It was Christmas time in Cruxonia.
And Phlebas, the Lord Chancellor of Cruxonia, was in a bit of a lather.
What should he give King Gladness as a Christmas present?
It was a question which required a great deal of careful thought. If one gave King Gladness a present that he didn’t like, one would be crucified. If one gave him no present, one would be crucified. If one gave him a present that he liked a bit, one might only be thrashed. But the only way to really enjoy Christmas as a member of the Cruxonia Court was to give King Gladness a present which he loved.
Never was a King less aptly named than King Gladness. A more miserable sod would be difficult to imagine.
King Gladness was already on his sixth wife, Malins. Queen Thessela, last year, had given him a pair of Mr Grumpy socks. It had taken her three days to die, naked and screaming, on Tower Hill.
Before her, Queen Messaline, Queen Eulalia, Queen Siss and Queen Barb had all met similar fates, although to be fair, Queen Barb had presented herself to King Gladness as a crucified Queen, a gift which had quite pleased him, but not so much that he’d had her taken down.
Phlebas was the seventeenth Lord Chancellor. King Gladness had reigned for sixteen years. Things did not look promising.
Phlebas did not especially want to be crucified for Christmas. For one thing, it was cold at this time of year, and Phlebas loathed being cold. For another, it looked as if crucifixion hurt rather a lot, and Phlebas had a very strong aversion to pain.
But the main reason that Phlebas wished to avoid crucifixion was that he fancied the pants off the King’s daughter, Princess Marcella. Being crucified would rather put the kibosh on his chances of marrying her. Though it would avoid the need to ask the King for her hand in marriage, an interview which would probably also end in crucifixion. Mind you, if the King found out that they’d been shagging throughout Advent, he’d probably castrate Phlebas, flick his eyeballs out with a penknife, and then crucify him. Princess Marcella and Phlebas were young, and in love. Well, Phlebas was in love with her, she may possibly have been swayed by the fact that Phlebas was the richest man in Cruxonia after the King himself. But all the money in the world makes no difference if one’s only practical possessions are two bits of timber and four nails.
Hmmm. No good buying the King a cricket bat. Cruxonia had been thrashed 4-1 in the test series against Gruffleland, so the king had gone off cricket. Cruxonia weren’t likely to do much better in the next series, either, given that the whole team had been crucified.
So Phlebas thought and thought. And then he had an idea….
The great day dawned. The bells rang out throughout Cruxonia, snow had fallen overnight, everyone was filled with festive cheer. Even the crucified on Tower Hill had been decorated with Santa hats and tinsel, which made them feel a little bit better, although the snow was a bit of a bummer.
The strategically placed baubles on the former Minister of Education caused widespread hilarity, such that he was almost forgiven for the nation’s exam results published on Christmas Eve. Almost.
So King Gladness sat on his throne in his castle, receiving presents.
Queen Malins presented a pair of gold cuff-links in the shape of a crucified woman. These delighted King Gladness, despite the fact that he already had thirty-three other pairs. A King can’t have too many crux-girl cuff-links. Besides, he was still fond of Queen Malins, who had other attributes besides cuff-links keeping her in the King’s good books. So the present giving got off to a good start, and Phlebas cheered up a bit.
But Primus Pilus, the Prime Minister, presented a case of premium quality Shiraz. He was soon sporting tinsel and baubles, and not much else. The King preferred Pinot Noir. Anyway, His Majesty was sick and tired of trying to get his tongue around ‘Primus Pilus Prime Minister’. It kept coming out as ‘Piles Minister’. Cruxonia didn’t have a Minister of Piles. Yet.
Phlebas winced as the First Lord of the Admiralty presented…. a cricket bat. That came in useful for bashing the nails in.
The Foreign Secretary presented a very lissom young lady that he’d picked up on his travels somewhere. That seemed okay with the King, but the Queen did not appreciate the gift. The Crux squad was developing a waiting list.
The donors of a box of Turkish Delights, a Croquet set, and a set of glass crystal decanters all took their places in the dismal queue on Tower Hill, and then the butler uttered the dreadful words;
“His Excellency the Lord Algernon Phlebas, the Lord Chancellor!”
Phlebas’s gift was heavy, so a pair of liveried footmen trundled it forward into position by the throne. Phlebas bowed so low that he nearly hit his nose on the floor. “May I wish Your Majesty a very Happy Christmas?”
King Gladness was, by now, in a right royal strop. Even on pain of an excruciating death, none of his ‘loyal’ subjects had managed to come up with a decent present between them. He peered at Phlebas suspiciously. “What is it?” he grunted.
“Sire, if you would care to unwrap it?” Phlebas had to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the racket as the Speaker of the House became the Screamer of the Hill, painfully regretting his choice of a Croquet set as a gift to the owner of a castle with no Croquet lawn. Phlebas trembled at the sound.
The king grunted, and stepped forward, as Queen Malins watched in amused anticipation. Impatiently, he ripped off the wrapping paper.
It was a beautiful item. A large, hexagonal box made from highly polished Cruxonian cedar, inlaid with skilfully created marquetry including the words ‘GLADNESS REX’ near the top edge.
“Is it some kind of coffee table?” asked Gladness. “How many coffee tables do we have, Malins?” he inquired, with a slightly dangerous edge to his voice.
“Seventeen, sire, at the last count,” she replied sweetly, feeling that the newspaper editors would soon have no government left to report on.
“And how many do we need?”
“Nine, sire.”
Gladness sighed. “I thought so. Gift refused. Cru…..”
“Sire, it is not a coffee table.” Phlebas cut in, hastily. “Your majesty may, of course, put coffee cups on it if your majesty so wishes, but that is not its primary purpose.”
“Lord Phlebas, I’m not in the mood for guessing games….”
“Allow me to demonstrate, sire.”
Phlebas reached underneath it and produced a key. He opened a hidden cover and inserted the key into a keyhole. He turned the key as the hammer rose and fell outside; the crux squad would shortly be ready for their next victim…
Once he had fully wound the mechanism, he released a latch. There came a slightly plinky-plonky rendition of ‘We wish you a Merry Christmas’ and the box began to turn.
“There’s a choice of tunes,” added Phlebas, helpfully.
Gladness was spellbound. Gradually, the six leaves in the lid began to open, and a platform began to rise from the depths of the music box.
On the platform sat Princess Marcella, clad only in a ‘Merry Xmas’ G string and a pair of bright red nipple tassles. She raised her hands seductively. Even Phlebas hadn’t expected her to be dressed quite like that!
Gladness had turned a kind of purple colour. His mouth hung open in utter shock.
Phlebas became businesslike. “So, here’s the deal. You wanted a present that you love. It’s well known that you love Princess Marcella more than anything else in the world. So I defy you to tell me that you don’t love this present.“
The king didn’t answer. He just gurgled slightly.
“Furthermore, Princess Marcella and I know that you long for her happiness. She loves me and I love her, and we are going to be married.”
Gladness collapsed back onto his throne. Malins squealed “You’ve killed him, you horrible man! Fetch a doctor!”
Dr Angus McWindar, the court physician, hurried in, trying to look concerned. Actually, he felt relieved, as his present was a pair of cufflinks considerably inferior to those presented by the queen, and he had fully expected to end the morning on a cross. He felt for a pulse. He shook his head, unsurprisingly making no effort at resuscitation.
“Excellent!” said Marcella, looking most unlike a grieving relative. “I’m his only daughter, so that makes me Queen of Cruxonia! Happy Christmas, everybody!”
Everyone except Malins cheered, and Phlebas passed Gladness’ crown up to her. The crux squad looked relieved, as they were getting pretty tired by now. Even Malins could see the bright side, however. She knelt in front of the new Queen Marcella, Malins in all her finery, kneeling in front of a young lady standing on a music box wearing only a g-string, a pair of tassels, and a crown. “Your Majesty, perhaps your first act as Queen of Cruxonia might be to pardon all those crucified this morning?”
Marcella jumped off the music box, and grabbed a robe, making herself look slightly more regal.
“Why?”
“Well, it’s just that Pilus promised me a ride in his bright yellow open top sleigh this afternoon, so much more fun than the gold-plated black things that old misery guts here used to make me ride in. And, now I’m a widow, I could marry Pilus, couldn’t I? If only he wasn’t, you know, on a cross?”
“Sounds like an excellent idea. Yes indeed.” She cleared her throat, and said in what she hoped was a suitably regal voice, “All those crucified this morning are to be pardoned! Get them down!”
The crux squad groaned, and trudged out. Malins rushed out to tell Pilus the good news.
“Congratulations, Your Majesty,” said Phlebas. He bowed, and then turned towards the door.
“Oi! Where are you going?”
“Well, now you are queen, you won’t want to marry me.”
“Oh yes I will! You can be my Prince Consort! Sit you down on that throne, and I’ll sit with you, just as soon as they shift this corpse.” She smiled. “Best Christmas present he could give me, popping his clogs like that and making me queen!”
And so Phlebas became Prince Phlebas, and he and Queen Marcella were married in Cruxton Cathedral; Malins married Pilus Primus, as soon as he was well enough to walk down the aisle, and she was whisked around the countryside in various yellow carriages, which pleased her greatly.
Never, in human history, had the loss of Gladness caused so much gladness.
Happy Christmas Everybody!
. Pp tends to make use of your crop for less-savoury duties so it might be considered second-hand 
.
