I next encountered Ben during the Great War. Among the trenches of the Algarve the thunder of the Dominator's great war machines boomed, as friend and foe alike were crushed under their tracks, and in the skies above Oslo the British pteranodons swivelled and twirled in their fight against the "bat-men" of the Hun. Meanwhile, I was driving a herd of llamas across the mountains of Tibet, working my way towards the peak of the mountain the locals called Herbert, where was said to reside a wise man to whom I intended to bring my question. Despite the heat of the noonday sun, I was shivering with cold, for I had never been able to bring myself to wear a cardigan since that dreadful night when… but I digress.
It was 3 in the afternoon on Sunday the xth of Blib when I finally reached my destination. In a dank cave warmed by the pitiful flame of a fitted gas fire, an old man sat cross-legged on the floor playing cup-and-ball.
"Have I the honour of addressing the wise man of the mountain?" I inquired.
"You have, fine lady. You have a question?" His wrinkly eyes smiled, while his withered lips winked cheekily and his long white beard curled up at the end.
"I do, wise man of the mountain, and I bring an offering."
I handed over the statutory grain of rice, which he inspected closely through a jeweller's eye glass.
"Ah, consider the grain of rice!" he profounded, "On its own, a healthy and nutritious breakfast fit for an emperor, but put it with its fellows and it produces enough energy to power a galaxy until the end of time!"
This must indeed be a truly wise man, for his statement sounded to me like utter codswallop. I posed my question.
"O wise man of the mountain," I began, "My question is this… where can I find the scoundrel Ben-jer-man Calthorpe-Hughton-Psmyyyyythe, that I may trounce him soundly and prevail upon him to return my twelve guineas?"
"Ben-jer-man Calthorpe-Hughton-Psmyyyyythe? Why, he is a fine man, a gentleman among gentlemen, and a thorough good stick to boot! I could indeed inform you of his whereabouts, don't think for a moment that I don't know, I'm not bluffing honest, but I could not possibly allow you to track him down and inflict such a terrible suffering upon him, for is it not true that vengeance is a dish best served with anchovies? Take your grain of rice, madam, and return to civilisation; I cannot betray such an absolutely magnificent egg as young Ben!"
I was naturally astounded. My experience of Ben had been that he was an utter cad, a bounder, and a scoundrel. I could not conceive how this allegedly wise man could be so deluded… and yet, I remembered how I myself had been taken in and so swiftly enamoured by the youngster's glamorous appearance and honeyed tones. But I was a mere lady of caprice and eternal youth, while this old man was reputed to hold secrets known only to a chosen few… then I noticed a familiar twinkle in his eye. The last time I had seen that sparkle it had almost been outshone by the glitter and lace of a particular item of clothing…
That beard, that ridiculous example of facial hair, how could it be real? It was so obvious now… I reached out before the aged one had time to wince, grabbed a handful of whisker and tugged with all my might.
"OW!"
Whoopsie doodles. I quickly made to apologise, but before I could utter a word I was pre-empted by the whining tones of the stereotypical hermit.
"All right, all right! There's no need for that! He's hiding in the back of the cave!"
At this a shadow detached itself from the walls, waving a rapier in one hand while the other scratched his bottom.
"You were cleverer than I thought, Miss Hagerty! But you'll never get your twelve guineas back! I've spent it all on fast women, loose jalopies and a nice new pair of shoes! Mwaaahahahahahah!"
"The twelve guineas is of no concern to me any more, vile blackguard! I seek only reparation for the years of humiliation and despair that your wicked deed led me into!"
I had come prepared, and drew my own epee, which I had been assured was a suitable weapon for a lady. My sword met that of my opponent with a delicate "ting".
He was good, but I had trained under Lady Hortensia ffoulkes-Psonge, and she also taught me how to fence. With the money I made from receiving and selling stolen goods I was able to learn sword fighting. After the first few cuts to my fist I decided to stop fighting swords, and took lessons in how to fight WITH them.
We duelled across the mountains, down into the valleys, across the deserts of Finland and finally to the top of the Therrenback Falls where Thora Coniam Dolle planned to have us fall to our death to put an end to the constant indifference with which her tales of us were greeted. However, by this time we had discovered that by clashing weapons at various points along their length we could strike "ting"s of different pitch and timbre, and had already composed a short piece which we called "Ladlespoon Tableknife", for no other reason than that we were passing through a cutlery festival in Islamabad at the time. It was a competent but somewhat twee tune, but it passed the time pleasantly enough.
There at the top of the falls it was that the fateful incident happened. Ben managed, as villains do, to back me up against a rock overhanging the drop and as I swayed precariously on the edge attempted to harass me over with a sudden flurry of thrusts. I was quick enough to parry, and the notes rang out in the spume-filled air.
"Wait!" I cried, "Try that again with a C# instead of a D!"
Ben complied, and for the first time in seven years, when Ben had reached the age of 97 and I was a sprightly 23, we ceased our clash. Such a melody we had never heard before; it was one to soothe the savage breast, and indeed it calmed the raging fires in our hearts. Again we tried, and again, the magic growing with each performance. We moved on to the next bar, until by the time the sun rose the next morning, casting its golden glow through the mist and dew, we had finished the piece, and into the bargain had made our own peace.
"I am finished with villainy and wrongdoing," declared Ben, "For I have found the joys of rhapsody! Henceforth I shall be of impeccable character and general goodness!"
I, in turn, foreswore my mission of revenge, and in the haze of good feeling we fell into each other's arms and prepared to seal our bond with a kiss. As Ben bent to my lips, waggling his seven-inch tongue in promise, we lost our balance and tumbled over the falls.
Luckily the falls were only three feet high, and by the time we emerged cold and shivering from the pool beneath the moment had passed.
And that, my friends, is how we wrote the theme tune to "Bewitched".