1644
DAY FOURTEEN: SATURDAY
I really need this today like a bloody hole in the head, which may be what I get in a week’s time, if I’m not careful. Oh, no point in dwelling on it, is there? Gets me no sodding place other than that little bit closer to the time.
What am I talking about? I’ve got a spot! A pimple, a scar upon my beautiful visage! What do you mean you though it was serious? Of course it’s bloody serious! Look at it! It’s huge! And so is the spot! Hey, any time is a good time for humour, I’ll have you know!
I couldn't be bothered to wait for Flit this morning, so I got myself up. Good job I did, what with this goiter protruding from my face. Oh, here he comes! “What kept you, Flit? You’re a lazy, good for nothing -“
“There’s someone ‘ere to see you. Calls ‘imself Peter Ludlow. Says ‘e knows you from the wassisname - Seminary?” Oh, right. Peter Ludlow from the Seminary. I - wait a minute! I never went to the Seminary! Well, Wilfred Posster did, but - look, there’s no time to explain that now!
“Flit! Tell him - tell him I’m out! No, say I’m in bed. No, uhm, say - oh, sod it! Just lie to him, Flit! You impossibly annoying -“ No time! Out the window I go!
Thank God that thick bush was there to break my fall, eh? Almost as though it was planted there deliberately. Well, it looks like I’ve got no option. If I go to the Church he’ll find me. I need to hide out in the pub. A stroke of luck, one could say.
Ah, and here are the usual reprobates! Me, Ranker - well, me and Ranker at the moment. It is early, you know? Only the truly dedicated drinker is out at this time - or sleeping off the night before - or dying in a gutter somewhere. Pretty much amounts to the same thing, “I know, I know. The spot. You don’t need to say it.”
“I wasn’t.” Oh, that witty Ranker!
“Alright, I’ll have my drink over there, you daft old -“ Oops! I think I might have overstepped the bounds there. No, don’t look! I think he might ban me again if I look!
Bugger it. And today started off so well. Actually, no it didn’t. I had to get myself up for a start. And I do enjoy those moments I have with Flit - as I torture him mercilessly having him wash and dress me. Oh, you should see the look of horror on his face! Mind you, it’s nothing like what he inflicts on everyone else. I mean, the smells! The variety of whiffs, the timbre of hum the dirt actually exudes from his disease ridden, dirty, filthy body? Not to mention the stains! How there are that many shades of muck, I have no idea? His jacket alone would be a Museum piece, if it wasn't for the fact that no Museum could keep such a thing, as it would likely melt the other exhibits out of existence.
Oh! Spoke too soon! Here comes another reprobate! He seems to be looking for someone, though. Looks a bit rough. Like he’s been away in the sun for a while? Wonder who he’s here to - shit!
Ranker’s just pointed him in my direction! I bet it’s that Ludlow bloke! I’ll kill Flit when I get a hold of him! He only went and told the man where I am! No time! I need to get low and sneak out of here! I mean, that bloke looks like he could - well, I don’t want to speculate too long on what he would be capable of doing to me. I have enough problems as it is. A week, remember!
I don’t hear him. Maybe he’s gone away? Either that or - “Excuse me?” Nope. I didn't hear that, “You, on the floor?” Bugger. Suppose I better get up and prepare to run - “Barman over there said a friend of mine was over here, ‘cept the only person I see is you? Have you seen my friend? His name is Wilfred Posster.”
“Wilfred - Posster, you say?”
“Yeah. We go back a very long way. He’s the Rector of - wait, why are you wearing a Rector’s clothes?”
“What, these? Oh, right! Well - oh, Wilfred Posster?! Right, I know who you mean! Oh, the clothes - well, it’s like this - he’s not - wait, no, I got it - he’s a unique man, is our Rector! And no mistake! Oh, but he does hate wearing in new clothes? That’s right! It’s for a Fancy Dress thing he’s putting on for the people! Like a -“
“Oh, it don’t matter why. Is he still that lard arse I remember him to be? A little soft in the body and the head, if yer know what I mean?”
“Oh, well, yes! Of course! Nearly have to roll him out the door these days! Ha!”
“He do like his grub, that one! Anyhow, know where he’ll be, about now?” That scar looks deep! I wonder how he got it? Actually, no. Really, I want to be as far from this geezer as possible, quite frankly.
“Maybe - maybe the Church? Yes! He’ll likely be at the Church about now!” Keep smiling! I don’t think he suspects a thing!
“Right, well, I’ll check there. Nice to meet you -“
“Oh, er, Mud. Water - Walter Mudd.” Oh how imaginative you are, Mr Mudd! Jesus. I mean, name the first thing that you see, why not?
“Well, Walter - Mudd, maybe we’ll bump into each other again, eh?” Well, no, not unless it’s in prison, or in a grave. At least he’s going now. I should follow, at a discreet distance, to make sure he’s not getting into any trouble, like breaking into the Church and nicking stuff. Frankly, however, I don’t know what I would do even if he did start robbing the joint? Probably run away. That does seem my modus operandi.
“Posster! A word?” Shit! Who’s that now? Oh, God damn you, Dash! Has Ludlow noticed?
“Dash! Oh, come over here! Get out of the - erm - sunlight!”
“Oh, whatever, Posster! Look, I’ve been meaning to pin you down about His Lordship’s disappearance for some time now -“
“Oh, that? That’s what you want to talk to me about? Look, just - alright. But not now. I’ll find you tomorrow, okay?”
“Well, I would rather talk - oh -“ Shit! Ludlow’s coming over! I better hide behind this fence!
“You called for Posster? Was it Wilfred Posster?”
“The Rector Wilfred Posster? Yes.”
“Just now?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Positive, sir.”
“Posster? The rotund, old Rector?”
“Well, he is a little overweight, but I wouldn't exactly say rotund - look! He’s over there, behind that fence!” Dash, I could kill you, skin you alive, then kill you again! Where can I go?! Uhm - uhm - Trish! Trish Treyne! My saviour in dirty knickers! Remind me to - never mind, another time! He’ll never escape her now!
“You’re new, ain’tcha?”
“Sorry, I don’t have time to -“
And that’s where I leave the conversation. I’ve got to seriously hide now. I think I know who that Peter Ludlow character is now. He’s that escapee from the French Prison, where he was caught for Privateering. He’s wanted, and I bet they’re out to get him back? If only -
Look, it’s time to be honest now. I’ve given everyone the runaround long enough. Here goes - okay, so everything I've told you up to this point is a lie. I’m not actually Wilfred Posster, the Rector. I won't tell you my real name, but I will tell you that one day in the past I became in desperate need of an alias. Again, I won't tell you why. Some things are best kept quiet, you know? Besides, you’ll have a level of deniability if I keep shtum. For your protection, you understand?
So, this is how it went. I found a man murdered on the side of the road, by God only knows. I was desperate, so I searched his belongings. As it turned out, he was due to take the Rectorship of this here Vaxham Church. He had all the papers, the outfit, the whole shebang. Well, I thought, he isn't using it, is he? And who does it hurt if I just, say, borrow his name and occupation, and his position, for a while, until the heat dies down?
Of course, I got used to it. It fits a little too comfortably, so I continued perpetrating the lie. Wilfred Posster does have his advantages, and, I'm ashamed to say, I have exploited them. Yes, I feel shameful, but - you tell me, what would you have done? Don't lie. You would have done exactly what I did! Except you might not have kept the identity as long as I have. That’s my burden, and there it is.
“Fancy meeting you down there.” Oh, God, that’s all I need right now. A conversation with bloody Jimmy Boots, “So, I hear there’s this man looking for someone called Wilfred Posster? A bit of a rough cove, so I’m led to believe - not Posster, but this Ludlow chap. Oh, no - this Posster is an old man, somewhat crooked, but certainly obese? He was quite insistent with me, but I told him I’ve never heard of this Wilfred Posster. Strange that, don’t you think?”
“Look, Jimmy -“
“Oh, calm down. We don’t care who you are, or who you were. We only care about your money. Well, the Major General is still a bit miffed about the pregnancy of his girl, but - you know. Don’t you, my boy?” I think I’d almost prefer the knife in the throat than to see that crooked smile of Jimmy’s one more time, “Well, no rest for the wicked, eh, Rector?” You said it, mate.
You know, I’m beginning to wonder how Trish managed with Ludlow? She is a determined woman, I’ll give her that. It’s only fair for all the sodding things she’s given me over the years? And I am talking sexually transmitted diseases. Even now when I pass water it hurts. I could do some joke about walking over a bridge, but quite frankly, that kind of humour is beneath me. Well, actually it isn’t, but look, we don’t have the time right now. If only I didn't have this spot, today would be so much easier. Look, stop asking questions about this Posster thing! There is so much more to it, but we simply don’t -
Trish has finished with him, look! Shame. Thought she might’ve trapped him. She must be slipping. Or maybe that’s the problem. Too far? What do you mean too far?! Hey, there’s worse than that to come, I can tell you! Anyway, he’s on the move again. He’s heading for the Church! I knew it! You know, it’s almost like he’s getting closer to me, while I’m trying to avoid him? Almost like it was - no forget it. What do you think this is? A farce?
Ahem -
Hey! Careful with those doors! Keep rattling them like that and you’ll pull them off the bloody hinges! Oh, there’s Gertie Soal, the Flower Lady. No, she doesn't sell flowers. Nor pick them. But she does enjoy arranging them in the bloody Church. She’s what we call a busy-body, but in the business, we refer to her type as the Flower Lady. Well, you’ve got to have a system, haven’t you?
“It’s locked?” You tell him Gertie!
“I can see that. I was told this is where I could find someone I’m looking for. Ah, there he is! Walter Mudd! He told me this is where -“ Shit. Did he just point at me? Why am I asking that and not running?
“Who’s Walter Mudd? Oh, that’s the Rector! Rector Wilfred Posster! Rector? I think someone’s here to see - oh, he’s just ducked down behind that wall?”
“He told me his name was Mudd.”
I’m telling you, if all this gets out, it bloody might as well be! What do you mean that was a laboured pun?
Look, I’ve got to get to the Rectory and hide out there. Lots of bolt holes, so very difficult to find me there! Obviously the gig is up now. He knows I’ve been lying to him. God only knows what he’ll do to me if I let him catch me! Look, I’ve got seven days left, not seven minutes! By all that’s Holy - when I get my hands on Flit, I’ll -
“Where is my friend, Mudd? What’ve you done with him?” Oh God. That sounds venomous! Right. Where to hide? The larder’s too obvious. Under the bed? Surely that’s as safe as houses? Who would think of looking under there? No, wait! There’s that cavity in the wall, with the dresser in front of it! It’ll take a while for him to find me there! If only I can - squeeze - oh bugger! My arse is too big! Well, let’s hope he doesn't look at me this angle, or it will be a very embarrassing capture for me. How will I live it down? Oh, that’s right. If he doesn't kill me, I’ll be dead in a week. But not before Flit, I’m telling you, that little - shh! He’s coming!
“Mudd! Where are you? Do you know why I went to Prison? Oh, they say Privateering, but do you want to know really why?” Careful with the furniture! It’ll take ages to get a scratch like that out of that chair! “I killed a man with my bare hands. And you want to know why?” Hey! That’s an antique! “Because he withheld information from me! He dared to lie to me! Can you believe that?” I can believe that vase was irreplaceable, you blaggard! “It’s only a matter of time, Mudd, until I catch you and skin you! You know how I know you’re not my old friend, Wilfred Posster? I killed him! I killed him for refusing to help me! And I wanted to know who stole his name, so I could kill them also! This Church should have been mine! I worked hard for it, and that Posster, he simply took it from me, to - aha!”
Shit. He found me! I’m scared - I want my Mommy -
“Now, Mr Ludlow. Peter. Pete. P. Surely we can come to some arrangement that doesn't involve violence? I have delicate bones and they snap easily -“
“See, I knew he was dead, the minute I broke his neck? Then I left to take this Church as mine! Okay, I was waylaid somewhere on the way and got put in Prison in France for a bit, but imagine my surprise when I escaped from that Prison, only to find Wilfred Posster had indeed taken the Church in Vaxham -“
“Upper Vaxham - okay, I see. Not the point -“
“So I says to myself, ‘hey, me, let’s go to Vaxham, and see how Wilf managed to stop being dead and taking over the Rectorship of the Church there’. I thought, I got to see a miracle like that, ‘cause if it’s true, then maybe there’s a chance I can be free from incarceration.” Look, the longer he’s talking, the less time he has to smash my head into a messy pulp against the wall, or to cause me to be defenestrated quite severely!
Oh cursed damned spot! For bringing about today’s misfortunes! Out damned spot, I say! Out damned spot! Hmm. That sounds familiar?
“Well, now - if you would be so kind, Mr Ludlow to -“ He really is - quite close?
“I’m growing quite fed up with your tongue, Mudd! Think I’ll tear it out and feed it to you a’fore I -“
Okay! What now?! Who’s kicking in my door?! If, and I stress if - I get out of this, someone’s going to pay! Now who the Hell - aren't they - French Soldiers?
“Excuse me, Monsieur. I am sorry to ‘ave kicked your door down, but I could not get inside ozzerwise. Ah, Monsieur Ludlow! ‘Ow pleased we are zat zer, ‘ow you say, disgusting creature Flit ‘ere informed us, while on a visit to your interesting war, Recteur, of zer precise whereabouts of zer - dépravé? Non, zer reprobate Monsieur Ludlow! Vell, Ludlow - irions-nous? Shall we go?”
“I’ll kill this Mudd before -“ Ow! That had to hurt!
“Sank you little mole-like creature! Zat has saved us many minutes of unpleasantness! Yes?”
“Mercy! Mercy bowcoops! I am, how you say, grateful?”
“I don’t know ‘ow you say grateful, Monsieur Recteur? Pardon. We go now? Au revoir! And to you, little smelly creature!”
“Flit! You annoying little -“
“No need for thanks.”
“I wasn't going to! Where the Hell were you while I was being chased by that lunatic?”
“Gettin’ the Frenchies.”
“And why did you tell him I was down the pub, pray?”
“‘Cause I knew you’d likely snivel yer way out of trouble somehow, while givin’ ‘im the runaround. Simple.”
Snivel? Snivel?!
“Well, Flit. Let’s see how well you snivel your way out of this! Come here you little shit! Hey! Don't throw that?! That’s very expensive!”
So help me -
I really need this today like a bloody hole in the head, which may be what I get in a week’s time, if I’m not careful. Oh, no point in dwelling on it, is there? Gets me no sodding place other than that little bit closer to the time.
What am I talking about? I’ve got a spot! A pimple, a scar upon my beautiful visage! What do you mean you though it was serious? Of course it’s bloody serious! Look at it! It’s huge! And so is the spot! Hey, any time is a good time for humour, I’ll have you know!
I couldn't be bothered to wait for Flit this morning, so I got myself up. Good job I did, what with this goiter protruding from my face. Oh, here he comes! “What kept you, Flit? You’re a lazy, good for nothing -“
“There’s someone ‘ere to see you. Calls ‘imself Peter Ludlow. Says ‘e knows you from the wassisname - Seminary?” Oh, right. Peter Ludlow from the Seminary. I - wait a minute! I never went to the Seminary! Well, Wilfred Posster did, but - look, there’s no time to explain that now!
“Flit! Tell him - tell him I’m out! No, say I’m in bed. No, uhm, say - oh, sod it! Just lie to him, Flit! You impossibly annoying -“ No time! Out the window I go!
Thank God that thick bush was there to break my fall, eh? Almost as though it was planted there deliberately. Well, it looks like I’ve got no option. If I go to the Church he’ll find me. I need to hide out in the pub. A stroke of luck, one could say.
Ah, and here are the usual reprobates! Me, Ranker - well, me and Ranker at the moment. It is early, you know? Only the truly dedicated drinker is out at this time - or sleeping off the night before - or dying in a gutter somewhere. Pretty much amounts to the same thing, “I know, I know. The spot. You don’t need to say it.”
“I wasn’t.” Oh, that witty Ranker!
“Alright, I’ll have my drink over there, you daft old -“ Oops! I think I might have overstepped the bounds there. No, don’t look! I think he might ban me again if I look!
Bugger it. And today started off so well. Actually, no it didn’t. I had to get myself up for a start. And I do enjoy those moments I have with Flit - as I torture him mercilessly having him wash and dress me. Oh, you should see the look of horror on his face! Mind you, it’s nothing like what he inflicts on everyone else. I mean, the smells! The variety of whiffs, the timbre of hum the dirt actually exudes from his disease ridden, dirty, filthy body? Not to mention the stains! How there are that many shades of muck, I have no idea? His jacket alone would be a Museum piece, if it wasn't for the fact that no Museum could keep such a thing, as it would likely melt the other exhibits out of existence.
Oh! Spoke too soon! Here comes another reprobate! He seems to be looking for someone, though. Looks a bit rough. Like he’s been away in the sun for a while? Wonder who he’s here to - shit!
Ranker’s just pointed him in my direction! I bet it’s that Ludlow bloke! I’ll kill Flit when I get a hold of him! He only went and told the man where I am! No time! I need to get low and sneak out of here! I mean, that bloke looks like he could - well, I don’t want to speculate too long on what he would be capable of doing to me. I have enough problems as it is. A week, remember!
I don’t hear him. Maybe he’s gone away? Either that or - “Excuse me?” Nope. I didn't hear that, “You, on the floor?” Bugger. Suppose I better get up and prepare to run - “Barman over there said a friend of mine was over here, ‘cept the only person I see is you? Have you seen my friend? His name is Wilfred Posster.”
“Wilfred - Posster, you say?”
“Yeah. We go back a very long way. He’s the Rector of - wait, why are you wearing a Rector’s clothes?”
“What, these? Oh, right! Well - oh, Wilfred Posster?! Right, I know who you mean! Oh, the clothes - well, it’s like this - he’s not - wait, no, I got it - he’s a unique man, is our Rector! And no mistake! Oh, but he does hate wearing in new clothes? That’s right! It’s for a Fancy Dress thing he’s putting on for the people! Like a -“
“Oh, it don’t matter why. Is he still that lard arse I remember him to be? A little soft in the body and the head, if yer know what I mean?”
“Oh, well, yes! Of course! Nearly have to roll him out the door these days! Ha!”
“He do like his grub, that one! Anyhow, know where he’ll be, about now?” That scar looks deep! I wonder how he got it? Actually, no. Really, I want to be as far from this geezer as possible, quite frankly.
“Maybe - maybe the Church? Yes! He’ll likely be at the Church about now!” Keep smiling! I don’t think he suspects a thing!
“Right, well, I’ll check there. Nice to meet you -“
“Oh, er, Mud. Water - Walter Mudd.” Oh how imaginative you are, Mr Mudd! Jesus. I mean, name the first thing that you see, why not?
“Well, Walter - Mudd, maybe we’ll bump into each other again, eh?” Well, no, not unless it’s in prison, or in a grave. At least he’s going now. I should follow, at a discreet distance, to make sure he’s not getting into any trouble, like breaking into the Church and nicking stuff. Frankly, however, I don’t know what I would do even if he did start robbing the joint? Probably run away. That does seem my modus operandi.
“Posster! A word?” Shit! Who’s that now? Oh, God damn you, Dash! Has Ludlow noticed?
“Dash! Oh, come over here! Get out of the - erm - sunlight!”
“Oh, whatever, Posster! Look, I’ve been meaning to pin you down about His Lordship’s disappearance for some time now -“
“Oh, that? That’s what you want to talk to me about? Look, just - alright. But not now. I’ll find you tomorrow, okay?”
“Well, I would rather talk - oh -“ Shit! Ludlow’s coming over! I better hide behind this fence!
“You called for Posster? Was it Wilfred Posster?”
“The Rector Wilfred Posster? Yes.”
“Just now?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Positive, sir.”
“Posster? The rotund, old Rector?”
“Well, he is a little overweight, but I wouldn't exactly say rotund - look! He’s over there, behind that fence!” Dash, I could kill you, skin you alive, then kill you again! Where can I go?! Uhm - uhm - Trish! Trish Treyne! My saviour in dirty knickers! Remind me to - never mind, another time! He’ll never escape her now!
“You’re new, ain’tcha?”
“Sorry, I don’t have time to -“
And that’s where I leave the conversation. I’ve got to seriously hide now. I think I know who that Peter Ludlow character is now. He’s that escapee from the French Prison, where he was caught for Privateering. He’s wanted, and I bet they’re out to get him back? If only -
Look, it’s time to be honest now. I’ve given everyone the runaround long enough. Here goes - okay, so everything I've told you up to this point is a lie. I’m not actually Wilfred Posster, the Rector. I won't tell you my real name, but I will tell you that one day in the past I became in desperate need of an alias. Again, I won't tell you why. Some things are best kept quiet, you know? Besides, you’ll have a level of deniability if I keep shtum. For your protection, you understand?
So, this is how it went. I found a man murdered on the side of the road, by God only knows. I was desperate, so I searched his belongings. As it turned out, he was due to take the Rectorship of this here Vaxham Church. He had all the papers, the outfit, the whole shebang. Well, I thought, he isn't using it, is he? And who does it hurt if I just, say, borrow his name and occupation, and his position, for a while, until the heat dies down?
Of course, I got used to it. It fits a little too comfortably, so I continued perpetrating the lie. Wilfred Posster does have his advantages, and, I'm ashamed to say, I have exploited them. Yes, I feel shameful, but - you tell me, what would you have done? Don't lie. You would have done exactly what I did! Except you might not have kept the identity as long as I have. That’s my burden, and there it is.
“Fancy meeting you down there.” Oh, God, that’s all I need right now. A conversation with bloody Jimmy Boots, “So, I hear there’s this man looking for someone called Wilfred Posster? A bit of a rough cove, so I’m led to believe - not Posster, but this Ludlow chap. Oh, no - this Posster is an old man, somewhat crooked, but certainly obese? He was quite insistent with me, but I told him I’ve never heard of this Wilfred Posster. Strange that, don’t you think?”
“Look, Jimmy -“
“Oh, calm down. We don’t care who you are, or who you were. We only care about your money. Well, the Major General is still a bit miffed about the pregnancy of his girl, but - you know. Don’t you, my boy?” I think I’d almost prefer the knife in the throat than to see that crooked smile of Jimmy’s one more time, “Well, no rest for the wicked, eh, Rector?” You said it, mate.
You know, I’m beginning to wonder how Trish managed with Ludlow? She is a determined woman, I’ll give her that. It’s only fair for all the sodding things she’s given me over the years? And I am talking sexually transmitted diseases. Even now when I pass water it hurts. I could do some joke about walking over a bridge, but quite frankly, that kind of humour is beneath me. Well, actually it isn’t, but look, we don’t have the time right now. If only I didn't have this spot, today would be so much easier. Look, stop asking questions about this Posster thing! There is so much more to it, but we simply don’t -
Trish has finished with him, look! Shame. Thought she might’ve trapped him. She must be slipping. Or maybe that’s the problem. Too far? What do you mean too far?! Hey, there’s worse than that to come, I can tell you! Anyway, he’s on the move again. He’s heading for the Church! I knew it! You know, it’s almost like he’s getting closer to me, while I’m trying to avoid him? Almost like it was - no forget it. What do you think this is? A farce?
Ahem -
Hey! Careful with those doors! Keep rattling them like that and you’ll pull them off the bloody hinges! Oh, there’s Gertie Soal, the Flower Lady. No, she doesn't sell flowers. Nor pick them. But she does enjoy arranging them in the bloody Church. She’s what we call a busy-body, but in the business, we refer to her type as the Flower Lady. Well, you’ve got to have a system, haven’t you?
“It’s locked?” You tell him Gertie!
“I can see that. I was told this is where I could find someone I’m looking for. Ah, there he is! Walter Mudd! He told me this is where -“ Shit. Did he just point at me? Why am I asking that and not running?
“Who’s Walter Mudd? Oh, that’s the Rector! Rector Wilfred Posster! Rector? I think someone’s here to see - oh, he’s just ducked down behind that wall?”
“He told me his name was Mudd.”
I’m telling you, if all this gets out, it bloody might as well be! What do you mean that was a laboured pun?
Look, I’ve got to get to the Rectory and hide out there. Lots of bolt holes, so very difficult to find me there! Obviously the gig is up now. He knows I’ve been lying to him. God only knows what he’ll do to me if I let him catch me! Look, I’ve got seven days left, not seven minutes! By all that’s Holy - when I get my hands on Flit, I’ll -
“Where is my friend, Mudd? What’ve you done with him?” Oh God. That sounds venomous! Right. Where to hide? The larder’s too obvious. Under the bed? Surely that’s as safe as houses? Who would think of looking under there? No, wait! There’s that cavity in the wall, with the dresser in front of it! It’ll take a while for him to find me there! If only I can - squeeze - oh bugger! My arse is too big! Well, let’s hope he doesn't look at me this angle, or it will be a very embarrassing capture for me. How will I live it down? Oh, that’s right. If he doesn't kill me, I’ll be dead in a week. But not before Flit, I’m telling you, that little - shh! He’s coming!
“Mudd! Where are you? Do you know why I went to Prison? Oh, they say Privateering, but do you want to know really why?” Careful with the furniture! It’ll take ages to get a scratch like that out of that chair! “I killed a man with my bare hands. And you want to know why?” Hey! That’s an antique! “Because he withheld information from me! He dared to lie to me! Can you believe that?” I can believe that vase was irreplaceable, you blaggard! “It’s only a matter of time, Mudd, until I catch you and skin you! You know how I know you’re not my old friend, Wilfred Posster? I killed him! I killed him for refusing to help me! And I wanted to know who stole his name, so I could kill them also! This Church should have been mine! I worked hard for it, and that Posster, he simply took it from me, to - aha!”
Shit. He found me! I’m scared - I want my Mommy -
“Now, Mr Ludlow. Peter. Pete. P. Surely we can come to some arrangement that doesn't involve violence? I have delicate bones and they snap easily -“
“See, I knew he was dead, the minute I broke his neck? Then I left to take this Church as mine! Okay, I was waylaid somewhere on the way and got put in Prison in France for a bit, but imagine my surprise when I escaped from that Prison, only to find Wilfred Posster had indeed taken the Church in Vaxham -“
“Upper Vaxham - okay, I see. Not the point -“
“So I says to myself, ‘hey, me, let’s go to Vaxham, and see how Wilf managed to stop being dead and taking over the Rectorship of the Church there’. I thought, I got to see a miracle like that, ‘cause if it’s true, then maybe there’s a chance I can be free from incarceration.” Look, the longer he’s talking, the less time he has to smash my head into a messy pulp against the wall, or to cause me to be defenestrated quite severely!
Oh cursed damned spot! For bringing about today’s misfortunes! Out damned spot, I say! Out damned spot! Hmm. That sounds familiar?
“Well, now - if you would be so kind, Mr Ludlow to -“ He really is - quite close?
“I’m growing quite fed up with your tongue, Mudd! Think I’ll tear it out and feed it to you a’fore I -“
Okay! What now?! Who’s kicking in my door?! If, and I stress if - I get out of this, someone’s going to pay! Now who the Hell - aren't they - French Soldiers?
“Excuse me, Monsieur. I am sorry to ‘ave kicked your door down, but I could not get inside ozzerwise. Ah, Monsieur Ludlow! ‘Ow pleased we are zat zer, ‘ow you say, disgusting creature Flit ‘ere informed us, while on a visit to your interesting war, Recteur, of zer precise whereabouts of zer - dépravé? Non, zer reprobate Monsieur Ludlow! Vell, Ludlow - irions-nous? Shall we go?”
“I’ll kill this Mudd before -“ Ow! That had to hurt!
“Sank you little mole-like creature! Zat has saved us many minutes of unpleasantness! Yes?”
“Mercy! Mercy bowcoops! I am, how you say, grateful?”
“I don’t know ‘ow you say grateful, Monsieur Recteur? Pardon. We go now? Au revoir! And to you, little smelly creature!”
“Flit! You annoying little -“
“No need for thanks.”
“I wasn't going to! Where the Hell were you while I was being chased by that lunatic?”
“Gettin’ the Frenchies.”
“And why did you tell him I was down the pub, pray?”
“‘Cause I knew you’d likely snivel yer way out of trouble somehow, while givin’ ‘im the runaround. Simple.”
Snivel? Snivel?!
“Well, Flit. Let’s see how well you snivel your way out of this! Come here you little shit! Hey! Don't throw that?! That’s very expensive!”
So help me -
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