Sacred Wind: Book 2
Page 18
Chapter 24 – I had no idea you had such a fondness for old condiments
‘So, did Her Majesty sleep well?’ the Baron asked, reclining on a plush chaise longue, as Ophelia was led into the palace morning room by Pimple and Grunt.
‘As well as can be expected for one who was drugged, abducted and is now comb-less,’ she replied, defiantly.
‘Ah, I can see that you’re not completely smitten with our hospitality yet. But fear not, we have a host of delights that will change your mind over the next couple of days. Ah, and I’m forgetting my manners, would you like some breakfast?’
‘I’m not feeling very hungry at the moment, for some reason.’
The Baron waved his hand in a kind of shrugging motion. ‘No matter, but do ask Pimple if you start feeling a bit peckish as the day goes on.’
‘Look, Baron,’ Ophelia said, between gritted teeth, ‘would you do me the honour of explaining just exactly why I am here?’
The Baron stood up and straightened his cloak, before walking around behind the tiny queen. Then he stooped slightly and spoke over her shoulder. ‘I would love to say that I’ve chosen you to be my bride and that you are to live here by my side for the rest of your days, forever enamoured and lost in matrimonial bliss.’
‘I would rather die, or never see my comb and handbag again, than be at your side, you grotesque monstrosity! You have all the charm of a decrepit snake and all the sex appeal of an unsightly, pink-bottomed baboon.’
‘I think that’s almost a compliment,’ Pimple whispered to Grunt, who nodded his agreement.
‘Yes, I anticipated a response of that nature,’ the Baron said, with a chuckle. ‘Although I will admit that I was impressed by the imagination of the insults. But, as I was saying, I would love that this untimely abduction was perpetrated to whisk you away to be my bride… but I’m afraid I cannot. You will be relieved to know I have no intention of marrying you.’
Ophelia said nothing, but continued to view the Baron with disdain and loathing. ‘No, my dear Queen Ophelia, you are here as leverage.’
‘Leverage?’
‘Oh, yes,’ the Baron continued. ‘Around about now, I would think, your tall, hairy boyfriend and his band of miscreant metal merchants will begin their voyage down the River Dee to Chester, to take part in the Cestrian Music Tournament tomorrow. Now, I have no intention of allowing them into the city and staining my tournament with that tuneless garbage they purvey as music —‘
‘That’s unfair, they’re really good,’ Ophelia interrupted.
‘— TUNELESS GARBAGE THEY PURVEY AS MUSIC!’ the Baron screamed, his face red and contorted with rage.
‘But,’ he continued, calming down, ‘I do wish to appropriate their cheese mine, which will legally be my property if they fail to win the tournament. So you see, if by some miracle they actually manage to get here in time to play, I need to ensure that they do not play to win, if you get my drift.’
‘What’s so special about this cheese mine that requires you to create this elaborate charade?’ Ophelia asked. ‘I mean, from what Agnar tells me, there’s no cheese of any worth in there anyway.’
The Baron smiled a particularly wicked and knowing smile. Then he walked over to a picture on the wall and removed it. Behind the picture was the door to a safe. The Baron continued speaking whilst he fed in the combination.
‘Ah, that’s not quite true, you see,’ he said, turning the dial and popping open the door. ‘That mine contains a very special cheese. It is true that the cheese itself is little more than a pleasant, tasty morsel. But I have good reason to believe that when it is combined with this particular condiment, it will not only create a taste sensation but some of the side effects could be most interesting.’
The Baron reached inside the safe and pulled out a large, dusty jar with a yellow label. ‘Have you any idea what this is?’ he asked the Queen.
‘Not at all, but I’d be surprised if it’s still in date,’ she replied.
‘This is Mathonwy’s Chutney, my dear Ophelia. It doesn’t need to be in date.’
‘Well, if it’s full of preservatives you should steer clear of it,’ Ophelia said. ‘You should try more natural food, like nuts. I love nuts.’
‘Grunt like nuts too,’ said Grunt, as Ophelia smiled sweetly at him.
The Baron turned his eyes skyward in search of divine inspiration but the ceiling was in the way, so he kicked a well-placed waste basket instead. ‘If I didn’t need you in one piece, you would find that the reward for your irreverence would be extremely unpleasant,’ he growled. ‘And I can guarantee you will not be quite so flippant in your remarks two days hence. Now, as I was saying, this is Mathonwy’s Chutney and it is, to the best of my considerable knowledge, the only remaining jar in all the land.’
‘I apologise, Baron,’ Ophelia said with a semblance of sincerity.
‘Apology accepted.’
‘I had no idea you had such a fondness for old condiments. It explains a lot about your personality, and your smell.’
‘Don’t push me too far, my little faerie queen,’ the Baron said, giving her a stare that would freeze hot coals. ‘If my patience wears thin, I may decide to concoct a different approach that finds you surplus to requirements, if you get my meaning.’
The Queen realised that overstepping the mark any further would not be wise, and would greatly diminish the chances of being successfully reunited with her comb. Or she could be killed, which would be nearly as bad. ‘Okay,’ she said, adopting a more congenial stance. ‘Tell me about the chutney, I can see you’re very proud of it.’
The Baron stroked the jar with genuine tenderness and held it tight to his chest. ‘Many years ago there was a great wizard called Scratchy Crotch. Do you recognise the name?’
‘Yes, from my lessons when I was younger. I seem to remember he was an evil wizard from Bala,’ the Queen replied.
‘Oh, not just any old evil wizard,’ the Baron continued. ‘He was the most powerful wizard who ever lived. Why if it wasn’t for all the embroidery he may still be alive to this day.’
The Queen looked at Pimple and Grunt but they both shrugged, signalling that her ignorance was not singular.
‘He never revealed the secret of his power, you know,’ the Baron said, hinting that he may be about to do just that. ‘Now, bear with me a second, I just need to go and get a book from the throne room,’ he said, carefully putting down the jar on a table.
In less than a minute he returned, with a large and very old, leather-bound book, which he placed on the table next to the jar. ‘Come over here, my dear. I’d like you to read something,’ he said, with a grin that an egotistical and particularly sadistic snake would have been proud of. ‘Firstly, can you read the title?’
Ophelia peered at the embossed letters on the front of the book. ‘It says “The Cookbook of the Damned”.’
‘Very good. Now open the cover and read the first page,’ the Baron urged, walking into the centre of the room.
The Queen did as she was told, and the large cover threw dust into the air as it smacked heavily down on the table. ‘Well?’ the Baron quizzed as the Queen studied the text.
‘It says “This book belongs to Scratchy Crotch. If found, please return to The Castle of Evil, 26 Darkstain Lane, Bala”.’
‘Not that page!’ the Baron screamed, ‘The adjacent page!’
‘Oh, it says “Rancorous Recipes for Really, Really Bad People”.’
‘It does, indeed. Now if you’ll be so kind as to turn to page 224 and read aloud.’
Ophelia turned to the relevant page and stared hard at the faded words. ‘It’s difficult to make out but I’ll try. It reads “Wizard’s Winkles. Take three freshly prepared testicles, cover in batter, apply a dash of cinnamon, place into an over-proof dish, add two knobs of garlic butter and cook for an hour at gas mark 5, stirring occasionally”.’
‘Oh, sorry,’ said the Baron, ‘it’s actually 226. I always get the pages mixed up.’
‘That’s correct, dear Queen. Read it for my pleasure.’
As Ophelia began to read, her eyes grew wide in tandem with the Baron’s wicked smile. She finished the passage and closed the book, sending more dust up into the air, which shimmered in the light as it fluttered downwards. ‘Th-this cannot be true!’ she exclaimed, a look of horror on her beautiful face.
‘Actually, I think you’ll find it is, Queen Ophelia. And when my hirelings, Hob and Nob, return tomorrow with a piece of Ceridwen’s Cheese, I think we can perhaps give this recipe a whirl.’
‘You can’t! We’ll find a way to stop you, you monster!’ the Queen screamed, rushing at the Baron, before being held back quite firmly by Pimple.
‘I think it’s time you went back to your room now, Your Majesty,’ the Baron said. ‘I’m sure all this excitement has made you weary. Pimple, Grunt, escort Her Majesty back to her quarters. Oh, and give her some nuts when you get there, there’s much she needs to chew on.’