During the many homes that Peggy Powler had been invited into, she'd seen ornate furniture that would make one gasp
and some that might turn a person's stomach. But in the library of Judge Benjamin Stoddard, it was the carving of the
woodwork that really caught the little Witch's eye.
With a chisel of a true carpenter, a spiral staircase made from the finest of oak corkscrewed up to where the vast shelves
of books waited and each spindle of the balustrade held a drama that one could follow when viewed from bottom-to-top.
Serpents and well-endowed maidens raced around the highly-polished stems with gallant knights on mane-flared steeds
waiting to slay the beast and take the beautiful token. The right-hand newel post was a hunched wizard ruminating at a
perfectly hewn sphere of rare Wistman's oak and on the left side, a brooding horned-Devil waiting to tempt anyone who
ascended the carpeted steps with the gift of knowledge.
The Last Witch of Underhill's fingers caressed the smooth glossy surfaces of each sentinel whilst the retired magistrate
hailed his servant to bring his guest and himself hot drinks. The high doors made from wood matching the athenaeum
opened and dressing-gown-wearing Ben Stoddard found a sorceress beguiled by the high quality of a great craftsman.
"I know..." he agreed, "it catches my breath from time-to-time" and moved slowly over to where a roaring fire painted
shifting shapes on the far wall. "Alas, the fine woodworking was here when I bought the house..." he informed the
marvelling Mage, "...this finery was of the previous owner's aspirations".
Accepting the polite offer to sit in a chair surely built for a giant, Peggy glanced back at the pair of guardians of Judge
Stoddard's tomes and saw how the flames also caused the wooden wizard's eyebrows to sink deeper in his study of
the orb in his possession and Old Scratch's villainous lips seem to curl with a inner-knowing of those who gazed upon
him.
"Ah' tell thee yer' Honour, that's one canny staircase..." the Last Witch of Underhill exclaimed softly "...me-hearts says
yon diviner looks the spitting-image of Myrddin" she appended as she was almost consumed by the softest cushion she
had ever plonked her backside on. "Whey, yer' bug..." she began and caught herself as a tall narrow-face man entered
the room with a silver tray bearing two large mugs. "Sir, your nightcaps" he stated primly and cast a glance of disfavour
towards his master's guest.
His name was Flagg and if it hadn't been for a chance passing of Mr Stoddard in his baroque hallway, the Judge's man
wouldn't have let her in. Smiling nicely as she accepted the steaming brew -a look that failed to reach her eyes, Peggy
recalled she benn only a moment away from wiggling her little finger when they had first met and having the conceited
drudge cluck like a chicken. However, for good measure she'd murmured "Thank yer' Flagg" and watched him squirm
as he left.
.................................................................
Peggy had another gratefulness to offer and that was to her host who entertained her with genuine curious questions on
how her search was going and who she believed Willowsgate's executioner was. Ben's interview not only brought new
ideas to the table, but also kept the eyelids of the weary Witch from becoming heavy. But it was during her explanation
of her riddle that really shooed any idea of nodding off in front of the cosy fire and it came of a simple comment from
the genial ex-adjudicator.
"From my past dealings, I and many others realised that foul-play often came from an escalation of events before the
actual act of killing..." the Judge announced. "...Usually, we would discover a trait of cruelty to a animal as the crucial
indicator that a latent murderer was evolving" he added and sipped his frothy-toddy whilst watching the little woman
in the too-big armchair.
A clock that would put the famous timepiece in Bootle Mills to shame, ticked between them as they enjoyed their
drinks and just to keep their parley alive, Stoddard remarked "In your case, you have the antithetical, almost like the
taking of human life wasn't enough for this reprobate to drive its thrill of killing". It was there... like a fly caught in a
spider's web, it fidgeted to avoid Peggy's arrest and finally grasping it in her mind, the awe-struck warlock almost
dropped her mug.
"Eeeeh!" she suddenly breathed loudly as the revelation hit home, "It's not a climb-down from human to oxen because
of excitement, this is about shame..." she hissed and precariously arranging her movements to climb down from the
more-than-comfortable seat with dignity and not pour the dregs of her toddy onto the Judge's fancy rug, Peggy felt
a rush of adrenaline she hadn't entertained in a long time. "This bugger can't help killin', but he can lower the verve
of those who want te' catch him" she said and was about to begin her goodnight blather when Stoddard's well-lined
hand was held up in the air.
"I can see it is possible you have glimpsed your prey's syllogism, Miss Powler..." the Judge asserted with the same
rich round tones he used to speak to the condemned with. "...But why would our crafty culprit take the lives of the
two youngsters in the first place?" he offered and left his gaze of officiousness waiting for an answer. His diminutive
guest's elation drooped a little and she stayed near the armchair. "Maybe they knew... maybe they saw..." Peggy
stumbled in her response and then surrendered to the logic the esteemed magistrate was displaying.
The sculptured chronograph's ticking wasn't tutting, but it certainly gave the flavour of also waiting for a reasonable
rejoinder. The befuddled sorceress gazed at the patterns on the fancy floor covering and scanned her mind for such
a report. "He doesn't want te' kill humans anymore..." Peggy mumbled in her mental foraging "...but then why tek'
Miles Cutler's life?".
Judge Stoddard frowned as a faint shouting came from another room, but as he rose to see what the problem was,
he absently tossed fuel onto his guest's percolating. "The Cutler-boy wasn't the innocent cherub many thought" he
said and hurried towards the tall door.
and some that might turn a person's stomach. But in the library of Judge Benjamin Stoddard, it was the carving of the
woodwork that really caught the little Witch's eye.
With a chisel of a true carpenter, a spiral staircase made from the finest of oak corkscrewed up to where the vast shelves
of books waited and each spindle of the balustrade held a drama that one could follow when viewed from bottom-to-top.
Serpents and well-endowed maidens raced around the highly-polished stems with gallant knights on mane-flared steeds
waiting to slay the beast and take the beautiful token. The right-hand newel post was a hunched wizard ruminating at a
perfectly hewn sphere of rare Wistman's oak and on the left side, a brooding horned-Devil waiting to tempt anyone who
ascended the carpeted steps with the gift of knowledge.
The Last Witch of Underhill's fingers caressed the smooth glossy surfaces of each sentinel whilst the retired magistrate
hailed his servant to bring his guest and himself hot drinks. The high doors made from wood matching the athenaeum
opened and dressing-gown-wearing Ben Stoddard found a sorceress beguiled by the high quality of a great craftsman.
"I know..." he agreed, "it catches my breath from time-to-time" and moved slowly over to where a roaring fire painted
shifting shapes on the far wall. "Alas, the fine woodworking was here when I bought the house..." he informed the
marvelling Mage, "...this finery was of the previous owner's aspirations".
Accepting the polite offer to sit in a chair surely built for a giant, Peggy glanced back at the pair of guardians of Judge
Stoddard's tomes and saw how the flames also caused the wooden wizard's eyebrows to sink deeper in his study of
the orb in his possession and Old Scratch's villainous lips seem to curl with a inner-knowing of those who gazed upon
him.
"Ah' tell thee yer' Honour, that's one canny staircase..." the Last Witch of Underhill exclaimed softly "...me-hearts says
yon diviner looks the spitting-image of Myrddin" she appended as she was almost consumed by the softest cushion she
had ever plonked her backside on. "Whey, yer' bug..." she began and caught herself as a tall narrow-face man entered
the room with a silver tray bearing two large mugs. "Sir, your nightcaps" he stated primly and cast a glance of disfavour
towards his master's guest.
His name was Flagg and if it hadn't been for a chance passing of Mr Stoddard in his baroque hallway, the Judge's man
wouldn't have let her in. Smiling nicely as she accepted the steaming brew -a look that failed to reach her eyes, Peggy
recalled she benn only a moment away from wiggling her little finger when they had first met and having the conceited
drudge cluck like a chicken. However, for good measure she'd murmured "Thank yer' Flagg" and watched him squirm
as he left.
.................................................................
Peggy had another gratefulness to offer and that was to her host who entertained her with genuine curious questions on
how her search was going and who she believed Willowsgate's executioner was. Ben's interview not only brought new
ideas to the table, but also kept the eyelids of the weary Witch from becoming heavy. But it was during her explanation
of her riddle that really shooed any idea of nodding off in front of the cosy fire and it came of a simple comment from
the genial ex-adjudicator.
"From my past dealings, I and many others realised that foul-play often came from an escalation of events before the
actual act of killing..." the Judge announced. "...Usually, we would discover a trait of cruelty to a animal as the crucial
indicator that a latent murderer was evolving" he added and sipped his frothy-toddy whilst watching the little woman
in the too-big armchair.
A clock that would put the famous timepiece in Bootle Mills to shame, ticked between them as they enjoyed their
drinks and just to keep their parley alive, Stoddard remarked "In your case, you have the antithetical, almost like the
taking of human life wasn't enough for this reprobate to drive its thrill of killing". It was there... like a fly caught in a
spider's web, it fidgeted to avoid Peggy's arrest and finally grasping it in her mind, the awe-struck warlock almost
dropped her mug.
"Eeeeh!" she suddenly breathed loudly as the revelation hit home, "It's not a climb-down from human to oxen because
of excitement, this is about shame..." she hissed and precariously arranging her movements to climb down from the
more-than-comfortable seat with dignity and not pour the dregs of her toddy onto the Judge's fancy rug, Peggy felt
a rush of adrenaline she hadn't entertained in a long time. "This bugger can't help killin', but he can lower the verve
of those who want te' catch him" she said and was about to begin her goodnight blather when Stoddard's well-lined
hand was held up in the air.
"I can see it is possible you have glimpsed your prey's syllogism, Miss Powler..." the Judge asserted with the same
rich round tones he used to speak to the condemned with. "...But why would our crafty culprit take the lives of the
two youngsters in the first place?" he offered and left his gaze of officiousness waiting for an answer. His diminutive
guest's elation drooped a little and she stayed near the armchair. "Maybe they knew... maybe they saw..." Peggy
stumbled in her response and then surrendered to the logic the esteemed magistrate was displaying.
The sculptured chronograph's ticking wasn't tutting, but it certainly gave the flavour of also waiting for a reasonable
rejoinder. The befuddled sorceress gazed at the patterns on the fancy floor covering and scanned her mind for such
a report. "He doesn't want te' kill humans anymore..." Peggy mumbled in her mental foraging "...but then why tek'
Miles Cutler's life?".
Judge Stoddard frowned as a faint shouting came from another room, but as he rose to see what the problem was,
he absently tossed fuel onto his guest's percolating. "The Cutler-boy wasn't the innocent cherub many thought" he
said and hurried towards the tall door.
Read The TV Guide, yer' don't need a TV.