Heart of the Staff - Complete Series

by Carol Marrs Phipps

  “Mom!” hollered the stinky boy as she bent to pull a weed. “Get wood on the fire! I bagged fresh meat for supper!”

  She stood up, brushing the dirt from her skirts and hands.

  “Look Mom! I got him with my sling! I knocked 'im clean out of the air! I'm gettin' good, aye?”

  “I'll say Frankin,” she said, peering into his bag. “I've been watching you get better day by day. This is game to remember, all right, particularly when you may go the rest of your life and not get another on the wing like that.”

  “So all you think is I just got lucky, isn't hit?”

  “Well Frankin, someone without your sharp eye would certainly have an empty bag right now...”

  “Ha!” he crowed with a leap. “I'm really somethin' with my sling, and you know hit.”

  “I've just hung the tea-kettle over the fire,” she said, ruffling up his hair. “You could wash up for a nice cup o' tea before you dress your bird, if you don't dally.”

  Frankin raced to the back door, hung Hubba Hubba on the latch and wheeled 'round to go to the well in time to find his little brothers following. “Hey Poopkink!” he snarled. “If you and Poopdink have to sneak along behind me, don't you dare touch the game bag.”

  ***

  “Help!” cawed Hubba Hubba, coming to in total blackness. “I'm dead again! I can't see!” He hysterically thrashed and flogged his wings against the insides of the cramped box they had him in, pausing to go light in the head, gasping for want of air.

  Someone heard his cries and threw open the box. “Kawk!” he cried as four chubby hands crowded in after him. “Have some respect! Can't you idiots tell I'm wounded here?”

  Both boys squealed and yanked back, dropping the lid on Hubba Hubba.

  “Hey! I object! This is abuse! Here I am, smashed in the head...”

  “Hit does talk!” they cried in wide-eyed chorus.

  “You got it!” shouted Hubba Hubba. “And do you ones listen? Here I am smashed in the head, some drooling gnoff strangles me 'till I black out, maybe die, and here you ones whack me in the head again... Is this the stinkin' Pit, or what? Well?”

  Suddenly they lunged at the box. Hubba Hubba exploded into frantic flight about the room, landing on a quilting frame drawn up by twine to the overhead beams. “All right,” he rattled. “At least I can see this is some rotten old kitchen, somewhere, and not the Pit. And whatever you two are, I am not some kind of 'it!' I'm one right proud crow and I'm traveling with a young man who ought to here directly to cut off your stinkin' heads for doing this to me...!”

  “Hey you little gwrteithiau!” yelled Frankin as he threw open the door. “What'd I tell you about my game bag? And why weren't you out helping us drive in the six sheep which just now got out in the garden? Which one of you left the gate open anyway...?”

  “It's loose!” cried Kink.

  “Close the door!” cried Dink.

  “I am not an 'it,'“ rattled Hubba Hubba.

  “Taran!” shouted Frankin as he slammed the door and began glancing about. “So you not only let the sheep out, you got into my bag and turned the crow loose! If he gets clean away, you'll not only be cachu, I'll find something really disgusting and make you each eat its cachu!”

  “He's right over your head,” said Dink.

  Frankin wheeled 'round and looked up. “Mom!” he bellowed, “Come in here and see what they did now!” He lunged and missed Hubba Hubba, whacking the quilting frame madly about on the ends of its short twines.

  “Kawk!” cried Hubba Hubba, as he crouched to hang on.

  Frankin leaped again, snapping a twine and knocking down the frame to smash a huge crock of soupy cottage cheese onto the floor.

  “You bloated idiot!” cawed Hubba Hubba, springing into flight about the room. He spied a board nailed across the timbers and landed on that with his back to the ceiling. “You stinking armpit maggot...”

  “So you're some kind of magic crow, aye?” he said, taking out his sling. “Well it doesn't matter, bird-o. You'll never get out of this room, 'cause when I knock you down, I'm goin' 'o jerk your ugly head out o' your shoulders!”

  “No!” cried Kink and Dink together.

  “Frankin!” cried their mom as she stepped in the door to go apoplectically wide eyed. “My stars! That's fifteen gallons of cottage cheese, all over!”

  “They did it!” wailed Frankin. “They got into my bag when I told them not to and turned loose the crow. I've got to kill it quick...”

  “No!” cried Dink. “Hit's magic...!”

  “Hit talks!” cried Kink.

  “And they've gotten windy as kites in the process, too, I see. Well you two, what have I told you about making up things...?”

  “But it's true!” wailed Kink. “Frankin knows it, too!”

  “I think you two need to take this stack of bowls and scoop up as much clean cheese as you can get off the floor for your next several meals. Then, you need to mop up every bit of what's left.”

  “But we aren't making it up!” wailed Dink, as his mom thrust a stack of bowls into his arms and steered him toward the slumping mound of cheese and crock chards.

  “Now, freak bird, hit's your turn,” said Frankin, fitting a stone into his sling.

  “Kawk!” cried Hubba Hubba. “Lady, lady! Please listen to your little fellows!”

  “That's not the least bit amusing, Frankin,” she said, wheeling 'round to glare at him.

  “But I didn't...”

  “No, no, no, no!” cawed Hubba Hubba. “I did! I'm not some game animal to be beaned and chucked in the kettle. Hey! I've got brains here.”

  “Mercy!” she gasped. “You do talk!”

  “Hit's a trick, Mom, said Frankin.

  “Right. So where's the minstrel puppeteer?”

  “Come on, Mom! Somebody taught him to talk...”

  “Absolutely!” rattled Hubba Hubba. “Just like they did you, only I didn't need to be taught how to think, and you've yet to manage.”

  “Don't touch the bird,” she said, snatching away his sling. “Do not harm him, understand?”

  “But he'll get away!”

  “We're going to be real good to him 'till we figure him out,” she said. “Now go fetch me a good sized box to put him in, and make sure there are a right smart amount of air holes in it.”

  “Air holes?” cried Hubba Hubba. “What kind of 'real good' to me is that? No wonder you haven't taught maggot boy here how to think, yet! And I don't care what he brings back, you're going to have to come up here and get me!”

  ***

  Herio could scarcely take his eyes off the sky long enough to find his stirrup as he thanked Mrs. Gweld for the pie and said his goodbyes. “I wonder if they passed by while I was inside,” he said once he had Gwynt underway, following Sophie on her unicorn to Castlegoll Road.

  “Well, this is it,” she said, hesitating as he doffed his hat and steered Gwynt onto the road.

  “She's pretty,” he thought. He looked back to see her disappear around the corner. “Actually, she's very pretty. And now that I think about it, she must have been interested in me. My! Could that be why she came with her unicorn instead of her brothers?” He gave a deep sigh and resumed combing the heavens. Suddenly something was fluttering in his ear, giving him a start. “Herio!” chirped Tweet, landing on his shoulder and springing into flight again. “You've got to hurry!

  Hubba Hubba's been shot and the evil boy's going to eat him!”

  “No! Is he dead?”

  “He was alive last I knew, but...”

  “Good! Show me. Let's go Gwynt!”

  “It was actually on this very road, just two farms south of here, where he was shot. We have to wait there for either Chirp or Squeak to show up when they find where the boy took him.”

  At once, Herio had Gwynt pounding away at a full gallop. Soon his side was cramping from all the bouncing pie.

  “Herio! Tweet! Hoy!” came a wee tweet from up ahead.

  “Squeak!” ch
irped Tweet. “Is Hubba Hubba still alive?”

  “Hurry! I'll show you!”

  Away they raced, down the road and through the very same fields crossed by Frankin and Hubba Hubba. At last they splashed through the creek and had zigzagged nearly across the orchard.

  “You're here!” squeaked Chirp, dropping down from the sky, halting them at once. “See that house through the trees? They took him inside in a game bag, but I think they have him in a box. He's hurt, Herio. I don't know how bad. The biggest boy right yonder, see? He beaned him on the head and knocked him right out of the sky. They were going to dress him for supper...”

  “And they haven't yet?” said Herio.

  “I don't think so, 'cause the lady and the boys got to fussing something awful.”

  “How do you reckon they'd take my walking up and asking for their supper?”

  “Not very well. They've been shouting at each other the whole time I've been here.”

  “Maybe I could offer them some money for Hubba,” he said, glancing away at the house. “They look kind of hard up.”

  “They look like they might rob you...” squeaked Chirp.

  “Oh surely not, but if it eases your mind, I'll dump out most of our money in the rotted out place in this old peach tree.” He poured out his coins, put away his bag and threw his leg over Gwynt. “Well, let's go get Hubba, boys.”

  Frankin trotted out several rods to meet them. “You better hold it right there, fellow!” he hollered as he wrapped a stone in the patch of his sling. “We don't know you at all, so that makes you ones a trespasser...”

  “Frankin!” echoed the cry from the house. “How'd you get that sling? You bring it back right now! You hear? And don't you dare talk to strangers that a-way unless there's a good reason!”

  “I'm right sorry,” said Herio. “I certainly didn't mean to make you think I was trespassing. I'm just passing through on my way to Castle Goll, but I got separated from my crow...”

  “Crow?” said Frankin without so much as glancing back at his mother. “No crow here, fellow, so just turn around. Go!” He swung his rock back and forth like he might fling it around and throw it.

  “Frankin! You heard me!” came the cry from the house.

  Frankin did not bat an eye nor turn around, but the shouting woman must have had his attention, for suddenly Kink dashed out of the bushes and yanked away the sling.

  “You stinking cachu face, Poopkink!” shouted Frankin, grabbing his fingers.

  “That hurt!”

  “We got a crow shut up in the house, mister!” cried Kink, dancing about warily, well out of Frankin's reach.

  “Yea!” cried Dink, running up. “He talks and Mom's afraid of him!”

  “This time you gwrteithiau have really gone and done it!” cried Frankin, going red in the face. “I'm going to pound you...”

  “Not while I'm alive!” howled the Mother, grabbing him by the arm. “And you're done with slings for a good while, buster!”

  Frankin tried to wrench free, but she gave him a shake.

  “I'm man of the house now that Dad and Alwin's gone!” he wailed. “You said so!”

  “Yea? Well, when you can't live up to it, then you're just a little boy, aren't you? And if that makes you disappointed, kid-o, hit makes me doubly so. Now let's work you back up to being a man again. You get yourself around back and chop me a proper rick o' wood!”

  “But there's a whole pile of wood 'round...Aaaah!”

  “And there's a proper red welt acrost the back o' your leg, too!” she hissed as she got him good with a whistling switch. She watched him scuttle out of sight. When she heard chopping commence, she retied her apron. “Now I'm right sorry for that, young man. He's turned mean since his daddy was kilt at Ash Fork. Now he didn't even give you ones the chance to give your name, 'fore he started in, did he? He's Frankin, I'm Mrs. Simms and these two be Wilmer and Jake...”

  “I'm Herio, ma'am,” he said, thinking to remove his hat.

  “Well, we've been kind o' afraid of your bird. We didn't know what to think. He bit me good every time I tried to get him down, and he was swearing like a sailor...”

  “Sounds like Hubba Hubba, all right...”

  “That's his name?”

  Herio nodded.

  “And you taught him to curse like that?”

  “No, but I've learnt a bunch from him...”

  “You know, that's one lie I think I believe,” she said with a laugh as she turned to Kink and Dink. “You ones run inside and bring this nice young fellow his bird.”

  They raced to the door and darted inside. Immediately they were back outside again, with the door slammed fast behind them. They looked up at Herio with wide eyes.

  “He's deliberately knocking things off shelves...” said Kink.

  “And he said when you get here you're going to cut off our heads,” said Dink with an uneasy swallow.

  Herio put his ear to the door.

  “And when he does show up, “cawed Hubba Hubba amidst the crash of dishes, “you all will wish you were far, far, away! He'll make you pay! He'll cut off your grubby little fingers! He'll...!”

  “He'll come and take you with him!” hollered Herio as he threw open the door.

  “Herio!” cawed Hubba Hubba, swooping down from some shelves to walk up the front of his shirt as he madly beat his wings. “You did it! You saved me! They were going to eat me!” He flapped his way up onto Herio's shoulder to drop open his beak and go quite skinny. “You mean you didn't kill them?”

  “Well, no, Hubba, they returned you in one piece... In fact, ma'am?” he said, taking out his purse and dumping out some crowns onto the bench by the door. “This is for your dishes.”

  “Why you ones don't have to...”

  “Have you seen how many he broke?”

  “Every bloomin' one I could reach,” rattled Hubba Hubba as he bristled all over.

  “And 'one piece,' I dispute that. Have you seen the knot on my head?”

  “Then you've gained from the experience,” said Herio, rolling his eyes for Mrs. Simms.

  She nodded and herded her boys back towards the house. “Looks like we both got our hands full,” she called with a nod, as she shooed Kink and Dink into the house. “Good luck, you hear?”

  “Thank you ma'am, for being good to my bird,” said Herio as he got astride Gwynt with Hubba Hubba gaping aghast and three merrily twittering sparrows. They sauntered back through the orchard, pausing long enough to scrape his crowns out of the rotted out hollow in the old tree.

  “'Good to my bird?' 'Good to my bird?' You think a knot on my very knitty box, big as my eye, is good to your bird? And what righteous damage, may I ask, did you do in order to be good unto them...?”

  Chapter 126

  “Well then,” said Dr. Erwan with a flicker of smile to hide his pity, as he laid out his tools, “let's get these bandages off you, Yann-Ber.” He gave a deep sigh as he looked for a place to begin.

  “I'm ready,” said Yann-Ber as though he had something cheerful to look forward to. “I know I've just found out about having a son, but I'm not altogether ready to be a mummy. I mean, I'll be stuck with that soon enough...”

  “Powerful case of irony you've got there,” said Erwan as he took a deep breath and straightened up. He closed his eyes for a moment and went back to his task, carefully pulling away and winding up wads of bandage. He paused to see if a gust of wind had blown in rain before resuming once more.

  “You're a good fellow,” said Yann-Ber. “You seem to be having a harder time with this than I am.”

  “I can't imagine how...”

  “Oh, I can. You hate losing patients.”

  “You'd better believe it.”

  “Well, it's all right...”

  “What?”

  “I mean it's not your fault that you can't possibly heal me. Nobody in the world can unless, he'd be some very powerful wizard. You know, someone able to take on 'colossal witches,' to use your term. I'm sorry. T
his doesn't seem to be cheering you, but at least be aware that I adjusted to being hideously disfigured some time ago, and no matter how I come out of these bandages, I already accept it, even if others aren't quite able to.”

  “Well, thank you. I just wish there was a way to make a difference...”

  “But both of us truly know better, so let's put it behind us,” said Yann-Ber with a wince at a particularly sticky length of cloth being yanked free. “However, you've treated me very well and have eased me through my wild ride on the emperor's rock, and I thank you for your care and attention. And as much as I detested your sleeping potions, I feel far more rested than I have in ages. In fact, actually managing to get rest for once seems to be the greatest help of all for my endless pain.”

  “Well, I can certainly have the nurse supply you with all that you need.”

  “Does this mean I can get out of this awful bed and get dressed now?” he said.

  “Certainly.”

  “Then I wish to use every moment I have,” he said as he eased out of bed and hurriedly found his clothes. A flash of lightning and a gust of breeze along with the thunder which followed washed his window sill glistening wet. He smiled and closed the door behind him and set off to find Rose and Fuzz.

  ***

  “How come people want to eat me every time I'm a stinkin' crow?” rattled Hubba Hubba as he got settled next to the brim of Herio's hat. “Nobody wants to eat me when I'm a parrot.”

  “I don't know,” tweeted Squeak as he bounced along in the air beside them, “but probably 'cause no one's got any appetite, then...”

  “Yea!” chirped Tweet. “They probably wouldn't want something that's gone all green and yellow. Smell doesn't have anything to do with it...”

  “Hey!” cawed Hubba Hubba with a mighty clack of his beak. “You think this is funny? How would you like it if someone beaned you on the head? How would you like it if they put you in a box, aye? How would you like to be skinned and eat for supper? And how would you like it if not only would your friends not avenge your murder, they thought it was bloomin' funny all over the place, hunh?”