THE CHAPLAIN IS A B*****D AND ELUSIVE

        This is your invitation for
                                THE PILGRIMAGE TO CASTALIA

The landlady gave me this,” Kaiser said, scrutinising the note, “she told me a girl left it on promise of return.”
“Me, I left it, dragon-lady she was, couldn't muster up the courage to come back.”
“Don't worry, it added to the mystery, I had Bandanna by the balls, you should of seen his face, he tried to make out he didn't give a flying...but you can't kid a kidder.”
“Green Eye the monster, was he?”
“Blazing emerald more like, when we were having a scoff up in his room it was tearing him apart, in the end he couldn't help himself...'what was in your note?'...that's what he said. I laughed in his face.”
“Did you show him?”
“Not a chance, I pretended to go for a piss but waited just outside the door intending to burst back in but as I watched through the crack I knew I couldn't do it, he had moved with the swiftness of a cat, his trembling hands sought out the note from my coat, he seemed a man in a state of shock as it quivered in his palm like something come alive.”
“That's poetic that is, sensitive is he, your friend?”
“Not so you'd notice. You don't understand the power of a handwritten note in the world of the single man boarding house, and when it's written on a pink piece of paper...well.”
“You're cruel you are.”
“He'd have done the same. So what's this message?”
“Ride with me,” she said, wheeling out a scooter from behind the bench.
“Why not,” he said, jumping on and they trundled off into the night.
When he looked back he saw the last lights of civilization blinking out. The scooter bounced on a road more rocky. A tighter grip seemed wise. Then the mouldy smell. F**k, not the countryside. Again. Visions of midsummer merriment - goblin-like creatures dancing to the beat of a drum fashioned from a black-stallion's scrotum - swirled in his head.
“You okay back there?” asked Iris, grabbing at his leg, too late as Kaiser took a tumble.
She spun the bike round using the beam of the headlamp to spot the forlorn figure crawling, spitting out mud.
“Kaiser, how did you manage that?”
“Must have passed out, fell asleep, don't know, it's this b*****d countryside.”
Straining to see, she was only a jerky shadow behind the light, taking a good guess she was shuddering with silent laughter he stuck his face back into the dirt and started snorting like a pig. Changing the hilarity to a mode more vocal.
“Eeee yer a lad, best give up, no truffles down there.”
“No truffles,” he yelled, jumping up, getting back on, “forward then, throttle up the Putt Putt.”
“ Putt putt? Too much for you she was.”
“That she was, sweet Iris, that she was,” Kaiser said, his words trailing off through the trees.
No thatch but the cottage in the woods did not lack the rustic quality of fairy-tales, it looked to Kaiser as if the creepers were trying to throttle it and the mottled oak door opened with a creak.
“Who's in here, the big bad wolf?”
“No, he's gone, tasted awful he did.”
“I'm sure, you didn't happen to wash him down with anything, erm..”
“Eeee yer a lad, don't worry plenty of wine in here, make it I do,” Iris said, delving into the scullery, returning fully armed, “lots of it.”
Kaiser plucked a bottle from the selection, wedged himself into a seat that swung from a beam, squeaked the cork out with his teeth, spat, and took a long and noisy slurp.
“Lord of the estate you are.”
“What an amazing seat,” said the said Lord, spinning slowly round, surveying the tenant's abode; the light from the wood stove illuminating a work bench and an array of violins at various stages of construction. “Now isn't this a wee trove, hah, a cottage industry. Do the woodland creatures help, you know, when you're sleeping?”
“Lazy they are, no help at all,” said Iris, thumping down on a horsehair couch, squeaking a cork out of her own. “But I've got a magic flute.”
“I don't doubt it.”
“Well, more of a recorder it is.” she said, pulling out a hand-carved instrument from under the couch. She played a few notes. Kaiser felt his penis pulse.
“See,” she said, “magic it is.”
“I do see, any lengthy fugues in your repertoire?”
“Eeee yer a lad, you might get lucky, get creative at the witching hour I do.”
“And productive by the look. That's a fair old selection of violins you got there, where do you get the maple?” Kaiser said tapping the body of an instrument.
“Maple? Knowledgeable you are.”
“Oh you'd be surprised. I lodge with a know- it-all and the radiogram has a bad habit of blowing its valves on the long winter nights.”
“Your friend in the asylum. Don't worry, we'll get them out.”
“Them?”
“Aunt Martha too, both prisoners they are. The maple comes from that wood out there, all my materials do, special that forest, watched over it is, by The Guardian. Help us he's going to, break them out I mean...there's his horn now, he wants you to go to him.”
Kaiser finished off his wine, sprang to his feet, wiped his slobbery mouth and made for the door.
“Man of action you are,” said Iris, picking up her flute and fan-faring his departure by executing a trill.
Kaiser wondered; who this Guardian might be, if he had drunk enough to steel himself against the countryside, and how his c**k had learned the cha cha.
Outside he whistled into the forest and before it tailed off a torch sparked up into a crackling flame that drew a circle as it whirled around in the air at speed.
“The beacon has been lit,”muttered Kaiser, crashing through the undergrowth, cursing all things jagged.
“Hark! What manner o beastie is this that cometh? A wild boar, foul of mouth and temper,” boomed a voice from behind the fiery hoop.
“I seek The Guardian,” said Kaiser.
“Haaargh, you 'seek The Guardian', forfucksake man d'y'ken how f****n daft that sounds?”
“Well, I didn't, what was I supposed to have said, oh screw it to hell anyway, I'm drunk.”
“Ye've been quaffin Iris' home-made, it does that tae folk, even the likes oh you Kaiser.” The circle came to a stop at it's apex, putting a face to the flame. “Hope ye've no been tryin tae screw her. Mah soul sister.”
“No, no, erm, enjoying some hospitality was all, I never...”
“Haha ah ken, ah ken, ah'm Hector by the way,” he said, thumping Kaiser on the shoulder, “forget aw that Guardian shite, that's Iris speak, witchy stuff, she gets it fae thon mad auntie oh hers.”
“Martha.”
“Aye, d'ye ken her?
“No, but she's locked up with Bandanna is she not? Iris said...”
Hector grabbed Kaiser's lapels. “Aye, that's right, ah ken all about it, dinny worry we'll get them oot oh there nae bother but there's a wee pressing matter that needs attendin tae first, a certain Chaplain whose stride needs tae be shortened.”
“You know the Chaplain?”
“He's crossed my path.”
Hector straightened out his arm, the torch shone out on a rough route of sorts, Kaiser lurched forward with the tug and followed on into the wood. More leaves and branches and those trunks and the mud, always the mud and mulch, that mouldy stench that's so...wonderful. That's what it is, full of wonder, and charm, and mystery, why get so worked up, this place is elating, this is not drunkenness, this is enchantment. And The Guardian what a magnificent specimen, the way his bulky form moves with ease through his domain, he is at one with this place and it in turn envelopes and grasps at him almost in reverence - a single entity, flora, embracing its protector.
“That must have been the Elderflower ye were pourin doon yer neck back there Kaiser - ye're mutterin and mumblin like a loony.”
“Ahhhhwoooo,” Kaiser howled into the night.
“Special Vintage,” said Hector, laughing, “Werewolf's Tipple.”
Soon Kaiser saw the flame rise up and felt his feet leave the ground, hauled up onto some kind of platform. More torches were lit and various shapes that constituted a hideout in the trees were revealed.
“Take a seat, the table is round, the stools are strong, sturdy and hard, wooden, like everything else. You've had the flower, now here's the berry,” and he sloshed out wine from a flagon into a couple of crude cups. They both took eager slurps. “Now then Kaiser mah man, ah want ye tae tell me the Chaplain's circumstance, where's he at, what's his defences, how many men has he got?”
“He's holed up in a soup kitchen's basement, he's got a congregation of what looked like tramps to me; old b******s, drunks, w****s and the like but he has a band of cohorts, well dodgy cut-throat types, but they're mercenaries when I came across them they were moaning, calling him a tight c**t.”
“He is, ye'll no get much tighter, said Hector, stroking his chin. “This basement place, you ken how tae get there, the layoot?”
“Sort of, I've been there but I wasn't at my best...'berry', you say, delightful, can I have some mo...that goat looks a bit distressed Hector, it's jammed in, the cage is too small.”
“That's no goat. That's Luggy.”
Kaiser screwed his eyes, didn't quite get it, he got up, moved closer, no mistake, there in the cage was a man. A broken man.
“Are you okay?”
“He canny answer ye. His tongues too swollen in his heed.. That's three days now and nae water.”
“Is that not a bit drastic.”
“Drastic? Don't ever say that tae me again Kaiser.”
Kaiser squatted down, introducing himself, the man, Luggy, didn’t notice him, he just carried on staring at something that wasn't there.
“Look what the b*****d had in his hat, d'y'ken what that is?”
“Looks like a squirrel’s tail.”
“Aye, but what colour is it?”
“All squirrels are grey in the dark.”
“It's f****n red Kaiser, red, d'ye'ken how many oh them are left in this wood? And this f****n joker wastes one tae decorate his hat.” He slammed his fist into the cage but failed to rattle Luggy.
“He's past caring,” said Kaiser.
“Is he now, we'll see.” Hector fed the tail through the bound mesh and began tickling Luggy's face. Nothing. “Yer right Kaiser,” he yelled, pulling out the peg, swinging the door open, grabbing Luggy and throwing him out onto his back. “He's had enough, time for a wee bit rehydration.” He disappeared and came back with a pail of water and a funnel which he jammed into Luggy's mouth.
“Isn't the method, erm, small sips.”
“Ah've got mah ane method,” yelled Hector pouring a great sloosh into the funnel. “Flooding!”
“Is that not a bit dras...beyond the pale.”
“It's what's in the pail, that's aw he's needin. Sit on his chest Kaiser, he's strugglin like a b*****d.”
The funnel came shooting out Luggy's mouth in a great coughing spate of water and he convulsed so violently he landed on his feet. He coughed a bit more, staggered 'round a bit, then took a seat at the table. As did Kaiser, and Hector.
“See,” said Hector, “right as rain.”
Luggy elevated out an ape arm towards the goblets, “where's mine?”
“Y'can have one Luggy but that's all, ah'm still mad at ye.”
“Man, I've already told you,” said Luggy, spilling the wine down his throat in one, “it was dead meat already.”
“That's yer story, even if it's true,” Hector started brushing the tail into his face once more, “it's a bad example. No be long every one oh yer tribe'll be wantin one.”
“Man, three days in the cage for a dead squirrel's tail. Three days."
“Waznae that when ah waz in thon dug oots. Drugged me up they did, then banged me up. There ah waz hallucinating mah tits aff and careerin roond in a maze oh tunnels like a googly-eyed mole.”
“Want to know what happened Kaiser?”
“You know my name?”
“Man, everyone knows your name. Midsummer's it was. We told 'im, Mr Gormless Guardian here, 'be careful with the soup, it's exotic,' but does 'e listen, nah, 'es giving it the old gobble, gobble. There were mushrooms in 'is thatch. Next minute up 'e goes, upwise, treewise, giving it the chant, chant of the demented. Then 'e gets the fear, comes down running round the fire like a fucked up feral f****r. Then 'e spies the entrance and down 'e goes, muttering s**t to 'imself like the white f*****g rabbit. All 'e needed was a watch an' waistcoat.”
Luggy stretched out his ape arm again. Hector filled his cup. Kaiser detected bashfulness and truth. He laughed. They all did - the wine-fuelled mirth bursting through the forest as the three of them shared a moment.
It didn't seem odd to Kaiser, the relaxed feeling, as if the camaraderie he felt with the two men of the wood was somehow natural. One a wild man with full thatch and beard dressed in combats, the other a strange looking guy with a patch of his hair shaved above his huge ears, straggles of plaits hanging long down his back and his gibbon-like arms wrapped in jet-black tattoos that exaggerated the sinews, he looked as if he could swing through the trees for fun. He wondered how Hector had managed to imprison him.
'Bear-pit,' said Luggy, reading his mind.
'Aye,' said Hector, pointing to a blowpipe, 'and poison dart. But that'll no be the weapon oh choice for tonight's foray Kaiser, we'll need somethin a wee bit more urban.' He got up and returned with a crossbow. 'Ittle no be shortage oh payment ye'll hear these Chaplain Cohorts moaning about this time Kaiser; that tends tae pale when ye've got a barbed crossbow bolt tearing intae the flesh oh yer arse.”
“The Chaplain? Tell 'im I was askin after 'im.”
“Aye ah'll dae that. It's just that he might hae a wee bitty difficulty hearin through six feet oh dirt.”
“Not like you to hold a grudge Hector.”
“What?”
“I'm joking, yer like an elephant man, Anyway I must be off.”
“Right, penance; ah'll be havin six grey squirrel tails, right here, on this table, a week. Oh and Luggy see when the bulldozers come back…the tribe, up they trees, chains, padlocks, the lot, and more tunnels, deeper, darker. Got it?”
Luggy got up, grunted and nodded, raised a farewell hand to Kaiser who had a vision of him swinging upwards towards the darkness of the canopy on some sort of creeper, and when it happened, he only blinked twice.
“We'll need to get goin an naw Kaiser,” said Hector filling a bladder from the flagon, “best be prepared, concrete gies me the jitters.” He hoisted the bladder up and aimed the jet into his gape. “Righty oh, let's go,” he yelled, grabbing Kaiser and jumping off.
Kaiser found it amazing, following on behind, that Hector could move so quickly through the pitch-black woodland, he was like a night-sighted predator. But when they approached the urban outskirts Hector slowed down, almost to a stagger, as if he found the neon blinding. This new state of confusion obviously called for voluminous slurps from the vino-bag.
“Where the f**k are we, what a shite-hole, dae folk actually live here.”
“It's a council estate, I'll lead from here, best keep up the pace,” said Kaiser, looking up at the faces at the windows.
“Ah'd die in a place like this.”
“If we don't keep moving, we both will.”
They hurried on and soon Kaiser found the terrain more familiar and on the street up ahead he recognised a gang of noisy drunks, in all their roaring glory. A game of raucous leap frog seemed to be in progress; falling, cursing and laughing. A game of hilarity until, sensing interlopers, they halted, fell silent, one by one.
“Only me,” yelled Kaiser.
“F**k me, Kaiser you c**t, what the f**k are you doing sneaking 'round, and who's the wookie?”
“Allow me to introduce Philthy Phil's finest,” said Kaiser turning to said wookie, “Jeremiah, Baldy, Scholar and Bing, guys this is...”
“ Hector,” interrupted Bing, “the serial killer.”
“You! Ah had tae get outa toon cause oh you.”
“Has tae be said y'dinny look much like yer photofit, tryin a disguise -  a f****n ugly, hairy, apeman b*****d. How any c**t could say ah'm yer double is a f****n mystery tae me,” said Bing fingering his own immaculate Turk cut. 

Kaiser looked at them; disparate, true, at first glance…but if Hector had a haircut and shave, put on a suit.
“So you guys know each other?” he said.
“Nope, never met, let me tell ye a wee story,” said Bing, “a while back there wiz this psycho goin round killin tramps, tyin them up, settin them on fire, a right evil b*****d. Ah got pulled in for it, turns out it wiz mistaken identity. It wiz somebody wi mah face they were lookin for.” he stopped for a hard stare at Hector.
“It wiznae f****n me.”
“Oh no, it wouldnae ah been, you that's standin there wi a f**k off crossbow tied tae yer back, the f****n model citizen that's what y'are. And what the f**k are y'dayin wi mah pal Kaiser? Has he laid a finger on ye mate?”
“No, no, he's an ally, mutual interests, we're on our way to The Chaplain's.”
“The Chaplain's?”
“Aye we'd ask yous lot if ye'd want tae lend a hand, but yer aw steamin drunk.”
“Whoa-ho, and you guys are sober?” said Scholar.
“Maybe not, okay, you're welcome to come along. You two okay? Want a truce? Shake on it?”
Bing hesitated, then offered his hand.
“Ahm no bein awkward,” said Hector, it's just that Martha told me if ever I was to meet you... 'don't touch him, the two of you will burst into flames'.”
“Doppelgangers,” croaked Jeremiah. And the gang, attention grabbed, moved in, eager not to miss the…
“Aha, ye big fearty, ah saw that,” said ____ .
“Off we go,” said Kaiser, “down this hill.”
They closed in, silent, their best attempt at a sneaking up but their efforts were surplus to requirements, only a lone figure stood round the cohort's burning oil can. Hector grabbed him, twisting his arm up his back.
“The Chaplain,” he snarled, “where is he?”
“Yer too late, they've gone, a big guy came down to see him, they've all gone to set up a gaff, New Jericho they're calling it.”
“What did he look like, this guy?”
“A redder deformity of a face 'ave never seen on any livin soul, looked like somebody gave it a spashin o' battery acid.”
“Horse pish.”
“You never saw it, the Devil himself would be paler, I swear.”
Hector broke his arm with the crack of a dry branch, stifling the screams by searing his lips on the side of the drum.
“New Jericho eh? Any oh you jokers play the trumpet?”