4
Sigurd Goes Berserk
Mr Thripp ran all the way to Flotby Police Station. ‘Help, help! There’s a Viking on the loose and he wants to chop me up like salami!’ he screamed at the officer on the front desk.
Constable Pritty fixed Mr Thripp with a calm stare, ‘I see, Sir. Would you like to take a deep breath and just tell me as calmly as you can what’s happened?’
Mr Thripp glanced fearfully over one shoulder at the open door. ‘I have just been to The Viking Hotel. There’s a Viking there – at least there’s a madman who says he’s a real Viking and he tried to chop me up with Deathsnore.’
‘Deathsnore? Excuse me sir, but what is Deathsnore?’
‘A hedge trimmer?’
‘Yes Officer, a hedge trimmer. For heaven’s sake, open your ears and listen. You’ve got to do something about it.’
‘This sounds very serious indeed, Sir. Attempted murder with a hedge trimmer. Can you describe the criminal?’
‘Yes. He’s revolting.’ Mr Thripp said bluntly.
‘Revolting,’ repeated Constable Pritty. ‘Do you think you could give me a few more details. Sir?’
‘Yes. He’s revolting, disgusting and filthy!’ said Mr Thripp completely missing the point.
‘No, no, Mr Thripp – can you describe what he looks like?’ Quickly Mr Thripp described Sigurd more clearly. Constable Pritty was rapidly drawing on to a big sheet of paper as Mr Thripp spoke, and as soon as the Health Inspector had finished, Constable Pritty triumphantly held up his sketch.
There! What about that? I don’t think we shall have much trouble finding this lad. Of course it is quite impossible that he’s a real Viking, so he’s breaking the Trade Descriptions Act as well.’
Mr Thripp gave a sneaky smile. ‘And he’s a foreigner!’
‘Foreign eh? We’d better check his passport then. He may be an illegal immigrant. Let’s see, what have we got so far – attempted murder, contravening the Trades Description Act and being an illegal immigrant.’ The constable licked the end of his pencil. ‘Not to mention carrying an offensive weapon, namely one hedge trimmer,’ he said, looking up triumphantly.
‘I think your Viking chappie could be spending a long time in jail. Come on, let’s go and arrest him.’
It was hardly a surprise to Mrs Ellis when she answered the knock on the hotel door to find Mr Thripp and a policeman standing there. The policeman pushed himself forward and adjusted his helmet. ‘I’m Pritty, Madam,’ he explained.
Mrs Ellis examined the policeman’s young face carefully. ‘Yes, I suppose you are pretty in a way – for a policeman that is.’ The constable turned extremely red.
‘That is not quite what I meant, Madam.’
‘No, I don’t suppose it was. Would you like to start again?’
‘I am Police Constable Pritty and I am afraid that I have come about a very serious matter. I have come to arrest a Viking by the name of Sigurd.’
Mrs Ellis had never thought it would get quite as bad as this. She could tell from the sickening smile on Mr Thripp’s face that there was big trouble in store for Sigurd, and she had no idea how to rescue him from this new situation.
‘I’ll fetch him for you,’ she said quietly, and hurried off to find her husband.
Mr Ellis gritted his teeth at the news. ‘Sigurd’s in the garden planting some new bushes. I’ll bring him to the hall.’
A few moments later Mr Ellis arrived with Siggy. His hands were covered in mud from the garden, where he had been digging. Mrs Ellis introduced everyone, hoping that Sigurd would make a good impression on the policeman. Siggy knew all about English good manners. He strode forward with a big grin on his innocent face and shook Constable Pritty warmly by the hand.
Unfortunately he leftmost of the hotel garden smeared across the constable’s hand. The policeman gamely tried to wipe it off, only to put several large muddy streaks across the front of his uniform. ‘Damaging a police officer’s uniform – that’s a very serious charge indeed,’ muttered Constable Pritty, fumbling for his notebook.
Mr Ellis asked if there was a problem. Why did they need to arrest Sigurd? Constable Pritty immediately launched into a long description of all the charges, with Mr Thripp grinning and hopping excitedly from one foot to another and adding bits here and there. Finally Constable Pritty asked to see Sigurd’s passport.
‘Pass-the-pot?’ repeated Siggy. Glancing round the hotel entrance he saw a rose bush standing in a big tub. Of course! That must be it! Sigurd seized the flowertub with both hands, picked it up and thrust it into Constable Pritty’s chest. ‘Pass-the-pot!’ Siggy repeated excitedly, thinking this must be some new party game.
‘What are you doing? Are you trying to be funny?’ cried Constable Pritty. Sigurd nodded and grinned even more.
‘I funny. You funny. Funny man in funny blue hat!’
Constable Pritty thrust out his chin and snapped at his helmet strap. ‘I am not funny at all, and neither is my hat,’ he growled.
Mr Ellis hastily came to Sigurd’s aid. ‘Sigurd doesn’t have a passport, Officer. You see, it’s not that he comes from another country, but that he comes from another century – the tenth century, and they didn’t have passports then.’
‘Oh yes? And my name is Darth Vader!’
‘I thought he was taller,’ murmured Mrs Ellis.
‘This is not a laughing matter, Madam. This Viking will have to come down to the police station with me for questioning.’
Mr Ellis turned to Sigurd and tried to explain the situation to him, but Siggy would have none of it. ‘I no go with Mr Blue-hat.’
‘Insulting a police officer,’ muttered Constable Pritty reaching for his notebook again. ‘I’m afraid that you have no choice, Sir. Just come with me please and don’t make things worse for yourself.’
It was at this point that Constable Pritty made a bad mistake. He tried to pull Sigurd along by the arm. In an instant Sigurd had leaped backwards, pulling Nosepicker from his scabbard as he did so.
‘Hah!’ yelled Sigurd. ‘Death to my enemies and to the enemies of my enemies and the enemies of the enemies of enemies – I think. By Thor, I make you all into barbecue meat!’
It was no use trying to calm the Viking down now. His blood was up. He stood there waving Nosepicker over his head so violently that he cut down three hanging baskets. Constable Pritty and Mr Thripp stared in horror at the mad Viking warrior and slowly began to back down the path.
Constable Pritty was secretly delighted at all this. Flotby was such a boring town normally and now he had a full scale incident on his hands.
‘I think reinforcements are called for,’ he hissed to Mr Thripp. ‘Come on, back to the station – fast!’ The two turned tail and ran, leaving Sigurd standing on the hotel steps waving Nosepicker. Mr and Mrs Ellis looked desperately at each other.
By this time Tim and Zoe had come outside to see what all the fuss was about. When they heard that Sigurd was about to be arrested and taken away they were horrified.
‘Do something, Daddy!’ cried Tim.
‘I can’t. I don’t know what to do,’ wailed Mr Ellis.
‘But he hasn’t done anything wrong!’ cried Zoe.
‘No? What about chasing Mr Thripp with a hedge trimmer, not to mention trying to skewer a policeman with Nosepicker.’
‘But that was self-defence,’ argued Zoe.
‘Smell the fence!’ shouted Sigurd with a big grin.
‘Not smell the fence – self-defence,’ corrected Zoe. Sigurd nodded violently.
‘Smell the fence!’
Mr Ellis buried his face in his hands. He could hear the wail of fast-approaching police cars. Tim stared out from the hotel steps. ‘Quick!’ he shouted. ‘You’ve got to do a runner, Sigurd. They’re after you.’
But Sigurd stood his ground. ‘I no go. I no coward. If Blue-hat wants Sigurd he come and take him.’ Sigurd slowly drew Nosepicker and strode to the front of the steps as six police cars burst on to the forecourt. Doors sprung open and twenty police officers leaped from the cars. Constable Pritty stood near the back with a megaphone.
‘Give yourself up!’ he shouted. ‘There is no escape. You are outnumbered. It’s twenty against one. Give yourself up!’
Sigurd’s answer to this was quite extraordinary and took everyone by surprise. He started taking off all his clothes. He pulled off his boots. He pulled off his jacket. Then he removed his shirt and started on his leggings.
‘What’s he doing?’ whispered Mrs Ellis.
‘Taking all his clothes off,’ said Mr Ellis, not quite believing what he was seeing. Zoe clutched at her father’s arm.
‘Daddy I know what he’s doing! He’s going berserk!’
‘Berserk?’ repeated Mr Ellis. ‘He’s stark raving bonkers if you ask me!’
‘No, no! That’s where the word berserk comes from. A “berserk” was a Viking warrior. When faced with terrible odds in a battle they took off all their clothes and then charged into the fight!’
‘What an extraordinary thing to do, and what peculiar things you learn at school,’ said Mr Ellis.
By this time Sigurd was sitting on the stone floor, pulling at his leggings and muttering to himself. ‘I berserk warrior. I cover garden with blood of Mr Blue-hats!’
Seizing his chance, Constable Pritty shouted ‘Charge!’ and a line of twenty police officers pounded towards the steps of the hotel, while Sigurd desperately tried to make up his mind. Was he going to pull his leggings off, or pull them back on again?