The Last Dragonslayer

appreciate your position in all this and I hope I can trust in your loyalty to Hereford?’

I was suspicious about his rapid about-face but decided not to show it.

‘You can, Sire.’

‘Perhaps you would consider a small request that I have in mind, then?’

‘And that is... ?’

He shook his head sadly.

‘No no no. I am the King. You say yes, then ask me what I require. Your upbringing has not been good, girl.’

‘Very well,’ I replied, ‘I will consider very carefully any request my King might make of me.’

‘A bit better,’ conceded the King doubtfully. ‘You realise that only you can get into the Dragonlands?’

I nodded.

‘Good. I should like you to stake the claim of this crown all over the Dragonlands. So when the good Dragon dies, your monarch and state will be in a more powerful position to better serve its citizens. In return for this I offer you the title of marchioness and a hundred-acre tract of the Dragonlands. Am I not the most generous king ever?’

‘I will consider what you have said most carefully, my Lord.’

‘That’s all agreed then. Lord Chief Adviser, would you show this good lady to my car?’

The royal adviser took me firmly by the arm and we backed away together for a respectable distance before turning our backs on the King and leaving the room.

‘I am Lord Tenbury, Miss Strange,’ announced the adviser in a kindly tone. ‘You may call me Tenbury. I was an adviser to the King’s father. You will forgive King Snodd’s quick temper.’

We continued to walk along the corridor.

‘You have trouble with the Duke of Brecon?’ I asked him.

‘As usual.’ He sighed. ‘Brecon would dearly love to expand into the Dragonlands as soon as Maltcassion dies and I’m afraid we can’t allow that to happen. You and your apprentice have the only access to the Dragonlands and that is very useful to us. I beg you to consider the King’s request most carefully.’

He stopped and looked into my eyes with an earnest expression.

‘Remember you are a subject of King Snodd, Jennifer, and that your duty as a Dragonslayer is second only to your duty as a loyal defender of this crown.’

‘All I want is the best for the Dragon, Tenbury.’

The adviser smiled.

‘Things are never as simple as they appear, Miss Strange. By taking on the mantle of Dragonslayer you have inherited a political position every bit as delicate as that of the skilled court adviser. I hope in all this you will make the right decisions.’

We had reached the front door, where the mute driver with the Jaguar awaited me.

‘There is one other thing I would ask of you,’ said Tenbury, looking about nervously and moving closer.

‘I respect your candour, sir,’ I replied. ‘What do you wish?’

‘That you think very carefully about merchandising.’

‘What?’

‘Merchandising. Dragonslayer toys, games and so forth. It’s big business these days; the King’s useless brother and myself are regional representatives of Consolidated Useful Stuff and have been authorised to offer you twenty per cent of everything sold. We think that plastic swords are probably worth a half million in sales alone.’

He smiled and gave me his card.

‘Promise me you’ll think about it?’

‘I will promise you that.’

Up until that point, I had almost liked him. I sighed deeply. King Snodd’s rapid about-face meant only one thing: I hadn’t heard the last from him.

Yogi Baird

‘What did the King have to say?’ asked Gordon van Gordon, who was doing the washing up in a flowery pinny. He had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, but was still wearing his brown derby hat.

‘My appointment yesterday has made everybody think that Maltcassion isn’t long for this world. Brecon is looking to increase his lands and the King is unwilling to let him do so. They want us to lay out the Crown’s claims on the Dragonlands before he dies, thus allowing the land to cede painlessly into Snodd’s hands.’

‘I see,’ said Gordon, ‘and what are your opinions on these matters?’

‘I’m a Dragonslayer,’ I replied, ‘not an estate agent. It won’t make me very popular with the King, though.’

‘I agree with that. But you must do what you feel is right. Fancy a cup of tea?’

I nodded gratefully.

‘I had another call from Fizzi-Pop,’ said Gordon.

‘Oh yes?’

‘They upped their offer to fifty thousand for your endorsement.’

‘What about Yummy-Flakes?’

‘They only went as far as forty. ConStuff want to talk some more about merchandising rights, Cheap & Cheerful want to launch a line of Jennifer Strange sporting clothes, and ToyStuff want a licence to release a model of the Slayermobile. The bookies won’t take any bets for you to win but they are offering the Dragon three hundred to one, and a tie at five hundred to one.’

‘Is that all?’

Gordon smiled, finished filling the kettle and plugged it in.

‘No. MolluscTV want to do a documentary about you and the UKBC’s wildlife department is interested in you taking a camera into the Dragonlands. I’ve had three producers wanting to buy the exclusive rights to your story and one even said that Sandy O’Cute was very big on the idea of playing you in the movie.’

‘I bet she was.’

‘In your mail, ninety-seven per cent want you to kill the Dragon and three per cent want you to leave it alone. Five people have written in with offers of marriage, and two have claimed they are the real Dragonslayer. One little old lady in Chepstow wants you to use your sword to dispose of a particularly invasive thorn tree, and another in Cirencester wants you to appear at a fund-raiser for the Troll Wars Orphans appeal. And finally, the Wessex Rolls-Royce club want you to bring the Slayermobile on a rally next month.’

‘And this is just the beginning,’ I murmured.

Gordon poured the boiling water into the teapot.

‘It’ll calm down, as soon as there’s no more news.’

‘I hope. Milk, please, and half a sugar. Mind you, I’m not averse to appearing for the Troll Wars Orphans appeal.’

The doorbell rang. Gordon looked at his watch and pulled off his pinny.

‘Who’s that?’ I asked.

‘TheYogi Baird Daytime TV Show. You said you’d do a live phone-in from here.’

‘I did, didn’t I?’

He opened the door and Yogi Baird strode in, shook my hand, grinned wildly and said how wonderful it was to meet me and how he simply knew it would be a great show. As he was telling me this he was being dabbed at by a make-up woman. They were joined by a cameraman, an engineer, two electricians, a producer, three PAs and someone who wore black whose function it was to talk about not very much on a mobile phone. Within a short time they had the camera set up and a live uplink to a local transmitter. The same make-up person faffed over me as they set up two chairs in front of the