23. The Apothecary

Although it was almost hidden by murmurring pines and hemlock bearded with moss, there was no mistaking Henbeddestyr’s shop because it had a huge sign above it. The sign said: Henbeddestyr Parry, royal apothecary and herbalist to her majesty Queen Titania and to anyone else who comes asking for his advice.

Two much more modest, handwritten signs on the shopwindows on either side of the sparkling glass door also had something to say.

The one on the right window read: To those that seek: Three things shall you find here. They are sustenance for your health, cures for your illnesses and a shoulder to cry on. 

And if you happen to be here at twelve o’clock noon, you’ll also hear good music, added the sign on the left window.

The shop was an immaculate, luminous white. All over the walls there were bright green shelves with potted plants and baskets full of herbs that were a treat to smell and mandrake root and ginger and ginseng dolls hung from these like puppets on strings.

Behind a long, green and white counter stood Henbeddestyr himself, a large, handsome man with flashing blue eyes, a ruddy face, longish partly dark, partly silvery hair, a short moustache and a shorter beard and a gold hoop earring on the lobe of his right elfin ear.The buttons on his spotless white coat were gold too, and shone like tiny suns. His assistant, who stood beside him in an equally spotless white vest, was a small dragon with thousands of  tiny scales that looked like emerald green sequins.

“What kind of a name is Henbeddestyr?” asked Alpin before the apothecary could bid him welcome.

“A perfectly good one,” answered the apothecary.

“But what does it mean?”

“Old pedestrian.”

“What? What kind of a mother would call her son an old pedestrian?”

“One who hates automobiles. She hoped I would never drive a car and she was afraid I might be run over by one. So in giving me this name she was wishing I would live to be an old pedestrian.”

“Your mother is not only mean giving you a name like that. She’s also nuts.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know you think so. A rude boy like you should have been changed at birth. Why am I not speaking to a more agreeable child?”

“Look here, Old Pedestrian! I’m a valuable client, as you’ll find out once I start to order, so I wouldn’t begin our relationship by offending me. Foryour information, good children can never really know if their parents love them or not, but I can, because they didn’t change me for a nicer kid. I’ve noticed you have a pet dragon. I’ve also noticed he is green. I think that’s unpatriotic of you. Being Welsh, your dragon should be red. I happen to be needing a dragon. I’m willing to take this one off your hands so you can get yourself a red one. Of course, I want to see its teeth first, and if it can puff fire and do all a dragon should. I don’t want to be fooled into taking a handicapped dragon. What do you say?”

"I say you talk too much." 

“No, I say,” growled the dragon, who began to change colour until he was ruby red. And all the while he was speaking and reddening Henbeddestyr was shaking his head and wagging a finger at Alpin, meaning there was no way the he would let his assistant go.

“My name is Taffy. It means beloved. So I don’t think I will be given away. But I do know that if you come any closer to me I will burn your head to a cinder.”

And Henbeddestyr began to nod, meaning yes, the dragon would do just that.

“Yow!” said Alpin. “Your dragon is worse than a pitbull, Henbeddestyr. Do you have a license to keep a ferocious animal? What do you say to this?”

“I say it’s twelve o’clock!” cried Henbeddestyr clapping his hands happily.

A clock struck twelve to confirm his statement and he and Taffy

began to sing,

“’Rw’yn cofio ers dyddian am hen gymeriadau, Yn canu baldedi mewn marchnad a ffair –”

“What is the meaning of this?” screamed Alpin, trying to drown their strong baritone voices.

“It means: Oh, how I remember the old singers of ballads, singing their songs of joy and sorrow...,” explained the apothecary patiently.

“No! I don’t care a hoot what the gibberish means. I mean what do you mean by breaking into song like that?”

“It’s noon. Twelve is our singing hour. We sing during our lunch hour. Music is food for the soul.You may sit on that bench over there and enjoy.”

“What? You’re going to take an hour off to raise a racket and make me wait here listening to it?”

“It’s clear he understood you, Henny,” said the dragon Taffy. “You do explain yourself so well.”

Henbeddestyr nodded in agreement, and the apothecary and the dragon resumed their singing.