J. by David Brining
as she tries to join in the Barmpot's Song-
Send round the punchbowl, steaming hot,
With a hey nonny nonny and a derry down down
When the snow's outside I'd rather be not
Ho well done and a jolly jack crown
"Did you know?" Jacaranda begins, "That John Wisden, who first published the famous Almanack from his cigar and cricket ball factory in 1864, took 6 wickets in 6 balls for Kent against The South in 1852?"
"Hush," Jerboa says softly. "Finish the song."
Pray to Saint Jude for all good speed
With a hey nonny nonny and a derry down down
That your wherry is saved from mischief and reed
Ho well done and a jolly jack crown.
As the last notes hang in the still night air, the crowd pauses in its circling of the Juggernaut cart to applaud the efforts of Jenkin's Ear. All around the field, people are hugging, people are holding. Jerboa clasps Jacaranda to his chest. "Here's to the 25th," he said. "Vincit Jason."
''Vincit Jason,'' everyone answers. ''Vincit Jason.''
As the candles are extinguished, Veda decides to go home. She has found some answers, although not Iestyn Thomas. Besides, she has been incommunicado now for three days. Anthea will be worried, and so, she hopes, will the Editor. Perhaps, too, Julep Jejune is waiting for a call. The movement called JASOn had been identified. The only missing element is the identity of the rightful king, and that seems such a closely guarded secret…
''Just going for a stroll,'' she tells Jerboa. ''Won't be long.''
Veda left the circle and moved casually towards the car park, smiling as she passed push-chairs, carry-cots, parents wiping the faces of stray, weary kids, a harassed mum and a fractious toddler squalling because he had dropped his dummy in the dirt.
It had been an adventure. Of sorts. She supposed.
Sighing, she leaned against a juniper tree and looked back at the dull, ruddy glow of the bonfire and a dozen smaller campfires, the colour somehow comforting under the deep violet-black of the vast night sky.
Pssssst
Jargo Jaconet stood by the gate. As her eyes met his, the boy beckoned her with a gesture of urgency. He seemed jumpily nervous.
''Jargo? What's wrong?''
He was licking dry, chapped lips, agitated, glancing around.
''Veda!''
Her name, called so loudly it resembled an explosion. Jarrah Jambres and Jemadar Jannock (where had he come from?) were racing across the grass, waving their arms. She turned back to Jargo. Two dark figures loomed out of the shadows and suddenly
suddenly
suddenly, a blanket was thrown over her head.
Veda shrieked as her vision was muffled. Musty old wool drawn into her mouth. A shout from somewhere. She felt herself shoved at and pushed and then she was falling
tumbling
stumbling
caught in Time
then
a sharp pain on the side of her head,
a burst of light, then everything went
Send round the punchbowl, steaming hot,
With a hey nonny nonny and a derry down down
When the snow's outside I'd rather be not
Ho well done and a jolly jack crown
"Did you know?" Jacaranda begins, "That John Wisden, who first published the famous Almanack from his cigar and cricket ball factory in 1864, took 6 wickets in 6 balls for Kent against The South in 1852?"
"Hush," Jerboa says softly. "Finish the song."
Pray to Saint Jude for all good speed
With a hey nonny nonny and a derry down down
That your wherry is saved from mischief and reed
Ho well done and a jolly jack crown.
As the last notes hang in the still night air, the crowd pauses in its circling of the Juggernaut cart to applaud the efforts of Jenkin's Ear. All around the field, people are hugging, people are holding. Jerboa clasps Jacaranda to his chest. "Here's to the 25th," he said. "Vincit Jason."
''Vincit Jason,'' everyone answers. ''Vincit Jason.''
As the candles are extinguished, Veda decides to go home. She has found some answers, although not Iestyn Thomas. Besides, she has been incommunicado now for three days. Anthea will be worried, and so, she hopes, will the Editor. Perhaps, too, Julep Jejune is waiting for a call. The movement called JASOn had been identified. The only missing element is the identity of the rightful king, and that seems such a closely guarded secret…
''Just going for a stroll,'' she tells Jerboa. ''Won't be long.''
Veda left the circle and moved casually towards the car park, smiling as she passed push-chairs, carry-cots, parents wiping the faces of stray, weary kids, a harassed mum and a fractious toddler squalling because he had dropped his dummy in the dirt.
It had been an adventure. Of sorts. She supposed.
Sighing, she leaned against a juniper tree and looked back at the dull, ruddy glow of the bonfire and a dozen smaller campfires, the colour somehow comforting under the deep violet-black of the vast night sky.
Pssssst
Jargo Jaconet stood by the gate. As her eyes met his, the boy beckoned her with a gesture of urgency. He seemed jumpily nervous.
''Jargo? What's wrong?''
He was licking dry, chapped lips, agitated, glancing around.
''Veda!''
Her name, called so loudly it resembled an explosion. Jarrah Jambres and Jemadar Jannock (where had he come from?) were racing across the grass, waving their arms. She turned back to Jargo. Two dark figures loomed out of the shadows and suddenly
suddenly
suddenly, a blanket was thrown over her head.
Veda shrieked as her vision was muffled. Musty old wool drawn into her mouth. A shout from somewhere. She felt herself shoved at and pushed and then she was falling
tumbling
stumbling
caught in Time
then
a sharp pain on the side of her head,
a burst of light, then everything went