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“One more thing, the crowd might be . . . hostile,” Vlad said to William, while they were waiting for the guard. “So stick together, okay?”
The guard opened the door and Vlad stepped out of the cell.
William followed. The crowd probably wanted to cash him in and collect fifteen thousand gold coins as a “thank-you gift” for delivering a suspected giant-killer. He couldn’t speak.
Without speaking, they climbed up the dungeon stairs. As they came out onto the sopping wet green, the rain stopped. The Magenta green was packed. The dripping crowd was a tough one. They must have been standing out here in the cold March rain. The guards saluted Vlad, but ignored William, who suddenly sprouted a Magenta archer on each side.
Was he so dangerous? Shaking his head, he focused on Reggie who lay stretched out on the wet grass under the Magenta royal pavilion. His leather boots had darkened; they must be soaked. William had been right about the time—the sky that peeked out between the clouds was deepening to navy blue. “Hang in there,” William whispered, half to Reggie and half to the harp under his jacket.
A crowd of medical people in white coats, RAA students and professors in uniform, surrounded the giant. Everyone had come to see Reggie, even in this weather. It warmed William’s heart.
Until he stepped out onto the green, and the crowd booed. Startled, he stepped back and the Magenta archers moved back with him.
“They’re upset about Reggie,” Vlad said in a quiet voice.
“So am I.” William squared his shoulders, and kept walking through the squelching grass. He hadn’t expected such a huge crowd or that he would be recognized, on sight, as the prisoner.
But he had a Magenta archer at each elbow and the Crown Prince of the Magenta Kingdom was walking ahead of him. Who else could he be?
The booing grew louder. The archers forced a path through the crowd, calling out, “Make way for Prince Vlad!” but it was clear no one was moving out of the way for William.
On all sides, people gave him a giant thumbs-down, and only paused their booing for split-second breaths before starting up again. By the time William and Vlad got to Mr. G’s knee, the booing had grown from indistinct murmuring to loud jeers.
“Whad’ya know, it’s ‘Jack the Giant Killer’!”
“Don’t let him finish the job!”
“Keep Mr. G safe!”
The crowd’s jeers brought back the giants’ jokes about “Jack”, and William took a tight grip on the harp and his rapidly-dissolving confidence.
Right. How do I tell a harp that my name isn’t Jack when this crowd is calling me that?
He would tell the crowd. Drawing himself up to his full height, he belted out, “I am William of Marigold. ‘Jack’ was my artist name, to draw comics, but I’m not doing that any more.” The last one he’d made for the Fairy Kingdom, but he was done now. Something died inside of him when he said it.
“Sure, sure. Not doing it any more.”
“That’s what they all say!”
“I can prove I’m not Jack,” William said, “because this harp won’t play for Jack.”
A sea of whispers spread out from him like waves, harp, harp, harp, Jack, Jack, Jack, comic, comic, comic, soup, soup, soup. But the nearest people kept jeering. If the harp didn’t play for him, this crowd was going to chase him out of the Seven Kingdoms.
“We know who you are!”
“Don’t let him through!”
“Gonna cook up more trouble?”
“Our Mr. Giant wasn’t good enough for you?”
“Had to get some giants from somewhere else?”
“No giant invaders! No giant invaders!” the crowd roared, chanting all together.
William’s face burned, but he wasn’t here to defend himself or the giants, who were hopefully out of the Fairy Kingdom and half-way to the Giant Mountains by now.
“Vlad,” he called out, “we’re running out of time here.”
Vlad nodded and said something to his archers.
“Make way for Prince Vlad!” the archers shouted and pushed the crowd to the sides.
William set his jaw and followed in Vlad’s wake as they passed Reggie’s ankle, knee, stomach, and elbow. William’s mind played with the idea of a Royal Marigold Restaurant in the Giant Mountains. His family needed a way to survive once they were all thrown out of the Seven Kingdoms.
“Why’s he got a harp?” someone called out, reminding William that the giants weren’t speaking to him because of the harp.
Right. Forget the restaurant in the Giant Mountains.
“Where’s the hen that lays golden eggs?”
“That’s what I want!”
A mob of medical people had gathered at Mr. G’s ear. They were huddled under the pavilion. Vlad told William, “I’ll wait for you here, at the bottom of the ladder. You’re going to have to move fast . . . ”
William stuck his dripping wet hand out to shake Vlad’s, then pulled it back, afraid that Judge Vlad shouldn’t be shaking hands with a prisoner.
“Sorry, sorry,” William said, not looking at Vlad. “Here goes!”
Still flanked by the Magenta archers, William charged forward through the drizzle to the slippery ladder, and started climbing. One arm for the ladder and one for the harp. The archers stayed at the bottom which suited William down to the ground. A waterfall from the recent rain poured down over the edge of the pavilion onto the lower part of the ladder. William pushed ducked through it and kept climbing. Now he was close enough to Mr. G that they were both underneath the pavilion.
By the time he reached the top, and Mr. G’s chest, he was shivering in the wind. Two white-coated people grabbed William’s arms.
“Stop right there, sir.”
“Very well.” With no other choice, William shook the wet hair out of his eyes, let go of the ladder, held the harp over his head with both hands, and shouted the words Reggie’s grandma had told him to say: “Brynhildr commands you to play for William!”
Green tendrils unwound from the harp’s frame and plucked at the strings like fingers. In the harp’s music, the sounds of William’s home played one after the other, making pictures in his head: onions sizzled and spices popped in hot oil, Jens, Cordelia, and Bea’s everyday voices formed chords, the king and the queen added grace notes and the staccato rhythm of chopping, and the music re-formed in new chords so vivid that every room of the Marigold Castle appeared in front of William’s eyes.
Then the song changed, taking him outside the castle to the Elf Brook bubbling over speckled stones, poplar leaves waving rustle-y greetings in the Marigold royal forest, and the song of the normally silent clouds as they scudded across a sapphire blue sky.
In the next verse, the harp called up the bright moon and hushed the white mist that always nestled down onto the Mosel River.
Just when William was wondering how a lullaby could wake Mr. G up, the music grew livelier and painted a pink and gold morning full of birdsong and barges and the smell of toasted chapati.
All too soon, the music stopped and the tendrils became part of the frame again. Still and silent, the harp was finished. William let out a deep sigh. The song was like something he’d heard all his life, but never gotten tired of.
All around him, the medical people sighed and murmured names of people and places and foods they loved, most of which William had never heard of. That meant they couldn’t have heard the sounds of his home, in the Marigold Kingdom. They must have heard the sounds of their own homes, wherever those were.
William wondered what Reggie’s home in the Giant Mountains was like. Reggie was so far from his home. Music from home had to wake him up.
In the last light of the gloaming, William stared at Mr. G’s head. If this didn’t work, Reggie was history. But the giant didn’t move.
“Wake up, wake up, wake up—” William murmured, his whole attention focused on Reggie. He ignored the two medical people who still gripped his elbows. Their dreamy smiles had vanished.
“Sir, you need to leave the area.” A white-coated woman with a name tag that read “Dr. Illyria, Tropical Medicine” had come up the ladder behind him. She pulled William firmly down the ladder, away from Mr. G. Other white-coated people grabbed William and pulled too. Someone grabbed at the harp.
“Not the harp,” William gasped. He’d promised to return it, even though it hadn’t worked. “Shouldn’t you people be looking after your patient?”
“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” an orderly said. “Removing the disturbance.”
Eventually, the medical people recognized Prince Vlad—who’d somehow fought his way through the medical people with politeness—and stopped trying to pull William in different directions.
“Can you see if anything has changed? If his eyes are open, anything?” William asked Vlad.
“I’ll try.” Vlad threaded his way through—with verve and creative footwork—to the medical team closest Mr. G’s head, William in tow. When the last four medical people wouldn’t let them through, Vlad pulled rank.
“I’m Crown Prince Vlad,” Vlad said, looking each of the taller doctors in turn in the eyes. “I need to climb up that ladder, see Mr. G’s progress personally, and report back to King Pink.”
Eventually, they let Vlad climb up, but William had to stay on the ground, in suspense. Vlad disappeared from William’s view. A few moments later, Vlad called out, “They’re open! His eyes are open!”
“He’s awake!” William shouted, jumping up and down. “He’s not gonna die!”
The medical people clapped and the crowd cheered.
Suddenly, Mr. G’s chest rose and fell in a deep sigh that ended in a faint question, “Grandma?”
In the same moment, Vlad’s ladder slid sideways.
“Hang on!” William stuffed the harp under his jacket and grabbed the base of the ladder, straining to keep it in place against Mr. G’s head. “Mr. G? Can you hold still a moment please?”
Mr. G stilled and his voice was a low, rumbly breath. “What’s going on William? Is this for a new comic?”
Eyes bored into William’s back. “Are you thirsty?” he asked Reggie. “Or hungry?”
A horrified gasp came from the crowd. William gritted his teeth. They’d all decided who he was and that he was up to no good. Didn’t it count for anything that he’d brought the cure?
Vlad’s voice rose above the murmurs nearest Mr. G’s head. “Let’s clear the area around here please, so Mr. G can move his head freely.”
A weak rumble came from Mr. G’s chest.
“So good to hear your voice,” William said as he passed by the giant’s ear. “I’ve been worried about you.”
“You boys need to get out of the way now—” The medical people let Vlad off the ladder and pushed both princes to the side. Now that the kids had fixed everything, the adults were taking over again.
But William beamed at them all. Reggie wasn’t going to die. The harp had worked and William could climb up the beanstalk and give it back, along with the news that Reggie had been sick, but was okay. Reggie’s grandma would be thrilled. William couldn’t wait to tell his family.
Two Royal Aeronautical Academy students ran up and lifted the ladder away from Mr. G and marched away, out of step, and the ladder didn’t swing at all. Everyone backed away from the giant.
“We need help with this pavilion, please!” Dr. Illyria shouted.
More students ran up and removed the heavy, wet pavilion in record time. When it was done, an orderly shouted, “Clear!”
Slowly, Mr. G turned his head towards them. “What a crowd,” he croaked.
“He needs water,” William shouted, but a team of medical people were already offering Mr. G a piece of pipe in a bucket of water. He sucked up some water, but the pipe leaked, and sprayed the crowd with a fine spray of water. The medical team advanced with their instruments.
“What am I doing here?” Slowly, Mr. G raised his hand from the ground and the team stopped where they were.
“Sir, can you put your hand down—nice and easy now?” an orderly called out.
Someone clapped William on the shoulder. He turned to see Vlad who pounded him on the shoulder.
“Nice work!”
A squadron of Royal Aeronautical Academy gliders flew overhead. William shaded his eyes. “Where are they all going?”
“The rain made them late today. Must be practicing for the Mock Battle exercise tomorrow.” Vlad’s head tipped back and his gaze also followed the gliders. “The RAA gliders are competing with all the Crown Princes and the Crown Princess. You know, the gliders drop balloons in royal colors and each kingdom’s archers try to pop as many as possible. The kingdom with the most points wins,” Vlad sketched out the whole thing as if he and William were about to play a board game.
“Without the Marigolds?” William asked. As Crown Prince, he should have been leading the Marigold archers to victory.
“Uh, yeah,” Vlad said, apologetically. “You weren’t . . . available.”
You mean I was disqualified. William swallowed his disappointment at being left out. Sometimes things didn’t work, but that didn’t mean it was personal. The timing was odd though.
“What made them decide to do this now?” he asked.
“Oh, Queen Ash is leading a charge to chop down an illegal beanstalk tomorrow,” Vlad said, as if he were ordering an extra helping of chapati at the restaurant.