Milo and the Raging Chieftains (9 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

OSSIE'S BIG DAY

‘
N
eat gear,' Shane whispered in my ear. ‘Very macho, Milo. Perfect for scaring young kids and old ladies. Mind that hair doesn't stab someone.'

Well, maybe I had overdone the hair gel, but the T-shirt with the image of a snarling medieval knight swinging a sword was pure class.

Shane, on the other hand, was wearing a long yellow shirt with a leather belt and
knee-length green shorts.

‘You look like apple and custard.' I grinned back at him.

‘Perfect,' he said. ‘A classy dessert, that's me!'

The noisy, crowded courtyard was alive with knights – some of them on horseback. There were soldiers with lances; swordsmen mock fighting; lowly peasants; and a few baldy monks. Most of the women were wearing long velvety dresses and pointy hats which had bits of lace hanging from them. Others wore the sort of peasant clothes you'd see in history books about hard times.

No, we hadn't been whooshed back to the fourteen hundreds again; it was the opening day of the castle, and the whole place was buzzing. We walked among the chattering crowd, and we really wished we could tell
them that we were responsible for all this jollity.

‘What's the point of being brilliant heroes if we can't be famous?' Shane moaned.

‘Who'd believe us?' I said. ‘We'd be jeered as nutters for the rest of our lives.'

‘We believe you,' a voice whispered, and spaceship gloves patted our faces.

‘Mister Lewis!' I cried. ‘You're here!'

‘I am indeed,' he declared as he materialised. ‘And Ossie. Come, lad,' he whispered. ‘You'll fit in very well.'

We cheered when Ossie suddenly materialised with a big grin – still wearing my blue cycle helmet

‘My old home,' he said. ‘Cold!'

‘I think you mean
cool
,' I said, laughing. ‘Come on, let's have a look around.'

‘I'm not exactly dressed for the occasion,' said Mister Lewis.

‘Nobody will notice,' said Shane. ‘Look around, there are all kinds of weird costumes. Chill, man.'

‘Just try to keep your feet on the ground,' I added. ‘No wafting.'

The jollity was pure manic as we strolled around. Down near the portcullis there was an archery competition.

‘Ah,' said Shane. ‘Let's have a go, lads. There will be a prize.'

Well, he shot his arrow over the target and hit the back wall. My effort just fell to the ground.

‘Go on, lad,' Mister Lewis urged Ossie. ‘Show them how it's done.'

Ossie picked up the bow like a pro. He stood erect, aimed, and shot a straight bullseye. The crowd clapped. He took another arrow and sliced it through the first one. The crowd cheered. And when he
shot the third arrow through the other two, everyone went mad, clapping and cheering.

‘Wow!' said the man in charge. ‘You've rightly won the top prize.' He handed Ossie one of those cheap trophies you'd get in knick-knack shops. ‘Nice wig,' he went on, pointing to Ossie's long, red hair. ‘Very authentic. Good girl.'

I tensed, waiting for Ossie's outburst, but luckily two men lifted him up for all to see and cheer again and again.

‘A precious silver bowl,' Ossie cried, holding it up as if it was the most magnificent thing ever. ‘I wish my archery tutor could see this,' he shouted, which raised a loud laugh from the crowd.

As we all made our way across the courtyard, Mister Lewis and Ossie were lagging behind, everybody was oohing and aahing over the trophy, congratulating the
little archer. Shane and I were passing the arch of the portcullis, with its KEEP OUT sign, when two figures in black medieval peasant gear jumped out from a dark recess. Wedge and Crunch. Just what we needed – NOT!

Wedge grinned as the two of them pushed us farther into the arch. ‘Look who it is, the nerdiest nerds in town. Got your pocket money, guys?'

Of course we tried to push them away when they went to search our pockets, but their bony fingers were well versed in pinching flesh – especially lots of flesh like Shane's. As Ossie passed close to the arch Shane shouted out to him to get Mister Lewis.

Our hearts sank when Ossie came on through, still carrying his trophy and told us Mister Lewis had gone ahead to see Big Ella
in the food tent. Crunch roughly pushed me into Wedge's iron clutches and turned his mean eyes on Ossie.

‘Hello there,' he said with a nasty grin. ‘Nice piece of tin you have there, sweetheart. That'll go nicely with our collection. What do you think, Crunch?'

Crunch let go of Shane's yellow shirt and pushed him towards me.

‘Ooh ah,' he smiled. ‘Bit of class, that. It should melt nicely with the rest of our stuff, Wedge.'

Ossie frowned as the bully boys were pushing me and Shane around. But as they moved towards him and he saw their faces in daylight, he went totally mental.

‘Thieves!' he shouted. ‘Did I not already set you running – and now you come back for more? Fools!'

‘Huh?' grunted Wedge, who had no idea
what Ossie was shouting about. The two bullies paused for second, and then they both laughed. First big mistake. To me and Shane they were Wedge and Crunch, but to Ossie they were the medieval forebears who'd tried to nick our bikes in the past.

‘Calm down, little girl,' said Crunch, laughing.

Oops, second big mistake!

Before we could even think what to do next, Ossie put down his trophy and, with flying kicks and trained, lightning fists, he had our arch enemies screaming for help.

‘I … am … not … a … girl!' he roared, picking up his trophy.

Shane looked back at the two dazed victims. ‘Careful, guys,' he warned as he stepped over Crunch and Wedge. ‘This kid has a whole history of neat moves.'

‘And he's our oldest friend,' I put in.

Mister Lewis was sitting at Big Ella's table in the marquee, eyeing the goodies and wondering what to do with the straw in his glass of juice. Sitting on another seat, chatting to Mister Lewis was Miss Lee.

‘Ah, my heroes,' she said. Then she looked curiously at Ossie. I got ready to jump in if she mentioned the ‘girl' word, but they just stared at one another.

‘My goodness,' laughed Big Ella looking from one to the other. ‘Two identical redheads at my table.'

‘Are you from around here?' Miss Lee asked Ossie.

‘Just visiting,' I put in.

‘From Afar,' Shane giggled.

‘Ah,' said Miss Lee. ‘I'm admiring how your medieval clothes go so well with the blue cycle helmet. What a funny coincidence,' she said, turning to the rest of
us, ‘I'm descended from Rory Rua's famous son. He was nicknamed Osgur of the Blue Headgear.'

‘We know, Miss,' I butted in. ‘He raised the alarm when his father's castle was about to be captured by a kinsman of his. Me and Shane do our research just like you tell us. It's all on Google.'

‘Yes! Google Earth, that's me,' Ossie said with a huge grin.

‘This is all very interesting,' interrupted Shane. ‘But we're wasting good eating time. Are you ever going to cut that cream cake, Gran?'

About the Author

Mary Arrigan studied at the National College of Art, Dublin, and at Florence University. She became a fulltime writer in 1994. Her novel for teenagers,
The Rabbit Girl
, one of her forty-two published books, was selected by The United States Board of Books for Young People on their list of Outstanding International Books for 2012. Her awards include the International White Ravens title, a Bisto Merit Award,
The Sunday Times
Crime Writers Association Award and The Hennessy Short Story Award. Her books have been translated into twelve languages. You can read more Milo Adventures in
Milo and One Dead Angry Druid
, and
Milo and the Long Lost Warriors
.

When Shane’s gran digs up a weird ancient stone, best buddies Milo and Shane find themselves face to face with its owner − one dead angry druid. Willie Jones’s lizard goes mental and Shane disappears. Milo is in deep, deep trouble and he needs a rescue plan before midnight strikes.

Milo and his best buddy Shane are on a school trip to a museum and a mock battle. So far, so cool.

Milo’s ghostly friend Mister Lewis wants to help three lost warriors who are trapped in the museum. They’re from the real Battle of Clontarf, one thousand years ago.

But then the two school bullies, Crunch and Wedge, turn up, and they’re just looking for trouble …