The Emperor (A Tale for Halloween)

I

“Alabaster? Yes real alabaster, genuine alabaster. I take English pounds sir.”
The sun’s rays soothed my back as I slept. “I’ll pay ten pounds for it.” I opened up my eyes halfway to look. “No, no sir. This is worth fifteen pounds.”
“Oh darling, you’re no good at this. Five pounds.”
“Five pounds!”
I liked her but the sweating gentleman was clearly of low intelligence and hence low worth. She clearly knew how to hold her own. I sat up to observe this woman give her so-called soul mate a master class on haggling. The hairs on my back tingled; she had long fingers with blunt tips perfect for stroking the contours of my body.
“Throw in Nefertiti and I’ll pay eight pounds.”
“No, no, no, no, no madam.”
“No, no, no, no, no. Understand. I am paying eight pounds.”
“Eleven pounds, madam. Please. I take English money.”
“We don’t have English money…”
“We do…” An idiot.
“…I will pay you eight Egyptian pounds.”
“Ten pounds.”
“Eight.”
“Darling.” I purred for this bright woman but my tail flicked in contempt for this panama hatted pillock.
“What is it?”
“That cat doesn’t like me. It’s looking at me.”
“Ten pounds.”
“No!”
“Nine pounds madam. No less.”
“It’s just a cat.” My darling there is no “just” as far as we are concerned.

She paid for the alabaster scarab and Nefertiti the sum of eight Egyptian pounds. The salesman shrugged as he gave in and took the money. Her pet tried to outstare me. “I see you are fascinated by The Emperor sir.”
“Is that what you call him?” The ignoramus asked. Using all my feline energy to make the man uncomfortable I was unaware that the woman noticed something.
“Is that for sale?”
“Everything is for sale, madam.”
“I don’t want everything. That thing rolled up behind The Emperor.”
“That belongs to The Emperor. It’s his bed.”
“Cat’s don’t have beds. This one seems perfectly content convalescing upon that cardboard box.” True but I wasn’t ready to give up my bed.
“I think we should go, sweetheart.”
“Don’t butter me up. How much do you want for that mat?”
“Madam. I’ll give you your money back and you can have the scarab and Nefertiti free of charge. You can have anything else that you desire. Take everything, except…”
She was strong and ordered the salesman to unravel my mat. Its intricate, beautiful design, texture and precious jewels transfixed them both. My green eyed glare no longer could imprison the soul of a complete fool. The salesman trembled cold sweat as he held my sleeping mat. She brushed her bottom lip with a left handed finger and contemplated.
“How much would you consider?”
The salesman shook his head.
“Twenty pounds?”
The salesman again, shook his head. A good man. She thought or rather she gave the impression of thinking. A cat can look deeply into a woman’s soul. With a man it is all surface.
“Seventy five pounds.”
“He’s shaking his head Victoria, let’s just go.”
I could sense that the salesman’s spirit was slowly breaking.
“Five thousand pounds. I will take your beloved cat’s bed for five…thousand…pounds.”

And there it was, straight from her lattice handbag, surprising her husband whom I worked out to be called Martin as well as the Egyptian who was not to sell what he was holding, was five thousand Egyptian pounds. I went cold and felt such despair that I never felt before. As the couple strolled away with my bedding I looked at the man who betrayed me. He wept and because he knew that it was a folly to say sorry the tears were unbearable.

By the light of the full moon all had their eyes fixated on an elderly crippled man kicking his feet above them as he hung outside a painted cinema advertising board. He was in physical agony but that was nothing in comparison to his shame. Such spectacle held no interest for me. I had an appointment to keep with Martin and Victoria.

II

Martin and Victoria managed to return to Surrey safely. Not without event, though. Victoria dabbed the cuts on her husband’s face. She wondered how they could still be painful three weeks after the event.
“Because he was evil.”
“A good job he is dead now.”
She carried on tending to the wounds below his right eye. “Don’t worry Martin. You saw the way I battered him with Nefertiti’s base.” Martin nodded. Even though his wife spent a lot of money on a mat nevertheless he did not want it anywhere near. He concluded that the bedding was cursed and had to be discarded. No. It had to be destroyed. Whilst his wife was out he would alight it in the log burner and increase the heat to its fullest possible maximum. Victoria continued to treat her husband’s wounds.

Monday morning and Martin was in bed, olive green and sickly with a Len Deighton novel for company. Victoria felt concerned and called their local general practitioner. She wanted to wait beside her beloved but he insisted with all the powers of persuasion he could muster that she should go to work and leave the front door open to offer the G.P. easy access. After that Martin was free to execute his plan.

With just enough time to kill before Dr. Lloyd arrived Martin got out of bed with great effort. He felt dizzy and clutched his left breast as he staggered to the top of the stairs. There he took three slow deep breaths and made an attempt to descend the stairs and head towards the living room. From the dining table Martin removed the mat that belonged to The Emperor and placed it in the log burner. He then filled it with firelighters, sticks and logs and lit it. To generate maximum heat he closed the door of the log burner. The flames roared furiously.

Martin’s eyes were illuminated by the flicker. A melody played over the scene. It was Victoria’s personal mobile phone which she had evidently left behind. Her husband got up from the living room carpet to look for it. The melody was emitting from Victoria’s lattice handbag which was hung on a dining chair. Martin unzipped the bag and pulled out a cat.

The Emperor swiped with his claws and Martin screamed as he fell to the carpet. He continued to scratch the sickly Martin, tearing off his pyjamas. He proceeded to flay him alive. Martin writhed on the floor red raw and hollered. The cat then removed his muscle area piece by piece. After that he worked on Martin’s innards and skeleton until what was left were a beating heart and a working brain. The Emperor feasted on both purring contentedly. When full he used his claws, fangs and his craftsmanship skills in fashioning out of Martin’s remains something of great beauty, value and above all function. When he had completed the work the cat sat on the mat.
© 2009 Clinton Morgan