He gave Susan the stem look of one who, if it was not for the fact that the  world needed  him, would  even  now be  tiring of painting naked  young ladies on some tropical island somewhere.

     ' What happens to the teeth?' said Susan.

     He blinked  at  her.  A bully, thought  Susan. A very small, weak, very dull bully,  who  doesn't manage any real bullying  because  there's  hardly anyone  smaller  and weaker than him, so he just makes everyone's lives just that little bit more difficult ...

     'What sort of question is that?' he managed, in the face of her stare.

     'You never  wondered?' said Susan, and added  to herself, I didn't. Did anyone?

     'Well, 's not my job, I just-'

     'Oh, yes. You said,' said Susan. 'Thank you. You've been very  helpful. Thank you very much.'

     The man stared at her, and then turned and ran down the stairs.

     'Drat,' said Susan.

     'That's a very unusual swearword,' said the oh god nervously.

     'It's so easy,'  said  Susan. 'If I want to, I can find anybody. It's a family trait.'

     'Oh. Good.'

     'No. Have you any idea how hard it is to be normal? The things you have to  remember? How to go  to sleep? How to forget  things? What doorknobs are for?'

     Why ask him, she thought, as she looked at his shocked face. All that's normal for him is remembering to throw up what someone else drank.

     'Oh, come on,' she said, and hurried towards the stairs.

     It was so easy to slip into immortality, to ride the  horse,  to  know everything.  And every time  you  did, it brought closer the day when you could never get off and never forget.

     Death was hereditary.

     You got it from your ancestors.

     'Where are we going now?' said the oh god.

     'Down to the YMPA,' said Susan.

     The old  man in  the  hovel looked uncertainly at  the  feast spread in front of him. He sat on his stool as curled up on himself  as  a spider in a flame.

     'I'd got a bit of a mess of beans cooking,' he mumbled, looking at  his visitors through filmy eyes.

     'Good  heavens, you  can't  eat  beans at Hogswatch,', said  the  king, smiling hugely.  'That's terribly unlucky,  eating  beans  at Hogswatch.  My word, yes!'

     'Di'nt know that,' the old man  said, looking down  desperately at  his lap.

     'We've brought you this magnificent spread. Don't you think so?'

     'I bet you're incredibly grateful for it, too,' said the page, sharply.

     'Yes, well, o' course, it's  very  kind of you gennelmen,' said the old man, in a  voice the  size of a mouse. He blinked,  uncertain of  what to do next.

     'The turkey's  hardly been  touched, still plenty of meat on  it,' said the king. 'And do have some

     of this cracking good widgeon stuffed with swan's liver.'

     '...only I'm partial to a bowl  of beans and I've  never been beholden to no one nor nobody,' the old man said, still staring at his lap.

     'Good heavens, man, you  don't need to worry about that,' said the king heartily. 'It's Hogswatch! I was only just now looking out of the window and I  saw  you plodding through the snow and  I  said to young  Jermain here, I said, `Who's that chappie?" and he said, "Oh, he's some  peasant  fellow who lives up by the forest," and I said, "Well, I couldn't eat another thing and it's Hogswatch, after all," and so we just bundled everything up and here we are!'

     'And  I expect  you're pathetically thankful,' said the page. 'I expect we've brought a ray of light into your dark tunnel of a life, hmm?'

     ' ...yes, well, o'  course, only I'd been savin' 'em for weeks, see, and there's some bakin' potatoes under the fire, I found  'em in the  cellar 'n' the mice'd hardly touched 'em.' The old man never raised  his eyes from knee level. 'W our dad brought me up never to ask for ...'

     'Listen,' said the king, raising his voice a little, 'I've walked miles tonight and I bet you've never seen food like this in your whole life, eh?'

     Tears of humiliated embarrassment were rolling down the old man's face.

     ' ...well, I'm sure it's very kind of you fine  gennelmen but I ain't sure I knows how to eat swans and suchlike, but if you  want a bit o' my beans you've  only got to say ...'

     'Let me make myself  absolutely clear,' said the king sharply. 'This is some genuine Hogswatch charity,  d'you understand? And  we're  going to  sit here  and  watch  the  smile  on  your  grubby  but  honest  face,  is  that understood?'

     'And what do you say to the good king?' the page prompted.

     The peasant hung his head.

     ' 'nk you.'

     'Right,' said the king, sitting back. 'Now, pick up your fork ...'

     The  door burst open.  An indistinct  figure strode into the room, snow swirling around it in a cloud.

     WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?

     The page  started  to stand up, drawing  his sword. He never worked out how the other  figure could have  got behind him, but there it was, pressing him gently down again.

     'Hello, son,  my name is Albert,' said a voice  by his  ear. 'Why don't you put that sword back very slowly? People might get hurt.'

     A finger prodded the king, who had been too shocked to move.

WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING, SIRE?

     The king tried to focus on the figure.  There  was an impression of red and white, but black, too.

     To Albert's secret amazement, the man  managed to get to  his feet  and draw himself up as regally as he could.

     'What is  going on here,  whoever you are, is some  fine old  Hogswatch charity! And who ...'

     NO, IT'S NOT.

     'What? How dare you ...'

WERE YOU HERE LAST MONTH? WILL YOU  BE HERE NEXT WEEK? NO.  BUT TONIGHT YOU WANTED TO FEEL ALL WARM INSIDE. TONIGHT YOU WILL WANT THEM  TO SAY: WHAT A GOOD KING HE IS.

     'Oh, no, he's going too far again...' muttered Albert under  his  breath. He pushed the page down again.  "No, you stay still, sonny. Else you'll just be a paragraph.'

     'Whatever it is, it's more than he's  got!' snapped the king. 'And  all we've had from him is ingratitude ...'

     YES, THAT DOES SPOIL IT, DOESN'T IT? Death leaned forward. GO AWAY.

     To the kings's own surprise his body took over  and marched him out  of the door.

     Albert patted the page on the shoulder. 'And you can run along too,' he said.

     '... I didn't mean to go upsetting anyone,  its just that I never asked no one for nothing ...' mumbled the old man, in a small humble world of his own, his hands tangling themselves together out of nervousness.

     'Best if you leave this one  to  me, master,  if you don't mind,'  said Albert.  'I'll  be back in  just  a tick.' Loose ends, he thought, that's my job. Tying up loose ends. The master never thinks things through.

     He caught up with the king outside.

     'Ah, there  you are,  your sire,' he said.  'Just before  you go, won't keep you a minute, just a minor  point ...' Albert leaned dose to the stunned monarch. 'If anyone was  thinking  about  making a mistake, you  know,  like maybe sending the guards down here tomorrow,  tipping the old man out of his hovel, chuckin' him in prison, anything like that ... werrlll ... that's the kind of mistake he ought to treasure on account of it being the last mistake he'll ever make. A word to  the wise men, right?' He  tapped the side of his nose conspiratorially. 'Happy Hogswatch.'

     Then he hurried back into the hovel.

     The feast  had vanished. The old  man was  looking blearily at the bare table.

     HALF-EATEN LEAVINGS, said Death.  WE  COULD  CERTAINLY DO  BETTER  THAN THIS. He reached into the sack.

     Albert grabbed his arm before he could withdraw his hand.