Eva Ibbotson - The Ogre of Oglefort

This aunt lived at the top of a tall tower which had once been a lighthouse. It was right at the edge of the sea, and when the aunt stood and looked out with her great eyes she could see every ship within hundreds of miles. She too collected things, but not worms or eggs — she collected the bones of sailors who had drowned. She gathered them up and bleached them and kept them in a special room in the tower: toe bones and ankle bones and thigh bones and ribs. This aunt was very thin because of running up and down the stairs of her tower. The Aunt-with-the-Ears was very tall and the Aunt-with-the-Nose was portly.

And when everything had been settled, the aunts set off, pulling Clarence behind them on his trolley.

“After all, Dennis is our nephew,” they told each other. “And we’ll have to see what’s to become of the castle.”

“Yes, that’s true. Who is he going to leave the castle to?”

They wondered about this all the way to Oglefort. The castle was the biggest and most important in the area — it must go to someone who mattered. And of course it should be someone from within the family.

If Clarence had only hatched and become someone remarkable, perhaps he would have had a chance to inherit — but the aunts were sensible women and they realized that the ogre couldn’t leave his castle to an egg.

Oh when will the aunts come?” said the ogre in a weak and trembling voice. “I feel terrible. I’m sure I can’t last much longer.”

“You said it would take them at least a week to make the journey,” said Ulf. But he was getting worried. If the ogre died before it was decided which aunt was going to inherit the castle it would make a nasty muddle.

He felt the ogre’s pulse, which was indeed extremely feeble.

“Try a spoonful of this — just a small one,” said the troll, reaching for a plate of gruel which the Hag had made, but the ogre only turned his head away and sighed.

It was at this moment that the gnu, out in the garden, lifted his great head. His ears twitched; he rose to his feet.

“What is it?” asked Ivo.

The gnu was looking anxious. “I hear something,” he said. “Keep very still.”

The children did as they were told. At first they could hear nothing — antelopes have much more sensitive hearing than humans. But as they waited and listened they too heard it.

Hoofbeats. A large number of them. Horses were approaching the castle.

The gnu pawed the ground, ready to take off.

But at that moment the aye-aye came bounding through the branches and dropped to the ground beside them. Her eyes were wide with terror.

“There are men with uniforms riding toward us. I could see them coming over the hill. Many men — a whole army.” She began to whimper. “Men like that are bad — very bad. They have flags with many colors — green and yellow and blue, and foolish hats. When men have such silly clothes they are dangerous.”

“Oh heavens!” Mirella had put her hands over her mouth. “Those are my parents’ colors — they have them on the royal standard. They’ll have sent an army to fetch me away but I won’t go — I won’t go.”

“The drawbridge,” said Ivo. “We must pull up the drawbridge.”

The children ran as fast as their legs would carry them into the castle.

The Hag and the wizard were in the kitchen. They had heard nothing, but when they saw the children’s faces they wasted no time.

“Only Ulf has the strength to shift the bridge,” said the Hag. “He’s upstairs with the ogre.”

They ran upstairs and burst into the ogre’s bedroom. The ogre was dozing and Ulf was just covering him with a blanket.

“Ulf, come quickly — we’re being attacked. We must pull up the drawbridge.”

Ulf wasted no time. He pulled the blanket farther up on the bed, hoping that the ogre had not heard, and ran downstairs.

But the ogre had heard. The children were about to follow the troll downstairs when a great roar came from the bed. Then the blanket was thrown off, and after a few convulsions the ogre was on his feet.

“Oh be careful!” said Mirella — for the ogre had not been out of bed for days.

The ogre swayed and clutched the bedpost. He straightened himself. He flexed his biceps — and the bulge of muscle rolled down his arm and grew bigger and bulgier by the minute. He lifted one leg, and put it down. Then he lifted the other — and kicked a chair, which flew across the room.

“Attacking us, are they,” he roared. “Attacking Oglefort! Get me my club and my entrenching tool. And my trousers,” he added as an afterthought.

“Boiling oil,” said the Hag, looking around hopefully. “They used to pour boiling oil on invaders — but we don’t have any. Only salad oil and not much of that. And you two must go down into the dungeons and hide,” she ordered the children. “Mirella must keep out of sight.”

“Well I won’t. I’m going to fight with everything I can find,” said Mirella. “We can throw things off the battlements.”

It was ridiculous how little they had to defend themselves with — but it was hundreds of years since the castle had been attacked. Ivo had found some fire irons; Mirella grabbed a footstool. The wizard had seized a marble bust of Germania’s grandmother.

Ulf with all his might pulled up the chain which held the drawbridge in place. To get into Oglefort now, the invaders would have to swim the moat.

The army had been advancing steadily, and now it took up its position in front of the castle. It wasn’t quite the troop which had set out from Waterfield. It was, in fact, considerably smaller. Three members of the Royal Fusiliers had turned back when they saw the narrow bridge over the gorge which they had to cross. Two soldiers from the Household Guards had fled when a giant had come roaring out of a forest that they had to pass through, and the Soldiers of the Bedchamber were down to four very bedraggled-looking riders.

But the two princes who were married to Mirella’s sisters were still mounted — and leading the charge. Prince Phillipe on a black charger rode on the left flank. He had left his stamp collection at home and was waving his sword and shouting abuse. Prince Tomas, still sucking a peppermint, led the right flank. But Prince Umberto, who was meant to be at the head of the whole troop, had somehow managed to get to the back. He rode a gray stallion that was tossing his head and fidgeting because Umberto had no idea how to control him, and Umberto looked sick with fear.

“We come to kill the Ogre of Ogelfort,” shouted Prince Phillipe.

“And to free the Princess Mirella,” shouted Prince Tomas. “Open the gates!”

Prince Umberto didn’t shout anything because he was trembling too much, but Mirella, up on the roof, had caught sight of him.

“I’m going to be sick,” she said as the horror of his courtship came back to her, and she vanished behind a chimney stack on the other side of the ramparts.

The soldiers looked up at the castle. It was frighteningly large but there did not seem to be any cannons pointing in their direction. Prince Tomas gave a command and the archers laid their arrows to their bows. But before they could shoot, there came a mighty roar from the battlements. Then an enormous figure, hid-eous and hairy, his huge arms raised threateningly, appeared and glared down at them.

The riders shifted in their saddles. Prince Phillipe’s horse took a pace backward.

Silhouetted against the sky, the Ogre of Oglefort was a terrifying sight.

“How dare you try to invade my castle, you vile scum,” shouted the ogre. “I spit on you! I’m going to tear you limb from limb. I’m going to devour you toe by toe and ear by ear and nose by nose.”