Necrophenia

  ‘What?’ I shouted. Loudly.

  ‘There’s no need to shout,’ said the lady. ‘Although it says that you do, in the Book. When you have awoken after drinking the wine with the sleeping draft in it.’

  ‘What?’ I went, even louder.

  ‘You have to hand it to those ancients, don’t you?’ said the lady. ‘When it comes to prophecy they were pretty hot stuff. You wouldn’t get that kind of accuracy nowadays. If we had days to nowa, as it were. But as we don’t understand the concept, we don’t, so to speak.’

  ‘They’ve gone up the cord?’ And I rose from the table. And staggered a bit and my head really hurt. ‘I was drugged and the whole population of Begrem has absconded up my braided cord?’

  ‘That sounds mildly obscene,’ said the lady, ‘but in essence you are correct. Only I remain behind, to attend to your every desire for ever and ever. Well, at least for as long as I last, which won’t be too long with my health, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘I appreciate the sentiment,’ I said. Because politeness never costs. ‘But I will have to pass on your kind offer. I have to get up the cord myself. It’s not safe for them to go wandering around up there, all by themselves. And drugged wine! I’ll have stern words to say about that!’

  ‘Oh no you won’t,’ said the lady.

  ‘Oh yes I will.’

  ‘Oh no you won’t.’

  ‘And why will I not?’

  ‘Because they pulled the cord up after them. Would you care for a bit of hanky-panky to take your mind off things?’

  ‘What? ’

  And she told me what she had in mind.

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘Not that. I have to get out of here. Is there another way out?’

  And that was a very silly question, wasn’t it? Because of course there was not another way out. And so I sat in my big throne chair and had a good sulk and almost drank some more wine by mistake. And I glowered occasionally at the lady in the golden straw hat and knotted my fists and was grumpy. And the lady fluttered her eyelashes and carried on with her pudding.

  ‘I’m trapped,’ I said. And I threw up my hands. ‘I could end up spending the rest of my life down here.’

  ‘So you’d better get that hanky-panky while you can.’

  ‘I have to escape. My whole life, so it seems, has been moving - or has been moved for me - towards a single goal. I have a purpose. I cannot deny my purpose. I have to escape.’

  ‘Amazing accuracy,’ thought the lady.

  ‘What did you say?’ I asked her.

  ‘I didn’t say anything, dear.’

  ‘But you thought it.’

  Can he be reading my thoughts?

  ‘Yes, I can,’ I told her. ‘And you thought “amazing accuracy”. And I know why you thought it.’

  The Book. He’ll want to see the Book.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘I do. I want to take a look at this book of prophecy.’

  It’s hidden under your chair. ‘My son took it with him,’ said the lady.

  But I delved under my chair. ‘Aha,’ I said. ‘What is this?’

  But the lady just spooned up pudding.

  And I swept bowls and plates and drugged wine from the table and laid out the book (a golden book) before me. And leafed it open.

  And there were illustrations and everything. And the illustrations of the Deliverer looked just like me.

  ‘Uncanny,’ I said and did some further leafing. And then I went, ‘Well,’ because I had come across an interesting page. I read from this, aloud.

  ‘ “And so did the Deliverer rail against his forced confinement and seek a way of escape. And it came to him, as if by the influence of the George Himself, that there was a simple solution that—” ’ And I gazed across at the other page.

  ‘ “Knew he had been thwarted,” ’ I read. ‘What?’ And then I examined the Book with care. ‘Someone has torn out the page,’ I observed with bitterness in my voice.

  ‘My son,’ said the lady, looking up from her pudding bowl. ‘For such was it written in the Book that he would.’

  I made growling sounds, above and below my breath. ‘And did it say also that the Deliverer would be prepared to torture the necessary information out of the high priest’s mother, should she fail to divulge it willingly?’

  ‘I believe it must have,’ said the high priest’s mum. ‘Which is why I was never allowed to read the page in question.’

  I slammed shut the Book. ‘All very clever,’ I said. ‘But I will succeed. The question is, just how.’ And I asked the lady whether she would be kind enough to direct me to an undrugged golden carafe of wine and she kindly did so. And I let her try some first, just to make sure.

  And I drank wine and had a good think. And I do have to say that my thinking was very focused thinking. I feel that my situation and future prospects down there truly focused my thinking. Which was all geared towards the matter of escape.

  And presently, and although I didn’t see it myself, a certain look appeared upon my face. And it was the look of one beatified, enlightened. And I said, ‘Eureka,’ and brought my right fist down into the palm of my left hand. Which sadly had a cake in it. But I had had my Eureka moment.

  ‘Where is my sacred pouch?’ I asked the lady.

  Under my chair. ‘My son took it with him,’ she said.

  And I fetched my rucksack from under her chair.

  And I sorted through its contents until I found those two things I really couldn’t see the point of when I purchased all the other stuff: the telescope and the 26.5 mm Very flare pistol with the telescopic sight. ‘Yes!’ I went. And I punched the air. As one will do, when enlightened.

  And I said my farewells to the lady in the golden straw hat. And she said that she was sad to see me go, but had rather been expecting it. And that I was to give her love to her son when I saw him and say that the pudding was nice.

  And I returned to the central plaza, the Hindoo Howdoo Hoodoo Yoodoo Man Plaza, and I squinted up towards the hole I had blown oh so far up above. And it was a goodly hopeless distance above. But I did not despair. I took up my telescope and I focused upon the hole. It was still a hole. They hadn’t blocked it up, by the look of it. So it was possible that—

  And I took up the 26.5 mm Very flare pistol with the telescopic sight and I peered through the telescopic sight and did focusings with that also. And I went, ‘Hmm. This might just work. Well, it had better.’ And I took from my rucksack my coil of micro-slim emergency cord and also one of the three flares I had.

  And I secured the cord to the end of the flare and I aimed at the hole through the telescopic sight and I fired.

  And the flare shot up towards the hole, bringing a most wonderful illumination to the golden city. But fell short by several yards and nearly hit me on the head when it came down.

  ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘A higher elevation would be favourite.’

  And I entered the nearest tall building and went right up to its roof. Which made a great deal more sense.

  And then I took another shot at the hole.

  And I missed again. And the flare set fire to my cord and tore all away from it.

  At which point some seeds of desperation began to take root in my mind. I only had one more go at this.

  I damped down the end of the micro-slim emergency cord with a great deal of spit. Tied it to the remaining flare. Slotted the flare into the pistol. Took very very careful aim and fired—

  And the flare shot up into the air, glorifying the city with its light, and passed into the hole and upwards. And I watched the light above in that hole, that flare lying somewhere in the Subway station above now. And I watched the light dim away and die. And then I gave a little tug upon the rope. Because this was going to be tricky. And also it was going to be extremely dangerous and potentially life-threatening. Because it was only going to be luck if that flare caught on something up there that could support my weight as I climbed that goodly way aloft, upon that very slim line, which was
going to be pretty tricky in itself. Really.

  And I sighed and I took a deep breath. And I considered having another little pray to God. But I decided that I had surely worn out my requests of the Creator. One more would, perhaps, be looked upon unfavourably. So I did testings of the line. And it did feel sound and I considered how best to lighten myself.

  Take everything off? Climb naked? Perhaps not. But take off the heavy stuff and don’t bring the rucksack. Although perhaps do bring—

  I tucked the item I had decided to bring into a trouser pocket. Tested the line once more, let it bear my weight, then took to climbing. And I do have to tell you, it was no easy matter. But I kept at it. Tenaciously. With dedication. With resolution. And steadfastness. And more dedication. And things of that nature.

  Specifically.

  And there I was, this tiny figure dangling above this sunken city of gold. A rather strange and anomalous sight, I supposed, to anyone who might have been looking. And, peering down, I noticed that the lady in the golden straw hat was looking.

  And waving.

  But I really couldn’t wave back. But I smiled.

  And I inched upwards, the slim cord cutting into my fingers and me growing all hot and bothered and very short of breath. But I pressed on. Onwards and upwards. And after what felt like a very long time indeed, but probably didn’t seem like anything much at all to the lady in the golden straw hat, who had no concept of time, I was inside the rocky ceiling above the Golden City of Begrem. And here I was able to get a purchase with my feet upon rocks and this made the going easier. Although it did involve some rocks getting kicked away and hurtling below.

  And I did register a distant scream, followed almost immediately by a sickening thud. But I did not give that too much thought, as I had other things on my mind. The lady had probably been able to dodge the falling rock in time.

  And I climbed onward and upward.

  And eventually emerged into Mornington Crescent East (discontinued usage) Subway Station.

  And I had a really good puff and a really good cough and I rolled over and lay there, between the ruination of the tracks, and I breathed a great big sigh of relief.

  And then I all but pooed myself.

  Because someone cried, ‘It is he. The prophecy is fulfilled.’ And I looked up, blinking and cowering, to find the high priest looking down upon me, and others of Begrem, and they were all holding burning torches to light up the platform, and cheering.

  And the high priest had my flare in his hands and had evidently been holding it steady while I climbed.

  ‘You,’ I said. ‘You held the rope for me.’

  ‘I caught the flamy thing,’ said the High Priest. ‘It was very hot. It burned my hands.’

  ‘You waited for me? You helped me? Why?’

  And he flourished the page that had been torn from the Book. ‘Because that is what it said I would do.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Well, splendid.’

  ‘And we are all here, awaiting your orders. As we awaited your ascent of the cord.’

  ‘Awaiting my orders?’ I said.

  ‘To engage in battle against the Evil One,’ said the high priest, ‘As is written. We all have our weapons and we await your orders.’

  ‘Right,’ I said.

  ‘Your Army of the Underworld, to defeat the Army of the Dead.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, with a great big grin. ‘And how cool is that!’

  63

  And thusly did the golden Army of the Underworld smite the evil Army of the Dead. And verily did they smite them and did trounce them, too. And Tyler was made King of the City of Begrem and many were his golden concubines and muchly did he take his joy in them when he was not a-strumming upon his ukulele.

  Or, so I thought, it could oh so easily be.

  And I wished I’d read a few more pages of The Great Book of All Knowledge (and Selected Lyrics). Just to make sure.

  But I hadn’t and I’d have to wing it.

  But the golden warriors crowded all about me upon the rubbly platform of Mornington Crescent East (discontinued usage), all a-cheering mightily and rattling their sabers, and waving the flaming torches that they held.

  And I gave hearty cheers to them and called them mighty men.

  And I gave a little speech then of the ‘once more into the breach, dear friends’ persuasion. And I counted up those who crowded round me, some thirty in number, lit, rather nobly I thought, by the flaming torches, and bade them call to their comrades in arms, who were surely lolling about on the stairways checking out the ancient posters, that all should gather round to listen to, what I felt, would be later considered a historic speech.

  As soon as I had managed to compose it in my head.

  And the high priest did the calling out.

  And he called out to me, saying—

  ‘What other warriors, sire?’

  And I liked the ‘sire’ part of that, but said, ‘What do you mean by that?’

  And he said, ‘By which part of which?’

  And I said, ‘The bit where you asked me what other warriors?’

  And he said, ‘Oh, that bit, well, because there are no other warriors, sire. We are all the men of Begrem.’

  ‘And the women also,’ added a golden girlie.

  ‘Except for my mum downstairs,’ said the high priest.

  And I said, ‘Hold on there, what are you telling me? That you, noble fellows that you undoubtedly are, are all that remain of the people of Begrem?’

  And the high priest shrugged and said, ‘Well, how many folk could you sustain in a closed environment on a limited diet of cockroaches and mushrooms?’

  And I did not like the tone of the high priest and did tell him so. And the high priest shrugged and said he was sorry, but surely thirty men was a pretty big army. And how many warriors did I think they were liable to run up against? Because they were all well hard and up for it. And the other army could come and have a go, if they thought they were ’ard enough.

  Well, you had to admire his courage, anyway.

  ‘So,’ I said, suddenly downcast, ‘just the thirty of you.’

  ‘Thirty-one, including my mum.’

  ‘Forget your mum,’ I said. ‘Although she did ask me to pass on her love and say that she really enjoyed the pudding.’

  ‘Aie,’ said the high priest. ‘She’s a bonny lass and no mistake.’

  To which I raised my eyebrows, but had no reply to make.

  ‘So, sire,’ said the high priest, ‘would you care to make your rousing battle speech now?’

  And I took to shrugging and said that I was no longer in the mood and perhaps I’d make it later. But the high priest said that now really would be the best time. And that he had memorised the bit in the Book that said that I did. So it would probably be better for me if I didn’t try to mess with prophesied Fate. And there was something about the way he said it that suggested he really really meant it.

  ‘Oh, all right then,’ I said. All sulky. ‘Gather round, oh mighty warriors, and hearken unto me.’

  The high priest gave me the thumbs-up to this and winked an eye in my direction.

  ‘Now is the winter of our discontent,’ I began, ‘when we must fight them in the fields and on the beaches and keep a welcome in the hillside and gird up our loins and ride ’em, cowboy. Cometh the hour, cometh the man. Cry God for Harry and the George. And the show’s not over until the fat lady takes tea with the parson.’

  And I paused and did noddings of the head. But nobody cheered.

  So I continued in a likewise manner, ‘The time is right for fighting in the street,’ I said. ‘War, what is it good for? Absolutely nothing. But you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs. Oh, and kill everyone and let God sort it out. Geronimo!’

  And I stopped there and did some shakings of the head. And one of the golden girlies clapped a little.

  ‘Oh, listen, fellas,’ I said. ‘I don’t have any great battle speech to give you. Directly above
us there is what you will consider to be a mighty tower. And at the very top of this tower sits the Evil One. Except at weekends, when he probably plays golf with the President, or something. But I’m pretty sure we can catch him in on weekdays. And although you don’t understand the concept of days, I will explain it to you. But he’s up there and we’re down here. So the idea is that we get ourselves up there somehow and slay him, pretty much as bloodily as you fancy, really.’

  And the golden warriors looked at one another and then they looked at me. And then one of them whispered some words into the ear of the high priest.

  And the high priest said to me, ‘He wants to know what an omelette is.’

  ‘Right,’ I said. And rightly so.

  And then I had an idea.

  ‘Anyone hungry?’ I asked. And all of them nodded.

  ‘Would you like to try a little top-side tucker?’ And all of them looked rather blank.

  ‘Food,’ I said. ‘Good food. No cockroaches. Well, possibly some, but they’re not supposed to be included in the dishes. I’ll treat us all to dinner - I’ve still got loads of money.’ And I dug into my trouser pockets and I did still have loads of money.

  ‘You lot stay here,’ I said, ‘in the Tunnel of the George, because he might appear at any moment to greet you.’

  ‘You think so, sire?’ said the high priest.

  ‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised. But I will go upstairs, and I’ll bring us back food. Pizzas and Coca-Colas. I’ll get lots. An army marches on its stomach, doncha know?’

  And they all looked blank again.

  ‘Just stay here,’ I said, ‘and I’ll get food.’

  ‘Do you wish to take a couple of underlings to fetch and carry for you, sire?’

  ‘No,’ I told the high priest. ‘I’ll be fine. Now, I’m going to leave you in charge down here.’

  ‘I’m always in charge,’ said the high priest. And he folded his arms rather huffily.

  ‘Well, of course you are. So exert your authority and make sure that everybody stays put and no one goes upstairs.’

  ‘Why?’ asked the high priest.

  ‘Because I say so?’ I ventured.