Part 34 (2/2)

'No, no.' The king shook his mighty beard. 'That is strictly against all royal protocol.'

'Now call me a t.w.a.t,' said Tuppe to Cornelius, 'but isn't that Father Christmas himself?'

'You're a t.w.a.t,' said Anna. 'But it is, isn't it?' She stepped sharply forward and poked Arthur Kobold in the waistcoat area. 'Is this your guvnor?'

'It's the king.' Arthur smiled another painful smile towards his monarch. 'Your Majesty.'

'Well, tell him to put his hands up.'

Arthur Kobold now made the kind of face you make when you shut your fingers in a door. 'I'd rather not, if you don't mind.'

'I do mind.' Anna thrust Mr Kobold aside. 'You!' she shouted.

'I?' The king's eyes widened. They were somewhat bleary and bloodshot, but they certainlywidened. 'Kobold,' said the king, 'there is a young woman thing here and she is pointing a pistol at me.

'Anna,' said Anna.

'Anna?' said the king.

'Anna,' said Anna. 'As in The King and I.'

'Guards!' shouted the king. 'As in, call out the guards!'

28.

The king's guards were otherwise engaged.

One of them was pus.h.i.+ng a reluctant Inspectre Hovis through the doorway into the torture chamber.

The other was discussing the pros and cons of the limousine-hire business with Terence Arthur Mulligan.

'You have to be careful with your clientele,' Terence said. 'Watch out for the p.i.s.s artists who throw up in the back, or try and nick your car-phone.'

'I was going to ask you about the phone,' said the big green thingy. 'Should I get Cellnet or one of the others? I've sent for brochures, but I can't seem to make up my mind.'

'Get on that rack you,' said the other big green thingy to Inspectre Hovis.

When the king had finally tired with shouting the word 'guards', he poured himself another drink.

'Kobold,' he said wearily, 'take these creatures', he waved towards Cornelius and Tuppe, who were still skulking in the doorway, 'straight to the dungeon. And her,' he pointed a big fat finger at Anna Gotting, 'chop her head off.'

'With pleasure, sire.'

'Get real,' said Anna.

'And use a blunt axe,' said the king. 'A big one.' 'That's enough.' Cornelius stepped into the great hail. 'Stop it, all of you. Now listen, please.' He stared up at the big figure on the throne. 'Are you really I mean, am I right in thinking that you are... that is to say ...

'Spit it out, boy!' roared the king. 'Are you Father Christmas?' The king's enormous face split into an enormous smile. 'My boy,' said he with a hearty chuckle. 'My boy. I see, I see.'

'What does he see?' Tuppe asked.

'You've come to give me your Christmas letter. You've come to see jolly old Santa and give him your Christmas letter. Well, why not? Have you been a good boy this year?'

'Barking mad,' said Tuppe. 'This bodes well.' Cornelius thrust his hands into his pockets and took a few paces forward across the flagstoned floor.

The king's smile froze. 'Shoes,' he said.

'What?' Cornelius asked.

'Shoes. Your shoes. Take them off.'

'Why?' Cornelius asked.

'Because it's protocol. And because I tell you to. Take your shoes off. Socks too.'

'No,' said Cornelius. 'I won't.' 'Guards!' shouted the king. Arthur Kobold wrung his hands.

Sergeant St.u.r.dy strode up Star Hill. He didn't take any roundabout routes. That was not his way of doing things. Travellers danced to every side of him, but reliable Ron stared stoically ahead and marched right on. The crowd parted before him. He had a certain way about him, did Ron.

'Get on that rack,' said the big green thingy once more.

'By this steel thrice blessed,' cried Inspectre Hovis, unsheathing his blade.

The large something that carried the not-so-large something, continued to do so, invisibly.

Cornelius strode across the great hall with his shoes still on. His footsteps echoed and the sound put the king's teeth on edge. And when Cornelius pulled out a chair at the king's table and sat down upon it, the royal teeth began to grind.

'Murphy,' said the tall boy. 'Cornelius Murphy. Perhaps you've heard of me.'

'This is Murphy?' The king addressed these words to the cringing Arthur Kobold.

Arthur nodded. 'b.l.o.o.d.y nuisance, so he is.'

'And what is all the hair about?'

'It's big hair,' Cornelius explained. 'All famous people have big hair. It's a tradition, or an old charter. Or something. You have a big beard. I expect it's the same thing.''I will have my guards hang you up by your big hair and roast you over a slow fire.'

'Not on Christmas Eve, I hope.'

'Kobold. Go out and find the guards. Tell them to bring two big blunt axes,' the king glanced over at Tuppe, 'and one of those little metal things you chop up slabs of toffee with.'

Arthur Kobold looked at Anna. Anna shook her head. 'Which one would you like me to shoot first, Cornelius?' she asked.

'Shoot the king first,' said the tall boy. 'Arthur can take care of the paperwork.'

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