The person who saw us together was Uncle Gen. He was snowing softly on Grandpa’s garden. Epon sleeps during the day.
“Hi, Mama. Arley, I’d like to have a word with you,” said Uncle Gen.
“¡Leave my grandson be!” Grandma shouted at him. It was clear she had no intention of letting him speak with me. “And stop snowing. When spring comes and the snow melts, this place will turn into a swamp. It will swallow up my house. And I don’t want to be Queen of the Frogs.”
“The wildlife has left this place, Mama. There are no birds living in the trees, no moles making troublesome holes, no rabbits eating tender shoots. I don’t think there will be any frogs either.”
Grandma next began to recriminate Gen for making so much noise at night.
“Mama, I’m not responsible for the trumpet. I didn’t give Lucerna's son that caananite earsplitter. And I can’t take it from Epon. It would break his heart.”
He said he had provoked no storms until Epon had played on his nerves by toying with the trumpet. And that he would not storm again unless provoked by fresh hostilities.
“Fine,” said Grandma. “You’re being a pinch reasonable. So you can speak with my grandson. But don’t you attempt to wrap him up in a blanket, because I don’t want him to participate in this war of yours. I know what an entangler you can be. I’ve said these same exact words to your father. This lad and I are both neutral. And neutral we wish to remain.”
“Agreed. He’s your game piece. I won’t steal him. I’ll respect that.”
“No! You’re not understanding this. He’s neutral because he is independent!”
Uncle Gen didn’t insist that independent people are also a group, though much disorganized. He only promised not to try to enlist me, and Grandma left. And can you guess what, dear reader?”
Uncle Gen drew a box of earplugs out of thin air and gave it to me.
“The annoying little trumpet took me by surprise,” he said. “I only exploded because I thought it was your grandfather’s idea. That he had thought he could drive me away with its noise. But now I know better. The people that live here don’t have to put up with this. They have been working for Papa for ages and they wouldn’t know where to go if they wished to leave. They’ve done no harm to anyone. Only good. Give those earplugs to AEternus the Proud and tell him to share them with his vassals. But under no account must he know they come from me. Because he might not accept them. I’m doing this for his people. Not for him. This unconditional supporters of his are the kind that sink with a ship because their captain is a fool who wants to go down and they don’t want to abandon him or have what it takes to grab him by the hair and drag him to shore. I’m doing this because nobody should have to listen to this infernal row. You know what? When I come here at night, I wear earplugs myself.”
“Fi fashioned the trumpet and Henny gave it to Epon. Am I right?”
I asked because I wanted to be sure before I acted.
Uncle Gen nodded.
“Henny ordered it and Fi fashioned it and Henny gave it to Epon. But don’t tell anyone this.”
“No. But I think Grandpa already knows this.”
“He knows everything except how to retract. I bet he didn’t take the trumpet from Epon the minute Henny gave it to him so Epon could startle me with it.”
I entered Grandpa’s house to give him earplugs. But he wasn’t in. He was at his private golf course. And there I went and waited till he was done playing and heading towards the club's bar to have an appetizer before going home to have lunch. It would not have been a good idea to interrupt him.
“Thank you, my good grandson,” he said when I gave him most of the boxes of earplugs. "You´ve done well bringing so many. I’m going to share them with my staff. And we don’t know how long these disturbances will last. By the way, did you leave the monocle in the apotheca?”
“It should be there,” I said. “Though I don’t know whether Henny has seen it or not.
“He will. What will you have?” And Grandpa turned to the Lar that was bartender, and said to him, “Rhabarbarum, give us something nice to eat. This is my good grandson. He pleases me. I don’t know if he has been here before. You’ve never seen him around? Well, you will from now on. I’m going to teach him how to play golf.”
“Like that? Without asking me if I want to learn?” I said, smiling at Grandpa.
“Of course you do! Why wouldn't you? Now, don’t be impertinent. Not you.”
While we were having drinks and canapés, I decided to brave it and ask Grandpa why he hadn’t told me what the monocle was meant to say to Henny.
“I thought you would understand from the start. But you do now, so you caught on. Not bad. Did someone tell you or did you guess on your own?”
“When I was going to deposit the monocle in the chest where Henny keeps the earplugs, I suddenly realized you were using me to threaten him. I’m not sure I like that.”
“What?! I?! I threaten someone as if I were a gangster?”
“He was going to know it was you who had sent him the monocle, to warn him that you knew everything and that anyone could enter his shop and do anything there.”
“What? I threatening to wreck an establishment? No, grandsonny, no. What you do take your grandpa for! What I was saying to Henny was that I knew he was responsible for giving the trumpet to Epon, and that I would do nothing to him, but firmly believed he owed me some earplugs. He broke into my garden and that allowed me to break into his shop. No wrecking anything. Though to be exact, he almost busted my eardrums. He still might. If we were to name you arbiter, Arley, who would you favor? Your uncles or your grandpa?”
“This matter doesn’t have an easy solution, because none of those concerned know how to yield. If I were a judge, I would have to apply the law, and as owner of the park…”
Grandpa was going to know I had been speaking to Grandma because I had used the word park. Everyone else said garden.
“…you decide who can enter it and who has to keep out. And you can even have trespassers arrested. Except of course, we don’t have a police force, so you would have to detain them yourself turning them into stone statues. This is something convention allows if you turn them into stone in situ and leave the statues decorating the place as a warning to others. You can’t remove them elsewhere legally. But you wouldn’t do something like that to your sons, would you?”
“I hadn’t thought of that. It might not be a bad idea. Well, so you are ruling in my favour.”
“I’m not done. As proprietor, you run certain risks. You would be responsible for anything bad that could happen in the garden. Our customs allow you to keep whatever you like in there, including a mad poisner. But should someone enter the garden being unaware of its dangers, and should something happen to this someone, you would have to answer for not having warned the victim beforehand.”
“It is common knowledge that I have a mad poisoner dwelling in my garden.”
“Grandma didn’t know this when she organized the Easter egg hunt. Nor did the guests. Botolph gave no warning that he would fumigate the garden early that morning. But you should never have given him carte blanche. Having done so, his victims could sue you.”
“I liquidated damages back then. You are still ruling in my favour.”
“The law is favouring you. Not I.”
“Ah! And what do you have to say?”
“That public opinion is important too. Uncle Gen’s opinion, for instance, is that we all do all we can to drive people who don’t know how to cohabit peacefully among us from our midst. And you, Grandpa, are giving everyone a terrible example by protecting a poisoner, when you should be the first person to give a good example.”
“Here we go again. You agree with Gen?”
“I want to think that you have reasons to protect Botolph. But it does look bad that your kids and grandkids can’t play in your garden for no reasonable reason. You could keep Botolph somewhere else.”
“And they can play anywhere else in the whole world.”
“But people are judging you, and badmouthing you. Because you are a father and a grandfather and you don’t back your family.”
“I already said I would teach you how to play golf. But here. In my club. Not in my garden.”
“Like I said, this doesn’t have a good solution,” I said. “By applying the law, we don’t make anyone happy. Not even you.”
“And an alternative is?”
“An amicable settlement.”
“And what would that be about?”
“Someone would have to give.”
“I, for instance?”
“It won’t be Botolph, will it? He’s mad. He’ll never give up poisoning the garden. And he’s dreadfully stubborn.”
Grandpa laughed.
“Not as much as I am.”
“Well, then it will have to be Botolph who will give. Someone should speak to him.”
“Not I. Would you?”
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