The Ogre of Oglefort

They all agreed that it was. But of course for them, time was running out. Whichever aunt inherited would want to be rid of them, that was for sure. Whipple Road was coming very close.

Though she dreaded the arrival of the aunts, the Hag now set herself to organize a great cleaning of the castle. Everyone helped her, scrubbing and tidying and making beds. It was not an easy task, because the ogre was now up and about and having “good” ideas about how things should be done. He had not seen the aunts for many years and was excited at the thought of the reunion. Fortunately he spent a lot of time looking into different cruises and wondering what he should wear on board.

Though she was not fond of housework, Mirella made a point of helping the Hag: quite apart from anything else she wanted to make sure that no insects or spiders were swept into the dustpan. So it happened that three days after the battle, Ivo went on his own to finish off some digging in the herb garden—and found the gnu looking perplexed.

“Something’s come up,” he said. “Bessie’s found something by the lake.”

So Ivo followed him to the far side of the lake and found the hippopotamus staring at something very unexpected.

“He’s been here ever since the battle,” she said. “He must have fallen off and got left behind. I thought he’d wake up and go away but he hasn’t. He’s coming around now though, I think.” She bent over the figure lying on the grass and pushed him carefully with her snout. “His horse is grazing over there. Funny-looking bloke, isn’t he?”

Ivo agreed that he was. He had recognized Prince Umberto immediately. The prince’s helmet had come off, his uniform was muddied, but there was no doubt that this was Mirella’s suitor.

“You’re right,” said Ivo to Bessie. “He’s coming around.”

Umberto was stirring. Now he opened his pale, vacant eyes and looked about him. He had dyed blond hair and a stupid face, and Ivo understood at once that Mirella would rather do anything in the world than marry him.

“Eh . . . what the devil . . . where . . . ?” muttered the prince.

Ivo waited. Umberto must have had a severe concussion, lying there for days. Perhaps he had forgotten why he was here.

But he had not.

“Mirella,” he said, trying to sit up. “Got to fetch her. . . . Parents want her. . . .” He rubbed his forehead. “I want her, too. Need her. Need her money.”

“Yes, of course you do,” said Ivo soothingly. “Just wait here, I’ll get you some water from the lake. It’s quite clean, you’re safe to drink it.”

He brought back a pitcher and watched as the prince drank and spluttered and drank again.

“Must find her,” he said, trying to get to his feet. And then, looking about him: “I had a horse.”

“Your horse is safe,” said Ivo. “You’ll be able to ride back.”

But Umberto was getting very upset. “Mirella . . . must find Mirella. Have to marry her. Have to because of no money.”

He started blundering about, muttering and peering, and Ivo watched him anxiously, wondering what to do. If Umberto found his way back to the castle, Mirella would go berserk; even seeing him from the battlements had made her throw up. On the other hand if he went back to the palace he might stir up the army again.

Ivo looked longingly at the lake. Pushing Umberto in would be easy enough and Bessie would see that he didn’t surface again, but he hadn’t really been brought up to murder people, even people as stupid as the prince.

It was as he was wondering what to do that he saw a white bird alight on the flat rock in the middle of the water. It was a large bird, very graceful and beautiful with a curved beak—a kind of gull, perhaps, or a tern, in from the sea. He wasn’t sure what it was—but Mirella would have known.

And at that moment, Ivo knew exactly what to do.

He went up to the prince, who had collapsed on a tree stump, and bent over him.

“Listen, Your Highness; I’ve something to tell you. Something very special and important. Can you hear me?”

Umberto blinked and turned his head. “Hear you . . .” he repeated.

“It’s about Mirella. But you must be brave. You must prepare for a shock.”

“Shock . . .” muttered Umberto. It was not easy to tell whether he was still suffering from concussion or just thick.

“I know you love Mirella—you must do if you’re engaged to marry her.”

“What? Yes, must do . . . Must love her . . .”

“And of course if you love somebody you want them to be happy, don’t you?”

Umberto seemed to find this difficult to understand but when Ivo had repeated it, he nodded and said he supposed this was so.

“Well Mirella is happy. She is happier than she has ever been in her life. Just look at her!” said Ivo, throwing out his arm.

“Eh . . . what? . . . Where? . . .” The prince had stumbled to his feet.

“Over there. On that rock,” said Ivo. “That bird. That’s her. That’s the Princess Mirella.”

The prince collapsed onto the stump again and rubbed his head.

“Don’t understand,” he muttered.

Ivo put a hand on his shoulder.