse in a cattery.

‘Shane,' Mister Lewis called out behind us. ‘Follow us to Big Ella's.

‘No way!' shouted Shane. ‘She'll eat me alive and spit out me bones for sneaking out this late.'

‘Don't be crude, boy. Your granny and I have met before.'

I knew that, of course, because I'd been there when there was this incident with a druid. But that's another story. I'd never told Shane what had really happened. I was forbidden by Big Ella to tell him. Not ever.

The street was quiet as we pedalled towards Shane's house.

‘I'm not sure I want to do this,' said Shane. ‘Big Ella will have a gigantic hissy fit, and I'll be grounded for years until I have no teeth and am too old to ride my bike.'

The lights were on downstairs. That was no surprise, when Big Ella gets a notion to paint a picture she goes for it straight away. Shane stood behind me as Mister Lewis ‘cooeed' through the letterbox that Ossie held open. The door was flung open and Big Ella stood there with a dripping paintbrush in her hand. Shane clutched my arm. Like, I was going to protect him? But
her face beamed when Mister Lewis moved in front of her.

‘Mister Lewis!' she exclaimed. ‘How wonderful to see you again. Come in, come in,' she went on, standing aside. Then she saw Shane. We waited for her shrill yell, but she just shook her head and smiled. ‘You two boys been with Mister Lewis? That's good. And who is this, um, pretty little girl?'

‘I'M NOT A GIRL!' shrieked Ossie. ‘I AM THE SON OF RORY RUA.'

‘Whatever you say, honey. Come along in.'

Shane let out the breath he'd been holding, and it went right down the back of my neck. I glanced up the road to my house and was glad to see that the lights were out, which meant that Mum was asleep. Dad wouldn't be back from night duty until tomorrow morning. I hoped I would be there in the flesh to say ‘Hi, Dad', and not wafting about
as a ghost. I almost bit my lip totally off my face as I forced myself to go into Big Ella's house instead of racing home.

Big Ella shooed us all into her big kitchen that smelled of all kinds of spices, fruit and paint.

‘Ah, my old kitchen,' said Mister Lewis, sitting into a chair. ‘Everything, looks good, lady,' he sighed. ‘I feel so at home.'

Which was quite true. He had lived here years and years ago before he made a bad mistake and was destined to mooch around the garden as a ghost for years and years. Until he met me of, course. And I saved him – sort of.

‘You have turned it into a very cosy place,' he said to Big Ella.

‘You come back here any time you want, Mister Lewis,' she said. ‘Now, what can I do for you folks?'

Mister Lewis took a deep sniff. ‘Am I dreaming, or is that cocoa I'm smelling?

‘It is indeed, Mister Lewis,' chuckled Big Ella. ‘I like a mug of hot cocoa when I'm painting late at night. Would you like some?'

Mister Lewis shook his head sadly. ‘Oh, I would love a mug of cocoa,' he sighed. ‘It's been so many years since I tasted cocoa, but it's the hands, you see, my good lady,' he went on, holding them up. ‘No substance. The darned things just go through everything.'

‘No worries,' said Big Ella, rummaging in a drawer and producing a pair of woolly gloves with spaceship patterns on them. ‘Let's try these for size.'

‘My good space gloves!' Shane spluttered.

‘Good space gloves?' echoed Big Ella. ‘You've never even worn them, boy. “Too babyish” you said. But I could knit some more,' she said as she put them on Mister
Lewis's hands.

‘Aw, it's OK,' Shane muttered.

‘Thank you, lad,' said Mister Lewis, holding up his woolly hands and reaching for a spoon on the table. We all held our breath. And then he did it – he picked up the spoon!

‘Look!' he exclaimed, holding up the spoon. ‘It stays in my hand.'

‘That's just grand,' laughed Big Ella. ‘Now perhaps you can have a mug of cocoa.'

Mister Lewis's face lit up like a beacon. So we all had mugs of cocoa to celebrate. And, wonder of wonders, Ossie's face turned positively angelic as he downed ‘this strange and wonderful nectar' as he called it.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SMELLY POTIONS

B
eing a well-mannered gentleman, Mister Lewis told Big Ella all about why we needed to sort out Roc and his gang and save our castle and the town. At first, she looked at me and Shane and shook her head. I must admit that I kinda hoped she’d put a stop to us getting involved. But then, she simply nodded and said, ‘Well, let’s see what we can do, eh?’

‘If you had something that might make
those thugs fall asleep,’ began Mister Lewis.

‘Oh, I have a much better idea,’ Big Ella chuckled. ‘Clear the table, folks. There’s work to be done.’

Big Ella got us to carry boxes and small bottles from her ‘witchy den’ as Shane calls it. She put on a big apron and set to work, mixing foul-smelling powders, puke-yellow potions and slimy green stuff. Every now and then she held up a strange little bottle of gunge and explained its use.

‘Golden Seal,’ she said. ‘From the root of American crowfoot family.’

‘What does it do, Gran?’ asked Shane.

Big Ella just tapped her nose. ‘You’ll find out,’ she announced.

Other strangely named stuff such as arrowroot and horsetail. ‘For the kidneys,’ she added. ‘And this,’ she said, holding up a small plant. ‘This is clary sage.’

‘What’s that for?’ I asked.

‘Explosions,’ Big Ella laughed.

‘Bombs?’ exclaimed Shane. ‘Cool.’

‘Not quite,’ Big Ella chuckled. ‘But mixed with this other stuff it will …’

‘Cause thunderous gas,’ Mister Lewis interrupted.

When everything was stirred and bottled, Big Ella put her hands on her hips and looked at the four of us.

‘So, tell me,’ she began. ‘How do you folks hope to get inside Roc’s castle?’

‘Erm,’ began Mister Lewis, taking off his hat and scratching his head with the gloves.

‘You haven’t thought it through, have you?’ sighed Big Ella.

‘I thought perhaps we could sneak into the kitchen,’ Mister Lewis began.

‘SNEAK?’ barked Big Ella. ‘You don’t SNEAK, man. You go in with glory and
splendour. Come on. Let’s make you lot look majestic. Follow me.’

She led us upstairs to her bedroom.

‘What’s she going to do?’ I whispered to Shane.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘How should I know? When Big Ella gets an idea, nothing will stop her.’

Big Ella flung open a big wardrobe and began taking out strange and dazzling clothes. She chose a mud-coloured cloak, put it over Ossie’s shoulders and fastened it with a safety pin. ‘There, lad,’ she said. ‘That will disguise your rich clothing.’

Mister Lewis asked Ossie if he’d ever met Roc.

‘No. He’s my father’s enemy,’ he said. ‘He has never been to our castle, nor I to his.’

‘Well, that’s good,’ said Big Ella. ‘He won’t know who you are. Still,’ she went on,
‘perhaps you should stay away from him in case he sees a resemblance to your father.’

‘Good thinking, lady,’ said Mister Lewis.

Then Big Ella turned towards Shane and me.

‘Now, you boys,’ she said, looking at us up and down. ‘How will we disguise you?’

‘Minstrels, I think,’ put in Mister Lewis. ‘Minstrels are always welcome in castles.’

‘Good thinking, Mister Lewis,’ she said. ‘Perfect.’

‘Mmm,’ Mister Lewis mused. ‘A boy and a girl, wouldn’t you say?’

‘Decidedly,’ Big Ella clapped her hands.

‘Well, that’ll be easy,’ I giggled, nodding towards Ossie’s long hair.

‘Oh no,’ Mister Lewis said. ‘You’ll make a wonderful girl, Milo. Ossie is fine as he is – a very fourteenth-century boy. But we need a lady minstrel.’

‘No WAY!’ I cried out.

Well, despite all my shouting and pushing and kicking, I was decked out in a long blue dress, Miss Lee’s red shoes that Big Ella fetched from my bike and stuffed with rolled-up socks to make them fit. And, worst of all, a girlie bonnet with two yellow plaits attached. Talk about cringe!

‘If you ever tell anyone about this,’ I hissed at Shane. ‘I’ll clobber you, understand?’

‘With what?’ he laughed. ‘One of your pigtails?’

It was only when Mister Lewis mentioned finding Miss Lee that I calmed down.

‘Minstrels need musical instruments,’ sighed Mister Lewis, scratching his chin.

‘Done!’ said Shane, running into his bedroom and arriving back, waving the guitar he’d got for Christmas. He handed me a small, long drum. ‘That’s a real ancient African armpit drum made of goatskin,’ he
said proudly. ‘You put it under your arm and bang it with your other hand.’

‘Yecch,’ I muttered. I didn’t know which was the most disgusting, the dead goat or the armpit. ‘If you’ve had this under your armpit, I’m not using it!’

‘Yes you will,’ said Big Ella. ‘OK?

‘Yeah,’ I muttered. Big Ella has that effect on people.

‘Now Mister Lewis,’ said Big Ella, turning to where the spook was sitting in an armchair. ‘What can we do for you? How about a nice turban …?’

‘Nice nothing, thank you, lady,’ he put in. ‘I have the great power of stealth. I can be invisible.’

‘Shame,’ said Big Ella. ‘You would look elegant in a turban.’

Mister Lewis scowled at Shane and me when we sniggered. ‘Time to go,’ he muttered.

We went downstairs and tied the box containing the weird potions, guitar and drum on Shane’s carrier because it’s bigger than mine.

That meant that I had to take Ossie on my bike. One moan from him, I told myself, and he’s dumped. However, since I was stuck with a wig and a girlie bonnet, I gave him my bicycle helmet.

‘Cool,’ he said. Well, at least he was learning proper English.

‘Hold on!’ said Big Ella, running after us, carrying a big floppy hat with a feather on it. ‘That’s for you, Shane. It’ll do as a minstrel’s hat,’ she said as she put it into the spice box.

‘Why do I have to wear a poncy thing like that?’ he cried. ‘No way!’

‘Because you have to look like a minstrel, lad,’ put in Mister Lewis.

‘HA!’ I laughed. ‘We’re quits now.’

‘Take care,’ Big Ella called after us. ‘Be brave, be careful, and do whatever Mister Lewis says.’

We’d gone about half a mile when Mister Lewis stopped us at the woods near the castle. He asked us to focus our lamps on him and we watched as he went around touching the trees.

‘What is he at?’ began Shane.

I sure hoped his mind hadn’t flipped. You never quite know what a dead person gets up to. I mean – touching trees, for goodness sake!

‘Ah here we are,’ he said eventually, putting his hand on a gnarled old tree. ‘The arboreal portal!’

‘The what?’ Shane and I exclaimed.

‘Didn’t you listen to me?’ he said. ‘When I was telling you about the different portals. This one is nature’s arboreal portal – trees,
boys, as distinct from the indoor castle portal. Indeed,’ he added, ‘there is a third portal somewhere, but I’ve forgotten where.’

‘Can we please get going, sire,’ said Ossie. ‘Time is running out.’

Mister Lewis nodded and placed his two hands on the tree and muttered something. A cold breeze whooshed out and a dark hole appeared.

‘Quickly now,’ said Mister Lewis. ‘Nature’s portal lasts only a few seconds. Turn off your lamps before we go through. Nature doesn’t like artificial light.’

‘Will it open this way when we come back?’ asked Shane, before making a move.

‘Eh,’ Mister Lewis hesitated. ‘Trust me,’ he answered.

Well, those words didn’t give out good vibes.