147. Petey Pepperpot

Petey Pepperpot was tall and thin, with a small moustache and a pointed chin. He carried a bow and arrow, like Robin Hood, but wore a black beret with a feather in it instead of Robin’s green cap.

Petey Pepperpot was, I soon observed, an unbalanced thief. Like Ravagedland’s authorities, he, too, was having an argument. But it was with an impoverished peasant woman who was about to feed her children her last chicken.

Jane Doe stood her ground surrounded by half a dozen hungry kids and bananatrees loaded with inedible bananas that were frozen cold, shaking her puny fist at Pepperpot.

Petey was trying to be patient. There was something he needed her to understand.

                       

“And I am depriving you of this here chicken because this fellow here beside me has nothing to eat, whereas you have a chicken.”

                                 

         

“We do not,” protested Jane. “Now that you have stolen our chicken, what we have is nothing to eat.”

“Well, then,” said Petey, “tomorrow I will see what I can steal for you. Today I have already done my daily good deed. You wait here.”

“What?” cried Jane Doe. “Of course we’ll wait here. We have nowhere to go. Why don’t you just give us back the chicken and steal some other thing for that fellow?This doesn’t make sense.”

“It does to me,” insisted Petey.

He turned to a fellow that stood beside him and smiled benevolently.

“Here you are, foreign pauper, a whole chicken for you, friend. Let it not be said that Petey Pepperpot does not do justice.”

                                  

“And who is going to cook this for me?” said the fellow who had received the chicken.

Mons had told me where his brothers had stopped following Alpin. And also that Alpin seemed to be under some kind of a spell that had affected his mind. But he had not told me about the physical changes Alpin had suffered, perhaps because he did not know Alpin personally.

So I found there was something familiar about the strange man’s voice, but I could not say that I had ever seen this man before. He was more than a little peculiar. He had long floating hair with locusts roosting in it, a long floating moustache. He wore sandals that were too little for him. Their straps were loose and I remember wondering how he could walk with them. He also wore torn blue jeans and a polka dotted T-shirt. But he was cleaner than any beggar I had ever seen and did not look as if he had ever gone hungry in his life.

Petey turned to Jane Doe and asked her if she would mind cooking the chicken for the stranger.

“To top it all!” she shouted. “Why don’t you take your meddling self to the castle and and poach a partridge or a pheasant? They’ll probably never notice it is gone. You’re very brave with defenseless people, Pepperpot!”

“I don’t want to cause the sheriff any trouble,” said Pepperpot. “We get along well. In fact, I have a meeting with him now. See you tomorrow, woman. Enjoy your chicken, strange friend.”

I didn’t follow Pepperpot back to the castle because I wanted to see what would become of the hen. It turned out I wasn’t the only one worried about its fate.

“Don’t worry, lady,” whispered the strange fellow kindly to the peasant woman, “I’m not going to eat this chicken. I’ve never eaten a live animal. I couldn’t bludgeon it or anything like that and wouldn’t know how to pluck the feathers. I advise you not to eat this chicken either. I don’t know very well what it takes to make a chicken lay eggs, but I do know that if you eat her, she won’t lay any. You gave me an idea when you told Pepperpot to rob the castle. I will do just that. I’ll go up there and I’ll return with a cock and a few hens and they will be yours if you promise not to eat any animal that hasn’t died of old age. I’ll see what else I can pilfer. And don’t worry about me. I’m sure to return. I’m not just anybody.”