A Wild Ride Through the Night

  The giant hurled his instrument at the ground and stamped on it.

  Gustave turned to the penultimate candidate.

  ‘Now for you, Hyposhilop.’

  ‘Take care, he’ll try to hoodwink you!’ chorused the other five giants.

  ‘Do you also use an instrument in your branch of learning?’ Gustave asked sharply.

  ‘No,’ Hyposhilop replied with a grin. ‘Mine doesn’t need any.’

  ‘Well said!’ cried the other giants. ‘That’s the spirit!’

  A science that needs no instruments. Olyphoship. Hopyliposh. Polyshipho …

  ‘Why doesn’t it need any instruments?’

  ‘Because it deals with something no instrument can measure— whoops!’

  Hyposhilop clapped a hand over his mouth as if the answer had already slipped out.

  ‘Careful, you fool!’ yelled the other giants.

  A science dealing with something no instruments can measure. Hospophily. Shylopoiph. Phyloshoip. Sholopiphy …

  ‘Then your name is Philosophy,’ Gustave decided, ‘and you’re no smarter than the others.’

  ‘Hey, this is fun,’ Pancho whinnied. ‘Can I guess the last one?’

  ‘No!’ Gustave said sternly. ‘That’s my job.’

  ‘Hey, what about me?’ called Scisyhp. ‘You won’t catch me out with your trick questions! You’ll never guess my name!’

  ‘Oh, Scisyhp,’ Gustave said with a pitying smile. ‘I’d entirely forgotten about you. You’re far too easy, that’s why. I’ve no need to ask you any questions. Only seven letters, and you haven’t even taken the trouble to jumble them up properly, just turned them back to front. Your name is Physics, of course.’

  ‘ We told you so!’ growled the other giants. ‘You nitwit!’

  Gustave was in the best of spirits. He had taken on six huge giants—scientists and intellectuals into the bargain—and defeated them in a battle of wits. Another of Death’s tasks had been completed. He tugged at the reins—Pancho reared up on his hind legs—and raised a hand in farewell.

  ‘Well, gentlemen, that’s it. I’ve guessed your names, so I’ll take my leave. Have a nice evening.’

  He was about to steer Pancho between Mathematics and Biology when they closed up and barred his route.

  ‘One moment,’ said Mathematics.

  ‘What is it?’ Gustave said impatiently. ‘I’ve got other tasks to perform.’

  ‘Not so fast, my lad.’ There was a menacing undertone in Biology’s amiable voice. ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’

  ‘Forgotten something?’ hissed Pancho. ‘Like what?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Gustave demanded.

  Astronomy cleared his throat.

  ‘We’ve been observing you all the time through my huge telescope, as I told you. To our dismay, we’ve discovered that you haven’t done your homework—in biology and astronomy, mathematics and physics, philosophy and geology. That’s what you’ve forgotten!’

  The other giants grunted approvingly.

  It was true: Gustave had recently got a little behindhand with his homework. He was normally a hard-working and ambitious pupil, however, so he felt no need to reproach himself on that score.

  ‘Well?’ he said.

  ‘Instead of doing your homework, you sit there and scribble,’ Mathematics said in accusing tones.

  ‘I don’t scribble,’ Gustave retorted defiantly, ‘I draw!’

  ‘Draw?’ exclaimed Biology. ‘You won’t get anywhere in life like that. Drum the rudiments of the monopodial ramifications of umbelliferous plants into your head, and you could go far.’

  ‘Precisely!’ said Mathematics. ‘The same goes for the binomial theorem. It’s an absolute must in everyday life, yet you waste your precious time on anatomical studies.’

  ‘I’m genuinely concerned,’ said Physics. ‘How can you possibly hope to lead a well-ordered life without knowing how to conduct an effective spectral analysis?’

  ‘I aim to earn my living as an artist,’ Gustave replied stoutly.

  The giants pulled commiserating faces and nudged each other in the ribs.

  ‘The poor, deluded youth!’ Physics exclaimed.

  Geology shook his head. ‘Just fancy, he proposes to go through life without knowing the difference between the Pleistocene, the Cretaceous and the Jurassic!’

  ‘He’d sooner draw!’ The giants roared with laughter until the ground shook. Gustave debated whether to spur Pancho into a gallop and make a dash for it, but he knew the giants would overhaul him within a few strides. Having recovered their breath, they looked down at him gravely and wagged their heads.

  ‘We simply want to spare you a life of hardship and disgrace, my boy,’ Geology said sympathetically. ‘That’s why we’re going to trample you to death with our granite boots.’

  The giants drew nearer, Pancho whinnied and retreated. Gustave gripped the reins more tightly and compelled him to stand still.

  ‘Why should you trample me to death?’ he demanded.

  ‘Because it’s the custom on the Plain of the Terrible Titans,’ Biology replied. ‘You come our way, we make you pay.’

  ‘He comes our way, we make him pay!’ chanted the other giants.

  ‘You come up here, it costs you dear!’ cried Geology.

  ‘He comes up here, it costs him dear!’

  The giants began to stamp their feet rhythmically, revealing the dirt-encrusted soles of their boots. They broke into another chant:

  Do you hear our fearsome chorus?

  You are just the victim for us!

  We shall trample you to death,

  squeeze out every ounce of breath!

  They pranced round Gustave and Pancho in a circle, clapping their hands, and the plain shuddered in time to the stomping of their granite boots. Philosophy paused for a moment and bent over Gustave.

  ‘Do you see the way the plain shimmers?’ he asked.

  Gustave had, of course, already been struck by the silvery film that coated the stony ground.

  ‘That’s the remains of all the suits of armour we’ve trampled to dust, together with their occupants. It’s the silver dust from all those dead knights which makes the plain shimmer like that.’ Philosophy laughed and took up the refrain once more.

  Like quicksilver gleam you must

  when we’ve trampled you to dust.

  Come, young man, it’s growing late,

  so prepare to meet your fate.

  The giants sang and stamped in a mounting frenzy as they steadily converged on Gustave.

  ‘Late, late!’ chorused the gargantuan creatures.

  ‘Fate, fate!’ came the echo from the mountains around.

  ‘It’s time you used one of your confounded weapons,’ Pancho hissed. ‘Lance, sword, armour—why else have I been toting them around all this time? You’re a knight, damn it all, so kindly act like one!’

  Gustave drew his sword.

  The giants were unimpressed. ‘Fate, fate!’ they bellowed.

  ‘What now?’ asked Gustave.

  ‘Just do as I say,’ Pancho whispered. ‘Hold your sword out in front of you, parallel to the ground, and keep it there. Grip it as tightly as you can.’

  The giants joined hands like children playing ring o’ roses. ‘Must, must, dust, dust!’ they chanted.

  ‘And now?’ Gustave whispered. ‘Shall I run them through?’

  ‘No, no,’ Pancho muttered between his teeth. ‘Just let them come closer.’

  ‘Even closer? They’ll crush us to death any minute.’ Gustave was still reluctant to take orders from a horse.

  ‘Don’t lose your nerve,’ Pancho whispered. ‘Let them come closer. Hold your arm out straight and keep absolutely still.’

  ‘Die, die!’ yelled the steadily advancing giants, feet pounding. ‘You must die!’

  All at once, Pancho rose on his hind legs. ‘Ever heard of an admirable Japanese custom known as seppuku?’ he called loudly. Then he whirled on the spot—
so swiftly, gracefully and unexpectedly that Gustave himself was taken by surprise.

  His adversaries were considerably more surprised, because all six discovered that they had been cut in half. Pancho’s pirouette had sent Gustave’s sword slicing through their bellies, neatly severing the upper halves of their bodies from the lower. The bisected giants lay on the ground, screaming and groaning, while their lower halves ran around aimlessly, like headless chickens. Their innards overflowed their waists and oozed along the ground, the blood came welling out of their stomachs in thick red rivulets.

  ‘Not a very appetising sight,’ said Pancho, on the verge of throwing up. ‘Let’s get out of here before I vomit.’

  Gustave sheathed his sword, applied the spurs, and Pancho galloped off across the plain at full tilt. Before long, when they were far enough away to be spared the sound of the giants’ groans and curses, Pancho slowed to a leisurely trot.

  ‘That was child’s play,’ said Gustave.

  ‘Yes, giants are easy meat provided you get them in the right place. Their midriffs are quite soft. Mind you, the sword has to be forged by a master craftsman and sharp as a razor.’

  ‘How could you have known the blade was so sharp?’

  ‘Because your weapons were personally supplied by Death, and there’s one thing you can depend on: if Death supplies you with something, he quality-controls it himself. He must still be hoping you’ll despair of completing your tasks and fall on your sword, or something.’

  Gustave heaved a sigh. ‘It’s nice to have friends.’

  ‘Hey,’ said Pancho, ‘we forgot to ask those giants the way to Lake

  Blue-Blood.’

  AT LAST THEY began to descend a rocky slope flanked by towering granite peaks that resembled the petrified horns of a herd of cyclopean bulls. Far below, wreathed in mist, lay a lake.

  ‘Could that be Lake Blue-Blood?’ Gustave wondered aloud.

  ‘I don’t detect any unpleasant smell,’ Pancho said breathlessly, ‘so we can’t have reached the Malodorous Mountains yet.’

  ‘The lake is blue,’ Gustave pointed out.

  ‘Mountain lakes generally are,’ Pancho replied. ‘That doesn’t mean it’s Lake Blue-Blood, far from it.’

  ‘Do you think Lake Blue-Blood is really full of blood?’

  ‘Nothing would surprise me in these accursed mountains.’

  They rode past a steep rocky outcrop surmounted by a ruined watchtower with crows fluttering round it.

  ‘At least we’re nearing civilisation again,’ Gustave said. ‘Hey, can you smell it too?’

  Pancho came to a halt and sniffed the air.

  ‘That’s not a smell,’ he snorted, ‘it’s an outrage.’

  ‘Sulphur,’ Gustave decided. ‘Where the air smells of sulphur, volcanic activity is to be expected. Let’s ride over to that promontory—we should get a good view of the lake from there.’

  Pancho obediently trotted off. When they looked over the edge of the cliff, their view of the lake was even more appalling than its stench. No doubt about it: they had reached the Malodorous Mountains at last. In many places, gas bubbles rising to the viscous surface burst with a loud pop. Foaming in the middle of the lake was a volcanic whirlpool, and the water near its shores was boiling hot. The acrid fumes and concentrated odour of sulphur it gave off were so strong, they made both horse and rider heave. What mainly caused Pancho to recoil several steps, however, was the sight of all the monsters.

  The waters and shores of the lake—even the rugged cliffs that enclosed it—were teeming with them. Wyverns undulated through the water, giant hippopotamuses floated in it like islands; the mountain lake and its immediate vicinity were populated by every conceivable form of nightmarish beast, from many-headed serpents and primeval raptors to octopuses of monstrous size.

  Wherever one looked, hair-raisingly hideous creatures wriggled and wallowed, fluttered and crawled. Equipped with scales and horns, suckers and talons, wings and fangs, spiked tails and yards-long tongues, they scrambled up the cliffs to inspect Gustave and his steed as soon as they caught sight of them. A spider the size of Pancho came scuttling up the sheer rock face at an alarming rate and planted itself in front of them, brandishing its forelegs in an aggressive manner and hissing through its venom-laden mandibles. Low-flying creatures of the air circled Gustave on leathery wings, and more and more monstrosities came to the surface of the lake to greet the newcomers.

  But the most frightful monster of all could be seen in the middle of the lake. A crocodile of prehistoric proportions, it could only be the Knight-Eating Giant Saurian. Why? Because it was in the act of devouring a knight, complete with horse and armour, while the hapless man’s squire—or what was left of him—was being chewed up by the beak of a huge, vulture-like bird perched on a rock below Gustave and Pancho.

  ‘I reckon we’re in the right place,’ Gustave whispered.

  Pancho looked indignant. ‘Nothing was ever said about horses being eaten too!’

  ‘Let’s get down to business right away,’ Gustave said resolutely. ‘Hey!’ he shouted across the lake. ‘Hey, giant crocodile! Are you the Most Monstrous of All Monsters?’

  ‘Monsters, monsters, monsters!’ the Echo Demons shouted back from their rocky niches on the opposite shore.

  The crocodile bolted the knight and his horse in two big gulps and belched disgustingly. Then it focused its yellowish-green gaze on Gustave. ‘Do you have to shout like that?’ the giant saurian protested, casting its eyes up to heaven. ‘The acoustics here are excellent, my friend. There’s no reason why we shouldn’t converse in a civilised manner.’ Its voice had sunk almost to a whisper. ‘But to answer your question: Yes, I am the Most Monstrous of All Monsters.’

  Gustave indicated the lake with his lance.

  ‘What makes you so much more monstrous than all the other frightful monsters here?’ he asked in a quieter voice. ‘They’re pretty monstrous too.’

  ‘Good question,’ Pancho said approvingly.

  ‘Well,’ the crocodile replied with a grin, baring a long row of razor-sharp molars, ‘there’s a small but important difference between them and me. Their motives for murdering and devouring their prey are base and contemptible. They kill out of greed, hunger, or boredom. Or simply out of blood-lust.’

  The crocodile seemed to speak without having to open its huge jaws; its cheek muscles twitched a little, but that was all. Its hoarse, gurgling voice, which came from somewhere deep in its intestines, sounded as if it were issuing from a waterlogged grave.

  ‘I, on the other hand, don’t kill and eat people from necessity. It isn’t pleasure or greed that prompts me to devour them, either. I don’t do it out of spite, I do it for love.’ A soft, dreamy note had come into the crocodile’s voice.

  ‘For love?’ asked Gustave, clutching his heart.

  ‘Yes, it’s the worst thing one can do,’ sighed the crocodile. ‘It breaks my heart every time. A shooting pain transfixes my breast like a dagger-thrust, and—’

  ‘I know the sensation well,’ Gustave said sadly.

  ‘Then you understand me!’ breathed the crocodile. ‘You know how I feel! I always weep when I devour my prey. You see this lake? It isn’t water, it’s crocodile tears, each of them personally shed by me. The blue coloration comes from the knights’ noble blood.’

  ‘How can you love someone you devour?’ Gustave demanded suspiciously. ‘How can you devour someone you love?’

  ‘You want to know how love works?’ The saurian groaned. ‘You’d better ask someone else, then. I certainly don’t know. Why do I kill what I love? Yes, why do I? You tell me!’ From inside the crocodile came a mournful gurgle like the intake of breath between two sobs. ‘But the really inexplicable thing,’ it went on, ‘is not that I love those whom I devour. The inexplicable, utterly amazing thing is that the people I devour love me although they know I’m going to devour them. Indeed, they actually love me while I’m devouring them!’

  ‘Nonsense,’ snorted P
ancho.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Gustave said firmly.

  ‘Then come a step closer,’ cooed the crocodile. ‘Come on, I can demonstrate it to you.’

  ‘It only wants to grab us with its long snout,’ Pancho growled between his teeth. ‘Crocodiles can jump, so I’ve heard.’

  ‘We’re far too high up,’ Gustave decreed. ‘We can risk going one step closer.’ He jabbed his lance at the giant spider, which uttered a venomous hiss but cravenly retreated and took refuge in a crack lower down the cliff. Pancho took a hesitant step towards the edge.

  ‘You see?’ said the crocodile. ‘I won’t harm you. This isn’t a trap— I won’t try any dirty tricks. You can trust me.’ Its voice had acquired an entirely new quality. Although clearer, more penetrating and easier to understand, it sounded softer and gentler than before— like a whisper breathed straight into Gustave’s ear.

  ‘Hm,’ said Gustave. ‘This crocodile is an honest creature. It hasn’t even tried to jump up at us.’

  ‘It certainly seems to be on the level,’ Pancho conceded. ‘In my view, it makes a thoroughly likeable impression.’

  ‘We could be the best of friends,’ cooed the crocodile, and its voice reverberated soothingly inside Gustave’s head like the purring of a cat. ‘We could do all kinds of things together.’

  Gustave couldn’t understand it. His long-standing prejudice against crocodiles now struck him as quite absurd. Crocodiles were genuinely amiable, sensitive creatures. Their armour might be tough, but it clearly concealed a soft heart. The prospect of engaging in some form of joint activity with this nice crocodile filled him with eager anticipation.

  ‘What kind of things could we do, for instance?’ he asked.

  ‘Well,’ said the monster, ‘you could jump into the lake, so I could eat you. I’d toy with you for a while—I’d confine myself at first to biting off your arms and legs, so you could witness the whole procedure. Then I’d chew up your head and scatter your innards across the lake for the others to devour.’ The crocodile’s voice resembled wavelets breaking on a distant shore—a soft, reassuring sound that filled Gustave’s head and gently dispelled any remaining doubts or misgivings. He would happily have conveyed his assent by throwing his arms around the creature’s neck. His liking for it, which had increased by leaps and bounds in the past few moments, transcended mere affection. He blushed.