called), it was at the very moment that Colin felt compelled to pray. With their constant pulling and tugging and shrieking and bickering, their poking and slapping and name-calling, the most solemn ceremonies were chaotic, and even an entire order of contemplative nuns had complained that they lost their ability to concentrate if the conjoint counts were in the congregation.
But like the Duke of Dyspepsia and the Prince of Pustula, the Counts of Coagulatia were immensely wealthy and overwhelmingly powerful. No one could change their behavior, or complain about it.
It was at an evensong service that those who had gathered in the cathedral noticed a change. The counts, sitting together as they always did, since there was no other way for them to sit, were relatively peaceful throughout the service. They knelt together, sang together, and even, the villagers noticed (because it was not the usual thing, or proper thing, in church), giggled loudly from time to time as if they had a secret.
"Something has happened to the conjoint counts," people murmured. "Wonder what!"
The murmurs reached the castle.
"What has happened to the conjoint counts?" was asked again and again, first of the guards at the portcullis, then by a food deliveryman with a crate of aubergines at the kitchen door, and once by a small child who wandered through the courtyard with his fingers in his mouth (or mouths, as he had been taught to say) so that the question came out slurpy and moist.
What has happened to the conjoint counts?
Finally the people were told. A royal proclamation was issued, with trumpets tootling and flower petals flung everywhere along the village lanes.
"The conjoint counts have chosen a brides!" was the announcement.
The villagers wondered exactly what that meant, and who the brides might be that would be willing to marry the pair of them, but no one dared to ask.
***
"I love her initials," Colin said with a wicked little laugh as they began to plan their journey to the neighboring domain where the Birthday Ball was being held for the princess. They were making a lists of things to take. "Pee pee."
"Pee pee poo poo," Cuthbert chortled. "I'm going to get new underwears and have it monogrammed like that." He began to write it on the list: PP.
"No, you can't! I thought of it first." Colin slapped his brother's hand so that the pencil fell to the floor.
Cuthbert pushed him. In no time they were back at it, shoving and poking as they always had, forgetting the brief friendship that their decision to marry the princess had forged.
"I'm going to burp on you!" Cuthbert said. "Big burps on the way!" He opened his mouth and belched at Colin, who, being attached, could not avoid it, though he turned his head away. "Gotcha! Smelled like our lunches, huh? Huh?"
"I'm going to tell her what a poopy-pants you are!" Colin said. "Then she won't want to—"
But they both fell silent. If the princess didn't want to marry one of them, she couldn't marry the other.
Sullenly they stopped jostling each other, picked up the pencil, went back to the list, and continued planning the journey and deciding what provisions they would need.
Colin looked at what had been written already, gave a hoarse chuckle, and poked Cuthbert in the ribs with his elbow. "Know what? Know where we're going? Huh? Huh?"
Cuthbert poked him back. "Huh?"
"Balls!" Colin said.
"Balls!" Cuthbert echoed with a rude gleeful laugh.
For a moment they were quite peaceful together, thinking how amusing it would be to announce their presence by bellowing "Balls!" when they arrived, and then to explain their intentions to become Patricia Priscilla's husbands.
12. The Invitation
The invitation from the castle, elaborately decorated, arrived in the village on Thursday. It was delivered to each cottage and each farmhouse and, finally, to the schoolhouse.
The princess noticed with relief that the message boy, an old man who had been doing the same job for the castle for many, many
But like the Duke of Dyspepsia and the Prince of Pustula, the Counts of Coagulatia were immensely wealthy and overwhelmingly powerful. No one could change their behavior, or complain about it.
It was at an evensong service that those who had gathered in the cathedral noticed a change. The counts, sitting together as they always did, since there was no other way for them to sit, were relatively peaceful throughout the service. They knelt together, sang together, and even, the villagers noticed (because it was not the usual thing, or proper thing, in church), giggled loudly from time to time as if they had a secret.
"Something has happened to the conjoint counts," people murmured. "Wonder what!"
The murmurs reached the castle.
"What has happened to the conjoint counts?" was asked again and again, first of the guards at the portcullis, then by a food deliveryman with a crate of aubergines at the kitchen door, and once by a small child who wandered through the courtyard with his fingers in his mouth (or mouths, as he had been taught to say) so that the question came out slurpy and moist.
What has happened to the conjoint counts?
Finally the people were told. A royal proclamation was issued, with trumpets tootling and flower petals flung everywhere along the village lanes.
"The conjoint counts have chosen a brides!" was the announcement.
The villagers wondered exactly what that meant, and who the brides might be that would be willing to marry the pair of them, but no one dared to ask.
***
"I love her initials," Colin said with a wicked little laugh as they began to plan their journey to the neighboring domain where the Birthday Ball was being held for the princess. They were making a lists of things to take. "Pee pee."
"Pee pee poo poo," Cuthbert chortled. "I'm going to get new underwears and have it monogrammed like that." He began to write it on the list: PP.
"No, you can't! I thought of it first." Colin slapped his brother's hand so that the pencil fell to the floor.
Cuthbert pushed him. In no time they were back at it, shoving and poking as they always had, forgetting the brief friendship that their decision to marry the princess had forged.
"I'm going to burp on you!" Cuthbert said. "Big burps on the way!" He opened his mouth and belched at Colin, who, being attached, could not avoid it, though he turned his head away. "Gotcha! Smelled like our lunches, huh? Huh?"
"I'm going to tell her what a poopy-pants you are!" Colin said. "Then she won't want to—"
But they both fell silent. If the princess didn't want to marry one of them, she couldn't marry the other.
Sullenly they stopped jostling each other, picked up the pencil, went back to the list, and continued planning the journey and deciding what provisions they would need.
Colin looked at what had been written already, gave a hoarse chuckle, and poked Cuthbert in the ribs with his elbow. "Know what? Know where we're going? Huh? Huh?"
Cuthbert poked him back. "Huh?"
"Balls!" Colin said.
"Balls!" Cuthbert echoed with a rude gleeful laugh.
For a moment they were quite peaceful together, thinking how amusing it would be to announce their presence by bellowing "Balls!" when they arrived, and then to explain their intentions to become Patricia Priscilla's husbands.
12. The Invitation
The invitation from the castle, elaborately decorated, arrived in the village on Thursday. It was delivered to each cottage and each farmhouse and, finally, to the schoolhouse.
The princess noticed with relief that the message boy, an old man who had been doing the same job for the castle for many, many
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