The Princess Rules Read online

  Very soon, Bennett and Florizella, mounted on their fine ponies with Samson loping behind them, were trotting briskly down the white chalky road that wound far ahead, round the hills and woods, over hill and valley and indeed stream, southwards to the Plain Green Plains.

  It is rather an extraordinary experience, hunting a giant. You don’t need dogs to smell him out, as you would if you were hunting pheasant or duck. The smell of a giant, even an extremely clean giant, wafts all around him for about ten kilometres in any direction. This particular giant had found a store of onions on the very morning that Florizella and Bennett arrived at the Plain Green Plains, and the smell of his breath was enough to knock them off horseback.

  ‘Yuck,’ said Florizella, clinging to the mane of her brilliant bay pony, Jellybean, while warm gales of onion-scented wind buffeted them.

  Samson let out a short, yappy howl. ‘Ki-yi-yi-yi-yi!’ His nose was burning with too much scent and his eyes were watering.

  When hunting a giant, you don’t need sharp eyesight to spot him. He’s not like deer that can disappear into a forest, or sleek hares that lie low and blend into the ground – this giant blocked the sunlight. His feet and legs, thicker and bigger than tree trunks, towered above the flat, fertile lands of the Plain Green Plains.

  Jellybean stopped dead a good kilometre from the giant boots. So did Bennett’s pony, Thunderer, and they both kept a close watch on a giant bootlace as big as a rope from a sailing ship, which was undone and snaking across the road.

  Samson blinked miserably and growled under his breath.

  This really was a very big giant indeed. Florizella and Bennett had been privately certain that the messenger from the Plain Green Plains had been exaggerating about the size of the giant. Their high spirits on the day-long ride had been because they thought they were on their way to a giant perhaps three metres tall. But now they were close to him they could see why the messenger had been so determined that the king himself should come and sort out the problem. The adventure suddenly seemed very serious.

  Even sitting on their horses, Bennett and Florizella were only just level with the giant’s ankles in his thick knitted socks. Standing on the ground, they only came up to his big polished toecaps. They couldn’t even see his head. His broad legs, dressed in socks and big baggy breeches, and his tummy, straining against a green jerkin and belt, blocked the view upwards like an overhanging balcony on a house.

  Florizella and Bennett got off their horses and turned them loose in a nearby field. The horses kicked up their heels, rushed over to the far side and tried, very foolishly, to hide behind a tree. Horses hate giants and Jellybean especially disliked Florizella’s more dangerous adventures.

  ‘I have a plan,’ said Bennett. ‘We will summonhim to a parley. And then we will issue our challenge to him.’

  ‘Challenging him to what?’ Florizella asked.

  ‘Single combat with sword and lance,’ Bennett said promptly. ‘You’ll have to fight him, Florizella. It’s your kingdom, after all.’

  ‘Not me,’ Florizella said equally promptly. ‘You must be crazy, Bennett. It would be like a mouse challenging one of us to single combat. I think we should talk to him. He may be lost. Or just passing through.’

  ‘Combat would be more princely,’ Bennett said regretfully. ‘But I suppose you’re right. How shall we talk to him?’

  ‘We need a white flag,’ Florizella said. ‘To show that we want a peaceful talk. Have you got a clean hankie?’

  Bennett just laughed. Neither of them ever had a clean handkerchief.

  ‘We’ll use your shirt,’ Florizella said. ‘It’s white under the dirt. And, anyway, we’re not asking him to check up on the laundry. We just want to attract his attention and show him we mean peace.’

  Bennett took off his shirt and they tied it to a fallen branch of a tree. Then they went as close to the giant boots as they thought safe and waved the flag in the air.

  They waved for a long time.

  Nothing happened.

  ‘I don’t think he can see us,’ Florizella said.

  ‘My arms are tired,’ Bennett said. ‘Let’s shout at him.’

  The two children bawled upwards. ‘EXCUSE US! WE WANT TO TALK TO YOU!’

  Absolutely nothing happened.

  ‘This is stupid,’ Florizella said. ‘We’ll have to get him to look down. I’ll stab him in the ankle with my sword.’

  ‘Better not,’ Bennett said cautiously. ‘It might hurt him.’

  ‘No,’ Florizella said. ‘Look at the thickness of his socks. It would only be like a little mosquito bite.’

  ‘Mm,’ said Bennett. ‘And what do people do to mosquitoes?’

  ‘Swat them,’ Florizella replied. Then she said, ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘We have to get him down to our level, without making him angry,’ Bennett said thoughtfully. He was staring at the great rope of bootlace. Then he snapped his fingers. ‘I am a genius!’ he said. ‘We’ll knot his bootlace to that tree, then he’ll notice it has come undone and kneel down to do it up. Then he’ll see us, and we can talk to him.’

  ‘Great,’ said Florizella.

  The two of them took hold of the rope and, with much heaving and shoving, got it tied round a sturdy oak that grew in a little copse of other trees at the side of the road.

  Samson sat down beside the rope and tried to look optimistic. He was a very unhappy wolf cub.

  ‘Look out!’ Florizella yelled. ‘He’s moving!’

  She was right.

  One giant boot strode forward. The other one that was securely fastened to the oak tree moved a little. The rope strained tight, tight, tighter, and then …

  … pee-yoing!

  The rope snapped, the great boot shot forward, the giant stumbled and with a crash like a thousand earthquakes he fell to the earth, crushing two fences and sprawling over four fields.

  ‘Well done, genius!’ Florizella said crossly. ‘Now he’s knocked himself out!’

  The two children walked past the fallen body to the giant’s head. It was as big as a small hill. His skin was as rugged and as rough as a pebbly beach. His beard was a forest of thick golden hair. The hair on his head was a jungle of curls. He had fallen with his head turned to one side, and he was smiling slightly as if he were having pleasant dreams.

  ‘What shall we do now?’ Florizella asked Bennett. ‘Have you got another plan?’

  ‘Wait till he wakes up, I suppose,’ Bennett said. ‘I hope he won’t have a headache,’ he added a little nervously. ‘I think he hit his head as he fell.’

  ‘He can’t eat us,’ Florizella said without thinking. Then she said, ‘Oh! I suppose he could.’

  A small crowd of people of the Plain Green Plains had come running when they’d heard the great thunder of the falling giant.

  ‘Cut his throat, Princess Florizella!’ someone shouted from the back of the crowd. ‘Before he wakes up.’

  ‘Certainly not!’ Florizella and Bennett both said at once.

  ‘He’s eaten all our food and destroyed hundreds of houses,’ a woman cried. ‘He should be punished.’

  ‘In the old days a true prince would have challenged him to single combat,’ a man said, looking at Bennett.

  ‘Those days are gone,’ Bennett said firmly. ‘Anyway, we don’t want to kill him – we just want to move him on somewhere else.’

  The giant stirred slightly. Everyone in the crowd – especially the people who had talked very boldly about cutting his throat, or challenging him to single combat – rushed backwards and stayed out of reach. Only Florizella and Bennett waited where they were, right in front of the giant’s face.

  Slowly the giant opened his huge blue eyes.

  ‘Hello,’ Florizella squeaked. Because she was scared, her voice came out too high. She tried again. ‘Hello!’ she said, trying for a deep, comforting voice. This time she sounded like a cow mooing.

  ‘This is the land of the Seven Kingdoms,’ Bennett bellowed. ‘This is Her Royal