Revolution in Flopdoodle

Revolution in Flopdoodle

By Peter Calvert

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Peter Calvert

Published by Owlwood Books

The moral right of the author has been asserted

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For Bill Clements

REVOLUTION IN FLOPDOODLE

Chapter One

It was a fine spring morning in Flopdoodle. Nearly four years had passed since the great war with the neighbouring state of Gugglia had disturbed the peace of His Majesty's reign, now in its seventh year. The great Revolution in Gugglia, which had ended the war, was long since over; and for His Majesty himself things had been entirely pleasant ever since his would-be assassin, Dartrolioski, had been liquidated -- or, more accurately, evaporated. In a grand Royal Wedding, in Flopford Cathedral, His Majesty had recently been married to a Princess from the neighbouring state of Amnesia who shared his liking for small furry animals.

This was as well, since His Majesty, since the destruction of the Royal Fishpond, had taken up the keeping of rabbits. Hutches had appeared in lengthening rows along the wall of the kitchen garden, much to the annoyance of the Head Gardener, as they completely covered his prize asparagus bed, and of Her Majesty, as horseradish sauce and rhubarb had both vanished from the Palace menus. For these rabbit pie every day was not a very palatable substitute.

Quangle, the King's friend, helper, Chief Adviser, etc., had also been far from idle. Two new taps had been fitted to His Majesty's bath, one for hot cocoa and one for hot tea; while in the hammered gold loofah-stand stood a combined cup-and-soap dish and sugar/bathsalts jar. Neither got used very much -- for obvious reasons. A new ship, to be called HFMS Horrible, had been laid down and was to be launched by Her Majesty, but as there was a wood shortage it was not yet finished. And. a complete new set of stamps had been issued to commemorate the three hundredth anniversary of the invention of bed socks.

This chronicle of the most momentous and even memorable year in the whole of the long and glorious history of this ancient (even antique) realm begins on a sunny morning in early March, when His Majesty, full of interest in a new breed of rabbit he had invented, with long tail, no ears to speak of, and remarkably little rabbit in between, was walking across the spacious, well rolled lawn, dewy and glistening, on his way to the rabbit hutches. He was accompanied by a rather careworn Quangle, who at that hour of the morning would much rather have been sound asleep in bed.

Come on, Quangle said His Majesty encouragingly. It’s a lovely morning - just the weather to be happy. But you don't look very happy. Is anything the matter?

Quangle thought for a moment. Well no, perhaps not, he replied. That is, it looks as if there is going to be a revolt.

Quangle then helped His Majesty, who had put his foot in a rabbit hole by mistake, to his Royal Feet, and dusted him.

I beg your pardon? gasped His Majesty.

It looks as if there is going to be a revolt, Quangle repeated clearly and distinctly.

Where? Why? Who? asked His Majesty sharply.

Eastern Flopdoodle; they don't like you; they are just revolting ....

Yes, yes, yes, said His Majesty impatiently, What is the Army doing?

Farming, mostly, replied Quangle, though some of them have joined. the conspiracy.

Good gracious! What do we do now?

I must say I don't quite know, explained Quangle, scratching his head, There are about four hundred of them and we should have several thousand, but it will take several days to get them all mobilized.

It's not very many, is it? said His Majesty, looking somewhat anxious, Still, I don't suppose the rebels will be armed."

Not properly armed, corrected Quangle. But even a pitchfork can be rather uncomfortable. On the other hand, we have just finished arming the Kitchen Cavalry with new toasting forks and. shields will soon be standard issue.

That's something anyway, agreed His Majesty, Now, what about public opinion. Are the key people still on my side? That’s the most important thing.

Well, yes and no, said Quangle. That is, most of them are, but there is a very strong group, led by the Earl of Fizzling Towers, which includes the Dowager Grand-Duchess of Upper Gargling, the Earl of Argleham and Baron Balderdash, who are supporting a claim to the throne of the Duke of Delphinium. After all he is only twelve, and they are his relations.

I know it, said His Majesty sadly, I always loathed Great-Aunt Agatha. She will insist on trying to run everything. Still, the Earl of Fizzling Towers is a much more serious proposition. He commands much more support since he became the Lord Great Chamberlain of the Realm.

What do you intend to do, then? Quangle asked.

Bring the Earl up to Flopford and make him explain himself. If necessary I’ll sack him.

But that means a Council of Peers, doesn't it?

I’m afraid so, sighed His Majesty, as he turned back towards the Palace. "What the Queen will have to say about all this I really don't know.' He shivered and clasped his robe more tightly around him, as the sun had gone in, and an icy wind was blowing in off the sea.

**********

Fizzling Towers was an eligible detached residence, complete with three and a half towers, ample quantities of battlements, six foot thick walls coated with pure running water, uneven stone stairs and floors which sloped unexpectedly, an armoury, more than twenty large halls and more than a hundred echoing rooms with old-fashioned brick fireplaces, oak panelling, canopied beds, secret passages, a Haunted Room, very few modem conveniences and an hour's walk from the railway station. On this particular day in late March, as the night closed in, there was a vast log fire burning in the drawing room grate and the Earl himself was sitting in front of it, muttering.

'Tchah! Pah! he grumbled, Oh yes - and BAH.

It will be gathered that the Earl was in a bad temper. As well he might, for only an hour before a herald had appeared in the front drive, and after riding round the castle twice, had proclaimed.

WHEREAS there is a disgraceful and, mischievous spread of disloyalty and revolt amongst subjects of all degrees and positions of His Most Royal Majesty the King, among whom many of the nobility are deemed. to be involved, now' be it known by these presents that His Highness the Earl of Fizzling Towers is commanded upon his allegiance to attend at. a Council of Peers to be held at our Palace and Court of St. Wargle at Flopford on the Twenty-Sixth of this month of March, and WHEREAS in times past by the feet of divers persons the Palace Cat has been cruelly maltreated as it hath lain sleeping upon the carpets and mats of the Palace aforesaid the heretofore mentioned noble Earl is requested to observe due care. LONG L!VE THE KING!

Grah! choked the Earl loudly, gnashing his teeth - which fell out and tumbled to the floor. There followed loud toothless mutterings as he got up to get a candle with which to find them. (Fizzling Towers had. of course, no electric light). The candle then fell out of the candlestick, spilling candle grease all over a seventeenth-century tapestry chair. More toothless mumblings. After a few minutes he located the teeth and replaced them hastily.

Grrumph! said the Earl, as he replaced the candle in the candelabrum over his head. Tchah! he remarked again. Hunh! he snorted. I won’t go! he spluttered. Still, perhaps I’d better go, he grunted thoughtfully. I’ll tell them what I think of them! He tugged hard on the ancient bellrope. It broke. Incoherent splutters of rage came from the Earl’s lips, and he pulled off his coronet and jumped on it.

**********

The day had come. The Council of Peers was meeting with all the ceremony and pageantry of twenty centuries of Flopdudlian history -- well, three or four, really. Six trumpeters stood on either side of the marble entrance of the Council Chamber, through which the Cardinal-Archbishop of Flopford in vermilion splendour, wafted by the breeze of twelve ostrich-feather fans, was sweeping to take his place on a small throne beside the dais. Already on both sides of the pillared hall the benches shimmered in the seven colours of the rainbow and the peers of the realm awaited the entrance of Royalty.

\We should have these more often, whispered Quangle before entering. It's quite a gathering!

Nonsense! said His Majesty, glancing at his watch, Why can't Her Majesty ever arrive on time? he asked irritably, ignoring the fact that he himself had been slightly late. As he spoke there was a rustling noise from the top of the marble staircase and Her Majesty appeared, radiant in cloth of gold. Everyone said ah! Quangle turned to the door and entered. Prince Quangle, lord of Dishwater, proclaimed the Herald,. The fanfare sounded loudly in his ears, so loudly that one of the trumpets cracked. from end. to end, emitting a startled YARP! His Majesty winced, and three strong men immediately removed the trumpeter to a commodious dungeon.

Make sure we get a new trumpet before the visit of the President of Monomania remembered His Majesty, Are you ready, m'dear?

The orchestra in the hall struck up the National Anthem and all the peers rose to bow deeply as the royal pair took their places on the dais. Once seated on the Throne, His Majesty signed to the Herald, who read rapidly in a low monotone:

By Order of the King. Know ye and all whom it may concern that it is our royal will and pleasure that this Council of Peers be called this day to decide whether or not His Highness, Stephen, Earl of Fizzling Towers, is guilty of High Treason, in that he did in the County of Bugshire at various dates in the past month incite rebellion against his rightful lord the King, and to show just cause why he should not be deprived of' his honours and banished. Long live the King!

For a few moments after he had finished there was absolute silence.

I protest I object I disagree! burbled the Earl