Read Online The Beasts of Clawstone Castle by Eva Ibbotson - Free Book Online Page A

Skeleton,’ said Mrs Grove. ‘It is one of the oldest skeletons in England and may appear anywhere in the castle.’
    Hearing himself talked about like that made Mr Smith feel brave. He was not some clapped out, overweight taxi driver; he was the Clawstone Skeleton. He pushed the lid up altogether. He sat up. He rolled his single eye. He leered.
    The shrieks of the little girls grew louder.
    ‘It’s done by wires,’ said Ham.
    But now there stole into the noses of the visitors . . . a smell. It was a familiar smell and yet it was unexpected in this place. It was the smell of something unwashed and sweaty. At the same time the sound of music burst through the hall, and then there appeared in the doorway . . . a pair of feet.
    The Feet waited for a moment as performers do before they go on stage. Then they took two steps forward and began to dance; and as they danced, the smell of sweat grew stronger as the muscles strained, and the tendons pulled, and the uncut nails clacked on the flagstones – but with the most amazing rhythm, with a feeling for the music that was quite extraordinary.
    ‘They’re puppets,’ sneered Ham.
    The Feet danced on. As they came up to the group of people watching spellbound, they neither slowed down nor stopped. It was as though the music had bewitched them.
    The lady professor gave a gulp. ‘I have been danced through by feet,’ she said in a surprised voice.
    In the cloakroom, Ned changed the tape and now it was the famous reel of the 51st Highlanders which sounded out. And The Feet danced this incredibly difficult reel up the stairs without a single mistake – and vanished through the brocade hangings on the landing.
    ‘We will now make our way to the dungeons,’ said Mrs Grove.
    The party of visitors followed her. Major Henry Hardbottock walked ahead, making it clear that he was different and important.
    ‘It was here that prisoners were thrown,’ said Mrs Grove. ‘Often they fell on the bodies of men who were already dead.’
    Upstairs the children, leaning over the wooden rails, looked anxiously at Mrs Field tottering gallantly after the others with her two sticks.
    ‘I’m going to take you home,’ said the bossy nurse. ‘This is no place for you.’
    ‘No, please. I want to see what comes next,’ said the old lady.
    What came next, as they left the dungeon, was a great cloud of steam, followed by a high-pitched and eerie wailing. Then through the steam they saw the figure of a laundry maid bending over a cauldron of water. She seemed to be wearing a white cap and a white trailing apron and through the writhing vapour they heard her curses and her moans.
    ‘It won’t come OUT,’ she screamed. ‘I can’t get it out.’
    She bent over the tub and lifted out a white cloth covered in red splashes. As soon as she scrubbed out one stain, another one appeared.
    ‘It’s blood,’ whispered Lucy, clutching her sisters. ‘You can see it, all gooey and red.’
    But now the washing girl straightened herself and they saw that she was not wearing a cap but a bridal wreath. And her glittering eyes searched the party of visitors.
    ‘Men!’ she spat. ‘It’s men I want. Men have betrayed me and now I shall get my revenge.’
    Dripping water, dripping blood, she swooped on to the small fat hiker and fastened her fingers round his throat.
    ‘Stop! Ugh! Guggle!’ gulped the small fat hiker.
    ‘I know who you are,’ she screeched. ‘You’re Henry.’
    ‘No, I’m not,’ he spluttered. ‘I’m not Henry. I’m Pete.’
    Ham had stopped sneering, and backed away.
    The demented bride passed straight through the hiker called Pete and swooped down on the other one. ‘Then you’re Henry,’ she screamed.
    ‘No, I’m not, I’m not,’ stammered the tall thin hiker, trying to beat her off. ‘I’m Joe.’
    Major Hardbottock now stepped forward. You could say a lot about him but not that he was a coward.
    ‘Henry is my name,’ he said.
    The effect on the mad bride was