With the warmth from the crackling fire below radiating into the strange eight-sided room above -added with the large
cushion she currently sat on, Peggy Powler slid easily down into a slumber she sorely required. The man called Arthur
Thurgood was no longer with her, he had seen the tired features of his guest and used the weak excuse of taking some
empty crockery away, a task he could've performed at any time.
The large rat-cheese sandwich and tankard of beer had been well received and the few suggestions that Arthur Thurgood
had offered also had been taken onboard. This invader had left no clues that the Gaynestown Police could find and there
own recommendation was that a mad dog might be at large and the wealthy residents should just stay indoors until the
spring arrives. Mister Thurgood -who asked Peggy if she would call him Arthur, believed the killings held a retaliatory-type
of modus operandi, a reason behind the mayhem -as he had put it.
"I'll take it that your journey here left you with little time to sleep..." Arthur had said as he peered out of the window facing
the stark copse at the side of his property. This lookout-like room seemed out of place for a well-born gent and his family
to spend their sunset days, but Peggy's host wasn't cut from such cloth and even though he attempted to hide his roots,
the little woman soaking in the warmth and her recent meal knew he was a man who was at home with those of a lower
class. "Aye, yer' reet there Mister... Arthur, that Calder's Way can take it out of yer' not just by bruisin' yer' backside, but
by keepin' yer awake" the spell-worker agreed and resisted to wipe crumbs form her poncho onto the wooden floor.
There was a comfortable silence between them for a while before the man with the workman's hands walked to one of
the shelves between the windows and told his guest he needed to see to some chores. Peggy smiled and accepted his
real reason was that her red-rimmed eyes told him she was exhausted and picking up the plate and flagon, he quietly
left down the narrow staircase in the centre of the octagonal room. Breathing slowly in her comfortable position, the
little Witch fell asleep.
.................................................................
After leaving the partisan Tully Knapweed to his own devices, the Last Witch of Underhill had found the track back into
Willowsgate and instead of heading for the church or the village square to announce her arrival, the sight of the renovated
cottage through the tall hedgerow tickled her thoughts as she pondered how to set about solving this mystery.
All the other homes looked a little too pretentious for Peggy's liking and she believed the sight of a bare-footed woman
carrying a bag and ambling up any of these fancy entryways would not help in seeking relevant information and probably
result in a hurried spell to deter ravenous dogs released from their kennels. No, the plain path to the bonnie cottage was
the answer -she abdicated and maybe a chat with some of the help that worked there
The wide wings that had been added onto the once-homestead building were identical except for the stretch of rooms that
faced the forest that threatened to seep into the spaces between the respective properties. Peggy realised it was one of
these wooded avenues she had sauntered into when she'd discovered Knapweed's home and possibly one the corridors
of travel for whatever had shaken the affluent neighbourhood of Willowsgate.
To all intents and purposes, this pretty cottage had a guard tower. A multi-sided belfry with windows and designed so that
it didn't look to out of place with the rest of the residence. The shingles matched those on the roof of the main house along
with the walls and approaching the high oak door of the home, this wooden minaret disappeared from Peggy's view.
It was only after a cautious lady in a long gown of expensive material had answered the necromancer's knock and the fast
appearance of her husband to allay his wife's doubts on who the scruffy visitor was, did the full understanding of why such
a strange add-on to the home had been constructed.
Arthur Thurgood had seen his new guest when the little figure had first stepped onto the road from the woodlot across from
his house. Eating her fare, Peggy had listened as the easy-going fellow in attire that seemed to struggle to look comfortable
on him, offered his reason why he'd built such a turret. Some might say that Arthur should've curbed his private perception
of how he and Willowsgate were not quite on the same page in regards of societal-settings and others could've suggested
it was possibly too-adventurous for intimate revelations to be so easily to a stranger. But like-finds-like says Peggy Powler
and Arthur's confession was from the heart, another factor that warmed her as she snoozed.
.................................................................
It was dark outside when Peggy's eyes opened, but the wavering flame of a candlestick on one of the shelves gave enough
illumination to show that Arthur Thurgood had returned during her repose. A large bowl of warm water and a some cloths
lay on the floor close to where the stairs descended. The Witch corrected herself as she smacked her dry lips from her
sleep. The materials were towels, people in homes like this one used towels to dry themselves and hence, the reason for
the small cousin of Piggs Wheeler's metal porringer.
If what Tully Knapweed had said was true, a fiendish Wulpos might be -at that very moment in a tall tree nearby, gazing
over at an undressed figure washing herself in a weird tower stuck on a cottage. But briskly drying herself and donning her
weathered poncho, that now-refreshed warlock would strongly advise said-voyeur to be on its guard for a nemesis has come
to Willowsgate and she didn't give a bugger about its feelings.
cushion she currently sat on, Peggy Powler slid easily down into a slumber she sorely required. The man called Arthur
Thurgood was no longer with her, he had seen the tired features of his guest and used the weak excuse of taking some
empty crockery away, a task he could've performed at any time.
The large rat-cheese sandwich and tankard of beer had been well received and the few suggestions that Arthur Thurgood
had offered also had been taken onboard. This invader had left no clues that the Gaynestown Police could find and there
own recommendation was that a mad dog might be at large and the wealthy residents should just stay indoors until the
spring arrives. Mister Thurgood -who asked Peggy if she would call him Arthur, believed the killings held a retaliatory-type
of modus operandi, a reason behind the mayhem -as he had put it.
"I'll take it that your journey here left you with little time to sleep..." Arthur had said as he peered out of the window facing
the stark copse at the side of his property. This lookout-like room seemed out of place for a well-born gent and his family
to spend their sunset days, but Peggy's host wasn't cut from such cloth and even though he attempted to hide his roots,
the little woman soaking in the warmth and her recent meal knew he was a man who was at home with those of a lower
class. "Aye, yer' reet there Mister... Arthur, that Calder's Way can take it out of yer' not just by bruisin' yer' backside, but
by keepin' yer awake" the spell-worker agreed and resisted to wipe crumbs form her poncho onto the wooden floor.
There was a comfortable silence between them for a while before the man with the workman's hands walked to one of
the shelves between the windows and told his guest he needed to see to some chores. Peggy smiled and accepted his
real reason was that her red-rimmed eyes told him she was exhausted and picking up the plate and flagon, he quietly
left down the narrow staircase in the centre of the octagonal room. Breathing slowly in her comfortable position, the
little Witch fell asleep.
.................................................................
After leaving the partisan Tully Knapweed to his own devices, the Last Witch of Underhill had found the track back into
Willowsgate and instead of heading for the church or the village square to announce her arrival, the sight of the renovated
cottage through the tall hedgerow tickled her thoughts as she pondered how to set about solving this mystery.
All the other homes looked a little too pretentious for Peggy's liking and she believed the sight of a bare-footed woman
carrying a bag and ambling up any of these fancy entryways would not help in seeking relevant information and probably
result in a hurried spell to deter ravenous dogs released from their kennels. No, the plain path to the bonnie cottage was
the answer -she abdicated and maybe a chat with some of the help that worked there
The wide wings that had been added onto the once-homestead building were identical except for the stretch of rooms that
faced the forest that threatened to seep into the spaces between the respective properties. Peggy realised it was one of
these wooded avenues she had sauntered into when she'd discovered Knapweed's home and possibly one the corridors
of travel for whatever had shaken the affluent neighbourhood of Willowsgate.
To all intents and purposes, this pretty cottage had a guard tower. A multi-sided belfry with windows and designed so that
it didn't look to out of place with the rest of the residence. The shingles matched those on the roof of the main house along
with the walls and approaching the high oak door of the home, this wooden minaret disappeared from Peggy's view.
It was only after a cautious lady in a long gown of expensive material had answered the necromancer's knock and the fast
appearance of her husband to allay his wife's doubts on who the scruffy visitor was, did the full understanding of why such
a strange add-on to the home had been constructed.
Arthur Thurgood had seen his new guest when the little figure had first stepped onto the road from the woodlot across from
his house. Eating her fare, Peggy had listened as the easy-going fellow in attire that seemed to struggle to look comfortable
on him, offered his reason why he'd built such a turret. Some might say that Arthur should've curbed his private perception
of how he and Willowsgate were not quite on the same page in regards of societal-settings and others could've suggested
it was possibly too-adventurous for intimate revelations to be so easily to a stranger. But like-finds-like says Peggy Powler
and Arthur's confession was from the heart, another factor that warmed her as she snoozed.
.................................................................
It was dark outside when Peggy's eyes opened, but the wavering flame of a candlestick on one of the shelves gave enough
illumination to show that Arthur Thurgood had returned during her repose. A large bowl of warm water and a some cloths
lay on the floor close to where the stairs descended. The Witch corrected herself as she smacked her dry lips from her
sleep. The materials were towels, people in homes like this one used towels to dry themselves and hence, the reason for
the small cousin of Piggs Wheeler's metal porringer.
If what Tully Knapweed had said was true, a fiendish Wulpos might be -at that very moment in a tall tree nearby, gazing
over at an undressed figure washing herself in a weird tower stuck on a cottage. But briskly drying herself and donning her
weathered poncho, that now-refreshed warlock would strongly advise said-voyeur to be on its guard for a nemesis has come
to Willowsgate and she didn't give a bugger about its feelings.
Read The TV Guide, yer' don't need a TV.