xxxi
VEDA slipped into a black dress and high-heeled shoes, brushed her red-brown hair, applies a little black eye-liner, a twist of red lipstick, a dab of cologne and fitted a pair of ear-rings. As she was leaving the room, she noticed the card on the mini-bar.
Joshua's skill
At the top of the hill
The trumpets and horns a-blazing
Brought Jericho down,
Its walls to the ground,
In a miracle quite amazing...
Coincidences no longer surprised her. She had also seen the calendar. The picture for July was a jay-bird. October's pin-up was St Justus of Beauvais.
St Justus (born 278 at Auxerre in France, died 285 at Beauvais, France) At the time of the Diocletian persecution, Justus and his father went to Amiens to ransom an imprisoned relative. Whilst there, Justus was denounced to the authorities as a Christian magician. When confronted, Justus declared his faith and was immediately executed. Legend says that the body then stood up, the severed head in its hands, and began preaching to the pagans. Relics lie in Zutphen, Netherlands where, in the fifteenth century, a confraternity of Ewald and Justus was formed. The Walburgiskirk in Zutphen contains a sequence, hymn and office written by Johannes Scouto. Feast Day is October 18th (October 11th in Zutphen).
Damned Dutchies.
Mr December was
St Justinian (Jestyn or Iestyn) born 6th century Brittany, a well-educated noble who left his country to become a travelling evangelist. Settled on Ramsey Island near Fishguard and visited St David of Wales who was so impressed with his piety (he had banished women from Ramsey Island) that he gave him hermitages on the mainland. Once some sailors landed at the island hermitage and told him that David was very sick and that Justinian was to go to him. En route, he discovered the sailors were devils in disguise. He recited Psalm 79, the devils changed into blackbirds or jackdaws and flew away. Justinian found David in excellent health.
Justinian died when his servants were goaded by devils to attack and behead him. At the place where the body fell, a spring of healing water emerged from the ground. The killers were struck with leprosy and hid in the caves. St David buried Justinian in his own church. Feast Day is December 5th.
She locked the door of Room No. 42, went down the stairs and paused to examine two prints on the wall showing two boys in eighteenth century clothing. They were depictions of Charles Edward and Henry Stuart, the then nine- and four-year old grandsons of James II, painted in 1729 by Antonio David. A note informed her that the originals belong to the National Portrait Gallery but hang obscurely in Beningborough Hall near York where no-one will ever see them. Likewise the tombs of James III or VIII and these two sons lie under the high altar in Rome's St Peter's Basilica, the Vatican Julians reclaiming their own.
Veda shrugged, entered the lounge bar and froze. She was wrong. Things did still surprise her after all.
"Well done, Veda," said Jumbuck Jorum. "You made it."
She was swamped by familiar figures, hugs and kisses. Jarrah Jambres even removed his pipe and wafted away its sweet-smelling, black-cherry clouds. Mrs Jambres had tucked her wispy brown hair up into a somewhat battered straw-bonnet. She gave a warm, fur-toothed smile. Jerboa Jenneting, dressed in an ill-fitting green sweater and best brown cords, looked at Veda solemnly and told her that, in a recent survey, 51% of a sample of 1000 householders preferred apple white paint on their skirting boards to any other colour, with ivory (42%) being the second choice. Jerboa was holding Jacaranda Jezail by the hand (or maybe it was the other way around). Jackie, wearing a pale yellow frock, grinning toothily. Veda asked after Jake. He was, apparently, well.
"Has he stopped sulking yet?" asked Veda.
"We gave him some new weed and a castle to play in," said Jackie. "Incidentally, on July 1st 1994, Batley Grammar School played the M.C.C. The Visitors batted first and declared at 284-4, leaving Batley 2¼ hours, or 142 minutes, to win the game. The Batley opener hit 205 not out with 15 fours and eight sixes in a victory total of 285-7."
Mr Jambres crushed Veda in an embrace. "It's so good to see you," he bawled.
"Yeah," Veda said weakly. "How's the choral society?"
"They're singing tomorrow," he told her proudly, "An anthem by Grundy."
"Jazey's here," grinned Jerboa Jenneting. "I think he's brought some leeks... ow!"
Mrs Jambres had slapped him on the wrist. "Jazey's working," she said, "With the Beads. And the..."
"Bedes," said Veda. "Yeah. I know."
Jequirity Jimp smiled and waved. Jonquil Jabot and Jeoffrey bobbed a greeting.
"How's the opera, Jerboa?" Veda enquired.
"Bifurcating," Jerboa replied, "Into a sequel." He trilled her a line–
griiiiid
"The -ear
recti-
axis
of a
lin
''Lovely,'' she lied.
"You've arrived in time for the Bean Feast," smiled Jumbuck. "It seems I am become the Bean-King or the Jack of the Bean-Stalk." He nodded graciously towards the Jimps. "You remember Jacob Jordaens, don't you?"
The tableau was indeed reminiscent of the Flemish artist's famous painting. Jumbuck was seated at the table among a crowd of revellers, an enormous pie in front of him, a crown on his head and a glass in his hand. He was wearing Highland dress, a kilt in bold red tartans, a white shirt with flamboyant ruffles, thick white socks and a black jacket.
"Yes," said Veda uncertainly.
"Come on, come join us," said Jumbuck. Jemadar Jannock pushed a wine glass into her hand. "Drink and relax."
As she took a sip, the revellers burst unwelcomingly into a familiar song-
I'll be hanged for a sheep if not for the King
Freedom is our prizes
Till the '88 seals our fate
Hooray for the Bloody Assizes!
"I knew you were the King," said Veda smugly.
"I am the Bean King," he replied tartly. "It's not the same thing." He gestured to the man on his left. "You know Jötun Jukes, I believe."
The _est agent who'd sold her Jasmine Cottage smiled a smile of self-congratulation.
"And this," Jorum ruffled the blond hair of a young boy, "Is Josh."
"Hi, Josh." She smiled at the boy. At last they have met.
"This is for you." The boy handed her a piece of paper
"It's for the fanfares," he explained, "To blast away the walls that imprison us."
"Uhuh," said Veda. Josh. Joshua. At the Battle of Jericho. Uh. The card in her room. "Thanks." The boy merely blinked his blue eyes. "You drew the aeroplane in my cottage?"
"The jumbo jet was for Veda's Journey," he said cryptically.
№. 1. Joshua Jukes, child.
is the only son of _est agent Jotun Jukes (see sep. entry) and partner in the business. He is a collector of clockwork trains which he winds up and sends running round tracks laid down in his bedroom. The journey follows strict timetables and proceeds over hills, across rivers and seas, round bends and through tunnels cunningly constructed out of appropriately painted papier-mâché. Josh becomes very upset if a train derails or its clockwork mechanism gives up before journey’s end. Joshua is also a lover of jazz, Klezmer and Roman armour and an avid collector of bad jokes and shaggy dog stories. One of his favourite jokes is-
Knock knock
Who’s there?
Orange
Orange Who?
Orange a party. I’m home.
As a result of this joke, Josh was sent by his schoolteachers to a psychiatrist who asked him to
name, in forty-two seconds, as many of the sixteen Biblical Patriarchs as possible.
JaphethJesseJonahJude
Joshua JaelJosiahJehu
JeroboamJeremiahJoelJames
JudahJonathanJobJerome
He succeeded.
Josh’s main pursuit is the collection and distribution of photographic
fragments. One such fragment shows only a foot. Another shows half a head. He does not suffer from paedojeliphobia and is in fact an enthusiastic consumer of jelly babies. Mind you, he is only 9. Josh is the owner of a cat called Fleecy, on account of its golden colour, and a jay named Cyril. He also plays the trumpet very loudly, as his neighbours have testified.
"And Tabitha Thomas you know." Jorum continued to introduce the people at the table. "Iestyn's mother."
Veda blushed again. The woman was staring at the jacobus round her neck. It seemed to burn against her skin. She didn't really know what to say. 'Hi, Mrs Thomas. Your fourteen year old son left this by my bed. Oh, by the way, he was bloody good.' Perhaps not. "What's the significance of 1976?" she blurted, trying to distract attention.
"The Year of the Jabberwock," said Jötun Jukes. "Officially, the Year of the Dragon, but Dragons and Jabberwocks are pretty much the same thing."
"Excuse me..." Tabitha Thomas was leaning forward, staring at the silver jacobus. "That looks like my son's."
"Errr... ha ha ha..." Veda's face was on fire. "Well..."
"Where is Iestyn?" asked Josh. "I want to tell him my new joke. Knock knock."
"Who's there?" answered Veda, glad of the distraction.
"Jester."
"Jester who?"
"Jester minute. I'll come in a jiffy.''
Oh my.
"He's rehearsing with Jazey Joskin," said the Jigsaw-Maker, "Running through some lines for tomorrow."
"This is the first coronation for forty-two years," said Jumbuck. "And we have you to thank for it."
"I did nothing," said Veda, "Except become involved."
"And that, my dear, is all it takes," said Jumbuck.
"That coin..." Tabitha Thomas again.
Enough Verbal Jousting.
"Yes, it's your son's. I shagged him yesterday."
Tabby Thomas gasped as the bar erupted into a wild, celebratory Victory Jingle
"Everything's cool when we're joshing with josh"
Later, when she unlocked the door to Room 42, Veda felt mildly drunk and very exhausted. In her hand she held the last edition of the Herald and Bugle.
Return of Explorer with Ancient Discovery
Jack and Jill really existed, says cultural historian
Jack and Jill, made famous through a nursery rhyme, were real people. The rhyme itself,
"Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water;
Jack fell down and broke his crown
But Jill came tumbling after."
is more than a nursery rhyme. It is in fact a shortened account of an ancient battle, something like a war correspondent's dispatch from the front.
The astonishing claim was made by cultural historian Jequirity Jimp today on a hillside in Junggdar Pendi, Northern India. Professor Jimp, who holds the Jorum Chair of Cultural Studies at Jennyfield College, has discovered an ancient Gujarat manuscript which tells the story of a 5th century BC battle between Mongol adventurer Jangshir Khan and Tibetan monk Jiu Lan. Jiu's monastery was at the top of a hill. Jangshir Khan led an assault up hill which exhausted his men to such a degree that Jiu Lan's monks were able to massacre them with ease. Jangshir Khan was thus sent reeling down the hill, his crown split with an axe. Jiu Lan was overthrown soon after, assassinated by his right-hand man, To-Ma-Soon, who went on to conquer most of Western Mongolia.
"It is a very exciting discovery," said Professor Jimp. "It confirms my beliefs that many of our cultural myths and nursery rhyme legends are in fact related to actual events and drawn from other nations and civilisations." This is a translation of the rhyme:
Jangshir Khan
Picked up his arms
And rode up the hill
To meet Jiu Lan.
His horses
Exhausted
And Jangshir fell down
An axe through his crown
But Jiu Lan tumbled soon after.
Veda snorted, unwilling to believe. Light flooded out from the bathroom. She could smell soap. Someone was singing in her bathroom-
Hey Mr Koan,
Your logic's a-showin'
You've got sump'n new
But she only says 'MU'
Oh Mr Koan
Whatcha gonna do?
Two grey trainers lay side-by-side on the mat.
Strewn on her bed were
A pair of blue jeans,
two crumpled white socks,
maroon and orange boxer shorts,
a red Wales rugby shirt.
Veda's heart soared. Maybe she should believe.
Iestyn Thomas was sitting in the jacuzzi, soap-suds bubbling under his armpits. His left hand was behind his head. His right held a glass of champagne. The bottle rested in an ice-bucket behind the taps.
"I felt like a bath," he said.
"At one in the morning?" Veda trod on a glossy magazine which lay crumpled and creased on the tiles.
JugFests 'Я' Us, she read.
The magazine was open at a huge picture of Plesantly Bulging, naked, leaning forward, vast, melon breasts thrusting forward, pink-glossed lips parted provocatively, tip of her tongue stretched out towards a naked, peeled banana.
"God, Iestyn," she said, disgusted. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"
"A boy's gotta do what a boy's gotta do," he replied. "Pictures help but it's not like the real thing." He smiled and sipped his champagne. "This jacuzzi's great, though I need a hand to make my soap lather."
Veda laughed. "Your mother's downstairs."
"She can stay there. Champagne for a coronation. It's very cold and very good." Iestyn sipped from his glass again. "I've had to put up with Jazey Joskin and his sheepskins and leeks for the past hour. I'm parched. Well, you know what he's like."
Veda tried to banish the picture - Iestyn wrapped up in a sheepskin rug being thrashed with a leek - but...
"This is becoming a habit." She kicked off her shoes.
"What? The sheepskins and leeks?" Iestyn jested.
"No, this." The black dress rustled into a heap at her feet. She removed the silver jacobus. "This is yours," she said.
He surged out of the foamy water and kissed her firmly on the lips. "Keep it, in memory of me." He replaced it round her neck and slung Plesantly Bulging across the bathroom. "Stop thinking, start drinking and join me in the jacuzzi." She stepped into the bubbles. "One moment of this night is worth a thousand gold bars."
"You were the flower-boy at Jervaulx," said Veda.
"Noh," he smiled. The JASOn tattoo peeped through the marbling suds.
"This was all engineered," Veda said sadly, "Everything, from meeting Jules to meeting you - nothing happened by chance, did it?"
"Nothing," said Iestyn. "It was all planned a long time ago. Jasmine Cottage?"
"Yes." She felt a wave of despair. Even in buying her beautiful house she had been manipulated by JASOn. "But who engineered it? Who laid the plans?"
Iestyn smiled gently. "Who sent you to the theatre? Who sent you to the maps? Who gave you the job?"
The Editor. Veda groaned. The Editor had manipulated her life. She didn't even know his name. He was just… The Editor. And he had edited her life.
"Don't be sad, Veda." Iestyn settled back into the bubbles and pours more champagne. "You’ve played a part in something great. By the way, I need to thank you for what you did for Jargo. He is recovering well. You can see him tomorrow. Do you know what July 25th is?"
"The feast day of Saint James the Great, or St James the Pilgrim," said Veda.
"Well," said Iestyn, "You have been a pilgrim, and you have learned so much, as have we all. It's been such a Valuable Journey." Veda tried to smile. ''Cheer up,'' said Iestyn, clinking the champagne flutes. ''It's not often you get to be part of history.''
''But whose history?'' asked Veda.
''Does it matter?'' Iestyn kissed her lips. ''Just enjoy the moment.'' Together they sank down into the bubbles.
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