Marrying Off Mother (15 page)

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Authors: Gerald Durrell

BOOK: Marrying Off Mother
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They are very dirty,' said Ludwig, gazing at the sheep.

They keep them dirty so that no one will poach them,' I explained. They are washed once a year, on St Omo's Day, in a great ceremony in the castle's sheep-dip.'

‘Oh,' said Ludwig.

He gazed around at the huge blocks of fallen masonry and half-demolished walls.

‘Where are the kitchens?' he asked.

I led him into a room which I suppose in the old days was where the sentries sat and guarded the second entrance with the drawbridge into the castle, polishing their bows and arrows and keeping the boiling pitch at the right temperature. The room, which had no roof, was some twenty feet by nine. One end was curved, and in it was set a long narrow arrow-slit like a cross in the thick masonry.

‘This,' I said, ‘was the great kitchen.'

The American girl had paused just outside.

‘But it is small,' said Ludwig.

‘Not if you are a skilful cook, and if you have got all the modern conveniences. Henry was very keen on his food, as I told you, and it was more than the cook's life was worth to serve a bad meal, but a good cook can easily produce a banquet in a space like this, seven or ten courses, perhaps. The art of good cookery is tidiness,' I said unctuously, remembering vividly that my wife had said that I was the untidiest cook she had ever met.

‘But how did they get the food upstairs?' asked Ludwig, greatly puzzled.

‘Through the serving hatch,' I said, pointing at the arrow-slit. ‘Tall things, like celery and so on, through the upright, and the trays of the small, flatter stuff, through the cross slit.'

Ludwig stepped forward to examine it.

‘It is very extraordinary,' he said.

The American girl looked at me, shook her head reprovingly, grinned and then, to my annoyance, disappeared. I showed Ludwig round the rest of the castle, pouring misinformation into his eager ears and hoping that we might catch up with her, but she had vanished.

Ludwig grew more and more worried. The guest rooms, some eight feet by six, would, he pointed out to me, only hold a moderate-sized double bed without any space to get in and out of the room. How did Queen Elizabeth who, I had informed him, came up for weekends with her father, manage? I said you simply opened the door and jumped into bed. It saved a lot of mucking about, and as the bed took up the whole room, you didn't have to worry about sweeping under it. He was worried, too, by the sanitary arrangements — the remains of a round tower some five hundred yards away from the main castle, perched on the edge of the hill, which I told him served as a ladies' and gents' toilet.

‘Why so far away?' he asked.

Two reasons,' I explained. ‘Firstly, as you can see by its position, every time they flushed it, the contents rushed down the hillside into the enemy's camp, causing acute consternation. And, secondly, Henry had it built there as a punishment. He found his courtiers were simply using the battlements and the sentries below were complaining, so Henry had it built out there and everyone, on pain of death, had to use it. I can tell you, on a cold winter's night, it was very effective.'

The American girl had vanished just as completely and as suddenly as a rabbit down a hole, and I felt sad. I thought that, maybe, a few more of my historical gems and we might have made contact. Slowly, we retraced our steps to the entrance, and as we walked down the slope, I glanced up at one part of the castle that remained more or less intact and saw, high above, in the carunculated remains of a window, with the jackdaws drifting round it like ash flakes, the beautiful girl leaning out and watching us. I waved and she waved back. I needed no further encouragement. Making my hands into a trumpet, I shouted:

‘Lady fair, it's my day for rescuing beautiful princesses, and I know that you are in distress.'

She considered me gravely, leaned forward, her mane of black hair falling over her shoulders.

‘Sir knight, I am in dire distress,' she called melodiously, with that soft American accent. ‘How did you know my plight?'

My heart warmed to her.

‘Lady, this whole kingdom knows it,' I said, making, as they used to say, a leg. ‘I and my jester here have travelled many a weary mile to rescue you from a fate worse than death.'

‘What is jester?' asked Ludwig.

‘A sort of fool,' I said.

‘You mean, an idiot?' he asked, indignantly.

‘Sir knight,' called my princess, looking nervously behind her. ‘Speak low, I fear the guards may hear.'

‘Lady, the fact that your wicked uncle has imprisoned you, so that he may take both your kingdom and your virtue, has come to my ears,' I shouted.

‘An idiot is a jester?' asked Ludwig.

‘A licensed buffoon,' I said.

‘My virtue too?' enquired my princess.

‘What is a buffoon?' asked Ludwig.

‘Yes, that precious gem that women hold so dear,' I said. ‘Your uncle, even now, with black and ferocious brow . . .'

‘Is buffoon the same as jester?' asked Ludwig. ‘So it means it is three words for idiot.'

‘Yes,' I said tersely, for my princess was hanging upon my every word.

‘Tell me, fair knight, what is my uncle doing?' she questioned, melodiously.

‘He is sitting, at this very moment, planning your doom, madam,' I said. ‘But never fear, I will . . .'

‘Doom is another word for death?' asked Ludwig.

‘Yes,' I said.

Tell me, fair knight, can I, with your help, avert it?' asked my princess.

‘Lady, fear not,' I said. ‘No uncle, however incestuous, however depraved, however twisted of soul, backed by a thousand minions, however squat, however hairy, however medieval, whatever the forces ranged against us — we will, with our trusty sword Excalibur . . .'

‘You know this girl?' asked Ludwig, with interest.

‘Sir Lancelot, ‘tis you!' cried the lady in tremulous tones.

‘'Tis I, madam, and at your service,' I replied.

‘You meet her maybe somewhere before?' asked Ludwig.

‘Look,' I said, exasperated, ‘shut up a minute.'

The jackdaws wheeled about the tower, calling querulously.

‘Lady,' I called, ‘we have waiting below my trusty steed, my horse Mercedes, upon whose back we will transport you to safety.'

‘Mercedes is not
one
horse,' said Ludwig, ‘it is twenty in this model.'

‘Sir Lancelot, your kindness is equal to your courage,' said my princess.

Then I shall scale your battlements, kill your guards, and transport you to the village of Ye Bournemouth for a dinner of venison and mead.'

‘In Germany, we have much venison,' said Ludwig, ‘with dumplings.'

‘Alas, Sir Lancelot,' said the princess, ‘I fear it cannot be, even though I yearn for mead with vodka and a dash of angostura bitters. In yonder hamlet my betrothed awaits my release and he is of jealous mien.'

‘What means “mien”?' asked Ludwig.

‘Disposition,' I said. ‘Damn! She would be engaged.'

‘Mien is plural for men?' asked Ludwig.

‘Princess,' I said, sorrowfully, ‘you should not have been so precipitate. Remember the adage, “Marry in haste, repent at leisure,” and quite apart from that, I had such a hell of a job pulling my sword out of that stone, specially for you.'

She laughed.

‘You will find other princesses, I'm sure,' she said. ‘Farewell, Sir Lancelot.'

‘Farewell, sweet Guinevere,' I said.

‘You said you didn't know her,' said Ludwig, as I led him down to the castle gates. ‘But how do you know her name?'

‘She's Guinevere Smith from Jollytown, Ohio,' I said, ‘and I met her in New York. Now let's get back to Bournemouth. The bars will be open.'

‘This castle,' said Ludwig, as we made our way towards the arched entrance, ‘is not in a very good state of repair.'

‘We English like them like this,' I said. ‘We like to feel they are a bit on the old side, you know.'

‘But on the Rhine,' said Ludwig, ‘we have many castles, many beautiful, big castles, and they are all in a very good state of repair.'

Luckily, just by the entrance was standing a rather forlorn wheelbarrow full of gravel.

‘There,' I said, pointing at it, ‘we are doing something about it. Come back in a year or two and it will look like a Hilton.'

The green of the fields in the fading light had turned to dark emerald, and the ploughed fields had turned a curious deep purple brown. The light on Poole harbour was pink and the gulls, wheeling home to roost, were reflected in the almost smooth waters like snowflakes. Ludwig played some more Bavarian music and thumped the steering wheel as he was not wearing leather knickerbockers.

‘Well, it has been a most interesting day,' he said, as we turned into the road leading to the hotel. ‘When my parents come over, I will take them to Corfe Castle and tell them everything.'

I felt a little guilty.

‘I should buy a guide-book,' I said. ‘You'll never remember it all.'

‘Yes,' said Ludwig. ‘I will do that.' ‘And thank you for a lovely day,' I said. ‘Thank you,' he said, formally.

We garaged the car and, as we were walking towards the hotel, he glanced at me shyly.

‘You will not forget those pills, will you?' he asked.

‘Of course not,' I said. ‘I've packed them somewhere, and I can't find them. But I'll have a proper look tomorrow.'

‘Tomorrow is last day,' he reminded me. ‘The next day I go on holiday.'

‘You shall have them, I promise.'

It was, as it turned out, just as well that I eventually found the tranquillizers. Returning from the cinema, I was surprised to see a dense crown of people on the pavement and in the road outside the Royal Highcliffe Palace. When I got closer, I could discern in their midst a police car with a pulsating blue light on top, an ambulance and two fire-engines. Ladders from the fire-engines craned up into the sky like the necks of strange prehistoric beasts, and the pavement was covered with hosepipes, like a monstrous brood of newly-hatched pythons. High up on the side of the hotel was the cause of all the commotion, the great neon sign which had, in some mysterious way, caught fire. Although the alarm had been given promptly, by the time the fire was under control all that was left of the sign was YAL HIGH LACE which looked like a chapter heading for one of the Dead Sea Scrolls, or the name of some ancient Chinese philosopher. I pushed my way through the throng and found a distraught Ludwig escorting out a host of large firemen and even larger policemen. He looked so pale, exhausted and guilty, that one would have thought that he had set fire to the sign himself.

‘Hello,' I said, cheerfully. ‘You've been having a jolly time.'

Ludwig groaned.

‘Terrible! Terrible!' he said, brokenly. ‘The mess they make in the suites getting in and out on to the roof. I feel terrible! It is my holiday tomorrow.'

‘But you didn't set fire to the sign,' I pointed out.

‘No! No, but I was on duty,' said Ludwig, his eyes anguished. ‘It caught fire when I was on duty.'

‘Very inconsiderate of it,' I said, soothingly. ‘But it didn't burn the hotel down, so you're all right. Come and have a drink and calm down. Or, if you prefer it, they've got an ambulance outside.'

‘No, no, thank you,' said Ludwig, refusing my offer of the ambulance quite seriously. ‘I cannot leave the hotel now. I must clean up the mess.'

He met me later for a drink and he was still in a highly nervous condition.

‘Have you those pills for me?' he asked, plaintively. ‘With this happening now it is worse, you understand.'

‘Damn!' I said. ‘I forgot. But don't worry; you shall have them. What time do you leave?'

‘Two o'clock,' said Ludwig, like someone stating the time of his own execution.

‘I shall have lunch in the Bella Vista,' I said. Top in and have a glass before you go and I'll have the pills ready.'

Thank you,' said Ludwig. ‘I feel that without them I cannot enjoy my holiday.'

The next day, I had just demolished a delicious bowl of stracciatella, followed by a piece of crumbed veal with a green salad, accompanied by an excellent bottle of chianti, when Ludwig appeared, hands twitching, dark circles under his eyes.

‘Have you got them?' he asked, desperately.

‘Yes,' I said, giving him a professional look. ‘Now, sit down and relax for a moment. You're enough to make any woman drop her brassiere on the floor.'

I eased one of the green and black pills out of the envelope into which I had put his supply.

‘Now,' I said, in my best Harley Street manner. ‘You want to take one a day, no more. Do you understand? And only if you need it. OK?'

‘Yes! Yes!' he said, eyeing the pill as though it were a touchstone that could turn all things to gold.

I ordered another bottle of wine and poured him a glass. He gulped it down. I poured him another.

‘Now take your pill,' I said.

‘Are you sure you can drive with them?' he asked.

‘You can drink and drive,' I assured him. They've never had the slightest effect on me. I have just taken one, as a matter of fact.'

‘Good,' he said, swallowing the pill. ‘But I must drive a lot, you see, and so it is important.'

‘Quite,' I said. ‘But you're safe. They won't affect you.'

After another glass of wine, he rose to his feet and wrung my hand.

‘I am so glad we met,' he said.

‘So am I,' I said. ‘Come over and see me some time. Bring Penny. I don't mind if she drops her brassiere on the floor.'

‘You are joking,' he said, with pride. ‘I can tell now when you joke.'

‘Well, have a good holiday,' I said, and watched him twitch his way down to his Mercedes and his brief freedom from the cares of the hotel.

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