At last the King found his voice. ‘Tell me what is going on! I was promised life in a Crystal Palace, with my name famous forever, with magic steeds and special powers. My Palace is made of ice, my steeds are the ugliest brutes in history, I look like a fat stupid peasant, and the only servant I’ve seen is a bandy legged scampering dwarf. I demand to know what is happening! I am a King and I want to be treated like one!’ His face got even redder with fury.

The dark figure stopped. It lost the almost benevolent air it had adopted while describing the animals and the ‘arrangements’ in the hall. It grew, filling the hall with shadow. The voice became mountainous again.

‘You were a King, but are one no longer. The Deceiver tricked you. Your name, the one you had as a King, is known and will be known, while human memory lasts, as a tyrant, a slayer of innocent children. You would not want to meet the people in the world who thought you were that King. A King should cherish and protect his people, especially the children. You killed those that had no chance to sin, had no chance to grow and have families, no chance to become doctors or healers, blacksmiths or artists, singers or storytellers. Your new task is to repair what you have done. Once a year, every year, around the world, at deepest mid-winter, children ask for small gifts from a kindly, jolly old man, dressed like a peasant. They write messages and put them in flames, in bonfires, in chimneys above fireplaces, cooking hearths, and by magic they come here. You and your helpers will see what they want, and deliver those presents. And then your new name will also live forever, and it will have a much better reputation than your old one. And you will move in secret ways, and everywhere in the world will be open to you so you can deliver those presents. You will do this in one night to every child in the world. For though some people say that only good children receive a present from this kindly old man, we know that there is good in every child. How can there not be, when they have not had time to fulfil themselves for good or evil? Each child is like a vessel into which you will pour good things. Of course there are millions of children in the world, so we have warped time to help you with your deliveries. To all the children in the world it will seem that your presents arrive in just one night, whereas it should really take you about 25,000 years to deliver all those presents even with your inexhaustible reindeer. It will seem like one night to the children, but 25,000 years to you. You will have plenty of time to consider what it means to be a King, or a peasant, or a kindly old man and consider which you prefer to be. And as I’ve said, you’ll have plenty of help. Oh, but they don’t like to called dwarves by the way. Elves is a better term’.

And the King noticed hundreds, if not thousands of these ‘elves’ coming out of the shadows, most looking at him with resignation or mild contempt. But with horror he saw faces he knew in the front one or two rows. His Chief Guard, and his soldiers, all misshapen, short, bow-legged, but clearly recognisable. And they were looking at him not with resignation or contempt, but clear, plain hatred.

The King stuttered and trembled, ‘No, get them away from me… no, no’ and his voice rose to a shout and a scream piercing at first, then so high that it was barely audible.

‘What’s that? Lost for polite words? Surely not the King famous for his wit, his conversation, his fine speech? Well, we will have cheerful words or none at all, I think, don’t you?’

And the King opened his mouth to say something to protest, but whatever he tried to say and however hard he tried, the same words came out.

‘HO HO HO, … HO HO HO… ho ho ho’

‘Good, that’s better,’ said the dark figure. ‘I’ll let you get on with it. After all, you’ve got a few million presents to find and deliver already. You won’t see me very much but I’ll be watching to check how you’re getting on.’ And he disappeared, leaving the King (‘Ho, Ho, Ho’), with his elves behind in his Great Ice Palace. And they still live there even as I speak

So there we have it. The story of how the infamous King got to play a different part in the Christmas story and how he did get to live forever after all. Do leave him a mince pie and a few carrots for the reindeer, because even though they are magical they do work hard.

Darren paused and the adults and children listening all let out their breath, thinking he had finished. But he looked up at the audience, and then down with a serious expression on his face, to the children sitting close to his feet. These were his final words:

But if you see that real old man who used to be a king, not the ones in shops pretending to be him, but the real one, don’t get too close. I don’t know whether he really is feeling too kindly just yet. You see, I’m told that if you see him this far north, he’s still got another 24,457 years to go before Christmas Day this year. So don’t delay him…