Free Chew Bee or Not Chew Bee by Martin Chatterton

around his neck. ‘May I take this off?’ he asked.
    Sir Victor laughed. ‘The rope? It suits you. And I suspect you’ll be wearing another just like it before too long! Still, I suppose we do have to put you in the dungeon first.’ He waved to the Codpieces. They dismounted, removed the rope, and coiled it on the driver’s seat.
    Willy ran a finger around his collar where the rope had rubbed. It felt good to be free of it.
    Goldstein unhooked the horses from the drover’s cart and led them to the side of the road to graze.
    Rosenbloom approached Sir Victor with asheet of parchment pinned to a clipboard. ‘I just need your signature here, here and here, my Lord,’ he said to Sir Victor, pointing at the parchment with an enormous finger. ‘Just to say you received one boy, William Waggledagger. And one pile of top-class Royal manure.’ He held out a quill and a bottle of ink.
    Sir Victor grabbed the bottle of ink and the quill from Rosenbloom and began signing the form.
    Willy was free to watch the massive palace portcullis as it began to rise once more.
    It was time to cause a distraction.
    Willy threw back his head and faked a sneeze. He jerked violently and collided with Sir Victor. The bottle of ink Sir Victor was holding flew into the air. It landed squarely on Sir Victor’s head, covering him in thick black ink.
    â€˜I can’t see!’ wailed Sir Victor.
    The two Codpieces and Rosenbloom jumpedto Sir Victor’s aid, steadying him so he didn’t trip over. Goldstein produced a grimy handkerchief and began mopping Sir Victor’s face.
    â€˜That blasted boy!’ Sir Victor spluttered, black ink spraying everywhere. ‘When I get my hands on that moon-faced monkey I’ll…’
    Everyone’s attention was on the inky nobleman. Willy darted to the front of the cart. Grabbing the coil of rope from the driver’s seat, he tied the cart securely to the bottom of the portcullis.
    Then he dashed back to the rear of the cart. ‘Please forgive me, Sir Victor!’ he cried. ‘I must be allergic to Codpieces.’
    Sir Victor, his face still smeared with ink, shook his fist at Willy. ‘You imbecile!’ he snarled.
    The men crowded around Willy. The Codpieces lowered their pikes and held the pointy ends at Willy’s chest.

    Behind them, the cart was slowly hauled upright by the rising portcullis. In no time at all, its front wheels were lifted clear of the ground. So far, no one had noticed.
    Willy could hardly breathe. If his plan didn’t work in the next few seconds, he would be dead.
    â€˜I’m going to strangle you!’ howled Sir Victor, his eyes blazing with fury.
    The cart lifted higher still. The load of manure began to shift.
    C’mon, c’mon, thought Willy. Please let it work!
    â€˜Allow me,’ snarled Goldstein. ‘I’ll tear his arms off!’
    â€˜Wait,’ said Sir Victor. ‘What’s that noise? It sounds like an avalanche.’
    Three tons of stinking horse manure slid off the back of the upturned cart and roared downwards, heading directly for him.
    Fast.
    Willy nimbly skipped a couple of paces sideways.
    Sir Victor, the Codpieces, Rosenbloom and Goldstein turned just as the avalanche slammed into them. They tumbled past Willy, down the embankment, and towards the river, in a screaming tangle of legs and pikes and boots and horse poop.
    â€˜Blimey,’ murmured Willy. His plan was going better than he could possibly have imagined.
    At the foot of the slope, the avalanche thudded onto the Royal jetty, where a Royal barge worker was just about to tie up the Queen’s barge. The avalanche swept up the barge worker as if he was a loose twig, and landed with a crunch on the deck of the Royal barge. The craft lurched, bobbed out into the middle of the river and began drifting downstream.
    Even from a distance, Willy could make outSir Victor’s ink-and-manure-smeared