9

Duel In The Park

It was him. Just like he looked in the photograph, but bigger, more supercilious, and with a slimier smile.

Earl Mostyn wasn’t like Liam. He sat astride his huge black stallion, twiddling the curls of his enormous shiny black wig beneath a vast oak tree – waiting. A footman positioned a few yards away held a blood-red cushion carrying two shiny new silver pistols.

‘Be sure, Footman,’ he was saying, ‘when the duel commences you hand the gun on the right to Liam and the gun on the left to yours truly.’

When he saw Liam, the Captain and Steve approaching, Earl Mostyn leapt off his horse and swaggered towards them.

‘I thought you weren’t going to turn up,’ he said, pulling off one of his black gloves. ‘At least you’re not a coward, you’re merely a fool.’

‘I’ve been practising like mad,’ said Liam. ‘You’re the one who’s going to look silly.’

‘If silly is riding off into the sunset with the most beautiful girl in the world, whilst you lie dead in the park for crows to feed off – then silly it is,’ said Earl Mostyn. ‘Chose your weapons.’

‘Actually,’ said Liam. ‘I won’t be fighting this duel today.’

A fiery look crossed Earl Mostyn’s face. He stepped up to Liam and slapped him across the face with his glove.

‘What do you mean? Are you a coward, Sir? Have you come all this way to tell me that you are about to run away, squire? Are you even sillier than I first thought?’ said Earl Mostyn.

‘Not so fast,’ interrupted the Captain. ‘According to the rules of duelling, Liam is entitled to appoint a second to do his shooting for him.’

The Earl looked down at the Captain. In comparison with the fine clothes and muscular physique of the Earl, the Captain looked old and short. His ragged ginger wig made him look a bit like a shaggy dog, or perhaps a small bear.

‘Are you seriously telling me that this ridiculous old man is your second? I doubt if he could see far enough to hit a target. He is a perambulating wig.’

‘Actually,’ said Steve calmly. ‘It’s me. I’m the second. And by the way, since you challenged Liam to the duel we get to the chose the weapons. I’ll be using the Captain’s pistols.’

Earl Mostyn turned his attention to Steve.

‘A boy?’ he said incredulously. ‘You’d let an idiotic boy like this take a bullet for you? The Countess of Shropshire would never marry a man like you. You’re an absolute coward, Sir.’

‘We’ve thought about it long and hard. It turns out that I’m a very bad shot,’ said Liam. ‘Steve, on the other hand, can hit a flowerpot on a sundial from a hundred yards.’

Rage flooded Earl Mostyn’s veins. He was a good shot, but the guns he’d prepared had been loaded in his favour. His contained a lead bullet. The one he was going to give to Liam contained nothing but powder. He took a step back as the Captain held out his two pistols.

‘Chose your weapon,’ hissed the Captain.

‘Wait,’ said Earl Mostyn, ‘if you are going to fight with a second, then, surely, according to the rules of duelling, I should also be afforded the same luxury. Footman!’

The footman put down his cushion and stepped forward.

‘Kill this boy,’ said Earl Mostyn, pointing at Steve.

Steve smiled. He felt confident he could beat anybody in a duel.

‘But…’ stammered the footman.

‘Go to it, man,’ shouted Earl Mostyn.

‘I will stand on the side and drop a handkerchief. First you must take a weapon. Then each of you must walk twenty paces apart. If Steve kills my footman, then we shall see who wins the heart of The Countess of Shropshire at the competition tonight. If, on the other hand, my footman kills Steve, then you forfeit your right to play any tunes to anybody.’

‘Very well,’ said Liam.

The Captain handed out the weapons.

The duellists stood back to back.

‘One,’ shouted the Captain.

They each took a pace away from one another.

‘Two,’ shouted the Captain.

Steve wasn’t nervous at all. Duelling was fun.

‘Three,’ shouted the Captain.

‘Go on, Steve,’ urged Liam.

‘Four,’ said the Captain.

Steve and the footman took another step apart.

‘Five.’

…and another.

As Steve and the footman stepped further apart, Earl Mostyn and Liam glared at one another.

Finally the Captain reached the end of the countdown.

‘Twenty,’ he cried as Earl Mostyn dropped a silk handkerchief. ‘Duellists, you may turn and fire at will!’

Steve spun round. He was surprised to see the footman had already turned and was aiming the barrel of his gun directly at him. He saw a plume of smoke, he heard the loud bang of the powder and then he felt something whistle past his head.

Instinctively, Steve grabbed at his head. Then he looked at his hands. He expected to see blood pouring from a terrible head wound. But there was none. Then his wig landed on the grass near his feet. The footman had shot his wig off.

Liam and the Captain cheered.

‘You missed!’ they yelled.

‘Now you have a free shot,’ explained the Captain. ‘The footman must stand still until you have blasted him to smithereens.’

Steve stared at the footman. A dreadful look of fear swept across the poor man’s face.

‘Go on Steve,’ yelled The Captain, waving his crutch in the air. ‘Blow his brains out.’

Steve stayed calm. He lined the barrel of his pistol up with the footman. He knew he had all the time in the world. Then he raised his gun high towards the sky and pulled the trigger. The bullet flew harmlessly upwards, narrowly missing a passing seagull.

The footman ran towards Steve, hugging him and thanking him for sparing his life. The Captain cursed old sailor’s curses.

Earl Mostyn turned to Liam.

‘Your fellow Steve is a man of honour,’ he said.

Earl Mostyn jumped onto his black stallion.

‘Honour has cost you The Countess of Shropshire,’ he snarled. ‘You have no music, no musicians and no chance of bringing an orchestra to the riverfront. This evening you’ll watch the Countess choose me.’

As Earl Mostyn thundered off on his horse, Steve took the Captain to one side.

‘We need to move quickly,’ said Steve. ‘You must know some musicians. Pirates are famous for their singing: hornpipes and reels, sea shanties and jigs.’

A smile flashed across the Captain’s face.

‘You mean like Cannonball Eric? Used to play his trumpet whenever we boarded a stricken vessel.’

‘Exactly,’ said Steve. ‘We need every musician you can think of.’

‘Jerry and the Sailmakers? The Hornpipe Hoochy Coochy Band? Bob Marley and the Whalers?’

‘That’s it,’ said Steve, ‘we’ll beat their orchestra with musicians who’ve sailed the seven seas.’

The Captain told Steve where to find his old musicians and he gave him the names of the best ones. Then Liam and the Captain hurried away to set up the stage.

‘I’ll meet you at the riverfront at 7pm sharp,’ yelled Steve.