The coolness of the morning brought a freshness that Peggy Powler felt she really needed considering her agitated
sleep last night and standing at the garden gate of her friend's house, the little Witch allowed the light sharpness in
the air to help in clearing the cobwebs around her thoughts.
When dawn had finally arrived, Phineas Stappen had gone to borrow the horse and cart from Edmund Munday and
after talking during a nibbled-at breakfast, received his instructions from his guest who seemed in a hurry to be on
the road. Glancing out of the window towards the little lane that led to Puddledown, the old Shoemaker could see
that Peggy was harried and refilling her cup, asked her what was was troubling her.
"We need te' travel towards Brennan County when we set off, Phineas..." she muttered as she sipped her brew and
fidgeted with the table cloth. "...When yer' return with the ride, we'll go out of Puddledown the way Ah' come in" she
continued in a bitter tone her host had never heard before.
Whatever was out there had really got under Peggy's skin, Phineas thought and knew that was a very rare state for
the eminent Last Witch of Underhill. For many years -years that the Cobbler had travelled with a lesser fee than the
middle-aged woman swaying her bare legs on the too-high chair had paid, those who knew of the august sorceress
had always settled with the notion that she carried a confidence like no other. The word 'flustered' was never used in
the same sentence where the Witch's name was mentioned.
"Aye" Peggy whispered and answered a thought that would remain unsaid over her hardly-touched slice of toast.
...................................................
As a Blackbird trilled its territorial tune, the overtly suspicious magician waited with an itchy patience that bordered
on fretfulness. Precious time was passing and Peggy felt her unwanted dawdling was something she couldn't afford.
Straightening her poncho and adjusting the strap of her satchel again, the waiting for Phineas' return seemed to be
submerged in thick winter-blessed treacle.
"Come on fella" she growled softly and turning her head back towards Puddledown, almost missed the top of a dark
-green hat appearing on the other side of the wall opposite to where she was waiting. Almost sighing with the relief
of something to do, Peggy walked slowly over to the stone barrier and kept her demeanour of someone tolerantly
waiting for a friend.
Finley Teasel kept his voice down to a whisper as he explained his situation and from what the Brownie said, the little
Witch's anger of the Puddledown Beast only heightened. Something she could've done without with right now.
"It tore my door off, last night..." Finley related to his fellow-Fae woman slouching against the wall and seemingly idly
staring up the lane towards the village. "...That damned wolf never dug in after me, it just wrecked my door" he added
and heard Peggy tut her answer.
A second or two passed between them before the concealed Silkie spoke again and this time it wasn't a complaint.
"When you vanquish the bastard and bring it low, give it an extra kick from me, will you?" Finley hissed with a slight lilt
of hopefulness in his voice. If there was ever a time when the disgruntled Brownie believed a pledge was absolute, the
restless Witch's response out-trumped that instance. "Yer' can bet yer' long-johns, Ah' will".
...................................................
The journey was a form of relief to both Phineas and Peggy. The driver of the two-wheeled buggy welcomed in the quiet
of the Summer-drenched countryside, whilst his passenger absorbed the release of being back on the road. From time
to time, Phineas would point out places that he'd visited on his walks before the furry devil's haunting of Puddledown and
with a companionable interest, Peggy had kept herself from her earlier brain-fog by asking further about the locations.
It was during one of these light-hearted chats that Phineas mentioned a slim rarely-visited track that spurred off Calder's
Way and meandered between the many surrounding woods and the cereal-heavy farmland. "...It was the year after I first
moved here..." he informed the little woman beside him, "...I actually walked almost all the way back to Summertide and
I guess the lane is on an old ley-line or something" the retired Cobbler nonchalantly assumed and squinted as the buggy
emerged from beneath a group of large oaks into the bright sunlight.
Peggy's eyes didn't rebound from the shade but instead, her flinty-gaze disclosed a sudden thought that was like a faint
voice she'd hadn't heard in a long time. She was starting to feel like her old self again. "A ley-line yer' say...? Whey, we'd
better tek' a look at it, me-good friend" the little Witch suggested with a full-throated voice of congeniality and a amicable
nudge of her elbow.
...................................................
The nodding horse seemed untroubled by the bumpy terrain of the forgotten lane, but as Peggy folded the slim cushion
beneath her to dowse the impacts from the rutted track, she guessed the journey probably wasn't doing the cart any good.
With a mouthed spell, the smiling Witch ducked under another approaching branch and quietly urged the thin spokes of
the wheels to remain in favourable health.
"Not much traffic!" she joked to her companion as they bounced along the overgrown trail that dogged the mystical artery
of magnetism. It was just as Phineas agreed with the jovial bare-footed Witch that he suddenly felt a shift in the warm air
between them. The ride had been pleasant up until that point and he'd assumed the change in the route had just been to
cheer them both up, but now he sensed Peggy's suggestion was developing into something more than a refreshing day
out in the countryside.
"By Herne's ragged-antlers, there's the bugger!" Peggy exclaimed and without so much as a by your leave to the confused
man at her side, leapt from the cart and began running towards the remains of two gate-posts stood sentry-like to a field
where a sea of barley swayed in the noon breeze. Believing that the scampering ass-showing spellbinder wasn't choosing
place to have their lunch, Phineas Stappen was slowly becoming aware that his friend's strange ability to find a way out
of a puzzle had regained its former power.
With a smile of hope for the bantam Witch , the former cordwainer of Horton's Glebe disembarked from the cart and after
tethering the horse to one of the gnarled uprights, jogged to where Peggy was hunting through the tall grass that edged
along the field of cereal grain.
They'd hidden the grave well. Far off, the church clock of Hexham chimed midday and the clapper tolled the final note,
the woman who'd been merely a teenager when she'd spoken to the encased head of the one beneath the unkept plot
of sod, looked again on the final resting-place of the uncanny creature that could think like a man.
"Sepulcrum Impiorum" Peggy whispered as she stared at the mound concealed in the undergrowth and as Phineas
arrived beside her, he asked her between gasping for air to repeat the strange words. The little Witch looked up at her
friend and her features told him what they had originally set-out to search for, had been found.
"Grave of the Wicked, my friend..." she said with words that dripped with dread. "...Grave of the Wicked".
sleep last night and standing at the garden gate of her friend's house, the little Witch allowed the light sharpness in
the air to help in clearing the cobwebs around her thoughts.
When dawn had finally arrived, Phineas Stappen had gone to borrow the horse and cart from Edmund Munday and
after talking during a nibbled-at breakfast, received his instructions from his guest who seemed in a hurry to be on
the road. Glancing out of the window towards the little lane that led to Puddledown, the old Shoemaker could see
that Peggy was harried and refilling her cup, asked her what was was troubling her.
"We need te' travel towards Brennan County when we set off, Phineas..." she muttered as she sipped her brew and
fidgeted with the table cloth. "...When yer' return with the ride, we'll go out of Puddledown the way Ah' come in" she
continued in a bitter tone her host had never heard before.
Whatever was out there had really got under Peggy's skin, Phineas thought and knew that was a very rare state for
the eminent Last Witch of Underhill. For many years -years that the Cobbler had travelled with a lesser fee than the
middle-aged woman swaying her bare legs on the too-high chair had paid, those who knew of the august sorceress
had always settled with the notion that she carried a confidence like no other. The word 'flustered' was never used in
the same sentence where the Witch's name was mentioned.
"Aye" Peggy whispered and answered a thought that would remain unsaid over her hardly-touched slice of toast.
...................................................
As a Blackbird trilled its territorial tune, the overtly suspicious magician waited with an itchy patience that bordered
on fretfulness. Precious time was passing and Peggy felt her unwanted dawdling was something she couldn't afford.
Straightening her poncho and adjusting the strap of her satchel again, the waiting for Phineas' return seemed to be
submerged in thick winter-blessed treacle.
"Come on fella" she growled softly and turning her head back towards Puddledown, almost missed the top of a dark
-green hat appearing on the other side of the wall opposite to where she was waiting. Almost sighing with the relief
of something to do, Peggy walked slowly over to the stone barrier and kept her demeanour of someone tolerantly
waiting for a friend.
Finley Teasel kept his voice down to a whisper as he explained his situation and from what the Brownie said, the little
Witch's anger of the Puddledown Beast only heightened. Something she could've done without with right now.
"It tore my door off, last night..." Finley related to his fellow-Fae woman slouching against the wall and seemingly idly
staring up the lane towards the village. "...That damned wolf never dug in after me, it just wrecked my door" he added
and heard Peggy tut her answer.
A second or two passed between them before the concealed Silkie spoke again and this time it wasn't a complaint.
"When you vanquish the bastard and bring it low, give it an extra kick from me, will you?" Finley hissed with a slight lilt
of hopefulness in his voice. If there was ever a time when the disgruntled Brownie believed a pledge was absolute, the
restless Witch's response out-trumped that instance. "Yer' can bet yer' long-johns, Ah' will".
...................................................
The journey was a form of relief to both Phineas and Peggy. The driver of the two-wheeled buggy welcomed in the quiet
of the Summer-drenched countryside, whilst his passenger absorbed the release of being back on the road. From time
to time, Phineas would point out places that he'd visited on his walks before the furry devil's haunting of Puddledown and
with a companionable interest, Peggy had kept herself from her earlier brain-fog by asking further about the locations.
It was during one of these light-hearted chats that Phineas mentioned a slim rarely-visited track that spurred off Calder's
Way and meandered between the many surrounding woods and the cereal-heavy farmland. "...It was the year after I first
moved here..." he informed the little woman beside him, "...I actually walked almost all the way back to Summertide and
I guess the lane is on an old ley-line or something" the retired Cobbler nonchalantly assumed and squinted as the buggy
emerged from beneath a group of large oaks into the bright sunlight.
Peggy's eyes didn't rebound from the shade but instead, her flinty-gaze disclosed a sudden thought that was like a faint
voice she'd hadn't heard in a long time. She was starting to feel like her old self again. "A ley-line yer' say...? Whey, we'd
better tek' a look at it, me-good friend" the little Witch suggested with a full-throated voice of congeniality and a amicable
nudge of her elbow.
...................................................
The nodding horse seemed untroubled by the bumpy terrain of the forgotten lane, but as Peggy folded the slim cushion
beneath her to dowse the impacts from the rutted track, she guessed the journey probably wasn't doing the cart any good.
With a mouthed spell, the smiling Witch ducked under another approaching branch and quietly urged the thin spokes of
the wheels to remain in favourable health.
"Not much traffic!" she joked to her companion as they bounced along the overgrown trail that dogged the mystical artery
of magnetism. It was just as Phineas agreed with the jovial bare-footed Witch that he suddenly felt a shift in the warm air
between them. The ride had been pleasant up until that point and he'd assumed the change in the route had just been to
cheer them both up, but now he sensed Peggy's suggestion was developing into something more than a refreshing day
out in the countryside.
"By Herne's ragged-antlers, there's the bugger!" Peggy exclaimed and without so much as a by your leave to the confused
man at her side, leapt from the cart and began running towards the remains of two gate-posts stood sentry-like to a field
where a sea of barley swayed in the noon breeze. Believing that the scampering ass-showing spellbinder wasn't choosing
place to have their lunch, Phineas Stappen was slowly becoming aware that his friend's strange ability to find a way out
of a puzzle had regained its former power.
With a smile of hope for the bantam Witch , the former cordwainer of Horton's Glebe disembarked from the cart and after
tethering the horse to one of the gnarled uprights, jogged to where Peggy was hunting through the tall grass that edged
along the field of cereal grain.
They'd hidden the grave well. Far off, the church clock of Hexham chimed midday and the clapper tolled the final note,
the woman who'd been merely a teenager when she'd spoken to the encased head of the one beneath the unkept plot
of sod, looked again on the final resting-place of the uncanny creature that could think like a man.
"Sepulcrum Impiorum" Peggy whispered as she stared at the mound concealed in the undergrowth and as Phineas
arrived beside her, he asked her between gasping for air to repeat the strange words. The little Witch looked up at her
friend and her features told him what they had originally set-out to search for, had been found.
"Grave of the Wicked, my friend..." she said with words that dripped with dread. "...Grave of the Wicked".
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.