Writing for Fun
August 2024
The Dusty Old Book - Jan Norman
‘I’m bored, BORED, BORED BORED!’ shouted King Aga, sulkily tipping back on his chair and twanging his metal ruler on the table’s edge: twang, twang, TWANG.
Queen Give it ‘ere, irritated beyond measure and trying to stay calm, muttered through clenched teeth, ‘Aga Dear, if you keep tilting back on your chair you will fall backwar…..’
Too late. With an almighty crash Aga landed on his back with legs in the air. Chair broken underneath him.
Concerned the queen rushed to help him up. Testily, but with nothing hurt but his pride, Aga, brushing aside her aid, jumped to his feet muttering ‘I’m fine, I’m fine.’
Trying to save the king’s pride she blurted hastily, ‘Why don’t we go to the library and choose a book to read dearest?’
Aga, just as eager to put aside his childish behaviour declared it was a splendid idea and patting her hand told her what a clever little ‘wifey’ he had.
On the ground floor of the castle keep was the king’s muniments room and library resplendent in ancient oak wood panelling and built in bookshelves. With torches lit in the wall sconces both King and queen set about finding something interesting to read.
Aga, dragging over the ancient library ladder, climbed to reach the topmost and dustiest shelf on the left-hand wall. ‘I’m going to look for a book on history. I like history.’
Working the wall opposite, Queen Give it ‘ere only grunted as she was endeavouring to reach a book of recipes that she had spied on a shelf to her right that was a little beyond her reach. Standing up on the bottom rail of the bookcase she leaned up and over and, losing her balance, grabbed at an embossed rose carved on a shelf upright to steady herself but instead found herself moving. One section of the book case was revolving with her clinging on for dear life. By the time the startled queen started to cry out she was behind the library wall.
Absorbed, Aga reacted slowly to her muffled cry and by the time he looked up, Give it ‘ere was back in view, the panelling having swung back with her still clinging on to it. ‘What’s up old girl he queried?’
‘Help!’ was all that the queen could manage before she revolved out of sight again.
Startled, Aga dropped his book in panic as he threw himself down the library ladder and rushed to her aid. Scrabbling at the now closed face of the bookcase he was knocked over as the section swung open again and queen Give it ‘ere reappeared for the second time. On his feet in a flash, he grabbed his queen round the waist and pulled. Both ended up on the floor locked in a tight embrace. Gervais, the king’s manservant, happening to enter the room at that precise moment, murmured, ‘Oh no, not again.’ and coughed politely.
Catching their breath and pulling each other to their feet they laughed happily. Turning to Gervaise, Aga cried, ‘I think we need to summons those knights of the nearly round table that are at present in the castle. Queen Give it ‘ere had found a secret tunnel!’
When the knights, Sir Goes Berserk a Lot, Sir Prays a Lot and Sir Rust a Lot arrived, they all inspected the opening behind the bookcase and, seeing a tunnel, collected a few items that they thought they might need to overcome any obstacles they may encounter.
Meanwhile, King Aga, feeling guilty at having dropped his book, carefully dusted it down using the fur of his tunic cuff and inspected it for damage. The book was entitled, ‘The Myths and legends of Lost Dragon Treasure.’ written by Baron Von Clap Trap, an historian who had lived a hundred years ago at a time when Dragons and humans were at war. It told of the loss of sacred Dragon relics. Believed to have been discovered by humans and carried away as trophies of war and hidden in the mists of time.
The back of the book was broken but not, to the relief of the king, beyond repair. Then he noticed a parchment tucked into the spine. Pulling it out he carefully unfolded the small scrap of paper and smoothing it out realised it was a short text in Dragonese, the written language of the Dragons with whom they were now friends. Dusty book, wooden rose do a secret place expose Deep within the castle keep sacred dragon eggs do sleep
Aga, being well educated, translated the prose, then yelled in excitement. ‘This rhyme tells of hidden treasure somewhere in this castle and I think our tunnel points the way.’
Dusty book, wooden rose do a secret place expose Deep within the castle keep sacred dragon eggs do sleep
When ready, Aga, flaming torch aloft, followed by his knights with the queen bringing up the rear ventured into the tunnel. With hearts beating a little faster, the single file of adventurers trekked onwards. The narrow tunnel narrowed some more and ahead Aga saw a fork: left or right? In the dim torchlight Aga made out a carved rose above the left opening. Instinct made him follow that path. A few more steps and the floor wobbled and tilted. Losing his footing Aga slid onto his back and found himself shooting forward and downwards as if on a helter-skelter. The others, losing the torchlight as Aga disappeared, followed in rapid succession. Screaming and yelling in fear all landed one after the other on top of poor old Aga. More fumbling in the dark until Sir Rust a Lot managed to find and relight the torch. Thankfully all were unhurt, apart from Sir Goes Berserk a Lot, who bemoaned the fact that he had a huge splinter in his bottom from the wooden slide. Queen Give it ‘ere whipped out a pair of tweezers and told Sir Goes Berserk a Lot to lift his kilt. Silencing his protests with, ‘I’ve seen it all before.’ plucked out the offending sliver of wood before he could say any more.
Lighting torches in wall sconces in the small room in which they had landed showed two more tunnels exiting to the right and three small stone seats carved in the wall to the left.
‘Which way do we go now folks?’ inquired a tired, battered Aga. It’s obvious now that the tunnel system is booby trapped. We can’t go back but we know not the way forwards.
‘Sire all is not lost. Look at my cloak. Sir Prays a Lot’s famous white, knitted cloak was indeed only half the size and a thread disappeared from it up the slide. We can go back or explore a little more all the while I have more threads to unravel. My knitted cloak must have snagged on something before we entered the slide but I must rest for a while and so saying Sir Pray a Lot slumped down on the nearest stone throne. There was a loud grinding noise and the throne flipped over and he was gone.
They all looked at each other in horror. Queen Give it ‘ere slumped onto the floor and burst into tears. What terror was coming next?
Suddenly in the deadly silence they heard footsteps: slow measured footsteps coming from the tunnel on the right. In unspoken agreement Aga and his brave knights drew swords and surrounded their beloved queen ready to defend her to the end.
A ghostly figure slowly emerged, dusty, dirty and bedraggled. A heavy breasted creature in a white woolly top slowly unravelling . . .
Hours later having clawed their way back from deep underground they stumbled into the library. Sending Gervaise for refreshments, Sir Pray a Lot opened his diminished cloak and from two large internal breast pockets removed two jewel encrusted gold eggs. By chance the way to the hiding place of the hidden treasure had been the throne he had picked to sit on. The only way out of the chamber had been stairs hewn out or the rock leading to the passage they had seen him emerge from.
Days later the President of Dragonia was invited to a glittering event hosted by King Aga to give back in friendship, the long lost sacred Golden Eggs of their illustrious forefathers and Lady Sir Prays a Lot received from the king, in gratitude for knitting her husband such a useful cloak, a lifelong supply of wool.