To Hwel’s irritation Nanny Ogg hitched up her skirts and scrambled on to the board, inserting herself between Tomjon and the dwarf and then twisting like an oyster knife until she occupied half the seat.
‘You mentioned salt pork,’ she said. ‘There wouldn’t be any mustard, would there?’
‘No,’ said Hwel sullenly.
‘Can’t abide salt pork without condiments,’ said Nanny conversationally. ‘But pass it over, anyway.’ Wimsloe wordlessly handed over the basket holding the troupe’s supper. Nanny lifted the lid and gave it a critical assessment.
‘That cheese in there is a bit off,’ she said. ‘It needs eating up quick. What’s in the leather bottle?’
‘Beer,’ said Tomjon, a fraction of a second before Hwel had the presence of mind to say, ‘Water.’
‘Pretty weak stuff,’ said Nanny, eventually. She fumbled in her apron pocket for her tobacco pouch.
‘Has anyone got a light?’ she inquired.
A couple of actors produced bundles of matches. Nanny nodded, and put the pouch away.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Now, has anyone got any tobacco?’
Half an hour later the lattys rattled over the Lancre Bridge, across some of the outlying farmlands, and through the forests that made up most of the kingdom.
‘This is it?’ said Tomjon.
‘Well, not all of it,’ said Nanny, who had been expecting rather more enthusiasm. ‘There’s lots more of it behind the mountains over there. But this is the flat bit.’
‘You call this flat?’
‘Flattish,’ Nanny conceded. ‘But the air’s good. That’s the palace up there, offering outstanding views of the surrounding countryside.’
‘You mean forests.’
‘You’ll like it here,’ said Nanny encouragingly.
‘It’s a bit small.’
Nanny thought about this. She’d spent nearly all her life inside the boundaries of Lancre. It had always seemed about the right size to her.
‘Bijou,’ she said. ‘Handy for everywhere.’
‘Everywhere where?’
Nanny gave up. ‘Everywhere close,’ she said.
Hwel said nothing. The air was good, rolling down the unclimbable slopes of the Ramtops like a sinus wash, tinted with turpentine from the high forests. They passed through a gateway into what was, up here, probably called a town; the cosmopolitan he had become decided that, down on the plains, it would just about have qualified, as an open space.
‘There’s an inn,’ said Tomjon doubtfully.
Hwel followed his gaze. ‘Yes,’ he said, eventually. ‘Yes, it probably is.’
‘When are we going to do the play?’
‘I don’t know. I think we just send up to the castle and say we’re here.’ Hwel scratched his chin. ‘Fool said the king or whoever would want to see the script.’
Tomjon looked around Lancre town. It seemed peaceful enough. It didn’t look like the kind of place likely to turn actors out at nightfall. It needed the population.
‘This is the capital city of the kingdom,’ said Nanny Ogg. ‘Well-designed streets, you’ll notice.’
‘Streets?’ said Tomjon.
‘Street,’ corrected Granny. ‘Also houses in quite good repair, stone’s throw from river—’
‘Throw?’
‘Drop,’ Nanny conceded. ‘Neat middens, look, and extensive—’
‘Madam, we’ve come to entertain the town, not buy it,’ said Hwel.
Nanny Ogg looked sidelong at Tomjon.
‘Just wanted you to see how attractive it is,’ she said.
‘Your civic pride does you credit,’ said Hwel. ‘And now, please, leave the cart. I’m sure you’ve got some wood to gather. Lawks.’
‘Much obliged for the snack,’ said Nanny, climbing down.
‘Meals,’ corrected Hwel.
Tomjon nudged him. ‘You ought to be more polite,’ he said. ‘You never know.’ He turned to Nanny. ‘Thank you, good – oh, she’s gone.’
‘They’ve come to do a theatre,’ said Nanny.
Granny Weatherwax carried on shelling beans in the sun, much to Nanny’s annoyance.
‘Well? Aren’t you going to say something? I’ve been finding out things,’ she said. ‘Picking up information. Not sitting around making soup—’
‘Stew.’
‘I reckon it’s very important,’ sniffed Nanny.
‘What kind of a theatre?’
‘They didn’t say. Something for the duke, I think.’
‘What’s he want a theatre for?’
‘They didn’t say that, either.’
‘It’s probably all a trick to get in the castle,’ Granny said knowingly. ‘Very clever idea. Did you see anything in the carts?’
‘Boxes and bundles and such.’
‘They’ll be full of armour and weapons, depend upon it.’
Nanny Ogg looked doubtful.
They didn’t look very much like soldiers to me. They were awfully young and spotty.’
‘Clever. I expect in the middle of the play the king will manifest his destiny, right where everyone can see him. Good plan.’
‘That’s another thing,’ said Nanny, picking up a bean pod and chewing it. ‘He doesn’t seem to like the place much.’
‘Of course he does. It’s in his blood.’
‘I brought him the pretty way. He didn’t seem very impressed.’
Granny hesitated.
‘He was probably suspicious of you,’ she concluded. ‘He was probably too overcome to speak, really.’
She put down the bowl of beans and looked thoughtfully at the trees.
‘Have you got any family still working up at the castle?’ she said.
‘Shirl and Daff help out in the kitchens since the cook went off his head.’
‘Good. I’ll have a word with Magrat. I think we should see this theatre.’
‘Perfect,’ said the duke.
‘Thank you,’ said Hwel.
‘You’ve got it exactly spot on about that dreadful accident,’ said the duke. ‘You might almost have been there. Ha. Ha.’
‘You weren’t, were you?’ said Lady Felmet, leaning forward and glaring at the dwarf.
‘I just used my imagination,’ said Hwel hurriedly. The duchess glared at him, suggesting that his imagination could consider itself lucky it wasn’t being dragged off to the courtyard to explain itself to four angry wild horses and a length of chain.
‘Exactly right,’ said the duke, leafing one-handedly through the pages. ‘This is exactly, exactly, exactly how it was.’
‘Will have been,’ snapped the duchess.
The duke turned another page.
‘You’re in this too,’ he said. ‘Amazing. It’s a word for word how I’m going to remember it. I see you’ve got Death in it, too.’
‘Always popular,’ said Hwel. ‘People expect it.’
‘How soon can you act it?’
‘Stage it,’ corrected Hwel, and added, ‘We’ve tried it out. As soon as you like.’ And then we can get away from here, he said to himself, away from your eyes like two raw eggs and this female mountain in the red dress and this castle which seems to act like a magnet for the wind. This is not going to go down as one of my best plays, I know that much.
‘How much did we say we were going to pay you?’ said the duchess.
‘I think you mentioned another hundred silver pieces,’ said Hwel.
‘Worth every penny,’ said the duke.
Hwel left hurriedly, before the duchess could start to bargain. But he felt he’d gladly pay something to be out of this place. Bijou, he thought. Gods, how could anyone like a kingdom like this?
The Fool waited in the meadow with the lake. He stared wistfully at the sky and wondered where the hell Magrat was. This was, she said, their place; the fact that a few dozen cows also shared it at the moment didn’t appear to make any difference.
She turned up in a green dress and a filthy temper.
‘What’s all this about a play?’ she said.
The Fool sagged on to a willow log.
‘Aren’t you glad to see me?’ he said.
‘Well, yes. Of course. Now, this play . . .’
‘My lord wants something to convince people that he is the rightful King of Lancre. Himself mostly, I think.’
‘Is that why you went to the city?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s disgusting!’
The Fool sat calmly. ‘You would prefer the duchess’s approach?’ he said. ‘She just thinks they ought to kill everyone. She’s good at that sort of thing. And then there’d be fighting, and everything. Lots of people would die anyway. This way might be easier.’
‘Oh, where’s your spunk, man?’
‘Pardon?’
‘Don’t you want to die nobly for a just cause?’
‘I’d much rather live quietly for one. It’s all right for you witches, you can do what you like, but I’m circumscribed,’ said the Fool.
Magrat sat down beside him. Find out all about this play, Granny had ordered. Go and talk to that jingling friend of yours. She’d replied, He’s very loyal. He might not tell me anything. And Granny had said, This is no time for half measures. If you have to, seduct him.
‘When’s this play going to be, then?’ she said, moving closer.
‘Marry, I’m sure I’m not allowed to tell you,’ said the Fool. ‘The duke said to me, he said, don’t tell the witches that it’s tomorrow night.’
‘I shouldn’t, then,’ agreed Magrat.
‘At eight o’clock.’
‘I see.’
‘But meet for sherry beforehand at seven-thirty, i’faith.’
‘I expect you shouldn’t tell me who is invited, either,’ said Magrat.
‘That’s right. Most of the dignitaries of Lancre. You understand I’m not telling you this.’
‘That’s right,’ said Magrat.
‘But I think you have a right to know what it is you’re not being told.’