The Ogre of Oglefort

Just for a moment after she swallowed him, Germania’s stomach did not feel well; it gave a kind of blip of horror, a sort of spasm. She felt as though no food in the world was worth eating—never had been worth eating, and never would be worth eating again. That where her stomach with its happy memories had been, there was now a pit of cold ghastliness—and the cold ghastliness would go on forever.

Then her ectoplasm got to work digesting the swallowed specter, reducing him to a miasmic pulp—and Germania smiled because her stomach was itself again, and her work was done.

And she made her way back to the mound and climbed inside and the bones settled over her again—and all was peace.

CHAPTER23GERMANIA

It is a strange thing, but while the harm that ghosts do can be truly terrible, it does not last. As soon as the specters have gone, the victims quickly recover. So within a few hours the children were able to run into the ogre’s room and tell him that the ghosts had gone for good.

“And it was your wife that did it,” said Mirella.

“We were looking out of the window and we saw her,” said Ivo. “There was a full moon and we saw everything. She chased them away and she ate some of them—she really is a marvelous woman.”

The ogre sat up in bed. “I wonder how she knew,” he said. “She’s such a sound sleeper.”

The children looked at each other. They had promised the wizard they would keep his secret, and the memory of that walk to the mound, with the ghosts so close, was one they did not want to remember.

“I must speak to her,” the ogre went on. “She will be getting impatient. I must speak to Germania and tell her that I’m coming just as soon as the aunts arrive.” He threw out his arms like someone in a play. “I must Give Myself to the Mound,” he said.

He went on saying that he must Give Himself to the Mound all the next day. He was still shaken and the marks made by the phantom umbrella had not quite healed, but as night fell he put on his clothes. Then he put his head around the kitchen door, and in case they hadn’t heard him before, he said once again that he was going to Give Himself to the Mound.

He was gone for over an hour. Though it was long past the children’s bedtime, everyone was still waiting up in case he wanted to tell them how he had got on.

He came in silently and sat down. He drummed with his great fingers on the arm of his chair.

No one dared to say anything. The Hag handed him a mug of tea.

The ogre sighed. Then he sighed again. When he spoke his voice was full of bewilderment.

“She doesn’t want me,” he said.

Everyone looked at him in a concerned sort of way.

“She will want me,” he went on. “Later. But at the moment she feels like being alone. She says sharing a mound is like sharing a bed, you have to get used to it. That was why she appeared to me when I was about to change Mirella. I thought it was because she wanted me to come, but I was wrong—it was to tell me that she wasn’t ready. And she thinks I should go away somewhere and enjoy myself.”

“Perhaps that’s a good idea,” said the Hag. “After all you’re not old yet.”

“It isn’t as though your wife doesn’t want you,” said the troll. “She just wants you later. A great many people feel like that.”

“Yes.” But the ogre was staring into space in a gloomy manner. “Only I don’t know where to go to enjoy myself. It’s not really what I do.”

“I know,” said Mirella. “You could go on a cruise. They’re really good—you go to all sorts of places, and they play games on the deck.”

The ogre looked at her. Then his hand came down hard on the kitchen table. “Of course! The fingernail boat. Just the thing. It’s an old Viking ship made from the fingernails of dead warriors. The god Thor caused it to be built. It goes to all sorts of interesting places—the halls of the dead and the battlefields of heroes—and the passengers are people like me: ogres, satyrs, giants. You’re right, I haven’t been getting out enough.”

But though everyone thought that a cruise was a good idea, they weren’t so sure about a ship made of the fingernails of dead warriors.

“Don’t you think you’d be better on a proper cruise liner—the Empress of the Seas or one of those,” said Mirella. “Then you could throw rubber rings over nets and go to tea dances and things like that.”

The ogre said he would look into it. He was getting excited now, pacing up and down.

“The only thing is, what about the aunts?” said the wizard. “They’re coming because they think you’re on your deathbed and they’re going to inherit the castle.”

“And so they are,” he said. “So they are—one of them at least. I’m tired of owning things; I want to be free now. Completely free to circle the world until it’s time to join Germania. I shall ask each of them to tell me what they would do with the castle if they inherited it, and the one who comes up with the best plan shall have it. Now isn’t that a good idea?”