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The Quest for the HolEy Pail

Grant Bremner was born in Scotland but spent his entire working life with the BBC in London in a variety of positions within Film and Television. He took early retirement due to worsening back problems and settled in the sun in southern Spain with his wife Sue where he began writing seriously.

Grant BremNer

The Quest for the HolEy Pail

Copyright G r a n t B r e mn e r The moral right of Grant Bremner to be identified as a Tolkien fan not dressed up as an elf, just to confuse Mark Lawson, has been asserted by them in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers. Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library. ISBN 978 1 84963 399 7 www.austinmacauley.com First Published (2013) Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd. 25 Canada Square Canary Wharf London E14 5LB

Printed & Bound in Great Britain

Dedication
To my wife Sue for her invaluable help and unstinting support during the long hours it took to put this tale together, my gratitude. Thanks also for taking Pippa for her walks whilst I was typing furiously in front of the computer.

Acknowledgements
Although not a fan of science fiction, life-long friend George Thain provided me with the inspiration I required for The Map of Chaotic Space, so from one old Duffer to another, my sincere thanks.

Prologue
The Grand Order of the Knights of the Holey Pail was established by the monks of the Celestial Order under the then Abbot Augustine Benedictus in the Year of the Toad 329 BT (Before Tax). It appears that the good Abbot had a vision after drinking copious amounts of Bendictine made by the Order. Apparently the vision instructed him that the Order must begin the search for the Holy Grail but as the monks were a silent order they had to accept the good Abbots writing as a means of understanding what he required of them. Unfortunately his writing could only be described at best as, well terrible, nearly unreadable. Therefore, the Holy Grail was misread as the Holey Pail. The good Abbot died shortly after receiving his vision and the monks took this to be a good omen and undertook the task of setting up a body of true and virtuous men to search for the Holey Pail. They established the Grand Order of Knights by appointing three knights and their squires. They then informed them of their quest - but all of this happened a very, very long time ago. The Grand Order of The Knights of the Holey Pail has been established in Chaotic Space for eons. Well, in truth nobody knows for how long but Arch Tishop Commode, the expert in this field, being the only person studying the Grand Order, was heard to say once, The three good knights have been in search for the Holey Pail for, ah, ahem, yes, well, er, mm, eons.

The Chaotic Space Map


The following is an extract of a conversation overheard by an employee between elderly twin brothers who were the joint owners of a printing firm. Why the employee made such a record and then had it placed in the national archives is unknown. But it doesnt actually show the precise locations of the planets and stuff, said Duffer incredulously, how can we print it? For goodness sake Duffer, it's Chaotic Space were talking about, the planets, gas giants and the like are known to be here one minute and over there the next, he answered pointing a wizened finger at the map. Look, I know its Chaotic Space were discussing, Im just thinking of the legal ramifications if anyone runs into a planet, gets trapped in sluggish space then decides to sue us for producing an inaccurate map, argued the elder Duffer, by a mere seven minutes. Well they shouldnt be there in the first place, there are warning beacons all around dissuading space-faring folks against entering and if some stupid idiot does, its hardly our fault, you silly old duffer, stated the younger Duffer emphatically. I know that but dont we have a moral obligation to produce an accurate map, shouldnt we at least send a mapping ship there for confirmation? suggested the older brother. Have you lost your marbles? Go there, to Chaotic Space? Are you completely insane? Look Duffer remember when we asked marketing to come up with a projected

figure of how many maps we were likely to sell, do you remember the answer? Older Duffer glanced down sheepishly towards the floor avoiding his younger brothers enquiring eyes. They said we'd be lucky if we sold more than a dozen, he replied meekly. There you go then, and you want the company to send a survey ship at massive expense to accurately map an area of space that is actually unmappable, can never be charted accurately, and which is unsellable to boot. We print the map as it is, no alterations, all right Duffer? Okay Duffer.

The Beginning
As asteroid belts go the one currently occupied by and, therefore home to, the three Grand Knights of the Order of the Holey Pail and their trusty squires was rather large, and without doubt big enough to hold up a pair of trousers with plenty to spare. But as everyone knows, knights do not go in for trousers, preferring instead leggings and sturdy boots to cover their legs. They also wear a mantle, a garment similar to that of a womans frock, not that Im saying there is something odd about that. Beneath the mantle they wear chain-mail, not to keep warm but to prevent implements of death piercing their delicate bodies. To complete their ensemble they wear a kind of crash helmet on their heads to protect them, not from the inclement weather they may have to endure during their quest, but to stop axes, swords, lances and suchlike from crushing their respective skulls. But these helmets are state of the art, they have inbuilt night vision very useful in the darkness that is space, a range finder, a microphone, stereo speakers, a speedometer and a small windscreen washer for those occasions when it is raining cats and dogs. Six persons were fast asleep inside a cave on an ice asteroid travelling through Chaotic Space. They had decided to camp here in order to give the space-horses a bit of a rest, they had travelled non-stop for nearly fifty-six hundred light-years. The truth of it really was that Answalot was fed up, feeling depressed having run out of ideas for where to lead the quest next. He required time to decide whether to return home without the holey relic or carry on. Years and years of searching for a very small item in a multiverse can

leave a person very dejected at times, and this was one of those times. No worries, Agravere had said just after they had landed on the asteroid. But had he really meant that? Normally he was a right pain in the arse, always questioning Answalots decisions. I trust in your judgement, Loinclot had remarked, once they had cut out a cave with their thermal lances. But did he really? He could be very inconsiderate at times, nearly always actually. So why change now? Ill tell them that we need to stay here stuck on the ice for a year and theyll soon change their minds, Answalot thought. I need time to reflect on where we have been before I can direct you forwards, he had informed them as they sat eating the food the squires had cooked. Take your time, said Loinclot easily as he sprinkled salt into his soup. As long as you need, quipped Agravere reaching for the pepper. I require a year then, he jested lightly knowing they would take it seriously. Hells teeth. Thats not on Answalot, well freeze our whatsits off, be reasonable, remarked Loinclot spilling his soup on his mantle. Damn, look what youve made me do. Dont even joke about it, a, a year. This is an, an, you know an ice thingy, whimpered Agravere who had failed astrophysics miserably at college. Its all right, no need to get your chainmail in a twist, it was but a jest, said Answalot easily, yet wondering how long he really was prepared to stay on this ice asteroid. One week passed with quite a few moans and groans at every mealtime about the cold freezing the chainmail. Sir Answalot, unable to sleep stood up slowly, he just couldnt get rid of the niggling doubts that had been

growing in his mind these past endless years. Does the relic actually exist? Has the quest been a complete and utter waste of time? He was completely out of ideas as to where to search next for the elusive Holey Pail. He knew that the other knights would soon be expecting him to inform them where they should look next as he had been doing ever since their quest had begun. Standing up he saw that his travelling companions were all asleep around the dying embers of the fire. Walking carefully and silently out of the cave he peered at the night sky hoping that tonight he would see a sign that would guide him and rekindle his belief that the relic existed. Squire Beeday through half open eyes watched his noble master leave the warm shelter of the cave and go outside. He doubted that his master was weak in the bladder department and therefore needing to relieve himself. Sir Answalot was a nobleman and could go for days without having a pee. It had to be a sign, as had happened so many times before on their quest. The good and valiant knight would seek an answer from amongst the stars as to where they should go next on their perilous quest. Over breakfast he would inform his colleagues of the premonition that he had seen in the darkness of space as they had slept. Then he would instruct the squires to ready the space-horses for the journey. It had always happened that way thought Squire Beeday to himself, always, and on the morrow breakfast would be no different. He sighed contentedly, drew his worn shabby blanket around his shoulders and quickly drifted back to sleep. What was that? Sir Answalot asked himself as his eyes caught a glimpse of something moving across the night sky. At first he thought it might be a shooting star entering a planets atmosphere, but it had been moving too slowly and they were light-years from any known planet in this area of

Chaotic Space. Whatever it was he had seen was moving serenely and majestically through space. Fumbling beneath his mantle he brought out a pair of powerful binoculars, capable of seeing a planet twenty light-years distant. He had acquired the binoculars whilst trading at a car boot sale on some weird planet they found after entering a temporal space distortion. It had been an episode in his life that Answalot would rather forget, so he did. After a few futile attempts at trying to get the binoculars in focus, finally he was able to direct them to the area of space where he thought he had seen the object. Ah, there it is, he said to himself stepping back a couple of paces. Ouch, he hit his head on the entrance of the cave letting the binoculars fall from his grasp. Forgetting his pain he quickly gathered up the binoculars and stared through them open mouthed as his brain adjusted to what he was seeing through the powerful magnifying glass: it was an island. In Chaotic Space where the laws of physics are somewhat random you can expect to see the unusual, which is usually quite usual. However, in this particular case, it was not the sight of the island that had surprised him, it was what was on the island that had given him such a surprise. It was a castle. Not just an ordinary, everyday average kind of castle, this one was special, thought Sir Answalot as it gleamed in the darkness of space. Perched on a hilltop, it had a gigantic portcullis, tall towers on each corner made from what appeared to be marble, adorned with fluttering flags, battlements, and to cap it all, it was surrounded by a wide moat. Then, suddenly it was gone, just as if it had never existed. He swept the binoculars from side to side, up and down, trying to find the castle but to no avail. After half an hour had passed Sir Answalot, heavy of heart, and cold, returned to the sanctuary of the warm cave, wondering what tale he would spin for his friends on the morrow.

Chapter 2
But Father, I am fair vexed. I dont want to marry the Dark Duke. You should have told the fool that I am poorly and that you cant ask me, answered the frail yet beautiful maiden, Princess Gwendoline, testily across the breakfast table before tossing the remains of a chicken leg behind her for the dogs to feed on. It can be assumed that the castle did not engage the services of a vet or the good maiden would have known that chicken bones can be deadly for a dog. Ask you, Gwendoline? I do not recall that, ahem, that I asked you young lady. I told you, eh, that you were to marry the Dark Duke, mm, and theres an end to it, thundered King Ethel in the general direction of his daughter as he picked some roast boar from his blackened and broken teeth with a sharp knife. But Father I do not love the Dark Duke. I have never even seen the face of the Duke, he might be ugly for all I know. How can you expect me to marry someone I do not know and have never seen? pleaded Gwendoline fluttering her long dark eyelashes in her fathers direction. Behind her she could hear one of the dogs choking quietly, most likely on a discarded chicken bone. What in hells teeth does it matter if he is ugly? I married your mother and she did not complain about my face, nor did I about hers. I have given my word to the Dark Duke and cemented your betrothal by arranging a stag night at the castle on Friday evening. The wedding will take place the following day. So stop this nonsense and kick the dog thats making that unholy row in the belly as it fair distresses me to hear animals whelping, said King Ethel

showing no sympathy, in fact a complete indifference, to the feelings of his only daughter and the poor dog. Princess Gwendoline knew that she would have to do what her father told her in the end, and no amount of pleading on her part would change his mind. Having cemented his word by arranging for a stag night was the final straw, she would have to go through with a marriage ceremony to a total stranger. If only her mother were alive, she might have been in a position to intervene, but alas she had died giving birth to Gwendoline, a fact of which her father reminded her often. She stood up and prepared to leave the breakfast feast with some dignity. Aligning her pleats she kicked the offending dog lightly in the throat and was pleased to see a small part of chicken bone dislodge itself as she walked towards the staircase with her head held high. If she was to marry the Dark Duke then she had better try and find out something about him, he might in fact be a kindly handsome man who liked flowers and embroidery as much as she did. Women, said King Ethel the moment his daughter was of out sight. Tell me Lord Anthony why do they make us suffer so? Well my good and noble King, Im afraid that we have to put up with them or else we ourselves would soon flounder. Sire, you have a beautiful daughter and she has your inner strength. However, in this matter she will obey you and accept her fate, answered Lord Anthony carefully and measuredly for he had feelings for the princess. Unfortunately it was not measured enough by the look on the Kings face. Fate you say sir? Pray what do you mean by that my lord? the question was sharp and shrill. Anthony knew instantly hed made an error. Why her destiny my King, to be wedded to the Dark Duke with all

his lands and titles. She could do no better Sire. You have honoured her greatly, he answered hoping that would get him out of it. However, hed better be on his guard in the week ahead. He did not want to upset his king either before or after the wedding. King Ethel could be a very unforgiving man. Well said, Sir Anthony. Yes, I think a good match, for I shall receive twenty thousand acres of land, two hundred head of cattle and nine thousand coins of gold. The Dark Duke is a good catch for my daughter, she should be pleased that such a match is made, enthused the King as he thought of the wealth coming his way soon. In a day or so from now he was to receive a non-returnable deposit of ten per cent of the gold coins, which was part of the prenuptial agreement he had made with the Dark Dukes equerry. He had been surprised and pleased at the Dark Dukes offer to pay such a large dowry, perhaps he was unaware that he, as the bridegroom-to-be, should be the recipient of the dowry. King Ethel wasnt going to tell him and even if the Dark Duke found out his mistake - the agreement was signed now. Gwendoline had been sickly as a child and had not developed as much as he would have hoped for in the chest department. King Ethel was most anxious she be married in case she might die on him soon, leaving him with no dowry. She was, after all, nearly fifteen years old, almost beyond her prime in the marriage business. Sire, if I may be so bold, where exactly does the Dark Duke dwell? We have not as yet seen him at your court, er, have we? enquired Sir Anthony, curious to find out as much as he could about the husband to be. His estate is outside my kingdom, some hundred leagues to the north of the castle, about five days march from here. No, the Dark Duke himself has not as yet travelled within the boundaries of my lands, but I was presented with a likeness of him from his equerry,

answered the King as he rummaged beneath his outer garments in search of the likeness. Ah, I have it, he said as he passed a small portrait to Sir Anthony. Taking the small painting from his King, it was fortunate that Sir Anthony was seated to the side of his majesty and not in front of him, as he was unable to stop the huge grin that spread across his face as his eyes caught sight of the likeness of the Dark Duke. He was very small, standing by his horse it was easy to determine his height. Yet it had not been the height of the man but his face, if the likeness was a true reflection then he doubted that the fair maiden Princess Gwendoline was going to like what she saw. The Dark Duke was completely bald, had deep-set black eyes, a gigantic nose on a pock-marked face and a mouthful of broken and blackened teeth, with a goatee beard completing the picture. What do you think of him, eh, Anthony? Come, come give me your honest opinion, said King Ethel as he picked up a wine goblet and proceeded to drink its contents. My King, you must have lost your eyesight, the man is at least sixty years older than the fair Princess. He is hideous, bald, with a huge hooter, has horrible teeth and looks as if he at one time had the plague. How could you do such a thing, my King? This is what Sir Anthony wanted to say. Instead he said. Well ah, ahem, I think that er, he has some good qualities about him. He is rather shorter than I somehow imagined he would be. Shorter you say, let me have that, the King snatched the small painting from Sir Anthonys hand and stared at the picture thoughtfully for a few moments before he said, Well, I see what you are on about, but that horse he is posing next to might be er, eh twenty-two hands. Then he would be larger than what we think he might be. Yes of course that could be an answer, ahem. It was quite clear that the King was trying to convince himself. What say

you, Sir Duane? asked the King as he passed the picture across the table. Sir Duane, having noticed Sir Anthonys initial reaction, was therefore already forewarned about the likely appearance of the Dark Duke. Although he was not on particularly good terms with Sir Anthony he was absolutely potty about the fair maiden Gwendoline. It would be fair for all to assume that Sir Duane was a creep, in fact a first rate creep. He would do and say anything if he thought it might gain favour with the King. Sire what judgement you have, you can see by the way he stands by his mount that he is of noble blood, he is a fair choice for your daughter, he enthused making sure to mention nothing of his likeness. Sir Duane had judged the Dark Duke to be nearer seventy and he was absolutely delighted with that as people of that age can die so easily from the mildest of ailments. He could see that he would not have to wait that long before Princess Gwendoline was a widow and available. If the Dark Duke lingered then he could be easily dispatched to meet his maker with the help of a pillow over his face. Thank you Sir Duane, I can see what you have observed to be true. Now gentlemen I must send one of you to meet with the Dark Duke and escort him to the castle in time for the stag night. Sir Duane, I command that you go forth and ensure that the groom is brought safely here. You may leave when the deposit is safely in my vault. If all goes well you should meet the Dark Duke on his way here near the forbidden swamp, said the King his mind returning to ten per cent of the dowry once more. As you have commanded so it shall be done, said the pious Sir Duane. It would be very easy on a journey of over one hundred leagues for an accident to befall anyone, particularly near the forbidden swamp. Unfortunately however, on this occasion he would have to ensure that the Dark Duke arrived safely with the remainder of the dowry.

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