So here I am in the deep snow – well, deep enough - following behind my master.
And the snow’s getting worse and I’m getting colder. And I’m supposed to be celebrating St Stephen’s Day with the lads.
And he says, keep up, lad, no flagging. Just follow my footsteps, boy. Walk faster and you’ll keep warmer. And you won’t get lost. Get lost? I don’t think so. I know these parts like the back of my hand – if my hand wasn’t frozen that is. And, as for walking faster – I’ve got all this clobber. I’m a human donkey pulling this damn cart.
It’s alright for him, he’s the king. If he wants to go somewhere, he just says take me to so-and-so. And someone takes him there. That’s how I got this job. He said, you know these parts, take me there.
I said to him – before we set out – look, sire, the snow’s getting worse. I’m only thinking of you, sire – OK, so I was thinking of me as well. I mean why should I trudge half way across the county up to the forest? It’s not my pay-grade. I’m a page not a travel guide or one of them sherpa characters.
But, of course, the king gets it into his head – he sees this peasant from his window. He’s gathering up wood. And the king says to me – just my luck to be standing there at the time – he says – who’s that chap?
As it happened I knew who it was. With hindsight, it might have been better to say I didn’t know, never seen him before. The king would probably have said you should know, you should make it your business and so on. He’d have said, what do I pay you for? He might have cuffed me round the ear and told me to get out. But now I’d be sitting in the palace by a nice log fire with my mates, singing a few songs and getting drunk. Oh yes, in this life, it pays to say you don’t know.
So here we are in a blizzard – well, nearly – and we’ve still got to get back to the castle.
At least, we’re nearly there. I’ve got logs and bread and wine in this cart and I’m having to pull that along. We can’t send a donkey out in this weather, can we? says the king. So, guess what, I’m the donkey aren’t I?
The king gets these ideas. Let’s take some bread and wine to that lonely old peasant. Bless someone else and you will be blessed, eh lad? And I say, yes, sir, a good idea sir.
We’re nearly there. The king shouts, put your back into it, lad. Nobody got anywhere plodding along like that. Then he says, well, knock on the door, then.
Yes, sire, I say. And bang the door. The old man opens up. The king says, I’m the king, I’ve brought – notice I’ve brought, not we, not me who’s had to lug all this stuff here. He says, I’ve brought victuals.
So the old boy looks at him and says, you’re not the king – he wouldn’t be out in this weather, would he - so you can take your victuals and stick them up your… I’ll leave that last bit to your imagination. And he slams the door. Hard enough for the snow to slip off the roof on top of me. Thank you very much. And if you hear a Christmas carol that says ‘heat was in the very sod’, you now know which ‘sod’ it means.
Tony Heath
5 December 2024