“Tough.”
More Bargaining
In the church the demon sat near the altar shivering in discomfort. We sat in the front pews, me near the centre asking the questions.
“What is your name, demon?”
“Rupert.”
“What?”
Several men in the church sniggered and the demon looked miserable.
“It means a very terrifying thing in the language of Hell.”
“I see. Well…Rupert—” there was more chuckling around the church, “–tell us how you came to be in Long Lofting. No doubt you were on some mission for the lord of darkness.”
“No. I just needed some time off. We’ve been working overtime. My back is killing me and Long Lofting was the nearest place that I could disappear to for a rest.”
“You’re skiving from work? That’s it?”
Rupert nodded.
“I don’t believe you. If you came from Hell, how come you fell downwards from the sky? Hell is meant to be the underworld.”
“Well, metaphorically speaking, Hell is like an underworld. It’s full of caves and tunnels and labyrinths and pits. But it hasn’t been…you know,” the demon pointed towards the floor. “down there…for a long time.”
“Since when?”
“Oh, ages ago. And I mean ages. At first, Hell was a small place. Not many departed souls, very few sinners, not a lot for us to do really. And it was situated at the centre of the world. But as time’s gone by the number of departed souls has increased many thousand-fold and space became a problem. And let’s not forget how popular sinning has become. Recently, about a few hundred generations ago, Hell was moved. Instead of being encompassed by the world, it then surrounded it. After that, it started to lease parts of the world for its own purposes. Now there’s mostly Hell and very little world left. Just a few little villages like this one.”
“That explains why it’s been so hot,” said Prattle adding little of value to the conversation, as usual.
“Hot? You don’t know the meaning of the word,” replied Rupert.
“Where do the good people go when they die?” Asked Wiggery.
“The who?”
“The good people,” he repeated.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I only ever deal with bad people. Bad people just like you lot.” The demon managed a half smile that faded quickly.
“What about heaven? What about the Great Father?” Asked Rickett.
Prattle shifted in his pew seat and scratched behind his neck. Then he seemed to notice something fascinating and previously undiscovered about the prayer book he ought to
have known backwards.
“Uhm, I think you’ll find that’s just a rumour,” said Rupert.
“A rumour?” Wiggery was dismayed.
“Yes, you know, just a story. A kind of legend or folk tale.”
“I know what a jazzing rumour is. How can it be so?”
“As far as I know, the world was created by the Lord of Darkness for his own personal pleasure and diversion. He made a bet with himself about how long it would take his flawed creations to come home to him through the path of sin. He invented the Great Father and other versions of him to keep a natural tension alive in the world and give people a reason to find sinning so tempting. The game’s almost over.”
“How long is left?”
“Oh, I don’t know for certain, but he’s been smiling a lot recently which is a sure sign he’s expecting to win the bet.”
“But he can’t lose the bet,” said I.
Others nodded.
“That’s true.” The demon yawned, exposing his impossible ivories. “Explains why he’s such a happy all-powerful being, I suppose.”
Prattle was absorbed by some passage in the prayer book. He didn’t seem to have noticed what the demon was saying.
“So, what you’re telling us,” said Wiggery, “is that when the last good person in the world starts sinning and then dies, the world will end?”
“Correct. Then Hell will carry on as it always has with everyone present like they should be.”
“Won’t that be hard work for you?” I asked.
“Oh no. Each time the world ends we have a party. Gets pretty wild, actually. We all have a rip-roaring time until the Lord of Darkness decides to create another world. We try to keep him so drunk he can’t remember to do it, but in the end he always does. It’s just a cycle, really. Quite natural when you think about it.”
“Natural? Are you insane?” Rickett was beside himself at the demon’s suggestions.
“Oh, yes. Absolutely. Couldn’t have got the job if I wasn’t.” Rupert looked exhausted. I thought of all the torturing of souls he must have been doing over the previous millennia. He was the sort of creature we were all going to get to know very well before too long, if what he was saying was true.
“How can we be sure you’re not deceiving us?” I asked.
“What would be the point of that?”
“Well…you’re a demon, Rupert. Deception is your thing.”
“If you don’t believe me, slit your throat and go see for yourself.”
It was the only way to be sure, but all of a sudden no one seemed all that curious about the truth. Was the demon bluffing? Was it merely as mad as a clubless bison in a herd of fertile bisonettes? I looked from side to side in the front pews and saw dejection on every face. What did anyone have left to look forward to now that we all knew our fate? Only Prattle seemed unflapped by the demon’s tidings. Studying his face it struck me that, far from being terrified by news of the future, he seemed resigned to it and perhaps a little embarrassed. The demon picked his moment to start bargaining with the timing of an ancient master in the art of temptation.
“That takes care of your eternal souls,” he said. “And seeing as every one of you is already damned, you might as well enjoy what little earthly time you have left by engaging your physical bodies in every whim of pleasure and excess you care to imagine. A virgin or two? I can get plenty of those. Hell, have three each if you want. I’ll even throw in a sheep for the more adventurous among you. I have access to many ecstatic potions and powders that are guaranteed to keep a man’s lance firm until his slaying is done. I have others that will transport you, if only temporarily, to heaven. You can have as much as you like. If you live another thirty or forty years that’s not much heaven, but it’s better than none at all. Let me think…oh yes, you’ll need music to keep you interested and maintain a good festive atmosphere. I’ll organise musicians. Anything else I’ve missed?”
“What about food and water?” asked one of the men. “We’re practically starving as it is. The well could run dry any time. What use will wine, women and song be to us if we’re too weak to move?”
The demon shrugged.
“I didn’t mention food because it was too obvious. I shall, as part of our bargain, provide a horn of plenty to be placed in the village square. No one will lack for anything until the day they die.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could save our souls, is there?” Asked Wiggery.
“Out of the question. I have tried to explain these things to you. Your souls belong to the Lord of Darkness. Which aspect of that fact that do you not understand? You can have anything else you want. Anything. But not your souls. And all I want in return is my tail. Deal?”
“NO! No one say anything,” I shouted. “Listen here, Rupert, I’m the one with your tail. You deal with me.”
“But these men all know what it is they want. Allow them a little pleasure before they enter eternal torment. I’m merely showing them mercy.”
“You’re merely trying to get your tail back and pervert the last few good folk in the world. Everyone out of the church. Go on, out! Now!”
Confused, and not a little upset to be missing out on every fantasy they’d entertained plus all the new ones the demon had created for them, the group of men filed out of the church. They grumbled. Some of them knoc
ked their shoulders into me as they passed by. I saw a few of them steal glances at the tail I still held. I didn’t have much time before I lost control of the situation completely.
“Not you, Leopold,” I yelled. Where did he think he was going? “You stay here with me.”
When the men were outside I put an arm around Prattle’s shoulder and walked him towards the vestry. I held the tail up to Rupert as we left.
“If you want this back, you won’t move from there.”
The old oak door creaked shut behind us in the cramped in vestry and we were alone. The air was stale and musty. It smelled of decaying hymnals and psalters and unwashed cassocks. Prattle wouldn’t meet my eye.
“How long have you known about all this, Leopold?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Fine. Then explain to me why you’re not the least bit shocked to hear the news that the demon has brought with him?”
“Because it’s always been an uphill battle—one I was likely to lose.”
“We still have a chance, you know. Giving in like this isn’t the way to finish up. Even if I’m wrong, wouldn’t you rather go out fighting? Knowing you did everything you could?”
Prattle heaved a huge sigh.
“The demon is telling the truth. Hell is all around us. The Great Father can’t hear our prayers any more. We’re cut off.”
“So, despite what Rupert says, you still think the Great Father is out there?”
“Yes, but we’ll never feel his presence again. Not here and not in the afterlife.”
“Where’s your faith? Isn’t that what your religion is all about?”
“It doesn’t stop me believing in Him.”
“But what’s the point in believing if you’re damned?”
Prattle shrugged. He’d been too resigned to our fate for too long. He’d already given up. To him, his very priesthood was an ironic joke
“Exactly,” he said.
“Will you give me a chance? Will you risk not having every physical pleasure you ever dreamed of in return for a sign that the Great Father really is out there?”
Prattle steepled his fingers in front of his mouth and pursed his lips. Something occurred to him and I didn’t like the way it made him smile.
“All right, I’ll give you that chance. But only if you promise to come to church on the holy day for the rest of your life. That is, if your plan works.”
Well, I thought to myself, at last a little interest in his job. He was still looking for converts. Or was it just that he knew if I went to church that the power base in the village would shift from me to him? For the first time since he’d come to the village, it didn’t matter to me who was held in higher esteem. We had everything to lose and everything to gain.
“Gladly. Every holy day for the rest of my life.”
I don’t think he could believe it. He looked pale. The world he’d come to know so well; the safe, damned world in which I was his arch enemy, was turning on its head. I put my hand out.
“Deal?”
I’m sure he thought I would take my hand away at the last minute and ridicule him for ever thinking I would change my ways. So when he made contact with my unmoved palm he flinched and blinked and then it was sealed.
“Come on.” Said I.
Whence it came
In the church I stood in front of Rupert who was smiling to himself like a fox who’d been willed a chicken farm.
“Have you made your list of requests?”
“We have. It’s very short.”
“It’s not my problem if you humans lack imagination.”
“Quite so. It’s very simple. We want you to fly up to heaven and inform the Great Father what happened here.”
The demon snorted angry incredulous laughter. Smoke poured from his nostrils.
“You want me to do what?”
“I think you heard me, Rupert, unless having your head and tail removed has affected your hearing. It’s not compulsory of course. I’m merely offering you our terms. If you don’t want to take them, you can spend the rest of history here in Long Lofting. We’ll keep your tail very safe and I’m sure we can find some odd jobs for you to do in the meantime.”
Rupert stood up, his head nearly reaching the ceiling of the church. His eyes flared yellow as though sparks whirled in a twister behind them. His red face became even redder and we felt the heat roll off him in dry waves. Every muscle in his sinewy body tightened. We heard his tendons creak like stretched leather. He blew a jet of fire from his mouth that melted several church candles, ignited a few prayer books and blackened one of the pews. Prattle beat the flames with his robes and then ran for the sand buckets.
“There’s really no time for histrionics, Rupert. I’m going to count to five and if you’re not in the air by then, I’ll assume the deal’s off and that you’ve decided to stay.” I counted very quickly. “One, two, three, fou—”
Rupert sprinted along the central aisle of the church towards the open doors. A great waft of air followed him out. Mysteriously, the fires he’d caused went out. I ran after him as he launched himself forward in a dive through the entrance. Outside, the men ducked as Rupert spread his wings wide. There was enough space between the top step and the dirt of the square for him to take to the air and once he was three or four strides above the earth, he began to flap his wings. They whined against the air. He was huge and deep red in the pale dawn light. It was bright in the east and that was the way he flew. It would all have been very dramatic if he hadn’t had his hands clapped tightly over the stump of his tail as he flew. We all watched him for a long time and he didn’t seem to get any smaller. Then, at some tremendous height, he turned pure white and stopped moving. The sun came over the horizon and caught the shape he’d left. It was a cloud of brilliant sharpness, perfect in every detail. It depicted, in vapour, a white-winged creature, most definitely not of this earth.
“Has he gone for the girls and the powders, then?” asked Blini Rickett.
“I fancy that horn of plenty myself,” said Puff Wiggery.
I didn’t have the heart to tell them right at that moment that it might be much, much better than that. Prattle came down the steps from the church and stood next to me, stinking faintly in the coral dawn light.
“That was odd,” said he.
“What was odd?”
“I didn’t think he’d leave like that.”
“Ah, but we’ve got his tail.”
“But even if there is a heaven and the Great Father’s still in it, he’ll never make it through Hell to get there. The lord of darkness will stop him.”
“Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” I looked over at Prattle and noticed he had some feathers stuck to his robes. “You been plucking a chicken, Leopold?”
He looked down at himself and tried to brush the feathers away.
“No. I expect a couple of geese had a set to in the church. There’s feathers everywhere in there.”
A strange thing happened then—I say strange; what it was was unusual—we all felt a breeze moving the air. It was the first breath of wind the village had felt in months. Years perhaps. From above us more stray feathers floated down to earth, wafted on invisible currents. I turned back to Prattle and began to speak.
“Leopold, you don’t suppose that Rupert might have been an—”
But I never finished my sentence. Something was happening to the cloud. It was growing. Like a tide sweeping across a flood plain it spread out over the sky, keeping all the time its winged shape. In this way it appeared to be coming towards us at great speed. Rickett and Wiggery flinched at the illusion. Watching calmly I saw that cloud take up the whole sky from horizon to horizon. It blocked out the momentarily risen sun was then darkened from white to grey to dark slate and then to shades of charcoal. The vapours lost their shape and began to turn and roil like a dark ocean suspended above our heads. There was a distant rumble of thunder that reminded me of Rupert’s voice and then a wind, a
true gusting wind, came to life around us blowing the dust of the square against our skin. It stung and brought with it a thrill of coolness. The hairs all over my body stood up and I shivered at the touch.
And then, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, it began to rain. Warm, fat drops pattered and broke against every upturned face. They rolled and dirtied themselves in the dust. They made us blink. In moments, no one yet believing it could be true, we were all drenched to the skin. In Prattle’s case, this made him smell worse as his robes became fragrant with moisture.
“If I’m going to come to your church every holy day, is there any chance you might bathe with similar frequency?”
Leopold smiled. I didn’t recognise the look at first because I’d never seen it before.
“I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.”
Epilogue
And that was how Leopold Prattle and I came to exchange our favourite books from time to time. He would peruse the Ledger, when none of the congregation was around, and I would do the same with his copy of the holy book. We occasionally met for an ale, in addition, but I wouldn’t say we became great companions. A margin of respect grew between us that both held us together and maintained our distance. It suited us both very well, I believe.
The demon, Rupert, we never saw again, but after he was gone we marked the event with a festival—one day later than the original event had been planned for—that to this day remains incorrectly named ‘The Feast of The Dragon’. Even Prattle and I agreed that you couldn’t hold a holy festival that involved a demon in the title. No one, not a single soul, ever ventured out loud what they thought Rupert might really have been, but I’m sure that even Wiggery and Rickett had their suspicions.
The women that cavorted in the wood that night, including Velvet, were never told that they’d been liasing with anything other than an evil employee of Hell. They needed to suffer a little for their transgressions, after all, and a little guilt was good for them.
It’s interesting to note that the animals we kill and eat for The Feast of The Dragon are white geese or white chickens. The purity of their feathers serves as an important symbol to those who remember the events of those days. To everyone else, those born later and those who weren’t really involved, The Feast of the Dragon is just another good excuse for an excess of food, ale and flirtation. Not to mention music and dancing.
Snake Eyes Page 13
