James Roy - The Gimlet Eye

‘Then Darmas Girth leads the hunting party out into the dark woods – without Robar – and they search for days, but can’t find the Eye. But one night, when they’re about to give up the search, the hunting party is sleeping out in the woods, near a creek of some kind, and Darmas Girth hears the sound of singing, and he wakes up to see a beautiful maiden bathing in the moonlight, singing softly to herself.’

‘Oh dear,’ Amelia sighed. ‘She’s naked, isn’t she?’

Tab smiled. ‘I’m afraid so.’

Amelia chuckled. ‘Men,’ she said.

‘It’s a fable, Amelia. So of course Darmas Girth can’t look away, he’s so captivated by her beauty, and he gets up from his place beside the fire and goes over there, and the beautiful woman turns around and yes, it’s the beastie, and it cooks his brain and eats his head.’

‘Nice,’ said Amelia. ‘Isn’t it? So all the other men wake up and hear this commotion, and luckily the Gimlet Eye is too busy eating Darmas Girth’s head to bother looking like a lovely woman any more, so they see it in all its horrible awfulness.’

‘Which is what? What’s it look like?’

Tab shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. It’s just… horrible.’

‘And awful?’

‘Yes, very. So the men all run away and go back to the village, and although they’re upset that Darmas Girth is dead – but only a bit upset, because even though he was strong and brave, he was also a bit of a bully – they’re more disappointed that they haven’t been able to kill the Gimlet Eye as they set out to do.’

‘Which means they’re going to have to keep locking their animals up at night.’

‘That’s right. But do you know who’s most upset about Darmas Girth getting his head eaten? Sarad, Robar’s wife. You see, she was secretly in love with him.’

‘It wasn’t that much of a secret,’ Amelia said. ‘You told me that just a minute ago.’

‘Well anyway, it’s a secret to everyone else, including Robar. And when he finds out that his wife is so grief-stricken at the news of Darmas Girth’s death, he decides to do something.’

‘Let me guess – he decides to go out and hunt the Gimlet Eye himself.’

‘Yes! Exactly!’ Tab replied. ‘How did you know?’

‘Just a hunch. But hang on – won’t he get his head eaten as well?’

Tab stopped walking and looked at Amelia, a sly smile on her lips. ‘He can only fall victim to the Gimlet Eye if he can see it, can’t he?’

‘I suppose so…’

‘And he’s already blind in one eye, isn’t he? So do you know what he does?’

‘Oh no,’ Amelia said, shaking her head. ‘He doesn’t!’

‘He does. He goes out into the woods with his walking stick and his trusty little dog Fargus, and in his pocket he has a small tool from his workshop – a tiny little hand-drill.’

‘A gimlet!’ said Amelia.

Tab nodded and smiled. ‘Exactly. And he hunts for the monster until one night he’s sitting by his campfire and he hears Fargus start woofing like mad. The dog’s going crazy, and sensing that he’s spotted the beastie, Robar takes out the gimlet from his pocket and…’ She paused, watching Amelia for a reaction.

They’d stopped walking, and were in the middle of the street, with people pushing past, walking around them, going about their daily errands. ‘What does he do with the gimlet?’ Amelia asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

‘I don’t know,’ Tab replied. ‘That’s as far as I’ve read.’

‘No!’ cried Amelia. ‘You must know what happens!’

Tab grinned, and shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’

‘You could have said that you didn’t know the ending to the story before you started telling it to me!’

Tab shrugged. ‘Yes, probably. Oh, look, we’re there,’ she added, peering up at the front wall and main door to the New Paragon.

The Unja guard at the front door was young and bored, so it was a very simple matter to distract him by ‘accidentally’ knocking over a water trough in the street, then sneaking into the playhouse while he was watching the ensuing havoc.

The loudest voice the girls could hear as they entered was Fontagu’s. ‘No, no, no!’ he was shouting at a poor, hapless young boy in a dress. ‘The part of Sarad needs more menace. But not too much. I’m sure you’ve at least heard of subtlety? She’s a complex character, you stupid boy, and you’re playing her like some kind of one-dimensional fishwife!’ He put his hands to his head and sank back onto a chair, while the boy in the dress and another young man holding an oversized stage sword stood stunned and awkward.

‘If only they’d let girls play girls’ parts,’ Amelia said.

‘Or Florian,’ Tab replied, and they both laughed.

At the sound of their laughter, Fontagu turned and saw them. ‘Friends!’ he said. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see a couple of kind faces. Kind intelligent faces, not like these dolts. Go on, take a break before I see sense and fire you both,’ he said to the two actors, who scuttled away backstage.

‘Not going so well, then?’ Tab asked, leaning on the edge of the stage and looking up at Fontagu.

He groaned. ‘If Florian doesn’t kill me, the reviews will! It’s less than a week until opening night, and look at what I’m working with – wooden swords and a clod in a dress!’

Tab felt something on her foot, and looked down to see a small, fluffy white dog sitting on it. ‘Make yourself comfortable, won’t you?’ she said to it.

‘Oh, how cute!’ squealed Amelia, bending down to scratch the dog’s head. ‘Whose is it?’

‘I don’t rightly know,’ Fontagu said. ‘It just turned up off the street and took a shine to me. I don’t suppose you’re an agent, are you?’ he asked the dog, before groaning and shaking his head despairingly. ‘Then you could get me out of his mess.’

‘What’s the dog called?’ Tab asked.

‘I’ve named him after the dog in the play,’ Fontagu said.

‘Fargus!’ Amelia said proudly. ‘Is he going to actually be in the play?’

‘No, I don’t expect so, but I could stick him in a dress and he’d be certain to do a better job than that halfwit you were unfortunate enough to see a moment ago.’

‘How are the script changes working out?’

‘The ones that Janus made?’ Fontagu appeared less than impressed. ‘Imagine the finest thickleberry tart, with clotted cream and a drizzle of lemon whey.’

‘Mmm,’ the girls said in unison.

‘Now imagine a cockroach crawling through it.’

‘Ew,’ said Tab.

‘Uh-uh,’ said Amelia.

‘Well, the tart is my play, and that horrid insect crawling through it is the page of changes they insisted upon.’ Fontagu sighed and stood up. ‘Well, you’d best let me get on with it – see if we can’t pick around the cockroach. You can stay and watch for a while if you like. Come on, cretins one and all,’ he called. ‘Dresses on and away we go.’ Then he glanced back at the girls and rolled his eyes again.

While Fontagu and the other actors went back to their rehearsals, Tab and Amelia went exploring the New Paragon. The main part of the playhouse was a huge expanse of stone floor scattered with straw, where the audience would stand, looking up at the performers. Around the walls were stalls for those prepared to pay a little more for their tickets, while the royal box was near the side of the stage. The girls sat in the cushioned seats, putting their feet up on the side-tables and looking down their noses at the actors practising on the stage.

‘I am Florian the Gross,’ Amelia said. ‘I am better than everyone here.’

‘And I am Janus the Slightly Creepy,’ said Tab. ‘I have a friend who smells of tigerplums.’