The Green Man Read Free

faces at a nearby table, and cursed under my breath.)
    â€˜So what does your mother want?’ I asked, loudly enough for my fellow drinkers to understand that I was being called home for a specific purpose and not simply because my wife considered me to be malingering.
    But my darling daughter refused to play my game.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ she replied, getting ready to leave, with or without me. ‘She just said that I was to fetch you home if I found you.’
    I settled myself more firmly on my stool.
    â€˜Something must have happened,’ I argued sulkily. ‘Otherwise, she wouldn’t have sent you looking for me.’
    Elizabeth sighed. She was a bright child and observed a great deal more than one imagined. She knew me in this recalcitrant schoolboy mood, and guessed that without further information I would dig in my heels and refuse to move. She pondered a moment or two, staring at me thoughtfully.
    â€˜Well, I don’t know for certain,’ she said at last, ‘but it might have something to do with that funny little man who called at the house earlier this afternoon. About an hour or so ago.’
    â€˜What funny little man?’ All my senses were suddenly alert to potential danger.
    My daughter shrugged irritably. ‘How do I know? I just caught a glimpse of him when Mother answered the door.’ She creased her brow in an effort of recollection. ‘I think I might have seen him before, though.’
    â€˜Where? When?’ I had a sudden nasty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
    â€˜I can’t remember. A long time ago.’ Elizabeth ran out of patience and stamped her foot. ‘Why don’t you just come home, Father, and find out for yourself?’
    It was the obvious solution, but my uneasiness was growing, although it would have been difficult for me to say quite why.
    â€˜Did your mother recognize this man?’ I enquired, catching hold of Elizabeth’s skirt to prevent her leaving.
    â€˜She must have done,’ was the answer. ‘She let him inside. He went into the parlour with her and I heard them talking. Mother said you weren’t home and the man said he’d wait. He said it was urgent.’
    â€˜Is he still there?’
    Elizabeth nodded. Her eyes brightened suddenly. ‘Oh! And he brought us a lovely big piece of meat. I don’t know what it is exactly, but it’s roasting on the kitchen spit right now and it smells wonderful. And he also brought a great fat capon – for the end of the week, he said. Oh, do come on, Father! Just the thought of that meat is making my belly turn somersaults.’
    â€˜You run ahead, then,’ I answered slowly, adding mendaciously, ‘I haven’t paid my shot yet. I’ll follow you just as soon as I’ve done so. Tell your mother I’ll only be a minute or two behind you.’
    Elizabeth accepted this without demur, kissed my cheek affectionately in atonement for any offence she might have given – she knew from experience that any demonstration of submission could always win me round – and tripped gracefully out of the Green Lattis, looking forward to a roast meat supper and without a care in the world.
    I, on the other hand, sat as though rooted to my rickety stool, staring unhappily into space and concocting various wild and impractical schemes for immediate flight. At the same time, I had no real idea why the advent of this stranger, and his urgent desire to speak to me, had filled me with such unease. Someone (Virgil?) had once remarked that he feared the Greeks when they came bearing gifts (or words to that effect). My sentiments exactly; and this ‘Greek’ had brought not just one, but two substantial offerings of flesh when most people would have been overjoyed with a very small pigeon. That in itself was sufficient to make any sane man suspicious.
    But when I analysed my apparently unwarranted fear, there was something more. My