Tuesday, 19 April 2011
The Cat's Consolation for Caedmeron
You'll never guess who I bumped into today. I'll give you a clue: he's clueless - and wily at the same time. No - (I know what you're thinking) - it's not my mate Feaxede; I see him quite often, so it's not such a significant occasion to meet him. I bumped into Caedmeron - the Dear Leader of the reviled Tree/Lib Alliance administration here in the lovely Kingdom of Northumbria.
Let me explain. I was doing my rounds, checking out my territory in customary feline fashion, when I saw a solitary figure sitting on a log on the edge of a local wood. As I got nearer to the figure, I immediately knew who it was - and he was a picture of pure dejection. I approached him cautiously, and my intrusion on his solitude seemed to bring a glimmer of relief to his careworn features. "Hello, Kitty," he said. "It's nice to see you." I returned the compliment - although I'll admit there wasn't a great deal of sincerity in my reply. Having done the usual kitty thing of purring, rolling around and miaowing, I sat down beside him and asked him what he was so worried about (as if I didn't know).
He explained that he hadn't received an invitation to the Great Wedding - the principal event of the year. Surely his position as Premier should be recognised. I didn't comment, because I already knew this from Feaxede's recent discovery. I suggested that perhaps the invitation was sent, but somehow failed to be delivered by the messenger service. He said he's already made enquiries about that with the Palace, and no invitation had been sent. His eyes started to fill with tears. He blew his nose to a loud rasping tone in the key of C minor.
Listen. What I am about to tell you is in complete confidence. Please do NOT divulge this to a living soul - or else you will suffer from the most appalling bites, scratches and fur-balls for the rest of your life. (And I'll give my colon a thorough purging in your carrot patch. Every. Day.)
I told him I would remedy the situation for him. I would discreetly go to the soothsayer Dellimell and tell her everything. Now, I know for a fact that Dellimell is very much on Caedmeron's side - in fact, she worships the very ground he stands on. I also know for sure that she's very prone to very public hysterics and histrionics. If she kicks up a stink, the other soothsayers will mindlessly join in the chorus, and before long the Anglo-Saxon public will become restless and will start to revolt, since Dellimell reflects a lot of grass-roots opinion. The last thing the old goat King Alhfrith needs at the moment is a riot in the streets - least of all, coinciding with the occasion of a Big Royal Wedding...
And that's what I did. Caedmeron was very grateful - and he offered me a weekend break at his official residence. I didn't tell him that Láréow is a pal of mine. Or that he's my own undercover eyes and ears in the Temple Of Human Foolishness.
Now, I know what you're thinking. You're wondering why I've helped Caedmeron, aren't you? In view of my aversion and antipathy towards politicos of all shapes and sizes, I owe no one any allegiance - and I give none. A cat can out-stare a king and get away with it.
But why on earth should that psychopathic, churlish grunt Guthmund the Brown get an invite - the very man who cheerfully brought the Kingdom to bankruptcy and ruin - while the one who tries to clear up the mess is uninvited? It just doesn't sound fair or reasonable to me. If I got my way, neither of them would attend. They should go and practise their playacting elsewhere.
So if you see Caedmeron at the Wedding, you'll know exactly why he's there - and who made it happen.
Just keep it to yourselves. Promise...?