Excerpt from Grickle the Hero

 

 

     Grickle walked briskly down the road, whistling brightly.

"Just a few days ago at this time I’d have been walking up that

miserable hill on my way to the stables. But now, here I am on my way to great adventure!"

     He whistled a few more bars of his jolly tune, and then - after checking to be certain there was no one in sight - danced a few steps of a jig. He could hardly keep from laughing aloud.

      But by noon his spirits had flagged a little. He’d been walking for hours and there was still no sign of adventure or bold deeds to be done, just the empty road unwinding beneath the summer sky. He began to wonder if it would be as easy as he’d thought to become a hero.

      Soon he decided it was time to stop for lunch. He sat down in the shade of a tree growing on the grassy verge of the road and pulled bread and cheese from his haversack. As he ate, he looked around him, searching for any hint of adventure. But the road was as empty as ever, and on either side was nothing but fields and woods, and, very far off, misty blue-and-purple hills. All day he had seen nothing but a farm or two, and some lazily grazing cows who watched him without interest as he passed. He had not passed even one other soul on the road.

      But just then, in the distance, he heard a faint sound moving toward him - the clop of hooves and the rattle of cart-wheels. A cloud of dust came into view on the far side of the hill, moving towards him, coming from the direction he was headed.

       "At last, a fellow traveler!" Grickle thought. But for some reason there was a faint feeling of nervousness at the back of his mind... Nevertheless, he stood up and dusted himself off, preparing to greet the traveler, whoever it might be.

       In a moment the cloud of dust had topped the rise, and a mule and wagon appeared at the top of the hill. The mule was a sullen-looking creature with small, glittering eyes and an unkempt coat; he pulled a very brightly painted and intricately decorated circus wagon. As the wagon drew up alongside Grickle, he saw that the side was boldly emblazoned with the words:

Prof. Witzer

-Worker of Wonders--Magician Extraordinaire-

Contact of the

WORLD BEYOND.

      Sitting on the driver’s seat holding the reins was a squat figure wrapped up in an old, much-too-large cloak which covered him– or her, or it– from head to foot, leaving only its eyes showing. These it turned toward Grickle, gave a rather unsettling wink, then turned away and appeared to go to sleep.

     Grickle had no time to consider the driver further, however, for at that moment a little door in the back of the wagon was flung open and a hand reached out from the gloom within, beckoning to him

    Hesitantly, Grickle took a step nearer.

    "Come, come, come! Do not vaste my time, ples!" said an impatient voice, with a rather peculiar accent.

    Grickle went a little closer.

    "Come inzide the vagon," insisted the voice, and Grickle couldn’t seem to disobey.

    He paused just inside the doorway. It was so dark inside compared to the brilliant day outside that at first he couldn’t see a thing. But gradually he began to make out a small round table directly in front of him, and then a short, stooped man standing just to the side of the door and regarding him sharply.

     "Now, my boy," said the man, "I am Prof. Witzer. Und who might you be?"

     "Er... I am known as Grickle of Crickley Keep, sir. Um, could I perhaps inquire as to why you asked me in?"

     "Very zimple, dear boy. I invited you in because I could zee zat you are a most ex-tro-orrrdinary young man!" The way the Professor pronounced "extraordinary" was rather unusual - he drew it out very long, and put a sort of snarl in the middle.

     "I - I am?"

     "Yes!" exclaimed the Professor. "You look like a young fellow bound for great things!"

     "Oh, ah, well - in fact, I am, as it happens, on my way to becoming a hero," Grickle said, looking modestly at the floor.

     "Ach, I could see zat chust by looking at you. Rrremarkable!" Professor Witzer shook his head admiringly. "Zo, I said to myzelf as soon as I saw you, Ach, Vitzer! You must have zat boy in here! You must have a glimpse of what his future holds in store."

     "You did?"

     "I dit indeet! Und so, my boy, why don’t you come sit down at my table over here? Und I vill have a look at your future in my crystal ball, yes? I shall see what sort of glory lies ahead for you - slaying dragons and whatnot, eh? Ach, yes, und perhaps even the hand of a beautiful princess!" Professor Witzer rubbed his hands together briskly. "Und all for ze very smallest uff fees, I assure you. Shall we say two silver coins? In advance, of course!"

     Grickle was dazzled. He took out his little bag of coins and gave the professor two, then sat down at the table. Prof Witzer sat down opposite him and drew a large crystal ball out of some hidden pocket of his coat. He placed it on the table and wrapped his long thin fingers around it, gazing deeply into its sparkling heart.
    He sat very still for some time. Grickle held his breath. At last, the professor spoke.
    “I zee... I zee... you... dressed in glorious clothes - er - surrounded by cheering crowds... ahh, you are beloved by all...und... you are a great hero! Und zat is all! It has gone dark! Bye-bye now, dear boy! Sank you for coming! Bye-bye! Bye-bye!”
    Prof Witzer leapt to his feet, herded Grickle to the door, and waved madly as Grickle stumbled down the steps.
    “But - but - is that all? I mean, can’t you tell me something a little more specific, perhaps? If it isn’t too much trouble?”
    Prof Witzer shook his head scoldingly. “Ach, my dear boy, it does no man any good to know too much of hees future! But, if you insist...let me zink– well, I expect you shall be quite rich und vamous. Now, bye-bye! Drive on, Vickers, drive on!” Prof Witzer snapped his fingers at the driver, who jerked awake and slapped the reins across the mule’s back. The professor waved once more to Grickle and slammed the door as the wagon, creaking miserably, moved slowly away.
    Grickle stood bewildered in the road, watching the wagon move out of sight. “Well,” he muttered, “I’ve never had my fortune told before, so I don’t really know what it should be like...but it seemed as if he was just making all that up!” He sighed, and with a shrug continued on his way.

      Grickle walked for nearly a week before he came to a town. All those days, he had seen few people on the road, and hadn’t seen any towns or villages at all. But now he found himself looking down at a large, busy town, and in the distance a bustling seaport. Grickle recognized the place from travelers’ tales he’d heard in Crickley Keep, and knew he’d found his way to Huxley-on-the-Bay, the biggest settlement in the kingdom.
    The smell of fresh bread floated to meet him on the crisp early-morning air, and he traced it to a little nearby bakery.
    “Mmm! Fresh bread after days of stale - delicious,” thought Grickle, and reached for his knapsack. He dug down to the bottom, searching for his little coin purse - but it was nowhere to be found. He looked again, then emptied everything out right there in the road and felt around every last corner of the pack. But it wasn’t there.
    Grickle’s knees felt rather wobbly, so he sat down in the middle of his belongings and stared dumbly at the ground.
    Could I have lost it? How did I manage to lose it, since it’s been in my pack all the time? Grickle racked his brain, trying to think when he’d last seen it – when suddenly it hit him.
    “Professor Witzer!” he exclaimed aloud. That was the last time he’d seen the pouch. He remembered how Prof Witzer had hustled him to the door after he’d paid. He must have slipped his hand into my pack then, Grickle thought. That swindler!

Grickle wanted to turn around right then and go after the professor, but he knew he’d never find him - and even if he did, he couldn’t prove anything, so he’d never manage to get his coins back. No, the only thing to do was go on. He couldn’t face going back to Crickley Keep and admitting he’d been hood-winked by the first person he’d met. But how could he go on with no money at all?
    At that moment someone came out of the bakery, tripped over Grickle, and nearly fell headlong on the dusty cobbles.
    “Eh? What’s all this rubbish doing in the road? Don’t ye know better than to block the street, m’lad? I nearly landed flat on me hind-most, boy!”
    A large hand seized Grickle by the back of his jacket and held him up in the air with his feet dangling six inches off the ground. A huge, broad-shouldered man regarded Grickle from one squinty, bright-green eye. His other eye was covered by a patch, and he wore a three-cornered captain’s hat. He was dressed in clothes much faded and frayed, but his fingers glittered with rings, and his jacket had two rows of sparkling gold buttons down the front.

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