Eva Ibbotson - The Ogre of Oglefort

“Home to my roots and my stalactites and my worms,” cried the Aunt-with-the-Nose.

“Home to my cloister and my eggs and my quietness.”

“Home to the sea and my bones.”

They went on sobbing and slurping with relief for several more minutes. Then quite suddenly they said, “Good-bye,” and rushed out of the castle. Rushed over the drawbridge and away… away over the hills, while the earth shuddered under their great boots.

But Ivo had remembered something. He ran out after them, ran like the wind — but there was no hope of catching them, and after a while he came panting back into the ogre’s room.

“They’ve left Clarence,” he said.

“They’ll come back for him, surely,” said Mirella.

But they never did.

It was because of his horse that Prince Umberto returned safely to the palace in Waterfield.

The stallion simply plodded on, through dark woods, across dangerous bridges, on and on, not spooked by anything, making for his stable. All that Umberto had to do was hold on, which he managed just about, but when he reached Waterfield and the groom came forward to take the bridle, he slithered to the ground, almost fainting with exhaustion.

When he had pulled himself together and made his way into the palace, he found the whole family assembled in the big salon. The king and queen were there; the Princess Sidony with her husband, Prince Phillipe, was there; and so was the Princess Angeline and her husband, Prince Tomas.

And they were all looking at a small blob in the center of their circle.

The blob was not an ordinary blob; it was a very young baby. At one end the baby was having her diapers changed by Mirella’s old nurse; at the other end the Princess Sidony was fussing with the baby’s christening robe. Sweetie Pie had been born while her father was away fighting the ogre; she was a girl and about to be christened in Waterfield Cathedral with a great deal of pomp and ceremony.

“Good heavens, it’s Umberto,” said the queen, jumping to her feet. “We thought you had been killed in the battle.” And then: “Have you any news of our poor darling daughter? Have you any news of Mirella?”

“Yes I have,” said Umberto. “I know exactly what has happened to Mirella. But you must prepare yourself.”

“Oh no!” The poor queen looked stricken. “The ogre has eaten her!”

“No. He hasn’t done that. But he has… changed her. Mirella has become a bird. A white bird. I saw her, high in the sky.”

“Oh no! No!” cried the queen. She burst into tears and so did Princess Sidony and Princess Angeline, while the king and the princes looked utterly stricken.

But in the midst of the hullabaloo, the old nurse, who had finished with the baby’s diaper, stood up and said: “Now, now, there’s no call for all that fuss. Mirella wanted to be a bird from when she was very small. She was always up on the roof staring up at them. She’ll be as happy as can be, so let’s have no more weeping, because she’s got exactly what she wants, and let’s get this baby off to the church.”

It took time for the queen to stop weeping, but Angeline now said: “It’s true, Mother. What Nurse says is true. Mirella never fitted in, you know that. Look at the fuss she made when she had to be a bridesmaid at my wedding.”

Prince Phillipe and Prince Tomas nodded. To tell the truth they were terribly relieved that there was no question of another expedition to rescue Mirella from the ogre.

But Umberto had had a good idea. Obviously he couldn’t marry Mirella now, but he still desperately needed the money that Mirella’s father had promised him if he married into the family.

He looked down at the crib where Sweetie Pie was lying, blowing bubbles and looking really rather nice.

“I suppose I couldn’t get engaged to her,” he said, pointing to the baby. “I don’t mind waiting.”

But Umberto was unlucky. Sidony let out a shriek of anger, Prince Phillipe snorted, and the king said, “Most certainly not.”

Sweetie Pie wasn’t going to be a difficult and strange girl like Mirella — they would find a far more suitable husband for her when the time came.

So Umberto went back to his homeland, where his tailor and his barber and his bookie and all the people he owed money to were waiting for him, and his father said, “Enough is enough,” and banished him to two dark rooms at the back of the palace where Umberto had to do all his own housework; he even had to wash his bed socks by himself.

But the people of Waterfield, and the schoolchildren in particular, could never hear enough about Mirella. They became keen birdwatchers and bird protectors: bird tables and bird feeders appeared everywhere in the town, and the king and queen had a special flag made showing a white bird with outstretched wings which flew over the palace.

And again and again the children would nag for stories of her.

“Tell us about the Princess Mirella,” they would beg their parents. “Please tell us about the Princess Who Flew Away.”

The ghosts were back in their train, going around and around in an everlasting circle. They had been promised that if they frightened the ogre to death, their train would be rerouted: they would go on branch lines, through junctions, into different tunnels — but they had failed and now they were doomed once again to travel on the same wearying line.

The Ghost with the Umbrella had lost a leg. Ghosts don’t feel pain, but it was inconvenient and he had to use his umbrella as a crutch. The Honker’s seat was empty, and the dark place where the Inspector used to hover was gone.

Their failure weighed heavily upon the remaining ghosts. They were doomed to go around and around forever. There was nothing to be done.

But in their cave, the Norns now woke.

They didn’t wake very much; they were too far gone, but they woke as much as they could, and gradually they remembered what had happened.

They had sent the ghosts to frighten the ogre to death.

“Screen!” screeched the First Norn.

And, “Screen! Screen!” croaked the Second and Third Norns.

So the magic screen was brought and the Norns peered into it. They were so exhausted they could only just make out the pictures.

First the castle… then the castle courtyard and a strange sort of carriage waiting to cross the drawbridge. The carriage was closed and painted black with a white skull on the side, and the words: HERE LIES DENNIS OF OGLEFORT. REST IN PEACE.

“A hearse!” cried the First Norn.

“A funeral hearse,” said the Second Norn.

“Going to the graveyard,” said the Third.

They blinked excitedly at each other.

“Ogre dead!” said the First Norn.

“Ogre finished,” said the Second Norn.

“Being buried,” said the Third Norn.

They went on peering at the screen as the hearse lumbered away across the drawbridge, carrying the remains of the wicked monster to his grave.

“Princess free?” wondered the First Norn.

“Saved?” said the Second Norn.

“Back home?” wondered the Third.

They peered at the screen again and the picture changed… flickered… and then stopped in a walled garden with beautiful flowers and grass. The Princess Mirella was bending very carefully over a deep red rose, smelling the blossom just as a princess should. Her hair was combed and she looked very happy.