Hugo and the Bird

by Jeff Mills

  Both of them sat back, not knowing what to say, until Hugo asked Bird if he was sure about what he had said.

  “I can’t be a hundred percent certain, as nobody alive today has ever seen it and we are reliant on descriptions from myth and legend. What we need to do, is to see if we can find someone who is an expert on that era. Do you have any ideas?”

  Hugo was silent for several minutes and then jumped up and excitedly exclaimed,

  “We can try the internet!”

  This time it was Bird who said,

  “What’s that?”

  Hugo was amazed that he had never heard of the internet, until Bird reminded him that he had been locked away in the zigzag stone for goodness knows how long. Hugo, with an air of superiority, started to explain to Bird about the world-wide web and the internet, and that all sorts of information and services could be accessed with just the click of a computer button on a keyboard. He then had to explain to Bird what a computer was but fortunately his friend was very quick on the uptake.

  Within half an hour Hugo was helping him search through Wikipedia, looking for any reference to Excalibur and, or the talisman that decorated the scabbard. There was certainly a great deal of information, much of which bore out the truth of what Bird had said, but also many facts that seemed contrary.

  “Fantastic!” said Bird after an hour or more of searching. “I must say this internet thing is marvellous. I wish that I…,” He turned to Hugo and broke off. The young boy was fast asleep curled up on his bed.

  “I think that this has been a bit too much for both of us,” he concluded and stifled a yawn. He carefully rewrapped the talisman in the old sock and replaced it in the drawer that Hugo had taken it from. He pulled the duvet over the sleeping boy and melted through the wall.

  Hugo had a disturbed sleep that night. He could not help dreaming about King Arthur, his knights, Excalibur, the talisman and the gnomes still imprisoned in Morgana’s cave. Despite this, his mother had to call him twice to get up and have his breakfast. It was a very bleary-eyed boy who slouched into the kitchen that morning.

  “You look as if you’ve had a rough night, son,” remarked his father, who was just finishing a cup of tea while trying to prop his newspaper up against the milk container in the middle of the breakfast table.

  “Yeah, I didn’t sleep very well last night and I feel shattered,” replied Hugo while filling a bowl with cornflakes and knocking over his dad’s paper as he tried to get the milk.

  “Careful!” shouted his father as his newspaper slid off the table.

  “You shouldn’t be reading it at the table anyway,” commented his wife. “It serves you right.”

  Mr Bennett gave his wife an awkward stare and then gathered up the paper from the floor, roughly folded it and threw it onto one of the easy chairs in the corner. His wife gave him a frosty stare and noisily cleared her throat. Without speaking, Mr Bennett went over to the chair, retrieved the paper and, with great emphasis, put it carefully with the other pile of papers in the Canterbury paper rack behind the door. Hugo grinned, as he always enjoyed seeing his dad being told off by his mum.

  “Right!” announced Mr Bennett. “I’ve got today off and since the weather forecast is good, I fancy a trip out somewhere. We’ve been cooped up in this house for far too long and we all need an adventure.” He emphasised the word ‘adventure’ to try to generate some enthusiasm in the motley group of people in front of him, slumped round the breakfast table saying nothing.

  “Oh, do we have to?” moaned Stephanie.

  For once Hugo agreed with her. His mother looked up with an excited face but before she could say anything Mr Bennett added, “And I do not include shopping as an adventure.”

  Mrs Bennett, Stephanie and Emma, who was also looking exhausted, resumed their positions at the table. Stephanie became glued to her teen journal, her mother flicked through the pages of Hello magazine, while Emma finished off the last of her cornflakes.

  “Doesn’t anybody fancy going somewhere?” Hugo’s father shouted, trying to sound enthusiastic.

  Suddenly a great idea jumped into Hugo’s head and his face lit up.

  “Can we go to Tintagel? It’s in Cornwall somewhere. There was a programme on the tele last week about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table and a magic sword called Excalibur. They said that they lived at Tintagel and that there are still the remains of the castle there.”

  “Boring!” muttered Stephanie as she looked up and poked her tongue out at Hugo. Emma looked confused and with a distinct lack of interest.

  “Right then, unless someone has a better idea, then Tintagel it is. Let’s go!”

  “Shall we ask Emma’s mum if Emma can come with us, because she was also very interested in the programme?”

  Emma looked totally confused, as she had never heard of Tintagel but with a wink from Hugo she sprang up enthusiastically, eager to go along with the idea.

  Stephanie mouthed ‘girlfriend,’ at Hugo who chose to ignore her, while both his parents looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

  “I’ll give Miriam a call to see if Emma can come with us,” announced Mrs Bennett.

  Turning, she marched into the lounge to make the call.

  Hugo’s tiredness had suddenly evaporated and he couldn’t wait to talk to Emma and tell her about the Talisman and Excalibur.

  * * *

  It was only a few minutes later that Mrs Bennett returned to the kitchen and confirmed that Emma could come along. “But she will need to call in at her home to change her clothes and get some money,” she added. Hugo smiled but kept his head down as he finished off his bowl of cornflakes and gulped down the rest of his orange juice. He almost fell out of his chair as he got up from the table.

  “Don’t forget your teeth,” reminded his dad as Hugo headed up the stairs.

  He spun around as his mother gave a loud, deliberate cough. He then remembered to put his bowl and glass in the dishwasher. Glancing at his mother, who had an exaggerated angry, but non-threatening face, he rushed up the stairs two at a time.

  Half an hour later they were strapped into the Volvo and heading out to the Jones’s house. Mrs Bennett seemed to take an age while she passed the time of day with Mrs Jones. Emma was already seated and belted by the time Hugo’s mother finally broke away from her conversation and re-seated herself in the car. With a final wave from Emma to her mother, the journey began.

  Hugo was dying to talk to Emma about what he had found out the night before, but Stephanie had deliberately sat in the middle of the back seat so that she was between the two. She smirked at Hugo but the three were silent for at least thirty minutes as they twisted and turned along the A39 through the Devon countryside. They had just passed a pub when they saw the sign by the side of the road, ‘Welcome to Cornwall’ while underneath was written some strange words, ‘Kernow a’ gas dynergh.’

  “What’s that written under the Cornwall sign?” asked Emma.

  “Oh, that’s the Gaelic for welcome to Cornwall,” replied Stephanie.

  Everyone was in stunned silence, for no one expected Stephanie to be paying attention, or even know anything about Gaelic.

  “I’m impressed, Steph.” Mr Bennett smiled broadly, giving his wife a glance. “How come you know about that then?”

  “Well, Marty and I…”

  Hugo suddenly gave an impression of someone being sick. Stephanie gave him a hard thump in his side with her elbow and continued,

  “As I was saying, Marty and I came this way on a day out to Bude. Mr Edmunds, Marty’s father, explained that, when the Romans invaded Britain, they never succeeded in conquering Cornwall and so the local people, called the Celts, never changed their language. Even today it is considered to be the native language of Cornwall and still spoken by some. Its use is proudly protected, even to the point that there is a big movement to make Co
rnwall an independent part of Britain, much like Scotland or Wales.”

  Mrs Bennett clapped her hands and congratulated her daughter on her knowledge, while Hugo pushed his nose into the air with his finger and mouthed the word “Bighead!” at his sister.

  Not to be outdone, Hugo took the opportunity of telling everything Bird had told him about Tintagel, King Arthur and Excalibur. Several times during his telling, Stephanie gave a mock yawn to get her own back but Hugo totally ignored her.

  When Hugo had finished Mr Bennett turned to his wife and said,

  “Well! Well! Well! I didn’t know that we had such genii in our midst.” Hugo’s mother smiled and all went quiet again as everyone watched the scenery change from the rolling hills of Devon into the stark greyness of Cornwall, which seemed to be littered with wind turbines.

  Suddenly, Mr Bennett made an unexpected right turn off the main road and started down a narrow country lane, bounded on each side by tall hedges.

  “Where are we going?” his wife asked, sitting up straight in her seat and adjusting her safety belt.

  “It’s boring driving along the main road all the time and since we’re not in any hurry I thought that we could take the coastal road and see what Cornwall is famous for: its beaches, cliffs and coves.”

  He was right, for as they journeyed on, the sea came into view and it was not long before they drove in and out of Bude, along the narrow ups and downs of the coast road, admiring the bays and beaches that led to Widemouth Bay, Boscastle and eventually Tintagel.

  After driving slowly down the main street, Mr Bennett found a car park and came to a stop.

  “I don’t know about anyone else, but I fancy a snack and a drink?”

  Everyone looked up in agreement and so, having paid for, and placed a parking ticket on the car, they went in search of a café and some much-needed refreshment.

  Chapter 14

  Barguff’s Escape

  The pile of small patterned stones outside the entrance to Morgana’s cave was beginning to grow and, most disturbingly, several of them had distinct patches of bright red, blue, yellow and green mixed in with the normal grey or dull orange. Bird noticed this and it gave him a cold shiver down his purple-feathered back. Although it was just daybreak and no one seemed to be around, he had travelled to the entrance in his invisible form as he did not want to alert anyone, friend or foe, to his presence. He eased through the entrance and slowly and as noiselessly as he could, worked his way down the tunnel to the cavern where he expected the gnomes to be imprisoned. Carefully he pushed the cave door open just enough for him to slide sideways through it.

  He stopped short. He had expected the cave to be silent and dark but it was a hive of activity. Candles and smoky lamps burnt all around. Little blue-grey figures hopped and jumped from bench to shelf and vice versa, moving and carrying jars, tubes and packets of powder from here to there. Morgana was silhouetted against the glow of the fire under her caldron as she stirred it vigorously, adding various powders and liquids into it at frequent intervals. Occasionally she would croak orders at the goblins that were moving around her, sometimes hitting one with a sweep of her bony hand as it did something wrong or was not fast enough at carrying out her demands.

  Bird stood in absolute amazement as he had never seen such activity. The witch was certainly trying to make up for the lost time resulting from much of her work being destroyed when Barguff had tried to escape.

  “For that matter, where is Barguff and the other gnomes?” Bird thought, and looked around to see if he could see any of them, or at least the boxes that Morgana usually kept her ‘guests’ in. The relatively bright light illuminated the nooks and crannies around the edge of the cavern, but there was no sign of them. Bird was at a loss as to where the gnomes were being kept prisoner, when suddenly, a group of four goblins emerged from the opposite tunnel, dragging a screaming and cursing gnome between them. Just the sound of his swearing and threats convinced Bird that this was Barguff, though his face was hidden by two of his guards.

  “Tie him up and leave him over there,” Morgana barked at those holding him and pointed to a small cavity in the wall about five metres from where Bird was standing. “And gag him to shut him up. I’m fed up with that little idiot’s voice. We’ll see how brave he is after I’ve finished with him.” She gave a loud chuckle to herself.

  The goblins obediently did as they were told. After moving Barguff to the small recess, they bound his hands and feet, placed a dirty rag around his mouth, which they tied behind his head and threw him onto the floor, with one of them blowing him a big raspberry before scurrying off with the others.

  “This must be my best chance,” Bird thought and edged forward until he was almost on top of Barguff. He stretched out one of his wings so that it covered Barguff, making him become invisible. At the same time, he whispered,

  “Don’t make a sound my friend. It’s me, Bird. I’ve come to get you out of here.”

  He was pleased that the little gnome was gagged because he was sure that, had he not been, he would have let out a big scream. As it was, a high-pitched gurgle came from the trussed-up figure. As quietly as he could, using his beak and his free wing, Bird slowly undid the thin ropes that held the gnome fast but he did not remove the gag, just in case.

  Eventually the last rope around Barguff’s legs slid off and, without saying a word, he and Bird inched back along the wall to the door of the tunnel. They had just made it half way along the tunnel, when there was an incredible scream and a loud rushing of footsteps towards where they stood. “Run for it!” he shouted at Barguff and without hesitating, they took off as fast as their legs could carry them.

  They had just made it to the outside of the tunnel and into freedom, when five goblins caught up with them. They were about to grab Barguff, as Bird was still invisible, when they realised that it was daylight and they screamed in pain as the early morning sunbeams hit them. Leaving their quarry, they rushed back into the tunnel and the comfort of the darkness.

  Bird emerged from his invisibility and gave a huge sigh.

  “That was too close!” he exclaimed and waited for Barguff to agree with him. It took a few moments for him to realise that the little man was still wearing his gag which he was struggling to untie. Bird laughed and motioned for him to turn around, which he did, allowing Bird to free him.

  Immediately, Bird wished he hadn’t done it as Barguff launched himself into a tirade of swearing, cursing, threats and promises of what he would do to Morgana and those idiotic, thick and senseless goblins. After several minutes of this, Bird called a halt and announced that they had better move away from where they were, as early-morning dog walkers might stumble across them, which would make life even harder to explain.

  “You head back to the reserve,” suggested Bird, “and I will see you there later in the day.”

  “Do you know how far it is to the reserve from here? It’ll take me a week to walk back,” moaned Barguff. “And by the way, thank you for rescuing me, even though it was a bit hairy.” As he said this he shook Bird by the wing.

  “Before you go, where are the other gnomes being held?” Bird enquired.

  “Most of them are in another cave adjoining the one you found me in,” he replied. “It’s funny but there are also three coffins in there, but if you are thinking of going in there to rescue them then I must warn you that there are also hundreds of those dirty scum in there and, invisible or not, you don’t stand a chance against them.”

  “Thanks for the advice little friend but if I am right then I may have a little something up my sleeve as it were,” and Bird looked at his wings and chuckled, “that may make their rescue a little easier than you think.”

  The image of a large gold amulet, with a picture of a lion bearing snakes as its mane on one side and a sword on the other popped, into his head. Bird turned to wish Barguff goodbye when there was an almigh
ty beating of wings accompanied by a loud screeching. The last thing he saw was a small red cap and a blue coat riding away on an obviously very disgruntled seagull flying away towards the reserve.

  “Well I never.” thought Bird. “So that’s how they get around so quickly.” A small arm lifted from the back of the reluctant avian and waved a goodbye. Bird chuckled again and disappeared.

  Chapter 15

  The Press

  Sue Redwell flicked some strands of hair out of her eyes before she opened her car door. She had just finished interviewing, for an article in the North Devon Journal, an artist, whose works were being exhibited in a small art gallery situated in a Devon village called West Putford. By coincidence, the gallery’s entrance was opposite to that of the Gnome Reserve. As she was about to leave, she noticed a police car draw up. Two officers emerged and started to walk up the drive to the reserve.

  As a freelance reporter, anything which interested the police, interested her. Stealthily, so as not to make anyone aware of her presence, she relocked her Fiat Panda and followed the policemen, to investigate the reason for their visit. By hiding behind various bushes and trees she was easily able to hear and monitor the activities of the law officers. She was frustrated to know what they were both looking at and taking moulds of on the ground.

  It was only when they had returned to the office that she dared venture to come out of hiding and have a look. She also was intrigued with the footprints left in the mud but only gave them a cursory view as she did not want to miss anything that was being discussed in the office. Taking out of her pocket her mobile phone, she quickly snapped a couple of pictures of the footprints and then, as rapidly, but as carefully as she could, crept up to the office. Looking about, she noticed a small side window and made for it. She was about to look through the window when she took a little step sideways and trod into a large puddle left from the rain the night before. The water completely covered her boot, which was one of a new pair that she had worn for the first time that day. She cursed under her breath and quickly pulled her foot to the side but the damage had been done. The previously soft, red suede was now a sodden muddy mess. Still trying to shake the water out of her footwear, she peered through the misted window and tried, as best she could, to see and hear everything that was going on in the office. She could not hear everything but was aware of most of what was being said. Again she took out her mobile phone, fingered it to the dictation app and as silently as she could, whispered into it, a description of what she was seeing. Everything was going as she had wished until, out of the pocket of, who she assumed to be the reserve’s owner, Chipper was lifted. The shock of seeing the small person held in the palm of the woman made Sue temporarily jump, and as she did so, she let go of her phone. It fell straight into the deepest part of the puddle into which she had trodden minutes before. Cursing and swearing under her breath she reached down and retrieved the machine, but it was too late. As she lifted it out of the puddle, muddy water drained from it. There was an audible sizzle and the screen went black. Sue let out an involuntary groan. However much Sue shook the device, pressing every button, nothing happened. It was definitely dead. She strained her ears to try to listen to what the small figure was saying, so that everything would not be a dead loss but its voice was so faint that she could only make out a few words.