a young man and a young woman of the town had just been elected, or acclaimed, as the king and queen of the festival, and they were standing above the crowd on some kind of platform.
gregor and the young duke of dent, who had advised gregor to address him familiarly as david, wandered through the milling crowd toward the platform.
though most of the crowd were in their colorful native costumes, no one seemed to take any particular notice of gregor and david in their plain traveling gear.
gregor noticed a young woman in the crowd, apparently alone, who was dressed in casual traveling clothes, not in costume. he steered his way toward her with david in tow.
“hullo there,” gregor addressed the young woman in the familiar way he had with everyone, “i say, do you know what this is all about?”
seen up close, the woman was not quite as young as gregor and david had first thought. they noticed that she had a little notebook in one hand and a pencil in the other. she looked at gregor as if barely registering his existence.
“it is a ceremony, “ she said, “an annual ceremony on the anniversary of great event in the history of the town.”
“and what might that great event have been?” gregor asked with a smile.
“a prince carried away a village maid and this started a great war which resulted in the village being free from tyranny forever,” the woman told gregor. “ the prince became a king and the maid became his queen.”
“that sounds jolly,” gregor agreed.
“not quite so jolly as all that. for you see, the story did not end there. for when the war was over and the people had been freed, both the king snd queen grew bored and distracted after the tumultuous events which had transformed the world of its time. the king spent more and more time with his mighty men, hunting stags in the deep wood , and banging tankards on the tables in every high and low inn in the kingdom. the queen for her part became quite friendly with a young page at the court, a nephew of one of the kings dethroned in the great war. well, you can guess what happened next.”
“the king caught the queen and the page boy and killed one or both of them to redeem his honor,” gregor replied, “because those were the good old days.”
“close, but not exactly. the king did indeed run his good sword through the bodies of both lovers, but when he did the queen turned into a red bird and flew away to the east and the page turned into a green bird and flew away to the west . legend has it that one day the two birds will return and when they do a volcano will erupt beneath the kingdom and destroy it.”
“oh dear,” laughed gregor ,”that does not sound promising at all.”
“so what is the point of the ceremony?” the young duke asked the woman with the notebook.
“every year the murder of the queen by the king is reenacted, and supposedly this keeps the birds from returning for another year.”
“you do not mean to say,” cried the duke, “that a young woman is actually killed in this ceremony! how dreadful!”
gregor and the woman both laughed at the young man’s outburst. “no, of course not,” the woman assured him. “it is only a little play, a charade, that lasts hardly ten minutes,
the duke blushed. “no, of course not, what was i thinking? but, tell me, how seriously do you think these villagers take all this.”
“how seriously does anyone take anything these days? after all, these villagers are just inhabitants of the modern world like everyone else, hearing the same news and watching the same shows as everyone else. once a year they dress up for this, for the rest of the year they probably never hear or speak a harsh word but just go about their business.”
“yes,” sighed gregor. “this modern world can not be accused of skimping on dreariness. but look here, are you some kind of journalist? i could not help noticing the little notebook you are flourishing.”
“i am indeed,” the woman replied. “i am carlotta bligh, of the international news service, at your service.”
“carlotta bligh!” exclaimed gregor. “why of course! we should have recognized you, shouldn’t we have, old boy? what a great honor!”
“you probably thought i was dead,” carlotta replied with a smile. “my fame, like that of most of my colleagues on the international beat, is not what it was.”
“nonsense! you are as famous as ever,” gregor cried gallantly. “the fault is all ours, for not recognizing you.”
gregor and the duke proceeded to properly introduce themselves, as the trio continued to approach the stage in the middle of the square.
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