“‘What of this?’

“‘I have a stone in my pouch,’ says the traveller, ‘which, when placed in a cauldron of boiling water, transforms it into a delicious soup.’

“‘Show me this stone,’ says the cook.

“‘I have it in my pouch, if you’ll let me into the warm, I will gladly demonstrate its powers to you.’

“The cook tugs thoughtfully at his beard, for this was in the days when all cooks wore the beard, not just the female ones. And the cook says, ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do. As I haven’t eaten yet tonight, I’ll let you come in and demonstrate your magic. If it works you can share the soup, if not, I’ll kick you back into the night.’

“‘Fair enough,’ says the traveller.

“‘Yeah, and one thing more, if the magic works, then I get to keep the stone.’

“Well, the traveller looks doubtful about this. And he huddles in his rags. But the wind is growing stronger and in the distance a wolf begins to howl. ‘All right,’ says he. ‘It’s a deal.’

“Inside the castle kitchen the cook sets a cauldron to boil upon the Aga and the traveller takes a round black stone from his pouch. With the cook looking on, he drops it into the cauldron and gives it a stir round with a wooden ladle.

“After a while the cook demands to taste the soup. He dips in the ladle and takes a sip. Then he spits onto the floor. ‘It tastes of nothing but water with a stone in it,’ says he.

“The traveller too takes a sip. ‘It lacks for something,’ he says. ‘Do you have any herbs, thyme, say, or rosemary?’

“‘That I do.’

“‘Then let’s put them in.’

“‘Very well.’

“So in go the herbs and after a while the cook takes another sip. And he spits on the floor again. ‘Now it just tastes like water with a stone and some herbs in,’ says he.

“The traveller takes another sip. ‘It still lacks for something,’ he says. ‘Do you have any chicken stock?’

“‘That I do.’

“‘Then let’s put it in.’

“‘Very well.’

“So the chicken stock goes in and after a while the cook takes another sip. And again he spits on the floor, remarking that now it just tastes like boiling water with a stone, some herbs and some chicken stock in it.

“The traveller agrees that it still lacks for something and he suggests the addition of a half-eaten chicken carcass that is standing on a platter on the table.

“The cook adds this to the soup.

“‘How does it taste now?’ asks the traveller a little later on.

“‘Better,’ says the cook. ‘But it could do with some cornflour and parsnips.’

“‘Put them in,’ says the traveller. ‘And put in some of those carrots you have over there, and those new potatoes.’

“‘What about these mushrooms?’ asks the cook.

“‘Stick them in too,’ says the traveller.

“And the cook does.

“The cauldron boils and the traveller and the cook stand a sniffing. At length the traveller tastes the soup and says that in his considered opinion it is ready for the eating, but what does the cook think?

“The cook has another taste. ‘A touch more salt,’ he says.

“The traveller has another taste and declares the soup, ‘Just so’, adding that to appreciate it at its very best it should be taken in company with thickly buttered bread.

“The cook hastens to the bread locker.

“‘And fetch a jug of wine,’ says the traveller.

“And then the two men sit down to dine.

“Over the soup, which they both agree to be splendid, the traveller tells the cook of the sights he’s seen and the things he’s heard. And the cook tells the traveller about how he’s thinking of opening a small restaurant down in the town.

“The talk continues over the cheese board, accompanied now by brandy from the cook’s private stock and a couple of the castle lord’s cigars.

“Later, somewhat full about the belly and light about the head, the two settle down in front of the kitchen fire and fall asleep.

“On the morrow the traveller departs upon his way. The cook waves goodbye from the battlements and the last he sees of him, is the traveller disappearing over the brow of a distant hill, having stopped only once, to pick up a stone at random and pop it into his pouch.”

Omally smiled and took a drink from his new pint.

“And what happened next?” Russell asked.

“What do you think happened next?”

“My guess would be that the traveller went on to another castle and repeated the performance.”

“That would be my guess too.”

Jim Pooley returned to the table in the company of a pint of Large and a small gin with lots of tonic. “Did the cook fall for it again?” he asked Omally.

“He did,” said John.

Pooley placed the drinks on the table. “One day he won’t and I pity the poor traveller then.”

“Did you get it?” John asked Russell. “Do you understand the metaphor?”

“Oh yes,” said Russell. “I get it.”

“I wish I did,” said Jim.

Russell turned to Julie. “We had best drink up and set to work. I think I know what to do.”

“These will help.” Omally reached under the table and brought out two plastic bin liners. “A change of clothes for each of you. And there’s some money in the pockets.”

“Thank you, John.” Russell shook Omally by the hand. Jim stuck his out, but Russell politely declined on the grounds that things might become a little complicated and there was still a great deal to do.

They changed in the toilets. Russell togged up in the black suit with lightning-flash insignias on the shoulders and Julie into that dress of golden scales.

Back in the saloon bar they said farewell and thanks to Pooley and Omally.

“If it all works out,” said Russell, “we’ll see you both back in old Brentford. Here in this very bar. And the drinks will be on me this time.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Pooley.

John and Jim returned to their window seats and watched as Russell and Julie walked off hand in hand along the something-strasser, bound once more for the big shopping mall.

“I hope he makes it,” said Jim.

“He will,” said John.

“John?” said Jim.

“Jim?” said John.

“All that stuff about the metaphor, you wouldn’t care to explain that to me?”

“I would,” said John. “If I only knew what it meant.”

19

Back to The Führer III

“So you know what it means?” said Julie as they walked towards the mall.

“Oh yes,” said Russell. “It all makes perfect sense.”

“Well, I understand that you’re the traveller.”

“Oh no, I’m not the traveller, I’m the stone.”

“But the stone was a fake, it didn’t do anything.”

“It was a symbol,” said Russell. “It represents the individual, the individual as a catalyst for change.”

“And the cauldron?”

“The cauldron is the world.”

“And the vegetables and suchlike?”

“Society,” said Russell.

“That sounds about right.”

“You see the stone couldn’t make the soup on its own, but without the stone the soup would never have been made.”

“I thought the cook made the soup.”

“The cook is an aspect of society. He represents society’s greed and its ultimate gullibility.”

“And the traveller?”

“The traveller is time.”

“A time traveller, then the traveller is you.”

“No, I’m definitely the stone.”

“And the boiling water?”

“Change,” said Russell. “Water represents change, because water can be changed into steam or into ice.”

“Water represents permanence,” said Julie. “You can change its form, but you can’t get rid of it. So perhaps the water represents society.”

“Society is the sum of its parts,” said Russell. “The soup is society.”

“You said the vegetables were society.”

“Yes, I meant the vegetables.”

“But you just said the soup.”

“The soup is made out of the vegetables.”