Chapter 9

It wasn't long before Cecil was eating his words. The first non-official dance out didn't go entirely to plan. As they could not dance in uniform they had shown up wearing an array of different outfits. Some in functional but bland tracksuits or leggings, some in jeans and past tour t-shirts. Only a few of the ladies were in dresses but they were fairly formal looking. The overall picture was one of a bunch of novices, and this was the source of the first confrontation. They had arrived in Upton Magna and were performing their usual set. There were a few people watching this time, mainly as they did not realise who the people were until they started dancing. As they set up for the third dance there was a shout from the small group of people who were still hanging around.

"Hey, morris people. Sharpies! I thought that you had all stepped aside to let a real dancer show the people how it is done hey!" It was the Lord of the Dance, once again wearing his eye-catching costume. When he spoke, the word real was said more as reeeaal as he puffed out his chest and strutted before them like a peacock. He really stood out against the mishmash of outfits. "Why have you come back, you failed. You are the past no?"

"This guy is really annoying," said Dennis, stating the obvious.

"You think that you can do a better job Mr the Dance?" taunted Flo.

"Oh dear," said Cecil, more to himself than out loud as the Lord of the Dance walked towards them, chest puffed out like a balloon, chin held up high. He walked along the line of morris dancers, eyeing them up one by one until he arrived in front of Cecil.

"You are the one in charge no? Do you have a glove?"

"A glove? No, why?" asked Cecil a little perplexed. The man in purple reached out and took Cecil's handkerchief from his breast pocket. With a swift flick he swished it against each of Cecil's cheeks and let it float gently to the floor between them. As the white cotton square reached the ground, Cecil realised what had happened. "I challenge you to a dance off!" he shouted for all to hear. I challenge you, and you, and especially you!" he was skipping along the line, pointing at each dancer as he went. "Are you ready for what the Lord can deliver?" In a whisper he asked "What do you think of my catchphrase? Needs work still no?"

"Are you for real?" asked Brian stepping forward. "You couldn't last a minute as a morris man. I think that you should just mind your own business and be on your way."

"What do you the people want?" asked the Lord of the Dance, addressing the onlookers who were enjoying the mild confrontational jibes. "Do you want to watch these has beens tripping over themselves or do you want to see the Lord in action?"

"Let him dance!" shouted a voice in the crowd.

"Let's see what he can do!"

"Put your money where your mouth is."

"You," said the Lord of the Dance, pointing at Sylvia who was holding her fiddle. "Play!" Sylvia looked at Cecil who calmly nodded. She placed the instrument under her chin and dragged the well-rosined bow over the strings. The tune she played sang to the crowd and the dancers, setting toes tapping straight away, hips swaying to the undeniable rhythm. Like a streak of lightening, the Lord of the Dance sprang to life. He spun on the spot before grabbing a length of spruce from one of the morris men. He swung it around Fred Astairesquely before throwing it in the air like a majorette's baton. He span faster and faster, becoming a blur before stopping like a statue and plucking the falling stick out of the air. His feet nimbly tapped along the road and the pavement, picking out different sounds to complement the fiddle and wow the enthralled audience. Now that he had their attention he fed off the responses like a ravenous tiger. The cheering and applauding egged him on as he now swung the stick as though he were performing kendo. His form and line had power yet was graceful and sleek.

Brian stepped forward having decided that this was too much, his feet picked up the beat as he single-stepped to the tune he knew well. The two dancers squared up. Brian performed a move which the Lord of the Dance copied with a flourish. Everything that Brian did, the Lord of the Dance was able to repeat. He was magnificent. They swung their sticks around and clashed, first in a fencing manner, then butts and tips. Brian was not holding back yet the Lord of the Dance easily dealt with the ferocity of his blows. Brian was visibly getting tired yet the Lord of the Dance looked like he was just warming up. The song came to its end at which point the Lord of the Dance broke away and ended with the splits. Brian hobbled off, a beaten man.

The crowd cheered like the morris dancers had not heard in a long time. The Lord of the Dance soaked up the applause and milked it, bowing and smiling. He addressed the morris dancers as the noise calmed. "Hey morris dancers. You are beaten no? Am I not the greatest? Did I not deliver? It is I, the Lord of the Dance who will protect the people of Shropshire from now on. You are the past, it I the Lord who is the future no?"

The only thing that Cecil said in response was "Pack up." The dancers put away their instruments and drifted away to their cars one by one to the sound of the cheering behind them.