Hogfather

‘—I didn’t mean to go upsetting anyone, it’s just that I never asked no one for nothing—’ mumbled the old man, in a small humble world of his own, his hands tangling themselves together out of nervousness.

‘Best if you leave this one to me, master, if you don’t mind,’ said Albert. ‘I’ll be back in just a tick.’ Loose ends, he thought, that’s my job. Tying up loose ends. The master never thinks things through.

He caught up with the king outside.

‘Ah, there you are, your sire,’ he said. ‘Just before you go, won’t keep you a minute, just a minor point—’ Albert leaned close to the stunned monarch. ‘If anyone was thinking about making a mistake, you know, like maybe sending the guards down here tomorrow, tipping the old man out of his hovel, chuckin’ him in prison, anything like that … werrlll … that’s the kind of mistake he ought to treasure on account of it being the last mistake he’ll ever make. A word to the wise men, right?’ He tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. ‘Happy Hogswatch.’

Then he hurried back into the hovel.

The feast had vanished. The old man was looking blearily at the bare table.

HALF-EATEN LEAVINGS, said Death. WE COULD CERTAINLY DO BETTER THAN THIS. He reached into the sack.

Albert grabbed his arm before he could withdraw his hand.

‘Mind taking a bit of advice, master? I was brung up in a place like this.’

DOES IT BRING TEARS TO YOUR EYES?

‘A box of matches to me hand, more like. Listen …’

The old man was only dimly aware of some whispering. He sat hunched up, staring at nothing.

WELL, IF YOU ARE SURE …

‘Been there, done that, chewed the bones,’ said Albert. ‘Charity ain’t giving people what you wants to give, it’s giving people what they need to get.’

VERY WELL.

Death reached into the sack again.

HAPPY HOGSWATCH. HO. HO. HO.

There was a string of sausages. There was a side of bacon. And a small tub of salt pork. And a mass of chitterlings wrapped up in greased paper. There was a black pudding. There were several other tubs of disgusting yet savoury pork-adjacent items highly prized in any pig-based economy. And, laid on the table with a soft thump, there was— ‘A pig’s head,’ breathed the old man. ‘A whole one! Ain’t had brawn in years! And a basin of pig knuckles! And a bowl of pork dripping!’

HO. HO. HO.

‘Amazing,’ said Albert. ‘How did you get the head’s expression to look like the king?’

I THINK THAT’S ACCIDENTAL.

Albert patted the old man on the back.

‘Have yourself a ball,’ he said. ‘In fact, have two. Now I think we ought to be going, master.’

They left the old man staring at the laden board.

WASN’T THAT NICE? said Death, as the hogs accelerated.

‘Oh, yes,’ said Albert, shaking his head. ‘Poor old devil. Beans at Hogswatch? Unlucky, that. Not a night for a man to find a bean in his bowl.’

I FEEL I WAS CUT OUT FOR THIS SORT OF THING, YOU KNOW.

‘Really, master?’

IT’S NICE TO DO A JOB WHERE PEOPLE LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING YOU.

‘Ah,’ said Albert glumly.

THEY DON’T NORMALLY LOOK FORWARD TO SEEING ME.

‘Yes, I expect so.’

EXCEPT IN SPECIAL AND RATHER UNFORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCES.

‘Right, right.’

AND THEY SELDOM LEAVE A GLASS OF SHERRY OUT.

‘I expect they don’t, no.’

I COULD GET INTO THE HABIT OF DOING THIS, IN FACT.

‘But you won’t need to, will you, master?’ said Albert hurriedly, with the horrible prospect of being a permanent Pixie Albert looming in his mind again. ‘Because we’ll get the Hogfather back, right? That’s what you said we were going to do, right? And young Susan’s probably bustling around …’

YES. OF COURSE.

‘Not that you asked her to, of course.’

Albert’s jittery ears didn’t detect any enthusiasm.

Oh dear, he thought.

I HAVE ALWAYS CHOSEN THE PATH OF DUTY.

‘Right, master.’

The sleigh sped on.

I AM THOROUGHLY IN CONTROL AND FIRM OF PURPOSE.

‘No problem there, then, master,’ said Albert.

NO NEED TO WORRY AT ALL.

‘Pleased to hear it, master.’

IF I HAD A FIRST NAME, ‘DUTY’ WOULD BE MY MIDDLE NAME.

‘Good.’

NEVERTHELESS …

Albert strained his ears and thought he heard, just on the edge of hearing, a voice whisper sadly.

HO. HO. HO.

There was a party going on. It seemed to occupy the entire building.

‘Certainly very energetic young men,’ said the oh god carefully, stepping over a wet towel. ‘Are women allowed in here?’

‘No,’ said Susan. She stepped through a wall into the superintendent’s office.

A group of young men went past, manhandling a barrel of beer.

‘You’ll feel bad about it in the morning,’ said Bilious. ‘Strong drink is a mocker, you know.’

They set it up on a table and knocked out the bung.

‘Someone’s going to have to be sick after all that,’ he said, raising his voice above the hubbub. ‘I hope you realize that. You think it’s clever, do you, reducing yourself to the level of the beasts of the field … er … or the level they’d sink to if they drank, I mean.’

They moved away, leaving one mug of beer by the barrel.

The oh god glanced at it, and picked it up and sniffed at it.

‘Ugh.’

Susan stepped out of the wall.

‘He hasn’t been back for— What’re you doing?’

‘I thought I’d see what beer tastes like,’ said the oh god guiltily.