'Twas Hogswatch Night with the Wizards...

I had to write sometrhing as a psotscript to "Pere Porcher" and it has to be now... next week would be too late. Here it is with a happy Hogswatch had by all, except perhaps by Mrs Anaglypta Huggs...

This was typed up in a hurry to get it out there as a Hogswatch present. There will be typos. Please make allowances...

REVISION: I have added in further referents to a Certain Christmas Song, which when I just heard it on the radio was a face-forehead-palm-slap moment of "How could I have missed THAT?" See if you can spot it...

Johanna had dressed with care for her dinner date at the University that night. Rather (after Ponder had eventually left to report in to Arch -Chancellor Ridcully), she had allowed herself to be dressed by her friends and colleagues. She had to grudgingly accept the result was not bad at all: a tightly laced bustier top in brown satin over white puffed sleeves, and a full grey-white dress with fashionable button-boots. Where Ponder was concerned, she suspected a conspiracy. She smiled, remembering the afternoon. Ponder had left looking as if he was walking on air. A couple of Raven House senior girls who were staying on for the hols had frowned at this. Even on a short walk between Filigree Street and the university, nobody with any sense drifted along in a self-absorbed blissful trance, even if there was a very good reason for Ponder to be blissful.

"Perhaps we should follow him, Miss? Discreetly, I mean. So he doesn't get into trouble."

The girls were sincerely concerned. Johanna smiled with gratitude. "Please. I would be thenkful. You cen both cell this a bodyguarding essignment for special merit points."

The girls, both on the second year to the Black, went off to fulfil their duty. One turned and said "Oh, Miss? We think it's really sweet. We wish you every happiness!"

"Thenk you." Johanna said, moved. She knew her pupils would move silently and inobtrusively and Ponder would never even notice they were there. She'd taught them, after all. She frowned: it might be useful if she taught Ponder a few tricks. She didn't want to lose him, not now, not after that glorious afternoon...

Fighting off an attack of wholly unaccustomed warm fuzzies, she waited for Alice and Gillian, sensing what was coming next.

And now she was at the University, her colleagues having assured her, with absolutely straight faces, that there was no reason for her to hurry back early. Her residual House functions would be covered, don't worry about that, now off you go and have a jolly good time!

The Great Hall of the University was packed, in direct contrast to the Guild of Assassins at this time of year. No wizard or student wizard wanted to miss a meal, and certainly not a meal of this magnitude. She had caused a minor stir walking in, arm-in-arm with Ponder Stibbons, but was very relieved she was not the only woman present.

And she reflected a distinct pecking order applied. Student Wizards were on the tables furthest from the kitchens, out towards the back of the hall. Graduate wizards, ascending in level and seniority, occupied those tables in the middle of the hall, the most senior Wizards taking the seats nearest to the high Table and, coincidentally, nearer to the kitchen doors. With an eye conditioned by mealtimes at the Assassins School, she recognised the tables occupied eight distinct lines, each corresponding to one of the Eight Orders of Wizardry. Just like the House system, she thought, only they don't call them houses here.

Ponder, nominally a member of The Illuminated Brethren of Midnight (1), had explained about the Orders. She gathered they were nowhere near as powerful as they had been in the old days – apparently some sort of cataclysm or crisis had happened, which wizards were reluctant to talk about, which had resulted in the power of the Orders being severely truncated. This had led to a power vacuum, with none of the weakened Orders being able to seize the Arch-Chancellor's Hat for itself. A truce had been declared and the eight Heads had scoured the records looking for a figurehead Arch-Chancellor, one who might last just long enough to allow the Orders to lick their wounds and rebuild strength. They had looked for a weak, ineffectual, pushover. By an incredible error of judgement, they had actually got Mustrum Ridcully.

And he had been there ever since.

And he was there now, presiding over High Table, the raised dais where the Faculty, the most senior Wizards, dined in splendour, nearest of all to the kitchens and therefore best placed to be served first. Johanna was pleasantly pleased to discover Ponder Stibbons had a place here, despite his youth. It meant that for the evening, she was in a peer group with some of the most powerful people in the City – the wizards' guests included Sir Harry and Lady King, Lord and Lady Venturi, Mrs Proust, (who Johanna knew by reputation to be the Witch whose steading was the whole city), Moist von Lipwig the Postmaster, and his undeclared fiancee Adora Belle Dearheart. And wasn't that...

"And I say to you, Dean!" bellowed a familiar voice. "Yes, we blasted well ARE having women on the High Table tonight and that is by MY say-so! I do apologise, ladies, he gets these moods sometimes And besides, there is nothing in the Lore that prevents a Wizard from paying court to a young woman – well, she may also be a lady rich in experience – that he happens to find attractive!"

Ridcully nodded to the University's normally formidable housekeeper Mrs Whitlow, who seemed to be out of place at the High Table. An elderly Wizard with grey hair and beard fading to white was paying earnest attention to her.

"And besides, this is our gift to our wonderful Mrs Whitlow, in token thanks for her unstintin' service throughout the year, and a mark of how much we appreciate her!"

Mrs Whitlow blushed slightly and waved a self-deprecating hand. A voice mumbled Some of us take appreciation to new levels, don't we, Runes?

"Pack it in, Dean." Ridcully said. Then he noticed Ponder and Johanna.

"Ah, lad!" he boomed. He paid Ponder scant attention. "Johanna! M'Dear! Might I say you are looking lovely tonight? Almost didn't recognise you with different clothes on!"

"I'm so gled you phrased it thet wey, Erch-Chencellor." Johanna said, allowing Ridcully to take her arm and lead her to her place. Ponder, disregarded for the moment, followed. And so Hogswatch Eve Dinner commenced at the University, Ponder squirming inside and dreading what embarrassing gaffes his colleagues would make. Johanna, meanwhile, was quietly looking forward to making observations about a different sort of hierarchical social animal. She wondered if the Wizard group dynamic most resembled meercats, lions, hyenas, chimpanzees, or ants. Going by the size of them, bewilderbeeste or hippos, probably.

Back at the Guild of Assassins, a group of staff members had gathered in Alice Band's quarters and were having a social drink. Alice and Jocasta, bathed, clean and in smart casual clothes, would later that evening be having a light dinner and a social drink with Jocasta's family. Their walk back to the Guild would take in The Temple of Blind Io, where her adoptive uncle, Hughnon Ridcully, would be leading a midnight carol service. Alice hoped for a chat with Uncle Hughnon concerning Ponder Stibbons' observation that she could learn to channel the God-Consciousness. She wanted to know, beforehand, if there were any potential drawbacks.

Joan Sanderson-Reeves had excused herself to go for her dinner-date with a male admirer. As everyone knew it was Grune Nivor, she had been waved off with thanks and good wishes. Davinia Bellamy had hung on for just long enough to see that Johanna Smith-Rhodes, in her opinion, was properly dressed and presentable for a night out with her young chap. Then she had gone, for family time with her husband and sons.

This left Alice Band, Jocasta Wiggs, Gillian Lansbury and miss Pretty Butterfly. Lady T'Malia, the most senior woman teacher in the School, had made herstately and unhurried way over to join her female staff for a drink and thank them for their dedicated work. Emmanuelle Lapoignard Les Deux-Epées should have joined them, but right now, quite audibly, she was attending to her husband's needs.

It was an elephant-in-the-room moment. Everyone could hear it, but nobody wanted to talk about it. Alice exchanged a moment of eye-contact with Jocasta. It said at least we shut the bedroom window!

"So this is what you've had to put up with... all week?" Alice asked.

T'Malia, Butterfly and Gillian all nodded, wearily.

"You could laugh about it at first." T'Malia remarked. "But to be frank, my dear, it's getting to be a bit of a bore now!"

Butterfly sighed. "The great philosopher Ly Tin Wheedle, he has said that the excessive noise of those engaged in Opening The Jade Gate with the Peerless Pestle can become as an unwelcome sensation in the fundament, should it go on for too long."

There was a pause as the others untangled the Agatean metaphors.

"Jade Gate." mused T'Malia. "Now there's one I've never come across before."

Alice wasn't sure; in her experience she'd never seen an irridescent slightly translucent green one before. (2)

"Well, I'm blowed if I'm going knocking on her door while she's... you know." T'Malia went on. "I mean, what do you say?"

"Somebody has to send her a message..." mused Jocasta Wiggs.

A light went on in Alice's brain. She fumbled in a draw, found a pad of headed Guild writing paper, and scribbled a short message. She showed it to everyone, and received approval. Then she wrapped it tightly around an arrow and tied it in place.

"I hope I shall not be forced, with exceeding reluctance, to intervene at this point." said lady T'Malia, as Alice nocked her bow. There was a brief technical discussion at the window.

Two hundred yards, do you think?

Slight Hubwards wind, say force three..

It's a diagonal shot across the yard, dropping a storey... the window's open...

Think of it as like aiming for the outer at three hundred...

The bed's situated about six yards back from the windowsill... I've seen the inside of her room...

Remember Zen breathing, Alice-san. You must be both the archer and the arrow and clear your mind of all thought...

T'Malia sighed and poured herself another drink.

There was the zing of an arrow. After a short pause, there was a distant Thunkkk! of an arrow hitting wood. Another silent pause after that, there was the sound of a window being abruptly closed. Firmly closed. And after that, silence.

Alice basked in congratulation and admiration.

Her note had simply read

Cut out the noise or close the bloody window.

Your dear friend

Alice Band.

T'Malia smiled. She knew she had chosen well in Alice.

"I shall overlook any consequential damage to Guild property, my dear." she said. After all, it is Hogswatch!" And I shall sleep soundly in my bed tonight, she added to herself.

Lady T'Malia raised a glass.

"Cheers, my dears!" she proclaimed.

At the University, things were going very convivally. Sir Harry King was, in his own words, "dead chuffed" to have been invited to such a gathering of the great and good. Lady King was visibly enjoying herself.

"Sam Vimes suggested it." Ridcully said, cheerfully. He and Sir Harry were now on the Old Peculiar in big flagons and discovering common ground. "he said you'd get on here a treat. And the least we can do, anyway, seeing as the Magical Waste Recycling Facility is up and running safely."

"You gave me one of your wizards to manage and advise." Sir Harry said, cheerfully." And students to do the work. And in any case, it's just another sort of waste product that needs more careful handling."

"You're welcome, Harry! Glad to hear the work experience programme's workin' out! Gets young students out doing something useful, and it teaches 'em not to mess with magic!" said Ridcully. He turned to Johanna.

"Got the idea from you people, m'dear. It ain't just young Assassins who need to have over-confidence knocked out of 'em! We get student wizards too, who get cocky and complacent and take risks. The wrong sort of risks. We round 'em up and send 'em to Harry King on work experience, defusing old spells and making old wild magic safe. Brings 'em on a treat!"

"And I pay 'em." Harry said. Same rate as me gnolls and goblins, seeing as they're not experienced labourers. They work hard for me, they get some beer money at the end of the day. You can't say fairer than that, can you?"

Johanna gleaned that Sir Harry and the University had entered into a mutually co-operative arrangement to strip and safely store the residual magic in the university's waste and were sharing the profits, fifty-fifty. Ponder had had a hand in setting this up.

"Very clever man, your young lad, miss." Sir Harry said to her. "By the way, all the crap I pick up at the Zoo sells like hot cakes. Well, like hot something, anyway. Can't get enough of it!"

Johanna enjoyed seeing the more well-bred people at the table blanch slightly. Even if it wasn't her preferred topic of dinned conversation.

"Which reminds me." Ridcully said, thoughtfully. "I may need to call on yer professional services in the new year, me dear. Don't know if Stibbons has already said it to you, but we need a pest control squad down in our cellars. Plague of them damn marmalade things in the pipes. Too short to hunt, to small to eat and no use to man or beast."

"That's marmosets, sir." Ponder said, helpfully.

"Marmosets, marmalades. Damn tiny mon..." He paused, as the Librarian looked up from his end of the table. "They are monkeys, aren't they?"

Johanna smiled. A delicious picture of several hundred six-inch tall apes wanting to express dissent at being called monkeys passed through the screen of her inner vision. It would be like being worked over by simian Feegles.

"They are monkeys, sir. It is perfectly safe to cell them thet." she reassured him.

"Damn good! And we got some of those yes-yes brutes down there too!"

"Aye-Ayes, sir." Ponder corrected him again. Ridcully glared at him.

"Whatever they are, they're a damn nuisance! Little blighters wander around, free as you like, scared of nothing, get everywhere. New woman running the Night kitchen nearly gave in her notice when these hairy little fellas with the big eyes shambled into her kitchen and started eating things. She thought they was foul ghouls from the depths of the earth!"

"Which around here is not an unreasonable supposition." murmured another Wizard, who had been introduced to Johanna as the Senior Wrangler.

"Anyway, she thought they was ghouls or goblins or little orcs, walking into her kitchen, bold as you please, and eatin' stuff."

"Funny how Glenda Sugarbean never saw them." observed the Wrangler.

"Ha! Glenda? The little buggers wouldn't have dared!" Ridcully exclaimed.

Johanna smiled.

"The aye-aye is indeed en enimel, Arch-chencellor." she said. "It is a primate, elthough a lowly one. They could be celled a monkey, elthough they ere a primitive one, end share many cherecteristics with rodents. In their native hebitet, they ere renowned for heving no fear of people, end they will heppily welk into a kitchen end gorge on whetever tekes their fency. They are omnivores."

"You're tellin' me! And can I rely on you to flush 'em out?"

"I will bring a squed of good students from the Guild, sir. It will help their education to stelk end humanely trep these creatures! And perheps you are experiencing a population explosion? In those circumstences, enimels spread out to seek new territory. Those that hev discovered your night kitchen will seek to colonise it for themselves."

Ridcully nodded.

You move in, get the lot, cart 'em orf to your Zoo. Excellent!"

Lady King asked, curiously, "You're from Howondaland, dear? Do they celebrate Hogswatch there? Do they know it's Hogswatch time? At all?"

"Oh, we certainly do!" Johanna reassured her. "My people came from Sto Kerrig hundreds of years ago. They brought Central Continent Gods end customs with them. We hev, for instance, SchwarzPieter, the herald of the Sto Kerrig Hogswetch. We sing Hogswetch carols..."

I bet "I'm Dreaming of a White Hogswatch" is an all-time favourite, then! a voice muttered.

She paused and thought of her family, her parents and brothers and sisters, thousands of miles away in Howondaland. Irrelevently, a memory arose of the couple of acres of veldt where her father had been completely unable to persuade anything to grow, apart from thornbush and scrub. Vater had been planning to run an irrigation channel down there, to where nothing ever grew and no rain or river yet flowed. she wondered if he'd managed it. It would be summer at home, yet, she reflected, even under the burning Howondalandian sun, people still exchanged Hogswatch cards with snow and frost on them. A folk-memory of old Sto Kerrig? She had seen snow and ice for the first time, up close and personal, on her first winter in Ankh-Morpork. It had come as a real shock to her system.

Johanna giggled. "Mister Dean, I remember my father singing thet one on Hogswetch Eve!" she said. "It is a fond memory!"

"That shut you up, Dean!" Ridcully observed.

Johanna remembered...

Stille nag, heilige nag,
oor die veldt, lief en sag,
klink die lied van die engelekoor.
eers deur herders, dan verder gehoor
Juig, die Redder is daar!
Juig, die Redder is daar!

She pulled up, realising she had been humming the hymn.

"Silent Night, dear? That's nice!" said Lady King.

"Which reminds me..." Ridcully said. A University Bledlow had come to the High Table and was whispering to him.

"Okay, we'd better get these damn people over and done with. The quicker the better."

He stood up and started banging on the table and bellowing for silence. The best part of a thousand wizards stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

"Listen to me, you fellows!" he roared. "I don't bloody well like this next bit any more than you will, but show a little Hogswatch charity and put up with..."

He paused, as a motley of twenty or thirty people came in, most bedecked in jolly bright scarves and little wooly hats which in other circumstances would have been described as "silly". Some carried lanterns on long poles and all carried musical scores. Ridcully smoothly changed tack.

"Fellows, they have kindly come here tonight to entertain us and lead the singing of traditional Hogswatch carols. Sing up, you men, and dig deeply into your pockets for any small coin you have, as I'm told it's to help the more respectable class of Beggar! May I introduce Mrs Anagylpta Huggs and her Hogswatch Choral Group, ably supported by..." Ridcully consulted a note from up his sleeve, "The band of the Omnian Army of Salvation!"

Ponder grimaced. Johanna sighed. They had both heard of Anaglypta Huggs, a woman who had taken it upon herself to bowdlerize Hogswatch hymns and strip out all the distasteful and dirty aspects from the lyrics. Often people did not even realise the words were obscene until Anaglypta Huggs had pointed this out, often at great length. Johanna watched as Mrs Huggs, long, thin, angular and full of quivering purpose, strode forward to lead the singing. It was all oddly reminiscent of Estrella Partleigh, of the Campaign for Equal Heights. With a side-serving of Maccalariat.

Wizards sang along in a half-hearted sort of way. Singing picked up when one came along that everyone recognised, but Mrs Huggs indignantly screamed for them to stop, they were singing the wrong words!

And then Ridcully had had enough.

As a familiar tune came round that had been given bland, vanilla, words, he stood up, climbed on the table, and used his mighty quart-sized beer flagon to conduct the singing. This was quaffing. Done by a master of the art. It was theatre.

At twelve o'clock on Hogswatch Eve, she tiptoed up the stairs;
She stood beneath the mistletoe and combed her silken hair;
The Hogfather slipped down her flue and caught her unawares -
And this is what she said!

Ohhhhhhhh !

A thousand wizards and their guests – and the University waiting staff – started to sing a well-loved favourite. Mrs Huggs' mouth opened and closed in alarm, but was lost among an increasing swell of male voices.

Oh, Hogfather do not touch me, Oh, Hogfather do not touch me ,
Oh, Hogfather do not touch me, as she stood beneath the mistletoe!

"Oh my name is the Hogfather" he informed her as he met her;
She said "Good grief, it's seven years since I sent you a letter!"
He said "I can't stand little girls, BIGGER ONES ARE BETTER!"
And this is what she said!

Ohhhhhhhh !

Oh, Hogfather do not touch me, Oh, Hogfather do not touch me ,
Oh, Hogfather do not touch me, as she stood beneath the mistletoe!

Mrs Huggs was going red with rage and embarrassment now. Ridcully carried on conducting the singing, his voice still audible over the impromptu choir:

Oh Hogfather do not touch …, Oh Hogfather do not touch …
Oh Hogfather do not touch …, as she stood beneath the mistletoe!

Ridcully called for more beer. The Omnian Army of Salvation Band was making the best of it and playing the tune.

Oh Hogfather do not …, Oh Hogfather do not …
Oh Hogfather do not …, as she stood beneath the mistletoe!

Oh Hogfather, do …, Oh, Hogfather, do …
Oh, Hogfather, do…, as she stood beneath the mistletoe!

oh, Hogfather …!, Oh, Hogfather …!, Oh, Hogfather…!
As she stood beneath the mistletoe!

Father …, Father …, FATHER…!
As she stood beneath the mistletoe!

Finally, full of fury and humiliation, Mrs Huggs shepherded her choir out.

Faaa …, Faaa …, FAAA …!
As she stood beneath the mistletoe!

The wizards ' choir built up to the trimphant coda.

He's a most immoral Hogfather, a most immoral Hogfather!
A most immoral Hogfather! , As she stood beneath the mistletoe... (3)

Then there was wide applause and a spontaneous standing ovation. Sensing an opportunity, several bandsmen's hats started to circulate and rapidly filled with small coin. Ridcully called for beer for the band. It was provided.

The incredibly ugly city witch, Mrs Proust, nudged Johanna and cackled.

"Last time Gytha Ogg was here near Hogswatch, she took time to tell young Annie there all about the symbolism of misteltoe and what them little white berries stood for(4)." she said, conversationally. "Wouldn't listen. Self-opinionated little madam, in my opinion."

Johanna had heard about the Lancre witches. She smiled appreciatively.

"When you consider some of the things what has gone on in this hall, singing a mucky song comes a long way down the list of sins, to my way of thinking. You have to hand it to Ridcully, he's turned this place around from what it was!"

Johanna, appreciatively, listened to the tale of the Great Magical Duel that had taken place almost on this spot between Granny Weatherwax and a past Arch-chancellor.

"Esme struck a blow for all witches on that day." Mrs Proust said, wistfully. "They'd not have thought to invite a witch to their beanfeast otherwise. And that word beanfeast is right out of Hogswatch tradition..."

A lot later that night, Johanna and Ponder were snuggled close in his bed. She reflected that one phase of her life was over, and another one was just about to begin. It would have Ponder Stibbons in it. It felt good.

"Heppy Hogswetch, Ponder." she whispered, content.

"hmmwlth" Ponder mumbled. He had a smile on his face.

She smiled.

And across the city, in another bed,

"Happy Hogswatch, Alice."

"happy Hogswatch, Cass!"

Emmanuelle frowned, and decided to leave the arrow firmly embedded in the woodwork at the end of the bed-frame as a tribute to Alice Band's often lethal accuracy with a hunting bow. She knew it had been a friendly message and that there wasn't a contract on her: Alice was not one to miss with an arrow. She couldn't pull it out, in any case, as it was embedded too deep. She made the best of things, and hung a holly-and-mistletoe wreath on it. If alice knocked on the door asking for her arrow back, and Emmanuelle would not put it past her, they'd have words. But until then, there was Maurice, who was nervously asking if this sort of thing happens a lot around here.

"Je reviendra au lit, mon amour!" she said, soothingly.

In its way, it was also a Happy Hogswatch.

And a Happy Hogswatch was had by all.

And this, I think, ends it... two or three years after writing Chapter One..

(1) The illuminated Brothers of Midnight, in the beginnings, had taught the dark arts of moving invisibly and inobtrusively. For a long time, nothing moved more invisibly or inobtrusively than Ponder Stibbons... while the Orders had diminished in importance, garduate wizards still joined, or were invited to join. Think of Freemasonry. It's just like that.

(2) Bar-thing Igor at Biers, hearing lunchtime strippers were going down a bomb in other pubs, thought long and hard about how this applied to his bar. He eventually came up with publicity for Dead Girls! It didn't catch on. A zombie stripper might have shown Alice Band a thing or two...

(3) As performed with suitable adjustments for Roundworld, by prankster comedians the Goodies. (Tim Brooke-Taylor, Graeme Garden, and Bill Oddie) It was a hit Christmas record in the late 1970's and should be available on you-Tube.

(4) Since you ask, the white berries on mistletoe celebrate, and act as a spell to ensure, fertility in the coming year. Nanny Ogg would surely have remarked on their being the same colour as male semen, and that in the old days, people did not just kiss under themistletoe. It was best employed pinned up over the bed, but securely, mind you, so it didn't fall off halfway through and put prickles up someone's bum, which kind of tends to cramp his styple, mnow what I mean, hey? All accompanied with a knowing dirty cackle, an elbow in the ribs, and "Do you have any children yet, Mrs Huggs? No? I've got fifteen, so if you need any hints or anything explainin'..."