Terror Train by Terry Deary

Author:Terry Deary
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic UK
Published: 2018-08-02T16:00:00+00:00

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53 As you know, a BROKEN drum is the best thing you could own … because you can’t beat it. Just saying.

Tell us how many stars there are in the sky

Thora marched up to the hall of Abbot Oswald. Some Vikings were sharing the Abbot’s wine barrel, others were taking stone statues from around the room and smashing them on to the floor.

Eric the Slayer had found a chest with gold ornaments from the church and ordered Sigurd the Giant-Killer to carry them off to the ship. The terrified monks cowered in corners while Abbot Oswald was tied to his throne, roaring to be heard over the riot of noise.

‘God will punish you!’ he cried.

Thora laughed in his face. ‘I think you’ll find we just smashed your god on the floor of the hall.’ She pointed to painted splinters in the reeds that covered the earth floor.

‘Our God is in heaven and he will take his revenge on you.’

Thora cackled. ‘Well our god is here on the island and he will slap your bald head, old man.’

The Vikings were growing tired of their rampaging and were running out of statues to smash, wine to drink and treasure to loot. They stopped to listen to the argument. The red-faced, round-faced, sour-faced abbot thundered, ‘I will eat your sweaty sandals if you can show me one of your heathen gods!’ he bellowed.

Some Vikings chuckled. ‘One of our gods is outside right now, looking around your monastery for some boy he’s chasing,’ Eric the Slayer said.

‘Bring him in,’ Thora said, ‘and show these monkey chaps what a real god can do.’

The Vikings agreed. Sigurd the Giant-Killer was sent to find Igon and brought back the little man in black. He wasn’t used to a room full of people staring at him and expecting him to do some miracles54. Thora the Stout wrapped a stout arm around little Igon’s black-shirted shoulder. ‘This is Odin, the god of knowledge. He knows everything.’

The abbot strained at his ropes. ‘So tell us, wise Odin, tell us how many stars there are in the sky.’

Igon was a clever man. He had invented the infinit-G phone after all. He puffed up his skinny chest and looked wise as an owl that had been to school. ‘There are as many stars in the universe as there are grains of sand on Lindisfarne beach.’

The abbot gasped. The monks gasped. The Vikings gasped. ‘Amazing,’ the abbot said. ‘How did he know that? He really is a god.’

‘Well now that’s sorted, can we get on with our raid?’ Eric the Slayer said. ‘Where are the young monks we can sell as slaves?’

‘We only have young Edwin,’ the abbot sighed. ‘You can have him.’

‘No!’ Boy cried.

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