The Horrid Tragedy of the Counts Berok: A Comedy Fantasy

by Galen Wolf

  Jeremiah reached into his pants and pulled out the Crystal. Without a word he hurled it and it flew shining through the air and then plunged into the scummy waters. Its evil glitter disappeared beneath the foul smelling water - a place that William guessed no one would ever snorkel.

  It was done.

  35. A Slight Improvement

  When Zventibold awoke, he was surprised to see the kind, craggy faces of William and Jeremiah peering down from above.

  "Arrrgggghhhh!!!" he shrieked, thinking, perchance, that he was in a nightmare, but then, recognising them, he calmed down. Then he remembered the events immediately preceding his lapse into unconsciousness, and even had a presentiment of Turgid sucking at his neck. "Arrrrrgggghhhh!!!" he shouted again.

  "'E be in a bad way, Willy," said Jeremiah, wiping the sweat from his nose.

  "Ar, that 'e be, Jez," agreed William. As Zventibold writhed in the bed, William went over and shut the window as there was a draught down the back of his coat. Suddenly, Zventibold sat bold upright in bed, his eyes wide, his fingers spread and describing mystic circles in the air in front of his eyes. William and Jeremiah were both rather startled and they leapt back, hands clawing for their weapons. This seemed to shock Zventibold out of his trance and he smiled when he recognised them. "Oh, constant friends! Oh, loyal companions!" he began. "I have done great evil, but now I feel as if a great weight of malevolence has been lifted from my shoulders. From now on, I shall do nothing but good. I shall bring justice, truth and freedom to this land of ours."

  Jeremiah looked at William who was cackling and rubbing his horny hands together, in this mild mid-morning light, he looked almost beautiful. "Them bees the words I've been dyin' to 'ear," he said grinning broadly. "'Ear! 'Ear!" he added, skipping with joy. Jeremiah, for his part, had begun to whistle a tune known as I am a Pirakteshi Yeoman. This was a sign of great happiness on his part.

  Zventibold reached under his pillow, a place reserved for the evil Crystal. As his fingers searched, he said, "The first thing that I shall do, is to destroy this accurs'd Crystal!"

  William stopped him. "Mas'er - it be done," he said.

  Zventibold sighed. "So," was all he said."And Turgid," he queried wistfully.

  William frowned and drew a finger across his throat all the while making an obscure gargling sound.

  "'E 'as 'ad an hargument with the ground," added Jeremiah. "You knows 'ow it be." Neither William nor Jeremiah seemed eager to talk of Turgid's accident. Zventibold looked around the room and there, on the window catch, was a scrap of purple and yellow silk - the material of the gown and robe set that Turgid had been wearing the previous day. "Oh," he said. Then he moaned and drew the back of his hand over his furrowed brow. "Oh," he said again.

  Jeremiah leaned over him and made as if to support his master's hunch.

  "Oh," moaned Zventibold, as if recalling something. "I have lost my Melissa's love through my wickedness and evil deeds. Oh woe is me. How I rue the day I was ever born!"

  Jeremiah looked worried. "Steady on lad. Plenty o' fellers 'ave lost their women afore now," he said.

  "Yes, but she was Melissa," said Zventibold simply. "There never will be another of her like in this world again. And if I was ever to meet her after this she would most probably spit at me and call me 'dwarf'." He got out of bed and began wandering around the room, dressed only in his night shirt. Then he went over to the window and began to stare vacantly out. The silence was charged and William and Jeremiah were struck with the same thought at the same time. They both ran over to Zventibold who spun on his heel - his eyes agleam. "I know," he said. "From this time I will do only good. Good- you hear me!?" And until all in this world is sweetness and light, I shall not cease from it."

  Jeremiah leant over to Zventibold and whispered. "'E done said that before, didn't 'e?"

  William nodded. "Ar, 'e tends to repeat 'imself when 'e's distraught."

  Zventibold had not been listening to them. Instead, he looked out from the window of the twisted streets that were Piraktesh. "Then perhaps my Melissa will return to me," he said wistfully, his tone pregnant with hope. William smiled sadly and said, "Mebbe she will, mas'er. I don't know much about women, but I does know they be queer."

  Jeremiah nodded in agreement. "Ar, queer they be - and enigmas. Perhaps she shall return."

  William retired early that night, and as he sat there in the semi-darkness, he felt guilty; he had not told Zventibold that on the loss of the Crystal, or perhaps at the death of Tyros Blut, the army of beastmen had reverted into individual piles of wood shavings.

  36. Hard Luck Zventi!

  That night the rains came. At the end of every Piraktesh summer the eight month drought always ended this way. Zventibold lay alone in his bed and listened to the wind moaning through the roofs of the Palace and the rain drumming on the fine glass panes of his window. In the darkness, he felt his loneliness; he felt his isolation from every other living thing. He was alone because he had been evil, because people could not find enough humanity in him - he knew that now. Nobody could touch him; he felt that no one was his friend. That is except William and Jeremiah, but William was loyal to the family Berok, not to him personally, and Jeremiah, well Jeremiah would be friendly to anyone who paid him. In this he did the two old men an injustice, but he did not know that then. He turned in his bed, and saw the rain running down the glass. It would be easy to blame his wickedness on other people and say that they had manipulated him, but he knew that was not wholly true. He had gone the way they wanted him to, but he had not resisted them. "Melissa," he sighed. "Oh Melissa."

  Morning found a disgruntled William. He had broken the news about the beastmen to Zventibold the previous night as he was taking him a hot malted, milky drip to promote sleep and some toast with marmalade, made from the shavings of the fruit of the Wilibongo. Zventibold had not seemed to care. He was lost in his thoughts. When William explained that George was coming and his army was very great, all Zventibold had done was smile wearily and eat his toast.

  And so, this morning, William walked into the conservatory at the back of the Palace. In here, even in the winter it was warm, but it smelled faintly of pig manure. All in all, it was not a very pleasant place but it was rarely visited by decent people, so William had taken to coming here when he wanted to think - an event that was becoming all too common in these present troubled times.

  As he wandered along the stone pathway that led through the Palace's tomato jungle, he was reminded of those days in the huge, smelly jungles of Wamawama. They had had a few scrapes, but all in all, they had been good times. It was then that William heard a whistling sound. It came from beyond the next row of tomatoes. It was someone whistling a tune, but the tune broke off and there was grumbling, as if the whistler, anonymous as he was, was composing a symphony but was not too pleased with the results. Cautiously, William stalked the unknown whistler through the tomato groves until he saw him. It was Jeremiah sitting on a cracked wooden bench. He looked greatly displeased with himself. When William saw it was his old pal, Jez, he jumped out from the undergrowth, all the while pulling a terrifying face as an ill-conceived joke.

  Jeremiah was startled and stopped, mid warble. Then he recognised the old campaigner and smiled and bade him sit down on the peeling green paint of the bench. William duly sat and asked Jeremiah what he was doing.

  "Ar, well Willy. I be composin' a symphony for four whistlers. I be 'aving a dang time o' it an' all."

  William was not surprised - after all there was only one Jeremiah. William smiled and brushing a fruit fly from his large nose, he began. "But to more serious things…"

  Jeremiah was taken aback. He reached for his sword. It looked like the two friends were about to fall out. Jeremiah said, "Art be serious, Willy! For what is man without 'is art?"

  William conceded that Jeremiah had a point, and he put a restraining hand on his friend's shoulder. "Let's not get to swordplay, Jez. You know I respect your music making, but I 'as othe
r things 'eavy on my 'eart."

  "Oh?" said Jeremiah a concerned look furrowing his wrinkled face.

  William continued. "Jez, Mas'er Zventibold be very resigned. He's doing nothing and George's army is drawing ever nigh."

  Jeremiah shook his head in agreement. "Ar," he said. All thoughts of whistling were temporarily banished from him. "But what can we do?" he said.

  "We can assassinate George and rescue Melissa," said William, his bottom lit a quiver; he was all warrior.

  Jeremiah, who had bad experiences in the meat trade with assassination, shook his head in horror. "By 'Ector, Willy - you 'ave some strikin' ideas." But he was convinced and the two shook hands and reached down a tomato each, which they ate with a dab of salt.

  That night the two would be assassins made their way out of Piraktesh. All they took with them were their weapons, a camel, which they took turns in riding, and a change of underwear. Under the desert stars they went. It was cold - damn cold, but at least it had stopped raining. They did not expect to meet up with George's army that night. It was rumoured that they were camped the far side of Kriptash. Long the two journeyed until it was almost dawn. The camel was very tired and they did not converse much. Then something happened that neither of them had expected; they saw the blue and purple banners of the Autocracy, and the number of the banners that stirred in the dawn breeze was legion.

  "Bloody 'Ell!" said Jeremiah, obviously surprised; he had never expected this.

  "It baint no problem," said William. "We'll just 'ave to do it sooner than we thought."

  "Ar," said Jeremiah. "I suppose we will."

  So they lay there in the desert, lying long disguised as desert plants. And when the day was spent, and night again had fallen, they arose, rubbing their aching limbs. They marked the tracks of the Georgian Army and followed them stealthily as desert jackals. Ahead they saw the Georgites camp. Men walked around getting their food ready and there were seemingly thousands of cooking fires. They noted where George's tent lay. It was marked by a big banner that said simply, "George" with his tagline "Here for You" underneath it.

  They crept from twisted shrub to stunted cactus along the desert floor. They had left the camel in hiding as a getaway method for after they had done the dirty deed. They were sweating and soon they came within spitting distance of the first camp fire. Jeremiah was tempted to spit, but he did not as he knew the sizzling would draw the attention of the guard. There was a slight breeze which ruffled the canvas of the tents. Then came a sound and William and Jeremiah dropped flat and lay doggo. They communicated only by silent commando signs. As they watched, Jeremiah gave the sign for a guard having a wee. William nodded grimly. The guard stood only feet from their position and he sighed with relief as his yellow urine hissed into the soft sand. It was his biggest mistake that wee - and his last. Jeremiah took no prisoners. He had wide experience of blades. When the man was despatched and rolled under a large thorny bush, the two elderly ninjas, bent double, in pain from their arthritic backs but determined and silent, crept into the huge camp and made their way from shadow to shadow towards the flapping George banner. The guards did not see them. They were tired and hungry and they had not expected resistance this far out from Piraktesh, especially not from two wrinkled old men. No one saw the two shades slip along the canvas avenues under the huge desert moon.

  Soon they stood outside the tent they suspected as George's. They looked grimly at each other; there was no turning back. Silently mouthing, "Wara-wara-wara-wara-ay!" William jumped into the opening of the tent. Jeremiah had his back. There was little light in the tent. In the corner a smoky oil lamp burned. By this, they saw a shape huddled under rich blankets; a shock of ginger hair was all that was visible. William did not think before leaping at the shape. He wrestled it long and hard, with Jeremiah putting the occasional boot in. Both of them had bitten it several times and stabbed it exceedingly when they discovered it was an elephant bladder with a ginger wig. They should have known this trick, as it was a favourite among the Autocrats of Piraktesh. Worse still, the bladder had been filled with oil and it had seeped out and run over to the lamp. Instantly it ignited. The whole tent was suddenly illuminated by the lurid flames of a fire.

  "Oh," said William. Jeremiah began to whistle.

  "Let's get out of here," said William and hurriedly, frantically, they cut their way out of the back of the tent, as they judged this would not be expected by any potential pursuers. The camp was chaos. Torches had been lit and shouts came from the direction of the guards' tents. William's desperate hope was that the camel had not got bored and gone home. Like tigers the two fled over the desert, while behind them a jostling forest of burning brands pursed.

  The camel was glad to see them. It had been observing a large beetle and musing to itself how different beetles and camels were, but it had to admit to itself that it was a trifle bored. It looked at the huge desert moon and thought it would give the two warriors another ten minutes and then if they didn't return it would make its way home to Piraktesh and its lady camel love who waited there.

  But Jeremiah and William saw the animal and jumped up onto the startled beast's humps - one each. Soon the camel was going full power and they had outdistanced the guards and were lost in the black wilderness of the desert night.

  In the morning, after a delightful sleep, George ordered his army to move on to Piraktesh. Because the host was so large, it was very ponderous. But just before 11, they were in sight of the mighty walls of Piraktesh and all the holes that had not been filled up.

  The men guarding the walls of Piraktesh were a mixed bunch, mainly common folk who had no desire to see the line of Axtos re-established on the Diamond Throne. Zventibold had opened the Imperial granaries and was feeing them for nothing - for the first time in years, if not centuries, the common folk had full bellies and they cheered his name, forgiving him for those of their number he had murdered while he was still evil.

  Zventibold, for his part, seemed resigned to his fate. He stirred little and the marshalling of the defences was left to the faithful William and Jeremiah. Zventibold had heard that Melissa had married George and she was to be his empress after they had killed Zventibold. And there outside Piraktesh was George's army - sell-swords and aristo toadies to a man. It was a blustery day and their purple and blue banners waved on the plain outside the city walls. George had received aid from all the landowners who had been dismayed at Zventibold's plans to feed the common folk and give them health-care. William came to tell Zventibold of George's arrival, but the news did not seem to bother Zventibold much. He just sat in his bath playing with his balsa duck. Many times William rapped on the bathroom door to give Zventibold situation reports, but Zventibold just did not care.

  William and Jeremiah knew that they could not long defend the walls. They had only a few thousand peasants while George had the best Zimdaga mercenaries and many cannon. William thought it best not to sacrifice men on the walls, where they would just be shot down like dogs. He turned to Jeremiah, "I think the only way we can try to even the odds, is by fightin' in the narrow city streets."

  "Ar," said Jeremiah grimly. "We'll give it a shot. Them twistin' streets be alien to the Zimdaga mercenaries, while our street rats know 'em well."

  It took George's force barely an hour to secure the walls, then they were in the street. Jeremiah was leading kamikaze squads around the Pie Square area. The fighting was fierce. The common peasantry was fighting for their lives and the lives of their children, while the mercenaries were working for jells. William stood with his telescope on one of the highest balconies of the Palace Berok, where he had taken the ailing Zventibold. The Berok forces, if they could be called that, still held the higher ground where the nobles' palaces stood. He had chosen to defend the Palace Berok for sentimental reasons as well as strategic. He stood there, on the balcony, the wind blowing his thin hair. He lowered his telescope and looked away from the scenes of the fighting, of the knots of battling men, of the burning house
s. And he went down to the family garden where oft times he had dug. There was the rockery he had loved in more peaceful days. And he walked on, into the room - once Mavis's room when she had been parlour made there - and through that to the stairs. Finally he reached the grand marble staircase that led into the Entry Hall. Here he tarried a while, lost in his thoughts: he had not chosen this fate, it had been chosen for him. Hector had bound his life to Zventibold's for good or ill, and, being honest, it had been mainly ill. Still, he would not be found wanting. He would do his duty.

  Jeremiah came into Zventibold's bedroom in the Palace Berok. There he sat, dressed in his bath robe. He was staring into space. Jeremiah was bleeding from a score of minor wounds. "Mas'er Zventibold, Sire. I'm afraid the enemy is in control of the city. Most of the resistance has been overwhelmed in the streets. They'll be at the Palace in a minute sir. I've received a message asking for our surrender, but Willy won't 'ave nothin' of it. 'E's on the walls of the Palace now. Will you come up?"

  Zventibold said, "Aye, tis time," wearily rising to his feet. Jeremiah led the way to the high balcony where William had resumed his position. The remains of the Berok army stood with him. William said, "They asked us to surrender. They said they'd spare our lives if we 'anded you over. But the lads and me," he pointed to the three bandaged peasants who were grinning wildly. "Me and them, we wouldn't 'ave nothin' of it. Told 'em to bugger off, sir. I'm sorry Mas'er Zventibold, but strong times call for strong language."