The Boy Who Was Wanted Dead Or Alive - Or Both

by Dominic Barker

  Capablanca puffed out his chest with pride.

  ‘All the wizards present, even those who had previously been my enemies, were forced to admit that I had saved the world.’

  ‘I thought I saved the world,’ said Blart.

  ‘I thought we were in this mess because it turns out nobody had saved the world,’ remarked Uther.

  Capablanca looked peeved at having his glorious memories clouded by inconvenient facts.

  ‘At the time,’ he insisted, ‘everybody thought I had saved the world and the wizards declared three days of feasting to celebrate my achievement and announced that I would have a commemorative chair placed in the Cavernous Library of Ping, which would be made to measure by the finest furniture makers to ensure it was shaped precisely to fit the contours of my buttocks, so I never again would suffer discomfort during my research.’

  ‘You had a chair named after you,’ said Blart scornfully.

  ‘It was my finest hour,’ remembered Capablanca wistfully. ‘Just as it was my lowest moment when, after the discovery of my slight misunderstanding in the case of Zoltab’s prophecy, the wizards on the Oversight Committee had the chair chopped into firewood and burnt. But I promise you that one day those furniture makers will once again have to take precise measurements of my buttocks and build an even grander chair.’

  ‘When I asked what happened,’ said the Princess, who had heard far more about the wizard’s buttocks in the last couple of minutes than she ever wanted to, ‘I meant what happened to Pig the Horse.’

  ‘What?’ said Capablanca. ‘Ah yes. Pig the Horse. He too was honoured by the committee. With a special pain-free spell they branded a sign on his forehead which was to tell all wizards that he was never to be captured again, and then he was given his freedom.’

  ‘A chair for you and a mark on his forehead for Pig the Horse,’ said Blart. ‘You wizards are pretty mean when it comes to rewards.’

  ‘It is not the value of the reward that matters,’ explained Capablanca. ‘It is the significance of those who award it in the eyes of the world. A whole kingdom given to you by a fool is less valuable than a medal given by a genius.’

  ‘There are those who would disagree with your understanding of economics,’ observed Uther. ‘But tell me, what was the mark the wizards branded on to Pig’s forehead?’

  ‘It was unmistakable,’ Capablanca told him. ‘It was a flash of red lightning. No other horse in the world would have it.’

  ‘Why do you want to know?’ said Blart, noticing that Uther, who was usually a confident man, seemed to be a fidgeting a little nervously.

  ‘I may be able to help you find this horse,’ said Uther. ‘But if I am to help then I want your word that nobody will harm me for my part in what I am about to tell you.’

  The questors looked hard at Uther.

  ‘You have our word,’ said Capablanca suspiciously.

  ‘You must understand that I was merely an agent in this matter,’ said Uther warily.

  ‘Get on with it, merchant,’ urged Beo menacingly.

  ‘Just less than a year ago I came across an old acquaintance of mine in a seedy tavern in Murkstan. By profession he was a horse trader and he told me that he had recently acquired, from a source he refused to divulge, the most interesting piece of horseflesh it had ever been his fortune to discover – a flying horse.’

  Simultaneously the questors had a sharp intake of breath.

  ‘He told me that he had a problem,’ continued Uther. ‘For though the horse was unique he could not think of how to sell it in order to get the best price.’

  ‘Surely a rich man would have paid a vast quantity of gold for a flying horse,’ said Beo.

  ‘That is where you are wrong, warrior,’ said Uther. ‘My acquaintance had approached certain rich lords and barons and offered to sell them the horse, but he had been rebuffed. Nobody wished to take the risk of riding a horse that could at any moment take off and then fly higher and higher into the sky until its rider was roasted alive by the rays of the sun.

  ‘So I asked to see the horse,’ Uther continued, ‘and my acquaintance agreed. He led me through a warren of tiny streets and alleys before we came to a rough stable. Inside was tethered this great horse. My acquaintance threw open the stable door and flashed a lantern on the noble steed. Immediately I saw the red lightning fork flashing on its forehead –’

  ‘It was Pig.’

  ‘Immediately I saw Pig,’ said Uther, ‘I knew where there would be a market for him.’

  ‘Where?’ asked Blart.

  ‘The circus.’

  ‘The circus,’ shouted Princess Lois in outrage. ‘How dare you?’

  ‘I agree,’ said Capablanca. ‘That our former comrade, who rescued us from the Terrorsium, should have to suffer such indignities is outrageous.’

  ‘His dishonour should be avenged,’ said Beo, raising his sword again.

  ‘Now, now, now,’ said Uther quickly. ‘Remember that each of you has given me your word that you will not hurt me. I did not know that this Pig was your friend.’

  ‘Tell us what happened next,’ the wizard ordered Uther.

  ‘It was a simple enough transaction for a skilled deal-maker such as myself,’ said Uther immodestly. ‘Outside the town there was a circus. I suggested to the owner he come and see something that would make his circus the envy of all others. He came, he saw Pig – the red flash of lightning on the horse’s head particularly impressed him.’

  ‘How terrible,’ remarked Capablanca, ‘that a mark of honour from wizards should be seen as nothing more than a tawdry temptation to a showman.’

  ‘And then,’ said Uther, ‘after a little persuasion, Pig flew.’

  ‘When you say “persuasion” you mean that you whipped him,’ snapped Princess Lois and there were tears of anger in her eyes.

  ‘Whatever was needed to smooth the wheels of business was done,’ replied Uther calmly.

  ‘You will pay for each of those cruel strokes one day,’ the Princess told him bitterly.

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ said Blart. ‘Why didn’t Pig just fly away?’

  ‘It was really quite ingenious,’ began Uther and then, remembering who his audience consisted of, he stopped and began again.

  ‘It was really quite cruel,’ he said. ‘I’m shocked by the depravity of these circus folk.’

  ‘Get on with it,’ growled Beo.

  ‘The shameful practice,’ said Uther, ‘consisted of tying Pig the Horse down at all times.’

  ‘But then he couldn’t fly,’ said Blart. ‘I wouldn’t pay to see a horse that couldn’t fly. You can just go to a field to see that.’

  ‘There was enough slack in the rope,’ explained Uther, ‘for Pig to fly to the height of the big top. He would then circle over the audiences’ heads, ridden by Sheba the Fearless, a daredevil bareback rider, who would guide him around hoops of fire that she would jump through. So you see, Pig could use his flying skills to entertain the crowd while at the same time never ever being able to use his skills to escape.’

  ‘Poor Pig,’ lamented Princess Lois.

  ‘What was the name of the circus?’ asked Capablanca.

  ‘The Beserker Circus.’

  ‘The Beserker Circus?’ said Princess Lois. ‘They passed through Illyria only last week. They were heading north-east to the land of Cumbrianstar.’

  ‘What are we waiting for?’ said Capablanca. ‘Let us ride north-east and rescue our comrade.’

  Chapter 22

  ‘ROLL UP! ROLL UP! Tonight and tomorrow night in Gibb’s Field will be your only chance to witness the most spectacular, the most extraordinary piece of entertainment ever seen in this or any other part of the world. Bring your wives. Bring your children. Bring your neighbours to the Beserker Circus.’

  The big fat man banged his drum.

  ‘We have jugglers.’

  Bang.

  ‘We have clowns.’

  Bang.

  ‘We have acrobats.’r />
  Bang.

  ‘And topping the bill is the one and only Diablo the Flying Horse.’

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  With whoops and cheers the circus parade moved on down the main street of the town of Hookteryard. Children ran behind the parade, screaming with excitement. Their parents waved and cheered. The townsfolk stared out of windows at all the colour and bustle.

  The questors watched the parade disappear down the narrow road. They had ridden hard for a day and a half to catch up with the circus.

  ‘It’s the wrong horse,’ said Blart as the tail end of the parade vanished.

  ‘What do you mean the wrong horse?’ said Capablanca.

  ‘Their horse is called Diablo. Our horse was called Pig. We’ve found the wrong horse.’

  ‘Or they’ve changed his name, stoat-face,’ said Princess Lois.

  After asking directions Capablanca set off purposefully towards Gibb’s Field. Within a quarter of an hour, the questors found themselves on the outskirts of Hookteryard, looking out over Gibb’s Field at a big tent that was obviously used for the circus. Near the tent there were carts and tables and various circus folk chatting and shouting, but there was no sign of Pig the Horse.

  ‘We must ask someone,’ said Uther.

  ‘Who?’ said Capablanca.

  ‘I will find someone but it would be better if we did not all go into the field at once. Such a large group of people may attract attention.’

  Capablanca was torn. Uther’s argument made sense and if anybody was going to be able to find out the location of Pig the Horse it would be him with his wheedling ways. But Uther couldn’t be trusted alone with Pig.

  ‘You must take the Princess with you,’ he told Uther.

  ‘She will just start shouting at everybody,’ said Uther, ‘and I won’t be able to discover anything. Let me take Blart instead.’

  Capablanca looked doubtful.

  ‘He is so gormless,’ explained Uther. ‘Nobody would suspect him for a moment of being up to no good.’

  ‘That is true,’ agreed Capablanca reluctantly.

  Uther opened the gate and led Blart into the muddy field and towards the big tent. Nobody seemed to notice them.

  ‘Mind the guy ropes,’ said Uther.

  They were now very close to the tent. One flap was suddenly thrown back and a cheerful fat woman with a very red face came out to them.

  ‘’Allo,’ she said in a strange accent. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Greetings,’ said Uther, inclining his head respectfully. ‘My nephew here is desperate to see the circus.’

  ‘The show is not until this evening. Come back then. Your nephew will have a great time.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ persisted Uther, ‘but is it true you have a flying horse?’

  ‘Of course it’s true,’ said the fat lady. ‘Do you think we are liars?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Uther. ‘But my nephew was so excited when he heard there was a flying horse. Would it be possible just to take a quick peak at the horse before we go? Just for my nephew, you understand.’

  The woman began shaking her head, but Uther produced a gold coin and the shaking head began to nod.

  ‘You can try,’ said the lady, pocketing the coin. ‘Simply go through the gate into Gibb’s Pasture. But I don’t rate your nephew’s chances of getting a glimpse.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Uther.

  ‘You’ll see.’

  ‘Come on, Blart,’ said Uther. ‘We must go to Gibb’s Pasture.’

  Blart followed Uther. They passed through the circus folk in Gibb’s Field until they reached a gate that led into Gibb’s Pasture. Once through the gate they appeared to be on their own. There was a tent at the far end of the field.

  ‘They must keep Pig the Horse in there,’ said Uther and he immediately started towards it. Blart reluctantly followed.

  They reached the tent. Uther took a careful look to the left and a careful look to the right. Nobody.

  ‘We must be quick,’ said Uther. ‘Tell me straight away if this is Pig the Horse.’

  The merchant whipped back the flap of the tent. Blart looked in. There, tethered by a thick rope to a metal stake hammered firmly into the ground, was the huge black horse that had carried Blart and his fellow questors to glory a year ago. All that was different about him was the red slash of lightning branded on to his forehead.

  ‘That’s Pig,’ said Blart.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Blart nodded.

  Pig whinnied and tugged at his rope in obvious distress. This was a horse that was not meant to be tethered.

  Chapter 23

  ‘Vat are you doing?’

  Blart and Uther turned round. Behind them stood six huge men sporting six huge moustaches. Each wore only the briefest pair of pants and so the full power of their muscled bronzed limbs and torsos was visible for all to see.

  ‘Vat are you doing?’ repeated the man with the biggest moustache. ‘Tell me now or I vill tear off your limbs and feed zem to ze lions and ze tigers.’

  Blart gulped. They reminded him of Beo, but with fewer clothes.

  ‘Hello,’ said Uther. ‘My nephew just wanted to catch a glimpse of the flying horse and so –’

  ‘Nobody sees ze flying horse,’ said Big Moustache. ‘By order of Mr Beserker. You are brekking Mr Beserker’s rules. I and my bruzzers should tear off your limbs and feed zem to ze lions and ze tigers.’

  ‘Your brothers?’ said Uther.

  ‘My bruzzers,’ said Big Moustache. ‘We are ze Chigorin Bruzzers, famous in our country as ze strongest strong men in ze world. We can tear off ze limbs of a grown man and –’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Uther, closing the flap of the tent and beginning to back away. ‘I’ll be looking forward to your act this evening.’

  ‘You should not be here,’ said Big Moustache. ‘Mr Beserker tell us to guard zis horse. He tell us to guard zis horse like it is our own muzzer.’

  The Chigorin Brothers each wiped a tear from their eye at the mention of their mother.

  ‘Mr Beserker tell us zat people vill come to try and steal zis horse. He tell us zat when people come to try and steal his horse zat we should tear off ze limbs and –’

  ‘Well, we were just going,’ said Uther, continuing to back away from the Chigorin Brothers. ‘We’re very sorry for the inconvenience. As I say, my nephew just wanted a quick peek but obviously if that’s not allowed then we’ll be on our way. A simple misunderstanding. We don’t want to take up any more of your valuable time.’

  Uther and Blart continued to edge backwards.

  ‘Stop!’ ordered Big Moustache.

  Uther and Blart stopped.

  ‘I go and get Mr Beserker. He tell me that if zere is anybody coming near ze horse then he vants to see zem and if he don’t like vot he sees zen zere will be ze tearing of ze limbs.’

  ‘Surely there’s no need for …’ began Uther but he was silenced by the huge palm of Big Moustache.

  ‘Vait!’ he ordered. ‘I am going to get Mr Beserker. My bruzzers vill vatch you.’

  Big Moustache stomped off towards Gibb’s Field. His five remaining brothers made a circle around Blart and Uther. Each folded his arms and watched intently. It was most unnerving.

  ‘Those are very impressive moustaches,’ said Uther.

  The brothers stared harder.

  ‘Their eyes really bulge, don’t they?’ observed Blart.

  Blart and Uther lapsed into silence. However determined a person is to have a friendly conversation with somebody, it is impossible if the other person won’t try.

  Presently Big Moustache returned with an angry-looking purple-faced man, who stomped across Gibb’s Pasture. In his right hand he carried a whip. In his left hand he carried another whip. He was obviously a man who liked to hit things.

  As he approached, the Chigorin Brothers’ circle parted to allow him to get as close as possible to Uther and Blart.

  ‘My name is Beserker,’ h
e announced. ‘This is my circus. This is my land and in that tent is my flying horse. What are you doing here?’

  ‘My simple nephew wanted to catch a glimpse of your wonderful flying horse,’ said Uther.

  ‘Wanted to steal it more like,’ snapped Beserker. ‘Who sent you?

  ‘Nobody,’ insisted Uther. ‘We’re just interested in having a look. It would mean a lot to my nephew.’

  ‘A likely story,’ said Beserker. ‘Will you be saying the same when I’ve whipped you to within an inch of your lives and the Chigorin Brothers have torn off your limbs?’

  ‘We probably wouldn’t be saying much by then,’ agreed Uther. ‘We’d probably just be screaming.’

  ‘And a good thing too!’ yelled Beserker. ‘Horse thieves should be screaming. All the time.’

  ‘But we’re not thieves,’ insisted Uther.

  ‘How do I know?’ demanded Beserker. ‘Prove you’re innocent or I’ll flay the hides off both of you.’

  ‘Just look at my nephew,’ indicated Uther. ‘He’s too stupid and useless to steal the most important horse in the history of circus.’

  Beserker looked at Blart, who managed with no effort whatsoever to appear hopelessly stupid. For the first time a flicker of doubt ran across Beserker’s brow and the colour in his face lightened slightly.

  ‘He does look stupid and useless,’ conceded Beserker.

  He thought for a moment.

  ‘But you don’t look stupid and useless. You look sly and wily.’

  ‘Appearances can be deceptive.’

  ‘Maybe you should let me go and just tear his limbs off,’ suggested Blart, who felt that the time was right to broker a compromise.

  ‘No,’ Beserker shook his head. ‘I’m either tearing the limbs off both of you or none at all.’

  ‘May I strongly recommend you go for the second alternative,’ said Uther. ‘My nephew Blart is a great lover of the circus and is eager to see yours this evening, but I cannot imagine that even his devotion can withstand the forcible removal of his arms and legs.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Beserker. ‘I must think.’

  Beserker thought. The Chigorin Brothers stared. Blart scratched himself.

  ‘I am in a good mood. You may go,’ announced Beserker. ‘And anyway, the lions and tigers have already been fed today.’