Popov.

Popov Ch 11 Death's Duty

Chapter 11 Death’s Duty

Popov eyed the gold diamond encrusted chariot that sat in the courtyard with envy as the charioteer handed down the lean stooping figure in a ragged weathered brown cloak. The uniformed driver saluted and, giving Popov a smug look, remounted and picked up the reins of the two midnight gold eagles harnessed to the front. The two huge birds had fierce looking beaks and hard threatening eyes.

‘Do you like my transport? Wha, wha,’ the man had a nasal laugh. ‘A little outmoded these days I know, but what style eh?  I fly everywhere dear boy, tempus fugit as they say, eh what?’ The old man leaning on a scythe handed Popov his case and dismissed the winged chariot with a wave of his hand. The two birds spread their huge wings casting a shadow over Popov, who had to close his eyes against the force of the downdraught and when he opened them again the chariot had gone. Popov took the case and turned to lead the old man back into the house.

‘Is that brother of mine still a boring old stick in the mud? Eh? Eh?’ Chronos poked Popov in the back with the handle of the scythe. ‘Here, here look, tell you what, what. Want a new watch do you?’ Popov looked round. Chronos was opening the long trailing cloak he wore and was holding out one side of it. The red silk lining was strung with dangling watches.

‘Look, see here,’ Chronos beckoned Popov closer. He looked about and then selected a gold watch to hold out to Popov. ‘Rolex, not any of your old fakes, genuine. Can’t tell you how difficult these are to get hold of, rare as hen’s teeth old man. Tried to get my brother to have one but he says a sundial has always worked for him. I only carry the hourglass for appearances sake myself, tradition you know. Just you feel that, see how good it looks on your wrist, what?’ Chronos slipped the watch on Popov’s arm and did up the catch. ‘There, suits you my good fellow, and we’ll say no more about it, eh? Only two thousand shekels to you, my boy. You can pay me later.’ Chronos wrapped his coat about him once more.

‘Oh but I-’ Popov went to take the watch off but Chronos put a hand on his arm to stop him.

‘I said say no more about it old bean, pay me when you can, couple of days hence eh, what? Now where is that brother of mine?’ Chronos hobbled forward using the scythe as a walking stick and Popov trailed behind pulling Chronos’ wheeled suitcase and matching overnight bag.

Death sat at his desk with his head bent over a ledger and Chronos was lounging on a new red leather sofa when Popov entered the study after putting Chronos’ luggage in his room.

‘So brother dear I see you eventually succumbed and got an assistant, eh what?’ Without looking up Death replied.

‘I had no choice in the matter the Lord gave me an assistant.’

‘Well it must be your age, old boy. The Lord must think you can’t cope any more. After all he’s never had to give me an assistant. Eyesight going is it eh? Eh?’

‘My eyesight is fine, thank you,’ Death sounded as though he was speaking through gritted teeth. ‘But my workload increases as the number of people in the world increases. More people are passing over a once. The amount you have to do is consistent by comparison.’

‘Funny thing isn’t it old bean, that the only visitors you get, apart from me, are the recently deceased and they have no say in the matter. How are my nieces by the way? Don’t know Mors, old chap? When did they last come to see their dear papa eh? No, why would they? And whatever happened to that gang you used to hang around with? Got fed up with you just like that pretty little filly of a wife did, eh? What?’

 Death slammed the ledger shut and stood up.

‘Well you have no visitors at all brother dear because no one has the time for you. Now I have to go on my rounds, Popov will get you anything you want.’ Death seized his scythe and stalked out.

‘OooOh, touchy, touchy,’ Chronos said to Popov as the door slammed shut. ‘Always was like that even when we were kids. I think he’s a bit jealous ‘cause I got a better job than him, you know sibling rivalry and all that. Eh what? No chance of a little snifter I suppose is there? I feel decidedly parched after all that travelling.’

‘Ah, er, um, that is-’

‘Don’t tell me that little brother of mine told you not to let me have anything stronger than carrot juice eh? What? Positively typical of him I assure you, but such a drag eh, what? Don’t you find him just the tiniest bit dull? Do be a sport, there’s a good man and get me a shot of something. Last request of a dying man and all that. After all I will be underage for the next two months you know, wha, wha. Tell you what, I know he hides the best stuff up on the fourth shelf behind the Death duty register 1-1000 AD unabridged. Big green hide bound volume, just beside Fordyce’s sermons. Do be a sport.’

Popov lifted down the huge book and saw a tall bottle full of dark tawny liquid behind it. Soon he and Chronos were sat beside the fire each swirling syrupy rich port around in Death’s best cut crystal glasses.

‘I don’t suppose my dear brother ever told you anything about me did he?’ Chronos said and Popov shook his head. ‘Thought not, considers me the black sheep he does, wha, wha, wha. Ever heard about his old chums have you? No? Oh, yes, he gives the impression of being holier than thou these days, but let me tell you he was quite the wild child in his youth. Tearing around the place, terrorising the world, riding over the garden of Eden, flattening the daffodils and giving the Lord quite a few headaches. You stick with me, you’ll not just have a good time young fellow me lad, you’ll have quality time. I can tell you things about old stiff necked Azreal you never dreamed.’

‘Who?’

‘Don’t tell me you don’t even know his full name yet?’ Chronos sat up. ‘Azreal, Holler, Mors, Fatal Death. Used to give me hours of fun that Holler did, can’t think why ever he was called that, but there you are. Mostly I just called him Coffin Sniffer. As for his friends, three of them there were, a guy called Pestilence-’

‘I’ve met him,’ Popov put in.

‘Have you, well I dare say he’s slowed down a bit since I knew him, but he was one of the worst. It was all those flies that buzzed around him that used to put me off. You’d think a body would wash every now and again. Stinky pest we used to call him, wha, wha, wha. Then there was that great fat chap, what was he called, oh yes, Famine that was it. Famine! What a laugh, if there was a famine it was only because he caused it. That guy would eat anything and everything. If you ever saw him without a pastry in his hand it was because he was asleep and had dropped it. Yes, old Fatty Famine. Then there was War, lives in Valhalla, now he was a laugh, certainly could sink a few pints back then. Drink me under the table any day. But you didn’t want to mess with him, oh no. Always quick to swing a punch he was. Stupid as a suet dumpling, no brains whatsoever and a nose and ears like cauliflowers. Woody we all called him and he could never work out why, had us in stitches it did. Thick as two short planks, don’t you know? What a gang – Sniffer, Stinky, Woody and Fatty. Seen anything of them around recently?’ Popov shook his head.

‘No, thought not. Any chance of something to eat is there old chap? All that talk of famine has made me ravenous, what. I could just fancy something light, a couple of coddle eggs on toast perhaps. Go down a treat that would.’ Popov got up. ‘Top man, oh, and while you’re there do me a T bone steak, medium rare with a few sausages; a bit of liver, some mushrooms; a baked potato smothered in melted butter; then toss on a few onion rings and don’t forget the finishing touch, a dob of mayo. No salad though, none of that healthy stuff. I’ll soon be on a diet of pureed veggies and drinking milk with no choice in the matter. And let’s have it all washed down with a nice stein of cold beer. Then, if you’re not too busy, see if you can’t rustle up a spot of apple pie and custard to follow, what. Now that would hit the mark just spiffingly. Bank up the fire a bit there’s a good fellow and then go to it old man.’ Chronos stretched his feet towards the fender and put his chin down on his chest as if he was going to sleep. Popov loaded the fire with logs and trotted off to the kitchens, chuckling to himself about the informative chats he saw ahead during the coming week.