A Fable For Today

This was written decades ago by Jim Shelley, and is the reason Painted Wheel people say things like "Sorry, can't make it tonight, I don't wanna be a bunny killer."

 
It's dark and messed up. You have been warned.

Once there were three rabbits named Bluebell, Daisy and Thistle who lived in a small burrow at the edge of the great woods.

Bluebell was the practical sort who like to find new ways to improve life in the burrows. She was always trying new recipes or rearranging the furniture. Occasionally she would venture out into the great woods to find some new stone or flower with which to decorate the burrow

Daisy was a dreamer who like to sit outside on the edge of the great woods and write poems about what she saw. One time she saw a rainbow and wrote a song about it which she sang while playing a little ukulele.

Thistle was the adventurous type who like to go off on wild adventures the great woods. One time he explored a big cave he found and accidentally woke up Bentley the Bear, who was hibernating at the time. Bentley was very mad at the time, and he was afraid he would not be able to go back to sleep.

Fortunately, Daisy sang him a lullaby about Bears, and Bluebell cooked up some warm milk, so he was able to go back to sleep.

Well, one day Thistle was exploring a new field when he stumbled upon a little mouse. The mouse’s name was Pine Nut. Pine Nut said he was new to the woods and wanted to meet some friends. Thistle said he should come over the next day to the rabbit burrow to meet Bluebell and Daisy. Pine Nut said he would be happy to come over.


Thistle then went home and told Bluebell and Daisy about Pine Nut. Bluebell got very excited and started making all sorts of cookies and deserts. Daisy started thinking of lots of words that rhymed with mouse, so that she would have a poem ready for Pine Nut when he arrived. Thistle got busy cleaning up
 the burrow, so it would be nice and clean when Pine Nut came over. They all stayed up to the wee hours working to get everything just right.

Well, the next morning Pine Nut woke up with a slight cold, but he was so excited about the visiting his new friends that he didn’t think too much about it. Bounding across the field, he came upon the rabbit burrow and knocked on the door. The door flew open and he was greeted by Thistle who shook his hand and invited him in. Once in, Thistle introduced him to Bluebell and Daisy. They all sat down and enjoyed the sumptuous banquet of food Bluebell had prepared for them. Afterwards Daisy recited her poem about the virtues of being a mouse in today’s world. They then told all sorts of stories about Thistles grand adventures in the big woods. When the day drew to a close, Pine Nut bid them goodbye and told them he would see them tomorrow. They all said goodnight to him and watched him scurry out into the field towards home.

Well the next day Pine Nut went to the Rabbit burrow and knocked on the door. He waited and no one showed up. He knocked again. Still no one showed up. Finally he knocked as loud as possible and put his ear to the door. He heard nothing. He tried the door and it was open. He came in and looked around. What greeted his eyes shocked and horrified him.

Bluebell, Daisy and Thistle were all dead. All killed by the very same cold that Pine Nut had dismissed. You see, colds affect rabbits much greater than mice, and poor little Pine Nut had unfortunately signed a death warrant for his new friends when he showed up at their burrow sick. He went home heartbroken and shot himself.


The End.

The moral of this story is that if you show up at the Shelley’s house when you are sick, they will most likely shoot your rabbit-killing ass on sight.

– Fair Warning.

Kendall's Fight

Hi, all

Ashard's wife Kendall has been diagnosed with cervical cancer. She has also found out the hard way that her insurance does not cover her treatment, which is insane. This is a young woman with children. Ashard and Dmitri built a website to chronicle her recovery and raise funds. Please consider visiting her site and keep her in your thoughts and prayers.

Thanks,
Dulcy

Dukkering, Chapter Four: Gypsy Gold by Baron Bardulf

“Well, what do you remember?” Katherine hovered close.

“The woman gave me something to drink in a beat-up old goblet. She said it was a potion that would protect me. I was cautioned to drink it slowly. It had an odd taste, very sweet and bitter at the same time.”

“As soon as I touched the goblet, everything shifted, it all was so clear and transparent - no, that’s not it. It was as if I became transparent. Nothing came from me, it all came through me from somewhere else. I had no fear, no thoughts, and nothing to remember…”

“Everything was revealed to him - I spared him nothing. When I turned up the 'Tower' card, I saw it all - betrayal, torture, disgrace, and death by fire. To his credit, I saw him flinch only once.”

“The infidel would escape - but just barely… I told her where to hide something. If she did so, the old woman would win her freedom before she too died.”

“That’s the last thing I can remember before I woke up here.”

Dulcy’s voice trailed off. “I’ve tried over and over to recall what I said, but I just can’t. The memories keep going through my head like a song. I know the melody, but I can’t remember the lyrics.”

Katherine interrupted gently. "I was thinking about that gold...."

"Yeah, me too. I already know what you're going to say." Dulcinaya smiled sadly. "I know they meant well, but they might as well have filled my purse with rocks. We can't do anything with that gold - it’s worthless. You and I must keep it hidden and never tell a soul. If that wealth became known, every cutthroat in God’s creation would hunt us down."

"Besides, I’m a dirt-poor gypsy. Can you imagine me telling a judge that two strangers that nobody else saw drugged me and then stuffed my purse with ten gold florins?”

“It’s not hard to imagine at all. After he enjoyed a good laugh, the judge would hang the whole Kumpania as thieves." Katherine scowled, as if to recall an odd memory. “I didn’t think of it until now, but there’s one more thing. Elphin told me that when he pulled your face off the table, you opened your eyes for a moment and said one word before passing out again.”

“What did I say?”

“Rosslyn” Katherine eyed Dulcy quizzically. “Got any idea what it means?”

Dulcinaya pondered a moment and shrugged. “No - not a clue.”



© 2010 Baron Bardulf

Clean, no holes or skid marks , size M 32-34

Okay, ya'll. Seriously, nobody is gonna claim these? Don't be shy about it, they are nice undies.

These were found in the upstairs of the garage, so it would stand to reason they got lost when we were all swimming and using the garage as a changing room.

However, it is possible that they went missing as long ago as maybe Twelfth Night, and migrated up to the garage loft with the new storm windows while the house renovations were going on. That's a possibility, too.

Nobody has claimed them, so now we are just being mean about it and posting somebody's underwear on the internet because we are a nasty lot. I reckon you all will damn straight keep track of your flimises after this, eh?

Dukkering, Chapter Three: Soldier of Fortune by Baron Bardulf

After a candle had been placed in a window, the sound of a carriage could be heard outside. A man and a woman entered and surveyed what was before them. Although they were dressed like commoners, their disguises failed instantly.

He was old and bearded but presented himself with the calm, rock-solid demeanor of a seasoned warrior. He was a man born to command armies, yet there was a sense of earthy humility about him. He expected obedience and devotion, not out of pride, but simply because that was the natural order of things.

Although she too carried the weight of many years, the woman was unlike her companion. The dark skin and eyes bespoke a Turk, or perhaps a Moor. While it was clear that the other four men beheld her with respect and awe, fear was easily seen behind their regard. They took pains never to look her in the eyes.

“Are we alone?”

“Yes Sire - as you have ordered, there are none here but the gypsy woman.”

"Take your men outside. Stay in the shadows, remain unseen and allow no one to enter."

"Sir Tancred..." The ice in the woman's voice halted them. "...that doesn't mean you can kill some unlucky wretch."

When the door shut, the old man glared at the woman beside him.

"I'll thank you not to address my men in that way. Tancred's a fine knight..."

"- and a damned sorry excuse for a monk. Have you forgotten what he did to those poor bastards at Caesarea? They had laid down their weapons and yet he slaughtered them.”

The man shrugged off the reproach and turned his attention to Dulcinaya.

“So that’s her, eh? - that gypsy?”

“Don’t make light of the humble; she is a powerful seer.”

“How did you learn of that knave’s ‘talents’?”

“I have my own gifts.”

He gave the old woman a look of barely contained disgust. “I’ve had enough of your foul arts.”

“I didn’t choose to be what I am - and neither did she.”

The man strode across the room and stood before Dulcinaya’s table.

"Now then…” He placed his fists on the table-board and leaned closer. “…tell me my future with those cards and we'll be done."

"Cards?” Dulcy’s eyes opened wide with sudden panic. “Oh, you mean these? Fortune telling?? N-N-Never M'Lord!!! I'll not do such a loathsome thing! These cards are for clever tricks, idle amusements, games of chance, sleight of hand...."

“There! - you see? Here is your great oracle! This miserable creature has confessed herself to be a fraud. We’re done here! I’m through with this nonsense.”

"Stop it, Jacques. You’re scaring her. She thinks you're a witch-hunter."

"Me, a witch-hunter? Of that you must have no fear." He looked at the older woman with a wry smile. "I've already found all the witchcraft I can deal with."

“Pray, be seated.” The woman took her place at the end of the table while “Jacques” made a great show of sullen resignation and sat opposite Dulcinaya. “You must forgive the old dog.” Her voice hinted at affection. “He’s a soldier. Oft-times he forgets that not everyone must jump when he barks.”

The woman’s demeanor shifted. The dark eyes beheld the gypsy with a serious and uncompromising regard. “I now ask for your service…and above all…your trust.”

She reached beneath her cloak and unfastened a leather pouch that hung from a belt.

“NO!” He rose to his feet and bellowed. “I FORBID IT!!”

“You can’t stop me. Accept that…”

“You don’t dare…you wretch! Have you forgotten your oath?”

“Spare me the lecture - I’m not one of your acolytes."

“If you defy me….”

“Even in my defiance I will honor my oath. I pledged you my service - not my obedience! When you spared my life at Antioch, I gave my vow to you. In Jerusalem I accepted the burden that you placed upon me. I have served you like no other.”

“If it’s any comfort to you, you were my last choice.”

“I was your only choice. Only I could bear its touch without going mad. How many of your men paid dearly for that knowledge? I’ve often marveled at my fate. How can it be that only an infidel woman can hold and possess the object that all of Christendom desires?"

The dark eyes grew cold.

"Mark my words, you fool! You and your knights are too rich, too powerful, and too proud. The whirlwind is coming, Jacques. I can feel it, but I cannot see it! It will soon be upon us and it may already be too late. The gypsy is your only hope."

The old man looked at the woman. His eyes searched her as one who was grasping for a shred of trust.

"Please believe me." Her voice softened. "If there were any other way........"

Jacques slowly regained his seat. “May God forgive me for this.”

The woman opened the pouch and produced a well-worn goblet and cruet.



© 2010 Baron Bardulf

Dukkering, Chapter Two: The Gypsy Trap by Baron Bardulf

Life would slow down after All Hallows Day. The harvest was done and the farmers had plenty of idle time and idle money. On a cold night, they would find their way into the tavern. The lure of a warm fire, the company of friends and perhaps some spiced wine would prove irresistible.

Dulcy usually set herself up in the fire-side corner of the public room. An azure tablecloth, two borrowed candles and some scattered herbs would set the stage. There she would hold court like a ragged gypsy mage-queen.

In that corner, magic reigned and a ha’penny or other petty coin would buy a peek at whatever the future held. While a palm reading was best for some queries, the cards were Dulcinaya’s favorite.

Theatrics were the enchantment of the game. Each card was revealed slowly and teasingly. The turn of a card brought forth a look of grave concern, feigned shock, or perhaps surprised delight. The secret to dukkering was to answer each question with yet another question. Thus a heart’s desires would be laid bare. When a few more cards were shown, there would be a raised eyebrow, a knowing glance, or perhaps a conspiratorial wink and a sly smile. Whispering a vague prophecy somehow made it all seem true.

However, this Sabbath’s Eve had been a wretchedly slow night, and there was naught but three pence in her purse to show for it.

It was near closing time. A few farmers argued drunkenly as to what next year’s market would bring. Off in the other corner there were four strangers who drank and kept mostly to themselves. One could overhear the usual debate concerning the vagaries of gambling, the fickleness of women, or the merits of one horse over another. By the look of them, they were likely nothing more than sell-swords.

“Tis Sabbath Eve, gentlemen, and midnight is upon us - we must bid all a good night.” The serving wench made her usual announcement to no one in particular. The farmers downed the last of their grog and ale while gathering their cloaks. The four in the corner didn’t so much as lift their cups. The wench went over to their table. “There’s an inn less than a league north of here. I’m sure you gentlemen will find a night’s rest there.” They kept their seats and said nothing as the last of the farmers left the tavern. “Surely you'll not break the Sabbath? There’ll be hell to pay if the Vicar finds out that you were sitting here with an ale in your hand past midnight.”

“What about the gypsy?” One of the men queried.

“I let her stay because she helps me clean up. Now out with all of you! None of you look like the sort who will sweep floors.”

“Sit down and be silent, woman.”

“I’ve no patience for your nonsense. I’ve got work to do. Now get out!”

The man stood up and towered over the wench. “That wasn’t a suggestion.”

He turned to the other three and gave orders…"You guard the door - and keep the gypsy in her seat. Search the larder and kitchen - make sure no one else is here.”

The brute held the trembling woman's face before his.

"Leave this place, tell no one what you have seen, and do not return until sunrise. If you disobey, the gypsy..." He glanced in Dulcinaya's direction. "...will be found feeding the crows in a field somewhere. Do you understand?"

The wench gave a terrified nod and fled the tavern.

"Give the signal that it's safe to enter."



© 2010 Baron Bardulf

Dukkering, Chapter One: Consciousness by Baron Bardulf

Consciousness, when it arrived, simply hurt.

Maybe the damned priest was right.....I am bound for Hell...
That the rhythm of pain kept pace with a heartbeat and thus gave evidence of life blessed her with an odd sort of comfort.

The gray peace of oblivion enfolded once again......

"HOW'S THE DRUNK?"

A blast of cold air invaded the lungs and dragged her once more amongst the living. Dulcinaya rose upon one elbow and faced the open door. Squinting through a single blood-shot eye, she discerned Elphin's silhouette.

She gave him a terse description of how his ancestor's unfortunate mating choices had cursed this land with his existence. He smirked, shook his head and slammed the door with malicious effort.

"God-damned gadjos - why do I keep taking in every stray dog?"

"Go easy on him. When you didn't come home on Sunday morn, Elphin went to fetch you. The rest of us thought nothing of it - after all, it wouldn't be the first time you and the serving wench got snockered after hours." Katherine spoke gently. "Elphin carried you all the way from the tavern by himself. He swears he didn't drop you on your head more than twice."
"Where am I?"

"You're in your own bed. You're safe - now shut up and lie down."

Katherine pressed a cold rag against Dulcy's forehead.

"By the way, Morwenna says you're not drunk and you don't have a hangover - you've been drugged."

"Mow....who?"
"Mor-Wen-Nah... remember her? She's another stray-dog gadjo you took in recently. That 'dog' has been with you ever since Elphin brought you in - she left only after I threatened to throw her out."
Dulcinaya took a deep breath and held her eyes shut.

"Whenever I can eat again, I'd like a large plate of crow."

"Save the humility. We all know you're not well."

"How did Morwenna know that I was drugged?"

Katherine remained silent and only raised an eyebrow - a prudent woman never revealed where such knowledge came from.

"Leave those things to the healers."
Dulcy rolled upright, sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in her hands.

"Morwenna said to give this to you when you were strong enough. She said it would help clear your head."

Dulcy gave the potion a sniff and recoiled. That was followed by a tentative sip.

"Augggh! This stuff is awful!

"Drink it, it's good for you."
"Drink it? - I'd sooner kiss a pig's........."

"Aysha's sow just had a litter. I'll fetch one for you - got any preferences?"

When presented in that manner, the correct choice was obvious. Dulcinaya took a few deep breaths, steeled herself and downed the entire dose in a single gulp. Her eyes bulged as the cup shattered on the floor.

"Oh - My - Gawd." The words were forced out between croaking gasps.

"You were supposed to sip it, dammit."

"Yeah, thanks for telling me. I hope that was fun to watch."

Katherine placed a finger to her lips to compel silence and gave a quick glance about to make sure there were no others present.

"After Morwenna told me you had been drugged, I was pretty sure that you had been robbed." Katherine leaned close and spoke in a low voice. "As soon as she left, I looked to see if there was anything in your purse."
" - Bet it was kind of empty, eh? - At least I know the bastards didn't get much..."

"- Shut up and let me finish. When I emptied your purse onto the table there were three coppers.."

"- So what? That's just about all I ever have....."

"... and ten gold florins..."
Katherine waited until the shock began to fade from Dulcinaya's face.

"Close your mouth, you look like a fish."

"Y'know, sometimes your sense of humor really gets on my nerves....."

"I wasn't joking and you have some explaining to do. What happened at the tavern?"

"I'm having trouble remembering anything from last night. Hell, when I woke up, I didn't recognize my own vardo."

"It didn't happen last night. Today is Monday - you've been unconscious for a whole day."
Dulcinaya collapsed back onto the bed and wrapped the pillow around her head.

"Gimme some time, this may take a while to piece together."

© 2010 Baron Bardulf