Part 36 of Rob Donovan’s free serialised story set in the same world of Frindoth as his newly released book “Ritual of the Stones”. In this story we follow the journey of Pewtory the Lesser bard as he travels to Lilyon to witness the Ritual.
Pewtory the Lesser Bard part 36 – The Performance
Pewtory basked in the adulation of the crowd. Hundreds of people stood on their feet and thumped their palms together as they whistled and cheered. More than a few women held handkerchiefs to their eyes and even a few of the men briskly removed a sudden speck of “dirt” from their eye.
The song has been the lamentable, “she wept by the grave,” and had been Pewtory’s best ever performance. Maybe it was because the Ritual was so near, or maybe it was because the audience had been supplied with copious amounts of alcohol or maybe even it was because he had captured the agony and dolor of the widow who suffered such overwhelming loss perfectly, he could not say. All he did know was that he had given it everything he had and the audience had responded positively.
In the front row both Elsie and Arthur fought back tears. They sat proudly amongst the nobility and did not look out of pace in the slightest.
Pewtory glanced over at Bard Kallum and despite the fact Pewtory had ignored the Bard’s warning and held on to the last note for longer than was necessary, he saw that Kallum did not care, for he too wiped away a tear as he applauded.
Behind him Willow lay belly up in the bowl whilst Wisp stood vigil beside her fallen partner. Her fins tucked underneath her body to signify her remorse. Pewtory waited for the applause to die down and then snapped his fingers. The fish responded instantly and returned to life, spinning around the tank and performing a little jump. The applause erupted again.
Finally Pewtory held his hands aloft to signal for quiet. The crowd’s response was immediate and silence fell upon the room like a heavy blanket. Slowly people sat back down in their chairs.
When the room was still, Pewtory looked to the back of the hall and clapped his hands twice. The doors were flung open and four servants strode in each holding a ball in front of them. The crowd turned and craned their necks to see what was happening. A hushed whisper befell the audience as their excitement built.
When Pewtory had first performed the trick in rehearsal he had the servants waiting to the side of the stage. It had been Kallum’s idea for the servants to enter the room and take the long route to the stage, like all great bards he understood the power of anticipation.
The servants reached the stage and placed the fish bowls on to designated spots on the floor. Pewtory had marked them with chalk earlier so that only the servants and not the audience could see them.
Pewtory fell into his well practiced routine. As he had done in the Falconer’s Stump many nights ago, he teased the audience by pretending to address them and then changing his mind to adjust the distances between the glass bowls. As with the Falconer’s Stump the audience embraced the charade and laughed in all the right places.
Pewtory introduced Willow and Wisp and explained the rules of the race. The only change he made to the wager was to alter the prize from a copper coin to a gold one; somehow he did not think the privileged members of the audience would worry about gaining a copper coin.
With that he began to juggle the three coloured balls. He span in a full circle whilst juggling and received a polite round of applause.
“Right now I am juggling three balls: a red ball, a blue ball and a green ball,” he said as he hopped on one leg, the crowd clapped a little harder. “In a moment, I will deposit the balls in the crowd. If you catch a red ball, then you are lucky enough to be one participant in the race and you will be championing Willow here,”
The red fish jumped from the bowl and twisted in mid-air must to the crowd’s delight.
“If you receive the blue ball, then young Wisp will be your entry. If however, you receive the green ball, you get to come up stage, but you may get a little wet.”
The audience laughed at this and Pewtory smiled as the excitement in the room grew. He glanced at the throng of people and could have sworn that everyone was on the edge of their seats.
Pewtory caught all of the balls and then sent them hurtling into the crowd whilst he performed a somersault. The balls sailed through the air in three separate directions. He was delighted to see that class had no bearing on his tricks. The noblemen dived and scrambled to catch the balls just as much as the drunken revellers in the Falconer’s Stump.
A woman emerged from a crowd on disgruntled men holding the red ball aloft. She wore an expression of triumph on her slender face. Her short hair mildly dishevelled from the entanglement. Whereas other women had exercised restraint and left the men to wrestle for the balls, Pewtory was pleased to see there seemed to be no recriminations at the women’s perceived unseemly conduct. If anything there was regret on the women’s face who decided not to engage in the pursuit of the ball.
A cry of jubilation followed by several groans emerged from the Bard’s left. A man so short that Pewtory could not see him until he walked down the aisle towards the stage held the blue ball up high as if a badge of honour. The way the man beamed suggested to Pewtory that any struggles the man had endured due to his height had suddenly been erased.
Finally laughter broke out near the front as a fat man with silver spiky hair sheepishly held the green ball in his pudgy hand.
“If I had to put money on who would get the green ball it would have been you Hanley,” Someone taunted from the audience.
“I will be willing to trade it with you for a slice of cake,” The fat man said as he turned to the crowd. This bought more good natured laughter.
“Looks like you will just be on water for the rest of the evening,” someone else shouted.
Pewtory smiled. He had never felt more content. He had an audience larger than he could have ever imagined and they loved every second of his act. If this was to be the pinnacle of his career then he could live with that.
The woman with the red ball introduced herself as Rimena a resident of Boscalt. The mention of the home town earned her a loud cheer. The short man was called Jaggers and resided from the nearby village of Lullmery – he instantly got booed and hissed which he pretended to be hurt by.
Pewtory offered the two a chance to swap balls and back the other fish but both were content with their lot.
“What do I do?” Hanley asked.
“Eat and drink an awful lot by the looks of it,” Pewtory said and earned himself a cheap laugh from both the crowd and Hanley himself. “You my friend have the best view in the palace.
With that Pewtory increased the distance from Willow and Wisp’s bowl and the final bowl in the circuit. Both bowls were at the centre of the stage so the crowd could witness the final jump of the fish.
“If you would like to lie down between the two bowls pleas? Don’t worry I was only joking about getting wet.”
The crowd jeered at the comment but then erupted as the second Hanley lay down both Willow and Wisp sent a wave of water over the lip of their bowl and onto the fat man’s face. He sat up spluttering and clawing his eyes as he played to the crowd.
Seconds later, Pewtory had settled the crowd and announced the start of the race by delicately dropping a few drops of the pink vial into the fish bowl. Willow and Wisp’s response was immediate and they raced around the bowl, increasing their speed.
Pewtory stood back and was torn between watching his fish perform and watching the wonderment on the faces of the crowd. Wisp was the first to jump and spun in the air as her fins wind milled sending droplets of water across the stage. The crowd gasped until the fish landed safely in the second bowl and then they erupted with glee.
Pewtory caught sight of Kallum as Willow followed closely behind. The Bard winked at Pewtory and gave him a subtle thumbs up. In the front row Elsie’s smile was so wide that the wrinkles on her face doubled. Beside her Arthur shook his head in disbelief.
Pewtory returned his attention to the race. Wisp had now taken the lead. It did not matter who won though. It never did. The fish always knew to make the race exciting, colliding in mid-air or pretending to just make the bowl by catching the lid. This was years of hard-work finally paying off.
Beside him, Jaggers and Rimena urged on the two fish with alacrity, pumping the air when their competitor took the lead. Hanley lay on the floor eagerly anticipating the moment when the fish would pass over him. It had been a spur of the moment thing to include Hanley but it had paid off. Pewtory had wanted to distinguish the performance from all the other times he had carried it out. Hanley would be the only man to witness the trick from underneath.
Both fish landed in the fourth bowl at the same time, timing the landing perfectly so that Hanley received another splash to the face. Pewtory could not help himself and leaned forward to see who would win. When he first started the act he had kept a mental record of who had the most wins just for his own amusement. The outcomes always evened themselves out though. It seemed neither fish was concerned with superiority over the other.
The noise in the room reached a crescendo as excitement reached a feverish level. It was Wisp that emerged from the water first. Her fins spread for dramatic effect as leaving a spray of water in her trail, which would soak Hanley. Pewtory waited for Willow’s close pursuit but it never came.
Hanley’s hand shot up and caught the blue fish in mid air. Pewtory cried out in despair as he saw the fish struggle in the clenched fist. It took the Bard a few moments to register that the room was silent as Hanley sat up and stared Pewtory.
“Pewtory the even Lesser Bard. You seem to have become distracted from your quest,” Hanley said.
