by P. S. Wright
him down the street with his own rolling pin when she caught him with the nanny.
“What about me?” Jimmy Twotaters whined. “I’m a soap and candle maker. You can’t wave no taper over your head. Aint intimidating enough.”
This led to a general discussion about what each ought to carry and the proper way to wave things around for maximum intimidation. Shanksley swore you had to brandish it over your head like you was about to bash somebody. Missy Silverspooner lectured us all on how you was supposed bear your arms at a ready position until you brought them to play. But the Preacher settled it by telling them all they ought to do what the Lord told them to do. I was hoping he meant that one Lord he was always praying to, and not the one we was planning to depose. Then it was the church ladies’ turn to get all twisted and off they went, saying how we ought to at least eat the food they’d gone to all the trouble to fix for us. The preacher didn’t even try to support me. Like as not, he’d got up an appetite with all the preaching and rabble rousing. The ladies trotted off and returned with pies and sweet potato casserole and potato salad and fried chicken and pork and beans. Missy Silverspooner had one of those jiggly molds in the shape of a crown of thorns. All the ladies rolled their eyes because that’s all she ever brought. But she’d put pineapples in, so that counted for cooking.
The preacherman raised a big serving spoon over his head like it was a cross he was showing to the Lord and said, “Let us carry our repast to the castle and break our fast as we break the shackles of vampiric tyranny.” And it did sound better when he said it.
Everyone said hurrah, except for Mr. Bogley, who was gnawing a chicken leg. We tromped through the thorny underbrush, eating our pie with our hands and wiping fried chicken grease on our Sunday best. It was a fine day for grown boys and ladies who never got to let their skirts air out. It weren’t long before we was at the gates. The preacherman started to give us another one of his rousing speeches. But the lads was roused up enough already. Shanksley suggested we tear down the gate. So the lads set to while the ladies cheered them on, except for Missy Silverspooner, who really didn’t know she was supposed to be a lady. This was actually unnecessary seeing as how the gates was always left up for one and all to go right up to the castle and beg alms or supplicate or whatever. But it was in the spirit of the thing and the lads had a right good time of it.
I think some of the youngsters from the village had joined us by then, for there seemed rather more of our rabble than had been at the start. Perhaps it was the corn on the cob and apple turnovers they was after. Kids being kids, they was all too happy to start with the tossing stones at the pretty colored windows with their blocky shaped saints and roses. The preacher man took up a heroic pose right on the steps of the castle proper, just before the door, and set to speechifying. “We, the gathered citizens of this village and countryside, having been unjustly persecuted for nigh on these three generations…”
“My family only just moved in last growing season, remember? They needed extra hands for the turnips and potatoes.” Grubby Soregums reminded the preacher, who still owed the Soregumses a hen for the work they had done at his place. We all had told them not to trust the preacher’s promises. But they was new, and the promise of another hen was a hard one to ignore.
“Yes, yes. Having been unjustly persecuted for three generations except in the case of the Soregumses and Deedrikses, have come to demand the immediate removal of the royal family. Only God his own self can keep the people from the land.”
Shanksley waved a taper over his head. “And fences. Fences and God can keep people out. Only fences got to be mended.”
“Right.” The preacher glared at Shanksley. “Evil as old as mankind resides within these walls. Brothers and sisters, are we going to stand by as evil moves its silent, menacing hand over our lands?”
No one seemed inclined to answer as it was hard to know what it was we was supposed to say. Missy Silverspooner brandished her jiggly mold. “Down with them hands!”
“Yeah, down with hands and fences!” Several lads that had an eye for Missy chorused together like.
I could see the preacherman was getting pestered with all this interrupting and all. He mopped at his brow with a rag he always kept in his Sunday suit. “No, no, no. Down with Vampires and royalty and tyranny and evil.”
Bee was sweating the devil, but she always had a sunny thing to say. “Well now, I can do with the downing tyranny and evil, preacher. But royalty’s got its place. How we supposed to have a day off for the coronation day if there’s no coronation? And vampires is endangered. You can’t go downing endangered species.”
Several people around Bee agreed. But I remembered them colorful words the lady done whispered in my fool young ear. “Hey preacherman, what about our rights and how they are stealing the flower of our youth?”
The preacherman smiled. “The rights the Lord grants to humankind cannot be trampled asunder by the heathens and undead.”
Missy brandished her jiggly mold again. “Down with heathens and undead.”
Jimmy Twotaters brandished a stick of salami. “Aint we all undead? I mean, I’m pretty sure I aint dead. And if I aint dead, then I must be undead, right?”
That led to a bunch of arguing. Out from the back I heard Miss Sweatspots, the piano teacher, call out, “Last of the lemonade. Who’s for it?”
“Down with lemonade!” Missy shouted, just to stay in the spirit of it.
I thought it was about time to do some demanding of our rights and such. So I put it to the preacherman. “Let’s take our demands to them what have the power, preacherman.”
The preacher turned to the door and gave it a good thumping. “Come out and face your accusers, whores of the underworld. Come out into the light of day and hear our demands. Your days of controlling the population of God fearing people is over.”
Then everybody stood there quiet like, waiting for something exciting to happen. Finally the door cracked a bit and old lady Dankslice squinted out at our rabble in arms. Missy brandished her jiggly mold, but there wasn’t much heart in it. “What do you want? It’s noon and the family’s feeling poorly after their party last night. Missy, that you? Why you letting that jiggly mold melt in the sun? Is that apple slices in? I don’t care for apples in my jiggly mold.”
“No miss, tis pineapples, from a tin. I read about it in a print book from Black and White.”
“Well, it don’t seem right, fruit floating around in a jiggly mold. What are all you doing here on a Sunday?”
The preacherman had to get a head up again. Weren’t easy to face down old lady Dankslice. She had been around longer than them vampires, pale as they was but showing every year of wrinkles and grey hair. She knew every villager’s grandmam from when they was in diapers. “Listen here, we come to demand the departure of the evil vampire tyrants and we won’t leave until our demands are met.”
“Well! It’s like that is it?”
The preacherman jutted out his chin and puffed up his chest so he looked just like a pigeon. “We have the Lord on our side. We shall tear down the walls of injustice and demolish the demesne of the devil himself!”
“Well you do all that to them things if you want. But if you want to talk to the family, you got to wipe those muddy shoes off. I done beat all the carpets and I won’t be doing it again, you hear?”
“Yes missus. But will you please tell your employers we are here to present our demands?” He looked as deflated as a scarecrow less his stuffings.
Old lady Dankslice looked us over and showed us in to a sitting room, me and the preacherman and Missy. I guess we was the unofficial representatives and all that. So we sat on a fine sofa and nibbled on some dry gingersnaps while the old lady went to rouse up her missus and master. After ponderous long, she came shuffling back with the old master in tow.
“Yes, yes? There is an issue? What is the matter?” The old man were as skinny and small as new woman with the pink cheeks and shiny eyes of the young and in love to boot. It
weren’t right, in my mind. Old as he were, he should have had the decency to be ugly and grey. Only the fact he were bent over nearly double gave away his years, that and the way he turned his head and cupped a hand at his ear when listening.
Old lady Dankslice spoke in his good ear. “These say they got demands. They say you been stealing the flowers or some such. Beats me what they’re on about.” She crossed her arms over her hollow old chest and glared at the preacherman.
“Stealing? Stealing? Never stole a thing in my life, but the heart of a pretty girl or two.” And the old coot had the audacity to wink at Missy.
Missy blushed all cute like she wasn’t always running around hunting and such with every lad in town. “Oh no, miss, not stealing. We didn’t say no one was stealing. Twere the other issue we was concerned with, right preacher?” Missy actually turned coy eyes up to the old haunt. I swear the girl had gone lost her marbles.
“Yes, the other issue. I needed tell you there are things going on in this castle that are not right in the eyes of the Lord. No sir, it isn’t fitting and the people won’t stand for it. This is not the old days. We don’t sacrifice lambs on the altar these days or burn incense to keep evil spirits away.”
Missy put in, “Except on Easter of course. Incense smells nice.”
“The people are
