“That one was always kept under lock and key in the palace library!” exclaimed Alfred. “I was never allowed to look at it!”
“For good reason,” purred the Lord Protector. “This is the most ancient book in the world. Handwritten and illustrated by holy men centuries ago. This is the only one in existence. The only one ever made. It tells the story of the creation of Albion.”
“Albion! The ancient word for Great Britain.”
“Your history is not too shabby either, child. It begins with the story of the first-ever ruler of this island. Long before King Alfred. Long before official records began. Back then a beast was terrorising the people of Albion.”
The Lord Protector showed the prince some of the ancient illustrations of the story. They were hand-painted and looked like the stained-glass windows you see in churches. In the pictures, there was a huge fiery beast with the head and wings of an eagle and the body and tail of a lion.
“A griffin!” exclaimed Alfred.
“The very same. One brave man stepped forward, and in a fearsome battle he slew the beast with this very sword.”
The Lord Protector indicated the ornate sword that one of the royal guards was holding. It was the same sword with the jewelled handle he’d used to cut the palms of the King’s hands and draw his blood.
The pictures in The Book of Albion showed the sword in the man’s hand.
“Legend has it,” continued the Lord Protector, “that once he had slain the beast, he drank its blood. Blue blood.”
Indeed, in the book the griffin’s blood was painted blue.
“The people of Albion fell to their knees. They believed this man now had the power of the beast. The power of life and death over all of them. Divine power – the power of a god.”
“So that’s why you need royal blood?” guessed Alfred, trying to piece together the parts of the Lord Protector’s plan. “If the first-ever king of Albion, or Britain as it became known, had some of the griffin’s blood mixed with his, then all of those in the royal line have a trace of the beast’s blood within us.”
“Exactly!” exclaimed the Lord Protector.
“That is why you needed my father’s blood to bring this beast back to life.”
“Yes, and why – now he has none left – I need yours.”
This sent a chill down the boy’s spine.
“Your evil mother, Nanny, tried to take it from me, but she failed!”
“Where is she?” asked the Lord Protector.
“Dead.”
The Lord Protector paused for a moment. “She made the ultimate sacrifice for me, her son. Thank you, Mother.”
Alfred shook his head. What a wicked pair. “Why is the book so important in all this?”
“The Book of Albion has many clues as to how this terrifying beast might one day rise again. Through the dark arts. Chants and prayers, and ancient maps. And royal blood dripping on a statue of the beast to bring it to life.”
The Lord Protector flicked through the pages of the book, which showed scenes of the griffin’s resurrection.
Alfred gulped…
GULP!
…and looked around the huge palace ballroom. There wasn’t just the griffin. The other nine of the King’s Beasts were placed around the map too.
“But why have you got all the statues up from the vault?” he asked.
“Because I have gone one further than The Book of Albion. If I can bring the griffin back to life, why can’t I bring all the King’s Beasts to life too? With them at my side, I, and I alone, will rule this kingdom, and every other kingdom of the world, FOREVER! I will be the King of Kings for all eternity!”
His eyes lit up with demonic glee.
“You’re nuts!” was Alfred’s not unreasonable response.
“Madness and genius are often intertwined,” said the man.
The Lord Protector turned to the guards. “Hold out the prince’s hand.”
Alfred struggled and struggled, and struggled some more, but it was impossible to escape their clutches. Next, the Lord Protector was handed the ancient sword. A sword that had belonged to that very first king of Albion. He held it high above his head before slicing open the palm of the boy’s hand.
“ARGH!”
screamed Alfred. Next, the evil man guided the boy closer to the statue of the griffin. His royal blood, which had left a trail on the floor, was now dripping on the eagle head of the statue.
DRIP! DRIP! DRIP!
The guards held the boy’s hand in place, so more and more royal blood would drip. They began to chant, as the Lord Protector read aloud from The Book of Albion.
It was Latin, and
immediately
the statue
began to
hum…