Hugo and the Bird

by Jeff Mills

  “Look. The amulet doesn’t hurt me because I’m supposed to be related to King Arthur. Right! Then, if I am related to King Arthur then it must also mean that one of my parents is also related. I know my dad is related to that Sir Whathisname who got killed on the JCB, so that means that it must be my mum who is a descendant of King Arthur and that’s why she didn’t get hurt when she touched it.”

  Emma’s eyes widened and she nodded vigorously in agreement. She was about to say something when there was a loud barking at the door and a scratching. She rose and on opening it, in walked Jake looking very dishevelled and headed straight for his food bowl, seemingly oblivious to the concern he had cause. Emma and Hugo looked at each other in astonishment and then ran to tell the grownups that their pet had returned. When they came back into the kitchen the food bowl was clean and the dog was curled up in his basket. He raised one eye, wagged his tail and went to sleep as if nothing had happened. Everyone looked on in stunned amazement and then simultaneously burst into laughter.

  Chapter 41

  The Witness

  “Now! Tell me exactly what you saw and when,”

  D.I. Hyde asked the middle-aged lady sitting in front of him, still dressed as when she had been out walking. She wore an olive green three-quarter length wax coat, a paisley headscarf tied in a neat bow under her chin and a pair of muddy heavy-duty leather walking boots that had obviously seen better days as they bore laces which had several knots tied along their lengths. The lady still held in her hand a thick, platied leather leash but there was no sign of a dog. She explained that she had difficulty in sleeping and often rose early to walk along the cliff path at Hartland Point. “Near the lighthouse,” she added.

  “Bengie, my little dog, a Yorkshire Terrier, you know. Do you have a dog, Inspector? Yorkshire Terriers are lovely animals; you should get one. I have a friend who breeds….”

  D. I. Hyde nodded sympathetically but politely asked the woman to get on with it.

  “Oh, I’m sorry Inspector, but Bengie, he’s my only real friend. Anyway, he loves to have his morning run along the path and at that time of day there isn’t anyone around for him to chase. He loves to chase people and other dogs you know. Bengie had run on ahead and I was walking as fast as I could because I could hear him barking at something. When I rounded the bend in the track just up from the lighthouse, I saw him jumping and barking at two people who were looking over the cliff at something. There were also two dogs with them. At least, at first I thought that they were dogs, but I don’t know if the dim light was playing tricks on me because I was sure that one of them wasn’t a dog but a big cat; black with a large head and what looked like fangs!”

  The inspector stood up and looked quizzically at the constable standing by the door of the interview room, who, in turn, raised his eyebrows.

  “Thank you very much for coming in and helping us in our investigation,” the D.I. said kindly to the woman, who was still gripping and turning the dog leash in her hands. “We will be in touch with you if we need any more information. The officer here will take your details.” He shook the woman’s hand and she slowly left the room but as she got to the doorway she turned and said,

  “Don’t forget, Inspector, if you want a Yorkie then I have a very good acquaintance who breeds them.”

  “Thank you very much, Mrs Archer. If I do, then I will certainly give you a call.”

  The lady smiled and left. As she walked down the corridor she looked around frequently calling out,

  “Bengie. Bengie. Come on boy, Come to Mummy.”

  The Inspector brushed his arm over his forehead and sat back down in his chair with a thump and a loud sigh, muttering,

  “Come on, Bengie. Good boy, Bengie. Get lost, Bengie! The only Yorkie I want is one made out of chocolate.”

  Calling for his sergeant, he ordered him to arrange a visit to the site mentioned by the witness and, as an afterthought, suggested that it might be worthwhile taking a dog handler with him just in case they did find anything.

  He stood up and left the interview room. Turning back towards his office and opening the door, he was greeted by the pile of reports on his desk. Abruptly spinning round, he called to his sergeant, “On second thoughts, fetch the car around and we’ll both go. Still bring the dogs though.” Ten minutes later they were driving down the A39 toward Hartland Point with lights flashing and sirens blaring.

  Chapter 42

  Chicken Pox

  Bragnar eyed Bird suspiciously as he stood before him, surrounded by at least a dozen goblins armed with small spears or daggers.

  Bird had realised that they would not take kindly to him suddenly appearing in their midst, and so he made himself visible when he came to the outskirts of the goblin village near St Austell in Cornwall. Then, apparently casually, he walked into the centre of their camp. He had anticipated a hostile reception and had secreted a sharp dagger in his tail feathers, ‘just in case,’ he told himself.

  He was right about the reception, for within seconds of entering the village he was surrounded by a horde of angry goblins, calling him names and waving their fists at him. They had insisted that he be searched, so he obligingly bent forward so that they could check him but making sure that his tail was up so that they could not reach and find his concealed weapon.

  Bird explained to Bragnar that the witches had disappeared and deserted the goblins following the battle. He promised a peaceful reception if a contingent of goblins returned to collect their dead and injured.

  Instead, the goblin saw an opportunity to still regain some sort of victory and immediately ordered Bird to be tied up and used as a hostage. Before he could make a move to defend himself, dozens of goblins descended on him, throwing ropes, which looked more like string to Bird, around him so that it was impossible for him to move. Bragnar walked around his prisoner, smirking and prodding him with the stick he was carrying.

  Several of the elders of the clan standing around protested, and urged the arrogant goblin to go along with Bird’s offer. They thought it would be a very good opportunity to recover the injured and bodies of their friends and families. However, the pompous character, who had already declared himself leader following the death of Tooker, their former leader, who had been killed in the battle, looked at each of them angrily. One by one, they fell silent.

  “Someone go and tell those stupid gnomes that if they want their precious leader back then they must surrender and give us…” He thought for a while. “Yes, and give us this basket full of gold.”

  He bent down and picked up a basket containing firewood, which he promptly tipped onto the floor, and held it high above his head. The goblins cheered, relishing the thought of getting a share of the ransom but nobody moved at the order to take the message. The goblin chief gazed at those around him but as he looked, they stepped back, unwilling to be the messenger. If the goblins made a hostage of the gnomes’ emissary, then what would stop the gnomes doing the same to the goblins.

  In frustration, Bragnar twirled around and set his eyes on a small female goblin who, up to then, had been completely ignoring what had been going on and was dancing and singing to herself.

  “You there!”

  The youngster twirled, oblivious to the command. One of the others near her touched her on the shoulder and she stopped and looked to see what was going on.

  “You there!” bellowed Bragnar. “What’s your name?”

  The small girl looked confused. “Trinkle, sir,” she said hesitatingly.

  “You will go to the gnomes and deliver this message.”

  Bragnar told her what to say and made her repeat it, so that he was sure that she had it right, and then, still looking very confused, she flew off in the direction of the Gnome Reserve.

  * * *

  High above, soared an irritated seagull and from behind its white head loomed two small eyes.

  *
* *

  Bragnar pulled on the ropes around Bird to make sure that he was firmly bound. Satisfied that his hostage could not escape, he marched off to the hole in an old chestnut tree, which had been made by a woodpecker that Bragnar had chased off when he saw how comfortable the bird had made it.

  As dawn began to rise, the goblins meandered off to their own various hiding places to sleep. Unlike the gnomes, who industriously built their little homes, complete with gardens, the goblins preferred to find old rabbit holes and birds’ nests, which they commandeered from often, very distraught occupants.

  Slowly the goblin domain fell silent as the dawn chorus began, despite it still being quite dark. The trees and bushes became alive with much more industrious and friendly species.

  * * *

  When he felt that it was safe, Bird exhaled as much as he could so that the ropes holding him down would slacken and he could free himself. The plan was going as expected until he realised that the goblins had been far more thorough than he had given them credit for. Try as he might he could not free himself. Looking around, he spied several sparrows flitting in and out of the bushes. He tried to attract their attention but one rope had been wound around his beak and he was unable to give more than a gurgled hum. This had definitely not been the plan and he strained his long neck around to try to reach the dagger in his tail but again no luck.

  Suddenly, he had the strangest feeling, as if something was crawling up his tail and ruffling the feathers. The feeling stopped momentarily and then, to his horror, he felt the dagger being pulled out from his feathers and its hiding place. How had the goblins known that it was there? He desperately tried to move his head to see which one had discovered his concealed weapon but the threads held him fast.

  No sound was heard but he was sure that the ropes were being cut. Yes. One by one he could feel the bonds parting and, as soon as he was able, he turned his head to see who or what was breaking them.

  At first, the only thing he could see was the head of a seagull, looking very angry, with its own beak bound to stop it squawking. Behind it was a very exhausted little gnome. With his free foot, Bird scraped the rope from around his beak and whispered in surprise,

  “Chipper! What in the world are you doing here?”

  The little gnome stopped his sawing at the ropes with the dagger, which was far too big for him to handle, and smiled.

  “I thought that you might need some help,” he squeaked and returned to his task until the final rope fell from his friend.

  Bird was about to admonish the little person, when he noticed a movement coming from the hole that Bragnar had hidden in. Without thinking, Bird grabbed the tiny gnome and threw him onto the back of the very surprised seagull, who immediately took off with a loud flapping and beating of its wings. Bird quickly repositioned himself as if he were still tied up.

  The goblin stood at the entrance of his hole, making sure that he did not become exposed to the sunlight and then, having confirmed that Bird was still his prisoner, he went back inside but there was something strange about him. Bird was not sure what it was and was about to disappear when he heard a loud, or at least it was loud for a goblin, coughing coming from another hole in a log, followed by a mournful moan.

  Almost immediately another sigh was heard, and within minutes there were more coughs and moans coming from all around the encampment. Bird was puzzled and then from under a stone, quite close to him, tumbled a very strange goblin. He tottered around aimlessly, holding his face and then turned towards the place where Bird was standing. He was covered in bright red spots.

  No sooner had Bird noticed this, when another and another came out from their holes and crevices, covered in the same red spots. Finally, Bragnar emerged from his hole in the tree to see what was causing the commotion. He looked around at the sight of moaning and groaning creatures spread before him, their normal grey or blue hue peppered with bright red. He put his hand to his face and winced. He rushed to a puddle in the lane that ran through the centre of the settlement and gasped in horror as he saw that his face was also covered in spots.

  Bird had to resist laughing, as the sight before him looked so ridiculous but as one by one the goblins started to collapse in front of him he realised that this was not funny but very serious. He had no idea what was happening but then a thought flew by him and he remembered seeing Stephanie with exactly the same sort of spots when she and her family came to the reserve to help the gnomes fight off the goblins.

  They had caught chicken pox. For a human it was not too serious, though some people were left permanently scarred, but for a goblin it was, most frequently, fatal. He ran over to Bragnar who gave him a surprised look at seeing him free but then timidly asked, “Help me. Help me, please.”

  Bird looked at him and shrugged. “Hold on. I’ll see what I can do,” and with a shimmer, he disappeared.

  Chapter 43

  A New Body

  Morgana carefully laid out on the stone ledge in front of her the herbs and potions she and Putricia had been able to salvage from the cave at Westward Ho!

  “That woman saw us. I’m sure of it,” Putricia protested. “That stupid dog of hers, we should have killed it,” she insisted, raising her voice.

  “That would have made her search even harder and we are pretty secure here, though I must confess, it’s not as roomy and warm as the other cave or my flat,” countered her sister.

  She suddenly stopped speaking. What did she mean about her flat?

  She had taken over the body of that stupid interfering girl. With the transformation, the memories that the girl had had should have been wiped clean, or so she thought, so how was it that she remembered the flat? There was also something in the back of her mind about a boy but it was so vague that she dismissed it but still she was concerned that some of that girl still lingered in her memory.

  The waves crashed below the entrance to a large cleft in the rocks at Hartland Point, sending spray high into the air.

  The flight from the cave had been rushed and, up to then, the two sisters had not had time to catch up on what had happened, and more especially why Morgana looked like she did.

  Pulling up a small wooden box, Morgana sat down and started to explain to Putricia that, on returning to the old cave one morning, after one of her nightly expeditions, she had discovered that someone had visited her home. On her table she noticed an old book that she had never seen before. It was open at a page covered in writing, scrawled in a very bad, unsteady handwriting. The page contained a formula of herbs and chemicals that, it said, had been used by her grandmother to help patients who suffered high fever. She went on; at the bottom of the page was the recipe for a second mixture, with the instruction to mix both potions together and life could be extended.

  She had searched and searched for the person who had left the book but could find no trace. Puzzled by the recipe, and as an experiment, she had made up the mixture and tested it on a silly little gnome child that she had captured and a rabbit that she had planned to eat for her meal. The effect had been amazing, for as she watched, the gnome seemed to merge into the rabbit so that the two became one. Encouraged by this, she worked and toiled on refining the potion, and just as it was ready, who came to the cave but a stupid young girl.

  “I knew that it was a great risk but the temptation of having a young body again was too much. After making sure that you were safe, I tried the potion out and what you see here is the result.”

  Morgana stood and turned so that Putricia could see her youthful sister.

  “What’s more,” she added, with a note of laughter in her voice, “is that with this body I found that I could now exist in the daylight.”

  “Give it to me! Give it to me!” Putricia clamoured, looking up beseechingly into her sister’s eyes. “Let me see that book.”

  “I can’t,” she said, looking away sadly. “The book and everyth
ing I need is still back in the other cave.”

  “Then we must go and get it,” came the harsh reply. The witch looked at her sister and shook her head.

  “If we go back there then I am certain that we will be discovered and that would be the end of us and our mission. We’re so close to fulfilling it and killing the last of them that risking a return would be stupid. Also, now we know where and who has our inheritance, this must be our first priority.” The picture of a shining twirling gold amulet came into her memory.

  “If you won’t, then I will,” hissed the small black figure and, without another word, she turned to leave but a ray of morning sunshine started to creep into their hiding spot and Putricia realised that she would have to wait or, better still, send her reluctant sister to do the deed for her. However, for the moment, there was a great deal of work and preparation to do to make their new home acceptable, so they both busied themselves, moving and rearranging boxes and bottles.

  All the time Morgana mulled over in her mind who the mysterious person was who had, not only left the book, but invaded her domain without her knowledge.

  Putricia, meanwhile, was planning the things she could do, if only she could get rid of this worn-out shell of a body and find a new young one like her sister.

  Chapter 44

  The Cure

  Bird appeared unannounced in the Bennett’s kitchen. Since they knew of him, there was no point in trying to hide himself anymore. He quickly explained to Mr Bennett about the goblins and the chicken pox outbreak and asked if he could think of anything that might help.

  “There’s not a lot I can suggest but I’ll give my friend, Peter, a call and ask his advice.”

  A minute later he came back and went to his office and took some medicine out of his bag. “These are antibiotics,” he explained to Bird. “Mix one tablet in a cup of water and give them all half a teaspoonful or the equivalent of whatever they use.”