Peter, the spider and the king (final part).
Part four: in which there are many pauses before various kinds of foolishness reap unexpected reward.
Having uttered his dire warning, the king’s communication ceased with a bang as the teapot lid snapped shut.
There was a pause.
Young Peter looked up at the grey clown face of Lord Mortis, a grey face under a grey wig and in a grey suit too. “Why does he talk to you by teapot lid?” he asked. Lord Mortis looked a little confused but Lord Yale produced a hooter and squished it loudly - Honk! Honk! - “because the servants are occupied, busy, yes - better things to do! And so have you young Master Impolite! Quickly, quickly - into your costume!”
If Peter felt suddenly reluctant to become an official clown of the mountain King he had no chance to complain because one of the puppets grabbed him firmly by its large wooden hands and before the lad could say “oh rabbits!” he felt a cloth and sponge slap into his face and a large wig was thrust on top of his own wild hair.
“Better, Lord Yale?” asked Mortis.
“Better Lord Mortis” answered Yale.
“You know…” said Peter thoughtfully, “you have very odd names for clowns.”
“Not always was clowns…” Mortis muttered, sounding a little sad.
“Guardians of the grand door to the castle of His Royal Highness William the XXvi, the King of all the Mountains and the land below.” Yale announced grandly.
“You should puff yourself up a bit when you say that,” Peter advised before asking, “And now you’re clowns?”
“When a King has a broken heart it turns all men into clowns,” said Lord Mortis.
A tea-pot lid snapped open. “Hurry up!” yelled the king, “I’m bored and sleepy!”
“But I’ve had no time to practise!” Peter was understandably nervous.
“No time to practise,” agreed the clowns, “just follow us.”
“Get on with it!” This was not the King but an equally impatient spider whose voice rose up from below the floor. The spiders’ puppets began to jiggle about. Lord Mortis hurriedly tied the laces on a pair of ridiculously large (faded red) clown boots that Peter had to wear. And then turned away and made for the door at the end of the room, Lord Yale having already gone.
As they departed, the shadowy figured puppets sagged back against the wall. Peter realised he hadn’t even noticed what sort of puppets they were meant to be.
Going up the stairs in his clown shoes was tricky, but Peter managed to keep with the hurrying clowns as they made their way through winding passages - up and down and around and around and up and down again. They went past doors and dungeons and tapestries and paintings and hanging lanterns and suits of armour too. Everything though seemed dingy and unloved, the tapestries looked mouldy, the paintings dark and the armour rusty.
“This castle is rubbish,” thought Peter and asked “Why HAS the King got a broken heart?”
The hurrying clowns did not stop to look at Peter but said simply, “a mystery!” and “Nobody knows!”
At last they came to a door before which the two clowns paused. “The throne room,” said Yale simply. There were some strange looking contraptions resting against the near wall - and the clowns grabbed at them eagerly; a unicycle, some roller skates, and some cakes (not too fresh). Mortis took some juggling balls from his pocket and the other clown helped him into the roller skates. Then the clowns knocked formally on the door.
“Your Majesty - the clowns!” bellowed a voice from inside the throne room and the door creaked open. “Now!” hissed Yale and pushed Peter through behind Mortis who had already started to enter. He had his skates on after all.
Stumbling forward, Peter nearly tripped as his big feet encountered the sticky wooden floor. Sticky? Yes because it was covered almost completely by webs old and new from the spider. Here again there were holes in the floor and pulleys on the ceiling that fed the webs from the puppets to the spider’s paws. Puppets there were, many of them in fact - soldiers, sailors, astronauts all dancing slowly around. As the spider manipulated them they bowed to one another or curtseyed or fell over. Some of them seemed to missing a limb and all were shabby; apart from the clowns however, they were also the only other figures in the room - except for the king.
Ah… the King… like everything around him, His Royal Highness William the Xxvi looked old, tired and worn out. His eyes were heavy as they peeped over the wrinkled slope of his nose and from beneath the rolling folds of his brow. His large white beard looked like a duvet for the rest of his face to snuggle under and doze.
The king was not dozing however because Peter could hear him sighing sadly and then yelling in that tetchy voice of his, “hurry up then - entertain me!”
Peter was half sure that nothing could perform such a miracle.
“Where is everybody?” Peter whispered quickly to his fellow clowns.
“Shush!” came the reply, “everyone has left and gone away except us - and we don’t TALK about it!”
So saying, Lord Mortis the clown threw his juggling balls up into the air and they came down hard on Peter’s head.
“Ow!” yelped Peter, “Catch!” yelled the clown.
“It’s a bit late to- ” Peter began - but he was caught by a puppet and spun about in a silent dance step. Of course he tripped over his shoes and sprawled headlong. He heard Yale sound a hooter.
“Very funny!” Peter coughed, wiping the web from his face.
Lord Mortis was close to him again, skating through the web as if it were snow. “Why didn’t you catch?” he muttered, grabbing the boy as he did so. If Peter was glad to be back on his feet the feeling didn’t last - as he found himself flung through the air towards Yale who was pedalling his unicycle as best he could given that it obviously had a flat tyre. “Allez oop!” yelled Mortis.
Unfortunately old Yale was not very quick and he missed the flying boy completely!
“AAAAAAAAaaagh!” yelled Peter crashing heavily into the unicycle.
“AAAAAAAAaaagh!” yelled the clown as he was knocked from his saddle, over the handlebars and into one of the puppets - a puppet that swayed for a moment, swayed again, then slowly began to topple sideways, the old webs snapped and it went crashing into the next puppet - that crashed into the next puppet - and the next and -
The last puppet tumbled backwards into Mortis who skidded in his skates and the tray full of cakes up-ended and they too went flying - one by one as if from a canon and
Splat! Splat! Splat!
they went as they landed on the King, direct hit - right in the face.
“AAAAAAAAaaagh!” Peter cried out, crawling quickly in search of a hiding place.
“AAAAAAAAaaagh!” screamed the clowns.
“AAAAAAAAaaagh!” cried out the spider from somewhere below.
There was a pause.
The clowns began to mutter excuses hurriedly, “… amateur clown - last minute addition - references must have been faked - so sorry… he SAID he was a clown - what a lie, what a whopper!!”
The spider could be heard as well agreeing “Just a thief - a bad liar, a useless thief and a worse clown! Let me eat him!”
There was another pause.
“Ha!” said the King.
The clowns froze.
“HA!” the king repeated - and a little louder. “Ha ha ha ha ha!” he said and now it was clearly a regal sort of chuckle - shortly followed by a full belly laugh!
“HA HA HA!” he went.
The clowns did not know WHAT to do.
“Eat him! Eat him!” The spider was calling up once again.
In the distraction, Young Peter kicked off his clown shoes, held his heavy bag tightly and jumped through one of the floor holes onto the spongy webs below. Not stopping to see if the spider had noticed him, he made a frantic dash across the chamber into the tunnel and away!
Up in the throne room things were still tense…
The King was standing up - something his two loyal clowns barely remembered ever seeing.
“Is it raining out?” inquired the King politely. “Only it might help wash this lot off. One rather feels like a clown” he added, chuckling again.
“I - I believe it Your Majesty,” the clowns answered timorously, “raining, a little.”
“Right then - outside we go, daresay we could use the air.” The King tottered from his throne onto the sticky floor. “Bit of a mess this place,” he noted, “rather let it go haven’t we? Perhaps we should go into town and get some help cleaning up.”
The mouths on the clowns went up and down, like puppets.
……………………
And so it was that a wet and miserable Young Peter was met on the road by the Landlord of the Pig and Whistle. He had been notified of the boy’s approach by spotters placed along the winding paths.
“You look miserable,” he said.
“That’s because I am!” Peter replied unhappily.
“I am a useless thief, a rotten liar and a bad clown too!” he was shaking his head now. “And I’m so tired - even my bag feels heavy like a rock.”
The Landlord grinned. “Young Peter you are wrong in every way. You have told me the truth - and you are indeed a very good thief.”
Peter looked baffled - but the Landlord picked up the boy’s bag from off his shoulders. “Only you are mistaken about this as well.”
The lad screwed up his eyes, feeling very perplexed. “How have I told you the truth - why am I a good thief - and why then does my bag feel so heavy to me?” he asked.
"Did you not look in your bag to see?"
Peter shook his head. "I have done nothing but run as fast as I can!"
The Landlord said "Ah..." and looked for himself inside the bag with a swift sharp glance and then smiled again, saying to Peter; “because you have done I what I asked, when I told you to fetch me the king’s most guarded treasure.”
“I - what?”
“You have stolen for me the King’s broken heart.”
Before the boy could express his astonishment, a breathless spotter ran up to the Landlord with the impossible news that the King was on his way to town.
THE END.
....................
i hope the last part was fun.
Having uttered his dire warning, the king’s communication ceased with a bang as the teapot lid snapped shut.
There was a pause.
Young Peter looked up at the grey clown face of Lord Mortis, a grey face under a grey wig and in a grey suit too. “Why does he talk to you by teapot lid?” he asked. Lord Mortis looked a little confused but Lord Yale produced a hooter and squished it loudly - Honk! Honk! - “because the servants are occupied, busy, yes - better things to do! And so have you young Master Impolite! Quickly, quickly - into your costume!”
If Peter felt suddenly reluctant to become an official clown of the mountain King he had no chance to complain because one of the puppets grabbed him firmly by its large wooden hands and before the lad could say “oh rabbits!” he felt a cloth and sponge slap into his face and a large wig was thrust on top of his own wild hair.
“Better, Lord Yale?” asked Mortis.
“Better Lord Mortis” answered Yale.
“You know…” said Peter thoughtfully, “you have very odd names for clowns.”
“Not always was clowns…” Mortis muttered, sounding a little sad.
“Guardians of the grand door to the castle of His Royal Highness William the XXvi, the King of all the Mountains and the land below.” Yale announced grandly.
“You should puff yourself up a bit when you say that,” Peter advised before asking, “And now you’re clowns?”
“When a King has a broken heart it turns all men into clowns,” said Lord Mortis.
A tea-pot lid snapped open. “Hurry up!” yelled the king, “I’m bored and sleepy!”
“But I’ve had no time to practise!” Peter was understandably nervous.
“No time to practise,” agreed the clowns, “just follow us.”
“Get on with it!” This was not the King but an equally impatient spider whose voice rose up from below the floor. The spiders’ puppets began to jiggle about. Lord Mortis hurriedly tied the laces on a pair of ridiculously large (faded red) clown boots that Peter had to wear. And then turned away and made for the door at the end of the room, Lord Yale having already gone.
As they departed, the shadowy figured puppets sagged back against the wall. Peter realised he hadn’t even noticed what sort of puppets they were meant to be.
Going up the stairs in his clown shoes was tricky, but Peter managed to keep with the hurrying clowns as they made their way through winding passages - up and down and around and around and up and down again. They went past doors and dungeons and tapestries and paintings and hanging lanterns and suits of armour too. Everything though seemed dingy and unloved, the tapestries looked mouldy, the paintings dark and the armour rusty.
“This castle is rubbish,” thought Peter and asked “Why HAS the King got a broken heart?”
The hurrying clowns did not stop to look at Peter but said simply, “a mystery!” and “Nobody knows!”
At last they came to a door before which the two clowns paused. “The throne room,” said Yale simply. There were some strange looking contraptions resting against the near wall - and the clowns grabbed at them eagerly; a unicycle, some roller skates, and some cakes (not too fresh). Mortis took some juggling balls from his pocket and the other clown helped him into the roller skates. Then the clowns knocked formally on the door.
“Your Majesty - the clowns!” bellowed a voice from inside the throne room and the door creaked open. “Now!” hissed Yale and pushed Peter through behind Mortis who had already started to enter. He had his skates on after all.
Stumbling forward, Peter nearly tripped as his big feet encountered the sticky wooden floor. Sticky? Yes because it was covered almost completely by webs old and new from the spider. Here again there were holes in the floor and pulleys on the ceiling that fed the webs from the puppets to the spider’s paws. Puppets there were, many of them in fact - soldiers, sailors, astronauts all dancing slowly around. As the spider manipulated them they bowed to one another or curtseyed or fell over. Some of them seemed to missing a limb and all were shabby; apart from the clowns however, they were also the only other figures in the room - except for the king.
Ah… the King… like everything around him, His Royal Highness William the Xxvi looked old, tired and worn out. His eyes were heavy as they peeped over the wrinkled slope of his nose and from beneath the rolling folds of his brow. His large white beard looked like a duvet for the rest of his face to snuggle under and doze.
The king was not dozing however because Peter could hear him sighing sadly and then yelling in that tetchy voice of his, “hurry up then - entertain me!”
Peter was half sure that nothing could perform such a miracle.
“Where is everybody?” Peter whispered quickly to his fellow clowns.
“Shush!” came the reply, “everyone has left and gone away except us - and we don’t TALK about it!”
So saying, Lord Mortis the clown threw his juggling balls up into the air and they came down hard on Peter’s head.
“Ow!” yelped Peter, “Catch!” yelled the clown.
“It’s a bit late to- ” Peter began - but he was caught by a puppet and spun about in a silent dance step. Of course he tripped over his shoes and sprawled headlong. He heard Yale sound a hooter.
“Very funny!” Peter coughed, wiping the web from his face.
Lord Mortis was close to him again, skating through the web as if it were snow. “Why didn’t you catch?” he muttered, grabbing the boy as he did so. If Peter was glad to be back on his feet the feeling didn’t last - as he found himself flung through the air towards Yale who was pedalling his unicycle as best he could given that it obviously had a flat tyre. “Allez oop!” yelled Mortis.
Unfortunately old Yale was not very quick and he missed the flying boy completely!
“AAAAAAAAaaagh!” yelled Peter crashing heavily into the unicycle.
“AAAAAAAAaaagh!” yelled the clown as he was knocked from his saddle, over the handlebars and into one of the puppets - a puppet that swayed for a moment, swayed again, then slowly began to topple sideways, the old webs snapped and it went crashing into the next puppet - that crashed into the next puppet - and the next and -
The last puppet tumbled backwards into Mortis who skidded in his skates and the tray full of cakes up-ended and they too went flying - one by one as if from a canon and
Splat! Splat! Splat!
they went as they landed on the King, direct hit - right in the face.
“AAAAAAAAaaagh!” Peter cried out, crawling quickly in search of a hiding place.
“AAAAAAAAaaagh!” screamed the clowns.
“AAAAAAAAaaagh!” cried out the spider from somewhere below.
There was a pause.
The clowns began to mutter excuses hurriedly, “… amateur clown - last minute addition - references must have been faked - so sorry… he SAID he was a clown - what a lie, what a whopper!!”
The spider could be heard as well agreeing “Just a thief - a bad liar, a useless thief and a worse clown! Let me eat him!”
There was another pause.
“Ha!” said the King.
The clowns froze.
“HA!” the king repeated - and a little louder. “Ha ha ha ha ha!” he said and now it was clearly a regal sort of chuckle - shortly followed by a full belly laugh!
“HA HA HA!” he went.
The clowns did not know WHAT to do.
“Eat him! Eat him!” The spider was calling up once again.
In the distraction, Young Peter kicked off his clown shoes, held his heavy bag tightly and jumped through one of the floor holes onto the spongy webs below. Not stopping to see if the spider had noticed him, he made a frantic dash across the chamber into the tunnel and away!
Up in the throne room things were still tense…
The King was standing up - something his two loyal clowns barely remembered ever seeing.
“Is it raining out?” inquired the King politely. “Only it might help wash this lot off. One rather feels like a clown” he added, chuckling again.
“I - I believe it Your Majesty,” the clowns answered timorously, “raining, a little.”
“Right then - outside we go, daresay we could use the air.” The King tottered from his throne onto the sticky floor. “Bit of a mess this place,” he noted, “rather let it go haven’t we? Perhaps we should go into town and get some help cleaning up.”
The mouths on the clowns went up and down, like puppets.
……………………
And so it was that a wet and miserable Young Peter was met on the road by the Landlord of the Pig and Whistle. He had been notified of the boy’s approach by spotters placed along the winding paths.
“You look miserable,” he said.
“That’s because I am!” Peter replied unhappily.
“I am a useless thief, a rotten liar and a bad clown too!” he was shaking his head now. “And I’m so tired - even my bag feels heavy like a rock.”
The Landlord grinned. “Young Peter you are wrong in every way. You have told me the truth - and you are indeed a very good thief.”
Peter looked baffled - but the Landlord picked up the boy’s bag from off his shoulders. “Only you are mistaken about this as well.”
The lad screwed up his eyes, feeling very perplexed. “How have I told you the truth - why am I a good thief - and why then does my bag feel so heavy to me?” he asked.
"Did you not look in your bag to see?"
Peter shook his head. "I have done nothing but run as fast as I can!"
The Landlord said "Ah..." and looked for himself inside the bag with a swift sharp glance and then smiled again, saying to Peter; “because you have done I what I asked, when I told you to fetch me the king’s most guarded treasure.”
“I - what?”
“You have stolen for me the King’s broken heart.”
Before the boy could express his astonishment, a breathless spotter ran up to the Landlord with the impossible news that the King was on his way to town.
THE END.
....................
i hope the last part was fun.