Hogfather

Tears of humiliated embarrassment were rolling down the old man's face.

‘—well, I'm sure it's very kind of you fine gennelmen but I ain't sure I knows how to eat swans and suchlike, but if you want a bit o' my beans you've only got to say—’

‘Let me make myself absolutely clear,’ said the king sharply. ‘This is some genuine Hogswatch charity, d'you understand? And we're going to sit here and watch the smile on your grubby but honest face, is that understood?’

‘And what do you say to the good king?’ the page prompted.

The peasant hung his head.

‘'nk you.’

‘Right,’ said the king, sitting back. ‘Now, pick up your fork—’

The door burst open. An indistinct figure strode into the room, snow swirling around it in a cloud.

WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?

The page started to stand up, drawing his sword. He never worked out how the other figure could have got behind him, but there it was, pressing him gently down again.

‘Hello, son, my name is Albert,’ said a voice by his ear. ‘Why don't you put that sword back very slowly? People might get hurt.’

A finger prodded the king, who had been too shocked to move.

WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, SIRE?

The king tried to focus on the figure. There was an impression of red and white, but black, too.

To Albert's secret amazement, the man managed to get to his feet and draw himself up as regally as he could.

‘What is going on here, whoever you are, is some fine old Hogswatch charity! And who—’

NO, IT'S NOT.

‘What? How dare you—’

WERE YOU HERE LAST MONTH? WILL YOU BE HERE NEXT WEEK? NO. BUT TONIGHT YOU WANTED TO FEEL ALL WARM INSIDE. TONIGHT YOU WILL WANT THEM TO SAY: WHAT A GOOD KING HE IS.

‘Oh, no, he's going too far again—’ muttered Albert under his breath. He pushed the page down again. “No, you stay still, sonny. Else you'll just be a paragraph.’

‘Whatever it is, it's more than he's got!’ snapped the king. ‘And all we've had from him is ingratitude—’

YES, THAT DOES SPOIL IT, DOESN'T IT? Death leaned forward. GO AWAY.

To the kings's own surprise his body took over and marched him out of the door.

Albert patted the page on the shoulder. ‘And you can run along too,’ he said.

‘—I didn't mean to go upsetting anyone, its just that I never asked no one for nothing—’ mumbled the old man, in a small humble world of his own, his hands tangling themselves together out of nervousness.

‘Best if you leave this one to me, master, if you don't mind,’ said Albert. ‘I'll be back in just a tick.’ Loose ends, he thought, that's my job. Tying up loose ends. The master never thinks things through.

He caught up with the king outside.

‘Ah, there you are, your sire,’ he said. ‘Just before you go, won't keep you a minute, just a minor point—’ Albert leaned close to the stunned monarch. ‘If anyone was thinking about making a mistake, you know, like maybe sending the guards down here tomorrow, tipping the old man out of his hovel, chuckin' him in prison, anything like that… werrlll… that's the kind of mistake he ought to treasure on account of it being the last mistake he'll ever make. A word to the wise men, right?’ He tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. ‘Happy Hogswatch.’

Then he hurried back into the hovel.

The feast had vanished. The old man was looking blearily at the bare table.

HALF-EATEN LEAVINGS, said Death. WE COULD CERTAINLY DO BETTER THAN THIS. He reached into the sack.

Albert grabbed his arm before he could withdraw his hand.

‘Mind taking a bit of advice, master? I was brung up in a place like this.’

DOES IT BRING TEARS TO YOUR EYES?

‘A box of matches to me hand, more like. Listen.’

The old man was only dimly aware of some whispering. He sat hunched up, staring at nothing.

WELL, IF YOU ARE SURE …

‘Been there, done that, chewed the bones,’ said Albert. ‘Charity ain't giving people what you wants to give, it's giving people what they need to get.’

VERY WELL.

Death reached into the sack again.

HAPPY HOGSWATCH. HO. HO. HO.

There was a string of sausages. There was a side of bacon. And a small tub of salt pork. And a mass of chitterlings wrapped up in greased paper. There was a black pudding. There were several other tubs of disgusting yet savoury pork-adjacent items highly prized in any pig-based economy. And, laid on the table with a soft thump, there was —

‘A pig's head,’ breathed the old man. ‘A whole one! Ain't had brawn in years! And a basin of pig knuckles! And a bowl of pork dripping!’

HO. HO. HO.

‘Amazing,’ said Albert. ‘How did you get the head's expression to look like the king?’

I THINK THAT'S ACCIDENTAL.

Albert patted the old man on the back.

‘Have yourself a ball,’ he said. ‘In fact, have two. Now I think we ought to be going, master.’

They left the old man staring at the laden board.

WASN'T THAT NICE? said Death, as the hogs accelerated.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Albert, shaking his head. ‘Poor old devil. Beans at Hogswatch? Unlucky, that. Not a night for a man to find a bean in his bowl.’

I FEEL I WAS CUT OUT FOR THIS SORT OF THING, YOU KNOW.

‘Really, master?’

IT'S NICE TO DO A JOB WHERE PEOPLE LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOU.

‘Ah,’ said Albert glumly.

THEY DON'T NORMALLY LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING ME.

‘Yes, I expect so.’

EXCEPT IN SPECIAL AND RATHER UNFORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCES.

‘Right, right.’

AND THEY SELDOM LEAVE A GLASS OF SHERRY OUT.

‘I expect they don't, no.’

I COULD GET INTO THE HABIT OF DOING THIS, IN FACT.

‘But you won't need to, will you, master?’ said Albert hurriedly, with the horrible prospect of being a permanent Pixie Albert looming in his mind again. ‘Because we'll get the Hogfather back, right? That's what you said we were going to do, right? And young Susan's probably bustling around…’

YES. OF COURSE.

‘Not that you asked her to, of course.’

Albert's jittery ears didn't detect any enthusiasm.

Oh dear, he thought.

I HAVE ALWAYS CHOSEN THE PATH OF DUTY.

‘Right, master.’

The sleigh sped on.

I AM THOROUGHLY IN CONTROL AND FIRM OF PURPOSE.

‘No problem there, then, master.’ said Albert.

NO NEED TO WORRY AT ALL.

‘Pleased to hear it, master.’

IF I HAD A FIRST NAME, ‘DUTY’ WOULD BE MY MIDDLE NAME.