Petronella & the Trogot by Cheryl Bentley Read Free Book Online

now. Some other time. Please doth nat insist. All I can telleth ye be that it be calleth The Trogot.”
    Silence fell over the room. Nothing seemed to move in the still night. Petronella kept staring at the space where The Hooded Horseman had been as she heard a horse gallop away into the distance. The candle on the window ledge had gone out and the only light shining was that of the moonbeams through her window.
    She climbed the stairs up to the spare bedroom. Something made her go to the room. She needed to see if the tree was still there. She opened the door slightly and peeped through with one eye. Yes, it was still there. A sudden strong wind conjured up. The Trogot twisted itself to face the village and growled. At least she knew its name now.
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Chapter 14
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    So Petronella finally went off to her bed for the night. Without bothering to put the light on, she sat on her bed and took her boots off. What a day it had been, honestly. She folded over the covers and got into... arghhh!!! Someone squealed. Well, blow me, there was someone in Petronella’s bed. She hurried towards the light switch. Wasn’t a hooded horseman enough for one night?
    There in Petronella’s bed was a dirty ragged urchin boy of about eleven. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?” Petronella asked him in a kind voice. The poor boy was trembling with fright. He was in such a state. Petronella felt so sorry for him, she just couldn’t be hard on him.
    â€œI doth nat wanteth to goeth out and worketh in the fields tomorrow morning. Please doth nat be horrible and maketh me goeth. I be ill I telleth ye. I cannat goeth. Please, please, let me stayeth at home. I shall be good. I sweareth it on myn ma and pa’s souls.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about, young man?” she said. “The language was that of The Hooded Horseman.”
    â€œWho be you?” he asked.
    â€œI’d like to know who YOU are? You’re in MY house, I’ve got no explaining to do,” she said nicely.
    â€œYes, ye hath because this be MYN house. Me thinketh you was myn gran’ma for a moment. But ye be nat. Where be myn gran’ma? What be happeneth to myn gran’ma?” The boy started wailing and sobbing and all Petronella’s efforts to calm him came to no good.
    In the meantime, Maalox had sprung into the room, probably wondering what was going on. Because the boy wouldn’t stop wailing, Maalox started to get a wincy bit angry, drew his breath in and began inflating. Like a balloon, little-by-little. The boy’s tears stopped flowing as, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, he tried to figure out what was happening.
    â€œWhat be that?” he asked pointing to Maalox.
    â€œThat’s my cat, Maalox,” she replied.
    â€œI hath never ever seeneth a cat that size. Me thinketh I hath just seeneth it grow, I telleth ye,” he said.
    â€œHe’s a special cat to me. I love him very much. But, really, he is just as silly as any other cat.”
    Maalox jumped on the bed next to the boy and started purring to show that he wanted to be friends. The poor boy moved back a little from fright.
    â€œDon’t be frightened,” said Petronella, “he won’t harm you. What’s your name?”
    â€œMyn name be Percy,” he said now calming down. “I liveth here with my gran’ma. Myn ma and pa be both dead,” said the boy. Then looking around the room, he said: “The house looketh different. Was nat as nice as this before.”
    Petronella looked at Maalox wondering what to say. Maalox lay next to Percy, still purring, and Petronella took the boy’s hand. Of course, she had by now twigged that Percy was a Strincas. A little Strincas come back to life. He’d been made to slave in the fields and was a poor orphan. The state of him! So thin. Bruised and battered. How could anyone treat a little boy like that. The only relative he had left was his