09-03-2021, 09:40 PM
"But... but wouldn't that be too dangerous?" the Bowman woman whispered and subconsciously reached for her apron.
The touch of the fabric of her all-weather coat bought by her husband three winters ago, was her only comforter as she
searched the face of the last Witch of Underhill for support to her question.
Peggy Powler nodded in appreciation of Jane's concerns and without explaining more, gestured that they should leave
the tent.
The afternoon shadows were still short enough to suggest Elijah Cole and his friends would not have felt the calling to
leave Jack Morgan's barrels of ale and seek forty-winks under the surrounding cedars. The noise of merriment had
reduced to cheerful chatter from the mingling adults and mumbled blether from the tired children.
Kittle Heron looked all done-in. She'd left her post during Jane's entry to Peggy's marquee and joined in with the gaiety of
her new-found friends. Guiding her last customer of the day over towards the gate, the smiling Witch recalled Mrs Bowman's
description of the Bitch from the the Otherside and mentally promised herself to make sure the rosy-cheeked young Heron girl
would not be harm's way nor witness the horrible gargoyle that Jane had seen in her sister's mirror.
"Me-ruse was to have the Heron tapestry as bait fur' yer' sister's thief, but Ah've been havin' an idea that Ah' can make it
irresistible fur' the basta... the bugger" Peggy corrected herself and leaned in closer the mousy woman.
"A bit of jam yon demon's muffins -so to speak" she added and winked.
After quickly explaining her scheme to the wide-eyed woman, Peggy went to seek out Kittie Heron, the little Witch's titillation
needed some help.
...................................................
As Peggy dressed into Kittie's sister's clothes, she wondered if her long-dead mother would've approved of such a dangerous
stunt. Pretending to be a girl would work due to her height and hopefully the lateness that Gwydionel the Snatcher would chance
her hand, but there were still many things that could go wrong.
"Yer' Ma divna' know yer' took these clothes, does she?" Peggy called as she straightened the knee-high skirt round her waist.
The blouse felt strange on her skin, but the ankle socks tickled like a Sprite with a sparrow's feather.
Kittie's weary head appeared through the tent flap and for a second, a flood of memories scampered across her mind.
"She never saw me" the young girl said in a slightly distracted way and the preening Witch realised what she was thinking.
"Listen me-lass..." Peggy said softly and approached her drained doorman, "...we're gonna get yer' sister back tonight and
never forget, it's you who made it happen".
They hugged.
...................................................
If you were daring enough to climb one of the cedars and gaze out to the west, one would see the sky was turning from blue to
a faint pinkish-purple. The crowd was thinning as those from the coast began their journey home and Farmer Bulmer's men were
wandering the tents to see if they could dismantle the empty ones. They usually waited until tomorrow, but if there boss showed
up, it was always prudent to look busy and not that they'd frequented Jack Morgan's table.
None of them neared the Fortune Teller's little pavilion.
Peggy kept her poncho over Mary Bretton's borrowed clothes and checked the rope hadn't been tampered with. With a far-too
obvious walk of nonchalance, the Witch took the tapestry behind the tent and after carefully unfurling it, she leaned the beautifully
hand-stitched mural against the back-wall of her place of business.
The pint-sized spellbinder rarely took enjoyment during her tasks of ridding the counties of hellions, but this time she smiled as she
admired the tapestry that was in full view of the doorway that the Bitch of St Martin's would appear and seize another victim.
Namely, Peggy Powler.
The touch of the fabric of her all-weather coat bought by her husband three winters ago, was her only comforter as she
searched the face of the last Witch of Underhill for support to her question.
Peggy Powler nodded in appreciation of Jane's concerns and without explaining more, gestured that they should leave
the tent.
The afternoon shadows were still short enough to suggest Elijah Cole and his friends would not have felt the calling to
leave Jack Morgan's barrels of ale and seek forty-winks under the surrounding cedars. The noise of merriment had
reduced to cheerful chatter from the mingling adults and mumbled blether from the tired children.
Kittle Heron looked all done-in. She'd left her post during Jane's entry to Peggy's marquee and joined in with the gaiety of
her new-found friends. Guiding her last customer of the day over towards the gate, the smiling Witch recalled Mrs Bowman's
description of the Bitch from the the Otherside and mentally promised herself to make sure the rosy-cheeked young Heron girl
would not be harm's way nor witness the horrible gargoyle that Jane had seen in her sister's mirror.
"Me-ruse was to have the Heron tapestry as bait fur' yer' sister's thief, but Ah've been havin' an idea that Ah' can make it
irresistible fur' the basta... the bugger" Peggy corrected herself and leaned in closer the mousy woman.
"A bit of jam yon demon's muffins -so to speak" she added and winked.
After quickly explaining her scheme to the wide-eyed woman, Peggy went to seek out Kittie Heron, the little Witch's titillation
needed some help.
...................................................
As Peggy dressed into Kittie's sister's clothes, she wondered if her long-dead mother would've approved of such a dangerous
stunt. Pretending to be a girl would work due to her height and hopefully the lateness that Gwydionel the Snatcher would chance
her hand, but there were still many things that could go wrong.
"Yer' Ma divna' know yer' took these clothes, does she?" Peggy called as she straightened the knee-high skirt round her waist.
The blouse felt strange on her skin, but the ankle socks tickled like a Sprite with a sparrow's feather.
Kittie's weary head appeared through the tent flap and for a second, a flood of memories scampered across her mind.
"She never saw me" the young girl said in a slightly distracted way and the preening Witch realised what she was thinking.
"Listen me-lass..." Peggy said softly and approached her drained doorman, "...we're gonna get yer' sister back tonight and
never forget, it's you who made it happen".
They hugged.
...................................................
If you were daring enough to climb one of the cedars and gaze out to the west, one would see the sky was turning from blue to
a faint pinkish-purple. The crowd was thinning as those from the coast began their journey home and Farmer Bulmer's men were
wandering the tents to see if they could dismantle the empty ones. They usually waited until tomorrow, but if there boss showed
up, it was always prudent to look busy and not that they'd frequented Jack Morgan's table.
None of them neared the Fortune Teller's little pavilion.
Peggy kept her poncho over Mary Bretton's borrowed clothes and checked the rope hadn't been tampered with. With a far-too
obvious walk of nonchalance, the Witch took the tapestry behind the tent and after carefully unfurling it, she leaned the beautifully
hand-stitched mural against the back-wall of her place of business.
The pint-sized spellbinder rarely took enjoyment during her tasks of ridding the counties of hellions, but this time she smiled as she
admired the tapestry that was in full view of the doorway that the Bitch of St Martin's would appear and seize another victim.
Namely, Peggy Powler.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.