The Royal Rabbits of London: Escape from the Tower

Shylo was awoken by a loud babbling. It seemed as if the entire Grand Burrow was shaking with activity. Hurriedly, he threw on his jacket and scampered to the great hall. Rabbits were gathered on every floor, peering over the balustrades, as Zeno assembled his Thumpers in the hall below. The army of rabbits stood to attention in rows, awaiting their orders from the Marshal of the Thumpers. Shylo stood on a high step of the staircase and watched in fascination. He had yet to see the Thumpers in all their glory and it was very exciting. He could see Hunter deep in conversation with Lola and deduced from their grave expressions that the Jacks were not included in this expedition, whatever it was.

A third, who sounded very knowledgeable, added: ‘The Ratzis have discovered our secret entrance, but our Thumpers will see them off.’

As you know, Shylo was a very curious rabbit. It was curiosity that had originally led him to Horatio’s burrow on the forbidden side of the forest back home, and it was curiosity that drove him to read newspapers and books, but too much curiosity can sometimes be a dangerous thing.

Now curiosity inspired Shylo to follow Zeno and the Thumpers as they made their way outside to St James’s Park. There he saw the Ratzis circling on their Ratzi-blades. A dark, menacing pack of the super-rats, with their oily backs hunched and their teeth bared, were weaving in and out of each other. Shylo stood beneath the tree and watched, wracking his brains as he tried to think of something he could do to help.

From the front of his assembled army, Zeno raised his paw: ‘Monsters! Charge!’ he shouted and the Thumpers marched towards them. To Shylo’s surprise, the Ratzis began to retreat, quickly swivelling round and skating away into the park. He hadn’t expected it to be that easy.

‘Halt!’ cried Zeno and the Thumpers stopped marching. Zeno punched the air with his paw in jubilation. ‘You truly are monsters!’ he shouted to his Thumpers. ‘Look how quickly the cowardly Ratzis ran away!’

Shylo felt an uneasiness in his belly. The kind of worry that starts at the paws, climbs into the chest and then spreads out until one’s whole body is tingling with apprehension. It was the same sort of sickly uneasiness that he used to feel when his siblings played practical jokes on him.

‘Zeno!’ he cried, suddenly realizing that the rats were simply a diversion. But before he had time to get Zeno’s attention something terrible happened.

The whole world was plunged into darkness as a sack was thrown over Shylo’s head. He was pushed to the ground then hauled into the air. Panic gripped him. He squirmed, trying to escape, but the opening of the sack had been tied into a firm knot. He felt himself being carried. The bag swung, making him feel sick. He kicked with his hind legs and burrowed with his front paws, but the sack was too thick and after a while he gave up, sitting in a sorry heap at the bottom. The smell of Ratzi invaded his nostrils. He had no doubt as to who his captors were.

‘I got him!’ came the reply, a female voice this time. ‘You were useless. I’ll make sure Papa Ratzi knows exactly how rubbish you were! He’ll lop off a little more of your tail. And I’ll be famous.’

‘Let’s take him to the Shard. The Doctor will make him talk and then we’ll find out all of the secrets of the Royal Rabbits of London.’ Flintskin laughed. ‘No one survives the chest press!’

By the time Shylo was released from the sack, he was feeling so sick he could barely move. Gingerly, he crept out to find himself surrounded by Ratzis. Hundreds of Ratzis. The smell was so repulsive he could barely breathe. The rats peered at him. What was more alarming than their bulging, greedy eyes was the saliva dribbling from their open mouths. A couple were actually driggling. Shylo was afraid that they might not interrogate him as he’d overheard, but gobble him up instead.

He trembled with fear. He had begun to believe himself brave, as brave as any of the Royal Rabbits, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t brave at all. After the triumph of his last adventure, he now felt such a fool because he couldn’t even muster a small slice of courage in the face of this many rats. He was terrified.

‘Don’t be afraid, little bunny,’ said one of the fattest Ratzis. ‘We’re not going to eat you . . . yet!’ He guffawed and his greasy belly wobbled. Shylo’s ears had fallen over his face and his bottom lip was trembling as he tried to hold back his tears.

‘What happens if I ping it?’ chortled a scruffy one crawling with fleas. He put out a long claw and pulled the elastic like Maximilian, Shylo’s brother, used to do. When it snapped back, it gave Shylo a twang of pain. Suddenly, his fear turned to anger and he clenched his paws.

‘You do that again and I’ll set the corgis on you!’ he shouted, surprising himself. ‘They made a hearty meal out of those rats I found in the tunnel!’ Shylo didn’t even come up to the rat’s waist, but his outburst had been so furious the rat stepped back in shock and Shylo felt empowered for a brief and blissful moment. But then it was over. Rough claws grabbed him by the shoulders.

‘Enough!’ Shylo recognized the voice. It was the female rat who had captured him, Mavis. She really was very ugly, Shylo thought, peering up at her misshapen jaw and drool-speckled lips.

Suddenly, the sound of ‘Rock-a-bye Baby’ silenced the muttering rats. Words appeared in the air and Shylo read them in astonishment, wondering how they got there.

Well done, Mavis. I am proud of my clever Ratzi. I have been busy too and have discovered something very pleasing from an informer in The Grand Burrow itself.

At the shocking mention of a traitor at the heart of Royal Rabbit Headquarters, Shylo stopped feeling sorry for himself and stared at the words in horror. What rabbit would betray Nelson and why, he wondered?

The President’s greatest fear is rats! Isn’t that the best news ever! I command u to invade Buckingham Palace at dusk in ur seething hundreds and swarm into the Banqueting Hall. Now u know where the secret entrance to The Grand Burrow is, u shouldn’t have too much trouble fighting ur way in. My Ratzis r far superior to those rabbits! I want to see the President looking like a fool on live TV, broadcast all over the world. America will never recover from the humiliation and the British will be blamed. The world will SHAKE!

The words stopped and the rats looked from one to the other with excitement. They now had a plan and it was a good one. It was the best plan Papa Ratzi had ever had.

‘Come, little rabbit, you have an appointment with the Doctor,’ said Mavis, anxious to get inside the palace so that she would be the one to film the Ratzi-swarm.

‘Uh, the Doctor’s sick,’ said Thigby, scratching his bottom where a flea was burrowing into his fur.

‘Sick?’ Mavis rounded on the flabby rat. ‘What do you mean he’s sick? He’s a doctor!’

‘He ate a gigantic hamburger and the lettuce in it made him ill,’ Thigby explained. ‘Serves him right for eating salad. Yuk!’

‘Then we’ll have to wait until he’s better. In the meantime, take this silly bunny to the Gym and guard him,’ she commanded and Thigby nodded obediently.

The Ratzis’ Gym was positioned at the very tip of the point of the Shard. Everything in it was brand-new. Shiny leather and chrome running machines gleamed like metallic statues, facing an entire wall of glass. But of course not one Ratzi had ever used this room for the purpose of exercise; instead, they treated it like a torture chamber.

Thigby dragged Shylo to the Gym by the scruff of his neck and, as they entered the room, Shylo shivered. The Gym didn’t have the same ratty scent as downstairs; instead, the air was thick with the smell of fear. Thigby, who had only one ear, a short nose, swollen cheeks and round, bulging eyes, leered at his prisoner. He was a very sweaty rat – so sweaty that it ran like a stream over his flibbery belly, leaving a trail.

‘It’s just you and me, bunkin. I could eat you now. I could have you all to myself,’ he said, stepping closer and covering Shylo in his stinky, ratty breath.

‘But you wouldn’t want to upset Mavis,’ said Shylo, thinking quickly. ‘And what would Papa Ratzi do to you?’ Thigby sneered, but backed away, leaving Shylo alone in the room.

The rabbit hopped to the glass wall and gazed out over London. If anyone had looked up at that moment, they would have seen a very small, very frightened rabbit staring out of the enormous window. But Shylo didn’t imagine anyone knew where he was. He didn’t imagine anyone even knew he’d been kidnapped. He was all alone, waiting to face the Doctor, whoever he was, and he longed to cuddle his mummy with all his heart.

Shylo started to cry. He’d let everyone down: Nelson, who had believed in him, and Laser, Clooney, Zeno and Belle de Paw who had so readily embraced him into their fold. He didn’t deserve their affection. He didn’t deserve to be a Royal Rabbit. He didn’t deserve his Red Badge or his medal. He now felt foolish for having sent it to his mother. Real Royal Rabbits didn’t get kidnapped by Ratzis! He had been stupid to celebrate his success after one triumphant adventure. One lucky escape didn’t make him brave or clever. He was a small country bunny with an eyepatch to cure a squint: that was the truth. How could he ever have believed he was a Royal Rabbit?

ST-BT was in the Fox Club, sitting at a roulette table, spinning the wheel, when the doors opened and a slight, wiry vixen walked into the room dressed in a scarlet tracksuit. ST-BT raised his eyes and watched her approach. Red Velvet was one of his most valuable spies. She could stalk along drainpipes, dance on rooftops, sashay through railings and at night she padded empty streets as if she ruled the city. She was as swift as the wind and as nimble as an acrobat and there was no creature in the whole of the city to touch her.

At this, ST-BT’s face darkened. He liked the little rabbit. He might be a feeble-looking creature, but he had shown wit and intelligence and, if Horatio had seen qualities in him worthy of sending him into the heart of the Royal Rabbits, then he must be a very special rabbit indeed. ‘Shylo’s in mortal danger,’ he said, putting down the dice. ‘He won’t survive the Doctor. No one does. We must inform Nelson at once.’