Peter & Max - Bill Willingham [89]
And almost at once, perhaps for his many sins, his wish was granted.
“My dear, long lost brother!” Max Piper cried in delight. “How extraordinary, and how absolutely wonderful to find you here!”
In which Peter puts his
wife in a pumpkin shell,
and tries to keep her
very well.
PETER AND BO CROUCHED TOGETHER, BELOW the low green hedgerow that bordered a gently winding country lane. In the three months since they’d escaped Hamelin, retrieving various stashes of Peter’s loot from scattered hidey holes, and an equal number of Bo’s hidden bundles of exotic weapons from secret caches, they’d made their way nearly four hundred leagues, south and westward, across the Hesse, to the outskirts of a southern little seaport town called SonnenSee. Even in October, this was a pleasant, summery land of rolling golden pastures and rich farmlands, occasionally separated by miles-long stretches of high granite hills, on the lower slopes of which could be found the only substantial stands of uncleared woodlands. Both of the fugitives were more than happy to have left the deeper, more primeval reaches of the Black Forest far behind.
They hid on the landward side of the hedgerow, in order to avoid detection from a solitary farmer who was leading a creaking old donkey cart down the road. The ponderous two-wheeled cart was piled high with fresh produce. No doubt the farmer was bringing his harvest goods into SonnenSee, to sell in the public markets that sprang up in every town and village during the harvest season.
This close to the sea, bright white gulls dotted the wide azure sky, their wings tipped with black or gray. Some drifted high, riding the lazy thermals that rose up from the chalky seaside cliffs and inland granite escarpments, while others dived and banked closer to ground, on the lookout for their next scavenging opportunity. Always they squawked and scolded and called to each other, being a very chatty sort of bird.
When the farmer had come very close to their hiding place, Peter and Bo vaulted lithely and easily over the hedge and confronted the man, who was an older fellow and scrambled backwards, all the while clutching at his chest.
“I’m sorry, Grandfather,” Bo said. “We didn’t mean to startle you. We just needed to make sure that we’d be able to talk to you with no other witnesses. Be assured that we mean you no harm and we’re not thieves.”
“Well, to be perfectly honest, I am,” Peter said, “but not today. In truth we’re here with gold in hand, willing to buy what we want.”
“At a very good price,” Bo added.
“What sort of people hide behind bushes, only to jump out at innocent, hardworking country folk?” the old farmer said, looking suspicious, accusatory and still breathing hard, if no longer quite showing a danger of some sort of imminent collapse. “What exactly is it you want from me?”
“Everything,” Peter said, flashing a jolly smile. “The donkey, the cart and everything in it. Think of a good price for the lot, and then double it. We’re feeling particularly generous today.”
“And add to that,” Bo said, “the cost of insuring that you’ll go straight home from here, back the way you came, where you’ll stay for at least a week before venturing to go to town again.”
“What do you need my cart, my crops and my Gertraud for?”
“We’ve got it in our hearts to be simple farm folk for a day,” Peter said.
“For the past three months we’ve been every other sort of folk,” Bo said. “We’ve been an old grandfather and his old wife. I’ve been an old woman with her grown son. And Peter’s been an old man with his grown daughter. Once even, lacking time and materials to fashion disguises, we even traveled as a young man and his wife. Now it’s time to be something else.”
“To be perfectly candid,” Peter said, “the gobs, and their wicked masters who now rule this land, may still be looking for a young married couple traveling together, so we tend to avoid