The Princelings of the East Read online

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  The music was good, the Great Hall was crowded, and their grandfather, King Cole XIV, was circulating among his subjects followed by a retinue of persons carrying packages of varying shapes and sizes. Fred and George had solved their problem by hiding in a sizeable alcove that was covered by a tapestry. The alcove was usually solely occupied by a marble statue of King Rudolph II. The tapestry was usually found hanging in the second corridor to the west of the upper circle of the main castle. It had a fair size patch that was extremely threadbare where countless bottoms had rubbed against it as they turned a tight corner to go down to the dining hall three or more times a day. Fred had spotted the patch and George had confirmed it was not only the right height for them but it was also as easy to see through as a fine veil. Moving it the night before had been an interesting task, but they had made it without being seen by anyone that mattered. They had to share the space with King Rudolph, but they had slipped into the kitchens before the event started and stocked up with a selection of the cold foods already prepared. The smell of the hot food in the ovens had been mouth-watering, and they regretted missing the main feast. They’d made up for it by bringing back loaded plates. Garnishes and bits of sandwiches and half-eaten vegetable sticks were all that remained on them. Some of the empty ones were stacked on top of King Rudolph’s crown and the rest cradled pretty safely between the top of his shield and his right arm. They were still hoping to sneak out to sample the cooked food though. It seemed to them to be rather late arriving.

  They watched as the King did the rounds. Prince Vladimir, the Princelings’ uncle and the King’s deputy, looked straight at them, or rather the tapestry, a couple of times and Fred suspected he might have decided the tapestry didn’t belong there.

  “I don’t like the looks Vlad keeps giving us,” he whispered to George.

  “He can’t see us,” said George. “Stop feeling guilty!”

  “He knows this shouldn’t be here.”

  “So what’s he going to do about it right now?”

  What Prince Vladimir was going to do was walk right over to them. He stood there eyeing the tapestry, lips pursed. He reached out to the side of the tapestry. Fred and George held their breath, looking at each other with wide eyes.

  “Your highness,” said a servant, scurrying up behind the prince and whispering urgently in his ear so loudly that Vlad flinched and Fred and George could hear him. “We have a problem in the kitchen.”

  Vlad turned. “What?” he said sternly.

  “The ovens, they stopped working some time ago, we don’t know when. The cook…”

  “Why didn’t you notice?” Vlad barked.

  “Well, they were all working flat out, things were cooking, smelling of cooking, sizzling, and then they stopped sizzling, but the noise around was so loud we didn’t notice,” stammered the servant.

  “Well, serve what you can; it should have been served half an hour ago!”

  “That’s the problem, sire,” said the servant. “The cook is in tears, it’s all ruined!”

  “Surely something can be served?”

  “Some accompanying sauces, sire, but the pies and pastries ruined, the soufflé sunk, the vegetables are rock hard and the puddings a glutinous mess.”

  Just then the music stopped.

  “Wait here! No, get the cook to put the sweetmeats out.”

  They both hurried away, Vlad to the minstrels gallery where he could be heard remonstrating with the bandleader and the servant, presumably, to the kitchen.

  George looked at Fred wide-eyed.

  “The Energy Drain again! Oh, my… at such a time.”

  Fred nodded. “Everything on full blast, and the special lighting and everything. Just too much load, I suppose.”

  “The castle’s power plant should have no problem coping with this load. Something is draining the energy, Fred. And it certainly isn’t us!”