Deary Terry - The Thief, the Fool and the Big Fat King

THE THIEF THE FOOL AND THE BIG FAT KINGTHE THIEF THE FOOL AND THE BIG FAT KING Illustrated by Helen Flook A & C Black LondonThis book is dedicated to the memory of the hundreds of people who died for the greed and stupidity of the monstrous King Henry VIIITerry Deary Reprinted 2008, 2010 First published 2003 by A & C Black Publishers Ltd 36 Soho Square, London, W1D 3QY www.acblack.com Text copyright 2003 Terry Deary Illustrations copyright 2003 Helen Flook The rights of Terry Deary and Helen Flook to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work have been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988. eISBN: 978-1-40811-579-4 A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any meansgraphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or information storage and retrieval systemswithout the prior permission in writing of the publishers. This book is produced using paper that is made from wood grown in managed, sustainable forests. It is natural, renewable and recyclable.

The logging and manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Cox & Wyman, Reading RG1 8EX. Table of Contents Chapter One
Cowards and Coffins Lay-deez and gennle-men! my father cried to the crowd that gathered round. See this poor, hungry little boy? he roared, pointing at me. People drifted from every corner of the churchyard to see what was going on. There must have been five hundred people in St Pauls churchyard that day: meeting friends, doing business or just watching the entertainers.

Entertainers like me and my father. He kicked me on the ankle. Oh! I cried. Oh! Oh! Oh! I am so-o-o hungry! I would do anything for a crust of bread! The truth was, I was full of mutton pie, but you have to put on an act if you want to make some money. About fifty people pushed and jostled to get a better view. My father lifted me onto the rough wooden coffin we had brought with us.

This little boy is so-o-o hungry he is willing to risk his life to make a few pennies. Whats he going to do? a tangle-haired girl called out. Jump off the coffin? The crowd laughed. Father turned red. He is going to let me stab him! my father shouted, and the laughter died suddenly. Tshah! the girl sneered.

Ill give you a penny if you let me do it. She pulled a knife from the pocket of her scruffy brown dress and waved it under my nose. Ill cut his head clean off. My father tried to ignore her. He pulled off his green cap and held it out. Come on, lay-deez and gennle-men.

Give just a few pennies to see this terrible sight! Oh! I cried. Oh! Oh! Oh! I am so-o-o hungry! I would do anything for a crust of bread! A thin man in a yellow jerkin and red trousers shouted, Lets see you stab him first! The rest of the crowd agreed. Stab him first! And the tangle-haired girl said, Let me do it! My father slapped his cap back on. Oh, very well, he snapped. I will stab him. He turned to me.

Are you ready, my dear, darling little boy? I squeezed my eyes tight shut and squeaked, Yes, my dear father. But if I die, please give my love to Mummy! The crowd shuffled and sniffed and looked unsure now. Even the tangle-haired girl in the scruffy dress was watching in silence. If I get it wrong and I kill you, will you forgive me, little James? I forgive you, Father, I sighed. I wished hed get on with it. But I knew he was waiting till everyone in the graveyard was watching.

The bigger the audience, the more money wed make. Lay-deez and gennle-men, Father went on and I opened my eyes a little. This is no trick. See this knifeit is sharp enough to shave a swine! He reached forward, grabbed the girl in the brown dress and sliced off a lump of her tangled hair with a stroke. The crowd gasped. Oi! What are you doing? the girl raged and her face, under the dirty smudges, glowed red with anger.

I tried not to laugh. My father turned to me. He raised the knife high in the air so the spring sunlight glittered on the blade. It was so quiet, Ill swear you could hear the worms below the graveyard chewing away at the bodies. The knife swept down and struck me in the stomach. Chapter Two
Blood and Bladders Oh, Father! I gasped and clutched at my stomach.

The cold blood trickled through my fingers. The crowd shouted and cried in confusion. Oh, dear Father, I think you have killed me! I moved to the end of the coffin and fell into his arms. My son, my James, my little Jimmy! he wept. I have your coffin here, he said. I let myself go limp in his arms.

He kicked open the lid and lowered me into the box. The lid slammed and I was in darkness. That didnt matter. Id done this fifty times before, all over England and Wales. I didnt need light. There was still some pigs blood in it and I wrapped it quickly in the shirt and stuffed it in the hidden cubbyhole at the head of the coffin. I took off the wooden board that was strapped to my bellythe one that had stopped the knife from really going into me. I placed it, clean side out, over the secret cubbyhole so the blood-stained shirt was hidden.