The Beast of Buckingham Palace

Despite not having eaten any of his eggy-wegg, Alfred felt more full of life than ever. As soon as Nanny had locked his door, he leaped out of bed. Instantly he began his detective work. He made a big pile on the floor of all his ancient history books. The prince was looking for clues about the markings that had been chalked on the floor of the ballroom.

However much he searched and searched these books, and many others, he couldn’t crack the code of what he’d seen on the ballroom floor. The boy needed to take another look, and this time copy down what he saw for reference. Alfred opened the stationery drawer of his antique desk and grabbed a little notepad and a pencil. He stuffed them into his pyjama pocket for safekeeping.

The sound of the siren that rang throughout Buckingham Palace for the beginning of that night’s curfew couldn’t come soon enough.

WEEOOOEEE!

This was the time when all those inside the palace had to be safely in their rooms in case of an attack from outside.

Alfred blew out his candle and shuffled over to the window on his knees. The searchlights that scoured the walls of the palace, looking for intruders, passed by his window much more regularly than normal. It was almost as if the royal guards were waiting for him. Alfred didn’t dare risk it. The problem was that the only other way out was the door, but that was locked from the outside.

If he were going to carry on his detective work, he’d have to think fast.

Hearing the wind whistle through the fireplace…

WHOOSH!

…Alfred realised this might be the only way out of his bedroom.

So he pulled the grate aside and squeezed his skinny little body up into the flue. It was dark and sooty in there, but because the flue had been made of bricks he could use them to climb up like the rungs of a ladder. As his bedroom was on the top floor, it was only a short climb to the roof of Buckingham Palace. When he reached the top, he disturbed some pigeons that were nesting there.

SQUAWK! SQUAWK! SQUAWK!

This alerted the royal guards who were keeping watch over London from the roof.

Alfred kept himself hidden inside the chimney as one of the fearsome royal guards left his station to take a closer look. When the last pigeon flew out of the chimney top…

SQUAWK! SQUAWK! SQUAWK!

…the guard returned to his post.

Slowly and silently, the boy climbed out of the top of the chimney. For the first time in his life, he was standing on the roof of Buckingham Palace. As dark clouds swirled above him, he looked out across London. Now he had a 360-degree view of the city. A city that he’d studied in books, one that had the most famous skyline in the world.

Now it was all in ruins.

Alfred thought of what Mite had told him, of the poor people down there, scurrying around in the dark, with little food, and no clean water, surviving from day to day. They were people too, but they had been reduced to living like animals. Only because he’d been born a prince was he here in the palace, and they were down there. No wonder there was talk of revolution. Alfred was beginning to think that maybe the revolutionaries weren’t the baddies after all. He was determined to do something to help the people of Britain. This was not how the country should be.

Then Alfred heard the sound of something flapping in the wind.

FLIP!

FLAP!

FLUP!

Looking up, he saw the flag of the griffin on top of the flagpole. How he wanted to tear that flag down, and hoist up the Union Jack!

One day, he thought. One day.

The Union Jack had been the symbol of the country for hundreds of years. Now it was the flag that bound together the revolutionaries, and as such had been outlawed by the Lord Protector.

The black clouds in the sky above Buckingham Palace parted, and a huge airship sailed into view. On its side was the same image of the griffin. This airship was used by the Lord Protector to control the people outside the palace. Right on cue, the projector on the roof of the palace flickered into life. It beamed a shaft of light on to the envelope at the top of the airship, the part that contained all the gas. The envelope was like a cinema screen. An image of a golden griffin appeared, then it faded and was replaced by the face of the Lord Protector.

“People of Britain,” he began, “I, your Lord Protector, have an important announcement.”

Alfred watched from his hiding place behind the chimney stack.

“The revolutionaries struck again last night. St Paul’s Cathedral, a sacred place of worship, was destroyed. This is a new low from a secret organisation that has brought only death and destruction to this land. Sadly, this now calls for extreme measures. After consultation with the King, there is a new law against traitors. Anyone found out on the streets after eight pm will be considered a revolutionary. As such, members of the King’s army or the royal guards will shoot on sight.”

Alfred shuddered. This was even more dangerous than he’d thought. He looked across the roofs of London towards Big Ben. The clock on the tower was about to strike eight.

“I wish you goodnight,” ended the Lord Protector as his face flickered to black, and the airship disappeared back up into the clouds.

BONG!

Eight o’clock. Alfred gulped.

GULP!

Might the royal guards shoot him on sight too?

Alfred scuttled across the palace roof. He found a small hatch, which he carefully opened and clambered through. Next, he dangled by his arms for a moment, before dropping down on to the carpet below.

THUD!

Now he was back inside the palace, and tonight’s adventure could begin…