Somewhere in the glum shadows of that kitchen stood a large gentle horse, very still but watching intently and carefully like all his kind. From over in the shadowy corner of the fire one of the wild guizers called out 'Whey! Whoa! Fidget, stand forth and show thyself!'
There was no reply from the other side of the room where the great horse stood looming over the table. Fidget gently scraped one iron-shod hoof on the flagstone floor.
The table creaked a little nervously as if frightened by the creature, then remembered that in the whole history of the world there had never been any trouble between the horse people and the table tribes; only the time when Ouzo the Cloth-eared Mighty king of all horses at that time, had misheard and thought he had been told there was a stable around the corner. When he found it was a table around the corner, he had become very bad tempered and kicked the table on its leg. Fortunately the table did not retaliate; most tables are very well behaved and almost never kick. No, there had never been any trouble between horses and tables - they being such similar shapes, with mighty legs and broad backs.
'Out good Fidget, out of the shadow into the light,' called another wild man, more kindly than the others
The little ragged man lumbered into the open space wielding the bundle of twigs tied to his staff. His tattered leather coat flapped noisily about him as he rushed to and fro sweeping indiscriminately first at the ground then at any person or creature that stood too close.
'Room, room good gallants all for we shall see a dance and such a dance so merry and so bright 'twill make all hearts glad; and such a dance so strange and convoluting 'twill make thee wondrous sad; such a dance that ne'er did feet grace ground; such a dance that legs and lungs and spirits and eyes, that toes and twitches and fingers and thighs, t hat blood and guts and plucks and soul all wrapped within our bag of skin - all must long for!'
He came to a halt and turning the bunch of twigs toward heaven, thumped his staff on the stone floor and leaned heavily upon it. He stood for a while gasping, for his wild capering had quite taken his breath away.
'Come on Fidget, old thing,' he gasped in an undertone, 'I've done me best: here's room for thee; dance for dear life's sake; dance to make the dead awake; dance to bring back the light; dance to warm our flesh and bones this night.'
Then suddenly from around the room came the calls of the wild men and guizers and mumpers as they threw their ragged arms into the air or brandished their wooden clubs or struck sparks from the earth with their swords. The air was filled with 'Whoa back!' and 'Yert abit!' with 'Come away!' and 'Huppa now!' with all the many whoops and clicks and hollers that people all over the world rouse the horse population with! And as suddenly as it had begun, the enormous roaring of those clangorous voices ceased, as if a tidal wave had passed through the room and was gone.
Then, into the silence that followed came an unfamiliar voice, the voice of someone who had not spoken for many dusty ages. Then up spoke Fidget and out spoke he! 'Though my voice is a little hoarse after many silent years yet am I a mighty horse whom you all must fear. I will dance but I will tell you that I will only dance to the music unexpected and not to your uncouth orders or arrogant cries. You may not ride rough-shod over me but I will dance to the sound of the unprepared.'
And again the silence, for not only was everyone shocked at hearing Fidget's demands, when most there thought a horse could be commanded to do almost anything, but - they had not a musical instrument between them! Not a fiddle or a mouth-organ, not a hurdigurdy nor a pipe and tabor could be found, not in the depths of the stickiest, dirtiest pocket or in the whole of their assembly of packs and sackbags, of knapsacks and knotted kerchiefs.
Then more silence: deep and thoughtfilled; then deeper still like the most solemn contemplation; utter silence.
The first sound that could be noticed was a tiny, rhythmic, wooden ticking from the table. Then a distinct creak from one of its legs joined in. The sleeve of the old riding coat on the great kitchen door began to swing in time in an absent sort of way, also clicking two buttons at every other stroke. The latch of the door took up the rhythm with a heavy wooden clonking. Somewhere near the fire, one of the twisted iron pokers adopted a sort of double beat, sharp and ringing. Water in the stone jug began to make a hollow sloshing like the waters under the earth. Two pans on the side shelf commenced to jostle noisily together. The cockerel offered his voice making a soft clucking. High above in the rafters, two mice ran continually back and forth with a prolonged skittering. Finally the wren completed it with her sweet and piercing song so that even the wildest natured person there began softly to weep.
At last the whole room gently and completely filled with the oddest and merriest, the most disturbing and most infectious music and to this sweet and peculiar and rhythmic and disjointed percussion, Fidget began the strangest dance you or I or anyone has seen - or will ever see again!
His head began to nod, his body began to sway, he flexed his legs to the sounds, then he walked into the middle of the room and this is what happened next: he capered and galloped; he did plain steps and light hansoms; he executed the quick turn and the cartwheel; he did double galleys and furrey capers; he tripped, but never over; he made hockle-backs and great saltires; he reeled and jigged and rocked and rolled and waltzed and fox-trotted and shimmied and smooched; he executed grande arabesquos, jettes, triple salcos (entre chats he was never keen on because of the difficulty of getting in between two cats).
He did the Lambado, the Tango, the Fandango, the Sailor's Hornpipe, the Bossa Nova, the Rumba, the Dance of the Sacred Circles; he danced Lumps of Plum Pudding, The Woebley, The Shepherds Hey; he danced My Lady Isabella's Gavotte, Earl Spencer's Farewell jig, Times Ticklish But Be Ye Never So Great, The Fool's Jig, My Trunklehose A-ripped Be, The Blue Eyed Stranger; he danced The Birds A-building and Smash The Windows, The Old Woman Tossed Up in a Blanket, Stantipipes and all that anyone could remember of Wat's Progress to London Town, and drew all to a close with The Beginning of the World.
And as he stood in the dancing space before the assembled company, his breath was as gentle as a spring lamb, his eyes as soft as a new-born baby, his demeanour and movements were as fresh and as easy as if he had just awoken from a long refreshing sleep. His legs so steady, his face so eager with not a drop of sweat nor any strand of his long mane tangled. Everyone was silent, even the flames in the fire, even the infinitesimal slow settling of the age-old stones of the age-old house, paused. Then there was a gasp from every creature and every thing and every single and solitary part of that room, as if the most wonderful thing in the whole wide world had just been witnessed. The gasp grew to a tremendous cheer as everyone and everything sang out in celebration.
'And that's just the beginning . . .' Fidget said casually in a lazy, unhurried voice.
Hmmm - How about some Shropshire Fidget Pie .... it does NOT contain horse meat!