The Great Troll War

Sir Matt Grifflon

He wasn’t alone, as any knight worth their spurs always had a retinue of hangers-on which generally included a couple of lute-playing minstrels who would sing songs about the knight’s achievements, several squires, an accountant, a make-up and hair stylist combined, a gun bearer, his agent, two valets, a dozen or so armed guards and, at the front, an ornamental hermit whose function was to spout meaningless aphorisms on demand. The latter bowed and took a deep breath.

‘A man’s word is the bond of past friendships in Kent,’ he intoned gravely, ‘and fish do not walk when there is water in which to swim.’

I looked at Tiger, who shrugged. He thought it was nonsense too.

‘Consider the tadpole,’ said the hermit as an afterthought, then bowed again and stepped aside with a flourish as Sir Matt took a dramatic pace forward.

‘Please don’t get up,’ he said, although as far as I could see no one was going to, ‘everything is now okay since I am here.’

Princess Jocaminca, recently recovered, swooned again, but more showily, hoping to gain his attention.

‘United under my ruggedly masculine leadership,’ he continued, ‘we will vanquish the Troll and lead the Kingdoms into new and broad sunlit uplands. Furthermore …’

He carried on in this vein for several minutes. While he was talking about honour and loyalty and personal self-sacrifice – although not necessarily his own – everyone looked a little bored. Some people doodled on their pads, the Dragons started playing Scrabble with their neighbours and Tiger got out his yo-yo. The Princess leaned across to me and whispered:

‘Have you come across this buttfish20 before?’

‘Several times,’ I replied. ‘He tried to kill me on the orders of your father. Weirdly, I was a huge fan when I was much younger, and even had a poster of him in my room.’

This wasn’t unusual, as Sir Matt Grifflon, in addition to his role as the King of Snodd’s favourite knight and enforcer, was also a successful recording artist. His last single, ‘A horse, a song and me’, had been a huge hit, and when not searching for a princess with a suitably large Kingdom to marry, he also did concert tours and was a dab hand at jousting.

‘Don’t trust him an inch,’ said the Princess. ‘He was always a pain in the bum back in the palace, strutting around the place and cosying up to Mummy and Daddy. My father wanted to sell him a marriage option but Mummy wouldn’t allow it.’

‘He’ll want to marry you now.’

‘What, me, in my scrawny handmaiden’s body?’

‘Knowing Grifflon,’ I said, ‘he’ll have definitely figured out Rule 35b and will warmly embrace you with flattery.’

‘… and leave no stone unturned as we expel this vile evil from our land,’ concluded Sir Matt, and then, noticing Colin for the first time, yelled: ‘Dragon!’ and approached Colin menacingly, his large and very ornate sword now out of its scabbard. The Dragon, however, merely raised an eyebrow in a bored kind of way.

‘Loathsome beast!’ yelled Sir Matt. ‘Destroyer of all that is good and wholesome, prepare to meet thy maker!’

He raised his sword to strike but Colin, with an almost effortless twitch of his tail, severed Sir Matt’s sword neatly at the hilt – the blade of which clattered harmlessly to the floor.

Sir Matt stared stupidly at the broken sword for a few moments.

‘That was very expensive,’ he said reproachfully. ‘You should be more respectful of other people’s property.’

‘And you should be more respectful of others’ right to life,’ replied Colin.

‘The Dragons are with us,’ said the Princess. ‘You are to leave them both alone.’

‘There are two?’

‘Helloooo,’ said Feldspar, giving him a cheery wave from the other side of the room.

‘A double slaying,’ said Grifflon excitedly, ‘an honour I shall inscribe upon my coat of arms.’

‘No one’s going to be killing any Dragons,’ said the Princess. ‘It is my order.’

‘I’m a knight,’ he said simply, ‘killing Dragons is what I do.’

‘And burning idiots like you to powdered charcoal,’ said Colin, ‘is what we do.’

‘Hmm,’ said Sir Matt, and tried to put his broken sword back in the scabbard. It wouldn’t go, not having a blade, so he passed the hilt to one of his squires, walked up to where we were sitting and made a deep bow and a flourish of high chivalry towards Princess Shazine, who stared back at him suspiciously.

‘My queen,’ he said. ‘By an act of my selfless generosity your Dragons are now spared. I pledge my loyalty to my ruler, and offer myself as personal bodyguard, willing to die to protect the most inestimable jewel in these islands. Beautiful as you were when a princess, you are twice as lovely now, your external plainness, lank hair, mildly gawky appearance and unfortunate dentition confirmation that the soul of a ruler resides within. And,’ he added, really pushing the boat out when it came to flattery, ‘I think that beauty, good bone structure and a willowy physique are merely embellishments that have no bearing on inner character, and that far greater treasures lie beneath the surface. You and I were made for one another, and I think, given the dire circumstances, that we should be married straight away.’

‘Oh,’ said the Princess, ‘isn’t that a bit quick? I mean, you haven’t even taken me out to dinner yet.’

‘Or a movie,’ said Colin.

‘Yes indeed, a movie, thank you, good point,’ said the Princess.

‘They’re re-running all the Back to the Future movies at the Savoy Cinema,’ said Feldspar, who was looking at a copy of What’s on in Penzance. ‘That should be fun.’

‘I’ve just had a thought,’ said Colin. ‘Was there a DeLorean Time Machine down the mineshaft throughout the first Back to the Future?’

‘Nope,’ said Tiger, ‘it only came into being when Doc got struck by lightning at the end of Part Two.’21

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Look.’

And he started to draw the timelines on a sheet of paper to explain.

Sir Matt Grifflon stared daggers at them briefly, then dramatically knelt before the Princess, took her hands in his, and stared at her earnestly.

‘In most circumstances, yes,’ he said, ‘I would be taking you to dinner and the movies and then we’d be running towards one another in slow motion on a beach, but by utilising Subsection 12, Paragraph 9, Rule 11F, “Males to become king if they marry female heirs to the throne”, I can bring, as King of the United Kingdoms, my considerable expertise and rugged manly leadership qualities to the issue of the Trolls – and you can fall back into the role of supportive wife, and think about shopping and crochet and kittens and which private school the nation’s royal heirs should attend. Say yes, and we can perform the nuptials now – I’ve even brought a bishop with me.’

He pointed towards where a bishop was indeed part of his entourage, although he looked a little more like a shabby curate as his clothes were cheap and poorly laundered, and his hat was too big and nearly covered his eyes.

‘I think I’ve seen it all now,’ I muttered.

Sir Matt flashed me an angry look, but, to his credit, at least he recognised me.

‘Oh, look,’ he said dismissively. ‘Dragon girl. Well, I’ll give you a free pass this time, kiddo, but here’s a spot of advice: ordinary people are never to address knights without first being addressed. It’s in the Manual of Chivalry foreword and not hard to miss—’

‘I’m a knight too,’ I said, suddenly realising this could be useful, ‘so can say what I like to you when I wish to do so.’

‘Nonsense,’ he scoffed, ‘girls can’t be knights. I mean, really – we’ll be making spotty orphans into earls next.’

And he laughed for a bit until he stopped because the Princess wasn’t.

‘They can be knights if I say they can,’ said the Princess in a stony voice. ‘Isn’t that right, Tiger, Earl of Prawns?’

‘Me?’ said Tiger, looking up from his convoluted diagram of Back to the Future timelines and seemingly taken aback by his new-found status. ‘I mean, yes, your Majesty.’

‘Did I say they couldn’t?’ said Sir Matt, changing his mind instantly. ‘I meant to say they could and should be made into dukes if that’s what the reigning monarch decides.’ He turned to me. ‘Sir Jennifer, I am truly sorry about all that silly attempted murder business. I think I was having a bad day, and it was only attempted, after all – not like the real thing, eh?’

‘That you did not succeed is no credit to you,’ I said.

‘Well, look,’ he said, trying to sound all conciliatory, ‘we could play the blame game over the whole “tried to kill you issue” but I’ve moved on. Anyway, there are more important things right now, such as me and the Princess getting married – now if—’

‘This isn’t it either,’ said Kevin Zip, who also didn’t worry about interrupting knights. ‘Grifflon isn’t the Something that’s Going to Happen. It’s way bigger than him.’

‘Exactly,’ said Sir Matt, ‘way bigger: the wedding.’ He patted his pockets, eager to hurry this all along so he could become Supreme Ruler of all the Kingdoms. ‘I’ve got a ring somewhere.’

‘I don’t think a wedding is the Something that’s Going to Happen,’ said Kevin.

‘What would you know?’ said Sir Matt. ‘Now, shall we perform the ceremony here or in the local cathedral?’

‘Not so fast,’ said the Princess, finally getting her say. ‘What sort of a queen would I be if I did not show due diligence over my choice of consort? Would my subjects respect a queen who said yes to the first knight who asked, irrespective of lantern jaw, flowing blond mane and impressively successful recording career? No, my people would expect more of me. You are to prove yourself worthy of my hand in marriage, so I will set you a task.’

Sir Matt Grifflon bowed low. Tasks for hands-in-marriage were fairly routine in the Kingdoms – it was even a long-running reality TV show.

‘I have already pledged not to kill those horribly disrespectful Dragons over there so it can’t be that,’ he said, ‘but yes, I accept the challenge, whatever it is.’

It sounded as though he were suspecting something quite easy, which it usually was. Tasks were generally of a difficulty tailored to the average prince’s IQ: find your own head with your eyes shut, identify a zebra in a line-up of elephants, spell your name, state your favourite fruit, that sort of thing.

‘You are to find the tallest building in Penzance,’ said the Princess.

‘No problem, can do,’ said Sir Matt, getting up from where he had been on bended knee. ‘I shall do that in a jiffy and be back to claim your hand.’

‘There’s more. Once you’ve found it, you shall leap off singing “God save the Queen!” at the top of your voice.’

‘Could I jump off a lower part of the tallest building?’ he asked. ‘I’m thinking a ground-floor window.’

‘No,’ said the Princess, ‘because otherwise you’d not have enough time to sing: “God save the Queen!” on the way down.’

‘I could sing it very fast,’ said Sir Matt.

‘No, I want it clear and unhurried,’ said the Princess. ‘How far would Sir Matt need to fall to achieve that? Anyone?’

‘Sixty-four feet,’ said Tiger. ‘You’ll be travelling at about forty-three miles per hour when you hit the ground.’

‘That will sting a bit,’ said the Princess. ‘Well, toddle off, then. Let us know when you’ll be jumping so we can come and watch.’

Sir Matt Grifflon muttered something, then left the room. There was a pause and then Tiger started giggling, followed closely by Colin.

‘Do you think he’ll actually do it?’ said the Princess to me.

‘He’ll find any excuse not to. Besides—’

I didn’t get to finish as a pillar of fire opened up in the middle of room, accompanied by a clap of thunder. It was not hot, just dramatic, and in an instant the fire was replaced by two people.

I’d met them both before. One was Miss D’Argento, a woman only a few years older than myself. She was Shandar’s agent, had short bobbed dark hair, was dressed elegantly and carried a clipboard. The other person was tall, good looking and wore a dark suit with mauve pinstripes – which went, oddly, horizontally instead of vertically. He had a youthful bounce to his stride, carried a long cane and had bright green eyes.

It was the Mighty Shandar.

‘This is it!’ said Kevin Zip, suddenly becoming all animated and excited. ‘This is the Something that was about to Happen!’