Ragnarok and Rascal’s Monmouth Adventure (1)

Yes, I am Ragnarok. Good of you to be so punctual. Please take a seat. No, over there would be better. That's the ticket. You’ll have heard of me from the epic poem, no doubt, the one that begins: Round and round old Ragnarok the ragged Rascal ran. You know it? Of course you do. Everyone does. I was quite flattered when the bard first penned it but these days, to be frank, it’s a bit of a burden. No privacy, d’you see? Everyone thinks your life is in the public domain, that they are entitled to accost you in the street, prod you, peer through your windows and help themselves to souvenirs from your dragons’ teeth collection. The Pepper Artsy are the worst, lying in wait to paint your portrait wherever you go and complaining when you won’t stand still. Would you care for a Mint of Interminable Sucking, by the way? They’re in the packet … that’s it, just help yourself.

So what would you like to know? You’ll forgive me if I don’t talk about my Hero Quest - dragons slain, foes vanquished, magical artefacts discovered and so forth. I do find the trivia of daily life so tedious and it’s all in my runes anyway. Just look it up if you need any background material. Instead, let me tell you about the time I wrestled the shoe-shop ogre for possession of the Boots of Comfy Walking. Everyone likes that one. It happened like this… Oh, you’ve heard it? Well, let me think.

Have you heard of my voyages on the Bus of Frequent Stopping? I come out of that one very well, you know, it illustrates some of my finest qualities. Not that one again? Oh. Then what about my viewbox encounter with the Enders of the East? My nephew has heard that one fifteen times and still pretends to enjoy it. No?

Oh, I know, there's my expedition to the Site of Tourist Enchantment. That’s where I acquired the Tome of Informative Guiding, which I still have to this very day. If you’d care to look on the top shelf, next to… Well I’m sorry but those are my best stories. I don’t know what else I can tell you. Oh, I see. The time Rascal and I went to Monmouth. H’mmmm. I don’t usually talk about that, my other stories are so much better. Oh well, if you must.

You’ve met Rascal, of course. His Gift is that he can walk in all possible directions of the compass. Every one of them. Did he give you a demonstration? I thought as much. He’s inclined to get a little carried away and run rings around people, but one can’t blame him. If I had such a Gift I’d want to show it off too. My Gift, as I'm sure you know, is that I can become visible at will. Anybody close by and looking in my direction can see me! No, I can't make myself invisible, that's a different Gift entirely. Mine is visibility. Please try to pay attention.

Anyway, on the day prior to that of which I speak, the day before our visit to Monmouth, a peddler called at Rascal's door. "A pauncet of grisling for your lordship?" the scoundrel grovelled. Now, Rascal thrives on flattery and calling him ‘your lordship’ pretty well guaranteed the peddler a sale. Not only did he buy several pauncets of the peddler’s wares, but he invited him in to share some Beer of Silly Talking and they exchanged Tales of Extravagant Tallness until well into the night. The peddler told extraordinary tales of his home town, Monmouth, which had Rascal enthralled.

At some point Rascal fell asleep, whereupon the peddler made off with his purse and such valuables as he could fit in his larrysack and was never seen again. It’s a standard protective spell, insurance companies insist on it, and he was soon apprehended when the coppers noticed a larrysack apparently floating through the air unaided. But the peddler had left something behind, and that was a conviction in Rascal’s mind that he could not live a single day longer without seeing Monmouth for himself.

You have to remember that Monmouth in those days was a very different place from what it is today. For one thing, there were upwards of five hundred people living in the town and its immediate surroundings. Can you imagine that? Suppose they had all decided to go to the same place at the same time! It would have been absolute chaos. The fire brigade had plans for just such a contingency. They would hose them with Water of Unaccountable Wetness until they decided to go elsewhere. But they were living in constant peril of a trampling and crushing and this, among other things, dissuaded sensible folk from visiting the town.

But you know what Rascal’s like, impetuous. I sometimes make a little joke about him. Would you care to hear it? He can’t so much as look at a rillo without amming it, I say, and he always wants to know if he’s doing it right. The number of times he’s asked me, "Is this the way to am a rillo?" Yes, I know it’s in the poem, but the old ones are always the best, don’t you find? You know what’s coming. No nasty surprises. At my age I find that quite comforting. Do have another mint, by the way.

Where was I? Oh yes, Rascal’s impulse to visit Monmouth. He asked me to accompany him and I reluctantly agreed. I had misgivings of course, but he’d only get into trouble if he went alone, and I knew better than to try talking him out of it when his enthusiasm was in full flood. And so we went. On the road we fell in with a caravan of traders from the Orient bearing colourful plastic ducks and sacks of finest graffiti. I explained in mime that Rascal and I wished to see the sights of Monmouth. They replied in English that we were welcome to accompany them in return for a small contribution to the upkeep of their wives, and thus was our journey managed.

As we neared the town gates the caravan’s progress was slowed by the crowds, so Rascal and I parted company with them since we could move faster on our own. We mimed our goodbyes and they ignored us in a language quite unknown to me. Rascal helped himself to a red plastic duck as a souvenir and we made our way to the customs post.

On the wall to the right of the city gate was a tariff of bribes. After a little discussion we paid sufficient to insure against being prodded by pikemen and arrested on fabricated charges, collected out receipts and entered the town.
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To be continued?