Wilf drags Victor from slimy water.
Valentine’s in love with Grabbo’s daughter.
Igon was once again up the tree, looking towards the village. He came down, only this time Valentine was on the ground waiting for him.
‘Well?’ Valentine asked.
‘There seem to be less torches than before but I thought I saw a few making this way.’ Igon looked worried.
Valentine was looking worried too as he said, ‘Somehow we’ve got to get help, but that might be difficult in the village. If they think I’m a Vampire they might not want to help me and if we go further into the forest we could become hopelessly lost and maybe even die or be killed by wild animals.’
He looked at Igon who blinked his one eye and wiped his other one on his sleeve.
‘What do you think, Sire, if we stayed here until things have settled down. Maybe, then, I could go into the village and tell them the truth about you and get help.’
‘If we stay here that’s as bad as going into the forest,’ said Valentine. ‘The guards or the villagers would capture us for sure. The King is a very powerful Vampire and he knows every trick in the book. Why, within two nights we would be back inside the castle, me locked in my room and you …’
‘… given to Vernon,’ Igon finished the sentence. He continued, ‘I think the village is the best hope. Someone might take pity on us and help us escape and get out of the country. We could start a new life. Well at least you could. Wouldn’t that be good, Sire?’
‘We may be caught in a trap or given back to the King. Or, as you say, we may find someone to help us start a new life. I honestly don’t know.’
Valentine sat on a log and tried hard to think clearly for a few minutes. Igon sat thinking with him but what he was thinking about nobody knows.
‘Right!’ Valentine jumped up. ‘We’ll go back to the village and see if we can find shelter for a while. Then we will leave late one night and get away from here as far as possible. So …’ he looked at Igon, ‘my old chum. Let’s go and see what the future holds for us, my little friend, shall we?’
‘Yes. Let’s do that.’ Igon put his hand in that of Valentine’s and whispered, ‘Friend,’ and off they both went to the village.
They hadn’t travelled more than a few hundred yards when they met Grabbo, Doctor Plump and Areta, who, to Valentine, was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire, although admittedly sheltered, life. His eyes lit with pure joy as they looked into hers.
He explained to them what had happened to himself and Igon and looked straight at Areta when he told them that he was not a Vampire. She was so thrilled that Valentine thought he saw tears in her wonderful eyes, but in the light of the torches he couldn’t be sure.
Grabbo offered them shelter for a short while. There was a cellar under his tavern that very few people knew about, so they could stay there. It was only left to get them through the village without being seen or captured.
Valentine thanked him, while Doctor Plump tried to smile and say that he was sure everything would turn out fine, but he couldn’t look Valentine in the eyes, or anyone else for that matter. He was busy working out how he could get a message to the King that he knew where Valentine and Igon were.
The small group made their way back to the village very carefully, not realising that Wilf the Werewolf was following them a few yards behind, and wondering whether to turn them in or help them. When they had almost reached the village, the Doctor made his excuses and said that he had to get back to his surgery as he had one or two things to attend to.
The group wished him well and watched him make his way back to his surgery, or so they thought as he turned the corner and became lost to their sight.
Dr Plump stopped for a moment, but he didn’t see Wilf hiding in a doorway a few yards away. Wilf had decided to follow the Doctor. The Doctor now looked around to make sure he couldn’t be seen by his friends and stealthily made his way to the castle.
* * *
‘Come in,’ the Queen said, looking towards the door.
A rather pale, sad and dishevelled Ronnoco entered the Queen’s chambers. He had been let out of prison on the promise that he wouldn’t be found drunk in the street again. They didn’t believe him when he told the police that he had fainted.
‘Your Majesty, the Doctor is here to see you.’
‘Why? I’m not ill am I? One’s never too sure these days.’
‘He says he has a message about Prince Valentine.’
‘Oh, I see,’ she said, greatly relieved that she wasn’t ill. ‘Well, tell him he must give it to His Majesty the King.’ She put the hairbrush down on the dressing table. It was very difficult for Ronnoco to look at her sitting at her dressing table, combing her hair without the aid of a mirror. He also thought it must be very difficult for her too.
‘I’m afraid, Your Majesty, that the King isn’t in the castle. He’s … er … flying over the village and I won’t be able to tell him,’ Ronnoco said, looking and feeling rather confused.
‘What’s he flying as?’ the Queen snapped.
‘A bat, Marm.’
‘A small one or a big one?’
‘A very big one.’
‘Oh dear, if he’s a very big one, he’s really lost his temper. That means “look out”.’ She turned her back on Ronnoco, dismissing him with a wave of her hair brush. She started to comb her hair once more, looking very intently into the mirror that wasn’t there.
Ronnoco stood where he was for a few seconds, not really knowing what to do. No more conversation came his way so he quietly left the room.
The Queen stopped combing her hair and looked at where the mirror should have been and gave a satisfied smile that seemed to say she liked what she couldn’t see. She patted her hair and gently shook her head, letting her hair fall into its natural style.
She rose from her dressing table and walked sedately over to the window and looked out. In the distance she saw a large, very large, bat flying over the village. She cupped her hands together, took an enormous breath and with a tremendous effort that almost made her dizzy, shouted:
‘Victorrrrr!’
She watched the shadow stop in mid-flight and she knew then that he had heard. She continued her shouting.
‘Coome innn attt onceee, there’sss someeeonee heree toooo seee youuuu,’ and with that she shut the window and watched the shadow make its way back from the village.
‘Good Dracula, he’s overdoing the bat tonight,’ she thought. Once more she sat at her dressing table and with great difficulty put on a fresh lipstick.
A tremendous fluttering broke her concentration. She looked towards the window, her lips still puckered from putting on the lipstick, and saw Victor trying to get in. Unfortunately, he was too large to get in through the window. She ran to the window and opened it as wide as she could.
‘Oh, dear,’ she said with more than a touch of annoyance in her voice. ‘What are you doing? Why aren’t you here when you’re wanted, and what are you doing scaring the whole village to death? Why have you made yourself into such a big bat? You look quite ridiculous. Really Victor, it’s too much. People will think you’re quite mad. You know that, don’t you? They’ll think you’re quite mad. It will take hours to get down to a reasonable size. Anyway, the Doctor … Victor! Are you listening?’
Victor was trying his best to listen and his hardest to keep in the air.
‘The Doctor wants to see you. He has a message for you about Valentine.’ She went back into her room.
Victor was losing his strength, trying to keep his enormous wings going. He was fighting a losing battle. Slowly but surely he was sinking to the ground with his wings flapping hard enough to cause a small gale. Eventually he had to give in and he fell the last twenty feet with a splash into the moat below.
He floated on top of the green, slimy water looking like a large broken kite. His small, weak cries for help were heard by Queen Valeeta who looked out of the window down to the moat and in a loud and unladylike voice shouted down to her unfortunate husband:
‘It serves you right, you silly old fool!’ She then closed the window and bolted it.
Wilf, who was standing behind a tree, watched Victor and heard Valeeta. He shouted across the water, ‘Victor … Hey, Victor. Come on old lad; come on over to this side of the moat. I’ll get you out.’
Victor did his best. His little bat legs were doing the bat crawl for all they were worth.
‘That’s it, Vic old pal. Keep going. You’ll make it.’
Victor got to about three feet from the bank where Wilf was now standing, but the poor Vampire was almost exhausted.
‘Come on, son. Just a bit more,’ Wilf shouted and jumped up and down.
Victor gave one final effort to reach the bank for the last time.
‘Come on, Vicky boy. Let’s be having you,’ Wilf encouraged, and then quickly grabbed the tip of Victor’s wing before he went down for the third time, and slowly dragged him to the safety of the bank. As Victor lay there, doing his utmost to breathe, Wilf tried to clean off the slime that was covering poor King Victor.
‘By golly, Vic, you’re big. I’ve never seen a bat as big as you before. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen anything as big as you before. How come you’re so big?’
Wilf realised that Victor, being a bat and a very tired one at that, couldn’t speak, so he patted him on his head saying, ‘I’ll stay with you till you get back to normal.’
Victor belched as a two pound carp looked out of his mouth. Wilf, being a kindly werewolf, gently took it out of the bat’s mouth and put it back into the moat and watched it dive in the slimy, but safe, water.
* * *
Valentine and Igon were now ensconced in the safety of Grabbo’s cellar below the tavern, eating food provided by Grabbo and served by Areta, with whom Valentine had fallen madly, head-over-heels in love.
Igon was eating the food as if tomorrow was going to be a fast. Grabbo stood alone in a corner of the cellar and watched both Valentine and Igon until they had finished eating. A bottle of wine had been produced and as the two men drank, Grabbo spoke.
‘Well, Sir,’ he addressed Valentine. ‘What do you have in mind?’
‘In mind, Sir?’ asked Valentine. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, what I mean is, what are you going to do? Are you really going to leave the country, providing you can get help, or are you going to stay and help us?’
‘Help who?’ Valentine finished his drink.
‘Us. The people of the village; the country as a whole.’ Grabbo moved towards him.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t quite understand.’ Valentine looked at Grabbo.
‘We need someone like you. Someone who understands. Someone who has had an education; had an upbringing. Someone who can deal with people and problems, and, most of all, someone who is young and eager.’ Grabbo put another box next to Valentine and sat down.
He carried on. ‘You see, Sir. If I can be honest with you …’ Valentine nodded. ‘We, that is the village, even the country as a whole, is how can I say fed up? Being ruled by Vampires.’ Grabbo’s face was pale and nervous, his eyes darting around the room but always coming back to Valentine. ‘We want someone to be our first … our first … er … president.’ He rose quickly and walked away from Valentine and carried on speaking.
‘What we want we being the people is someone to lead us forward into the future. Someone clever enough to get the best out of the people and help them. Someone we can trust but who can also be firm if needs be, and will treat us kindly too.’ Grabbo came back and sat on the box next to Valentine again as Igon hiccupped.
‘You see, Sir. What I’m trying to say is that if you were to be our president, I know the rest of the people would follow you. I’m sorry if I’m not putting the proper words together but could you think about it?’ Here he trailed off and looked at Valentine.
There was a silence, broken only by the sound of Igon scratching his head.
‘Do you understand what I’m asking, Sir?’
Valentine gently put the wine glass down, wiped his mouth on a handkerchief and said, ‘Yes, I think I do, Grabbo. What you’re saying is that you – not necessarily the people, but at the moment you – want me to lead you forward into the future, while at the same time getting the best out of the people. Also, I should imagine, that you will want me to get rid of the Vampires, who educated me, brought me up, looked after, and in their way loved me. Am I right, Grabbo?’ Valentine smiled at him, then quickly looked at Areta and smiled at her too.
Igon belched as Grabbo said, ‘I think so, Sir. I’m not too sure, but I think so, Sir. But you know what will happen to you if you are caught by King Victor, don’t you? You will be killed. I will be killed. Areta will be killed …’
‘I will be, I know that,’ Igon sighed, ‘or given to Vernon.’
‘I don’t think King Victor would kill me but maybe you are right about yourself and Igon, although I will say this – that in no way would I let them harm one hair of Areta’s head.’ Valentine stood up and held Areta’s hand in his.
Grabbo looked pleased. Almost as pleased as Areta herself.
‘Let me think about it, Grabbo. Give me a few days to think it over.’
‘A few … Sir, there isn’t a few days left. You must make your decision now. I could get a message to the people very quickly. They are not happy at the moment and they are going to turn ugly.’
‘I always have been,’ Igon said quietly. Areta patted Igon on the cheek.
Valentine quickly finished his glass of wine and walked around the room. By the expression on his face you could see he was thinking very deeply but his biggest worry was how to get Victor and his family out of the castle without hurting them. After all, they were the only parents he had known and they had really been very kind to him, especially the Queen who, up till twenty-four hours ago, as far as he was concerned was his Mother.
‘Grabbo?’
‘Sir?’
‘If, and I repeat, if, I decided to become president and the people accept me, of course, I must make one condition. No harm must come to the Vampires – not even Vernon.’
‘Pity,’ Igon mumbled.
‘The people won’t like that, Sir. They will want to kill the Vampires.’
‘You can’t kill a Vampire, you know that.’
‘You can with a stake.’
‘Oh yes,’ Igon interjected. ‘You can kill a Vampire with a stake, or a lamb chop if you put enough poison on it.’ He laughed.
‘You can’t kill a Vampire with poison, Igon. You, of all people, should know that. Within a few years he will come back to life again. Time means nothing to a Vampire.’ Valentine spoke firmly to Igon who looked a little ashamed.
Valentine went on. ‘I will not allow any harm to come to them.’
Grabbo thought for a moment. ‘I shall have to put it to the people and see what they say. I shall do my best but I don’t think they will be very happy. Already they are shouting for blood. I know what they are thinking. Tomorrow when it’s light they will go to the castle and while the Vampires are asleep in their beds …’
‘Coffins,’ Igon corrected.
‘Pardon?’
‘Coffins. Vampires sleep in coffins,’ Igon said with authority.
‘Oh. In their coffins. They will put stakes in their hearts and kill them. Of that there is no argument.’
Grabbo looked nervous. Valentine looked perturbed. Igon looked silly. Areta looked beautiful.
‘As I have already said, Grabbo, if I become this country’s first president I will insist that no harm comes to them. I only ask that I be allowed to talk to them. If anybody can, I must be able to talk to them and maybe show them the errors of their ways.’
Grabbo slowly nodded and put his strong arm around his daughter Areta who lifted her face towards her father and smiled.
‘You must try to explain to the people, Father,’ she said.
‘Very well. I will talk to a few of the elders and see if I can make them understand your arguments and your beliefs. I can’t promise, but the least we can do is try. So, come, my friends, let’s go and meet the people.’
They left the cellar and carefully made their way to the street above, which, now that King Victor had left, was beginning to show signs of life again. People were coming back into the streets, some of whom were carrying sticks that had been shaped into stakes. Grabbo gathered a few people around him and began to speak.
* * *
Wilf had helped Victor back into the castle through the front door. Vernon was in his lab, madly mixing steaming, bubbling vials of different colours and chuckling insanely, his eyes alight with the hope of using them on Igon, or anyone else for that matter, but on Igon first.
The Queen was trying to get Victor into his coffin. He had almost returned to normal. By that, you could see that he wasn’t a bat any more. He was back to his immaculate self, except for his legs which were still the legs of a bat. At the moment he was hanging upside down underneath the table on which his coffin rested. The Queen knelt down and talked to him.
‘Victor, you must try and get your legs back. You look positively foolish with your bat legs. If anyone came in now and saw you, I wouldn’t know where to put myself, I honestly wouldn’t.’
‘I’m concentratink as hard as I can, mine dear, but it vas a bik strain turnink into such a huge bat.’
‘Excuse me,’ Wilf said from the window, ‘Er … I don’t want to cause you any anxiety, but there’s a lot of people milling about in the village.’
The Queen walked over to the window and looked out. She arched her eyebrows, flared her nostrils, looked at Wilf and asked, ‘Have you got mange?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Why?’
‘Because you are dropping fur all over my carpet.’
‘Ah yes. Well, I’m very sorry, but, you see, what’s happening is I’m slowly turning back to normal.’
‘Wilf,’ Her Majesty said, ‘I don’t think you have ever been normal. No one in this village, or even in this country, is normal. If it wasn’t for Victor, Valentine, Vernon and myself, this whole country would be inhabited by mad people.’
Wilf didn’t really listen to the Queen’s speech as he was too busy picking up bits of fur that were falling off him at an alarming rate.
‘I think I ought to be leaving now,’ he said, clutching an armful of fur. ‘You see, I promised Mum a fresh loaf.’
There was a sudden scream from under the coffin table. As they looked at where Victor was hanging upside down they noticed that his left leg was back to normal but his right leg was still that of a bat.
‘Keep concentrating dear,’ the Queen encouraged.
Wilf left the room, picking up his fur, but it was a difficult task. As fast as he picked one patch up, another patch fell off him.
The Queen watched Wilf leave the room. As the door shut she turned to her growing husband and in an acid voice she asked:
‘Why is that Wilf person so familar? Why does he talk to you that way?’ She looked under the coffin table to make sure she had been heard, and continued. ‘Big buckets of blood. He calls you by your first name. He actually calls you Victor or Vicky and I’ve even heard him call you Vic. Why do you allow this?’
King Victor, although in a certain amount of growing pain and extremely tired, said with a long sigh, ‘Mine dear, I vill tell you. The reason I allow him, ant only him, to call me Victor or Vicky, or even Vic, is because in a vay he is von off us. Although he is not a Vampire, like you ant I, every now and again he turns into a Verevolf.
The holidaymakers come here in their thousands ant spend lots of money of vich ve get our share, but the person they come to see is Vilf. Ya, Vilf the Verevolf. They talk to each other: “Haff you seen Vilf the Verevolf?” they say. “No, vot is he like?” they ask. “Oh, he is vonderful ant he doesn’t mind if you stroke him.” So, mine dear, he brings in a tremendous amount of money.
The other reason I allow him this privilege is because tonight vas the second time he has saved mine life. Vile I vas drownink in the vater of the moat, who vas it that came to mine rescue, eh? Whom vas it? Vernon maybe? No. Mine vife maybe? No. Mine servants maybe? No.
Vilf. Ya, that’s right, Vilf the Verevolf. He came to save me. So, mine little von, instead of givink him a medal for all the money he brinks here and for two times saving mine life, I allow him to call me Victor, or Vicky, or even Vic. That is not a bad price to pay, is it mine precious?’
The Queen walked out of the room without answering. As far as she was concerned, he was a King and should, by all accounts, be treated as one by all his subjects, whether they save lives or make money. ‘That was the way I was brought up. Always to respect your King.’