04-29-2022, 09:36 PM
"...Nor me" agreed Pip Farnby and looked again at what had happened while they slept, even the small windows of
the tack-room had been cleaned to the point that they sparkled. Farra Combs turned back from his own examination
of the strange overnight event and waited for his boss' point of view.
"And you're sure you heard nothing?" Stanley Dawes asked again as he kept his hazel-eyes on the immaculate stables
of the three horses and scratched his head under his flat-cap in . The doors looked like they'd had a fresh lick of paint
and -the year-round cobwebs that had resided under the guttering had gone. Fidgeting in the pockets of his waistcoat,
Stanley wondered to himself whether this was the work of that bare-footed scallywag who came into the yard yesterday.
Pip finished his own inspection and then without a word, walked-off to look around the corner where the manure was piled
before Thomas Canning -a local farmer, came to collect it. Sure enough, the dung had been heaped into a neat pile that
almost was pyramid-shaped. This wasn't the work of any ghostly muck-stealer he thought with some mirth, but straightened
his face as he heard large hobnail boots approaching behind him.
Arriving behind the small stable-lad, Stanley stared and resumed his search in his canvas vest. "It's a stumper for sure" he
mumbled and then stared out into the morning mist along the track that led to his property. A little shape was appearing from
the brume. "You two get on with your work, take the horses out for a run" the owner of said-acreage said firmly, but kept his
gaze on the waddling figure in the large hat. "Leave Diabolus in his stall..." he called over his shoulder."...I've got a deal to
settle" he added in a faint enough voice that Pip and Farra couldn't hear him.
...................................................
Peggy Powler grinned at the man with the broad shoulders and tightly-curled hair as he repeated his warning that next time
she trespassed on his land, he'd get his old crossbow and send her on her way with a bolt in her backside. She could see
Stanley Dawes' annoyance of being held accountable for his words coming off him in waves. "You had no right sneaking in
here and scaring my livestock..." he said loudly "...what if Diabolus had stomped you to death, huh?" he added pretentiously.
The Last Witch of Underhill nodded understandingly and softy replied "but he didn't, did he?" and raised her lesser-hairy
eyebrows than the Stable-owner to give him a clue to what may lay ahead. Stanley was about to spit onto the swept-clean
cobbles, when he thought better of it. This woman wasn't buying his faux-anger.
A rook passing overhead agreed with the false presentation of Dawes' pique and cawed its opinion on the matter, Peggy
was sure the comment wasn't lost on the fellow who had made a deal and now trying to get out from under it.
"It's a stumper fur' sure that yon stables got cleaned, but if Ah' recall..." Peggy looked skywards as if attempting to pull the
exact words from the firmament."...Yer' mentioned yesterday something about if it happened, yer'd leave the copse alone"
the smiling Witch responded. "Do yer' remember yer' words, Mister Dawes?" This last query was heavily weighted with
sarcasm, although Peggy's face projected features similar to an irreproachable cherub happily binding an olive garland
with a backdrop of empyrean wonderment.
Stanley felt the chess-pieces moving and it was on his own board -for Herne's sake! He'd only said it to get rid of the... that
was when what the diminutive sorceress had said earlier struck him. Somehow, this scruffy-looking midnight-cleaner had
entered Diabolus' stall and hadn't been attacked, not a bruising bite or even a skin-flayed shin.
A vague counter-plan began to form under the thumb-greased headwear of Stanley Dawes as he slowly surveyed the little
bare-footed minx. "Yes, I remember" he answered absently as his thoughts clicked into some sort of order.
"Miss Powler..." Stanley said in a tone entirely different from his tirade earlier, "...I said what I said in a fit of rage over what
I'm currently struggling with. I know the overgrown area is important to you -just as I also know that you believe in such things
as Pixies. Please, if you can help me deal with my dilemma, I vow that no harm will befall that untamed piece of my land as
long as I'm alive."
The horse trainer took off his cap, stooped slightly and chanced an earnest face to boost his statement. As the mist began
to burn off with the sun breaking through the transparent vapour, Stanley scanned the pondering in his yard to see if so-called
Witch would take the bait?
It never stops -Peggy thought to herself. Pommer's folk had been open and honest about the danger they'd overheard from
the man who raced horses around the home. There was no conniving or secondary goal, just a wish to be left alone and leave
Stanley and his business alone. But here... here in the human world, the double-dealing scheming is alive and well, alive -and
in Stanley Dawes' case, not very well presented.
"Mister Dawes, all Diabolus needs is to trust..." Peggy said softly, "...he's highly-strung because he was taken from his mother
far-too early and even though he's a winner in me-own books, the hoss struggles with trust. Can yer' ken what Ah' mean, Mister
Dawes?" The angelic-looking Witch was almost at checkmate and Stanley knew it. Maybe tonight -he thought, that pile of horse
shit will magically appear in his front-room with a note attached suggesting he should eat it.
"Okay lady, you win. The copse won't be touched and you have my word on it" Stanley grunted resignedly and subconsciously
reaching into his weskit pocket, he stood erect and turned away from the stunted necromancer to get on with his failing business.
Precisely four steps were all those big boots took before he heard the Witch ask "Mister Dawes... who is Lord Tatem?"
the tack-room had been cleaned to the point that they sparkled. Farra Combs turned back from his own examination
of the strange overnight event and waited for his boss' point of view.
"And you're sure you heard nothing?" Stanley Dawes asked again as he kept his hazel-eyes on the immaculate stables
of the three horses and scratched his head under his flat-cap in . The doors looked like they'd had a fresh lick of paint
and -the year-round cobwebs that had resided under the guttering had gone. Fidgeting in the pockets of his waistcoat,
Stanley wondered to himself whether this was the work of that bare-footed scallywag who came into the yard yesterday.
Pip finished his own inspection and then without a word, walked-off to look around the corner where the manure was piled
before Thomas Canning -a local farmer, came to collect it. Sure enough, the dung had been heaped into a neat pile that
almost was pyramid-shaped. This wasn't the work of any ghostly muck-stealer he thought with some mirth, but straightened
his face as he heard large hobnail boots approaching behind him.
Arriving behind the small stable-lad, Stanley stared and resumed his search in his canvas vest. "It's a stumper for sure" he
mumbled and then stared out into the morning mist along the track that led to his property. A little shape was appearing from
the brume. "You two get on with your work, take the horses out for a run" the owner of said-acreage said firmly, but kept his
gaze on the waddling figure in the large hat. "Leave Diabolus in his stall..." he called over his shoulder."...I've got a deal to
settle" he added in a faint enough voice that Pip and Farra couldn't hear him.
...................................................
Peggy Powler grinned at the man with the broad shoulders and tightly-curled hair as he repeated his warning that next time
she trespassed on his land, he'd get his old crossbow and send her on her way with a bolt in her backside. She could see
Stanley Dawes' annoyance of being held accountable for his words coming off him in waves. "You had no right sneaking in
here and scaring my livestock..." he said loudly "...what if Diabolus had stomped you to death, huh?" he added pretentiously.
The Last Witch of Underhill nodded understandingly and softy replied "but he didn't, did he?" and raised her lesser-hairy
eyebrows than the Stable-owner to give him a clue to what may lay ahead. Stanley was about to spit onto the swept-clean
cobbles, when he thought better of it. This woman wasn't buying his faux-anger.
A rook passing overhead agreed with the false presentation of Dawes' pique and cawed its opinion on the matter, Peggy
was sure the comment wasn't lost on the fellow who had made a deal and now trying to get out from under it.
"It's a stumper fur' sure that yon stables got cleaned, but if Ah' recall..." Peggy looked skywards as if attempting to pull the
exact words from the firmament."...Yer' mentioned yesterday something about if it happened, yer'd leave the copse alone"
the smiling Witch responded. "Do yer' remember yer' words, Mister Dawes?" This last query was heavily weighted with
sarcasm, although Peggy's face projected features similar to an irreproachable cherub happily binding an olive garland
with a backdrop of empyrean wonderment.
Stanley felt the chess-pieces moving and it was on his own board -for Herne's sake! He'd only said it to get rid of the... that
was when what the diminutive sorceress had said earlier struck him. Somehow, this scruffy-looking midnight-cleaner had
entered Diabolus' stall and hadn't been attacked, not a bruising bite or even a skin-flayed shin.
A vague counter-plan began to form under the thumb-greased headwear of Stanley Dawes as he slowly surveyed the little
bare-footed minx. "Yes, I remember" he answered absently as his thoughts clicked into some sort of order.
"Miss Powler..." Stanley said in a tone entirely different from his tirade earlier, "...I said what I said in a fit of rage over what
I'm currently struggling with. I know the overgrown area is important to you -just as I also know that you believe in such things
as Pixies. Please, if you can help me deal with my dilemma, I vow that no harm will befall that untamed piece of my land as
long as I'm alive."
The horse trainer took off his cap, stooped slightly and chanced an earnest face to boost his statement. As the mist began
to burn off with the sun breaking through the transparent vapour, Stanley scanned the pondering in his yard to see if so-called
Witch would take the bait?
It never stops -Peggy thought to herself. Pommer's folk had been open and honest about the danger they'd overheard from
the man who raced horses around the home. There was no conniving or secondary goal, just a wish to be left alone and leave
Stanley and his business alone. But here... here in the human world, the double-dealing scheming is alive and well, alive -and
in Stanley Dawes' case, not very well presented.
"Mister Dawes, all Diabolus needs is to trust..." Peggy said softly, "...he's highly-strung because he was taken from his mother
far-too early and even though he's a winner in me-own books, the hoss struggles with trust. Can yer' ken what Ah' mean, Mister
Dawes?" The angelic-looking Witch was almost at checkmate and Stanley knew it. Maybe tonight -he thought, that pile of horse
shit will magically appear in his front-room with a note attached suggesting he should eat it.
"Okay lady, you win. The copse won't be touched and you have my word on it" Stanley grunted resignedly and subconsciously
reaching into his weskit pocket, he stood erect and turned away from the stunted necromancer to get on with his failing business.
Precisely four steps were all those big boots took before he heard the Witch ask "Mister Dawes... who is Lord Tatem?"
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.