The Man Behind the Throne
By Gareth D Jones
With bombastic aplomb, the self-styled Grand and Cognizant Vizier settled himself into his voluminous throne. His parti-coloured robes of aubergine and burnt ochre drifted to rest around him like the silken folds of a deflating hot air balloon. His coiffure and beard were of such exuberant proportions that a team of three barbers were kept in constant employ to tend to them. He was, by his own admission, a great man.
Aldoon Snickerthwatt, senior attending barber, scuttled over to tend to a few stray wisps of hair before the grand doors to the audience chamber were opened. He brandished an ivory comb carved from a tusk of the now extinct desert walrus, and a pair of silver scissors formed in the likeness of a peacock’s head. Briskly he attended to his illustrious task, then melted back into the shadows of the velvet hangings that festooned the rear wall.
The huge dark wood doors, carved in a phantasmagorical intaglio of stylised mythical creatures, opened slowly under the hands of two armour bearers. Ushered in by the Lord Attending Justice, a flock of dignitaries and worthies entered to seek audience with the throne.
Snickerthwatt smiled indulgently at the scene, confident in the knowledge that it was he that made the Vizier so grand.
Already posted ahead of me this week: Paul Raven and Neil Beynon.