Sacred Wind: Book 1

by Andy Coffey

  Chapter 10 – Would sir like a cravat with that?

  ‘So what is it that sir is looking for exactly?’ Mr Kneepatcher quizzed, his tape measure draped around his neck and his glasses perched on the end of his long nose.

  ‘A couple of pairs of pants, jeans preferably, some t-shirts, socks, underwear, a shirt, a pair of boots and perhaps a jacket,’ Aiden replied, as the pound signs began to light up in Mr Kneepatcher’s eyes.

  ‘Of course, sir, of course, absolutely-dutely,’ Mr Kneepatcher gushed, as he pulled the tape measure from around his neck. ‘Please come this way so I can take sir’s measurements. Has sir had a good day?’

  ‘It’s been interesting,’ Aiden replied.

  ‘Is sir going to the concert at The Sheep’s Stirrup tonight, to see Sacred Wind?’ Mr Kneepatcher said, as he took Aiden’s inside leg measurement. ‘Ooh, I do love those Viking costumes. They make me go all of a dither!’

  ‘Yes, I am, as a matter of fact. I’ve heard they’re very good.’

  ‘Oh, they are, sir,’ Mr Kneepatcher said, putting the tape measure around Aiden’s chest. ‘That Olaf, the singer, he gives me goosebumps when he sings the high notes in the big ballads. Mind you, I’m not surprised when his trousers are that tight. I swear I just go to putty.’

  As Aiden was being measured up for just about everything, he looked out of the shop window. The Hefty Swingers had used many different methods of transporting equipment to gigs in the past; vans, cars, even by train once. However, he was pretty sure they’d never used a horse and cart.

  ‘Watch out for that pothole, Smid, my right bass drum nearly jumped out of the cart last time,’ Agnar the Hammered shouted, from the back of the cart.

  ‘We’ll be fine, Agnar, Smid the Merciless said. ‘The suspension’s been fixed and old Bertha’s calmed down a bit now that stallion’s not in the field next to the pub anymore.’

  ‘I do hope Roisin will be there tonight,’ Agnar said, with a dreamy look.

  ‘Oh, you’re not still trying to woo her, are you?’ said Grundi the Windy. ‘She’s out of your league.’

  ‘Aw, now c’mon, Grundi,’ Agnar said. ‘She smiled at me the last time we played here.’

  ‘I think that may have been wind, my friend,’ Smid laughed. ‘Anyway, didn’t she say she was happy just being friends? That’s what girls say when they don’t fancy you. I mean, how many times have you asked her out?’

  ‘Twenty-four,’ said Agnar. ‘But they do say that Odin loves a trier.’

  ‘Well, maybe you’d have more luck asking Odin out,’ said Grundi.

  ‘Knowing my luck he’d be washing his bloody hair as well!’

  The three band mates laughed heartily as the cart pulled up outside The Sheep’s Stirrup. ‘Whoa, Bertha,’ said Smid, pulling on the reigns.

  ‘What time did Olaf say he’d be here, Grundi?’ Agnar said, as he grabbed one of the large PA speakers from the back of the cart.

  ‘Anytime now, I would think. He went round to see Ophelia earlier this afternoon. She’d promised to shine his helmet again.’

  ‘Maybe I should ask Roisin to shine my helmet,’ Agnar suggested.

  ‘I really wouldn’t,’ Smid advised.

  Mr Kneepatcher was also very keen on helmets, particularly selling them, and he passed one to Aiden. ‘No, thanks, I don’t really think it’s me,’ Aiden said, looking at the cone-shaped, metal headwear.

  ‘Oh come now, sir, I think you’d look very dashing. Just give it a quick go,’ he enthused, trying to place it on Aiden’s head.

  ‘Honestly, no thanks, but I would like to have a look at that jacket, though,’ Aiden said, pointing to a thick, brown leather coat that had more pockets than one would ever really need.

  Mr Kneepatcher flamboyantly threw the helmet onto a handily placed sofa and smiled the smile of a shopkeeper whose customer had asked to see something expensive. ‘Of course, sir, your taste is divine,’ he said.

  ‘Now,’ Mr Kneepatcher cooed, ‘this princely garment has been fashioned from only the finest Scottish leather. It was tanned by an ancient family of Scottish tanners, who ate only haggis for supper and whisky porridge for breakfast during the process. The leather was ripened in the glens of the highlands and then taken over foggy lochs in rowing boats, where seagulls would sing to it. Then it bore witness to the sacrifice of a virgin haggis and the ceremonial burning of the boots of Old Charlie McSniffysoles. Finally, it was serenaded by a lone piper in the light of the full moon before being tanned to perfection. It’s easy on the eye, comfortable as the warmest faerie’s bed and tough as sheep’s hooves.’

  ‘How much?’ Aiden asked, as Mr Kneepatcher helped him put the jacket on.

  ‘To you, sir, £40.’

  ‘Well, I am buying quite a few other items,’ Aiden said, feeling the need to haggle, ‘so why don’t we say £25?’

  Mr Kneepatcher developed a nervous twitch in his right eye and a few beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. ‘Did I tell you the lining has been blessed by the Avuncular Monks of Lothian, and that it has been stitched with the finest thread by the Uncanny Old Ladies of Inverness.’

  ‘£25,’ Aiden said again.

  ‘£35 and I’ll let you have a free pocket knife.’

  ‘£30, but I’ll still take the pocket knife.’

  Mr Kneepatcher shook his head with the look of a man who had actually got the price he really wanted. ‘You drive a hard bargain, but £30 it is.’

  ‘We have a deal,’ Aiden said, shaking Mr Kneepatcher’s hand.

  ‘Wonderful!’ Mr Kneepatcher said, clapping his hands together. ‘Now, would sir like a cravat with that?’

  As Aiden walked back to The Sheep’s Stirrup he was thinking about Humphrey. He knew that Mrs Perriwinkle would look after the little dog until he could return home, and she’d give him a hard time for leaving Humphrey alone for so long. A nice box of chocolate gingers would probably soften the level of Mrs Perriwinkle’s scolding, and he’d make it up to Humphrey by taking him on a really long walk, including canal swimming, and buy him some serious doggy treats, maybe even some steak.

  And so, feeling slightly better, Aiden crossed the road in front of the pub, just as the sun began to set. In the clear sky above, the first speckles of starlight appeared, like the distant lanterns of faraway travellers. He drew in a long breath from the clean, crisp air and smiled; blissfully unaware that this was actually the calm before the storm.