A Riddle for a King (Times Children's Book of the Week, from the bestselling author of the Etymologicon) E-Book
Mark Forsyth
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- Herausgeber: David Fickling Books
- Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
Philo longs for freedom and adventure, and he most certainly gets it when he lands in the strangest of lands: a place where nothing makes sense, a place packed with riddles and paradoxes. Will Philo ever make it home? Will he make sense of the conundrums that litter his path? An addictive, delightfully bamboozling story sure to thrill and intrigue puzzle-loving readers.
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From the author of theSunday Times number one bestseller,The Etymologicon
For Susannah, Tom, Vaughn, Xanthe, Edward, Alexander and Cecilia
Contents
CHAPTER 1
Which is Mainly Boring, until right at the end
This story begins on a perfectly ordinary day. Sorry about that. We’ll get to the Flying Castle and the Tower of Punishment and the Bridge-Riddler and the Penguin Gate and the Midnight Witch later. But for now, it was a perfectly ordinary day, and Philo was a perfectly ordinary boy. Well, of course, there was the funny name (which rhymed with high-low), and some people said that he had too much imagination, and some people said he had too little. I’ll leave you to decide on that. But for the moment, Philo was an ordinary boy who lived in an ordinary house, and it was raining.
The rain clitter-clattered against the windows as though it wanted to get in, and there was a rainy smell that was somehow sneaking into the house; the 2smell of mud and puddles. Aunt Harriet and Uncle Harry, with whom Philo lived, wanted to go to the seaside to see if it was raining there too, and they wanted to set off at 8:46 ON THE DOT.
Uncle Harry and Aunt Harriet liked to do everything ON THE DOT. They talked about it so much that Philo used to imagine a little black dot on which everything would be done.
‘Not a minute before and not a minute after,’ said Uncle Harry. ‘Being early is as bad as being late.’
‘Not a second before, darling, and not a second after,’ said Aunt Harriet. ‘It’s got to be done ON THE DOT.’
And that made Philo wonder. Because if you couldn’t be a second early or late, then why not half a second? Or half of half of a second? Or half of half of half of half of half of a second?
And you could go on forever like that: halving again and again and again. The dot would get smaller and smaller and smaller, until, eventually, it would be impossible to do anything On The Dot because the dot would be so unbelievably small that you wouldn’t have time to blink.
And then you wouldn’t be able to do anything.
And then you’d be stuck.
Aunt Harriet and Uncle Harry had planned the 3trip to the seaside very, very carefully.
‘We shall set off at eight forty-six a.m. precisely,’ said Uncle Harry.
‘We shall drive for one hour and thirteen minutes,’ said Aunt Harriet.
‘Then we shall get out and look at the view for seventy-two seconds,’ said Uncle Harry.
‘Then we shall drive for another two hours and twelve minutes,’ said Aunt Harriet.
‘By which point it will be time for sandwiches,’ said Uncle Harry.
‘Sandwich time,’ said Aunt Harriet.
The problem was that Philo could never quite remember the schedule, and whether it was four minutes seventeen seconds to eat the sandwiches or seventeen minutes and four seconds to do up your seatbelt. And there never seemed to be an hour for dilly-dallying or shilly-shallying or pretending to be an explorer.
That was what Philo longed for. He longed for strange adventures and monsters of the forest and perilous journeys with a faithful friend, and daring escapes and mysterious letters arriving from an unknown land. But there was never room for any of that in the timetable; and anyway, Philo had never received a mysterious letter from an unknown land. 4
In fact, he had never received a letter at all. There had been a time when he had crept downstairs early in the morning to check. But there was never anything for him. And even if there had been an invitation to adventure, he knew that there wouldn’t have been time.
‘Four minutes!’ called Aunt Harriet.
She didn’t really need to. It was easy to tell the time in that house, because although the house was perfectly ordinary in most ways, there was one funny thing about it: it was full of clocks. Alarm clocks, carriage clocks, digital clocks, cuckoo clocks, balloon clocks and banjo clocks; all tick-tocking, beep-beeping and chiming the hours.
6But Philo was standing next to the one clock that didn’t keep time properly. It was a great big tall grandfather clock made of dark oak with a high white face like the moon, and a little door in the front. It was Philo’s favourite, because it had belonged to his parents. But it was always wrong. No matter how many times Uncle Harry adjusted it and Aunt Harriet told it off, it wouldn’t tell the right time.
They’d set it to three o’clock exactly and go away and make a cup of tea, and by the time they came back it would be claiming that it was five past ten. Sometimes Philo was sure he had seen it going backwards, and sometimes he’d heard it chiming in the middle of the night, which wouldn’t have been wrong in itself, clocks are meant to chime every hour. But Philo had heard it chiming thirteen, and clocks should never chime thirteen.
That’s why Aunt Harriet and Uncle Harry had banished the grandfather clock to a dark corner behind the stairs. And that’s where Philo was. He was gazing at the big white face like the moon, when, quite without warning the narrow oak door at the front opened, and a strange little creature poked its head out, gave Philo a funny look, and asked ‘Are you the King?’
CHAPTER 2
In which Philo meets Mr Spronkel
It’s not every day that a little creature looks out of a grandfather clock and asks you whether you’re the king. In fact, it’s very few days. In fact, this is the only day I’ve ever heard of when that particular thing happened. Philo was so surprised that he didn’t know what to say.
‘Three minutes!’ called Uncle Harry.
Also, the creature was rather peculiar to look at. He was a bit like a giraffe, and a little like a human, and rather like an elephant, and almost exactly like a monkey, and very like a rabbit, and not at all like a duck.
And he was wearing a suit.
Or at least he seemed to be wearing two suits of different colours both at once, and at least three 8ties, and he had handkerchiefs coming out of every pocket and a shiny black shoe on one foot, and a shiny brown shoe on the other.
He didn’t look frightening to Philo, though. Perhaps because he was so little. He only came up to Philo’s shoulders. And he had asked ‘Are you the King?’ in a polite sort of way, as though he were a little lost, and maybe a little bit impatient.
Philo didn’t know what to say.
Above them, the grandfather clock was ticking. The hands were pointing at ten to three, which made it look as though the clock was smiling. Or smirking.
Philo felt that he had to say something, and the only thing he could think of to say was the truth, so he said it (very slowly).
‘I’m … not … the … King.’
‘That’s a pity,’ said the little creature, and in an instant he had jumped back into the grandfather clock and shut the door.
All was normal again. The rain was pattering on the windows, the clock ticked. Philo was almost inclined to believe that he must be imagining it. He was sure that nobody would believe him if he told anybody what had happened. Uncle Harry would say ‘Tosh’. Aunt Harriet would say ‘Fiddlesticks’, and everybody at school would call him a lying liar. 9
Philo reached his hand towards the little door in the clock. And then he decided not to.
‘Two minutes!’ called Aunt Harriet.
Then, suddenly, the little oak door opened again. The creature jumped out, looked at Philo, and said, ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of what?’ asked Philo.
‘That you’re not the King.’
‘Yes. I mean … I think I’m sure,’ said Philo.
‘Hmmm,’ said the creature. ‘Well if thinking is a half and sure is a whole, then thinking you’re sure must be half of a whole, which is half. So that’s no good. But I suppose that if you were sure that you think you’re not the King that would be a whole of a half, which is the same as half of a whole. So we’re back where we started, wouldn’t you agree?’
Philo tried to understand what the creature had just said. But he couldn’t.
‘Do you ever wear a crown?’ asked the creature.
‘No.’
‘Sit on a throne?’
‘No.’
‘Dole out just laws to your grateful subjects?’
‘No.’ Then, so as not to seem rude he added: ‘I’m Philo. It’s pronounced like high-low, but with an F sound.’ 10
‘Hmmm …’ said the creature. ‘Then it’s becoming increasingly unlikely.’
‘I’m sure I’m not the King.’
‘Disappointing, very disappointing, but I suppose I should have known that. No crown, after all. No regal bearing.’ He looked around. ‘We’re not in the Flying Castle are we?’
‘No,’ said Philo.
‘No it’s not the Flying Castle or no we’re not not in the Flying Castle? Because if we weren’t not in the Flying Castle, then it would stand to reason that we actually were in the Flying Castle, and then the King would be here.’
‘This isn’t the Flying Castle,’ said Philo. ‘Definitely.’
‘How very disappointing. Oh well, it looks like it’s going to be one of those days when I’m disappointed. I don’t like those days. I much prefer the ones when I’m appointed. But thank you for your time. If you do see the King, I mean if he should suddenly turn up, could you tell him that Mr Spronkel wanted to see him?’
‘Are you Mr Spronkel?’ asked Philo.
‘Of course,’ said the creature, ‘or at least I think so, which is just as good as knowing when it comes to your own name. After all, if I think I’m Mr Spronkel, then who’s to say otherwise?’ 11
‘Perhaps the King,’ said Philo.
‘Perhaps, but he’s not here, which means he must be somewhere else. Must dash. Adieu. Farewell. So long. So short. Goodbye.’
As he said these words his head sank and his shoulders sagged and his face grew sadder and sadder. But now, all of a sudden he jumped back into the grandfather clock and slammed the door behind him.
‘One minute!’ shouted Aunt Harriet.
The clock ticked, the rain lashed the windows.
Philo couldn’t help himself, he reached for the oak door, which he had never looked behind, and tried to open it.
CHAPTER 3
The Room of Signs
Philo pulled the little door in the front of the grandfather clock, and to his surprise it opened quite easily. In fact, it seemed to start opening before he even touched it. Then it was the simplest thing in the world to step inside, and the little door closed quietly behind him.
Philo found himself in a very strange room.
The room had twelve sides, and a big dome for a ceiling. There were no windows at all, and yet the whole place was full of sunlight. What’s more, the floor was covered in grass with white daisies and yellow buttercups scattered here and there. In the middle of the room was a big wooden table and an enormous armchair covered in cushions. Philo thought he had never seen such a comfortable looking chair in all his life. It looked like the perfect place to sit all afternoon eating sweets and daydreaming and generally being 13snug. But then he saw that above it was a large sign saying:
‘Well what’s the use of that?’ thought Philo. ‘Having a chair as comfy as that and nobody allowed to sit on it.’
And then he saw that there was a sign next to the table as well. It said:
It seemed to Philo to be a bit unfair that only he wasn’t allowed to use the table. And then he wondered what would happen if somebody else read the sign. Because if somebody else read it, then he, Philo, would be other people.
But before he was able to think all this through, he noticed lots of other signs, each on a pole posted into the green grass of the floor. And they all said strange things: 14
And that seemed even sillier, because if the sign were missing, then you wouldn’t have the sign to tell you that the sign was missing … so …
‘Oh dear,’ thought Philo, because he just had. But there didn’t seem to be any policemen about, so he was probably all right. He looked at the sign next to it, which said:
And the next one said:
15And the one after that said:
Philo rushed past that one to the far side of the room. There he found another little door, just like the one that he had come in by, and on it, in bright orange letters, were the words:
‘Well that’s easy to do,’ thought Philo, and he opened the door and stepped outside, where he saw something very frightening indeed.
CHAPTER 4
Mr Spronkel and the giant
There are an awful lot of doors in the world. There are doors in walls, in cars, in cellars and sewers, there are doors in castles and doors in case of emergency. There are doors in trains and doors in planes and doors in steam ships. But the door that Philo had just stepped through was in the side of a tree.
It was a neat little door and painted bright red. It even had a brass door-knocker, just like a proper front door. But it was in the side of a tree trunk, just a little way above the ground, and the tree was on the top of a hill.
It was a pleasant hill, covered in grass and flowers, and it was a lovely day, and the sun was shining, and the air tasted of strawberries and happiness, and it would all have been utterly delightful, apart from One 17Thing; and that One Thing was a big, angry giant who shouted: ‘Let’s fight!’
The giant was so tall that Philo didn’t even come up to his knees. He had a big angry beard and a big angry face and big angry hands, which were clenched into big angry fists.
‘I quite agree we should fight,’ said Mr Spronkel, who was so very much smaller than the giant that Philo hadn’t noticed him at first, ‘but first we should decide what the winner gets so we know what it is we’re fighting for. The King would know, but I couldn’t find him.’
‘Oh yes,’ said the giant. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ Then he noticed Philo. ‘Who are you?’
‘He’s not the King,’ said Mr Spronkel. ‘That’s who he is. I checked.’
‘Oh,’ said the giant despondently. ‘That’s a shame, that’s a terrible shame. The King would know what we were fighting for. The King knows everything. That’s why he’s king.’
‘Why are you fighting,’ asked Philo, ‘if you don’t know what you’re fighting for? And …’ here Philo looked at the huge, frightening giant and the tiny Mr Spronkel. ‘Why are you fighting at all?’
‘Well, of course we’ve got to fight,’ said Mr Spronkel. ‘You see Og here,’ and he gestured to the giant, ‘has taught me how to fight. He’s been giving me lessons 18for absolutely weeks. He’s taught me punching and kicking and hitting …’
‘And chucking people off cliffs,’ added Og.
‘And pinching and poking …’
‘And hurling people over things.’
‘And now I know everything there is to know about fighting.’
‘A complete education.’ Og nodded.
‘And I promised,’ said Mr Spronkel, ‘to pay Og a shiny gold coin after I’d won my first real fight.’
Here, Mr Spronkel took out a shiny gold coin and tossed it to Philo, who just managed to catch it.
‘That’s exactly what we agreed,’ said Og. ‘A moneyback guarantee. If you don’t win your first fight, you don’t have to pay me.’
‘It was a deal,’ said Mr Spronkel.
‘I see,’ said Philo, although he was a little confused. ‘So where are you going to have your first fight?’
‘Right here,’ said Mr Spronkel.
‘Right now,’ said the giant.
‘You see for my first fight, I’ve challenged Og. And we’re going to fight for the gold coin.’
‘That’s right,’ said Og.
‘And if I win,’ said Mr Spronkel, ‘then I get to keep the gold coin. That’s the prize. Now don’t you think that’s fair? The King would think that’s fair.’ 19
‘I suppose so,’ said Philo.
‘And if I lose,’ continued Mr Spronkel happily, ‘then I get to keep the gold coin, because the deal was that I only had to pay Og if I won my first fight. That was the deal.’
‘But …’ said Philo. ‘You mean that if you win you get the gold coin and if you lose you get the gold coin.’
‘Precisely,’ said Mr Spronkel with a big smile on his face.
‘No, no, no, no, NO!’ shouted Og. ‘That’s not fair.’
‘I think you’re right,’ said Philo.
‘Good!’ said Og, and he gave Philo a big smile. Then he glared at Mr Spronkel. ‘You see? Mr Not-The-King agrees with me. If I win the fight then I get the gold coin, BECAUSE I WON.’
‘I think …’ said Philo, but the giant cut him off.
‘And if I lose the fight then I get the gold coin, because if I lose that means you’ve won your first fight and if you’ve won your first fight then I get the coin BECAUSE THAT WAS THE DEAL.’
‘But …’ said Philo, and then he trailed off because he had got a bit confused. It seemed that whoever won got the gold coin, and that whoever lost got the gold coin, but that would mean that they were both right, which couldn’t be right.
‘If only the King were here instead of in his Flying 20Castle,’ said Mr Spronkel wistfully. ‘He’d know what we were fighting for.’
‘The King knows everything,’ agreed Og despondently.
‘But we’ll never get to the Flying Castle,’ said Mr Spronkel.
‘Let’s fight now,’ said Og, ‘and we can decide what we were fighting about afterwards.’
And he bunched up his huge, hairy hands.
‘Okey-dokey,’ said Mr Spronkel and clenched his tiny little fists. ‘Unless …’ he turned to Philo. ‘Do you know who should get the gold coin?’
‘If he knows,’ said Og, ‘why’d he be keeping it a secret?’
The giant raised his giant arm menacingly.
‘Well,’ said Philo carefully (because he didn’t want to get hurt), ‘according to the deal the gold coin should go to the loser of the fight, so …’
‘So … what?’ asked Mr Spronkel.
‘Yeah! So what?’ said Og.
But Philo didn’t reply. He was much too busy gazing at something, something extraordinary that was flying towards them through the sky. 21
CHAPTER 5
In which the Flying Castle is observed
If you asked most people what the best kind of building in the world was, they would say a castle. Of course, there’d be some who had a different opinion. There usually are. There would be people who’d say that the best sort of building was a palace or a prison or a barn or some such. There are probably some eccentrics who’d tell you that the best building in the world is something odd, like an oast house or a panopticon or a silo.
But the right answer is castle.
It has to be a proper castle, of course, with parapets and battlements and turrets and crenellations and towers and a keep and arrow slits and oubliettes, and at least one working drawbridge, and some secret tunnels and lots of spiral staircases, and a few 23mysterious towers that might contain princesses, but might just as easily contain dragons, and the only way to check would be to go there with a sword and shield and look for yourself. That’s a Proper Castle.
What Philo could see, and the reason that he was no longer paying any attention at all to Mr Spronkel and Og, was a Proper Castle. It had all those things – the turrets and parapets and stuff – but it was even better, because it was flying.
It’s a rule in life that everything looks better the farther up it is. A castle on top of a mountain looks better than a castle down in a hole. Even something ordinary, like a dog or a postman, would look magnificent if it were flying. People would come and stare and say, ‘Look! It’s a flying postman.’
And what Philo had seen was a flying castle.
As it came closer, he could even see how it was flying. All around the bottom edge of the castle, there were strings and ropes and cables and they were attached to hundreds and hundreds of birds. There were eagles and owls and crows and robins and pelicans and flamingoes and every other sort of bird you could name, all screeching and hooting and cawing and twittering and singing and flapping their wings to speed the castle through the morning sky.
But Og and Mr Spronkel hadn’t noticed the castle. 24They were still looking at Philo, and Og was even saying something that Philo could barely hear about how he might as well fight the boy as well and if the boy were that rude he’d beat him like an egg and then mash him like a naughty potato.
‘Look!’ said Philo, ‘It’s a fly …’
‘I’ll swat you like a fly!’
‘… ing castle.’
‘A what?’
‘A Flying Castle.’
Og and Mr Spronkel looked, and everything changed immediately. Mr Spronkel started jumping up and down and waving his arms and shouting ‘Your Majesty! Your Majesty!’ But it didn’t have much effect, as even when Mr Spronkel jumped as high as he could, he still wasn’t as tall as Philo, and Philo was only a child.
