by Andy Coffey
Chapter 14 – Ooh, can I have your autograph, please?
‘To good health, to Odin and to all of you, my friends,’ Olaf said, raising his tankard high, before farting loudly. ‘And you, Aiden Peersey, gave us the best sound we’ve ever had on stage, so… to Aiden,’ he added, raising his glass again.
‘Yes, the sound was fantastic,’ Mara said to Aiden, smiling invitingly. ‘You were wonderful.’ Then she turned to Ophelia and whispered ‘I’m going to kiss him afterwards.’
‘Do you have to kiss every nice boy you meet?’ Ophelia whispered back.
‘No, of course not… only the really good looking ones!’
Agnar was sitting next to Roisin, trying to look as appealing as a puppy. ‘Did you enjoy the gig, Roisin?’
‘You were excellent, Agnar. One of your best shows ever.’
‘In which case could I possibly have a celebratory kiss?’
‘No, don’t be so cheeky!’ she said, smacking his hand.
Agnar’s face dropped and he took a dejected slurp from his tankard. ‘He is very sweet, Roisin. And he obviously really likes you,’ Ophelia said to her. ‘Maybe you should give him a chance.’
‘He is sweet, Ophy, but he’s not really my type.’
Unsurprisingly, Sacred Wind were the centre of attention and they were quite happy to shake hands, sign autographs and chat to everybody. ‘Let me through, let me through!’ Mr Kneepatcher shouted, squeezing his way through the throng of people surrounding the table.
‘Ooh, can I have your autograph, please?’ he said, stuffing a photo of the band and a pen into Olaf’s face.’
‘Of, course,’ Olaf said. ‘Who do I make it out to?’
‘To my good friend Gilbert Kneepatcher,’ said Mr Kneepatcher.
Olaf wrote the message on the photo and signed it with a flourish. ‘There you are, and thank you, Gilbert.’
‘He called me Gilbert! He called me Gilbert! Mr Kneepatcher screamed. ‘Ooh, my heart, my heart, I’m all of a dither.’ And then he fainted again.
As the celebrations continued, Aiden noticed the two odd-looking men from room 13 making their way over to the table. ‘I don’t like the look of these two, Oldfart. I think they’re up to something.’
‘My good fellows,’ said Mr Breezy. ‘Firstly, we’d like to congratulate you on a most excellent show.’
‘Indeed,’ added Mr Waft. ‘It was an experience to live long in the memory.’
‘Thank you,’ said Smid.
‘But for us, the piece de resistance…’ said Mr Breezy.
‘The piece de resistance…’ echoed Mr Waft.
‘…was the drumming of Agnar the Hammered. Sir, we salute you.’ Mr Breezy said, doffing his hat and bowing.
‘We salute you,’ echoed Mr Waft, mimicking Mr Breezy’s doff and bow.
Agnar seemed quite taken aback. ‘Well, thank you, gentlemen. Did you like my paradiddles?’
‘Superb,’ said Mr Breezy.
‘Sublime,’ said Mr Waft.
‘And did you notice the snare drags in the verses of “Frigg”?’
‘Almost poetic in their execution,’ Mr Breezy gushed.
‘Poetic indeed,’ gushed Mr Waft.
‘In fact, it would be a great honour if we could possibly spend some time in your company to discuss the finer merits of your playing,’ Mr Breezy said.
‘An honour,’ said Mr Waft.
‘I don’t see why not,’ a particularly flattered Agnar said. ‘Grab yourself a couple of chairs and let’s chat.’
Mr Breezy and Mr Waft listened patiently as Agnar talked them through drum tuning, double-bass drum playing, accidentally hitting your nose with a drumstick, and how he once thought he was having a spiritual experience during a drum solo.
‘Mr the Hammered you are inspiring,’ Mr Breezy complimented. ‘It is surely a rarity to find a drummer who speaks with such intellect, erudition and passion. Why it’s almost intoxicating.’
‘Intoxicating,’ said Mr Waft.
‘But, may we be so bold as to ask you a non-drum related question that pertains to some information we received earlier today?’
Agnar was now very feeling very relaxed in their company, plus the three tankards of ale he’d drunk greatly assisted in loosening his tongue… which needed little encouragement on most occasions anyway. ‘Fire away,’ he said.
‘We are men of many interests, Mr the Hammered.’
‘Many interests,’ Mr Waft echoed.
‘One of these just happens to be a fascination with ancient structures, and we were told that the cheese mine near the Circle of Wind is in your possession now?’
‘That old thing, oh, yes, it was a present from my cousin Angus McSvensson a few years back. Well, I say a present; it was more a request to take care of it.’
‘So you do not actually own the property?’ Mr Breezy said, with a worried sideways glance at Mr Waft.
‘Oh, it’s my mine alright,’ Agnar said. ‘I’ve got the paperwork somewhere. Mind you, I’ve only been inside once and I got chased out by bats.’
Mr Breezy rubbed his chin, feigning being in deep thought. ‘Hmm, it could be that we may be able to help out here,’ he said. ‘A client of ours may be very interested in taking it off your hands, for a good price of course.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t sell it, Angus would kill me,’ Agnar said. ‘Although, I’ve not seen him for a bit so I could always ask him.’
‘No, no,’ Mr Breezy and Mr Waft said together, holding their hands out as if to avert an invisible danger.
‘That will not be necessary,’ Mr Breezy continued. ‘We would not wish to be the cause of any potential family disagreements.’
He looked at Mr Waft and nodded. Mr Waft nodded back. ‘Well, the hour is getting late and we must be up early tomorrow as we have a long journey ahead of us. So, if you don’t mind we’ll take our leave and retire to our room and into the arms of Morpheus.’
‘Oh, well don’t let me keep you, gentlemen,’ Agnar said, winking. ‘Is she a bit of alright, then?’
‘Who?’ Mr Waft said.
‘Morpheus.’
‘You misunderstand, Mr the Hammered,’ Mr Breezy said, laughing. ‘We are simply going to sleep.’
‘Of course, I understand,’ Agnar said, with another wink. ‘Goodnight my friends and may your night be full of pleasure, naughty dreams and fragrant wind.’
‘Good night, Mr the Hammered, it has been a joy to meet you,’ Mr Breezy said, standing up and shaking Agnar’s hand.
‘A joy,’ said Mr Waft. And with that they retired to room 13.
‘What a complete idiot,’ Hob said, as he sat on the bed. ‘This complicates matters a great deal.’
‘I agree,’ said Nob. ‘If he is unwilling to sell the mine, then the Baron may have to take it by force.’
‘I doubt he’d want to do that, the McSvenssons are not people you would wish to cross. However, there may be another solution but we will need to talk to the Baron first.’
‘Would this have anything to do with the tournament?’ Nob said.
‘It would, but we’ll need more information. Let’s get out of here after breakfast tomorrow morning and pay the Baron a visit.’
Down the corridor in room number 4, another conversation was taking place that would also have an impact on the momentous events to come. ‘Your Majesties, it is good that we meet at last,’ said Dr Lamb Dopiaza-Pilau Rice. ‘And may I introduce you to the head of our armed forces, General Beef Madras-Wholegrain Rice.’
‘Yes, it has been too long in coming,’ Vindy replied. ‘And I am delighted to make your acquaintance, General.’
‘The honour is all mine,’ the General replied.
‘Indeed, my good Doctor,’ Tikky said. ‘We meet as friends with a common goal and I hope we will also leave as friends.’
‘If I may,’ the General said, ‘I would like to share some information that has come to light that may force our plans to be expedited.’
‘Go on, General,�
� Tikky said.
The curries were placed strategically on a large table near the window. Greta and Harold sat silently by. ‘Harold, will you please check there is no-one eavesdropping outside the window?’ Vindy said.
‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ Harold replied, pulling back the curtains and looking out the window. ‘It looks clear, Your Majesty.’
‘Please continue, General,’ Vindy said.
‘Mold has been subject to infiltration by two of Blacktie’s spies. We fear they have already informed the Baron of our potential alliance.’
‘That’s not good,’ said Tikky.
‘Indeed,’ continued the General. ‘We may need to move sooner than we would have wished. As we speak, I have four battalions of our finest Spiced Chapatis, three battalions of Garlic Naans, four battalions of Samosa Commandoes, and our own Rogan Josh Imperial Guard ready to move. We could be at Chester within the day. If you could provide a similar force I feel we could take the city.’
‘General, I do not doubt the quality and bravery of your forces, or of ours,’ Saffy said, ‘but to simply attempt to take the city in this way at present would be currycide.’
‘Why so? We’re led to believe that the Knights of Flatulence are engaged in the Scouseland Crusades. The city’s defences are severely weakened by their absence.’
‘Who told you that, General?’ Saffy said. ‘The Knights returned to Chester last week. If I were you I’d check your sources more carefully, and if I didn’t know better I’d say you may have a saboteur in your ranks.’
‘Did the information come from the Brotherhood, by any chance?’ Dr Lamb Dopiaza-Pilau Rice asked.
‘Yes,’ replied the General.
‘You suspect someone, Doctor?’ Vindy said.
‘Sadly, yes. Not all view this alliance of ours as salubrious. There is one in particular who has been most vocal in his opposition. He also holds supreme influence over the Brotherhood, and he advocates conflict with Wrexham as opposed to unity. If this is part of some subterfuge of his creation then I would guess that Your Majesties’ safety may also be in jeopardy.’
‘Whom do you speak of, Doctor?’ Saffy said, angrily crunching a mini poppadom. ‘I would seek words with this insolent and no doubt tasteless curry.’
‘He was once a holy curry, a member of the Order of Dhansak. These were curried monks pledged to live the simple life. They gave up their spices, dispensing with fineries like Basil, Sage and Chives, and sought solace in prayer and meditation. Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice was once a shining light in the Order, but something or someone turned him against the holy ways.’
‘So now we have enemies within our own community,’ said the General. ‘These are sad times to be a curry.’
‘At least we seemed to have foiled this particular plot,’ Tikky said. ‘And I’m sure you gentlemen will be doing your utmost to have a talk with this “monk” when you return.’
‘I think Your Majesty can rely on that,’ said the Doctor.
Downstairs, things were starting to wind down. Most folk had now left the pub and Aiden was beginning to feel very tired and slightly tipsy. He hadn’t drunk that much, but the drink had gone straight to his head and he felt it was time to retire.
‘Oh, you can’t leave so soon,’ Mara said, grabbing his arm as he got up off the chair.
‘I’m sorry, Mara. You’ve all been delightful company but I’m absolutely beat. I’m sure we’ll all meet again soon.’
‘Well, here’s something to remember me by,’ she said, pulling him towards her and placing a lingering kiss on his lips. By the time she’d finished he was bright red and the table was full of smiles.
‘Mr Aiden Peersey, you may consider yourself to be an honorary member of Sacred Wind,’ Olaf said, raising his tankard again. ‘So, to Aiden, the finest scruffy-haired mixing engineer we’ve ever had.’
‘To Aiden,’ everyone on the table said, raising their glasses and tankards in salute.
‘Goodnight, Aiden. I wish you sweet dreams,’ Mara said, waving as he walked up the stairs to his room.
And so, as he climbed into bed and fell asleep almost immediately, the strangest day in Aiden Peersey’s life so far came to an end. He didn’t know at the time, but as strange as this day had been, there would be even stranger days ahead.