by Andy Coffey
Chapter 27 – Have you prepared the room for the press conference?
As Ethel drifted peacefully up the River Dee, conversation between the Companionship of Wind was as light and warm as the sun on a particularly sunny day, which, of course, it was.
Aiden thought that he’d take the opportunity to have a chat with Smid. The bass player was amiable enough, but was quieter than the somewhat more extravert Grundi, which wasn’t too much of a surprise to Aiden. It didn’t seem to matter which universe you were in, the general personalities of musicians seemed to be consistent, and in Aiden’s experience bass players were often more thoughtful and reserved. What Aiden was unaware of was Smid’s background, which did come as a surprise.
‘So you were a pig herder?’
‘Indeed, I was. Born and bred, believe it or not,’ Smid said.
‘If you don’t mind me saying, it’s a bit of a career change. What prompted that?’
‘Well,’ Smid explained, ‘it reached the point where I felt more like a jailer. Pigs here are nearly as clever as sheep and one day I just felt it was time to let them all go.’
‘But were they not happy?’ Charles asked, as he and Cliff listened nearby. ‘You sound like you were very fond of them.’
‘Oh, I was,’ Smid said, with a faraway look in his eyes. ‘I cared for each and every one of them, raised them all from little piglets. But, I woke up one day and just knew that it was time to give them their freedom. So I opened the gate of the pig pen and just left it open. They didn’t all leave straight away, mind. Some thanked me and left on the same day; others felt no immediate obligation to leave but did so over the next couple of weeks. At the end of the month there was only one sow and her piglet left.’
‘Why hadn’t they left with the others?’ Cliff asked.
‘I think that Mary, the sow, would have left on the first day. It was her piglet that didn’t want to leave. When I asked her why, she said that he’d never known his father and had said that he couldn’t imagine anyone being as loving or as kind to him as I had been.’ There were tears in his eyes, and Aiden placed a hand on his shoulder.
‘Anyway,’ Smid continued, ‘I sat down with him one day and said that, as much as I loved him, this was a chance for him and his mum to build a new life; a life where they were free to go and do as they pleased. He loved his mum very much and he knew it was the right thing to do. I woke up the next morning and the pig pen was empty, although he’d written a little note for me.’
‘What did it say?’ Aiden asked.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Smid, pulling an envelope from his inside jacket pocket, ‘I’ve never opened it. I’m not sure that I can.’
A single tear rolled down Smid’s cheek and he wiped it with his hand. ‘So, I got back into my warrior’s clothes, sharpened my axe, bought a bass guitar and joined the greatest Welsh Viking Flatulence Rock band there’s ever been,’ he said, smiling. ‘It just seemed like the sensible thing do.’
‘Naturally,’ Aiden said, returning the smile.
‘I still miss little Crusher, though. I often wonder where he ended up and whether he’s alright.’
As Ethel continued her passage unabated, the sound of splashing water providing a soothing sonic accompaniment to the singing of birds, there were things lurking on the bank in the shadows.
‘Don’t get too close, they may catch sight of us,’ Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice hissed at his servant, who was kneeling by the bank holding him aloft*.
‘Lieutenant, have your troops arrived yet?’ he asked of Lieutenant Saag Bhaji.
‘On the other side of the river are a company of your loyal Peshwari Naans, under my command, Brother,’ the Lieutenant said. ‘They are supported by a company of crack Garlic and Butter Chapattis, led by Major Mushroom Bhaji. I expect Lieutenant Shami Kebab and his Meat and Vegetable Samosas to join with us on this side of the river within the hour.’
‘Excellent, Lieutenant,’ said Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice, steaming slightly. ‘And are our “special guests” still on time to rendezvous with us at The Pig’s Trotters?’
‘My recent communication indicates that this is the case, but I’m still not sure it is wise to engage with foreigners, Brother.’
‘Nonsense, Lieutenant,’ Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice said, splashing his carrots. ‘I have assurance from General Kung Po Chicken himself that he is with us all the way. Whilst we have not always seen rice to rice with the Chinese, this is an alliance forged upon mutual interests.’
‘But the General has despatched his fiercest and most uncontrollable troops, the “Wild Chinese hors d’ Oeuvres”. They are a mixture of Shaolin Crispy Won Tons, Ninja Vegetable Spring Rolls and, most worryingly of all, a platoon of Samurai Deep Fried Crab’s Claws. If they turn on us things could get very messy, Brother.’
‘They won’t, Lieutenant. I understand your concern, but I can assure you that we are all together as one fighting force. And victory will be ours this night.’