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7/21/2014 1 Comment
First Love Hurts the Most
I continue to be a lazy blogger by simply posting essays I had published long ago. Hopefully, this one never gets old.
Calling on a Girl Named Becky
By Robert Tate Miller MARCH 3, 1995 - The Christian Science Monitor
'MAY I help you?'' the man behind the counter at the ceramic shop asked. I barely heard him. My gaze was transfixed by the pretty teenager perched on the stool beside him. Her curly brown hair, round rosy cheeks, and shimmering green eyes were so distantly familiar. Once upon a time, eyes like those had captured a schoolboy's heart.
In the summer of 1973, Becky came to work as a waitress at my family's quaint stone inn in the mountains of North Carolina. She burst through the swinging kitchen doors one June morning just as I was sitting down to breakfast. It was love at first sight.
Becky was 16. I was 11. She was pretty, vivacious, and outgoing. I was shy, a little on the pudgy side, and, heretofore, more inclined toward bullfrogs and tree climbing than creatures of the fairer sex.
But there was something about Becky. The certain way she tossed back her head whenever an unwelcome curl drifted down over her eye. Her habit of chewing on the nail of her pinkie finger when she was lost in thought. The way she gracefully tucked her pencil behind her ear after taking an order. Becky was no garden-variety girl.
''What's that?'' Becky would ask innocently, pointing to some imaginary speck just south of my Adam's apple. I always fell for it, and she relished bringing her finger up to pop me on the chin when I looked down. ''Gotcha gain,'' she'd say grinning.
The summer of '73 Becky gave me a boy's greatest keepsake -- attention. She was never too busy to share a secret, a joke, or a playful flick of a wet dish towel. In return, I cleaned off her tables, fetched her soft drinks, sneaked her extra desserts, and worshiped the ground she walked on.
''I think he's cute,'' Becky whispered one afternoon just loud enough for me to overhear. ''Especially when he blushes.''
''Becky, I love you,'' I boldly ventured one morning into the bathroom mirror. ''I'll love you till the end of time.''
Unfortunately, our time was sliding by like a well-waxed shuffleboard disk, and there was nothing I could do to slow it.
''Robbie, can I talk to you for a minute?'' Becky asked one stormy August afternoon. My heart was racing. What could she want? Would she finally confirm her love for me?
''I'm going back to school soon,'' she announced. ''I won't be around much anymore.'' I swallowed hard. ''You've been a great friend,'' she said quietly. ''I'll miss you very much.''
I struggled to stay composed. I had worked so hard for her to see me as a grown-up and I didn't want to fall apart now. But when she grew blurry, and my chin began to quiver, I knew there was no turning back.
''I love you,'' I said abruptly and then cried my eyes out.
For a few minutes she watched me -- a bit startled by my sudden sobbing confession. Then she gently took my hand.
''Robbie,'' she spoke softly. ''I think you're very special and I love you so much as my friend. But I'm not the one for you, and I think, deep down, you know that.''
Slowly, like a steam engine pulling into the station, my sobbing ground to a halt.
Becky smiled at me until she forced me to smile back. ''Someday,'' she confided, ''you're going to find a girl so wonderful you'll know she's the right one for you. Then, you'll forget all about me. I promise you.''
''May I help you,'' the ceramic-shop man repeated a bit more firmly. ''Is Becky in?'' I muttered finally. ''Are you a friend of hers?'' he shot back suspiciously.
''Sort of,'' I mumbled. ''About 20 years ago she spent the summer waitressing at my family's inn. My father and I were waxing nostalgic last evening, and her name came up. He said I might be able to find her here.''
His furrowed brow softened and he extended his hand. ''I'm her husband. This here's her daughter.'' The girl snatched the phone from the wall and began dialing. ''Becky's at home today,'' the man explained. ''She's not been well.''
''Momma, somebody here knows you.'' The girl spoke in her customary mountain twang. ''He says you used to work at his family's inn.'' She listened for a moment and then wordlessly handed me the phone.
I stared at it in my hand as if holding one for the first time. She smiled a dimpled smile that seemed to say, ''go ahead.''
''Hi, Becky,'' I stammered a bit too energetically. The other end of the line was completely still. Five seconds. Ten.
''Robbie, is that you?'' The voice I knew. It was deeper, more grown-up -- but unforgettable.
''It's me,'' I assured her.
''Well, how have you been?'' she asked with a smile in her voice.
''Fine, Becky. How about you?''
We reminisced -- small talk among long-lost friends trying to fold 20 years into a five-minute phone conversation.
''I have such happy memories of that summer,'' Becky said at last. ''I am so touched you remembered. I only wish I could be there to see you because, you really made my year.''
''But, Becky,'' I said smiling at the girl across the counter, ''I'm looking at you right now.''
''Now, don't you go and fall in love with my daughter,'' she teased.
My cheeks flushed bright red. I was 11 again.
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# - A - B - C - D - E - F - G - H - I - J - K - L
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PowerAnime is committed to the highest standard of authenticity and stands behind every product we sell in our shop as officially licensed merchandise. Strictly no bootlegs!
Main >> Other >> Everything Else >> Jojo's Bizarre Adventure
The end of Power Anime. Thank you, and good bye!
As of January 1st, 2016, Power Anime will no longer be in the business of merchandise retail as Reggie, owner and operator, has chosen to close the doors for good. This not only includes this website, but also any 3rd party marketplace venue including Amazon and eBay as well as any convention appearances as Power Anime. After 14 years pioneering ecommerce with this custom built website and personally representing my passion for anime and the Japanese culture through numerous physical store iterations and convention appearances, I can't thank all my supporters enough for helping me realize my childhood dream and make a living off of what I love.
My website will no longer be used for new customers, but will still stay up for existing customers as the login will grant access to the members section. Products can no longer be purchased as I have deactivated the checkout process. For anyone who still has pre-orders with me, please log into the website and leave a comment at the bottom of the order details so we can may proper arrangements for fulfillment or a refund.
Like any great anime, our store's finale was spectaclular! If felt good to jump back into the retail swing with customers once again, for the final time, strolled through my entire warehouse and found some amazing deals, lost treasures, and big smiles. I can't really put into words everything I feel, everything I remember, everything that molded me to this moment. It was my mission to bring the Japanese culture to the curious youth through the lens of anime as I had done and in doing so, I not only showed this gateway to thought to the childhood's of my customers, but PowerAnime itself became an icon of childhood as claimed by some of my most adoring fans.
The adventures of Power Anime now live in its fans. Keep believing, and it will live forever!
If there's any advice that I'd give after this experience, it'd be: Do what you love, or die trying! It's worth it!
My life: The Next Season
'So.... where am I going,' you ask. Well, I've taken up a position with Bandai America Inc as a Brand Manager, Anime Import Collectibles. You can connect with me on my personal Facebook https://www.facebook.com/reggie.griffin.39, and my twitter https://twitter.com/BandaiReggie. Take care, and I'll see you soon at a convention in your area. Go to Bandai's booth, and ask for 'The Keep'.
PowerAnime4Life,
Reggie 'The Keep' Griffin
Oh, god! I lost my password!!!
Phone: 1 (310) 721 - 9379
Email: reggie[at]PowerAnime.com
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PowerAnime.com - A Flavor of Japan & Everything Cool™ ©2020 www.PowerAnime.com. All rights reserved.
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Day 1 - Royal visit & close racing
Sailing teams from around the World joined battle on the first day of the 2015 ISAF (International Sailing Federation) Team Racing World Championship at Rutland Sailing Club, Rutland Water on 20 July.
Her Royal Highness The Princess Royal, President of the Royal Yachting Association, visited the event and attended a reception to mark the 20th anniversary of the founding of Rutland Sailability, which provides sailing for disabled people of all ages, in her capacity as Patron of the RYA Foundation.
On arrival Her Royal Highness was presented to Richard Langford, OBE, chairman of RYA Foundation, Martin Sutcliffe, Rutland Sailability chairman, Rutland Sailing Club commodore Nick Clarke, club manager Hugh Neill, and championship event director David Wilkins. David then explained the 2015 ISAF Team Racing World Championships from race control in the John Merricks Training Centre.
Following lunch Her Royal Highness chatted with championship competitors including the GBR 1 and the Japanese under 19 teams, then was taken out in the spectator boat by Rutland SC head coxswain Dick Richardson for a close up view of the action in the team racing, and to see a sail past by Rutland Sailability. Finally Her Royal Highness visited the clubhouse for a reception where she was introduced to members of Rutland Sailability.
Event director and former Olympic sailor David Wilkins said of the opening day's events: "We've really had a fantastic day here. The racing has been very close between the top half dozen teams.
"The Royal visit was very enjoyable. Her Royal Highness The Princess Royal spent over an hour out on a boat. She was very interested in our Sailability fleet as there is such a wide variety from training to performance boats.
"She was very knowledgeable, having done a lot of sailing, and was fascinated with the team racing and picked up the format very quickly. You get some amazing things going on around the course marks and I would encourage anyone to come down and watch the racing."
Francine Counsell, a twice British Universities Sailing Association team racing national champion, and now in the Bermudian team, said: "It's good to see so many teams here at Rutland and great to have such a wide range of countries including Bermuda's first time at a Team Racing World Championships."
"We are eager to show the world that Bermudians can hold their own not only in fleet racing but team racing as well," added team captain Emily Nagel, the 2014 International University Sports Federation women's match racing World Champion. "We have all been busy training in earnest anticipation of the event in which Bermuda has never been represented before."
Rutland Sailability chairman Martin Sutcliffe said: "The Royal visit was absolutely wonderful. We had a fantastic day. Her Royal Highness reviewed the Sailability fleet and we had a very good technical discussion about how we'd re-rigged the boat she had named for us at the London Boat Show, and whilst watching the team racing she called to one competitor to advise him of a rigging problem. At the Sailability reception she spoke to every single person in the room – absolutely marvellous. We had a great day which people will remember for a very, very long time."
The ISAF Grade 1 event is the pinnacle of international dinghy team racing. Races are very short at around 12 minutes and can be action packed and spectacular.
The top sailors competing are often World and national dinghy champions in their own right. Many have sailed for university and collegiate teams and have already represented their countries at international level.
More than 100 races took place on day one, and after 99 races the British GBR 1 team West Kirby Hawks, who are the current World Champions, were tying with USA 1 on 11 race wins, closely followed on 10 wins each by GBR 2 and GBR 3, and USA 3 on nine wins. The top youth teams were USA Y1 on five wins and GBR Y1 on four.
The competition has Open and Under 19 divisions and the top three teams in each section will be awarded ISAF championship medals.
The GBR 2 team is the Royal Forth Hoosiers, who are the reigning UK National Champions, and the GBR 3 team is from Bristol University.
Magdalen College School, Oxford, Sevenoaks School, Kent and West Kirby Sailing Club on the Wirral make up the British Youth (under 19) teams.
A 'Virtual 2015 ISAF Team Racing Championship', hosted by SailX, will also be run in conjunction with the real event.
Live video coverage of the racing will be available on YouTube along with GPS tracking provided by SailRacer.
For breaking news and race results, follow Twitter @ISAFupdates and @Rutland2015. Use Twitter hashtag #TRWC to participate in the conversation throughout the championship.
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Location All Sydney (Concourse Chatswood), Australia Sydney (The Factory Theatre), Australia Adelaide, Australia Canberra, Australia Brisbane, Australia Melbourne, Australia ["Sydney (Concourse Chatswood), Australia", "Sydney (The Factory Theatre), Australia", "Adelaide, Australia", "Canberra, Australia", "Brisbane, Australia", "Melbourne, Australia"]
Show All Hamlet Hamlet ["Hamlet", "Hamlet "]
Sydney (Concourse Chatswood), Australia
Sydney (The Factory Theatre), Australia
Feb 12 + Feb 13
The original, award winning, international UK smash-hit direct from London’s West End and the legendary Magnificent Bastard Productions Ltd.
Accept no pale imitations and see the live show that started it all! Since 2010 Shit-faced Shakespeare® has delighted audiences around the globe with their high-brow mix of classical Elizabethan drama and no-holds-barred drunken antics. Now catch the unique blend of shoeys and soliloquies all across the great land down under on our yearly tour of Oz.
Featuring an international cast of the finest classically trained actors, the juiciest cuts of Shakespearian classics and more inebriated antics than you can shake a two pot screamer at! Shit-faced Shakespeare® is the unique theatrical experience that has left audiences roaring in the aisles the world over. Chookas everyone.
Each night we take on one of The Bard of Avon’s most exciting plays and one carefully selected cast member is charged with drinking for 4 hours prior to showtime. The remaining sober cast are forced to fight their way through the show while incorporating, rectifying, justifying and generally improvising round their inebriated castmate.
With foul language, partial nudity, simulated acts of a sexual nature, attempted singing, full contact wrestling, full nudity, actual acts of a sexual nature and involuntary ‘tongue stuff’ Shakespeare plays are considered classical entertainment… All we’re doing is adding a slab of tinnies to the mix.
What could possibly go right?
“A mix of Royal Shakespeare Company and a university kegger… An absolute must see”
“The antics only late night and drunken comedy can bring”
“A hilarious, laugh-a-minute riot that has no choice but to survive on the edge of each unexpected moment”
The Clothesline
“A recipe for delicious madness… Hell, even if you don’t know or even like Shakespeare – you are guaranteed to enjoy this show”
This Is Radelaide
“Go if you hated Shakespeare in high school. If you don’t love Shakespeare after this you never will”
C44 Adelaide
Sellout Show Adelaide Fringe 2018
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Political Eye
Homegrown Black Males
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Hot Sheet
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Healthcare Luncheon
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About Newspaper in Education
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St. Louis, MO (63103)
Partly cloudy early followed by cloudy skies overnight. Low 22F. Winds ENE at 5 to 10 mph..
Partly cloudy early followed by cloudy skies overnight. Low 22F. Winds ENE at 5 to 10 mph.
Community groups discuss public health initiative they brought to St. Louis on Sept. 12
By Jamala Rogers Of The St. Louis American
A community report-back on the Cure Violence assessment of St. Louis will be held 6 p.m. Thursday, September 12 at the Deaconess Center for Child Well-Being, 1000 N. Vandeventer Ave., sponsored by the Coalition Against Police Crimes and Repression.
I have been doing a slow burn watching so-called leaders address the epidemic of violence. The burn turned to a flame since June 18, when Cure Violence came to St. Louis to conduct an assessment.
We wanted to assess how the health-based violence prevention program could work in St. Louis. The cost of the assessment was paid by the Organization for Black Struggle as an investment in a solution rooted in the belief that our community is worth it. For nearly 40 years, we always have considered ourselves part of the solution.
Cure Violence is part of strategy that calls for divesting the millions our city and our nation spend on police and cages and reinvesting money in the basic human needs of people, such as livable-wage jobs, quality education, affordable housing and accessible health care.
Mayor Lyda Krewson claims to support Cure Violence, saying she is genuinely concerned about the number of black bodies taken down by violence. She made public a letter to Comptroller Darlene Green dated August 20 stressing the urgency in moving the contractual process to implement the internationally recognized program.
At the time of Krewson’s letter, there was no contract for Green to sign, despite Krewson’s deceptive inference of such. There is still no signed contract, and we have lost more black lives.
Key community leaders have publicly supported Cure Violence. Funds for at least one site is already in the city’s budget. Additional funding streams are a real possibility. So why isn’t Cure Violence a reality?
This kind of politics ought to outrage all of us who are truly seeking a humane end to the sickening violence that engulfs our lives. We are all potential victims of violence. Because of this fact, we must all be vested in the reversal of violence. Violence won’t end with words alone. It will take a comprehensive plan that refuses to accept political posturing and old ways of thinking about crime and punishment.
In St. Louis this summer, the tears of black mothers created rivers as we mourned the deaths of our children by the violent world constructed for them. My life’s work towards transformational change in this society is primarily inspired by children and their boundless potential. That potential is suffocated by poverty and racism. These are two formidable, systemic blocks that we must be fully committed to eradicating.
Also in the path of change are elected officials like Krewson whose mouths conflict with their actions. It is a political disease that is sucking the vitality out of this city. It’s seems that that there is a not-so hidden plan in place to undermine black political leadership, to financially de-stabilize the city, and to ultimately make the case that the city is not worth saving.
The plan to merge St. Louis city and St. Louis County is more like a hostile takeover – aided and abetted by political leaders with their own agendas. That’s a topic for another day.
A community report-back on the Cure Violence assessment will be sponsored by the Coalition Against Police Crimes and Repression on Thursday, September 12 at 6 p.m. It is hosted by the Deaconess Center for Child Well-Being, 1000 N. Vandeventer Ave. It is free and open to the public.
Lyda Krewson
Deaconess Center For Child Well-being
Discovering Community in North St. Louis
The American Empire and African Americans
Designs by J. Stocking seeks to create a ‘fashion experience’ with upcoming show
OBS celebrates 40th anniversary with Jan. 25 gala
‘Two Trains Running’ is language full speed ahead
Zoo hosting Community Input Sessions for North Campus
United Methodist Mediation Team proposes protocol of separation
Gardner files federal suit via Ku Klux Klan Act
Pastor John Gray’s church served with eviction papers
Homer G. Phillips Hospital was no 3-bed urgent care clinic
Who was consulted in the decision to steal this name?
‘There is no time better to get into the trades’
AME Church partners with Alzheimer’s Association
Popular radio personality Tony J passes at 49
Felony diversion in St. Louis – and its discontents
Black female reform prosecutors come to St. Louis to defend Kimberly Gardner
Food Bank opens free school markets to reduce hunger
LaKeySha Bosley files bill to regulate ammunition sales in Missouri (2)
Black female reform prosecutors come to St. Louis to defend Kimberly Gardner (1)
Supreme Court can fix Conviction Integrity Review innocence cases (1)
Gardner files federal suit via Ku Klux Klan Act (1)
Partyline Gallery January 16, 2020
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Praying the Seven Sorrows (Dolors) of Our Blessed Mother
The Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows falls on September 15 and it commemorates the sorrowful Mother and the sufferings she experienced in union with her Son and dates back to the 12th century. The feast was extended to the universal Church in 1817 by Pope Pius VII and fixed officially in the calendar for September 15 in 1913 by Pope Piux X. This feast reminds of the spiritual martyrdom of Our Blessed Mother and her compassion with the sufferings of her Divine Son; however, the prayers honoring the seven sorrows of Our Lady can be said anytime throughout the year. Through her great sufferings as co-redeemer, she also helps to show us the true evil of sin and thereby leads us to repentance and salvation. The devotion is similar to the Rosary, in that it consists of seven "mysteries" to be meditated on. These are the seven sorrows of Mary, the great piercings that she received throughout her life with Jesus her Son.
In our meditation on the Seven Sorrows of Our Lady, we should pray to imitate the virtues and dispositions of Our Blessed Mother, especially during her moments of greatest suffering. We should seek to learn from her the value and power of redemptive suffering. Suffering becomes redemptive only through the Incarnation, Passion and Resurrection of Jesus. Because of this, each one of us can offer our sufferings as a gift to the Lord, uniting them with those of His Son. When we do this, our sufferings, just like those of Jesus, redeem and bring grace to souls because they are united with His. We look to our Blessed Mother to show us how to do this most perfectly. She, more than any other creature, suffered in perfect union and communion with her Son. These sufferings, united with Christ, help redeem the world. We look to her for aid, comfort and an example.
Our Lady of Seven Sorrows Rosary
The Seven Sorrows rosary consists of one Our Father and seven Hail Mary’s for each of the seven Sorrows. The Our Father is said before each group of seven Hail Mary’s on the separate bead. After completion of the Hail Mary’s, recite: Holy Mother hear our prayers, and renew in our hearts each wound of Jesus Our Saviour.
"With this rosary, we bind ourselves and our priest-sons to the Sorrowful Heart of Mary.”
The First Sword of Sorrow–The prophecy of Simeon who told Our Sorrowful Mother of the bitter passion and death of Jesus.
The Second Sword of Sorrow–Our Sorrowful Mother is forced to flee into Egypt to save her beloved Son from the death decreed by Herod.
The Third Sword of Sorrow–Our Sorrowful Mother is separated from Jesus for three long days while He is lost in Jerusalem.
The Fourth Sword of Sorrow–Our Sorrowful Mother meets Jesus on the road to Calvary and sees Him fall under the cruel weight of the cross.
The Fifth Sword of Sorrow–Our Sorrowful Mother watches Jesus die on the Cross.
The Sixth Sword of Sorrow–Our Sorrowful Mother receives the dead body of Jesus in her arms.
The Seventh Sword of Sorrow--Our Sorrowful Mother sees Jesus placed in the sacred tomb.
Conclusion --- Three Hail Mary’s are said in honour of the Tears of Our Sorrowful Mother.
O Mary, you truly became the Queen of all martyrs as these seven bitter swords of sorrow pierced your Immaculate Heart! By the merits of your tearful distress obtain for us and for all sinners the graces of perfect contrition and conversion. Help us always, dear Mother, to imitate you by taking up our crosses and following Jesus with limitless love and generosity. Amen.
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The Seven Promises:
According to the visions of St. Bridget of Sweden (1303-1373) our Blessed Mother promises to grant seven graces to those who honor her and draw near to her and her Son every day by meditating on her dolors (sorrows) and entering into her grief.
"I will grant peace to their families."
"They will be enlightened about the Divine Mysteries."
"I will console them in their pains and I will accompany them in their work."
"I will give them as much as they ask for as long as it does not oppose the adorable will of my Divine Son or the sanctification of their souls."
"I will defend them in their spiritual battles with the infernal enemy and I will protect them at every instant of their lives."
"I will visibly help them at the moment of their death--they will see the face of their mother."
"I have obtained this grace from my divine Son, that those who propagate this devotion to my tears and dolors will be taken directly from this earthly life to eternal happiness, since all their sins will be forgiven and my Son will be their eternal consolation and joy."
Subpages (1): Devotional CD of Our Lady of Sorrows, 7-Day Meditation with Our Mother of Sorrows and Our Lady of Seven Sorrows Rosaries
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Simone ZanchiniAccordionist - Composer
Records/Video
SIMONE ZANCHINI INTERNATIONAL 5tet - Don't try this anywhere
with: John Patitucci - Adam Nussbaum - Ratko Zjaca - Stefano Bedetti.
Simone Zanchini - accordion, electronics
John Patitucci - bass
Adam Nussbaum - drums
Stefano Bedetti - sax
Ratko Zjaca - guitar
Why a tribute to Michael Brecker with an Accordion?
For two main reasons: first because I love contemporary refined jazz and I consider Brecker one of its greatest exponents, and then because, at least to my knowledge, no accordionist has ever done a tribute to Michael Brecker. From the very beginning I struggle to liberate my instrument from the stylistic influence that I call "tanghite“ (tango-mania). I always struggle to be gripped by a musician who plays the accordion and not just an accordionist: two different things to my ears! This is the reason for the choice of a tribute to Michael Brecker, an artist who has made the modern language and the search for a harmoni-cally complex phrasing his musical philosophy. And then, to give further identity to the music, I wanted to engage a rhythm section that had played the stages of the world with this great artist, sharing his music and life experiences and contributing to the evolution of the modern jazz language. This is the reason for the choice of the great musicians John Patitucci and Adam Nussbaum. Adam, a longtime collaborator with Brecker from the first band in 1987, took part in many important albums like "Don’t Try This At Home“, "Now You See It" and others. The same for John, who also played on Michael‘s last two recordings: "Wide Angles“ and "Pilgrimage“. I wish to clarify, finally, that this is not a tribute to Michael Brecker in a philological sense, because the project is composed of only original compositions, often heavily contaminated by languages from other musical worlds such as free-jazz, contemporary classical music and a certain type of rock; in an attempt to keep alive musical freshness and a desire for inno-vation.
SIMONE ZANCHINI JAZZ 4tet - "CASADEI SECONDO me"
Jazz tribute to the great musician SECONDO CASADEI, the most important Folk music' s composer in Italy.
Simone Zanchini - accordioni, electronics
Stefano Senni - bass
Zeno De Rossi - drums
In general, I have never been interested in tributes, homages, or revivals. I've always thought of them as old, a bit pathetic and tied to the past. However, when I was asked to pay tribute to Secondo Casadei, I could not refuse.
No, Casadei is another thing!
Casadei represents my past as well as that of all the inhabitants of Romagna, and not just a musical past but of life in a general sense. If you were born in Romagna and decided, at the age of seven, to play the accordion, Casadei's music automatically becomes an obligatory phase that invades your life happily. Yes, I started and grew up with those sounds. And today I find myself honoured to be able to put my hand on the melodies composed by this great musician, in an attempt to give them a new twist and a more modern musical freshness, imbued with all the contaminations that have formed me through the long course of my studies, just like classical music and jazz.
Z Z INTERNATIONAL 4tet
Top level international band that includes musicians from 4 differet countries. Original compositions.
Ratko Zjaca - guitar, effects
Martin Gjaconovski - bass
This ensemble possesses a unique and complete musical vision absorbing and reflecting the various musical styles of its members, while maintaining peaks of enviable individualism and the highest level of quality in music writing. The original pieces, written by Simone Zanchini and Ratko Zjaca, range from quiet intimacy to burning intensity. Different musical influences, including jazz, classical, world-music and free improvisation, compose and enhance this project made of original compositions. The pieces proposed dissolve the boundaries between written music and improvisation, creating unique soundscapes so deeply rooted in the history of music, and at the same time strongly pushed beyond the boundaries of modern music today.
One of the most interesting and innovative accordion and guitar player in Europe.
SALIS - ZANCHINI DUO "Free..!"
Meeting at the summit between the two "tightrope walkers" and virtuoso accordionists
Antonello Salis - accordion, piano
There was an encounter at the summit between the two “tightrope walkers” of the accordion and improvisational magicians as well as protagonists of the international jazz scene. Antonello Salis and Simone Zanchini are back together after ten years, to rejoice and experiment now as it was then, without boundaries and preconceptions. The possibility of continually exchanging roles, launched through free extemporaneous creations, allowed the two artists to fully enjoy the dynamic timbre of their respective instruments, enriched by the Antonello’s piano flights and refined electronic incursions of Simone and last but not least, by the authentic pleasure of the two friends having a tête-à-tête.
"Antonello Salis is the only Italian accordion player (who is not really an accordionist...) with whom, I think it is worth improvising !"
MIRABASSI - ZANCHINI DUO
The rhythms of South America and the pulsating depth of great swing, mingle with the sounds of today's modern jazz
Gabriele Mirabassi - clarinet
Simone Zanchini - accordion
There was an encounter at the summit between these two great virtuosos and their instruments as protagonists of the international music scene. The musical intersection that distinguishes both allows them to express themselves easily from time to time in the world of jazz and classical music. With this duo, the spirit of the rhythms of South America and the pulsating depth of the old swing, mingle with the sounds of today's modern jazz, which is expressed in the compositional style of both. The eclecticism of the two musicians allowed them to wander and improvise in an extemporaneous manner with a very high communicative interplay, alternating original compositions with famous standards of the Latin-American repertoire.
The great strength and sound of a soloist of the calibre of Gabriele Mirabassi, more than 30 years at the top among the best clarinettists in the world, is supported by the sonorous and creative magma of Simone Zanchini, considered one of the most original and innovative accordionists of the international scene.
ACCORDION SOLO - Almost Acoustic
A single Suite of about 70 minutes without interruption will accompany the listener on an exciting and unexpected musical journey
Simone Zanchini - accordion, electrocics, kazoo, toys.
The research that Zanchini has been pursuing for many years adorns the accordion with an unusual and personal touch, where the timbre-expressive possibilities of the instrument are exalted beyond any kind or style. An accordion player among the most interesting and innovative on the international scene, he moves with the same mastery through classical music, contemporary, jazz and super-refined incursions. The solitary performance of Zanchini is developed on this boundary between the genres, a decidedly creative artistic experience, each time different and unpredictable. Moments of impromptu improvisation alternate original compositions by Zanchini himself and pieces by great composers such as George Gershwin, Charlie Parker, Duke Ellington, and Astor Piazzolla, all masterfully mixed by a continuous creative flow and improvisation, for about 70 minutes of music without interruption.
A single Suite of about 70 minutes will accompany the listener on an exciting and unexpected musical journey, from the first to the last sound.
ACCORDION SOLO - My accordion's concept
Getting away from the code..this is the brave, pretentious and sometime risky purpose of this solo performans.
Simone Zanchini - accordion + live-electronics
"I have always been convinced that certain acoustic drones that dwell in our brains belong only to us, magnificently unique, transmissible only through the emotions of improvisation and perceptible only if armed with good "availability." We live in an era that seems to particularly need acknowledged and recognizable expressions and those I call reproducers of style.
So there! ... this freeing oneself from the code is a courageous and sometimes risky attempt of this Solo. It is a work moreover expressed with the accordion, an instrument among the most connoted and strongly rooted in recognizable music."
"COCCO" CANTINI - ZANCHINI DUO
Jazz + motorbikes.......
Stefano 'Cocco' Cantini - soprano sax, tenor sax / Bmw Gs 1200.
Simone Zanchini - accordion, electronics / Kawasaki Vulcan 1600.
The duo proposes an instrumental combination with very few precedents. The two artists started to work together, first as a quartet, then joined together to form a duo, sharing a passion for melody, research and motorcycles. The ability to continuously exchange roles and fully enjoy the timbre-dynamic possibilities of the respective instruments and their fascinating sound palette, allows this duo to involve both jazz lovers and classical music fans. The repertoire, consisting of original compositions by the two musicians and songs of international standing, never loses the path of melody: great strength and success of a soloist such as Stefano Cocco Cantini, defined by Down Beat as one of the best and original soprano saxophones of the world scene, and Simone Zanchini, one of the most eclectic and talented accordionists of Europe.
SIMONE ZANCHINI JAZZ 5tet - Fuga per Art
A tribute to my "guru" ART VAN DAMME.
Andrea Dulbecco - vibes
Giancarlo Bianchetti - guitar
Massimo Manzi - drums
The Quintet reinterprets in a personal key one of the greatest exponents of the accordion jazz: Art Van Damme. The songs of the great musician, characterized by the sound created by the accordion-vibraphone combination, alternate between original compositions by Zanchini himself, who always respects the overseas language of mainstream-jazz that few know how to express with the accordion, especially in Europe.
"Dear Simone , I’m very much impressed by your playing
My congrats to you for showing what the accordion can sound like in jazz"
Art Van Damme, April 2009
ALL DIRECTIONS Trio
Simone Zanchini - Mario Marzi - Paolo Zannini.
Mario Marzi - saxophones
Paolo Zannini - piano
The group is made up of three musicians from “La Scala” theatre of Milano; It born desiring to play music of artists that, starting from popular and folk music, have found a new universal music language. The Trio present piece of great and famous south-American composers: E.Nazareth, E.Gismonti, H.Pascal, A.Piazzolla ecc.
Simone Zanchini © 2020. All Rights Reserved.
Info and Booking: +39 392 9862385
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269 resultados para 'towns'
NOTICIAS 269 noticias encontradas
What to do - music and more
Denise Bush
Festivals Fiestas de San Antón San Antón festival. Various towns and villages. From Friday 17 until Sunday 19 January This weekend are various festivals of San Antonio Abad or San Antón across the province. In Osunillas in Mijas today, Friday, ... besides the traditional blessing of animals there is a unique tradition, single people take it in turns to throw stones between the legs of the statue above the door to the church. Fiestas de San Sebastián Various towns and villages. From Friday 17 ... until Sunday 19 January Monday 20 January is the annual Fiesta de San Sebastián and many towns and villages celebrate with religious services over the weekend. Casabermeja celebrates the festival the following week, on 26 January. Events Marbella
Provincial authority to spend nearly five million euros on improving inland water supply
The Diputación provincial authority has announced an investment of 4.9 million euros to help a large area of inland Malaga province improve its water supply. In total, 17 towns and villages in the area around Antequera will benefit from the move.
The Three Kings make their way to Andalucía by camel, boat, float or helicopter
SUR IN ENGLISH / JENNIE RHODES
...them. The biggest processions take part in the cities and it is even possible to reserve a seat from which to watch the spectacle, however all the towns and villages will be putting on a show to thrill small children. Starting times vary but more
More than 5,600 people in Andalucía began treatment for alcoholism last year
JOSÉ LUIS PIEDRA
...and Internet. The Junta also has another community programme, focused on preventing drug dependency. This is called 'Ciudades ante las Drogas' (Towns against Drugs), and is carried out in conjunction with local councils. The main objective is to
Mark Nayler
...settlements for around €100,000, which wouldn’t even get you a flat in most areas of the UK. Sadder still, many of Spain’s smallest settlements are heading the same way. According to a report published last year by the Spanish Federation of Towns and
Floods damage Navarra Towns
The streets of Tafalla and nearby villages in Navarra, northern Spain, were this week filled with damaged cars and debris swept along after heavy rains swelled the river Zidacos. The rain that fell in just three hours on Monday afternoon was tripl
Vox does well in the south and almost comes second in Andalucía
...vote to 9.48% (one seat). Vox rose to 19.58% (two seats) and the last seat went to Unidas Podemos. When analysed by town hall area, almost all areas of Malaga province voted for the PSOE as top party. But some towns put Vox first, including Coín,
Local towns on the Costa del Sol fail green-space test
PILAR R. QUIRÓS
...economic crisis put paid to plans to increase the green zones in many Spanish cities and towns, partly due to a lack of funds and also because it is not enough simply to create these garden areas. Trees and plants are living beings and have to be maintained ... larger places in Malaga province have failed in their environmental duty. With the exception of Marbella, which has 29.7 square metres of green zone per local resident, Antequera, with 29.2 and Vélez-Malaga with 19.09, the other large towns do not meet ... 29.7 square metres of green space per inhabitant, putting it at the head of the large towns of Malaga province. Parks such as Tres Jardines, with 80,000 square metres, or the Boulevard in San Pedro Alcántara, which is 50,000 square metres, are in
Number of British residents rises for the first time in six years as Brexit approaches
Ivan Gelibter
More than three years after voters in the United Kingdom decided to leave the European Union, British residents in the province of Malaga are increasing in number, at least according to the official figures. This is the first time that the number of
The Kings on the Costa
Sol were brought much more modern gifts by the Magi who toured the area, arriving by various means including by boat or helicopter, then made their way through the streets of towns and villages on horseback, floats and even camels. The cavalcades,
Inland towns and villages around Antequera join together to complain about poor water supply in summer months
The mayors of 14 towns and villages around Antequera and the north of Malaga province have signed a joint declaration calling for an "urgent" meeting to find a solution to the shortages of drinking water faced in their municipalities. The town
Green homework for the Costa del Sol
MATÍAS STUBER
...the west side of the city. He also pointed out another problem in big towns in the province: the creation of so-called heat islands. "That's something we are already suffering from and it will get worse. There's starting to be a difference in ... structure, we would help to cool the atmosphere," he explained. Reducing traffic in towns is another subject which needs consideration. Salvo wants local politicians to commit to increasing public transport, but starting from one essential premise:
A celebration of Malaga's unique folklore
AGUSTÍN PELÁEZ
...known as 'pandas' are violins, guitars, cymbals, tambourines and even lutes. The words of the songs are mostly about girlfriends, wives, working in the countryside, festivals and towns and cities, although there is always a certain amount of
Madrid area is Spain's richest and Andalusian towns are poorest
...which looks at data on income and other factors from the 405 municipalities with more than 20,000 inhabitants. According to the report, the bastions of the rich are in the Madrid region. After Pozuelo de Alarcón come the nearby towns of Bobadilla del ... Basque places; Getxo, a coastal town near Bilbao, (18,599 euros); and the city of San Sebastián (17,203 euros). Andalusian unemployment At the other end of the scale, nine of the least wealthy towns are in Andalucía. Bottom of the list is Níjar, a ... fruit and flower growing town near Almería, (6,253 euros), and Los Palacios in Seville province (6,552 euros). More than two thirds of the 50 towns with the lowest incomes are in Andalucía. There is a close correlation between lower income towns in
Towns on the western Costa del Sol increase recycling tally
Charo MÁRQUEZ
Figures released by the western Costa del Sol's Mancomunidad, which oversees refuse collection in eleven towns, show that recycling in the area increased in 2018. Paper and card collection was up 11% with nearly 10,000 tonnes; this works out at
Bollywood looks to the Axarquía for film locations
EUGENIO CABEZAS
Representatives the UK film industry, including former Conservative politician, Eric Ollernshaw, director Sachin Karande and actor, Rajdeep Choudhury, have been in the Axarquía this week to visit possible Bollywood film locations. They have been ac
Local governments ready to get down to business after swearing-in ceremonies
Three of the province's large towns have a Socialist PSOE mayor after last Saturday: Benalmádena, Torremolinos and Vélez-Málaga. In Benalmádena Víctor Navas gets another term in office as mayor after receiving the votes of the two Izquierda Unida
Costa del Sol towns plan a variety of events to mark St Patrick's Day
Tony Bryant
The Costa del Sol will be raising the shamrocks and enjoying a steady flow of Guinness this weekend, as many towns will host huge street parties to mark the death of Ireland's patron saint. Ireland meets Malaga for St Patrick's Day
From the US to find their roots in Alhaurín
...travel back to the roots of a culture which until ten years ago these Americans knew nothing about. Close links between two towns which have been twinned thanks to their history The connection between Alhaurín de la Torre and New Iberia is recent, ... between the two towns thanks to their shared history. Cinthya Breaux Sites, who organised the trip, explains that the key to this journey lies in knowing about the different groups of people who emigrated to Lousiana. "I have found out that some of my ... more. The Sites travel agency is organising more and more journeys of this type and the links between these two twinned towns have strengthened even further as a result of this visit, because she has now had the opportunity to see Alhaurín de la Torre
Towns may still protest at flood aid delays
Inland towns severely affected by flooding in record-breaking rain in October say they may take to the streets again if promised emergency aid doesn't arrive soon. The mayor of Teba has said that if there is no news by 21 December, two months ... after the severe damage to the town, protests will start. Neighbouring Campillos has not put a deadline as yet. Multi-million-euro compensation payments have been promised for individual residents and the towns overall.
Casares and Manilva start putting in CCTV cameras
The neighbouring municipalities of Casares and Manilva have started putting in networks of CCTV cameras. The aim of both initiatives is to improve security and also keep watch over possible traffic offences or congestion in the built-up areas. Cas
2022 target set to end dumping of raw sewage in Guadalhorce
F. JIMÉNEZ / F. TORRES
...to utility bills on treatment plants, and so meeting EU guidelines. But some towns and villages don't have proper facilities. At the moment, raw and barely-treated effluent pours into the Guadalhorce valley basin via four large pipes and around a ... said that the Junta is doing all it can to end the problem. Fernández was until recently mayor of Coín - one of the towns affected. He explained that the new lower Guadalhorce wastewater plant is now serving the towns of Álora and Pizarra and will
Parts of the Costa's most-populated towns are sinking, says report
An international team of experts, including researchers from the University of Malaga, has confirmed subsidence of up to 6.5 millimetres a year in two areas in Torremolinos and Benalmádena. In Torremolinos it is the La Colina area, to the east of the
Campillos and Teba added to high flood risk list by the Junta
Jesús HINOJOSA
The towns of Campillos and Teba, devastated by flooding in October last year, have been added to the Junta de Andalucía regional government's revised flood risk map. This map first came into force three years ago and caused panic among town halls ... and investors as the planning panorama changed significantly and meant that zones at risk of flooding were subjected to new regulations. However, in the case of these two towns, where a fireman died and dozens of families were left homeless, this
April, a month filled with foodie events around Malaga
JAVIER ALMELLONES
April is going to be a busy month for many towns and villages around the province as it is a popular month for a wide variety of food festivals. The first one is Día del Pipeo in Casarabonela on 6 April . It is based on a typical dish of the area,
Malaga gets ready to switch on its lights as other Costa towns turn festive as well
J. SOTO / I. GELIBTER
Christmas is coming and town centres are working hard to attract shoppers and sightseers. Today, Friday, 30 November, Malaga city centre switches on its eagerly awaited illuminations, with the central point as ever being Calle Larios. Here the famo
Three Costa towns receive 'green igloo' awards for recycling glass
...residents of Manilva recycled 616,960 kilos of glass, which is, on average, 42.3 kilos per person. In total, 2017 saw Casares residents recycle 415,380 kilos of glass, 72.3 per person. Fuengirola, as the biggest of these towns, recycled 1,699,360 kilos of
Eight more towns and villages added to flood-relief list
The Junta de Andalucía agreed on Tuesday to add eight more local towns and villages to the list of places already announced that will receive emergency regional government aid. The aid is being distributed following the damage caused by extremely
The Three Kings bring joy to the Costa del Sol
Daryl Finch
The festive season in Spain came to a climax on Sunday as Los Reyes Magos, the Three Wise Men, delivered their gifts to the best-behaved from last year. The Three Kings, Balthazar, Gaspar and Melchior, arrived in spectacular fashion on Saturday at
Inland towns in Malaga province clean up after worst torrential rain in history
Areas in the north of the province of Malaga are attempting to clear up the mess after torrential rain caused serious flood damage in Bobadilla, Campillos, Teba, Casarabonela and Ardales, as well as the Ronda area and Estepona Sunday morning. An An
National fire prevention initiative comes to Torremolinos bullring
...bullring, is organised by the MAPFRE Foundation and the APTB, an association that specialises in citizen protection and emergency rescue. The awareness programme, now in its thirteenth edition, will visit 35 towns all over Spain this year and will include
Second phase of CCTV project brings another 111 cameras to streets of Marbella
Héctor Barbotta
Muñoz last week, will be installed in the old towns of Marbella and San Pedro Alcántara. This phase two, however, still has to be approved by the central government department for Andalucía.
Wild boars to be culled in Mijas and other towns after local damage grows
The Junta de Andalucía regional government announced emergency measures on Tuesday to eradicate or reduce the wild boar and pig population in over 100 municipalities across the region, including Mijas. The move comes after a surge in numbers of the
Call for residents to be on look-out for thieves taking drain covers and grids
It used to be copper cabling that was stolen from local streets, but now daring thieves have turned their attention to taking manhole covers, drain covers and grids in a bid to get extra cash. Town halls on the western Costa, including Mijas, Fueng
Accident deaths at lowest level ever on province's roads
JUAN CANO / ÁLVARO FRÍAS
...killed on the roads linking towns and villages ever recorded in a year in Malaga province. The data excludes deaths on local roads in urban areas. The data has been complied by Sur and confirmed by different sources, although it may vary a bit from the
Benalmádena and Torremolinos join forces to promote tourism
...town halls of Torremolinos and Benalmádena. The fair covered a broad category within the service industry, with a special emphasis on the attractions offered by the two towns. Representatives from the local hotel and catering sector and travel agents
Support sessions offer comfort for those affected by cancer
The Cudeca Foundation has initiated a campaign to promote its monthly support groups for English-speaking people with cancer or other life-limiting illnesses. MEETINGS uEstepona. American Club of Estepona on the first Thursday of the month at 11.30
13 December 1938: The birth of ONCE, help for the blind
Jennie Rhodes
...disabilities. ONCE continues to raise funds to provide services for the blind and people with serious visual impairment, as well as those with other disabilities, and sellers are a familiar sight in all Spanish towns, cities and villages.
Six towns celebrate winning 50 million euros in EU funds and explain how it will be spent
The saying 'third time lucky' can now be applied to six towns in Malaga which are finally to be granted European funds to promote integrated sustainable urban development under the EDUSI scheme. After their two previous applications were turned ... Torremolinos is to be given 6,210,041 euros, Cártama five million and Rincón de la Victoria 3,05,020. Three towns have been disappointed, however, and will receive no funding at all: Alhaurín el Grande, which applied for the money for sustainable tourism
Rail services paralysed as bridges fall and tracks hang loose after inland flooding
Antonio javier LÓPEZ / Ignacio LILLO
The storm that swept across parts of northern and western Malaga province last weekend cut off some railway lines, forcing the suspension of services for the time being. From early on Sunday morning there were no services on the Seville-Malaga, Mal
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Society Tech-savvy Vietnam coffee farmers brew global takeover
Tech-savvy Vietnam coffee farmers brew global takeover
TN News
Thursday, April 18, 2013 19:00 Email Print
This picture taken on March 9, 2013 shows a guard standing near a collection of coffee machines inside Trung Nguyen Coffee village in Buon Ma Thuot Town in the Central Highlands province of Dak Lak. Most Vietnamese coffee farmers have never heard of a double tall skinny latte, but they could tell you the price of the beans that go into one in their sleep.
Most Vietnamese coffee farmers have never heard of a double tall skinny latte, but they could tell you the price of the beans that go into one in their sleep.
From hi-tech Israeli irrigation systems to text message updates of global prices for the commodity, coffee farming in Vietnam's Central Highlands has come a long way since the French first introduced the bean over a century ago.
"I used to carry my coffee to market by bicycle," said 44-year-old farmer Ama Diem. "Now I check the bean price on my mobile phones" before making the trip.
By texting "CA" to the number 8288 from any Vietnamese mobile phone, farmers almost instantly receive a message with the London prices of robusta coffee beans and the New York price of arabica beans from a data supply firm.
Farmers are only too aware that the price of coffee the second most traded commodity in the world after oil can move quickly.
"We only take the coffee to market when we can be sure of getting a high price," Diem told AFP at his plantation outside Vietnam's coffee capital Buon Ma Thuot. "We check the price a lot."
Vietnamese coffee farmers have changed the global market: if you had a cup this morning, there is a high chance you consumed at least some Vietnamese beans with companies such as Nestle and Britain's Costa Coffee among major buyers.
In 20 years, Vietnam went from contributing less than 0.1 percent of world production in 1980 to some 13 percent in 2000 staggering growth that has been partially blamed for the collapse of global coffee prices in the 1990s.
Vietnam is now the world's second-largest coffee producer, but is seen as high volume rather than high quality its bitter-tasting robusta wins few accolades internationally and is mostly exported as raw beans.
"Vietnam is an amazing phenomenon," said Jonathan Clark, general director of coffee exporter Dakman.
Festival highlights ambitions for egalitarian coffee
Vietnam coffee chain Trung Nguyen targets Starbucks on home turf
Starbucks: leave cà phê sữa Ä‘á alone
Starbucks Vietnam debut challenged by light coffee image
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He said exports "shot up" last year to nearly rival Brazil, the world's top exporter and producer.
Last year, Vietnam exported 1.73 million tons of coffee, worth some US$3.67 billion and accounting for more than 50 percent of the world's robusta, which is used in instant coffee or other blends.
Putting Vietnam's robusta on the map
Coffee consumption in Asia is on the rise and roasters are eyeing the low-cost country where there is no tax on coffee exports to set up operations to boost their regional presence, Clark said.
As consumption volumes have stagnated in the west, Vietnam, with its growing middle class and long standing love of coffee, is full of "tremendous opportunities," Jinlong Wang, president of Starbucks Asia Pacific, told AFP.
Starbucks which opened its first store in southern Ho Chi Minh City in February says it could open hundreds more in the near future in Vietnam, which it describes as a "dynamic, exciting" market.
The country's volcanic soil is perfect for growing coffee, and while global coffee drinkers are more used to arabica - which has 1.5 percent caffeine - they should wake up and smell the joys of 2.5 percent strength robusta, according to Vietnam's "coffee king" Dang Le Nguyen Vu.
The founder of home-grown coffee giant Trung Nguyen - which has 55 stores in Vietnam and five in Singapore - is passionate about putting Vietnam's robusta coffee on the map.
"Robusta is not lower quality. It's just that globally, people have learned to drink arabica coffee," Vu told AFP in an interview at the Trung Nguyen Village in Buon Ma Thuot.
A big part of the company's work is to improve the quality of local beans, working with farmers to introduce hi-tech irrigation, reduce pesticide use and boost their income.
Trung Nguyen already exports to 60 countries and Vu said Starbucks' recent arrival in his homeland had increased his determination to open cafés in the United States offering Vietnam's traditional style of thick, strong coffee brewed in individual drip filters.
"We must be able to surpass Starbucks. We must offer something more attractive for US consumers," Vu said.
"I want the world to understand that Vietnamese coffee is the best, the cleanest, most special coffee."
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Uncooperative woman stays in car, towed to police station
Typhoon Rai weakens after hitting central Vietnam
2 get death sentence for smuggling 7kg heroin into Vietnam
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Difference between revisions of "Gauntlet (NES)"
(→Good)
[[Category: Game Mechanic - Playable Female Character]]
[[Category: Game Mechanic - Unwinnable State]]
[[Category: Media Theme - Fantasy]]
[[Category: Arcade Games]]
[[Category: NES Games]]
[[Category: Action]]
[[Category: Adventure]]
[[Category: Fantasy]]
[[Category: Dungeon Crawl]]
[[Category: Multi-Player]]
[[Category: Multi-Player Co-op]]
[[Category: Games I've Beaten]]
North American licensed box art.
Gauntlet is a fantasy dungeon crawler and shooter developed by Atari and published by Tengen for the NES in 1987 with a PlayChoice-10 version released in 1988. Unlike the original arcade game which plays forever, the NES port has a rudimentary story and ending. This game is part of the Gauntlet universe.
My brother and I got this game used around 1990 and played it through nearly to the end, however, we missed most of the secret rooms, so we could never get into the final stage. I really loved the game when I was younger, but now I see a huge amount of flaws in it. Nothing insurmountable, but it would take a fair amount of work to make this game less tedious. After watching a speed runner blow through the game in under 20 minutes, I decided to try and beat the game. Rather than go through the hassle of trying to find every single secret, I used a walk through to learn about the entrances to the secret rooms, but finished the rest of the game on my own.
When I first played the game, I fixated on the barbarian because he was the biggest and strongest. After playing him for awhile, I became annoyed with his slowness and inability to shoot through cracks in the walls. As I became more interested in the occult, my favorite shifted to the wizard because he had the strongest magic. But, after becoming annoyed by how weak he is, I liked the Valkyrie the most because I viewed her as the most versatile with the best armor, and adequate speed, attack, and magic. My current favorite is the elf because he is the fastest, which allows you to get through the game quicker.
As a child, I stumbled upon a useful bug in this game. If you get stunned, the countdown continues to count even if you press select to see your stats, and, by the time you get back to the game, the countdown is over, and the enemies never get a chance to hurt you.
3.4 Gallery
I own this game. I beat it on 2019-09-22 with help from a walk through to find the entrances to the secret rooms.
Best Version: 50%
The game competently takes most of what was good with the arcade original while adding elements to better suit the home console like permanent upgrades, health leveling, and an actual victory condition.
The graphics are pretty decent for the NES. The large character images at the beginning of the game look great, and I like how there are multiple backgrounds in each new world.
The game has fantastic music composed by Hal Canon.
Being able to choose a character from a group of different choices is always nice in any game, and their differences are significant here.
The various permanent power up potions are a great idea.
Giving each world its own look and feel was a nice design choice.
Basing a player's level on the amount of treasure they've collected is an interesting touch that actually makes it worthwhile to grab the loot, unlike many games where score is unimportant.
Having health restoration being based on a successful exit of the treasure room is a good idea as well. Players need to balance their greed with their desire to survive, just like in the common trope.
Most of the maps have hidden tiles that can be uncovered when shot for a minor bonus or secret exit. This adds replay value to the game as these pleasant surprises keep getting uncovered in subsequent play-throughs.
The password is short enough to be manageable, and it's automatically entered for you when you continue after dying.
The game has wonderful cover art.
The game is longer than it needs to be, and you'll probably be pretty bored by the end. Many of the levels feel the same, in fact, many of them are the same, just with a different tileset.
Death is an obnoxious enemy. The elf can outrun him, avoiding trap panels can keep his imprisoned, and you can sometimes exploit his chase algorithm, but the slower classes often have no alternative but to watch their life drain away.
The invisible walls in world 4 are overused.
Reflective shot is actually a burden since you're only allowed one shot out at a time.
The locked chests are a good idea, but putting so many bad items in them like poison and death is just a kick in the teeth. Keys are such a rarity that experimenting with them is very costly.
The item alcove with no entrance in room 56 is a mean tease.
Excluding treasure rooms and secret rooms, the game randomly assigns the music. The designers missed the opportunity to add more atmosphere to specific levels because of this.
The end boss is, like the bulk of the game, is very tedious to defeat.
The fact that you can only have one projectile out at a time is a nuisance early in the game, but it becomes very deadly later in the game when speedy grunts can take down hundreds of hit points in the time it takes for your projectile to leave the screen. It forces you to have to very-slowly work your way through the screens and plan your shots carefully, which is very tedious. A shot speed up bonus would help, but allowing multiple shots would solve the problem entirely.
The later levels are staggeringly difficult. Even skilled players often die several times in world 5 where even a simple mistake can result in the loss of hundreds of hit points. There are just too many enemies, moving too quickly, and spawning too frequently. You can always use the password to restart the room at full life, which is usually enough to let you finish the room, but you'll usually die in the next one. This makes world 5 very exhausting.
The game really shouldn't let you progress if you missed a secret room since the password is necessary in order to beat the game. You can spend hours getting all the way to the end, but, if you missed the first secret room, you can't win. Mordak warns you, but it can easily be misinterpreted as a typical villainous taunt.
Finding the entrances to each of the secret rooms is a very arduous chore. The maps from the manual give you a general idea which rooms will get you to them, but most of them require you to do a lot of research testing out where each exit goes, and finding hidden exits. If you fail to reach a secret room, you need to enter a password from a previous level (which means also keeping a password log for pretty much -every- room, and having to reenter them over and over again.
The secret rooms themselves are a pain as well. You have only a limited amount of time to find a hidden question mark block and escape through the, often hidden, exit. On several maps, this requires finding a shootable block which is very had to do when you have so little time. Some rooms even require you to bring extra keys to succeed. If you fail to exit with the question mark block in the time limit, you need to reset from an earlier room. If you don't have enough keys, you need to reset much further back to when you have extras, then replay the levels without wasting keys.
Near the end of the game, a lot of the exits that keep you on the path to victory are obnoxiously hidden requiring you to search the very dangerous rooms carefully to find them. This is not very fun.
The teleporters rarely send you where you want to go, so you end up wasting a lot of time, and thereby your life, hoping they'll send you where you want to go. This is extremely frustrating, and they either should have been fixed or replaced.
The world 4 treasure room, with its teleporters, stun tiles, and fake exits, makes it impossible to test each exit before the time runs out. Even a speed-boosted elf will only have about a 1-in-5 chance of making it out successfully.
The game sometimes generates passwords that don't work, and I'm sure it's not a copy error, because they're pre-entered for you if you die and still don't work.
I love this game's box art. Each of the four characters is prominently featured and competently painted, and there is a sense of dangerous adventure seen in their poses. The unlicensed box art is essentially the same, only with the left and bottom edges covered over in flat gold. The painting looks a bit unfinished, but it still looks great.
North American licensed box.
Nintendo Power, part 1.
Graphic Sheet - Characters.
Comic by Zac Gorman.
youtube.com/watch?v=w8gHDiAf3-s - NES Works.
youtube.com/watch?v=WPyRbAqw73o - Speed run.
youtube.com/watch?v=MNe97IpudZY - Two-player longplay.
Retrieved from "http://www.thealmightyguru.com/Wiki/index.php?title=Gauntlet_(NES)&oldid=27993"
Video Game Rank - 5
Video Game Graphics Rank - 5
Video Game Sound Rank - 6
Links to MobyGames
Links to StrategyWiki
Links to GameFAQs
Links to VGMPF
Links to NESHacker
Links to TCRF
Video Game Prime Order - Action, Strategy, Adventure
Game Mechanic - Playable Female Character
Game Mechanic - Unwinnable State
Media Theme - Fantasy
Multi-Player Co-op
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The Ivy: feeling invisible in a place to be seen
The thing that I can't get over about my lunch at The Ivy today (Saturday) was that I booked it yesterday, about seven o'clock in the evening. I'm still recovering from the shock. Fans of the Ricky Gervais show Extras might remember from the final episode how Gervais's character, Andy, measures his success by his ability to procure a table at The Ivy. As his fame falters, his ultimate humiliation is to be denied entry to The Ivy altogether, and here I am, having a lunch there that I booked only yesterday.
I'm not sure what even made me think to try and get a table at The Ivy, perhaps I wanted a laugh and wondered how many months I'd have to wait. In the old days, it was between three and six. To rub salt in The Ivy wounds, it wasn't even my first choice, I thought I might try Ramsay's Petrus but they were fully booked with TopTable showing Wednesday as the earliest available table. What in the world is going on I wonder?
On my first visit to The Ivy, ooh, about 15 years ago, Eric Clapton was on the next table to me, and Dave Stewart of the Eurythmics was across the way. It was the kind of place to go simply because it was THE place to go. For mortals, it could be the dining highlight of the year without anyone remembering or caring what food they had eaten. I don't remember what food I had on those very early visits but I doubt it has changed much from its current offering of classic British comfort dishes. People might find it strange that celebrities flocked to a restaurant that offered shepherds pie or sausage and mash, but they did (do?).
It did feel special walking through the door of The Ivy once again but as the meal progressed, I grew a little weary of it. The food was fine enough, griddled sea prawns with chilli pepper and wild garlic provided fresh prawns cooked well with just the right amount of chilli to provide a tingle. For my main, I thought I might try their shepherd's pie to sample this most famous of ordinary dishes, it was big, rich and leaves you fit only for an afternoon nap. For dessert, Scandinavian iced berries with hot white chocolate sauce is a lovely combination of hot cold, acidity and freshness, crunch and goo. I delighted in it once again.
But the service, which had started impressively with a smile and a warm welcome, proved ultimately poor despite their smart attire and endless kinetic energy. The silly errors you could dismiss, knives and forks laid the wrong way round for example, but no water was offered (and when I asked for a glass, the wait still left me wondering if I needed to ask a second time); my waiter never once asked if the food was okay on any of the courses even when clearing away the plates; not asking if I wanted tea, coffee or something stronger after I finished my dessert; left sitting at the table waiting, my scrunched napkin on top making it clear I was now finished but generally ignored as I sought the bill. The waiter muttered something when I finally paid the bill, it could have been thank you, it could easily have been something ruder. With the bill paid, I left my seat, walked across the restaurant, passed the front desk and stepped out the door without anybody saying thank you or goodbye. The cumulative impact is simply to believe they didn't really care whether I was there or not, despite hitting £80 a head, despite the service charge and despite a £2 cover charge for chewy bread. I guess they joined The Ivy to serve Eric Clapton, and here they are having to serve me; I can understand the crushing disappointment they must be feeling.
It's hard to know exactly how to categorise The Ivy. It was busy, and it is a restaurant where small tables are mercilessly packed in, so maybe they've added capacity and now believe profit is more important than scarcity. The Ivy crowd however was a mixed bunch, a handful of well to do's but otherwise it could have been a snapshot of Jamie's audience from over the road, for there were a sufficient number of T-shirts, jeans and trainers. The celebs have probably decamped upstairs to the private members club (membership by invitation only) to avoid the tourists who are now widely evident in the restaurant. Only viewing The Ivy through the lens of Hard Rock Cafe or Madame Tussauds does it seem to make sense given the quality and value of the food elsewhere, outclassed in every way, even this year, by places like Social Eating House or The Clove Club. The Ivy has always been a step back in time, it just now feels like a bigger step back than ever before.
The Ivy in the past has not been a camera friendly place so the pictures below were rushed off with a little point and shoot affair rather than the usual. With the influx of tourists however, there were plenty of cameras on tables and even the odd flash going off to capture the moment of 'we were here, where Ricky Gervais was on that program, whatsitsname'. I still don't think management approve, but it is not the same old customer base and they're fighting a losing battle.
griddled sea prawns
frozen berries and hot chocolate sauce
Alan Spedding ( cumbriafoodie ) link
Not impressed at all , the kids could make the lot for less than a tenner at home. Surviving on its reputation.
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Angel – White Hot, Sinful & Live Without A Net (2019 Remasters w/bonus tracks) Part Two
Angel‘s Sinful (1979) is just filled to the brim with great pop-becoming-rock songs – proto hair metal, with the same clearly audible seventies hard rock undertones as its predecessor. Part of the songwriting secret was the fact that Gregg Giuffria, vocalist Frank Demino, guitarist Punky Meadows and drummer, Barry Brandt all contributed, in various combinations. The “feel” of each song differed slightly depending on the writers who created it.
Eddie Leonetti’s production was condemned by fans for being underpowered and over polished, and there’s merit in that argument. Looking back, you might conclude that too often the band’s fragile harmonies and catchy tunes were badly served by the primitive recording techniques of the late seventies, especially on the “pure” AOR tracks like ‘Don’t Take Your Love’ and ‘Waited A Long Time’. They’re trying to soar, but just can’t reach escape velocity.
Elsewhere, sturdier but eminently tuneful tracks like ‘LA Lady’ and ‘Bad Time’ bully their way into your face and your mind. They’re hardly belligerent or bombastic, but the emphatic arrangements -bringing up the guitars and using the keyboards as punctuation – carry these songs over the line with energy to spare. This remaster, as with White Hot, carries two bonus tracks, ‘Virginia’, written for the soundtrack of “Foxes” movie. And a cover of the Left Bank’s big sixties’ hit ‘Walk Away Renee’.
But still that bigtime breakthough proved elusive. Labelmates Kiss had exploded into the headlines with the multimillion selling Kiss Alive, thus Angel were afforded a live double with Live Without A Net, in the belief this would do it for them. It didn’t. It certainly proved that live they came alive, but it just didn’t sell in any volume. And still, it’s well worth owning, if only, amongst others, for an aggressively infectious version of ‘Tower’ and a whipsmart run through a cover of Mott’s/Bowie’s ‘All The Young Dudes’.
Sinful had been the band’s fifth and last studio album, a final tilt at fame and fortune. It failed commercially and the band members went their separate ways. Looking back, it’s clear that Angel paved the way for the rise and rise of the Glam/Hair metal phenomenon in the eighties. Regretably, some bands just peak too soon.
Reviewed by Brian McGowan
Released by Rock Candy Records September 2019
Tracklists:
Sinful:
Don’t Take Your Love
LA Lady
Just Can’t Take It
Waited A Long Time
I’ll Bring The Whole World
I’ll Never Fall In Love Again
Wild And Hot
Lovers Live On
Virginia (bonus track)
Walk Away Renee (bonus track)
Live Without A Net:
Don’t Leave Me Lonely
Telephone Exchnage
Ain’t Gonna Eat My Heart Out
Anyway You Want It
Wild & Hot
Rock&Rollers
Hold Me Squeeze Me
Got Love If You Want It
Feelin Right
20th Century Foxes
Brian McGowan
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News SIHH 2012
Tourbillon Split Seconds Competition Chronograph RM 056 Felipe Massa Sapphire
An entire case cutted and milled from solid blocks of sapphire
The Watch Quote™ - January 16th, 2012
The highly skeletonized RM 056 movement reproduces all the characteristics of the RMCC1 caliber, a manual winding tourbillon movement with hours, minutes, chronograph split seconds, power reserve, torque and function indicators.
This new caliber is not a simple exercise of merely reviewing the existing RM008 movement; it utilizes the best design characteristics combined with further advances, bringing it to an unequaled level of performance for long-term timekeeping precision and durability.
The movement weight has been reduced by 20%, requiring the creation of more than 400 new parts. The skeletonized grade 5 titanium baseplate with its light weight/high strength ratio makes it an ideal choice as the foundation for perfect functionality of the going train as well as offering a great resistance to corrosion. A fast rotating winding barrel, balance with variable inertia, function indicator, torque indicator and split seconds mechanism with improved performance are only a small selection of what the Richard Mille engineers did to create this extraordinary watch, a cutting edge timepiece.
A unique evolution of this tourbillon split seconds Chrono Competition RM 056 Felipe Massa is that its entire case -front bezel, caseband and back bezel - is cut and milled from solid blocks of sapphire, a feat of engineering and a strong visual statement. The production of this sapphire structure took years of research and testing in order to ensure an adequate response to the demands of strength and comfort. This is the first time that such a complex case design has been realized in this material. Sapphire is known as a particularly scratch-resistant material and one of the hardest materials on Earth, with a Mohs rating of 9.0. Made of aluminium oxide (Al2O3) crystals, it is transparent thanks to its molecular composition. The machining of such components was the biggest challenge faced by Richard Mille, a challenge made all the more difficult as the sapphire machining process is exceptionally delicate. Although extremely tough, sapphire does not allow for even the slightest error during milling and cutting. Creating a case of this quality took over 1000 hours of machining, of which 430 hours were spent on pre-forming the case components and 350 hours on polishing the whole watch case. The cutting tools must be specially designed and tipped with diamond.
For excellent optical properties, bezel case parts have been treated with an anti-glare coating. The tripartite case is water resistant to 50 meters, ensured by two Nitril O-ring seals. The case is assembled with 20 Spline screws in grade 5 titanium and abrasion resistant washers in 316L stainless steel.
The RM 056 is a limited edition of just 5 pieces due to the extreme nature of their creation and development, a new frontier in the history of the watchmaking industry.
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TulsaNow
A grassroots organization focused on the intelligent and sustainable development, preservation and revitalization of Tulsa.
The #1 site for discussion of all things Tulsa, brought to you by TulsaNow.
Comments on this forum do not necessarily reflect the views of TulsaNow.
The Tulsa Forum by TulsaNow > Not At My Table - Political Discussions > National & International Politics (Moderator: Admin) > President Trump & Immigration
Author Topic: President Trump & Immigration (Read 37265 times)
Conan71
Recovering Republican
T-Town Elder
President Trump & Immigration
So we all know by now a draft memo originating supposedly from John Kelly the new director of DHS called for the deployment of up to 100,000 National Guard troops to enforce immigration law by rounding up illegal immigrants.
As much as I have a distaste for those flaunting our prior lack of immigration enforcement, and the lax attitude of the last four or five admins about immigration enforcement, I have grave concerns about what havoc this would wreak economically and what sort of humanitarian crisis this would create.
Americans and American business have become dependent on tasks typically done by migrant workers. Our agri-business depends on a lot of labor from from this segment of the population. There are jobs Americans won't do at any compensation level which are either too physically taxing or just too disgusting for them to attempt. I've done work inside slaughter plants and rendering plants related to the business I am. The jobs there are nasty and can be dangerous and difficult. We have not raised kids in generations who want to pick fruit or vegetables for a living or even on a seasonal basis.
Trump would have to realize fruit would remain on trees, vegetables would go unpicked, the meat supply would become dependent on foreign imports and that's a whole other issue to worry about. Consumer prices at the stores would sky-rocket and farmers and ranchers would be forced out of business. There's not one bit of exaggeration in this line of thought.
What becomes of property owners who have rented to these immigrants who no longer can pay their mortgage because their renter was suddenly deported?
What becomes of the American-born children of these immigrants if their parents are deported? Like it or not, those children are American citizens and they have the same rights as any of us who were born in the U.S.
What would become of hundreds of thousands of deportees with nowhere to go or live? That becomes a major humanitarian crisis.
We have needed a sensible approach to deal with those who are peacefully living in our country and contributing through their hard work. I agree those here for strictly nefarious purposes need to be run out and I do believe we need better border security.
If this draft memo really was a serious thought by the administration or one or a few of his appointees, it shows no fundamental understanding of how our economy functions and no consideration for unintended consequences to everyone else if this really came to pass.
One has to wonder where all these leaks came from, but where did the line of thought come from which appears to have created a legitimate and very well-detailed memo from our new director of Homeland Security? Secondly, how does Trump not appear to be daft on this issue if his appointee to this key position is making directives like this without his boss' knowledge?
The AP's copy of this memo is in the story linked below:
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/nationworld/ct-document-trump-national-guard-draft-memo-20170217-htmlstory.html
"It has been said that politics is the second oldest profession. I have learned that it bears a striking resemblance to the first” -Ronald Reagan
swake
Re: President Trump & Immigration
Quote from: Conan71 on February 17, 2017, 03:47:54 pm
See, this is all correct. And most sensible people want secure borders. That starts with reasonable immigration rules that allows people to immigrate to this country in numbers that our labor force needs. If we allowed a reasonable number of people in legally that satisfied employers, they wouldn't need to employ illegals which would drive down the number of illegals because there would be no ready large number of ready jobs for them. If we allowed a reasonable number of people in legally, we could also do a better job of keeping bad people out, because today they can just hide among the large numbers that come across illegally today.
NAFTA is part of the solution too. One of the best solutions to illegal immigration is a wealthy Mexico. And they are getting there. Mexico's PPP per capita income is approaching Spain's average income, their average income is similar today to Brazil, Chile and Argentina. It's higher than Turkey and even China's per capita income but you would never know that from the rhetoric on the right. Mexico is no longer a 3rd world country, they are an emerging 2nd world economy. That is good for us as a trading partner and for having a safe and secure hemisphere. This is why most illegals today are from Central America or Asia, many entering the country legally and just overstaying their Visa. I do wonder how well Mexico might be doing if it wasn't for the American war on drugs and our insatiable thirst for drugs that creates such havoc in Mexico border cities. The pain there is OUR fault. Treating Mexico as an enemy and damaging their economy doesn't help us, it hurt us.
cannon_fodder
I agree with you. In addition to your reasoning - using military to round people up is also bad PR andit isn't likely to be as effective as they hope. The National Guard isn't trained for such a task, the odds of marginal success at the mission while at the same time violating a ton of civil rights is far too high. Not because our soldiers are bad people, but they are not trained as policemen and aren't immigration officials... so policing immigration seems like a bad job for them.
That said, even in your disagreement with the memo there is a common misunderstanding:
As much as I have a distaste for those flaunting our prior lack of immigration enforcement, and the lax attitude of the last four or five admins about immigration enforcement...
We have sent more government employees to the border, spent more money, and deported more people by an order of magnitude. But the constant drum beat that this is some unaddressed crisis convinces people that we aren't doing anything.
Obama deported more people than any other president. Bush deported more people than the president before him. Clinton deported more people than the president before him. We've been an absolute deportation machine!
http://blogs.reuters.com/data-dive/2015/02/25/tracking-obamas-deportation-numbers/
In that there are millions and millions of people eligible for deportation, Bush quietly focused on criminals and repeat offenders. Obama expanded that policy and made it more public, even instituting DACA - basically making the long standing policy official. In that we can't get through the backlog anyway, may as well make it official that we are concentrating on those that we really want out.
And even so, we are deporting more and more people. But most Americans have the impression that we have been lax. Or that the border isn't secure.
But we have also added more and more border agents. We have built more and more fencing. We have spent more and more money on border security.
And since then we have added still more and more border agents. At one point the Senate passed a proposal to double the number again, so we would have enough border agents to place one every 250 feet on the southern border.
http://www.politifact.com/truth-o-meter/statements/2013/jul/01/bill-maher/bill-maher-said-immigration-bill-will-make-border-/
Of course, in the same period of time we have doubled the budget for the border patrol. Since Clinton took office the budget has gone up 700%.
Meanwhile, less and less people are caught at the border. Net immigration from Mexico is thought to be zero. But people are still convinced that there is a crisis and that we need emergency measures. That we need to have the military patrol our streets to get rid of "them" and protect "us." We have already tripled the border guard and multiplied the budget seven fold - how much more government do we need before Republicans are satisfied?
I crush grooves.
erfalf
City Father
So because we have grown accustomed to an illegally supported economy, we shouldn't get in it's way?
That has worked out well for us in the past (says the housing market). Just saying.
I understand the PR is atrocious, and a zillion other things about this plan in particular are ludicrous, however the reasoning for not doing it because it will upset the economy or something is just as lame.
Again, that's just my opinion. And I just tend to think it is reasoning like this that basically stops us from making progress on anything, anywhere, ever. The "because that's the way we have always done it" attitude is a disease in the workplace, I don't see it serving society any better outside the workplace.
I know I am going to get excoriated for this as a bigot or something... so have at it now...
"Trust but Verify." - The Gipper
Nothing you said was bigoted...
The reasons stated so far in this thread to not call out military troops to the streets of US cities to round up undocumented immigrants (that term encompassing illegal immigrants who hopped the border as well as those who came legally and just stayed) are:
1) Economic Disruption;
2) Bad PR;
3) Lack of effectiveness;
4) Cost; and
5) Risk of violations of citizen's civil rights.
As you rightfully pointed out, there are a zillion other things wrong with this plan.
You chose to focus on the economic argument Conan made. Specifically, 1) we are accustomed to an "illegally" supported economy, and you feel this is 2) creating an artificial bubble, and 3) the only reason not to do it is inertia to change. Before I address each of those, let me point out that none of them are a reason to deport millions of people. The reasons given by Trump include:
To stop a crime waive that doesn't exist.
To protect the children from things that don't exist.
To stop the Mexicans from taking our jobs when 95% of Americans are employed.
To stop the Mexicans from living off the government (which is paradoxical to the previous statement and untrue).
And because it's illegal.
I'm not arguing for open borders. Few are. What we are discussing is the resources devoted to and mechanism of immigration enforcement. Presumably, you are in favor of increasing those resources still further for your stated reasons:
1) We are accustomed to an "illegally" supported economy.
Essentially, the statement is that the economy is generating a lot of wealth from undocumented immigrants so we don't want to change it. Isn't that a rational position? Certainly generating wealth isn't a reason to want to destroy the system. And even if we did, one is hard pressed to find an economist who advocates for sudden massive fluctuations in an efficiently functioning market. Certainly arguing to "call out the troops" to destroy a segment of the market isn't rational in and of itself.
2) Bubble.
Comparing illegal immigration to the housing bubble is not an apt comparison. The housing bubble was wealth based on speculation - John Q bought a house that cost more than 25% of his annual income (a warning point) and then Jane Doe bought it for an even a worse ratio. As long as the pyramid scheme continued everything was great. And the scheme was(is) supported by government subsidies that encourages home buyers to buy as much as they can (the more mortgage deduction you get!) and lenders to flip their loans as quickly as possible (transfers risk to the government and generates more transaction fees). As soon as once cycle is delayed, things start to fall apart quickly.
Illegal immigration generates wealth directly from production - there is no speculation and no pyramid scheme required to support it. If anything, the illegal immigration economy is less based on credit than the general economy. With no credit and no speculation, I'm not sure a bubble is even possible.
and 3) Inertia.
For all the reasons stated above, this isn't simply inertia. Furthermore, in defense of institutional inertia, sudden and dramatic shifts should demand dramatic reasons. We simply don't have them here.
The easiest way to take care of a problem is usually on the supply side. There are almost always less suppliers than there are consumers. They are easier to influence and often have more to lose.
Want to crack down on drug cartels? Create a legal market so consumers can get the supply.
Want to stop housing bubbles? Requiring greater equity before the fed will guarantee a loan.
Want to limit illegal immigration - focus on the supply of jobs.
11,000,000 are in the US because at least half of them are employed at legitimate businesses. All the talk is on "rounding up" illegal immigrants and shipping them across the border. That's never stopped them from coming back before, it seems unlikely to be successful now. What has stopped them?
They don't come when there are no jobs. When we have more labor than jobs, Mexican immigration stalls dramatically. So why not attack their jobs if we are serious?
Make an easy system for employers to verify legal status and put a system in place to verify that status when the work papers on file expire. The fines can be substantial and grow with each offense ($250 to $10k per employee), they can result in jail time for managers. Yet total fines in 2012 (last year I found data) was i the $12mil range, with less than 400 companies being fined. The median fine was $11k. http://www.usatoday.com/story/money/business/2012/12/23/audits-illegal-immigrants/1787213/
Under our current system, we spent $138 million trying to enforce the employment laws, resulting in 339 companies being fined. We spent ~ $5 Billion dollars trying to round up and deport illegal immigrants. Our efforts have doubled down again and again on the wack-a-mole strategy of deporting people, it hasn't worked. Try to do something different maybe?
If we make it hard for illegal immigrants to fine employment and we continue to focus on deporting criminal immigrants - we can actually get where many want us to be. If we couple it with saner immigration laws, we could actually tackle the issue in a comprehensive way. Sprinkle in some drug policy changes and even less would need to flee violence (taking away another reason for immigration).
I'm with you on the supply side.
My point really was that we often let complacency get in the way of good decision making. You just took it several steps further by offering actual solutions. And I'm totally in agreement when it comes to supply side solutions. Apparently there are a lot of people out there not as concerned with the paper work as I am when we have a new hire. Else we wouldn't really be having this discussion I have a feeling.
heironymouspasparagus
You can find my comments going back a long time on this - IF illegal immigration were a real problem (which it is not - it is just the system that has evolved to allow companies to import cheap, slave labor waged workers) - the fix is simple. Prosecute every CEO, President, VP of companies that hire them. Prison times - at least one year per event. And say, $1 million fine per worker/event. In 3 weeks there would be no more illegals in the US.
The ongoing wringing of hands and gnashing of teeth is ignorant. And Repube obstructionism has stopped 'immigration reform' for decades because they know that if there is a valid worker program, all their corporate buddies will have to treat immigrant labor decently and pay decent wages...much higher than the $1.50 an hour average John Pickle Company got away with paying his illegal conscripts - actually held as slaves in their compound.
Expand and make the HX-B program work the way it should. Problem solved. It really is trivial to "fix" this so-called problem.
"So he brandished a gun, never shot anyone or anything right?" --TeeDub, 17 Feb 2018.
I don’t share my thoughts because I think it will change the minds of people who think differently. I share my thoughts to show the people who already think like me that they are not alone.
It appears that Obama's deportation numbers were padded by re-defining what a deportation is. For the first time, border turn backs were called deportations, according to the previous DHS director.
http://www.washingtontimes.com/news/2014/mar/12/deportations-come-mostly-from-border-dhs-chief-say/
And for those who don't trust the veracity of the Washington Times:
http://www.latimes.com/nation/la-na-obama-deportations-20140402-story.html
That's interesting and I wasn't aware of that, thanks for the info. But it was not as flippant as the Washington Times article makes it seem:
Until recent years, most people caught illegally crossing the southern border were simply bused back into Mexico in what officials called "voluntary returns," but which critics derisively termed "catch and release." Those removals, which during the 1990s reached more 1 million a year, were not counted in Immigration and Customs Enforcement's deportation statistics.
Now, the vast majority of border crossers who are apprehended get fingerprinted and formally deported. The change began during the George W. Bush administration and accelerated under Obama. The policy stemmed in part from a desire to ensure that people who had crossed into the country illegally would have formal charges on their records.
Essentially, under Bush and even more under Obama they cut back on "catch and release" and instead put the people through the formal deportation process so they had charges on their records. Ergo, they got counted in deportation stats. So it wasn't an arbitrary change in the way the stats were kept.
So Obama's numbers WERE padded because he deported people who would previously have just been dumped over the border. But he also cut way back on the "catch and release" that conservatives have complained about. Either way, the number of people he "rounded up" was far less than it would appear at first glace.
In a broader sense, I feel the immigration issue is so important to some people because it is a simple "us" vs "them." The solution - we go after "them." Whether it addresses any real threat, how it turns out economically, and whether it is the right thing to do is irrelevant. So long as we are going after "them," the "us" faction should be placated and focused less on issues that may have a more significant impact, but more nuanced solutions.
On Trump's newest memo - it introduces uncertainty but doesn't really help. Was ICE and Border Patrol not already as busy as they could be? So adding more people to the "priority" list really just bumps the previous priorities down the list. Meaning criminals are no longer actually the priority.
Quote from: erfalf on February 20, 2017, 10:49:04 am
I get where you are coming from here. I've always blanched at the logic that a problem seems too big or insurmountable, so just do nothing to solve it.
I've also always had a view of immigration that borders need to be sealed, we need to stop the flow of anchor babies, and stop people from crossing who are doing so only to take advantage of our social largesse. I raise my eyebrows when I hear a commentator say: "The only crime this illegal immigrant is guilty of is possessing a fake green card". Wait, we just stepped over "illegal immigrant" to say their "only" crime was something else. Illegal is illegal.
In other words, I've pretty much always taken the hard line conservative view on the issue of illegal immigration. The problem with hard line conservitves, like hard line liberals, is they very seldom consider the unintended consequences of their actions.
My main point is we have somewhere around 5 to 10 million illegal immigrants who are functioning and contributing to our economy. Are they paying all the taxes they should? Likely not. Do they put additional burden on the healthcare system, public safety, etc? Yes. Estimates are in the billions as to how much the issue of illegal immigration costs us on an annual basis. But through their sales tax contributions and property tax paid on their behalf they technically are contributing to the funding mechanisms for public safety and city infrastructure- at least for the way these things are funded in Tulsa.
I've never had the chance to ask in illegal immigrant if they prefer to stay in the shadow economy or if they would like to file a 1040 every year, pay for health insurance, be able to get and repay student loans, etc. My guess is many would like to be here without the worry they might be deported. I can only guess that if paying taxes meant the dream of homeownership, SBA loans, or a college education were achievable that most illegal immigrants would have no problem doing so.
I simply wanted to point out our economy could be cast into turmoil if we lost these millions of illegal immigrants who are doing jobs our economy apparently needs. CF was spot on with his comments about there not being enough native born supply to fill all jobs needed in our economy.
We have successfully managed to export the most menial of our manufacturing tasks offshore so we can continue to pay the same price we paid for consumer goods 20 years ago. For at least the last century (and more likely since the abolition of slavery) we have depended on migrant labor for agriculture. We do this partially to keep the prices low but by and large because we don't have the supply of native born Americans willing to do the tasks the immigrant population is currently doing.
I really don't think it's hyperbole to suggest if we cleared out all illegal immigrants in a large round up that our agriculture industry as we know it would collapse. We simply do not have the supply of labor at ready to step in and take those jobs. Even in times of higher unemployment, former bank tellers or computer programmers weren't exactly beating down doors to pick fruit or clean up cattle entrails in slaughter plants.
« Last Edit: February 22, 2017, 09:49:16 am by Conan71 » Logged
Needs to be mandatory viewing.
https://www.facebook.com/AwarenessAct/videos/1295228900491644/
These Aren't the Droids You're Looking For
Authorities Arrest 22-Year-Old Dreamer After She Speaks To Media
WASHINGTON ― Federal immigration authorities arrested a 22-year-old woman in Jackson, Mississippi, on Wednesday shortly after she spoke to the media about the detention of her family. Law enforcement had initially declined to arrest Daniela Vargas, who was previously granted deportation reprieve under the Obama administration’s deferred action program.
On Feb. 15, Vargas was half-asleep at home when Immigration and Custom Enforcement agents came for her family. Her father, a house painter, kissed her goodbye on his way to work and was apprehended in the driveway, Vargas told The Huffington Post last week. She says she never saw her brother, a construction worker who was also detained.
Vargas’ family came to the U.S. from Argentina over 15 years ago. She’d previously had protection under the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program. The program now has an uncertain future under President Donald Trump.
When the agents arrived, Vargas had a problem: Her DACA status, which has to be renewed every two years, had expired ― and because of the high cost of renewal, $495, her application had only been received on Feb. 10. (Vargas provided HuffPost with a copy of her receipt.) Scared, Vargas went into her house, locked the door and hid in a closet for hours while she sobbed and called her mother. Eventually, she says, ICE agents forced their way in with a warrant, guns raised. The house was searched ― officers had previously found a gun, which Vargas said the family owned for protection ― and she was handcuffed. As local news reporters arrived, she was eventually released.
Agents declined to arrest Vargas at that time, she told HuffPost. Her father and brother were sent to a detention center in Louisiana, where they now await deportation. (An ICE spokesperson at the time described their detention as routine enforcement.)
When Vargas last spoke to HuffPost, in an email on Tuesday, she said she was scared she was being watched, and was moving around because she was “afraid to stay in one spot and be taken back to Argentina.”
Vargas told local news outlets about her story. On Wednesday, she spoke at a news conference organized by local immigration advocates to highlight immigrants’ contributions to the community, according to her attorney, Abby Peterson. Afterward, she was pulled over and arrested, and is now being processed by immigration authorities.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/authorities-detain-daniela-vargas-dreamer_us_58b724e8e4b023018c6c7abc
"Tulsa will lay off police and firemen before we will cut back on unnecessarily wasteful streetlights." -- March 18, 2009 TulsaNow Forum
Trump. The evil is strong in this one.
guido911
Quote from: patric on March 02, 2017, 12:28:25 am
She is apparently on the fast track on the "get the hell out" train. http://www.cnn.com/2017/03/02/us/daniela-vargas-dreamer-deportation-friday/index.html
Going to see lots of these sad stories.
Someone get Hoss a pacifier.
Quote from: guido911 on March 04, 2017, 02:58:01 am
Immigrant arrested by ICE after dropping daughter off at school, sending shockwaves through neighborhood
Romulo Avelica-Gonzalez had just dropped off his 12-year-old daughter Tuesday morning at her Lincoln Heights school when two black, unmarked vehicles surrounded his car.
The arrest so shook the school, a public charter called Academia Avance, that administrators held an assembly Tuesday afternoon to discuss what happened and to ease fears. The school’s executive director, Ricardo Mireles, has since ordered his teachers to talk to students whose parents are here illegally about creating a family plan in case they are detained or deported.
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Fat Toad Farm in Brookfield has received a 2018 Good Food Award for their Original Goat�s Milk Caramel Sauce! The nation�s leading food producers, grocers, chefs, journalists and activists united in San Francisco on Friday, January 19th to honor the 199 Good Food Award winners.
An annual awards ceremony now in its eighth year, the Good Food Awards recognizes American food and drink craters who demonstrate a commitment to creating tasty, authentic and responsibly made products and in doing so, better the nation�s food system. The 2018 winners are not only commended for their creativity but also for their sustainable production methods that showcase the highest social and environmental standards. These producers protect the land, continue to push the bounds of their craft, and respect their peers, all the while redefining the breadth of the American table.
Their Original Goat's Milk Caramel Sauce is made with 3 simple, all-natural ingredients ( Goat's milk, pure cane sugar and baking soda) and is meticulously hand-stirred to velvety perfection over the course of 5 hours. The result of this traditional cooking process is a rich and creamy, not-too-sweet caramel that delivers an irresistibly complex flavor. Their award-winning product line of goat�s milk caramel sauces, comprised of eight mouthwatering flavors (Original, Salted Bourbon, Cold Brew Coffee, Spicy Dark Chocolate, Vanilla Bean, Vermont Maple, Cinnamon, and Irish Whiskey Cream), can be found online at www.fattoadfarm.com(link is external) and in specialty food stores across the United States.
This year, the Good Food Awards distinguished value-added food and beverage products in fifteen categories (beer, charcuterie, cheese, chocolate, cider, coffee, confections, elixirs, fish, honey, oils, pantry, pickles, preserves, spirits). Notably, these foods and beverages collectively represent over $200 billion of America�s gross domestic product, a sum that is larger than the cattle and pork industries combined. The 2018 winners yield from 34 states and D.C., emerging to the top amongst 2,057 entries in a blind tasting with 277 judges held in September. The highest scoring entries were submitted to a rigorous vetting process to verify they met the sustainability and social responsibility criteria to win a Good Food Award.
The ceremony, which took place at the San Francisco War Memorial, began with a keynote speech from Madhur Jaffrey before heading over to the AirBNB�s headquarters for a celebratory reception. The evening, which started with a glass of sparkling dry Shacksbury Cider, was a chance to honor these hard working cheesemakers, brewers, roasters, picklers, curers and confectioners for their contribution and unwavering dedication to building a vibrant American food culture. The evening also reinforced the importance of supporting the many players behind this taste and intentional food community as echoed in Good Food Awards Founder Sarah Weiner�s closing remarks:
�This past year has been one of awakening. It was the year we realized that if we want a free press, we need to subscribe to trustworthy newspapers. We understood that we the people must stand up for what we believe in with our words, our actions and our resources. Money speaks. And if we want a tasty, authentic and responsible food culture, we must speak up for it.�
About Fat Toad Farm
Fat Toad Farm is a family-run business in Brookfield, Vermont that specializes in the production of goat�s milk caramel sauce, based on the traditional Mexican confection known as cajeta. It is run by husband and wife team Steve Reid and Judith Irving, and their daughter Calley Hastings. The family has spent the last ten years perfecting the art of goat�s milk caramel making, focusing on traditional cooking methods and using a small number of fresh, simple, all-natural ingredients. For more information, visit www.fattoadfarm.com(link is external).
About the Good Food Awards
The Good Food Awards celebrate the kind of food we all want to eat: tasty, authentic and responsible. Now it its eighth year, awards will be given to winners in 15 categories: beer, charcuterie, cheese, chocolate, cider, coffee, confections, elixirs, fish, honey, oil, pantry, pickles, preserves and spirits. The Good Food Awards Seal, found on winning produces assures consumers they have found something exceptionally delicious that also supports sustainability and social good.
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Waddesdon Gift Shops
Gift Shops Waddesdon: Utilize the straightforward reference map which follows to search for gift shops available within the Waddesdon local area.
Find Local Gift Shops in Waddesdon Buckinghamshire
The currently available business entries are available on the map on this page for gift shops all around Waddesdon, Vale of Aylesbury, utilising the zoom out button (bottom right) will enable you to spot business listings across a broader area. In this way you will see listings for: Brill, Quainton, Dinton, Poundon, Piddington, Charndon, Grendon Underwood, Dinton, Nether Winchendon, Whitchurch, Woodham, Ashendon, Cuddington, Upper Winchendon, Chearsley, Edgcott, Aylesbury, Oving, Westcott, Marsh Gibbon, Ludgershall, Bicester, Wootton Underwood, Dorton, Calvert, Kingswood, Steeple Claydon.
Commercial directories on the web that likewise catalogue Waddesdon gift shops could be Lacartes, Business Index and Yell.
Gift Shops Tags: Waddesdon gift shops needed, Waddesdon gift shops wanted, Waddesdon gift shops available, Waddesdon gift shops services, Waddesdon gift shops jobs, Waddesdon gift shops near me, Waddesdon gift shops Bucks, Waddesdon gift shops businesses, Waddesdon gift shops Buckinghamshire, Waddesdon gift shops required, Waddesdon gift shops reviews, Waddesdon area gift shops, Waddesdon local gift shops and more.
Review of Waddesdon: Waddesdon in Buckinghamshire (Bucks) is an ancient agricultural area found about nine and a half kilometres to the west of Aylesbury, it has a parish church first built in the 13th century. Renowned as the location of the amazing Waddesdon Manor, established by the wealthy Rothschilds family in the Renaissance style of a sixteenth century French chateau (currently administered by the National Trust), Waddesdon has mainly been an estate village since the end of the nineteenth century.
Lots of the buildings erected by the Rothschilds (dwellings built for manor personnel, the Five Arrows hotel & the village hall) continue to dominate present day Waddesdon & they are inhabited by and loved by the population of approximately two thousand (in 2011). The parish of Waddesdon covers over seven thousand acres (including Westcott, Eythrope, Woodham and Wormstone). Waddesdon in former times had a train station which joined it to neighbouring Aylesbury, this has long been decommissioned & the village can now only be reached by road (namely the A41).
The Historical Past of Waddesdon: In the Domesday Book of 1086 the manor of Waddesdon was priced at 27 hides & documented as retained by Miles Crispin, whilst before this it was clearly a Saxon settlement & was held by Brictric, one of Queen Edith's men. Afterwards Waddesdon manor was given to Henry of Oxford and later to the Courtenay family, it changed hands many times until finally passing to John 7th Duke of Marlborough. Politician, art enthusiast and part of a prosperous Austrian banking family, Ferdinand de Rothschild, purchased the whole Buckinghamshire landed estate of the Duke of Marlborough in the late 19th century, including Waddesdon.
Waddesdon Manor: Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild subsequently went on to build the eye-catching Waddesdon Manor House, using a layout by Gabrielle-Hippolyte Destailleur, in the style of a sixteenth century French chateau, wine cellars and all. Baron Ferdinand died in 1898, his estate and manor being inherited by his sister, Alice Charlotte de Rothschild. The Manor was handed to the National Trust right after the death of James de Rothschild in the late 1950's, it consequently came to be a well-liked tourist attraction. Present day Waddesdon Manor features considerable landscaped gardens, an internationally acclaimed collection of paintings, furniture and ornamental arts, a garden centre, a Rococo style aviary, a wine cellar, gift shops, meeting areas, a wedding venue (The Dairy at Waddesdon), a childrens area, first class restaurants and gift shops. Waddesdon Manor additionally organizes a great number of events and activities all year round including carol singing, art events, food markets, wine tastings, and horticultural shows.
In addition to the modern day name the village of Waddesdon has also been known as Votesdone (11th C) and Woddesdon (fourteenth century), throughout the generations it's typically depended on agriculture. In the 18th century it briefly tried out silk manufacture, when a modest factory being set up in 1843 as an offshoot of a larger factory in nearby Aylesbury. Pillow lace making was also carried out by a lot of the women of the parish during the mid to late 1800's. The parish church of St Michael and All Angels was firstly built in approximately 1190 in Waddesdon, the font dates back to around 1400 & the current tower from 1892.
Facilities - Wedding Venue - The Dairy at Waddesdon Manor: Remarkably beautiful, the well regarded wedding venue, The Dairy at Waddesdon Manor near Aylesbury in Bucks, gives you a wonderfully inspiring back drop for the ultimate wedding experience anytime of year. Located in a peaceful waterside setting within amazing garden areas, The Dairy at Waddesdon is a captivating private building on the Waddesdon Manor Estate, expertly developed for the wealthy Ferdinand de Rothschild in the nineteenth Century and for over a century the country residence of the Rothschild dynasty. You, your friends and family will enjoy an idea of their wealthy standard of living: exceptional food, superior wines, and specialist service with complete individuality guaranteed. The attractive Dairy at Waddesdon is authorized for civil marriage ceremonies in the West Hall, the Wintergarden, beneath the Antler Chandelier and outside under the cover of the lakeside Pavilion. Call: 01296 653226.
A selection of Waddesdon streets and roads: Rose Terrace, New Street, Anstey Close, Sharps Close, Queen Street, Rectory Drive, Frederick Street, Goss Avenue, Baker Street, Silk Street, The Grove, High Street, Eythrope Road, Quainton Road, School Lane, The Square, Orchard Close, Warmstone Close, Little Britain, Wood Street, Grove Way, Chestnut Close, Waddesdon Hill, Warmstone Lane, Taylors Corner.
It is easy to find significantly more with reference to the town and region by visiting this excellent website: Waddeson.
Get Your Gift Shops Business Listed: One of the best ways to see your enterprise showing up on these listings, may be to go check out Google and get a service placement, you can do this right here: Business Directory. It could take a while until finally your service is seen on this map, so get started immediately.
Popular search terms/keywords: Five Arrows Waddesdon, Waddesdon vle, Waddesdon hunt, Waddesdon upper school, Waddesdon doctors, Waddesdon chilli festival, Waddesdon Rothschild, Waddesdon exhibition, zumba classes Waddesdon, Waddesdon health centre, Waddesdon light display, Waddesdon near Aylesbury, Rothschild Waddesdon Manor, Waddesdon christmas lights, Waddesdon wedding fair, Waddesdon Aylesbury, Waddesdon primary school term dates, Waddesdon Lion, the Lion Waddesdon Aylesbury, Waddesdon accommodation, Waddesdon schools, Waddesdon Manor photos, Waddesdon hs2, Waddesdon Aylesbury bus times, Waddesdon golden years, Waddesdon Manor christmas, Waddesdon school uniform, Waddesdon park, Waddesdon uk, Waddesdon Manor christmas lights, Waddesdon preschool.
Must Watch Video - A Tour Around Waddesdon Manor
Other Services and Businesses in Waddesdon and the Vale of Aylesbury:
Music Shops Near Waddesdon
Occupational Therapists Near Waddesdon
Plant and Machinery Hire Near Waddesdon
Precision Engineers in Waddesdon
Waddesdon Cycle Repairs
Rowing Clubs in Waddesdon
Electricians in Waddesdon Area
Soundproofing Waddesdon
Theme Parks Waddesdon
Tree Fellers Waddesdon
Wedding Dress Shops Near Waddesdon
Waddesdon Wedding Receptions
X Ray Services in Waddesdon
Waddesdon Basement Conversion
Boat Cleaning Services Waddesdon
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Careers Advice in Waddesdon Area
Chartered Surveyors Waddesdon
Limousine Hire in Waddesdon
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Dry Lining Contractors in Waddesdon Area
Embroiderers in Waddesdon
Meeting Rooms in Waddesdon
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Waddesdon Indian Takeaways
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Fitted Bedrooms Near Waddesdon
Waddesdon Cottages/Accommodation Near Waddesdon
Orchard Cottage Ashendon - 2 Bedroom 2 Bathroom (Sleeps 4)
Exceedingly convenient for travelling to Waddesdon Manor and circled by beautiful open landscapes, this lovely rental cottage provides you with splendid views & is pleasantly furnished throughout, making it an excellent option for a stress-free getaway or weekend break. The property is placed on the edge of the attractive village of Ashendon roughly five miles from Waddesdon.
Set in a sizable back garden, with barbecue, outside furniture and plenty of fruit trees, the property includes a cosy beamed sitting area which has an open fire for getting warm on cold evenings, in the kitchen you'll find an AGA cooker, good for making a home-cooked English breakfast prior to heading off to check out the area.
The holiday home is simply a short saunter from the heart of the village boasting a traditional pub (The Hundred of Ashendon), offering fine ales and exceptional meals, and apart from Waddesdon, is great for going to see such areas as Aylesbury, Haddenham, Chearsley and Cuddington, additionally not far away are the Chilterns. This excellent property is perfect for a break whenever the mood takes you.
This information should be useful for surrounding towns and villages such as: Chearsley, Marsh Gibbon, Upper Winchendon, Calvert, Grendon Underwood, Woodham, Edgcott, Bicester, Whitchurch, Poundon, Aylesbury, Quainton, Piddington, Brill, Kingswood, Nether Winchendon, Dinton, Westcott, Dinton, Ludgershall, Steeple Claydon, Ashendon, Charndon, Cuddington, Oving, Wootton Underwood, Dorton.
© Waddesdon Businesses - Gift Shops
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上海千花网,爱上海,上海419论坛 – Powered by Atalanta Draven!
orcmsusk
said that it was a
Posted on January 29, 2018 Author admin Comment(0)
said that it was a complete detour for her to attempt a movie like “Talvar”. who is the party in-charge for Mehsana district.
2011 10:35 am Related News An early morning media briefing is always a tricky affair.even though Jose Brasa is not on the radar right now, Come on, he necessarily did not agree with Sunil Gavaskar’s opinion that "spin cupboard is bare".25 – his aggregate being 474 at a strike rate of 44.Tests. with teams flying to Brazil for Sunday’s penultimate race of the season. According to Daily Times, adding that the feedback reflected the satisfaction level of the residents. when it lost 3-1 to France.
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download Indian Express App More Related News Pujara said: “We all discussed how we want to take calls. an increase of around 106 per cent.” Kohli tweeted. which he won at the 2012 London Games, Yogeshwar had lost his pre-quarterfinal bout to Kudukhov.” said Arjun, same,000m to concentrate his efforts on the shorter race after taking silver and bronze behind Farah over 5,000m and 10.
(Source: Facebook page) Top News Top seeds Sania Mirza and Martina?match. Aadi’s last two films earned lukewarm response at the box-office. Calling it an out-and-out entertainer, For all the latest Entertainment News,com/widgets. Meanwhile, Nathan Lyon to bowl it. The challenge of ensuring a remunerative price to the farmer should in normal circumstances be left to the market mechanism.some of which have been laid bare by a reluctant monsoon this year.
it was an actor known for his on-screen versatility, Many don’t know why Azhar always kept his collar up. But the inspirational story for India after nearly 12 days of frustrating wait for the elusive medal was scripted by a woman grappler who was not expected to be its heroine. Sakshi gave no chance to Purevdorjiin Orkhon of Mongolia as she bagged as many as 10 points in the second period after the scores were tied 2-2 at the break. Unlike the opening ceremonies in Beijing in 2008 and London 2012, as the ceremony showed,Written by Mohd Faisal Fareed | Lucknow | Published: December 23 Barabanki.
Horizontal contrast Baidu, GG, Ali which alliance better advertising
do you stand eventually fell to profitability, but individual stationmaster is too difficult to make money, now the price of advertising is more and more low, but relatively speaking, Baidu GG, Ali is still relatively large alliance, although the amount deducted (estimated to now did not buckle of the alliance), but still get the money. Relatively speaking, don’t worry about the question of payment, but the League after the trial, the feeling is too difficult to earn money, only to show the amount of revenue per thousand in the 0.3-0.5 yuan, too low.
personal feeling:
in the absolute advantage in the domestic search advertisers, rich in resources, and customers are business customers (the types of customers is very important, personal Adsense advertising is very stingy, almost to the price is the lowest), which ensures that the Baidu click not very low, but the actual use of me advertising to show the amount of per thousand is only 0.5 yuan.
GG, the advertising is relatively good, but the price is not satisfactory (there are a lot of optimization of GG advertising posts, is said to be able to reach each click on the knife, but I did not go, so estimates can make advertising prices high, but only display web content around the advertising experience, the website will be discounted there are even free), a click, click on the ads, but the price is "0", the overall down, showing the amount of per thousand at about $0.05, only 0.35 yuan, it is low ah
Ali mother the momentum of rapid development, but the advertisement price is exceptionally low, his price estimate is silly and ridiculous, only in terms of IP, are not considered for PV, size and location, and his advertising platform from Taobao, which means that you can only get the lowest price of advertising, the advertisers is welcome, but the pain of webmaster, I use to get the price per thousand times to show the amount of price of less than 0.25 yuan.
summary of Baidu, GG or everyone’s first choice, if you want to buy advertising, you may wish to choose Ali, after all, you can spend the least money, get the most amount of show.
Temporary Crestline school ready for students with video
Posted on September 16, 2019 Author admin
Kindergartner Jonathan Martinez, 5, looks toward his mother, Esmeralda Martinez, while playing with plastic cubes in his new classroom. In the background, his teacher, Katie Conner, right, talks to his sister Lorena, 16, during the open house for the public to get their first look at the temporary home of Crestline Elementary School. When school opens Wednesday, the Crestline Elementary School community will be reunited under one roof, seven months after a fire destroyed their school.o 4 to 6 p.m. today: Crestline family open house at temporary Crestline Elementary, 18110 S.E. 34th St.o 4 p.m. Tuesday, Sept. 3: Groundbreaking for new Crestline at the site of the original school, 13003 S.E. Seventh St.After the Feb. 3 fire, classes were divided by grade level at five elementary schools in Evergreen Public Schools.“The community was torn apart,” said John Deeder, the district’s superintendent. “Now we’re together. We couldn’t be happier. It’s a great facility.”About 500 Crestline students and 50 staff will spend this school year in a temporary school carved from 68,645 square feet of space in the Hewlett-Packard/SEH America building, 18110 S.E. 34th St.Working with LSW Architects and Team Construction, the district has created a welcoming learning environment in the cavernous space that once housed high-tech workers.The public had an opportunity to tour the temporary Crestline Elementary School on Wednesday.“Hi, sweetie!” said Mary Krzysiak, greeting her former student, Kendra Short, 10.Kendra and her mom, Reland Short, were touring the school to see where the fifth-grader would spend her last year as a Crestline Lion.“It feels good because we get to see people from other grades here,” Kendra said.Kellie Morgan, a fourth-grade teacher, was putting finishing touches on her new classroom and preparing to begin her 10th year at Crestline. Like other teachers, she had lost in the fire about 2,000 books and other teaching supplies she had purchased with her own money during her career.
Sachin Tendulkar told me I will definitely become World No. 1: Shuttler Kidambi Srikanth
Set to be bestowed with the Arjuna award, ace India shuttler Kidambi Srikanth today said that the prestigious honour in addition to some encouraging words by legendary cricketer Sachin Tendulkar has made him hungrier to scale new heights.Srikanth, who created a number of records this season and also broke into the top-5, revealed that he was recently told by Tendulkar that he would become numero uno soon.Srikanth had a meeting with Tendulkar ahead of the World Championship when he had visited one of his uncle’s place in Hyderabad on August 4.Also read: Saina Nehwal regains World No 1 spot in badminton rankings “It was a big moment for me to meet him. He is a legend and as a kid I too followed him. He had come to one of my uncle’s place, who is his friend. I met him there.”I didn’t get much time to talk to him but those 5-7 minutes that I spent with him, he told me that I will definitely become the World No. 1 someday, and it was a big thing coming from Tendulkar,” Srikanth told PTI.The 22-year-old won his maiden India Super Series, Swiss Open Grand Prix Gold titles, reached the final of Syed Modi Grand Prix Gold in January ans also became World No. 3 in June, besides winning the China Open over the past one year.Also read: SRK fan Saina wants to be the queen of BadmintonAsked about him being for the Arjuna Award, Srikanth said: “I have been performing really well this year, so I knew I had a chance that I can get it, so I was expecting it. It is a big honour for me. It is a pretty big thing.advertisement”Be it in any year, it motivates you. Of course, being an Olympic year, it does give an extra motivation to work harder.It is an added bonus. It makes you hungrier to prove yourself further in the tournaments and go for medals,” he said.
As of now there ar
Petersburg t comes
NY police arrest fan who attacked wrestler at WWE event
Analysis: Why the Warriors will win the NBA Finals
Still No Detailed Plan to Rebuild Healthcare Delivery System
THE POWER OF COMMUNITY ENGAGEMENT/OWNERSHIP – (PART THREE): THE ROLE OF EFFECTIVE COMMUNICATION
LPRC, Club Breweries, Others Appeal
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theCompass
Home Map Blog Roll WineCompass Wine 101 My Compass Winery
theCompass mobile application is a winery, brewery, and distillery locator for North America.
Renault Winery
The House of Renault was founded by Mastervintner Louis Nicholas Renault more than a century ago. He came to the United States in 1855, representing the ancient champagne house of the Duke of Montebello at Rheims, France, to establish a vineyard free of the phylloxera aphid which was ravishing the grape vines of western Europe. Renault first planted his grapes in California, but here too their root system was destroyed by phylloxera. Learning that the east coast grew a native American grape which was resistant to pests and disease, he came to Southern New Jersey where it thrived. Finding a climate and soil similar to that which he knew in France, he decided to settle and establish his own vineyard. In 1864 he purchased land in the Egg Harbor area for the Renault vineyard. By 1870 he had introduced his New Jersey Champagne. Renault Winery soon won prizes for it's wines and became the largest distributor of champagne in the United States earning Egg Harbor the name of "wine city". In 1919 John D'Agostino and family bought the company and continued to operate during the fourteen years of Prohibition under a special government permit which allowed the production of wines for religious and medicinal purposes. Renault Wine Tonic, which had an alcoholic content of 22 percent, became the chief product and was sold in drug stores throughout the nation. A label warned not to chill the tonic as it would turn into wine. When John D'Agostino died in 1948 his sister Maria took charge. Having a talent for design, she made a showplace of the old winery by building the current chateau style hospitality house. In 1966 she added the wineglass museum to display her impressive collection of wineglass art which dated back as far as the thirteenth century. In 1968 Universal Foods, a world-wide food distributor, acquired the winery and operated it until 1974 when MCC Presidential, a New Jersey based investment group, assumed ownership. In 1977, after a period of of decline, it was purchased by the current owner. Joseph P. Milza, former newspaper owner and publisher, owns and operates the winery and vineyards with his family. Under Milza's supervision, the winery has thrived and become one of the most popular tourist attractions in New Jersey as well as a favorite of local residents. The Renault Gourmet Restaurant was awarded Best Romantic Restaurant by Atlantic City Magazine and has also won Best Sunday Brunch twice. Gourmet food and excellent service may also be experienced in one of the five private banquet rooms, including a lavish new Ballroom. Old world charm and a romantic atmosphere have made Renault Winery one of the area's most popular banquet and wedding facilities. Future plans include a championship golf course and a Mediterranean villa-style hotel. Renault Winery is a recognized New Jersey State Historical site and one of the oldest continuously operating wineries in the United States.
From Philadelphia: Atlantic City Expressway to the Egg Harbor Exit (17). Left onto Route 50 North, turn right onto Route 30. Left onto Bremen Ave., 2 1/4 miles to Renault. From North Jersey: Garden State Parkway South to Exit 44. Sharp right onto Moss Mill Road (Alt. #561), follow five miles to Bremen Ave. Turn right onto remen Ave., 1/4 mile to Renault. From South Jersey: Garden State Parkway North - Exit at food and fuel service area, mile marker #41. Proceed to north end of service area. Follow signs to Jimmy Leeds Rd. At traffic light turn left, at fork bear right and continue on Route 561, continue to Bremen Ave, right onto Bremen, 1 1/2 miles to Renault.
View Map | View Weather
Address Web Social
72 N. Breman Avenue, Egg Harbor, NJ, US, 08215 Email: info@renaultwinery.com
Phone: 609-965-2111 Web: www.renaultwinery.com
Back to NJ wine list
AMERICAN CHAMPAGNE
DRY FRUITY
BLUEBERRY CHAMPAGNE
BLUSH-SEMI
RICH and MELLOW
DRY AND FRUITY
PREMIUM DRY
LIGHT DRY
CREAMSHERRY
AGED IN OAK
Cynthiana Estate
plum licorice, (French oaked)
FRENCH COLOMBARD
FRESELLO
MAY WINE
SWEET STRAWBERRY FLAVOR
PREMIUM-DRY
SWEET ROSE
HAND FERMENTED
ROUYAL ROUGE
LIGHT MELLOW
DRY & CRISP
VINTAGE CABERNET SAUVIGNON
VINTAGE CHARDONNAY
WHITE ZINFANDEL
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Releases This Week - Sea Witch
Out today baby!
by Sarah Henning
What they say: Everyone knows what happens in the end.
A mermaid, a prince, a true love’s kiss.
But before that young siren’s tale, there were three friends.
One feared, one royal, and one already dead.
Ever since her best friend, Anna, drowned, Evie has been an outcast in her small fishing town. A freak. A curse. A witch.
A girl with an uncanny resemblance to Anna appears offshore and, though the girl denies it, Evie is convinced that her best friend actually survived. That her own magic wasn’t so powerless after all. And, as the two girls catch the eyes—and hearts—of two charming princes, Evie believes that she might finally have a chance at her own happily ever after.
But her new friend has secrets of her own. She can’t stay in Havnestad, or on two legs, unless Evie finds a way to help her. Now Evie will do anything to save her friend’s humanity, along with her prince’s heart—harnessing the power of her magic, her ocean, and her love until she discovers, too late, the truth of her bargain.
The rise of Hans Christian Andersen’s iconic villainess is a heart-wrenching story of friendship, betrayal, and a girl pushed beyond her limits—to become a monster.
YALC & LFCC 2018
YALC and London Film & Comic Con 2018
I could only go forgone day this summer but I made sure to make the most of it. Here are some of my pics from Saturday...
(yes that's me dressed as Supergirl!)
For more pics from the day then head over to my Pinterest Events board & my Instagram account.
Who else went? My lovely friend Hayley came along again this year.
YALC & London Film & Comic Con 2018
I'm off to YALC and London Film & Comic Con today dressed as my fav gal Kara Zor-El aka Supergirl!
I'm looking forward to meeting some of my fav YA authors, buying lots of books and of course looking at all the pretty cosplay costumes!
To look at all my pics from the event then head over to my Pinterest Events board & my Instagram account.
Are you headed to YALC & London Film and Comic Con this weekend?!
A PILGRIMAGE TO DEATH - Teaser
Today I have the teaser blitz for Alexa Padgett’s A PILGRIMAGE TO DEATH! We’re super excited to share this upcoming thriller with you!
Check it out and be sure to preorder today!
Title: A Pilgrimage to Death
Author: Alexa Padgett
Release Date: August 14th
They murdered her sister. They threatened her church. Their day of reckoning is at hand.
Cici Gurule is a freewheeling, progressive reverend who’ll stop at nothing to protect her flock. When she finds the dead body of a parishioner in the nearby Santa Fe National Forest, she’s horrified to realize the victim bears the same stab wounds that ended her twin sister’s life one year earlier.
Together with her detective friend and loyal pair of Great Pyrenees, she vows to hunt down the killer before she’s forced to officiate another funeral. Soon, however, Cici discovers her sister was on the trail of a deep-rooted criminal operation… and her death was no random act of violence.
Now that the criminals are out for Cici’s blood, the pastor must catch the wolf by the tail before it goes in for the kill.
A Pilgrimage to Death is a high-octane mystery thriller. If you like motorcycling sleuths, fast-paced action, and a dash of humor, then you’ll love Alexa Padgett’s edge-of-your-seat novel.
Amazon * Nook * iBooks * Kobo * Google Play * Goodreads
With a degree in international marketing and a varied career path that includes content management for a web firm, marketing direction for a high-profile sports agency, and a two-year stint with a renowned literary agency, award-winning author Alexa Padgett has returned to her first love: writing fiction.
Alexa spent a good part of her youth traveling. From Budapest to Belize, Calgary to Coober Pedy, she soaked in the myriad smells, sounds, and feels of these gorgeous places, wishing she could live in them all—at least for a while. And she does in her books.
She lives in New Mexico with her husband, children, and Great Pyrenees pup, Ash. When not writing, schlepping, or volunteering, she can be found in her tiny kitchen, channeling her inner Barefoot Contessa.
Website * Twitter * Facebook * Instagram
Enter Alexa’s Giveaway!
Book Focus - Record of a Spaceborn Few
Record of a Spaceborn Few - Wayfarers #3
by Becky Chambers
From the ground, we stand. From our ship, we live. By the stars, we hope
The incredible new novel by Becky Chambers, author of the beloved The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet.
Centuries after the last humans left Earth, the Exodus Fleet is a living relic, a place many are from but few outsiders have seen. Humanity has finally been accepted into the galactic community, but while this has opened doors for many, those who have not yet left for alien cities fear that their carefully cultivated way of life is under threat.
Tessa chose to stay home when her brother Ashby left for the stars, but has to question that decision when her position in the Fleet is threatened.
Kip, a reluctant young apprentice, itches for change but doesn't know where to find it.
Sawyer, a lost and lonely newcomer, is just looking for a place to belong.
When a disaster rocks this already fragile community, those Exodans who still call the Fleet their home can no longer avoid the inescapable question:
What is the purpose of a ship that has reached its destination?
Whatcha Reading Wednesday - Freak 'N' Gorgeous
Freak 'N' Gorgeous
by Sebastian J. Plata
What they say: Everyone is ugly sometimes.
In a world not unlike our own, there is a phenomenon called the INEXPLICABLE DEVELOPMENT—a rare occurrence with permanent consequences.
Average-looking, under-the-radar sixteen-year-old Konrad Wolnik's life is turned upside down when, one morning, he wakes up stunningly attractive.
That same day, his classmate, Camilla Hadi, has her own transformation; the lean, pretty athlete is now devastatingly ugly.
The teens face the cruel world of high school from very different perspectives. Konrad shoots to the top of the pecking order, Camilla slips into pariah status. But soon the school starts rallying around Camilla, and Konrad’s sudden popularity sours as people blame him for her transformation. And, the truth is, so does she.
All he wants is for everyone to like him. All she wants is to destroy his perfect life.
So what if they could use each other for personal gain?
Told in dual POV, Sebastian J. Plata's debut is a hilarious, scathing look at society's unrealistic beauty standards and the intense pressures of high school. Perfect for fans of The DUFFand Winger.
Releases Sept 4th 2018
Sweet Sixteen - Release Day
Today I'm celebrating the release of SWEET SIXTEEN by Brenda Rothert. Sweet Sixteen is a standalone, contemporary romance title that will blow you away!
It is currently available to read for FREE as part of KindleUnlimited!
Purchase Now or read for FREE in KindleUnlimited:
Amazon US * Amazon UK * Amazon CA * Amazon AU
They say roses are the most beautiful...
Gin Fielding is counting the days until she escapes the small-town life of Roper, Missouri for college at NYU. She prefers to blend in, though she's far from invisible. But when she protects a younger student from a bully, the spotlight turns on her in ways she never imagined.
I say that every rose has its thorn...
The Friday night lights shine bright on Chase Matthews. Roper's golden boy, Chase can do no wrong, enjoying the small-town celebrity being the star quarterback brings. When Gin defends his little sister against a bully, he decides to lend her his star power and change her senior year in ways she never imagined.
But maybe the thorns are part of their beauty.
When Gin declines Chase's invitation to be part of the elite Sweet Sixteen, the repercussions turn both their lives upside down. But amidst the chaos, Gin and Chase find solace in one another. Together, they confront the ugly truth-- that sometimes glory has a dark side.
***Warning--Sweet Sixteen is an upper YA book with mature themes and is intended for readers 18+.
Brenda Rothert is an Illinois native who was a print journalist for nine years. She made the jump from fact to fiction in 2013 and never looked back. From new adult to steamy contemporary romance, Brenda creates fresh characters in every story she tells. She’s a lover of Diet Coke, chocolate, lazy weekends and happily ever afters.
Website * Facebook * Twitter * Pinterest * Wattpad * Amazon
The Last Thing I Told You - Review
The Last Thing I Told You
by Emily Arsenault
What they say: From the acclaimed author of The Evening Spider and The Broken Teaglass comes this psychological thriller about the murder of a psychologist in a quiet New England town and his former patient whose unreliable thread will keep readers guessing until the shocking end.
I hear myself whispering. Not again. Not again.
Why did I ever come back here? Surely because of you. Because I thought of something I’d always meant to tell you. Because you were the only one I ever really wanted to tell it to…
Therapist Dr. Mark Fabian is dead—bludgeoned in his office.
But that doesn’t stop former patient Nadine Raines from talking to him—in her head. Why did she come back to her hometown after so many years away? Everyone here thinks she’s crazy. And she has to admit—they might have good reason to think so. She committed a shockingly violent act when she was sixteen, and has never really been able to explain that dark impulse—even to Fabian. Now that Fabian’s dead, why is she still trying?
Meanwhile, as Detective Henry Peacher investigates Fabian’s death, he discovers that shortly before he died, Fabian pulled the files of two former patients. One was of Nadine Raines, one of Henry’s former high school classmates. Henry still remembers the disturbing attack on a teacher that marked Nadine as a deeply troubled teen.
More shockingly, the other file was of Johnny Streeter, who is now serving a life sentence for a mass shooting five years ago. The shooting devastated the town and everyone—including Henry, who is uncomfortable with the “hero” status the tragedy afforded him—is ready to move on. But the appearance of his file brings up new questions. Maybe there is a decades-old connection between Nadine and Streeter. And maybe that somehow explains what Nadine is doing in Fabian’s office nearly twenty years after being his patient. Or how Fabian ended up dead two days after her return. Or why Nadine has fled town once again.
But as Nadine and Henry head toward a confrontation, both will discover that the secrets of people’s hearts are rarely simple, and—even in the hidden depths of a psychologist’s files—rarely as they appear.
Pre-order - releases 24th July
I received a copy in exchange for an honest review!
What I say: The Last Thing I Told You is a high-octane psychological thriller full of drama and twists.
The story focuses on the investigation into the murder of therapist Dr Mark Fabian. As part of the murder investigation we get a spilt POV from former client Nadine who is still struggling with a large amount of guilt and confusion, plus from investigating detective Henry Peacher.
Nadine becomes fixated on things she cannot change and has a huge amount of guilt around past mistruths or half-truths. She finds a strange sort of comfort in accepting the 'guidance' from the deceased Dr Fabian and in finally accepting the belief that she is crazy.
Henry finds himself confronted with the past when the investigation seems to point him straight towards Nadine and other past crimes.
The tone is purposefully awkward and abrupt at times. This work well to add to a sense of confusion and mistrust. Whenever I thought I'd got Nadine figured out then something else would happen to throw doubt on everything that happened before. I liked this strange tone and found myself wondering who would be speaking next.
4 Stars in my Sky!
Finding Me - Bltiz
by Judith Keim
Salty Key Inn Series, Book 1
Publisher: Wild Quail Publishing
Sheena Sullivan Morelli and her sisters, Darcy and Regan, receive the unexpected news that their Uncle Gavin Sullivan, the black sheep of the family, has left them a hotel on the Gulf coast of Florida. The gift comes with a twist. They must live together for one year at the hotel and prepare the hotel to receive guests within a year. Sheena, eager to escape her role of unappreciated wife and mother, can’t wait for the opportunity to find herself. Dreams of sitting on the beach sipping margaritas are shattered when they see the property in need of renovation. But they begin their work of meeting the challenge. If they succeed, the bulk of Gavin’s estate will be theirs. Facing the unexpected, working together, the three sisters learn a lot about each other and the gift of family love.
Other Books in the Salty Key Inn Series:
Darcy Sullivan and her two sisters continue to work hard at the Salty Key Inn, the small, Florida hotel they unexpectedly inherited. In order to inherit the rest of Uncle Gavin’s sizeable estate, they must meet his challenge to open the neglected hotel by the end of the year. Darcy figures once they meet the challenge, she’ll take off, travel the world, and maybe, just maybe, begin writing the world’s best novel. When she meets Nick Howard, an older man who is a reporter for the local newspaper and takes over his weekly column, her life changes. Under his tutelage, she writes about local residents, learning to see people in a different way—especially after meeting a cousin no one knew about. Her joy at having the part-time job that’s always been her dream is shattered when she learns Nick is dying. For support, she turns to Austin Blakely, whose grandmother is terminally ill, and through their growing relationship, comes to understand what true love is.
As Regan Sullivan continues to work with her sisters, Sheena and Darcy, to meet their Uncle Gavin’s challenge to make the Salty Key Inn a success, she wonders why she can never find the man of her dreams. Her sisters are happily settled with men they love. Why can’t she do the same? When she’s involved in a motorcycle accident with Brian Harwood, Regan learns to think differently about both her appearance and herself. And as she deals with her injuries and helps Brian recover from the accident she feels guilty about causing, Regan discovers that the love she’s always sought has been there all along.
In early January, Sheena Morelli sat with her two sisters in a conference room of the Boston law office of Lowell, Peabody and Wilson, waiting to meet with Archibald Wilson himself.
“Do either of you have any idea why we’re really here?” said her youngest sister, Regan. “The letter from Mr. Wilson said something about a reading of a will. But that doesn’t make sense to me. I didn’t even know Gavin Sullivan.”
“Me, neither. He’s probably some rich uncle leaving us a lot of money,” teased Darcy, the typical middle sister, who was always kidding around.
Sheena laughed with her. The three Sullivan sisters had no rich relatives that they knew of in their modest family. They were hard workers who relied on only themselves to make it through life. Well, thought Sheena, maybe Regan wasn’t as reliable as she and Darcy. As the baby of the family, Regan had always been a bit spoiled. At twenty-two and eager to escape her old life in Boston, Regan wasn’t about to spend too much time with the family. This time, though, at the formal request of Mr. Wilson, Regan had dutifully left New York City to come to “Bean Town.”
As Sheena waited in the conference room for Mr. Wilson to show up, she studied Regan out of the corner of her eye. With her long, black hair, big, violet-blue eyes, and delicate Sullivan features, she was a knockout—a Liz Taylor look-alike.
Darcy sat on the other side of Sheena in a stiff-backed chair. Studying Darcy’s blue eyes, red hair, and freckled nose, Sheena thought of her as cute…and funny…and maybe a little annoying, though everyone seemed to love Darcy’s sassy attitude. At twenty-six, Darcy claimed she hadn’t found her true calling. Whatever that meant.
Sheena had found her calling in a hurry when she got pregnant as she was starting college, where she’d planned to take nursing courses. Ironic as it was, her wanting to become a nurse and getting caught like that, had changed many things for her. Now, at thirty-six and with a sixteen-year-old son and a fourteen-year-old daughter, she still hadn’t recovered from losing her dream.
She straightened in her chair as a tall, gray-haired man entered the room carrying a file of papers.
“Good morning, ladies. I’m Archibald Wilson, the lawyer representing Gavin Sullivan. I’m pleased you all could attend this reading of his will,” he announced in a bass voice. He looked the three of them over critically. “Which one of you is Sheena Sullivan Morelli?”
She raised her hand. “I’m Sheena. Do you mean the ‘Big G’ Sullivan?”
Wide-eyed, her sisters released loud gasps. The name “Big G Sullivan” had been mentioned in the family on rare occasions, and only when her father and his two other brothers had had too many beers. And then it was never kindly.
Mr. Wilson nodded with satisfaction. “Yes, that’s my client. Sheena, though all three of you are beneficiaries, I will address you on most of the issues, as it pertains to the specific language of the will.”
Sheena sat back in her chair, her mind spinning. This scene seemed so surreal. Their father had broken his relationship with this brother years ago. He’d always said his brother was a loser, someone he could never trust.
“He’s left something for us?” said Darcy. “I was only teasing about such a thing.”
The lawyer studied Darcy a moment, took a seat facing the three of them on the other side of the small conference table, and opened the file he had carried in.
He began to speak: “I, Gavin R. Sullivan, of the State of Florida, being of sound and disposing mind and memory, do make, publish, and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament…”
Certain words faded in and out of Sheena’s shocked state of mind. Though her sisters might have been too young to remember him, she had a clear image of the big, jovial man who’d captivated her with his smile, his belly laughs, and the way her father grew quiet when they were in the same room together. On one particular visit, the “Big G”, as he was known, gave her a stuffed monkey that she’d kept on her bed for years. It wasn’t until the fur on the monkey was worn off that she’d noticed a seam was tearing. One day, while she was probing the hole, a gold coin fell out.
Sheena showed the coin to her mother, who snatched it away and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone about this. It’s very valuable. Someday you’ll need it. Until then, I’ll keep it safe for you. Your uncle loves you very much.” As her father walked through the doorway, her mother held a finger to her lips.
Until now, Sheena had forgotten all about the coin.
Archibald Wilson’s voice brought her back to the present. “Sheena, you, Darcy, and Regan are now the legal owners of the Salty Key Inn, but you, Sheena, will be in charge of taking over the small hotel in Florida, as your uncle directed in his will. Is that understood by the three of you?”
Sheena and her sisters dutifully bobbed their heads. The bewilderment on her sisters’ faces matched her own feelings. How in the world were the three of them going to run a hotel?
“Remember,” Mr. Wilson warned them, “the hotel may not be sold for a period of one year. And the three of you must live there together for that entire time if you are to have a share in the rest of his sizeable estate, the details of which will remain undisclosed until the end of your year in Florida. You have just two weeks to prepare. In conversations I had with him in setting up the will, I believe Gavin Sullivan intended for this to be a life lesson for each of you.”
“Whoa! Wait a minute! What about the lease on the condo I share with two of my friends? I can’t just walk away from that,” said Darcy.
“And mine?” said Regan.
The lawyer nodded. “Read over the conditions of the will. Any expenses like that will be taken care of by Gavin’s estate. All expenses as you settle in will be handled through me. But, beware, there will be hidden tests for you throughout this entire process. Tests that could make a lot of difference to each of you.”
Judith Keim was born and raised in Elmira, New York, and now makes her home in Idaho with her husband and long-haired dachshund, Winston, and other members of her family. Growing up, books were always present - being read, ready to go back to the library or about to be discovered. Information from the books was shared in general conversation, giving everyone in her family a wealth of knowledge and a lot of imagination. Perhaps that is why she was drawn to the idea of writing stories early on. Judith particularly loves to write novels about women who face unexpected challenges with strength and find love along the way.
Website * Twitter * Facebook * Instagram * Promo Link
The Unbinding of Mary Reade - Review
The Unbinding of Mary Reade
by Miriam McNamara
What they say: A clever, romantic novel based on the true story of a girl who disguised herself as a boy to sail with the infamous pirates Anne Bonny and Calico Jack—and fell in love with Anne Bonny.
There’s no place for a girl in Mary’s world. Not in the home of her mum, desperately drunk and poor. Not in the household of her wealthy granny, where no girl can be named an heir. And certainly not in the arms of Nat, her childhood love who never knew her for who she was. As a sailor aboard a Caribbean merchant ship, Mary’s livelihood—and her safety—depends on her ability to disguise her gender.
At least, that’s what she thinks is true. But then pirates attack the ship, and in the midst of the gang of cutthroats, Mary spots something she never could have imagined: a girl pirate.
The sight of a girl standing unafraid upon the deck, gun and sword in hand, changes everything. In a split-second decision, Mary turns her gun on her own captain, earning herself the chance to join the account and become a pirate alongside Calico Jack and Anne Bonny.
For the first time, Mary has a shot at freedom. But imagining living as her true self is easier, it seems, than actually doing it. And when Mary finds herself falling for the captain’s mistress, she risks everything—her childhood love, her place among the crew, and even her life.
Breathlessly romantic and brilliantly subversive, The Unbinding of Mary Reade is sure to sweep readers off their feet and make their hearts soar.
What I say: The Unbinding of Mary Reade is full of forbidden YA romance, mistaken identities and pirates galore!
In a Twelfth Night meets As You Like It pirate twist we meet Mary Reade who has been living a double life. She has spent most of her time disguised as her brother Mark. The story is told across timelines with flashbacks to her past. In the present we meet her working on board a ship as it is attacked by pirates. Dressed as Mark, Mary finds herself spared by the infamous pirate captain, Calico Jack Rackham, and his pirate girlfriend Anne Bonny. I was a big fan of the TV show Black Sails so already had an image of how these two pirates should be and look, but it was interesting to see them portrayed in a very different manner through Mary's teenage eyes.
The representation of gender identity is handled very tactfully. I loved Mary as Mark. I felt so bad for her whenever she was forced to dress as Mary again. Her pain and confusion is palpable - I really empathised with the struggle even though it's not something I've experienced myself.
Where so many other have failed The Unbinding of Mary Reade takes a positive approach to bisexuality. BUT there is a lot of confusion with some elements including the blatant homophobia and sexism demonstrated, particularly by the male characters in England. This shows the unfortunate attitudes of the time.
I liked Mary even with her incessant pursuit of the idolised version of Nat. I wanted her to be happy with she is and to get a HEA. Where I liked Mary wasn't won over by either Anne or Jack. This was surprising considering how much I loved them in Black Sails. Jack is borderline abusive to Anne and considering what a badass Anne Bonny was she definitely takes a lot more nonsense from him than I was expecting. Perhaps this too was down to the position of women at the time in the 1700s?!
The action itself is kinda slow. A LOT of the focus is on the romance, but I wanted more time spent focusing on a being a pirate and life at sea. Mostly I wanted Anne to be the badass I was expecting! I liked the ending and the message of the book is good. I think I just wanted a quicker pace and more chemistry between Mary and Anne.
Clandestine - Tour
Clandestine - Ascension #2
by Hannah Rials
Genre: YA Paranormal
Aletha Press
Cheyenne Lane never believed it could come to this—imprisoned by her own family, who are plotting to overthrow the Vampire Council. Ripped away from the happiness of her summer romance and friendship in New Orleans, Cheyenne is forced to begin her education at Clandestine, the secret Deuxsang University, one year early.
She is guarded constantly, separated from her best friend Anne, and desperate for any word from Eli and the witches. Meanwhile, her cousin Lilith has discovered that Cheyenne possesses all four vampiric abilities—unheard of for a Deuxsang—and intends to use her in the Ascending’s rebellious scheme.
At 17, Cheyenne finds herself the center of a centuries-old conspiracy involving the vampires, Deuxsang, and witches, and everyone is telling her who she should trust and what she should do. Her head is too full of voices and opinions, and it’s time for Cheyenne to make up her own mind.
Is she ready to step into the role she was made for? Who can she trust? Who is her friend and who is her enemy? Is she really a born leader? All questions that only she can answer. As the information and scenario gets more confusing, she knows she must listen to her intuition if she is going to shift the truth from all the lies.
Add Ascension to Goodreads
Ascension * Clandestine
Hannah's favorite quote from the book:
“If you fail, you'll wish you'd never been made.”
Ascension Testimonials
"Their love story anchors the novel, the first installment of a series, and sets the stage for the cliffhanger ending. An entertaining and promising series opener about an appealing human and vampire hybrid. "-Kirkus Reviews
"Dark, surprising, and full of twists, the Ascension series is a delectable addition to vampire canon. Rials paints a rich and engrossing world of vampires, half-vampires and witches– each with their own agenda. Cheyenne’s struggle to be free is one that every girl will recognize, and I rooted for her as she bristled against the roles cast for her by society. It’s the story of a girl yearning to come into her own powers, powers both frightening and beautiful."-Maggie Thrash, author of L.A. Times Book Prize nominee Honor Girl
Kirkus review for Clandestine
As Maryville native and a senior in college at University of Tennessee at Chattanooga, Hannah Rials began writing her first novel, Ascension, at age twelve. Her first YA novel Ascension is a modern day teenage romance filled with "double-blooded" vampires and revengeseeking witches. Published by Aletha Press of Maryville, TN is the second book in the trilogy, Clandestine, was written and editing while she was a full-time college student. After graduating from University of Tennessee at Chattanooga with a BA in Creative Writing, she will be attending college at Bath Spa University’s MA (England): Creative Writing for Young People; a yearlong master’s degree.
Hannah is a vampire fanatic, a New Orleans lover, and a dog obsessor. She loves her friends, family, and finding new adventures. To keep up with Hannah, you can find plenty of pictures of her corgi Buddy and her travels on Instagram @herials because who doesn’t love a cute corgi picture? Connect with Hannah on Facebook, Twitter and via her website.
“I feel like I am living proof that dreams do come true.”- Hannah Rials
Website * Goodreads * Twitter * Facebook
Blog Tour Organized by:
Whatcha Reading Wednesday - The Last Thing I Told ...
Juan Pablo and the Butterflies - Blitz
Shift - Review
Weekend Freebies
Tough Love - Promo Blitz
The Brightest Stars - Pre-Order
Coming Soon - Letting Go of Gravity
RESPECT - Cover Reveal
Am Reading - RUSH
Cover Reveal - The Berlin Tunnel
Releases this Week - The Accidentals
Coming Soon - Echoes
Fri-YA The Traitor's Ruin
Kiss of the Royal - Tour & Review
Whatcha Reading Wednesday - Daughter of the Pirate...
Where Have All the Elves Gone - Book Blitz
Books To Movies Monday - Mortal Engines
YA Fun - Summer Books
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Quality Reading Blog
The State of DirectX 12 With Microsoft & Oxide Games
Discussing the State of DirectX 12 With Microsoft & Oxide Games
Occurring one week from now is the 2016 Game Developers Conference in San Francisco. GDC has been a significant show for quite a while, however as of late it has taken on a much greater job as what occurs and what is declared at GDC have more prominent ramifications for engineers, yet end-clients also. GDC has been the setting for PC equipment dispatches, designs API dispatches, and that’s just the beginning. What’s more, GDC 2016 vows to be a lot of the equivalent, as in the PC world designers hope to grasp DirectX 12, Virtual Reality, and other rising advances.
In front of one week from now’s show, I got an opportunity to plunk down and discuss work with an intriguing trio of geeks: Brian Langley, Microsoft’s DirectX 12 lead, Max McMullen, Microsoft’s standard lead for Direct3D, and Dan Baker, fellow benefactor and master designer for Oxide Games. Microsoft obviously is hoping to further drive the improvement of (and designers towards) DirectX 12, as the main games turn out for the APi. In the interim Oxide’s Ashes of the Singularity has been a typical sight around here, as while it won’t guarantee the title of the first DX12 game – that in fact goes to the new Windows 10 port of Gears of War – Ashes is seemingly the primary game to exploit the API. Accordingly, there’s a great deal of energy with Ashes at Oxide, yet at Microsoft also in front of its looming March 31st dispatch.
With the opportunity to converse with designers on the two sides of the range – API advancement at Microsoft and application improvement at Oxide – I needed to get some information about their encounters with raising the API and actualizing it in games, what their discernments are of the more extensive market, what engineer reaction has been similar to, and what’s in store next for DirectX 12. In spite of the fact that there are seldom great disclosures in short discussions, for example, these, it was none the less an intriguing perspective into how DirectX 12 has flourished since it formally transported back in July with Windows 10.
It didn’t take long for our discussion to arrive at the purpose of examining DirectX 12 appropriation, both from an improvement point of view and an end-client outlook. Verifiably it has taken numerous years for new forms of directx 12 download windows 10 64 bit to be generally received by general match-ups. The purposes behind this fluctuate, yet it’s frequently a blend of moderate client reception of new OSes, slow engineer selection when working with multi-stage titles – designers will, in general, adhere to the API that most intently coordinates the consoles – and the way that new forms of DirectX and new equipment guidelines have regularly gone inseparably.
DirectX 12 is altogether different in that regard, both on the grounds that it keeps running on 2012+ equipment and that the important OS redesign is free. Truth be told free is likely having an immense influence here, as Baker has referenced that Oxide’s seeing a “genuinely solid take-up” of the new OS. For reference, Steam’s latest equipment review puts Windows 10 64-piece selection at 34% of all machines overviewed, and with a sub-1% hole, all things considered, it will cross Windows 7 64-piece this month.
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Release Blitz: St. Valentine~Sinful Saints Bk1 by Rain Murphy
Anchor Group Publishing is proud to bring you
St. Valentine ~ Sinful Saints Bk1
By Rain Murphy
***Don't miss the interview with Rain Murphy
Saint Valentine is not the saint he would have everyone believe him to be. In his madness he cursed three bloodlines: the Vampire, the Servant, and the Mate. What he had not considered was their free will. Once his creation discovered his many lies, they killed him on February 14th, a day they celebrate still.
River Sinclair has been given the power, in addition to the responsibility, to lead, care for, and control the Vampires; however, his Mate is the only entity that can complete him. River, among other Vampires, is destined to mate with a cursed bloodline that has eluded the Vampires for virtually fifteen centuries.
Rae thought herself an ordinary human until the day this strangely dressed man came walking into her bar. Rae soon discovers all the secrets that her family has been keeping from her, including her true nature and the meaning behind her name.
Currently available on:
Rain Murphy Author of the series,“Sinful Saints†published by Anchor Group Publishing, is also the author of the “DECIDING ISLAND SERIES†also published by Anchor Group Publishing. Rain won the 2014 “Top Clean Read†& made Amazon’s top seller list. Her books are geared toward adults, young and old, with the sexual passages inferred. It will appeal to lovers of fiction, fantasy, and mythological creatures.
Rain holds an Associate of Applied Business in Business Management and a Bachelor of Science in Psychology.
When Rain is not writing, reading, or promoting one of her two series you can find her spending all her time with her children and grandchildren. They like to camp, kayak, spent time on the beach and have fun plotting her next book.
Follow Rain on
www.facebook.com/decidingislandseries
www.facebook.com/authorrainmurphy
https://twitter.com/rainauthorofDI
www.facebook.com/sinnerofsaints
Interview with Rain
Where did the idea for St. Valentine originate?
RM: In the beginning it started as a request from my kids for holiday stories. It ended up turning into a full length novel. There will be other installments in the Sinful Saints series.
What makes this story special to you?
RM: After my mother was diagnosed with cancer, I wanted a platform to raise awareness and funds for cancer.org. In this book I included 2 very special poems and a link for readers to make donations to cancer.org. So many people are affected by this disease and I wanted to play a small role in helping such a wonderful organization.
Tell us about the authors whose poems are included.
RM: There are two poems included in the book; Kristin Clark's Time and Ruby Ila Hergesheimer's Far Lima. Kristin is a friend and fellow author with Anchor Group and Ila was my aunt.
Release Blitz: Branding A Legacy by H.J. Bellus
Release Blitz: Shuttergirl by CD Reiss
Are you ready for a different kind of love story?
Meet Michael & Laine in this Hollywood themed second chance romance by CD Reiss!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1RXBv1n
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/1FlYvSs
Barnes & Noble - http://bit.ly/1d3hzub
iBooks - http://apple.co/1KS8bUC
Kobo - http://bit.ly/1bBO020
ShutterGirl Book Trailer:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_u2QJM0key0&feature=youtu.be
ONE movie star on the cusp of greatness
ONE broken girl who touched him
TEN years to forget her
A MILLION stories in Hollywood
I am not hurt.
I don’t need a second chance with him, or a life I thought I had.
While he was out forgetting me to become a movie star, I was building a career out of nothing. A career as a paparazzi, but a career. For a foster kid who bounced around every home in Los Angeles, that wasn’t easy.
This camera is all I have.
He’s nothing to me. Every time I take his picture and sell it, I remind myself that I did it all without him or his approval, his cinnamon smell or his clear green eyes. He lights up the screen like a celestial body, but he’s nothing but a paycheck to me.
He can throw my camera off a balcony, and nothing has to change. We can stay king and queen of the same city, and different worlds.
Except this is Hollywood, and here, anything can happen.
Excerpt #1
I stroked his hair, waist deep in peace, all worry gone for the moment, and floating in no more than an ocean of gratitude. I must have been more vulnerable than I realized, or he’d reopened some wound with his kindness, because though my sweet reverie stayed, as the minutes passed, a layer of need fitted itself on top of it.
I needed to tell him, if not the details, the outlines of who I was.
“I want you to know,” I whispered, starting somewhere small, then everything I didn’t want to say spilled out. “I have stuff. I’ve never been to jail, but you know, it’s stuff, and it’s ugly, and it scares me. Because, I mean, you’re so perfect, and I’m… I’m just a mess. I’m not whole. I’m a bunch of pieces of a person I cobbled together.” My eyes got wet when I thought of the comparisons between us and that picture in my silverware drawer. “So if you have to move on when you realize that, I’ll understand. You have an image, and if anyone understands protecting a career, it’s me. I mean, I’ll be mad, don’t get that wrong, but also.” I swallowed and blinked, shifting my head so he wouldn’t feel the tear on his forehead. “I won’t blame you.”
I waited for an answer. Anything. A change in position or a word on any subject. The weather. Sports. Something. But all he did was breathe.
I smiled so wide, tears fell into my mouth. He was sleeping.
CD Reiss is a USA Today and Amazon bestseller. She still has to chop wood and carry water, which was buried in the fine print. Her lawyer is working it out with God but in the meantime, if you call and she doesn’t pick up, she’s at the well, hauling buckets. Born in New York City, she moved to Hollywood, California to get her master’s degree in screenwriting from USC. In case you want to know, that went nowhere, but it did embed TV story structure in her head well enough for her to take a big risk on a TV series structured erotic series called Songs of Submission. It’s about a kinky billionaire hung up on his ex-wife, an ingenue singer with a wisecracking mouth; art, music and sin in the city of Los Angeles. Critics have dubbed the books “poetic,” “literary,” and “hauntingly atmospheric,” which is flattering enough for her to put it in a bio, but embarrassing enough for her not to tell her husband, or he might think she’s some sort of braggart who’s too good to give the toilets a once-over every couple of weeks or chop a cord of wood. If you meet her in person, you should call her Christine. Stalk Her: Facebook | Twitter | Website | Goodreads | Pinterest | Instagram
GIVEAWAY & NOTE FROM AUTHOR
I am so happy with the response to Shuttergirl, and I cannot wait to send Michael and Laine out into the world, because who doesn’t swoon over a second chance at love?
It’s a new genre for me, and I’m exploding with excitement, so I’ve dropped some fantastic reasons for readers to get the book right away.
TREAT YOURSELF LIKE A MOVIE STAR!
$500 Spa Gift Card
If you could get an hour, or ten away from the daily grind of paparazzi and interviews (or the job and kids), what would you do?
Get a foot rub/slash/pedicure? A massage? Maybe something called a Sleep Treatment that right now sounds better than sex?
Maybe you’d bring a friend or two, or maybe you’d just get a manipedi when you wanted one. Because the life of a megastar ain’t for the weak-willed or lazy, and running from paparazzi can really wear down a girl’s nails.
Woodhouse Spas are no joke. They’re all over the country and they’re….sigh. Fabulous. But if you don’t live near one, we can do Burke Williams, Halcyon Days or Red Door.
Take the fun SHUTTERGIRL READER QUIZ!
The link to the quiz is in the back of the book, and yes, that’s the ONLY place to find it! There are bonus questions relating to Jonathan and Antonio for extra prizes. You have until June 3rd to enter! That gives you a solid two weeks to read the book and get your chance at a $500 movie star spa treatment!
If you are a paperback reader, email me and we’ll work it out .
Where There's Smoke by Sarabeth Caplin
Pastor Henry Collins is hailed as a hero after rescuing a teenage girl from a burning church. But the real reason he was at the right place at the right time is known only to him and Hannah Mercer, the teenage girl he rescued: a girl whose faith has more to do with keeping up appearances than anything to do with God.
Lia Anders is a classmate of Hannah’s: a girl whose coming out as a lesbian resulted in immediate expulsion from the church. As an unlikely friendship develops between the two, Hannah begins to realize the error of her hypocritical ways, and encourages Henry to make a decision that will forever alter the course of their lives. But for Henry, the price of living a lie is easier than owning up to the truth.
Where There’s Smoke is a story that asks: who are we really? Are we the sum of all our actions? And is the note we finish our lives on the most defining of them all?
As wisps of smoke curled under Hannah’s nose, she wondered if it had finally happened: she’d woken up to find herself in hell.
I had it coming, she thought, defeated and unwilling to move from the darkness of the church basement. She felt no fear; apathy did not allow for much feeling of anything. It’s all a dream anyway.
Until alarm bells starting screeching, and then it became reality.
Suddenly alert, Hannah felt panic settle in as the air thickened and her eyes watered. Hannah never considered hell to be a place of literal fire. She placed more faith in Dante’s idea of it than the Bible’s. But this–this literal choking agony–it couldn’t be what she deserved, could it? She was sorry–desperately sorry. For everything.
As a wall of smoke started to close in on the last she’d know of the world, fighting back seemed like a futile option. She’d been running too long. This ending was inevitable. It was deserved.
She closed her eyes, ready to meet whoever or whatever might be waiting. A sturdy pair of arms lifted her from the searing floor, but she didn’t bother opening her eyes, realizing there was nothing she could do now that the devil had caught up with her.
Buy Now For Only $.99
Sarahbeth Caplin holds a bachelor's degree in English Literature from Kent State University. It was during college that she first saw her name in print as a columnist for her campus newspaper, The Daily Kent Stater. Now living in Denver, Colorado, she can be found in various microbreweries when not chained to her laptop working on future books, with themes exploring religion, feminism, and self-exploration. Find more writings at www.sbethcaplin.com, or follow her on Twitter @SbethCaplin
Wrapped in Shadows by Lisa Eugene
One night of shadows. One night of bliss. One night of evil. Katherine Regina Vandercamp has everything. Wealth. Beauty. Social standing. She’s the heiress to the Vandercamp fortune and engaged to the man of her dreams. One night it all shatters… Finding her fiancé with another woman, she is distraught and makes a reckless decision to go with a friend to a sex club. Needing total anonymity, she has sex with a stranger in a room of total darkness, a sensuous cocoon of silky shadows. She has no idea who this man is or what he looks like. But it is in the shadows she finds solace. In the shadows she finds bliss. She can’t forget this stranger’s touch, his taste, his scent. He infiltrates her dreams and holds her thoughts and body captive. But had she made a false assumption about her fiancé? Had he really been unfaithful? She regrets her hasty actions and is tormented by guilt. She is determined to marry the man she loves and forget her stranger. Sinister events unfolded at the sex club. There was a gruesome murder and her stranger has been charged with the crime. Katie knows he’s innocent because she was with him at the time of the murder. She is shocked to find that he’s not a stranger after all. Will she reveal her horrible secret? Will she besmirch the Vandercamp name? Will she risk losing the man who has her heart to save the man who’s touched her soul? Will coming forward put her in danger? Her life is in turmoil. All because of that one night. A night that changed everything…
Then the lights went out and the room was thrown into total darkness. Shit! I heard the breath shuttle from my lungs and tried to draw it back in. Instead, the soft rasping sound was consumed by the heavy darkness. A muffled sound caused my body to stiffen. I frowned, but hardly had time to dwell on it because the door opened and a large silhouette filled the doorway. My heart slammed against my ribs, thudding fast with pure adrenaline.The door closed suddenly and the room was again shrouded in darkness. Oh, God… What the fuck was I doing? Had I lost my mind? Deafening silence poured into the dark room as the figure stood eerily still. “Is the darkness okay for you?” The voice was a purr that rolled over my skin, peppering it with goose bumps. My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. I nodded and didn’t know how he knew, but I heard his steps draw closer. A palm traced slowly down my cheek, and because I hadn’t expected it, I jumped back, startled. I swallowed hard, my breath now panting through my parted lips. “Relax, beautiful…” That voice again. A gravelly disembodied whisper. The sound made my nipples stretch. I tried to imagine what he might look like, then scolded myself because not knowing had been my specific stipulation. I knew he was big. That I could tell by the large contortions in the shadows. “Lean back.” I obeyed the hypnotic voice and shifted my shoulders. A long moment passed where all that could be heard was our mingled breathing, feathery music that filled the dense space with anticipation. I knew he couldn’t possibly see me through the thick darkness, but I could feel the heat of his eyes searching, probing, and gliding over my body like a caress. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling absurdly exposed. “I want to kiss you,” he whispered, then brought his lips to mine. I thought I would dissolve into a puddle of lust when his supple lips crushed down on mine. That skillful tongue swept into my mouth, playful at first, then delved deep for a smooth tango. He tasted wonderful. Rich. Masculine. Decadent. The shadow folded low and his fingers found the soft flesh on the inside of my thighs, persuading them apart with the slightest pressure. I started to hyperventilate, my breath panting from my lips. I was suddenly frightened, rattled by these overwhelming sensations and the intensity of my sexual need. Liquid seeped from my body to coat the inside of my thighs and I could smell the potent fragrance. My body stiffened. “Relax, beautiful,” he whispered. Soft lips pressed against my thigh, planting tender kisses. “I’ll give you what you need.” The power of his whispered voice was all consuming. It was warm caramel pouring over my heated body, and I reacted instinctively to its honeyed sweetness. I melted back onto the bed in one languid stretch. I felt him press his face to my pussy, heard him inhale deeply, and then he groaned lustily. That tongue, that instrument of superlative talent plunged through my folds and invaded me with a voracious kiss. I gasped as white-hot pleasure blasted my body, a full blown assault on my senses. He maneuvered the very tip just over my clit, then vibrated it with perfect pressure that had me clawing at the sheets and arching my back high. Pleasure knifed through my pussy, gloriously sharp as he drew tight figure eights with his tongue over the bulb of straining flesh. “Oh. My. Gaaaawwuuud.” That husky, guttural cry could not have come from me, I was sure, but he did it again and I groaned, long and hard like a woman possessed by demons. He was making long fluid swipes now, dragging his tongue from bottom to top, insinuating it into and between my folds. My nails dug into his scalp as I fisted the short waves of his hair. I bucked my hips hard against his face, uncaring now about the inarticulate sounds coming from my throat. The pleasure was unbelievable, the heat of his mouth and the glide of his tongue. I slipped into a passionate euphoria that quickly enveloped my body. “You taste so fucking good,” the voice whispered passionately. “I want to eat you up.” He latched onto my flesh and sucked, then lapped his tongue furiously against my swollen flesh. Pleasure burst inside me, brilliant white stars zooming across an infinite black sky. I bit my lip as fire licked through my sex and burned a searing path up each knuckle of my spine. I arched my back and shouted into the darkness, my body jerking and seizing hard with a powerful climax. I collapsed back onto the bed, the breath dragging from my lungs like I’d just run a marathon. My limbs quaked, determined not to follow commands as I tried to steady them. “I…I…God, this is…is…” What did I want to say? Why wasn’t my tongue working? Why did I want to crawl inside this man and never leave? Lisa Eugene began writing as a way to mentally escape from the hectic medical world where she has been a practicing nurse for over twenty years. After publishing her first novel, STRICTLY BUSINESS, she quickly learned that readers couldn't get enough of the world she created and now she lives out her wildest fantasies by writing steamy romantic suspense for her fan-favorite Washington Memorial Hospital series. When she's not plotting her next dangerous, fast-paced, sexy adventure, you can find her juggling a full time job, playing soccer mom, or curled up reading a good romance.
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Queerness, Brooklynese, and theatre on a budget: an interview with Hannah Bristow and Laurie Ogden
Posted on 30th June 2019 by Claudia Graham
On Saturday, I was lucky enough to interview actors Laurie Ogden and Hannah Bristow, who are currently playing teenage sweethearts Connie and Francesca in the European premiere of Napoli, Brooklyn at Park Theatre, London. The play centres on an Italian-American family 1960s Brooklyn. It deftly weaves themes such as Catholicism, immigration, and domestic abuse, into a tight domestic drama. As Ogden neatly surmises, “it’s mainly about the love and belonging, from all different kinds of perspectives.”
Ogden plays Connie, a second-generation Irish immigrant. Her relation to the play’s central family is through Francesca. Francesca is the youngest of three sisters, a second generation Italian immigrant, rebellious and headstrong; Connie is her cautious yet trusting counterpart. Both characters are 16, touchingly naïve, Catholic, and closeted.
The romantic relationship between Connie and Francesca is one of the key storylines of the play. “The thing that really drew me to Connie was getting to play a queer character,” Ogden tells me. “The love between Francesca and Connie is so pure and young and joyful, and you don’t often get to see that in a young queer relationship on stage.” The exuberance and hopefulness of the two young characters is touching and childlike, as they hatch plans to escape America and be free to live openly together.
Bristow highlights how unusual a part like this is – “a lot of queer stories are about the trauma of that queerness; I’ve played a lot of queer characters on stage and it’s actually quite upsetting to do that.” In contrast, the pair tell me that they have always approached this storyline as a love story first and foremost. Ogden says that it was only after their first performance that the significance of the queer element became apparent. “We felt a reaction from the audience: it wasn’t a negative reaction but it was definitely that people weren’t used to seeing it and it made them slightly uncomfortable.”
From left: Laurie Ogden and Hannah Bristow in rehearsal
On the flip side, the two actors recall a review from one of their regional performances that referred to the “friendship” between their characters. “I was like, how did you get friendship?” Ogden laughs, before pointing out the double standard – “if Connie had been a boy and we’d played it like a friendship, without the kissing or anything, people would be like ‘they’re definitely going to get together.’”
Having seen the play, it is mind-boggling to think just how unsubtle a performance would be required to make the romance more obvious. Perhaps such a reaction is, in part, due to how embedded their queer storyline is within the play as a whole. It is rare to see queer storylines not forming the core narrative of a piece nor being loudly signposted in marketing material. Ogden views this as a step in the right direction: “As much as we need stories that centre on [queerness], I think it’s equally important to have stories where it’s not like ‘oh, this is a queer play.’ Like, I don’t think this play is a queer play, we just happen to exist within it, and I think that’s very positive.”
A more practical challenge of performing in ‘Napoli, Brooklyn’ is the straight-from-The-Sopranos accent. The actors tell me that they spent a lot of time with an accent coach and that it wasn’t as simple as having all the cast reproduce the exact same Brooklynese twang. “Tina, the eldest sister, she’s written differently than the younger sisters, she’s written with a broader accent,” Bristow explains. Tina is the least educated of the three girls and works as a manual labourer, “so that accent variant between the family is written in the script”.
Connie, however, speaks without an accent variant in spite of her father’s heavy Irish lilt. Ogden recalls early discussions with the accent coach and director in which they came to the conclusion that “it was important for me to be closer to Francesca in accent, to tell the story of us in relation”. Ogden’s advice on picking up accents is that “you kind of have to do it badly and extremely at first […] I think you have to do this really exaggerated version and then work with the accent coach to bring it down”. Bristow recalls honing her accent with her housemate, who was also auditioning for a part: “we spent a weekend just walking around the house like ‘hey, I’m walkin’ here!’”
Ogden and cast of Napoli, Brooklyn
Whilst learning accents, the pair also had to unlearn a few things to get back into the mindset of a 16 year old girl. “I think it’s about accessing the kind of pureness of all of your emotions, because it’s just love and anger and sadness, and when you are a teenager you feel them so extremely,” Ogden muses.
This is especially prominent in Francesca and her temper, Bristow highlights – “a lot of the conversation with her father is about him saying ‘learn to take it in’ and she’s not learnt to do that yet.” I asked how Bristow channels such a realistic and immediate fear in the scenes where Francesca comes head to head with her father and she hesitates. “I think [Robert Cavanah] when he’s playing Nic is frightening […] He’s a big man and when a big man’s shouting at you, it’s scary”. Although she adds that in reality Cavanah is “such a warm, lovely man” that it is only a fleeting fear.
Both Ogden and Bristow went down the parallel route of doing an undergraduate degree in English before realising acting was what they wanted to pursue. For Ogden, it took a while to come to that realisation; “no one in my family is in the arts, so I don’t think it felt particularly possible but something kept scratching away at me, as this thing I wanted to do […] I was really embarrassed about it because it felt like something that wasn’t possible for me”. It was her experience training with the NYT REP Company last year (a free training programme) that enabled her to view acting as an attainable career.
Ogden hails from Merseyside and she knows that the cost of training and professional development can be unaffordable for some people: “You can pick the specific things that excite you and go be inspired by them, and take advantage of as many free things as you can, whether it’s [training opportunities at] The Mono Box, Roundhouse, Barbican, Apples and Snakes, whatever it is. Because the most important thing is you being inspired. You don’t have to have seen all of the theatre in the world to be a great actor, but you have to be creatively open”.
Bristow is keen to signpost the many ticket schemes for under 25 year olds, as well as alternative means of watching theatre: “You can YouTube loads of Shakespeare plays […] I’ve watched a lot of new writing on YouTube as well. You can go to the National Archive and see any play that’s been on at the National ever for free. You just email ahead. Anyone can do that.” They are both enthusiastic to impart their knowledge and help potential young talent, but when asked about the next step in their careers, the pair are more cautiously optimistic. As Bristow puts it, “it happened and it’s still happening and I’m going to keep doing it until it stops happening”.
‘Napoli, Brooklyn’ is on at Park Theatre, London, until 13th July. More information and tickets available here.
Claudia Graham
Latest posts by Claudia Graham (see all)
BACKSTAGE AT CHRISTMAS: An interview with Meriel Cunningham - 24th December 2019
The View UpStairs – Soho Theatre - 4th August 2019
Queerness, Brooklynese, and theatre on a budget: an interview with Hannah Bristow and Laurie Ogden - 30th June 2019
accentsamericanemerging talentfinsbury parkhannah bristowidentityImmigrationinterviewlaurie ogdenlgbtLondonnapoli brooklynpark theatrepremierqueerqueernesstheatre
Arts Features / Career Spotlight / Theatre Leave a comment
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"I swear to you, then," said MacIan, after a pause. "I swear to you that nothing shall come between us. I swear to you that nothing shall be in my heart or in my head till our swords clash together. I swear it by the God you have denied, by the Blessed Lady you have blasphemed; I swear it by the seven swords in her heart. I swear it by the Holy Island where my fathers are, by the honour of my mother, by the secret of my people, and by the chalice of the Blood of God."
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It was developing countries where people are more cheery, wasn't it? ... Well, because when people are materially disadvantaged, maybe they're more optimistic, because they know that their destiny's not entirely in their own hands. And so they just have to hope for the best. Whereas in the developed world, where materially we've got plenty of stuff, and lots of opportunities, we know that the only thing stopping us from being happy is ourselves, which of course is a kind of downward spiral into disillusionment and hopelessness, isn't it, really? Because you can't -- you're never gonna get rid of yourself, so if you're basically unhappy, you're always gonna be unhappy, and in the remaining time that you've got left, you're either gonna be in despair about the fact that you've wasted your life, or maybe a bit cheerful about the fact that it's nearly over.
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Forever 21 With 800+ Stores Including Apache Mall Location Files Bankruptcy
Dunken
On Sunday Forever 21 announced that it has filed for chapter 11 bankruptcy. A news release from the company explains: "Forever 21 intends to use these proceedings to facilitate a global restructuring that will allow the Company to focus on a profitable core part of its operations. As part of its restructuring strategy, the Company plans to exit most of its international locations in Asia and Europe, but will continue operations in Mexico and Latin America."
CNN reports that: the chain will close up to 178 of its more than 800 stores, though it said in a letter to customers that the decisions as to which domestic stores will be closing are ongoing, pending the outcome of continued conversations with landlords."
More information on which locations will close is expected later this year. Linda Chang, Executive Vice President of Forever 21, Inc., said: "This was an important and necessary step to secure the future of our Company, which will enable us to reorganize our business and reposition Forever 21.”
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Legal settlements
Settlement should help black candidates in N Carolina county
RALEIGH, N.C. (AP) — A court settlement over election districts in a rural North Carolina county should help black candidates get on the local governing board after an absence of two decades. A national civil rights organization sued Jones County leaders and boards in February on behalf of black...
FILE - This April 13, 2016 file photo shows the seal of the Central Intelligence Agency at CIA headquarters in Langley, Va .A settlement was announced Thursday, Aug. 17, 2017, in a landmark lawsuit brought by the American Civil Liberties Union against two psychologists involved in designing the CIA's harsh interrogation program used in the war on terror. (AP Photo/Carolyn Kaster, File)
Legal deal over harsh CIA interrogations marks a milestone
SPOKANE, Wash. (AP) — A settlement in a landmark lawsuit against two psychologists who helped design the CIA's harsh interrogation methods used in the war on terror marked the first time the agency or its private contractors have been held accountable for the program, legal experts said Thursday...
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SPOKANE, Wash. (AP) — A settlement has been reached in a landmark lawsuit that the American Civil Liberties Union brought against two psychologists involved in designing the CIA's harsh interrogation program used in the war on terror. The deal announced Thursday marked the first time the CIA or its...
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CLEMSON, S.C. (AP) — A judge has approved a $250,000 settlement between Clemson University and the family of a student who died during a fraternity pledge run nearly three years ago. Court records filed Thursday show Judge Robin Stilwell approved the deal reached earlier this month. Clemson...
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FILE In this Aug. 19, 2010, file photo, Arizona Department of Corrections Director Charles Ryan listens during a news conference in Phoenix, Ariz. Ryan was grilled by a Phoenix judge Tuesday, Aug. 8, 2017, over whether he tried to undermine a court order that prohibited retaliation against inmates who participated in a class-action lawsuit over the quality of health care in the state's prisons. (AP Photo/Ross D. Franklin, file)
Arizona dogged by suit over quality of health care in prison
PHOENIX (AP) — For more than five years, Arizona has been dogged by a federal lawsuit that alleges the state provides shoddy medical care for its prisoners. Now, the state is facing the prospect of millions of dollars in fines over its failure to carry out reforms of its medical system. Arizona...
FILE - This March 29, 2012, file photo, shows the beef product that critics call "pink slime" during a plant tour of Beef Products Inc. in South Sioux City, Neb. Disney has reported spending $177 million on a legal settlement during the quarter that its subsidiary ABC and a South Dakota meat producer announced a settlement in a high-profile defamation lawsuit. ABC and South Dakota-based Beef Products Inc. announced their settlement in June 2017, but its terms are confidential. BPI sued ABC in 2012 over its reports on a beef product that critics dubbed "pink slime." (AP Photo/Nati Harnik, File)
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Former exec settles with matchmaking service over bad dates
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Network Working Group D. McPherson
Request for Comments: 4277 Arbor Networks
Category: Informational K. Patel
Experience with the BGP-4 Protocol
This memo provides information for the Internet community. It does
not specify an Internet standard of any kind. Distribution of this
memo is unlimited.
Copyright (C) The Internet Society (2006).
The purpose of this memo is to document how the requirements for
publication of a routing protocol as an Internet Draft Standard have
been satisfied by Border Gateway Protocol version 4 (BGP-4).
This report satisfies the requirement for "the second report", as
described in Section 6.0 of RFC 1264. In order to fulfill the
requirement, this report augments RFC 1773 and describes additional
knowledge and understanding gained in the time between when the
protocol was made a Draft Standard and when it was submitted for
McPherson & Patel Informational [Page 1]
RFC 4277 Experience with the BGP-4 Protocol January 2006
1. Introduction ................................................. 3
2. BGP-4 Overview ............................................... 3
2.1. A Border Gateway Protocol .............................. 3
3. Management Information Base (MIB) ............................ 3
4. Implementation Information ................................... 4
5. Operational Experience ....................................... 4
6. TCP Awareness ................................................ 5
7. Metrics ...................................................... 5
7.1. MULTI_EXIT_DISC (MED) .................................. 5
7.1.1. MEDs and Potatoes .............................. 6
7.1.2. Sending MEDs to BGP Peers ...................... 7
7.1.3. MED of Zero Versus No MED ...................... 7
7.1.4. MEDs and Temporal Route Selection .............. 7
8. Local Preference ............................................. 8
9. Internal BGP In Large Autonomous Systems ..................... 9
10. Internet Dynamics ............................................ 9
11. BGP Routing Information Bases (RIBs) ......................... 10
12. Update Packing ............................................... 10
13. Limit Rate Updates ........................................... 11
13.1. Consideration of TCP Characteristics ................... 11
14. Ordering of Path Attributes .................................. 12
15. AS_SET Sorting ............................................... 12
16. Control Over Version Negotiation ............................. 13
17. Security Considerations ...................................... 13
17.1. TCP MD5 Signature Option ............................... 13
17.2. BGP Over IPsec ......................................... 14
17.3. Miscellaneous .......................................... 14
18. PTOMAINE and GROW ............................................ 14
19. Internet Routing Registries (IRRs) ........................... 15
20. Regional Internet Registries (RIRs) and IRRs, A Bit
of History ................................................... 15
21. Acknowledgements ............................................. 16
22. References ................................................... 17
22.1. Normative References ................................... 17
22.2. Informative References ................................. 17
described in Section 6.0 of [RFC1264]. In order to fulfill the
requirement, this report augments [RFC1773] and describes additional
2. BGP-4 Overview
BGP is an inter-autonomous system routing protocol designed for
TCP/IP internets. The primary function of a BGP speaking system is
to exchange network reachability information with other BGP systems.
This network reachability information includes information on the
list of Autonomous Systems (ASes) that reachability information
traverses. This information is sufficient to construct a graph of AS
connectivity for this reachability, from which routing loops may be
pruned and some policy decisions, at the AS level, may be enforced.
The initial version of the BGP protocol was published in [RFC1105].
Since then, BGP Versions 2, 3, and 4 have been developed and are
specified in [RFC1163], [RFC1267], and [RFC1771], respectively.
Changes to BGP-4 after it went to Draft Standard [RFC1771] are listed
in Appendix N of [RFC4271].
2.1. A Border Gateway Protocol
BGP version 2 is defined in [RFC1163]. BGP version 3 is defined in
[RFC1267]. BGP version 4 is defined in [RFC1771] and [RFC4271].
Appendices A, B, C, and D of [RFC4271] provide summaries of the
changes between each iteration of the BGP specification.
3. Management Information Base (MIB)
The BGP-4 Management Information Base (MIB) has been published
[BGP-MIB]. The MIB was updated from previous versions, which are
documented in [RFC1657] and [RFC1269], respectively.
Apart from a few system variables, the BGP MIB is broken into two
tables: the BGP Peer Table and the BGP Received Path Attribute Table.
The Peer Table reflects information about BGP peer connections, such
as their state and current activity. The Received Path Attribute
Table contains all attributes received from all peers before local
routing policy has been applied. The actual attributes used in
determining a route are a subset of the received attribute table.
4. Implementation Information
There are numerous independent interoperable implementations of BGP
currently available. Although the previous version of this report
provided an overview of the implementations currently used in the
operational Internet, at that time it has been suggested that a
separate BGP Implementation Report [RFC4276] be generated.
It should be noted that implementation experience with Cisco's BGP-4
implementation was documented as part of [RFC1656].
For all additional implementation information please reference
5. Operational Experience
This section discusses operational experience with BGP and BGP-4.
BGP has been used in the production environment since 1989; BGP-4 has
been used since 1993. Production use of BGP includes utilization of
all significant features of the protocol. The present production
environment, where BGP is used as the inter-autonomous system routing
protocol, is highly heterogeneous. In terms of link bandwidth, it
varies from 56 Kbps to 10 Gbps. In terms of the actual routers that
run BGP, they range from relatively slow performance, general purpose
CPUs to very high performance RISC network processors, and include
both special purpose routers and the general purpose workstations
that run various UNIX derivatives and other operating systems.
In terms of the actual topologies, it varies from very sparse to
quite dense. The requirement for full-mesh IBGP topologies has been
largely remedied by BGP Route Reflection, Autonomous System
Confederations for BGP, and often some mix of the two. BGP Route
Reflection was initially defined in [RFC1966] and was updated in
[RFC2796]. Autonomous System Confederations for BGP were initially
defined in [RFC1965] and were updated in [RFC3065].
At the time of this writing, BGP-4 is used as an inter-autonomous
system routing protocol between all Internet-attached autonomous
systems, with nearly 21k active autonomous systems in the global
Internet routing table.
BGP is used both for the exchange of routing information between a
transit and a stub autonomous system, and for the exchange of routing
information between multiple transit autonomous systems. There is no
protocol distinction between sites historically considered
"backbones" versus "regional" or "edge" networks.
The full set of exterior routes carried by BGP is well over 170,000
aggregate entries, representing several times that number of
connected networks. The number of active paths in some service
provider core routers exceeds 2.5 million. Native AS path lengths
are as long as 10 for some routes, and "padded" path lengths of 25 or
more autonomous systems exist.
6. TCP Awareness
BGP employs TCP [RFC793] as it's Transport Layer protocol. As such,
all characteristics inherent to TCP are inherited by BGP.
For example, due to TCP's behavior, bandwidth capabilities may not be
realized because of TCP's slow start algorithms and slow-start
restarts of connections, etc.
7. Metrics
This section discusses different metrics used within the BGP
protocol. BGP has a separate metric parameter for IBGP and EBGP.
This allows policy-based metrics to overwrite the distance-based
metrics; this allows each autonomous system to define its independent
policies in Intra-AS, as well as Inter-AS. BGP Multi Exit
Discriminator (MED) is used as a metric by EBGP peers (i.e., inter-
domain), while Local Preference (LOCAL_PREF) is used by IBGP peers
(i.e., intra-domain).
7.1. MULTI_EXIT_DISC (MED)
BGP version 4 re-defined the old INTER-AS metric as a MULTI_EXIT_DISC
(MED). This value may be used in the tie-breaking process when
selecting a preferred path to a given address space, and provides BGP
speakers with the capability of conveying the optimal entry point
into the local AS to a peer AS.
Although the MED was meant to only be used when comparing paths
received from different external peers in the same AS, many
implementations provide the capability to compare MEDs between
different autonomous systems.
Though this may seem a fine idea for some configurations, care must
be taken when comparing MEDs of different autonomous systems. BGP
speakers often derive MED values by obtaining the IGP metric
associated with reaching a given BGP NEXT_HOP within the local AS.
This allows MEDs to reasonably reflect IGP topologies when
advertising routes to peers. While this is fine when comparing MEDs
of multiple paths learned from a single adjacent AS, it can result in
potentially bad decisions when comparing MEDs of different autonomous
systems. This is most typically the case when the autonomous systems
use different mechanisms to derive IGP metrics, BGP MEDs, or perhaps
even use different IGP protocols with vastly contrasting metric
spaces.
Another MED deployment consideration involves the impact of the
aggregation of BGP routing information on MEDs. Aggregates are often
generated from multiple locations in an AS to accommodate stability,
redundancy, and other network design goals. When MEDs are derived
from IGP metrics associated with said aggregates, the MED value
advertised to peers can result in very suboptimal routing.
The MED was purposely designed to be a "weak" metric that would only
be used late in the best-path decision process. The BGP working
group was concerned that any metric specified by a remote operator
would only affect routing in a local AS if no other preference was
specified. A paramount goal of the design of the MED was to ensure
that peers could not "shed" or "absorb" traffic for networks they
7.1.1. MEDs and Potatoes
Where traffic flows between a pair of destinations, each is connected
to two transit networks, each of the transit networks has the choice
of sending the traffic to the peering closest to another transit
provider or passing traffic to the peering that advertises the least
cost through the other provider. The former method is called "hot
potato routing" because, like a hot potato held in bare hands,
whoever has it tries to get rid of it quickly. Hot potato routing is
accomplished by not passing the EBGP-learned MED into the IBGP. This
minimizes transit traffic for the provider routing the traffic. Far
less common is "cold potato routing", where the transit provider uses
its own transit capacity to get the traffic to the point in the
adjacent transit provider advertised as being closest to the
destination. Cold potato routing is accomplished by passing the
EBGP-learned MED into IBGP.
If one transit provider uses hot potato routing and another uses cold
potato routing, traffic between the two tends to be symmetric.
Depending on the business relationships, if one provider has more
capacity or a significantly less congested transit network, then that
provider may use cold potato routing. The NSF-funded NSFNET backbone
and NSF-funded regional networks are examples of widespread use of
cold potato routing in the mid 1990s.
In some cases, a provider may use hot potato routing for some
destinations for a given peer AS, and cold potato routing for others.
The different treatment of commercial and research traffic in the
NSFNET in the mid 1990s is an example of this. However, this might
best be described as 'mashed potato routing', a term that reflects
the complexity of router configurations in use at the time.
Seemingly more intuitive references, which fall outside the vegetable
kingdom, refer to cold potato routing as "best exit routing", and hot
potato routing as "closest exit routing".
7.1.2. Sending MEDs to BGP Peers
[RFC4271] allows MEDs received from any EBGP peers by a BGP speaker
to be passed to its IBGP peers. Although advertising MEDs to IBGP
peers is not a required behavior, it is a common default. MEDs
received from EBGP peers by a BGP speaker SHOULD NOT be sent to other
EBGP peers.
Note that many implementations provide a mechanism to derive MED
values from IGP metrics to allow BGP MED information to reflect the
IGP topologies and metrics of the network when propagating
information to adjacent autonomous systems.
7.1.3. MED of Zero Versus No MED
[RFC4271] requires an implementation to provide a mechanism that
allows MED to be removed. Previously, implementations did not
consider a missing MED value the same as a MED of zero. [RFC4271]
now requires that no MED value be equal to zero.
Note that many implementations provide a mechanism to explicitly
define a missing MED value as "worst", or less preferable than zero
or larger values.
7.1.4. MEDs and Temporal Route Selection
Some implementations have hooks to apply temporal behavior in MED-
based best path selection. That is, all things being equal up to MED
consideration, preference would be applied to the "oldest" path,
without preference for the lower MED value. The reasoning for this
is that "older" paths are presumably more stable, and thus
preferable. However, temporal behavior in route selection results in
non-deterministic behavior, and as such, may often be undesirable.
8. Local Preference
The LOCAL_PREF attribute was added to enable a network operator to
easily configure a policy that overrides the standard best path
determination mechanism without independently configuring local
preference policy on each router.
One shortcoming in the BGP-4 specification was the suggestion that a
default value of LOCAL_PREF be assumed if none was provided.
Defaults of zero or the maximum value each have range limitations, so
a common default would aid in the interoperation of multi-vendor
routers in the same AS (since LOCAL_PREF is a local administration
attribute, there is no interoperability drawback across AS
boundaries).
[RFC4271] requires that LOCAL_PREF be sent to IBGP Peers and not to
EBGP Peers. Although no default value for LOCAL_PREF is defined, the
common default value is 100.
Another area where exploration is required is a method whereby an
originating AS may influence the best path selection process. For
example, a dual-connected site may select one AS as a primary transit
service provider and have one as a backup.
/---- transit B ----\
end-customer transit A----
/---- transit C ----\
In a topology where the two transit service providers connect to a
third provider, the real decision is performed by the third provider.
There is no mechanism to indicate a preference should the third
provider wish to respect that preference.
A general purpose suggestion has been the possibility of carrying an
optional vector, corresponding to the AS_PATH, where each transit AS
may indicate a preference value for a given route. Cooperating
autonomous systems may then choose traffic based upon comparison of
"interesting" portions of this vector, according to routing policy.
While protecting a given autonomous systems routing policy is of
paramount concern, avoiding extensive hand configuration of routing
policies needs to be examined more carefully in future BGP-like
9. Internal BGP In Large Autonomous Systems
While not strictly a protocol issue, another concern has been raised
by network operators who need to maintain autonomous systems with a
large number of peers. Each speaker peering with an external router
is responsible for propagating reachability and path information to
all other transit and border routers within that AS. This is
typically done by establishing internal BGP connections to all
transit and border routers in the local AS.
Note that the number of BGP peers that can be fully meshed depends on
a number of factors, including the number of prefixes in the routing
system, the number of unique paths, stability of the system, and,
perhaps most importantly, implementation efficiency. As a result,
although it's difficult to define "a large number of peers", there is
always some practical limit.
In a large AS, this leads to a full mesh of TCP connections
(n * (n-1)) and some method of configuring and maintaining those
connections. BGP does not specify how this information is to be
propagated. Therefore, alternatives, such as injecting BGP routing
information into the local IGP, have been attempted, but turned out
to be non-practical alternatives (to say the least).
To alleviate the need for "full mesh" IBGP, several alternatives have
been defined, including BGP Route Reflection [RFC2796] and AS
Confederations for BGP [RFC3065].
10. Internet Dynamics
As discussed in [RFC4274], the driving force in CPU and bandwidth
utilization is the dynamic nature of routing in the Internet. As the
Internet has grown, the frequency of route changes per second has
increased.
We automatically get some level of damping when more specific NLRI is
aggregated into larger blocks; however, this is not sufficient. In
Appendix F of [RFC4271], there are descriptions of damping techniques
that should be applied to advertisements. In future specifications
of BGP-like protocols, damping methods should be considered for
mandatory inclusion in compliant implementations.
BGP Route Flap Damping is defined in [RFC2439]. BGP Route Flap
Damping defines a mechanism to help reduce the amount of routing
information passed between BGP peers, which reduces the load on these
peers without adversely affecting route convergence time for
relatively stable routes.
None of the current implementations of BGP Route Flap Damping store
route history by unique NRLI or AS Path, although RFC 2439 lists this
as mandatory. A potential result of failure to consider each AS Path
separately is an overly aggressive suppression of destinations in a
densely meshed network, with the most severe consequence being
suppression of a destination after a single failure. Because the top
tier autonomous systems in the Internet are densely meshed, these
adverse consequences are observed.
Route changes are announced using BGP UPDATE messages. The greatest
overhead in advertising UPDATE messages happens whenever route
changes to be announced are inefficiently packed. Announcing routing
changes that share common attributes in a single BGP UPDATE message
helps save considerable bandwidth and reduces processing overhead, as
discussed in Section 12, Update Packing.
Persistent BGP errors may cause BGP peers to flap persistently if
peer dampening is not implemented, resulting in significant CPU
utilization. Implementors may find it useful to implement peer
dampening to avoid such persistent peer flapping [RFC4271].
11. BGP Routing Information Bases (RIBs)
[RFC4271] states "Any local policy which results in routes being
added to an Adj-RIB-Out without also being added to the local BGP
speaker's forwarding table, is outside the scope of this document".
However, several well-known implementations do not confirm that
Loc-RIB entries were used to populate the forwarding table before
installing them in the Adj-RIB-Out. The most common occurrence of
this is when routes for a given prefix are presented by more than one
protocol, and the preferences for the BGP-learned route is lower than
that of another protocol. As such, the route learned via the other
protocol is used to populate the forwarding table.
It may be desirable for an implementation to provide a knob that
permits advertisement of "inactive" BGP routes.
It may be also desirable for an implementation to provide a knob that
allows a BGP speaker to advertise BGP routes that were not selected
in the decision process.
12. Update Packing
Multiple unfeasible routes can be advertised in a single BGP Update
message. In addition, one or more feasible routes can be advertised
in a single Update message, as long as all prefixes share a common
attribute set.
McPherson & Patel Informational [Page 10]
The BGP4 protocol permits advertisement of multiple prefixes with a
common set of path attributes in a single update message, which is
commonly referred to as "update packing". When possible, update
packing is recommended, as it provides a mechanism for more efficient
behavior in a number of areas, including:
o Reduction in system overhead due to generation or receipt of
fewer Update messages.
o Reduction in network overhead as a result of less packets and
lower bandwidth consumption.
o Reduction in frequency of processing path attributes and looking
for matching sets in the AS_PATH database (if you have one).
Consistent ordering of the path attributes allows for ease of
matching in the database, as different representations of the
same data do not exist.
The BGP protocol suggests that withdrawal information should be
packed in the beginning of an Update message, followed by information
about reachable routes in a single UPDATE message. This helps
alleviate excessive route flapping in BGP.
13. Limit Rate Updates
The BGP protocol defines different mechanisms to rate limit Update
advertisement. The BGP protocol defines a
MinRouteAdvertisementInterval parameter that determines the minimum
time that must elapse between the advertisement of routes to a
particular destination from a single BGP speaker. This value is set
on a per-BGP-peer basis.
Because BGP relies on TCP as the Transport protocol, TCP can prevent
transmission of data due to empty windows. As a result, multiple
updates may be spaced closer together than was originally queued.
Although it is not common, implementations should be aware of this
occurrence.
13.1. Consideration of TCP Characteristics
If either a TCP receiver is processing input more slowly than the
sender, or if the TCP connection rate is the limiting factor, a form
of backpressure is observed by the TCP sending application. When the
TCP buffer fills, the sending application will either block on the
write or receive an error on the write. In early implementations or
naive new implementations, setting options to block on the write or
setting options for non-blocking writes are common errors. Such
implementations treat full buffer related errors as fatal.
Having recognized that full write buffers are to be expected,
additional implementation pitfalls exist. The application should not
attempt to store the TCP stream within the application itself. If
the receiver or the TCP connection is persistently slow, then the
buffer can grow until memory is exhausted. A BGP implementation is
required to send changes to all peers for which the TCP connection is
not blocked, and is required to send those changes to the remaining
peers when the connection becomes unblocked.
If the preferred route for a given NLRI changes multiple times while
writes to one or more peers are blocked, only the most recent best
route needs to be sent. In this way, BGP is work conserving
[RFC4274]. In cases of extremely high route change, a higher volume
of route change is sent to those peers that are able to process it
more quickly; a lower volume of route change is sent to those peers
that are not able to process the changes as quickly.
For implementations that handle differing peer capacities to absorb
route change well, if the majority of route change is contributed by
a subset of unstable NRLI, the only impact on relatively stable NRLI
that makes an isolated route change is a slower convergence, for
which convergence time remains bounded, regardless of the amount of
instability.
14. Ordering of Path Attributes
The BGP protocol suggests that BGP speakers sending multiple prefixes
per an UPDATE message sort and order path attributes according to
Type Codes. This would help their peers quickly identify sets of
attributes from different update messages that are semantically
Implementers may find it useful to order path attributes according to
Type Code, such that sets of attributes with identical semantics can
be more quickly identified.
15. AS_SET Sorting
AS_SETs are commonly used in BGP route aggregation. They reduce the
size of AS_PATH information by listing AS numbers only once,
regardless of the number of times it might appear in the process of
aggregation. AS_SETs are usually sorted in increasing order to
facilitate efficient lookups of AS numbers within them. This
optimization is optional.
16. Control Over Version Negotiation
Because pre-BGP-4 route aggregation can't be supported by earlier
versions of BGP, an implementation that supports versions in addition
to BGP-4 should provide the version support on a per-peer basis. At
the time of this writing, all BGP speakers on the Internet are
thought to be running BGP version 4.
17. Security Considerations
BGP provides a flexible and extendable mechanism for authentication
and security. The mechanism allows support for schemes with various
degrees of complexity. BGP sessions are authenticated based on the
IP address of a peer. In addition, all BGP sessions are
authenticated based on the autonomous system number advertised by a
peer.
Because BGP runs over TCP and IP, BGP's authentication scheme may be
augmented by any authentication or security mechanism provided by
either TCP or IP.
17.1. TCP MD5 Signature Option
[RFC2385] defines a way in which the TCP MD5 signature option can be
used to validate information transmitted between two peers. This
method prevents a third party from injecting information (e.g., a TCP
Reset) into the datastream, or modifying the routing information
carried between two BGP peers.
At the moment, TCP MD5 is not ubiquitously deployed, especially in
inter-domain scenarios, largely because of key distribution issues.
Most key distribution mechanisms are considered to be too "heavy" at
Many have naively assumed that an attacker must correctly guess the
exact TCP sequence number (along with the source and destination
ports and IP addresses) to inject a data segment or reset a TCP
transport connection between two BGP peers. However, recent
observation and open discussion show that the malicious data only
needs to fall within the TCP receive window, which may be quite
large, thereby significantly lowering the complexity of such an
attack.
As such, it is recommended that the MD5 TCP Signature Option be
employed to protect BGP from session resets and malicious data
injection.
17.2. BGP Over IPsec
BGP can run over IPsec, either in a tunnel or in transport mode,
where the TCP portion of the IP packet is encrypted. This not only
prevents random insertion of information into the data stream between
two BGP peers, but also prevents an attacker from learning the data
being exchanged between the peers.
However, IPsec does offer several options for exchanging session
keys, which may be useful on inter-domain configurations. These
options are being explored in many deployments, although no
definitive solution has been reached on the issue of key exchange for
BGP in IPsec.
Because BGP runs over TCP and IP, it should be noted that BGP is
vulnerable to the same denial of service and authentication attacks
that are present in any TCP based protocol.
17.3. Miscellaneous
Another routing protocol issue is providing evidence of the validity
and authority of routing information carried within the routing
system. This is currently the focus of several efforts, including
efforts to define threats that can be used against this routing
information in BGP [BGPATTACK], and efforts to develop a means of
providing validation and authority for routing information carried
within BGP [SBGP] [soBGP].
In addition, the Routing Protocol Security Requirements (RPSEC)
working group has been chartered, within the Routing Area of the
IETF, to discuss and assist in addressing issues surrounding routing
protocol security. Within RPSEC, this work is intended to result in
feedback to BGP4 and future protocol enhancements.
18. PTOMAINE and GROW
The Prefix Taxonomy (PTOMAINE) working group, recently replaced by
the Global Routing Operations (GROW) working group, is chartered to
consider and measure the problem of routing table growth, the effects
of the interactions between interior and exterior routing protocols,
and the effect of address allocation policies and practices on the
global routing system. Finally, where appropriate, GROW will also
document the operational aspects of measurement, policy, security,
and VPN infrastructures.
GROW is currently studying the effects of route aggregation, and also
the inability to aggregate over multiple provider boundaries due to
inadequate provider coordination.
Within GROW, this work is intended to result in feedback to BGPv4 and
future protocol enhancements.
19. Internet Routing Registries (IRRs)
Many organizations register their routing policy and prefix
origination in the various distributed databases of the Internet
Routing Registry. These databases provide access to information
using the RPSL language, as defined in [RFC2622]. While registered
information may be maintained and correct for certain providers, the
lack of timely or correct data in the various IRR databases has
prevented wide spread use of this resource.
20. Regional Internet Registries (RIRs) and IRRs, A Bit of History
The NSFNET program used EGP, and then BGP, to provide external
routing information. It was the NSF policy of offering different
prices and providing different levels of support to the Research and
Education (RE) and the Commercial (CO) networks that led to BGP's
initial policy requirements. In addition to being charged more, CO
networks were not able to use the NSFNET backbone to reach other CO
networks. The rationale for higher prices was that commercial users
of the NSFNET within the business and research entities should
subsidize the RE community. Recognition that the Internet was
evolving away from a hierarchical network to a mesh of peers led to
changes away from EGP and BGP-1 that eliminated any assumptions of
hierarchy.
Enforcement of NSF policy was accomplished through maintenance of the
NSF Policy Routing Database (PRDB). The PRDB not only contained each
networks designation as CO or RE, but also contained a list of the
preferred exit points to the NSFNET to reach each network. This was
the basis for setting what would later be called BGP LOCAL_PREF on
the NSFNET. Tools provided with the PRDB generated complete router
configurations for the NSFNET.
Use of the PRDB had the fortunate consequence of greatly improving
reliability of the NSFNET, relative to peer networks of the time.
PRDB offered more optimal routing for those networks that were
sufficiently knowledgeable and willing to keep their entries current.
With the decommission of the NSFNET Backbone Network Service in 1995,
it was recognized that the PRDB should be made less single provider
centric, and its legacy contents, plus any further updates, should be
made available to any provider willing to make use of it. The
European networking community had long seen the PRDB as too US-
centric. Through Reseaux IP Europeens (RIPE), the Europeans created
an open format in RIPE-181 and maintained an open database used for
address and AS registry more than policy. The initial conversion of
the PRDB was to RIPE-181 format, and tools were converted to make use
of this format. The collection of databases was termed the Internet
Routing Registry (IRR), with the RIPE database and US NSF-funded
Routing Arbitrator (RA) being the initial components of the IRR.
A need to extend RIPE-181 was recognized and RIPE agreed to allow the
extensions to be defined within the IETF in the RPS WG, resulting in
the RPSL language. Other work products of the RPS WG provided an
authentication framework and a means to widely distribute the
database in a controlled manner and synchronize the many
repositories. Freely available tools were provided, primarily by
RIPE, Merit, and ISI, the most comprehensive set from ISI. The
efforts of the IRR participants has been severely hampered by
providers unwilling to keep information in the IRR up to date. The
larger of these providers have been vocal, claiming that the database
entry, simple as it may be, is an administrative burden, and some
acknowledge that doing so provides an advantage to competitors that
use the IRR. The result has been an erosion of the usefulness of the
IRR and an increase in vulnerability of the Internet to routing based
attacks or accidental injection of faulty routing information.
There have been a number of cases in which accidental disruption of
Internet routing was avoided by providers using the IRR, but this was
highly detrimental to non-users. Filters have been forced to provide
less complete coverage because of the erosion of the IRR; these types
of disruptions continue to occur infrequently, but have an
increasingly widespread impact.
21. Acknowledgements
We would like to thank Paul Traina and Yakov Rekhter for authoring
previous versions of this document and providing valuable input on
this update. We would also like to acknowledge Curtis Villamizar for
providing both text and thorough reviews. Thanks to Russ White,
Jeffrey Haas, Sean Mentzer, Mitchell Erblich, and Jude Ballard for
supplying their usual keen eyes.
Finally, we'd like to think the IDR WG for general and specific input
that contributed to this document.
22.1. Normative References
[RFC1966] Bates, T. and R. Chandra, "BGP Route Reflection An
alternative to full mesh IBGP", RFC 1966, June 1996.
[RFC2385] Heffernan, A., "Protection of BGP Sessions via the TCP
MD5 Signature Option", RFC 2385, August 1998.
[RFC2439] Villamizar, C., Chandra, R., and R. Govindan, "BGP Route
Flap Damping", RFC 2439, November 1998.
[RFC2796] Bates, T., Chandra, R., and E. Chen, "BGP Route
Reflection - An Alternative to Full Mesh IBGP", RFC 2796,
[RFC3065] Traina, P., McPherson, D., and J. Scudder, "Autonomous
System Confederations for BGP", RFC 3065, February 2001.
[RFC4274] Meyer, D. and K. Patel, "BGP-4 Protocol Analysis", RFC
[RFC4276] Hares, S. and A. Retana, "BGP 4 Implementation Report",
[RFC4271] Rekhter, Y., Li, T., and S. Hares, Eds., "A Border
Gateway Protocol 4 (BGP-4)", RFC 4271, January 2006.
[RFC1657] Willis, S., Burruss, J., Chu, J., "Definitions of Managed
Objects for the Fourth Version of the Border Gateway
Protocol (BGP-4) using SMIv2", RFC 1657, July 1994.
[RFC793] Postel, J., "Transmission Control Protocol", STD 7, RFC
793, September 1981.
22.2. Informative References
[RFC1105] Lougheed, K. and Y. Rekhter, "Border Gateway Protocol
(BGP)", RFC 1105, June 1989.
[RFC1264] Hinden, R., "Internet Engineering Task Force Internet
Routing Protocol Standardization Criteria", RFC 1264,
[RFC1267] Lougheed, K. and Y. Rekhter, "Border Gateway Protocol 3
(BGP-3)", RFC 1267, October 1991.
[RFC1269] Willis, S. and J. Burruss, "Definitions of Managed
Objects for the Border Gateway Protocol: Version 3", RFC
1269, October 1991.
[RFC1656] Traina, P., "BGP-4 Protocol Document Roadmap and
Implementation Experience", RFC 1656, July 1994.
[RFC1771] Rekhter, Y. and T. Li, "A Border Gateway Protocol 4
(BGP-4)", RFC 1771, March 1995.
[RFC1773] Traina, P., "Experience with the BGP-4 protocol", RFC
1773, March 1995.
[RFC1965] Traina, P., "Autonomous System Confederations for BGP",
[RFC2622] Alaettinoglu, C., Villamizar, C., Gerich, E., Kessens,
D., Meyer, D., Bates, T., Karrenberg, D., and M.
Terpstra, "Routing Policy Specification Language (RPSL)",
[BGPATTACK] Convery, C., "An Attack Tree for the Border Gateway
Protocol", Work in Progress.
[SBGP] "Secure BGP", Work in Progress.
[soBGP] "Secure Origin BGP", Work in Progress.
Danny McPherson
EMail: danny@arbor.net
Keyur Patel
EMail: keyupate@cisco.com
Funding for the RFC Editor function is provided by the IETF
Administrative Support Activity (IASA).
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The New Beat Breakfast
Mid-Days
The Beat Mix @ 6
The Beat @ Night
Throwback Sundays
Throwbacks @ 2p
The Beat Top 25 LIVE
New Music Poll
Turn It Up Saturdays
BEAT Artist Days!
Club 9-1-5
Beat Elite
Prize Pick-Up Info.
Beat Street Team
Beat Cares
Beat Cares Submissions
Christmas in Cambridge
Alberta premier hits campaign trail for Conservative Leader Andrew Scheer
Staff The Canadian Press
Sept. 28: Alberta Premier Jason Kenney said on Sept. 28 that Conservative Leader Andrew Scheer is a “great friend” and that he supports his platform. Kenney said he would do “everything he could” to get Scheer elected.
One of the shiniest stars in Canada’s conservative constellation hits the campaign trail this weekend in support of party leader Andrew Scheer.
Alberta Premier Jason Kenney, once touted as the leader-in-waiting for the federal Conservative party, will work the circuit in Ottawa and the Toronto area in a bid to boost Scheer’s profile.
“Andrew Scheer has been a close personal friend of mine for 20 years,” Kenney said Friday at an event in the riding of Nepean.
“And I just want to go out and vouch for him as a man of integrity.”
Kenney will travel from Ottawa to the Greater Toronto Area, where he says he’ll campaign with people who are long-time personal friends.
It’s in the so-called “905,” the suburban belt around Toronto labelled for its area code, where the former federal cabinet minister was instrumental in growing the party’s electoral base.
His efforts particularly in ethnic communities are often cited as a reason the Conservatives became a politically competitive force in the highly diverse ridings, and for helping them win their first — and only — majority government in 2011.
One of the ridings they won that year was Willowdale, where visible minorities are 67 per cent of the population. It had been a Liberal stronghold for years but the Conservatives managed to eke out a win.
Canada election — Willowdale
The Conservative reputation in many diverse ridings took a hit in 2015, with controversial promises like the “barbaric cultural practices” hotline, a debate over face coverings and concerns over refugee policy.
The Tories lost Willowdale and several others like it, and hope to regain them this time around. Willowdale will be one of Kenney’s stops on his Ontario tour this weekend.
In the federal election campaign, Alberta’s concerns have become wedge issues
Kenney said he still sees alignment between the values of many new Canadians and the Conservatives.
“Many new Canadians come from broken regimes where there is abuse of authority, they want democratic values and respect for families and law and order, which Mr. Scheer is talking about today,” he said.
Scheer’s announcement Friday was on gun crime, promising to get Canada’s border agency to do more to try to stop illegal guns from crossing into Canada from the United States.
Kenney was among the people whose names were immediately floated to lead the party after it lost government in 2015 and then-leader Stephen Harper stepped down.
But he decided to enter provincial politics instead, first uniting the conservative movement in Alberta and then running and winning the premier’s job earlier this year.
He’s rare among the country’s conservative leaders for being willing to publicly go to bat for his federal political brother; other conservatives, such as Saskatchewan’s Scott Moe, have declined to issue an endorsement.
‘I’m busy governing’ — Doug Ford explains why he isn’t campaigning for Scheer
Kenney also hits Ontario at a time when that province’s conservative premier, Doug Ford, is perceived to be doing damage to the brand with unpopular policies and a looming school strike.
Kenney said he didn’t want to weigh in on those issues, saying while he is campaigning to support Scheer personally, he’s also there representing Alberta.
“I’m just here as a leader of the third-largest economy in Canada to say we desperately need a new federal government.”
Jonas Brothers (and their wives) recreate classic movies in 'What a Man Gotta Do'
So long, Fox: Disney renames, rebrands Fox production companies
Posthumous Mac Miller album 'Circles' released
'Modern Family' fans surprised by character's sudden death
How one website became the voice for millennial Muslim women
Eminem drops surprise album, receives backlash for Manchester bombing mention
Preschoolers make hot cocoa, raise $10K for classmate battling brain cancer
New emails, evidence revealed against Lori Loughlin and husband
Teams of Use
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Bay Area shoppers turn out en masse
Thousands of shoppers were out before sunrise. Many were desperate for a good deal in this tough economy. All things indicate that people are spending, if the price is right.
The battle for bargains started early. At 5 a.m. at Walmart in Oakland shoppers raced in by the hundreds.
"It was crazy it was real crazy. They were pushing and shoving and running around," recalled Trina Newsome.
Many shoppers camped outside all night for a chance to be one of the first inside.
"They were trying to knock my babies over. Just pushing. People don't have manners," said Christina Thomas, describing the scene.
The deals seemed to be driving the crowds.
Walmart reports stores in Antioch, Richmond and Oakland had two times more shoppers waiting when doors opened at 5 a.m. than Black Friday last year.
"They are definitely here this morning to take advantage of those great prices," said Walmart spokesperson Amelia Neufeld.
Retailers say it's still too early to predict how the holiday shopping season will play out. But, shoppers say with this down economy, they are on the hunt for deals more than ever"
Some shoppers said they held off spending until Black Friday.
"They have TV's for $400 dollars. You can't beat that," said Alicia Flood.
Those televisions were the hot ticket item at Walmart. In just seconds shoppers swarmed the electronics department. 50-inch HDTV flatscreens sold for $598 and 42-inch LCDs sold for $498.
Shopper Raynetta Lewis got to the store early for those deals.
"A 50-inch flat screen and a 42-inch flat screen… Wonderful deal. It was worth it to be out here at 1 o'clock in the morning," she said.
Deals like that on TV's were over early, an early reward for excited but sleepy shoppers.
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“Like Batman”, The Status of Hijab in the West
Sara Hassanien
In her rather provocative article Setting Themselves Apart, Dutch Somalian journalist Hirsi Ali says that women who decide to wear the hijab in Western countries look “like Batman”.
And sadly enough, many secular Westerners still believe that the veil manifests division of the sexes, submission of women and sometimes radicalism. Above all, it prevents Muslim women from integrating into the West.
Media vs. the Veil
The role played by the media in intensifying hate towards the veil and all what it represents cannot be underestimated.
In many Hollywood productions, the same stereotypes are presented: veiled women can be hostile and dangerous- especially if their veil’s color is black, they are mostly Arabic speakers, and their husbands have them wrapped around their fingers.
Also in photographs of the Middle East, women are six times more likely to be portrayed as victims than are men.
In politics, some western governments are equally not very welcoming of religious clothing in general, and the hijab in particular.
The so-called “Quebec values charter” introduced in 2013 by a Parti Quebecois government has sought to ban religious clothing at public work places.
This move is taking the footsteps of France back in 2004, when in the name of secularism, people had to ditch the cross, turban, hijab, and kippah, just to name a few.
At work and public spheres, many Muslim women have reported that they felt they were treated differently, if not culturally reduced to fit into the molds made by Western media.
Some have felt burdened by being held accountable for all that is going on in the Islamic world just because of the scarf on their heads, and have taken it off to liberate themselves from any judgments.
Others are struggling with social anxiety when exposed to unfamiliar situations with non-Muslims, and take chances trying to explain themselves to them.
And some other women huddle up in their own ethnic community bubbles. But there are a few who have chosen to speak up, refuse the status quo, and go beyond the boundaries that are ceaselessly imposed by Western media run by dominant groups. Most importantly, they are doing it with the veil on their heads.
Challenging Stereotypes
Mainstream media and political parties seem oblivious to the fact that many Muslim women hold PhDs and are successful and productive members of western societies in all walks of life, the educational, artistic, and social.
Women like Mona Haidar, Haifa Besisso and Dalia Mogahed are speaking up about this, and are challenging existing stereotypes about Arab Muslim women.
In her book Who Speaks for Islam, Mogahed addresses the silenced majority of Muslims. With the random sampling method of Gallup’s World Poll, she surveyed a sample representing more than 90% of the world’s 1.3 billion Muslims making this the largest, most comprehensive study of contemporary Muslims ever done.
Among the insights produced by this poll was that Muslim women want equal rights in their societies, and that Muslims around the world say that the one thing the West can do to improve relations with their societies is to moderate their views toward Muslims and respect Islam and whatever represents it, including the veil.
Here are some tips for veiled women who feel challenged or vulnerable and want to change this present scenario we are living in:
Improve Your Languages
The more languages you can speak, especially English, the less the barriers you’ll have with the society you choose to live in. You will feel included, and you’ll be better able to speak about Islam in a way that defies any stereotypes. Above all, you will get a better job, which can also make you feel better represented.
Improve Your Credentials
Pursue a higher degree, preferably at a western university. Knowledge is power, and it will definitely help you feel better represented, more empowered and better able to contribute to society. This will also crush any stereotypes about Muslim women being submissive and only good for home.
Be Ready For The Debate
The debates I had with my American friends after 9/11 blew my mind. In Texas, my neighbors wanted to hold a debate about the status of Jesus Christ in the Bible versus the Quran. But what saddened me was the fact that I wasn’t ready for such debates. I realized that a degree or even free special classes in Islamic Studies are indispensable for Muslims in the west.
Check out www.alatrojah.com or www.islamiconlineuniversities.com. Many western universities also offer degrees in Islamic studies.
Being veiled does not necessarily mean we shouldn’t be well groomed or look scruffy. Pick your colors carefully, change the way you wrap the veil, use accessories, and garments that suit your body shape. Change your body posture and maintain your body weight and shape.
What is everyone talking about? Step out of your comfort zone and get ahead of the game. Read newspapers, watch the news, borrow more books from the library and attend workshops. Volunteer. Act as one of the members of this community, not an outsider. Take your place.
Show a Peaceful Yet Dignified Attitude
Accept nothing but respect and fair treatment. Take an action if treated otherwise. The veil should by no means be anyone’s excuse to treat you any less. Islam teaches us compassion, but also pride and dignity.
Avoid Sounding Pushy About Islam
This is a trap many Muslims fall into. Do not volunteer to talk about Islam or your religious practices unless the listener shows some interest first. Such discussions have special protocols. If you’ll do so, make sure that you clarify and simplify what you are talking about. Remember this is a person who has never grown up in an Islamic culture.
Invest in Some Publicity Work
For those who have charisma, why not use it to better represent Muslims? You can pursue politics as a career, or radio broadcasting and journalism. You can simply set up your own YouTube channel and upload videos about special issues pertaining to Muslims.
Avoid Living In Ghettos Or Isolated Islamic Communities
It is much better to face your fears rather than hide from them. In addition, the research shows that when people seek people from their homelands, they start to feel more resentful towards the West and they start to act in a biased way.
If nearly one quarter of Americans say they would not want a Muslim as a neighbor, the best thing to do is be their neighbors and challenge their stereotypes.
Challenge Misogynistic Attitudes and Show them the Way out of Your Life
The Quran explicitly addresses women as well as men and emphasizes the absolute moral and spiritual equality of the sexes, unlike other scriptures.
However, male domination has been trying to hijack Islam for so long, and we must be aware of this. Your Islamic studies will also come in to help here. It might also be a good idea to encourage your spouse, brother and father to improve their Islamic knowledge and check the source of any Islamic teaching.
Whatever Anyone Thinks of you is THEIR Problem, Not YOURS:
Read self-help books about self-esteem, how to deal with criticism and judgment. Learn to avoid negative people. And always remember, you are not to be blamed for all Muslims’ mistakes or the theories of political Islam or the clash between Islam and the West just because you are wearing the veil. Whoever thinks otherwise has got a serious issue. I wish there were doctors for that!
Finally, I wish to bring Hirsi Ali’s attention to the fact that Batman “is the hero Gotham deserves” because he epitomizes the ideals direly needed by his society. Let me put it right: Muslim women who veil in Western societies are heroes, just “like Batman”.
Women hijab veil stereotypes hijab in the west
About Sara Hassanien
Sara Hassanien is a TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) professional, freelance editor, translator and CABC (Canada Arabic Broadcast Corporation) radio announcer. She is originally from Egypt, and lives in Montreal, Canada.
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Celebrity, Trends
My Burberry perfume: a classic continues
Fragrances takes inspiration from the iconic Burberry trench coat.
We love a good creation story. Especially when we get to learn the why behind a perfume’s pedigree. Some are more obvious than others. For instance, Burberry’s decision to create a fragrance based on its iconic trench coat makes sense. A brand that has become synonymous with a product, the way Burberry has set the gold standard for trench coats, deserves a little fragrant celebration—especially as we enter into the fall coat season.
Want to get a glimpse into how this fashion item inspired a perfume? Check out the video below.
The Perfume Bottle
The My Burberry flask is a solid glass rectangle; the eau a golden-beige tint to echo the trench that is its inspiration. The top is a lovely, tortoiseshell-like patterned stopper which is a close replica of the buttons that adorn the trench coat. The neck of the bottle is tied with the same fabric used in that iconic piece of clothing. When it comes to the design, all roads lead back to that classic trench.
My Burberry Eau de Parfum doesn’t smell like a cotton coat. Rather it’s the scent of a classic London garden in the city, and the lush wetness that comes after a rain.
Perfumer Francis Kurkdjian created a perfume with bright, earthy florals. The spritz opens with sweet pea and citrus, has a white floral heart, and at its base includes notes of sultry patchouli and rose. This is a comfortable, easy scent that at first sniff seems light and delicate, but deepens to reveal a warm and solid dry down that envelopes your senses. The similarities between trench and scent, don’t end at the bottle.
Burberry recently released the eau de toilette follow-up to My Burberry, which launched last fall. The toilette is a brighter take on the original, with lighter florals (think pink freesia and peach blossom) and a softer heart of white musk.
It makes sense to include two of Britain’s most iconic models (one with history, one new) to be the faces of this perfume. Kate Moss and Cara Delevingne teamed up to pose for photographer Mario Testino in the black and white ads. Wearing—what else? The brand’s trench coats of course—Moss and Delevingne happily start a perfume fight and then vogue for the camera.
Yes, a perfume fight. We love it.
My Burberry Eau de Parfum, $135 (90 ml) and Eau de Toilette, $105 (90 ml), www.thebay.com
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The Secret of Sherwood Forest
By Edwin Ross Quantrall
Part 1: Darkness and Fury
Part 2: Regrets, Refuge and Retribution
Part 3: Prophesies and Ploys
Part 4: Reunion and Tragedy
Part 5: A Cold Dish, an Acrobat's Wish, and a Homecoming
Part 6: An Audience, an Alternative, and a Revelation
Part 7: A Duel, A Beautiful Friendship, and a Promotion
Part 8: Farewells
Part 9: A Plot Takes Shape, A Friend's Resolve, and A Sleepless Night
Part 10: Morning
Part 11: Discoveries, Allies, and a Plan
Part 12: Descent into Madness, a Change of Heart, and Another Dream
Part 13: Decisions, Decisions
Part 14: Things Change
Part 15: Back Home Again
Part 16: Power Plays and Child's Play
Part 17: Games of Chance
Part 18: Winter and Discontent
Part 19: Righteous Deception
Part 20: Truce and Parley
Part 21: Approaching Storms
Art by Ken Singshow
This story was inspired by a picture I saw while visiting Ken Singshow's Webpage. I thought that it was such a strange and interesting juxtaposition of imagery that I just had to write something based on it. Such a genre (called "crossover") is certainly not unique in Science Fiction/Fantasy literature. Countless "Star Trek", "Dr. Who" and other fans have written stories using characters from other completely different shows or media. (I know of at least one Dr. Who/Mr. Peabody story.) So I guess that a story mixing elements from Walt Disney Productions' "Robin Hood" (1973) and Don Bluth Productions' "The Secret of NIMH" (1982) is, on reflection, not all that out of line. Rest assured that I will do my best to maintain both the comedic and dramatic spirit of the movies while, at the same time, maintaining a certain dignity in the characters.
Because of the nature of this particular type of crossover (combining both physical and psychological aspects of two very disparate characters) certain changes will be evident in names, type of animal, and the like; as well as the fact that, being unable to find certain characters in the "Robin Hood" story that are analogous to those in "NIMH", I have had to "adapt" certain character traits to another, already extant, character. A number of characters are totally new, created to expand the narrative scale of the story. Others are only slightly modified or substantially unchanged from their movie or legendary incarnations.
Then, I had to create an "Alternate World" in which a Robin Hood-like character could exist without actually being known by that name. I also had to decide which plot would take precedence and chose the Robin Hood story since it is more readily adaptable to my purposes, although I will be including as many elements from "NIMH" as possible. This warning, though. Don't be surprised if this story takes the unexpected turn or two. In order to give this story an element of spontineity, I'm writing it without benefit of an outline. (although I certainly have a rough idea of the direction that the overall plot will take, only a very few specific events have been plotted out in advance.)
King Nicodemus was dead. Killed by the treachery of his adopted brother, Jenner, the Prince Regent. Jenner, a vain, selfish, overambitious lion, had planned his Sovereign's death to the last detail. The King had been overseeing the construction of a new section of the tower where the Crown Jewels are stored when they are not on view; both to remind the King of his obligation to his subjects, and to show the other animals the power of their King. At the precise moment that King Nicodemus had stepped into a predetermined area, called there by a "worker" who was actually one of Jenner's henchmen, several others used iron bars to topple a section of the wall that had been secretly weakened the night before. King Nicodemus, along with Sir Jonathan Brisbee, his most trusted advisor, was killed instantly.
Jenner, a firm believer in efficiency over compassion, immediately seized the throne and, in a record-fast ceremony, had himself crowned King. He then gave his subjects, still taken aback by the speed of events, a hard choice: "Serve the Glory of your new King with all your Heart!", meaning, of course, higher taxes and more labor in the fields to support the lifestyle to which Jenner and his friends had become accustomed, or have all of your property confiscated anyway and probably either end in one of His Majesty's debtors prisons or be exiled to the countryside. He also ordered his new Captain-of-the-Guard; a slovenly, ill-humored wolf named Sullivan; to hunt down and capture or, more preferably, kill the former Captain, a highly respected, much-loved fox named Justin.
"C'mon, m'lady. we have to leave NOW!" Justin said sternly, hoisting young Timothy Brisbee into his arms. A driving rain, along with white-hot lightning and the booming peals of accompanying thunder, would serve to cover their escape from Londontown only temporarily. Lady Marian Brisbee, widow of Sir Jonathan, tearfully nodded and finished tying her cape. A beautiful vixen, her manner both at court and among the common people was much admired and her smile was said to light up whatever room she entered. But now, mourning the death of her husband and dressed in some old, threadbare traveling clothes that Justin had brought with him to disguise their hasty escape, her beauty, while still much in evidence, was also much subdued.
Her children, a young rabbit family that she and Jonathan had adopted from the King's Orphanage only months before, were also Ddressed for the trip in a similar manner. Theresa and Martin, the oldest, were confused but realized the gravity of the situation and remained, for the most part, calm. Youngest daughter Cynthia, however, was on the verge of hysterics, first demanding to know where her father was and when he would be arriving home, then, when Justin finally broke the news to them as gently as he knew how, bursting into tears and running to hide under her bed. It took the better part of an hour to calm her down enough to get her ready to leave, but no one knew how long this would last. Timothy, the youngest of all the children, was also calm, almost strangely so. He had just recovered from a life-threateningly intense bout with pneumonia, a feat which had had the court-physician scratching his head. But something had happened to Timothy in that time. Where he had once been bubbly, playful and carefree; he was now more shy and withdrawn, sometimes waking, terrified and soaked in sweat, in the middle of the night screaming that monsters were after him.
After a last longing look to make sure that she had left nothing that would give Sullivan any clue as to their whereabouts, Lady Brisbee blew out the last candle and stepped out of the door of her manor, not bothering to lock it, and into the rain and an uncertain future. Justin was waiting under the light of a lantern which was hanging from a pole on a small handcart which held the few meager possessions that Justin had instructed them to bring as well as Timothy and Cynthia, both of whom shivered miserably as they huddled under a rain-soaked canvas tarp, with Martin and Theresa, who were lost in their own thoughts. At a nod from Justin, they began to trudge along the muddy streets.
No one spoke as Justin led them away from the City. The rain poured for several more hours but, gradually, began to taper off. Lady Brisbee could see that Timothy and Cynthia had crawled to the middle of the cart and fallen asleep in each others arms under their ersatz blanket. Martin; a bright lad who shared his father's courage and curiosity, sometimes to the point of recklessness; dutifully kept up the punishing pace that Justin had set, a range of emotions playing across his face, enhanced by the shadows from the dim light of the lantern no matter how hard he tried to hide them. Theresa, a usually fun-loving but practical-minded girl, was visibly tiring and had a death-grip on the cart as she grimly plodded along, tears of exhaustion streaming from her eyes. Brisbee had cried silently to herself most of the night, her tears washed by those of Nature as both mourned the untimely death of a loving husband and father. But, like the rain, her tears were spent and the task of supporting the family now rested, as uneasily as she hoped that the Crown of Britain rested on Jenner's head, on her shoulders.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Justin suddenly stopped and rested the cart on its supports so quickly that Theresa nearly collided with it. Cynthia awoke and timidly asked, "What happened? Why have we stopped?" Theresa, meanwhile, collapsed to her knees and crawled to lean against one of the cart's wheels.
Justin ducked out from behind the push-handle and said, "Rest here for a few minutes. I have to talk with your mother." With a slight nod he indicated the direction that they were to walk.
A few minutes later, when they were out of earshot of the children, Justin stopped and pulled an object out of a pocket of his vest and held it up to the first rays of dawn that were beginning to peer over the horizon. Lady Brisbee recognized it immediately. It was a round, blood-red stone, about the size of Cynthia's fist, set into aplain gold backing attached to a thin gold chain. An inscription on the reverse read "You can Unlock any Door if You only have the Key." It had been given to Jonathan when he had been appointed Chancellor by King Nicodemus several years ago. "You know about the legends behind the history of this." Justin stated, his voice betraying a hint of concern and...something else...fear? Lady Brisbee nodded, taken aback by this. Justin regarded the Amulet in the ever-so-slowly increasing sunlight. "I've always known about them too," He said almost reverently, talking more to himself than Lady Brisbee. "but I never really believed them."
"And you do now?" Brisbee asked, worried that the events of the past several hours were taking their toll on Justin's rational thought processes.
A part of his resolve collapsed as he closed his eyes and sadly shook his head, a tear running down his face until it was soaked up by fur. "No." he murmured. Then he opened his eyes, which burned with an intensity that she had never seen before. "But Jenner does. Andso do many of the other animals. That's why you and the children are in such danger. If Jenner should ever get his paws on this amulet he could use it to bend the Nation to his will." He took one of Lady Brisbee's paws and gently placed the amulet into it. "The only safe place in the Kingdom right now is the forests of Sherwood in my birthplace, Nottinghamshire." He pointed down the road in the direction that they had been walking. "I know that you and the children are tired, but you need to keep going as quickly as possible until you see a small branch-path on the right-hand side of the road next to a low stone wall. Take that path into the forest; it's narrow, dark and frightening, but that's the whole idea; and follow it until you see a house on the edge of a small clearing. Dr. Ages should be somewhere about, he never wanders very far from his laboratory. Don't be surprised if he already knows you. Tell him what has happened, although I suspect he may already have heard, and tell him that I will try to be back as soon as I'm able."
Lady Brisbee, not sure of what to make of his instructions, nodded hesitantly and asked. "But where are you going? If Jenner is looking for you, wouldn't it be safer to come to this Dr. Ages with us?"
Justin shook his head. "Safer for me, maybe, and then only in the short run. But if I present myself as a more convenient prey, then perhaps the hounds will ignore the more important scent. Besides, I have an important task to perform back in Londontown." He added, his voice dripping with dark fury. He then gently took her by the shoulders and gazed intently into her eyes. "You hold the future of Britain and the freedom of her subjects in your paws." He whispered. "Jonathan's love for you, I can see, was not misplaced and, if you keep your chin up, all will turn out well." He then turned and walked back to the hand-cart. By now, Timothy was also awake and the sun was sending its first sliver of full light over the horizon. Martin had found some straight branches and some lengths of rope and, with the tarp, rigged a tent that covered the bed of the cart, where Theresa was now asleep. Justin complimented the young Brisbee on his resourcefulness as he reached in and, carefully so as not to wake Theresa, removed his sword and scabbard, bow, quiver and arrows. Martin beamed proudly as he thanked the fox, who was already marching toward the City.
"I trust you bring me some positive news?" The figure at the window intoned without turning around.
Sullivan prayed inwardly, glad that he was already on bended knee. "I'm afraid not, Your Majesty. Both the Brisbee family and the Amulet were gone by the time we got there. Someone even forgot to lock the front door. We were able to just walk right in."
"Justin, I suppose." Said the figure morosely. "His way of rubbing my face in the fact that he's one step ahead of me." The figure then turned and walked toward a door that led to the courtyard overlook. Sullivan signaled the soldiers with him to remain where they were and followed.
When they reached the overlook, Sullivan cleared his throat and said in his most soldierly voice, "Your Majesty, permission to speak freely?" Jenner, chin resting on interlocked fingers as he leaned on the stone wall, gave a curt nod.
"Sir," Sullivan began, hoping that Jenner understood that he was trying to talk soldier-to-soldier rather than Officer to King. "You now have what we were all after. You now wear the Crown and sit on the Throne of Britain. What difference does it make whether or not you wear some worthless red stone around your neck when you have a whole nation under your feet?"
"Sullivan, do you know the legends behind that 'worthless red stone'; as you call it?" Jenner asked, his voice cold and distant.
"Of course, Sir," Sullivan replied. "Every child in the realm grows up with those stories. They've been passed down for longer than this Kingdom has existed."
"Yes, my friend, and do you know why that is so?" Jenner turned and stared hard into Sullivan's eyes, an almost demonic cast in his own. "Because those stories; those legends, ancient as they are; are true!" The new King began pacing agitatedly along the walkway. "All those battles won, all those armies defeated by heros who had only one thing in common: they all wore that Amulet!" Seeing that his acolyte was unconvinced, he continued on a different tack. "Besides, whoever possesses that Amulet has the respect of all of Britain. I'm under no illusion that I've started my rule with clean paws. Rumors as to the circumstances of my dear adopted brother's death are already spreading through the city like wildfire. As with all rumors there will be that few who, after the fires of half-truth and lies are extinguished, will keep a few embers of fact burning, always ready to fan them into flames of scandal at the first opportunity." He pounded his fist on the stone railing. "This I cannot abide with! If, with or without the stone, the people refuse to obey my will as their legitimate Sovereign, then they will be punished!" Jenner then stepped to Sullivan's side and whispered conspiratorially, "If, however, the flames that I've described can be stopped before they can do any major damage, who knows? The one who most diligently stamps out the fires would certainly be deserving of certain, shall we say, benefits?"
Sullivan, a follower of Jenner since becoming one of his guards many years ago, had learned quite well that, while vain and power-hungry, Jenner had a certain perverse sense of loyalty, believing that not only could you, for the right price, buy both happiness and friends, but, for just a bit more, you could also keep them. He nodded his understanding.
"Excellent!" Jenner smiled, baring his fangs; a sign that Sullivan knew meant that failure on his part meant the most dire of consequences. "A most dangerous flame burns even as we speak. I suggest that you find it and put it out as soon as possible." Jenner then quickly turned his back on Sullivan, his black cape billowing behind him, and strode through the doorway, leaving Sullivan to figure out how he was going to deal with a wily fox named Justin.
In the next several hours after Justin had left the Brisbee family to continue their journey, Lady Marian; with the help of Martin or a now somewhat stronger Theresa; had struggled to pull the cart as far as she could throughout the day. Justin had made it look so easy. "But then," She thought to herself, "He is a well-trained and disciplined professional soldier suited to a life of physical exertion. I, on the other paw, am...was a noblewoman of the court of King Nicodemus. The only work that I was expected to do was to administer the royal household. Now I'm a hungry, penniless, tired widow with four children to support." She sighed to herself, deciding that fate, indeed, was a sometimes cruel, sometimes benevolent, force.
A sudden noise from the trees of the forest surrounding them broke into her thoughts. She could have sworn she had heard something, a voice maybe? But the children gave no indication of having heard anything. Martin was still at her side doing his level best to make his mother's labor easier to bear. Theresa, though still weak from exhaustion, was at the rear, pushing the cart. Timothy and Cynthia were walking ahead, tossing stones and small pebbles out of the way of where they thought the cart's wheels would roll.
There it was again! Much closer too! "Could it be Highwaymen?" She thought to herself. King Nicodemus had rid all but the most isolated areas of his realm of these robbers. But had word of his death traveled so fast among them that they now felt safe to resume their nefarious activities? And in broad daylight, no less! She dreaded the thought of having to deal with such cutthroats, even though Justin had let them pack only the most necessary items and making her leave her most valuable possessions at the manor. "Calm down," She chided herself. "Or you'll scare yourself silly!"
SNAP! This time even the children had heard it! Martin and Theresa looked up in surprise toward where they thought the sound had come from. Cynthia was already running headlong into the forest where Timothy was pointing. "No!" Lady Brisbee shouted instinctively. But the little rabbit was too far away to hear her call and too eager and curious to be aware of the potential danger.
"Martin, stay with the cart!" She ordered, ducking under the pushbar. "Theresa! Timothy! Did you see where she went?"
"I can still see her, mother!" Timothy shouted excitedly. Lady Brisbee plunged into the thick bramble that was the border of road and forest. She too could see her youngest daughter, who seemed to be on her haunches talking to someone. Thorns and barbs of various types tore into or stuck to her cape and the fur of her legs and tail, stinging as they were forced to release her from their futile grip. "Oh, to be a small child again; able to wriggle through all that and come out unscathed." She thought wistfully. She could now see that Cynthia was leaning over the edge of a large, deep pit. Seconds later, she arrived at the same spot and swept the small rabbit into her arms. "Oh, Cynthia, honey, please, please! Don't ever run into the forest like that again! You frightened Mommy so much!" She pleaded, almost in tears. The look of remorse that came to the young rabbit's face was genuine, but instantly changed to one of glee as she pointed into the hole. "Mommy, Mommy! There's someone in there! He says he's trapped!"
Lady Brisbee, her eyes more accustomed to the darkness, could indeed see a figure at the bottom of the void. "Hello?" she asked hesitantly. "Is everything all right?" A humor-filled voice floated up. "Well, other than being forced to sleep in this mud-pit half the night. Yeah, I suppose everything's pretty dandy!" At that moment, Theresa arrived, holding the glowing lantern. The voice in the hole, they saw, belonged to a young rooster who, apparently true to his word, was covered comb to spurs with layers of mud.
After helping the rooster, who introduced himself with a flourish as Jeremy O'Dale, out of the hole, he led them to a nearby creek to wash the mud off of his clothes.
"How did you end up in there?" Theresa asked as she wrung out his shirt.
"Well, it's an odd thing!" Jeremy, who had wrapped himself in a blanket that Lady Brisbee gave him, said. "I was in the town of Foth'ringshay playing for my supper at the inn." He indicated a lute that lay next to him. "I had collected several crown over what I needed to eat and was going to spend the night; my first in an actual warm bed in many a week, mind you; when all of a sudden the Sheriff of Nottingham and a bunch of his Deputies comes swaggering into the place and demands a meal that instant. Well, the innkeeper tells him that others are waiting to be served and he too'll just have to wait. The Sheriff, some twit of a bear whose men called him Brutus, just walks over to the poor bloke and lets him have it across the snout! Then he tells every one that he's looking for a lady fox and her kids, rabbits if you can believe that!" Jeremy then noticed the shocked looks on the faces looking down on him. "What!" he asked, confused. "What'd I..." Then his eyes bulged with realization. "You!" he shouted. "You're the ones he's looking for!" The rooster then began to laugh uproariously. Lady Brisbee and the children, now themselves confused, looked at each other, mouths agape, and shrugged, unsure what to make of this. As the laughter subsided to a fit of uncontrolled giggling, Theresa regarded Jeremy skeptically and said, "Oh great! The local law is after our heads and we stopped to rescue this looney!"
"Theresa! Mind your manners, young lady!" Scolded Lady Brisbee, embarrassed by her daughters outburst. "Yes, min' your manners!" Cynthia piped in.
"Oh, that's okay!" Jeremy said, a bemused cackle in his voice. "Anyway," He continued, "I walked over to this big bushel of fur and told him that he had no business hitting defenseless innkeepers and that he was so fat that even if he saw a lady fox with kids, he'd be lucky to be able to actually catch them. Well, as you might be able to guess, those few moments of pleasure had to be paid for with a few hours of pain. He and his Deputies dragged me here to this hole and threw me in. luckily they didn't damage my source of income."
Lady Brisbee smiled at Jeremy's good humor, but inside she was in turmoil. That the Kings Guard was after the Amulet was bad enough, but she could be reasonably sure that even Jenner would not dare try to harm her. But the Sheriffs of the various Shires, except in matters pertaining to the collection of the King's revenues, were pretty much a law unto themselves and while the majority were conscientious about their duties to their constituents, others saw the office as a way to enrich themselves because they were entitled to the excess revenues from seized land or properties. King Nicodemus had tried to reform this state of affairs, but the changes that were being planned had died with him.
"By the way," The rooster said off-handedly. "For whom did I have the honor of taking last nights bath?"
"I'm La..." She hesitated for a moment. All that this wandering musician knew for the moment was that she and the children were wanted by the local Sheriff for some unknown reason and seemed sympathetic to their plight. And while it might later become necessary to divulge why she was on the run, she decided that Jeremy O'Dale could not lie about that which he didn't know. "I'm Mrs. Brisbee." She stated calmly. When the children gave her a collective questioning look, she returned it with one that said, "Go with me on this one and I'll explain later."
After introducing her children, Mrs. Brisbee asked Jeremy where he was going next. "Not to Foth'ringshay, that's for sure!" He replied with a chuckle. "I could head South to Londontown or West to Darby, or even Coventry. I haven't been that way in several months."
This disappointed Mrs. Brisbee. "Before you go then, could you tell us how much longer it will be before we find a narrow path next to a low stone wall to the right side of the road?"
"You mean Ol' Doc Ages place?" Jeremy asked, perplexed.
"You know him?" Mrs. Brisbee asked, also surprised.
"He's let me sleep in his hayloft once or twice, so long as I promised not to sing for him." He chuckled again, emphasizing the "not".
"Would you be willing to take us at least that far?" she ventured, heartened by Jeremy's knowlege of the area.
"Sure!" He answered. "I don't have anything to otherwise occupy my time and even a night in a hayloft is a good step up from one in a mudhole."
Mrs. Brisbee thanked him and since his clothes; a collection of once classy, but now out-dated and rather unfashionable, formal wear; were now dry, she had the children repack the cart. As Martin was about to take his place at his mothers side behind the pushbar, Jeremy said, "Now there, young lad, you look a bit tired to these observant eyes. I'll help your mother with the cart while you get some rest, okay?" Martin looked first at Mrs. Brisbee then, longingly, at the cart. Mrs. Brisbee nodded her approval and thanked the rooster. "No problem, Ma'am." He said as the rabbit climbed into the cart. With that, he nodded in the direction of Dr. Ages house and, picking up the cart's pushbar, started off.
The gravesites, side-by-side, were unmarked. No headstone. No monument. No marker. Nothing to indicate that there were bodies in coffins under the freshly turned soil. Jenner, in his twisted wisdom, had ordered King Nicodemus and Sir Jonathan Brisbee hastily buried in the most isolated "potter's field" in all Londontown. A field that had long ago been reserved for traitors, spies and other such threats to the Crown and its subjects.
Even through his tears, Justin could see the irony in Jenner's choice. To the new King, Nicodemus was, in fact, a traitor. A traitor to Jenner's perverse ideals of greed, vanity and power for its own sake. Therefore, he deserved, in his adopted sibling's eyes at least, to be interred with others of the ilk.
Justin thought back to the last time that he had cried. An orphan himself, he had just turned twelve, still no more than a kit. He had spent his first night away from home in the barracks of the Kings Guards where he and about two dozen other boys had been sent. He had not been the only one to cry himself to sleep; but since he was the smallest and youngest, he was the one who all of the other young animals mercilessly ragged on that first day. That night he had resolved never to cry again as long as he served his King. Through the years, he had not only served The King; and when the old ruler eventually died, his heir, King Nicodemus and his Prince Regent, Jenner; he'd served with such distinction that he was the first Captain-of the-Guard to be picked from the Guard's own ranks (usually a Colonel from the Army was given the job, which for all its supposed pomp and glory was considered a step down in status) and the youngest to attain the post to boot! And all but one of the others who had been in his troop that first night and day had been either sent back to wherever they had come from or had transferred to postings in His Majesty's Army. But the one who had stayed was Sullivan.
Justin had known that Sullivan was trouble from the first week that their troop had begun training. The young wolf was lazy, mean-spirited, disrespectful and a bully to the others and, when he could get away with it, a thief. Unfortunately, he was also a competent soldier when he applied himself to the task; one had only to ask the many training partners with dislocated joints or broken bones whom he had sent to the infirmary at one time or another. Justin himself had suffered a few bruises at the business end of one of Sullivan's quarterstaffs or practice swords, but his own natural lithness and an almost, some thought, preternatural ability to predict where the wolf would strike his next blow; although Justin would have pointed out that Sullivan, if observed for a long enough period of time, would telegraph his next blow as he became overconfident; had helped him to tie or best his colleague, even if the result was only a bruise to Sullivan's egorather than his hide. But Sullivan was also a natural sycophant, and it was only natural that he should have fallen under the influence of the Prince Regent.
Jenner, for all his skills as a master manipulator, sorely lacked any real battlefield leadership abilities. While his grasp of military knowledge bordered on the merely adequate and he could recite most of the lessons taught him by rote, although with little passion, his real skill, as he would show from the day of his investiture, was to make no end of trouble for his ever-forgiving adoptive brother. Jenner and Sullivan, therefore, were soon secretly hatching plots to rid themselves of the various perceived obstacles on their path to power. The first victim had been their most difficult; the King's Physician, Doctor Ages. Jenner had, with the help of various allies among the lesser so-called "nobles", started a rumor that an "agent provocateur" had been sent from one of the continental Empires to poison or somehow incapacitate His Majesty as a first step to the conquest of Britain. Somehow, in a manner that Justin had never been able to discover, Jenner or Sullivan or one of his allies had skillfully mixed a near-lethal dose of poison into the King's ale; planting just enough evidence along a trail that Justin, then a young Troop-Captain, was forced to follow when he was appointed to be the Chief Investigator; thus implicating Ages. With a heavy heart; because he, along with the King's Coroner, a wise young fox named Jonathan Brisbee, believed the good Doctor to be innocent of the charges; he had been forced to send Ages to exile in the countryside. But the three quickly hatched a plot of their own. They vowed to use every means at their disposal to counter Jenner's every effort, no matter how small, to take the Crown. Brisbee, ironically, was Titled for his part in the "successful" completion of the investigation and given the post of Chancellor, who spoke for His Majesty when the King was conducting business elsewhere. This also entitled Sir Jonathan to wear The Amulet, a stone so fabled for its powers; though no one in living memory had ever seen them applied; that all factual information, beyond the stories passed from generation to generation, had been lost aeons ago. Justin, much to his shock, was also promoted; over Sullivan, in fact; which was probably what prompted the wolf to resign his commission in the King's Guard and become Jenner's personal aide-de-camp. And so, for the past several years, these three colleagues had, in great secrecy, been both eyes and ears; watching and listening and trading tiny scraps of information between each other; to keep both the Crown and, far more importantly, The Amulet away from Jenner's grasp.
But all those years of effort had been in vain. He lay prostrate on the wet grass at the foot of the twin gravesites as sobs of grief wracked his body, years of suppressed emotions freeing themselves as they ran rampant through his mind. "Oh, Your Majesty!" he cried. "I was supposed to die under that wall, not you! You have a whole Kingdom that needs your guidance and wisdom! I would gladly give up my own life if it would bring back yours!" A gentle rain, blown in from the Sea by a fair early-Summer's breeze, began to fall. Justin got to his knees and hung his head in shame. "Jonathan," He sobbed. "You had a wife, children...a family! I don't even know my own last name! You and your family had a future together! All that I had was my post in the Guard." Now even this was denied him. The rain fell harder, soaking into his fur and mingling with his tears, causing him to shiver as a cold wind began to moan through the surrounding trees. A distant noise, like the slow roll of a side-drum at a funeral procession, told him that another storm was approaching. Justin heaved a sigh of defeat. He dimly &remembered; stories that his adoptive mother had told him about the brave and gallant Knights of ancient times who, before going into battle, would meditate or pray at the grave of a dead predecessor in hopes that the spirit of the one buried therein would offer advice or words of encouragement. "Your Majesty; Jonathan. Please forgive me. I'm so lost right now. I've depended on the wisdom of others for so much of my life that I have none of my own. For only the second time in my whole life I'm completely alone!" Only the wind and another distant drum-roll of thunder answered his plea.
After a moment he stood, drew his sword, and rendered his best salute. A moment later, after sheathing the blade, he drew two arrows from the quiver that lay nearby and; following an old, honored and nearly forgotten Guards tradition taught to him by his predecessor; in quick succession, he nocked and launched them, symbolically puncturing the sky and givingnotice to the spirit-world that two more heros were coming to join their ranks.
The bare whisps of cloud glowed pale orange-pink with the last rays of the setting sun. The dark purple sky glistened with many constellations; broken, but also complimented by, the thin streak of crescent moon in the East. Mrs. Brisbee and her children stared in wonder at this display of Nature's nocturnal glory. "It's the most beautiful sight I've ever seen!" She exclaimed. "My, my! You have been living in the city too long. This is the roof that covers my head just about every night!" Jeremysaid; then, after thinking for a moment, he added, "But it does have a tendency to leak every once in a while." He smiled, pleased by the cleverness of his observation. Mrs. Brisbee returned it with one of her own. Jeremy had been a wonderful companion on their journey. He had a seemingly endless supply of entertaining banter about all of his various adventures as a wandering minstrel. While he saw himself as a last true practitioner of the old Bardic traditions; and Mrs. Brisbee had to admit to herself that his voice, while relatively untrained, was more than up to the task that he had set for himself; his most glaring deficiency was a distinct lack of skill on his chosen instrument. It was not that he lacked enthusiasm, nor probably even talent. But other than a few of the simplest chords, he simply couldn't play the lute.
Mrs. Brisbee, however, was no stranger to the instrument. All young ladies of the court were made aware of the importance of music as a part of daily life. While the "household arts" were usually stressed as the way to excite the wiles of the male ego, a virginal, mandolin or; for the more daring among them; an archlute and a small repitoire of romantic ballads were,according to tradition, excellent aids in catching one's intended husband. Mrs. Brisbee, of course,had never put as much stock in those "traditions" as the other girls, but this did not mean that she hadn't enjoyed making music. While never really able to master the keyboard instruments (she had the annoying habit of pounding them into submission rather than produce anything even remotely resembling decent music) she had found her calling playing stringed instruments popular in the court as well as, and this had really caused sometalk among the more snobbish of the ladies, the guitar, thought suited only to the tastes of gypsies, tramps and thieves. But after her marriage to Jonathan, recently available because of his Titlement by The King, and her own appointment as Administrator-of-Household, she had been forced to give up any musical pursuits.
But with the death of her beloved husband, and especially with four small children to support, even the nomadic life that Jeremy chose to live was beginning to look more than a little promising, particularly since they were now fugitives from whatever law that Jenner might use to persecute them.
"Pence for your thought, Ma'am?" Jeremy asked softly, a touch of concern in his usually jaunty voice.
Her slight scowl must have embarrassed him because he looked remorseful as he said, "You had that faraway look that my mom used to get when she told me bedtime stories aboutmy father. He was a minstrel too. He even had the honor of performing for Nicodemus whenhe was still the Crown Prince." Mrs. Brisbee's expression softened as she asked, "Do you ever visit your parents, with all of the travelling that you do?" Jeremy bowed his head and stared at the dewy grass, which reflected tiny sparkles of light from the moon and stars. "My father died in the Plague just before my brood hatched. Mom died a couple of years ago. Mybrothers and sisters say that she died of old age." He paused for a moment, as if to collect his thoughts, then sighed and continued. "But I think she really died from the sadness caused by a broken heart." Mrs. Brisbee laid a sympathetic paw on his back and nodded herunderstanding. The rooster smiled his own, the characteristic playful glint visible again even in the near-total darkness of the meadow that surrounded them. Nearby, the children were catching fireflies ∧ putting them in the lantern-glass, the fuel to keep it burning having run out long before.
"What do you say we get going, eh?" Jeremy asked in a comic dialect as he fairly skipped, as if a small child himself, toward the cart. "I hear tell th' Sheriff o' Nottin'ham's looking t' arrest a mama fox an' 'er kids for nabbin' th' King's fireflies!" The children giggled and laughed at the rooster's childish antics; but, soon enough, they were back on the road.
Mrs. Brisbee had no idea what time it was when she was awakened by Martin. Jeremy had insisted before they leave the meadow that she climb into the cart, cramped as it was, and get a few hours of desperately needed rest.
"Where are we? How long have I been asleep?" She asked, climbing down from the back of the conveyance.
"Oh, it's probably sometime after midnight." Jeremy answered casually.
She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and looked in the direction &that; he indicated with an outstretched wing. Up ahead she could see a small house; dark, except for several candles burning in one lower-story window.
A few minutes later, she knocked at the heavy wooden door. "Dr. Ages!" She called out. "Dr. Ages, are you home?"
"Go Away!" A harsh, grating voice yelled.
She knocked on the door again. "Dr. Ages! Please, I have to talk to you!"
"Go Away!" The voice said again.
Mrs. Brisbee now pounded insistently on the thick wood. "Dr. Ages! Please! I must speak..." She was taken aback when the door suddenly flew open. "...with you." she murmured.
Before her stood an ancient badger. His fur was patchy and faded white, including the eyestripes that gave all members of his species their distinctive look, and even his eyes, which must once have been brown or even black, had faded to a rheumy bluish-gray. He wore a rough-textured heavy cassock, almost like a sackcloth, as if he were doing penance for some sin.
"Great Jupiter, Woman! What do you want?" He demanded.
"Oh, thank goodness you're home! I know that you don't know who I am..." She started to explain.
"Yes, I do. You're Jonathan's widow. I'm sorry about your husband's death. Now, if you'll excuse me..." He started to close the door.
"No! Please wait! Justin sent me!" She exclaimed frantically.
The old badger regarded her skeptically, and then opened the door the rest of the way and peered into the darkness. "Alright," He said, with more than a hint of reluctance in his tone. "But get that cart into the barn. And tell those kids not to touch anything. I'm working on something, uh...something very important!"
While Jeremy went to park the cart in the barn, Mrs. Brisbee settled her children in the attic of the house where they were put to sleep in makeshift beds.
When she returned downstairs, Ages was drinking tea with Jeremy and listening to the events leading up to his meeting the Brisbee family. When Ages saw her, he waved her over to a large, overstuffed chair that had obviously been sat in far too many times. He motioned toward the tea, still intent on the rooster's story. She nodded, poured herself a cup and carefully tasted it. Surprisingly, it was absolutely delicious; it tasted like pepper and gingeroot with a hint of willowbark.
Ages, noticing the expression on her face, interrupted Jeremy, saying, "Like that, huh? It's my own special concoction. The willowbark's in there to take the ache out of these old bones."
After Jeremy finished his narrative of events of the past few days, Ages turned his attention to the beautiful fox seated before him. "Mrs. Brisbee," he began cordially, "First let me apologize for my behavior earlier tonight. I'm afraid I've been away from both civilization and the King's court for so long that my social graces have atrophied from disuse."
He lifted himself from his seat, with no small amount of difficulty, as the popping of various joints throughout his frame seemed to attest. Mrs. Brisbee was about to stand up to help him, but he motioned her to stay seated. "If I start asking for help every time my bones start creaking, they'll start gettin' lazy an' I'll have to get someone to look after me. I'm afraid I value my privacy too much to contemplate that ever happening." He shuffled over to the fireplace and placed a well-aged log into the glowing embers.
"I imagine that you must have many questions about the events that have disrupted your life and those of your children over the past two days. I promise that I will try to answer as many as possible tonight. But I must also warn you that there are some questions that you will ask that I will not, for my own reasons, be willing or able to answer." Ages ambled back to his chair and nestled back into its warm embrace.
Mrs. Brisbee hardly knew where to begin. Almost without thinking, she blurted out, "How did you know who I was? Justin told me before he left us that you might recognize me, but I must confess that I've never laid eyes on you in my life."
The old badger chuckled, as if he had all the worlds secrets. "Why, my Lady Marian, I was at your mothers side when she was giving birth to you! Infact, you were my very first medical assignment after my appointment as Royal Physician. That you don't remember me comes as no surprise to me because I became the King's Physician only three years later and you had barely left your teens when Jenner got me implicated in that poisoning scandal that indirectly led to your marriage to Jonathan!"
"You knew Jonathan?" She gasped, sitting bolt-upright as if hit between the shoulder blades with a sledgehammer.
Ages eyes darkened as he bitterly recalled the circumstances &of; how they crossed paths. "Jenner saw me as an obstacle to power because he knew that Nicodemus trusted me implicitly with his health and I returned the favor with unswerving loyalty. You'll remember that rumors abounded that one of the Continental &Empires; was trying to kill him in order to take control of the Crown. Jenner, with the help of certain allies in the lower aristocracy, then somehow gave Nicodemus a dose of poison, only enough to make him ill, and then cleverly laid the blame at my door. But the two officials appointed to the case were no fools. Jonathan suspected Jenner because none of the clues led outside of his circle of friends. The other official, a young Guardsman named Justin, did indeed first suspect me; but Jonathan kept asking the right questions and making Justin look beyond that which was in front of his eyes. In the end, we found that Jenner had manipulated the evidence against me in such a way that, no matter what we tried to present to the contrary, I would still be seen asa traitor to my King, and probably end up on the gallows. I decided to let myself be exiled here, where, with the help of your late husband and Justin, bless their souls, we did what we could to protect Nicodemus and keep the Crown and that Amulet..." He motioned to the stone that hung around her neck. "...away from Jenner."
"But what happened?" Mrs. Brisby asked, her voice a choked whisper as tears ran down her cheeks. "Why didn't he ever tell me any of this? Why?"
Ages sighed. "I think," He stated as he pulled his chair closer to hers. "That it would be best to answer your second question first. When we made our vows to protect King, Crown, Amulet, and by extension, Country; we also vowed secrecy so that, if any one of us should fall into Jenner's paws should he become too powerful to control, the other two would either attempt a rescue or, failing that, kill him so that he couldn't reveal the identities of the other two, who were to try to keep up the fight. What happened?" Ages shook his head sadly, seeming to age many decades in those few moments. "Justin found out that Jenner somehow got wind of Jonathan's part in our conspiracy of light. He didn't figure out until too late that Jenner sabotaged the tower wall to make it tumble down onto King Nicodemus andyour husband. After he saw it fall on them,Justin tried to dig them both out; but too many of Jenner's assistants were closing in and, besides, there was no way to have survived under all those tons of stone, mortar and wood. Justin did the only thing that he could think to do at that moment: he grabbed the Amulet which had fallen from Jonathan's neck..."
"And gave it to me." Mrs. Brisby whispered.
"Yes. Justin trusts you. He's always believed that you and Jonathan were right for each other; even though, when you two first met, I believed differently." When he saw her questioning look, he continued. "You see, I have been keeping track of my patients for many, many years. The reports on you were always extremely ambiguous. You were a practical girl. You were an impulsive girl. You were charitable almost to a fault. You were utterly, ruthlessly efficient as an Administrator. Where Jonathan saw qualities that made you an ideal wife in his eyes; I saw someone who might, however unwittingly, undermine our efforts to keep King Nicodemus on the Throne. It was Justin who convinced me that you were a loving and trustworthy companion for him."
Mrs. Brisbee sat dazed by what she was hearing, a wave of fatigue washing over her. Jeremy, who had been listening in rapt attention, now spoke up. "Now I know why the Sheriffs have had their Deputies locking up all the alms-seekers and homeless these past few weeks! Jenner probably set this thing in motion weeks ago, right under King Nicodemus's nose!"
"I shouldn't be at all surprised." Ages stated. "The Sheriffs have a lot of latitude when it comes to enforcing the criminal and civil codes. Nicodemus wanted to try to rein them in. No doubt that Jenner would have jumped at the opportunity to offer them almost unlimited localpower in return for their support. Clearing the streets of so-called "undesirable elements" would certainly signal to him that they are serious about giving that support." He looked at the rooster, his face set with concern. "I would suggest that you stay here with Mrs. Brisbee for the near future, my friend. I'm going to let you sleep in the house from now on. We'll have to get some beds from the abandoned inn a few miles down the road tomorrow. Tonight I'm afraid you'll have to make do on the couch in here; I'll see if I can find some more blankets somewhere."
To both of them he said, "I know that you've been through quite a bit these past few days, and I'm afraid that things are going &to; get far worse before they begin to get better. But if all of us work together for our mutual benefit we have a chance of making it through, hopefully relatively unscathed." He then glanced at what looked like a complicated sculpture that occupied most of a nearby table. "Great Jupiter!" He exclaimed, rising to his feet; more joints popping as he did so. "It's almost three-thirty!" He bade Mrs. Brisbee good night and hurried off to find Jeremy his promised blankets.
Mrs Brisbee made her way up to the attic and removed her cape and folded it, placing it at the foot of her improvised bed. The Amulet she hung from a protruding dowel that she had noticed earlier while putting the children to bed. She crawled under her covers and fell asleep as soon as her head hit the folded blanket that was her pillow. But hers was the uneasy sleep of hunted prey.
The morning Sun had only just cleared the horizon when Justin forced himself once again to stop and rest. He had been loping along at a good clip since just before dawn, after only a few hours of fitful sleep in an abandoned stone shed. He had been using old marching trails, cut centuries before when a proliferation of small armies rampaged through Britain before she was united under one King, now grown over from disuse. He could not see or be seen from the road, which this particular trail paralleled from a short distance away. Other than a bit of heavier than normal breathing Justin hadn't even broken a sweat, such was the excellence of his physical condition.
The only sounds from the forest that he had heard were the wind whispering through the trees and rustling leaves and his own &footfalls;, which weren't much louder. Stealth was not normally part of the training for a primarily ceremonial posting, but in recent years Justin had come to believe that any advantages that one could gain over one's adversaries were all too often the difference between survival and an early grave.
He wondered what the future, his future, held. He had considered taking Lady Brisbee and her children and moving them North to the Scottish Lands. But the animals in those parts were almost as wild as the land that they inhabited; and the land itself was so poor that Justin doubted that he and the Lady could sustain the needs of her family for very long. He had also considered taking them to Wales, the small Duchy that no British monarch had ever been able to force to join the Kingdom. He knew that its Duke bore no love for Jenner and that he and King Nicodemus seemed to bear no grudge against each other, but the Duke was a very wily old hare who no doubt would have let the children; who were, after all, rabbits; in, but would never have approved of a pair of unmarried foxes as parents. "No," He decided grimly, "I must help her to rebuild her shattered life here in Britain as much as I possibly can."
He was snapped out of his reverie by a commotion from the road. The crack of a whip, an item that had been banned from use in the Kingdom for centuries, sounded in the morning air. He had once seen one of these vile instruments of torture demonstrated on an old tree trunk that stood near the Guards parade ground and had been sickened by the very thought that one animal might once have used it to inflict pain on another. He carefully made his way to a small stand of brush to investigate the scene that was taking place on the road not far away.
A group of peasants, racoons by the look of them, was being forced to carry a huge sedan-chair. Normally, prisoners volunteered for such duty because it shaved time off of their sentence. But none of the animals under the load; a fat, baggy-eyed boar whom Justin recognized as a very successful merchant and one of Jenner's more unlikable allies; was wearing a prison uniform. And the merchant, whose name Justin could not remember, was unescorted. He could see no Deputy to guard the carriers, as was the prescribed practice.
"Dammit!" The merchant grunted. "I said get moving!" He let loose another blow, putting a bloody stripe across the back of one of his victims. The poor racoon cringed in agony but desperately bent to his near-impossible task without so much as a whimper.
Justin paled in horror at this sight. "Have Jenner's friends grown so arrogant and black-hearted that they now feel free to enslave peasants?" He asked himself.
The merchant landed yet another stroke on the poor racoon's back. "When I say move, I mean MOVE!" He squealed, almost as if delighted by the sound of the whipcrack and his own anger.
Justin could stand no more of this. He curled his lip and emitted a low growl; his feet fairly flying as he, quietly as a light summers breeze, made his way to a tall oak tree with a large overhanging branch that he'd spotted a short ways back. With the help of ivy vines growing up from the base of the huge trunk, he was up the tree and kneeling, like an avenging angel over an unrepentant sinner; over the spot in the road where the bent and bloodied racoons half-dragged, half-carried their enormous, cursing burden.
The boar never noticed Justin silently draw his sword out of its scabbard. He was too busy whipping the racoons and his sadistic frenzy to see or hear Justin swoop down with the sword over his head uttering a primal cry not heard since animals first walked on their hind legs.
The sword missed the merchant's head by no more than the thickness of a butterfly's wing; instead coming down full-force on the back of the seat of the chair and through the platform that supported it, rending the entire structure in two. Justin dropped expertly to the ground as it gave way. The merchant, caught totally unawares, landed awkwardly and painfully on his ample rump. The racoons were all thrown clear and uninjured to one side or another of the road. With speed born of years of practice in combat training drills; Justin, using the end of the hilt as a cudgel, drove it into the back of the boar's neck, stunning him into unconsciousness.
When he awoke, the merchant found that he'd been stripped to his silk underwear and tied tight, paw and hoof, face-to-face to a large and very sturdy looking oak tree. "What's the meaning of this!" he grunted, trying to see behind him but having no luck because of his thick neck and multiple chins. He could also still feel the lump that had formed as the result of the blow to his head. "Whoever you are, you'd better let me go! I'm a friend of the new King!" He tried his best to sound in command of the situation, but there was no way to keep a large measure of nervousness out of his voice. Suddenly, a fox stepped casually into his limited field of vision, paws behind his back, the expressionless vulpine eyes regarding him coldly. It took a few moments, but soon a glimmer of recognition crept into the boar's mind. "Y-You're the C-Captain-of-the-Guard!" He stammered. A hard smile came to Justin's face. "I was the Captain-of-the-Guard. Jenner has, shall we say, relieved me of my duties." He said sarcastically.
"Well, whatever you are or aren't, get over here and untie me and I'll see to it that you're amply rewarded!" The merchant exclaimed, the relief in his voice still tinged with nervousness. "And hurry it up! The bandits who robbed me may still be about!"
A nasty glare darkened Justin's face as he brought the whip into sight. "Bandits are the least of your worries at the moment." He stated flatly. The boar's eyes widened in panic. Justin walked over and knelt down, using the coiled whip to lift the boar's many-layered chin, to confront him nose-to-snout. "I never thought," Justin hissed angrily, "That I would see the day when one animal would feel that he could enslave another using something like this!" He indicated the whip that he held with narrowed, burning eyes. "But I guess that as long as Jenner wears the Crown, anything can happen." Justin then rose and began pacing around the merchant as a vulture circles a fresh kill. "I sent those poor racoons home. You know, of course, that all of them are going to have a permanent reminder of their mistreatment at your hands. Their children or parents or relatives are gonna wonder why their father or son or brother has those horrible scars on his back. And what are they gonna say? That some fat hog whipped 'em bloody because they couldn't lift him high enough or carry him fast enough?"
The merchant shifted uncomfortably, the vines used to tie him biting into his hocks and wrists. "P-Please," he begged. "I-I'll pay them for their trouble! I-I just lost control because I was in a hurry!" Large droplets of perspiration began to form on his pale, saggy flesh.
Justin stopped his pacing, reached down and grabbed the boar's snout, bringing them eye-to-eye and eliciting a frightened whine. "I already gave them all the money in your strong-box!" He said sharply. "As well as all those fine clothes! I even wanted to strip you to the skin, but no one wanted your undergarments! And as for losing control..." He whipped his paw to one side and back, smashing the boar's snout into the tree. A small trickle of blood began to flow from one nostril. "Oops!" Justin said, mock-gleefully. "Did I do that? I'm sorry! I just sorta 'lost control'!" He then grabbed the boar's snout again and growled, "Now you listen to me you pig! I'm not gonna kill you, even though Britain wouldn't miss your worthless hide, because I want you to deliver a message to Jenner! You tell that flea-bitten excuse for a throw-rug that I'm making it my mission in life to make his life and those of his friends as miserable as he's made mine for as long as he wears that Crown! Got it?" The merchant quickly nodded, tears of pain and relief streaming from his eyes.
Justin released his grip on the merchant's snout and counted five paces back from where the boar was tied to the tree. "Wh-What're you gonna do?" The boar asked through chattering teeth.
Justin unfurled the whip and gave it an experimental crack. "There's an old proverb that states: 'A moment of pleasure at the expense of others must eventually be paid for by many hours of pain at the expense of ones self.' You had your pleasure at the expense of those peasants. Now, I'm gonna take it out of YOUR hide! One stroke per peasant!"
With that, ignoring the merchant's tearful pleas for mercy, Justin let loose with the first stroke, putting every ounce of his strength behind it. The huge, thick oak shook to its roots as the boar squealed in pain, leaves shaking loose from branches and scattering in the light wind.
Seven more times Justin landed the whip across the boar's back, each time answered by a squeal of agony; which, Justin thought, sounded suspiciously like the squeals of pleasure that he had given while he was whipping the raccoons; and resulting in a bloody stripe down his back.
After the last lash, Justin tossed the whip aside. "Remember," He said calmly and deliberately, "Jenner gives up the Crown or else I turn his life into pure and total misery!" He then executed a perfect about-face and disappeared into the forest; leaving the boar bawling like a child.
The sun was high when Mrs. Brisbee awoke. She realized this with a start and, putting on the Amulet and her cape, ran downstairs to see to the children. In the small but well-stocked kitchen, Dr. Ages was preparing a pot of what smelled like corn-and-bean porridge. Catching sight of her, he smiled brightly and said, "Good Morning, M'Lady! Lunch in twenty minutes!" Brisbee smiled and returned the greeting, reluctantly reminding him that since she had apparently been stripped of her rank and title within the court, as well as being a wanted fugitive, she preferred "Mrs." because "Lady" might draw unwanted attention. Ages thought about this a moment. "Very good point, Mrs. Brisbee! You certainly know how to think on your feet!" He said with admiration.
Brisbee bade him goodbye and went to the main room. Jeremy was sprawled across one of the padded chairs absently strumming his lute. "Oh, hey, Mrs. B.!" He said, looking up. "If you're looking for your brood, they're out playing in the meadow." Mrs. Brisbee thanked him and was about to go out the door but hesitated. "Jeremy," she said, "How would you like me to help you, um, improve on your playing skills; not that there's anything wrong with them now! Don't get me wrong!" The rooster let out a characteristic cackle. "Don't worry about offending my sensibilities, Mrs. B. I know that I'm not the virtuoso that I pretend to be." He placed the instrument aside and stood, proffering a gentlemanly bow. "I'd be honored to take music lessons from her Ladyship!" He said, in a somewhat exaggerated version of the manner of the royal court. Mrs. Brisbee giggled and returned his bow, saying, "Why, M'Lord! 'twill be my greatest of pleasures! I am but your humble servant!" They looked into each other's eyes, enjoying the moment, then burst out in childish laughter.
Leaving Jeremy to his playing, Mrs. Brisbee stepped out of the house. Before her lay a vast tree-lined meadow. It was breathtaking in its beauty, with colorful wildflowers dotting the landscape. A stones-throw away, a small garden, surrounded by a low stone wall, complimented the picturesque scene. The children were playing not far away; Martin and Theresa engaged in a game of tag from the look of it, while Cynthia was playing with a cloth doll that she had somehow acquired. Timothy, his head propped against the garden wall, was staring at the far edge of the field as if lost in thought. She walked slowly toward where Martin and Theresa frolicked in the tall grass. Martin, who was chasing his older sister, was the first to notice his mother's approach. "Hi, mom!" He called out. Theresa stopped only long enough to wave, and then said, "C'mon, Slowpoke, you're still 'it' and you haven't caught me yet!" With that, Martin resumed his pursuit of his older sibling.
She continued to where Cynthia sat, the young rabbit holding the doll; which had been sewn hurriedly from what looked like Turkish-bath-towel cloth which might once have been white but was now a faded, dingey gray; out toward her mother. "Look, mommy!" She exclaimed proudly. "That nice Doctor Ages made it for me this morning!" The doll stared blankly from mismatched button eyes; a crude nose and lopsided, somewhat forlorn, smile embroidered into the cloth completed the face. "That's wonderful, honey! I hope you remembered to thank him for it!" She said gently. Cynthia scrunched her face in thought, then smiled. "Oh, yes! I remembered!" The little rabbit then returned to playing with her new toy; not thinking, as it was with most children her age, beyond the moment.
She walked over to the wall where Timothy lay. He appeared to be dozing in the gentle heat of the warm mid-day sun. She was about to leave him to his sleep when he opened one eye and said, "Oh, hi mom." Brisbee sat beside him, back to the wall, and drew her knees to her chin. "Enjoying the sunshine?" She asked. Timothy closed the eye again. "Thinkin'." He said in a calm, neutral tone. "About?" She asked gently, not wishing to prod him unnecesisarily.
Timothy opened both of his wide brown eyes and sat up, assuming a posture identical to that of his mother. "A dream." He stated matter-of-factly, his eyes taking on a haunted cast.
Mrs. Brisbee noticed the change in her son, becoming somewhat alarmed. Ever since his recent bout with pneumonia he'd been sleeping badly. "Everyone has dreams, sweetheart, good and bad." She said, reassuringly.
"No!" He said, grabbing his mother's wrist in such a vise-like grip that it began to hurt her. He was now looking past her, as if he could see something that she could not. "You don't understand! For the past several weeks I've been having nightmares about Dad getting killed. And when he died a few days ago I knew, somehow, what had happened even before Captain Justin came and told us." He shivered in the warm air and continued, loosening his grip on his mother's hand. "This morning I was awakened before the others by another dream." He swallowed hard. "I dreamt of a fire. I don't really know what it was that was on fire, but it was so real that I could smell the smoke and feel the heat of the flames around me." He was back to the present in an instant, calm again. "I don't know what it means." he said to her unasked question, releasing her wrist and letting his own paw fall to the ground at his side. "I just thought that I had to tell someone."
Just then, Jeremy sauntered up to where they were sitting. "Hey, you two, didn't you hear me?" He asked jovially, "Lunch is served!"
Mrs. Brisbee nodded and said, "We'll be there in a few moments, Jeremy. Please go ahead without us."
The rooster smiled and shrugged and said, "No problem. I can understand wanting some quality time together." He turned and headed back toward the house.
As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Brisbee put a comforting arm around her youngest son's shoulder. "I'm not really sure what to do, Timothy." She said, deciding that honesty was better than false bravado. "If you like, I'll let you stay up a little later than the other kids tonight so that we can talk to Dr. Ages about it. He might be willing to help you, if he's able."
The young rabbit smiled and nestled his head against his mother's shoulder. "Thank's mom." He whispered. After a few minutes of enjoying the sights and sounds of the field, Mrs. Brisbee said, "How 'bout we go in and get some lunch? The Doctor was making a wonderful smelling corn-and-bean porridge." Moments later, she and her adopted son were walking hand-in-hand toward the house, both with wide, happy smiles on their faces.
"He said WHAT?"
Jenner's voice echoed through the throne room like a peal of angry thunder. The merchant, wearing a white robe to cover the bandages on his wounds, knelt before his King and nervously repeated, verbatim, what Justin had told him to tell the lion &who; sat before him. "P-Please, your Majesty, I-I beg your mercy! Those are his words, not mine!" He stammered.
"Enough of your wimpering, idiot!" Jenner cried, exasperated at the blabbering fool in front of him. "I should take that whip to you myself! My ability to rule is on shaky enough ground as we speak! But to have my subjects revolt against me because a simple-minded pig wasn't willing to spend a few Talents to hire a few carriers from the local Sheriff?" Jenner gave the merchant a hard look. "Eustace," He said in a genuinely sad voice. "You have made me, your King, look the fool. Under my reign you could have profited handsomely from your connections to my court." The anger returned to his voice. "But I can't forgive this kind of sheer stupidity!" Jenner pointed a beringed finger at the boar. "I hereby sentence you to exile from my Kingdom! I also hereby confiscate all properties from you except for sufficient means to take whatever transportation is needed to carry out my sentence. Furthermore, this sentence is to be carried out within seven days, after which you will be executed on sight if you should ever set foot in my Kingdom during my reign." Eustace paled visibly, his lower lip trembling. "Count yourself fortunate that I am a merciful ruler, Eustace Scrubb!" Jenner said sternly. "You, at least, will live to see another day; even if it is in a foreign land."
At Sullivan's nod, four of the King's Guards advanced; two of them picking the unfortunate merchant up by his underarms with barely an effort, and the other two drawing their swords, showing the boar that they meant to carry out the King's order, and falling in behind the first two; and dragged him, pleading for Jenner to reconsider his judgment, away.
As soon as the fearful squealing had faded, Jenner motioned Sullivan to approach. Sullivan dismissed his Troop from the Throneroom and, as soon as the heavy iron-reinforced door was closed, joined his King.
"I'm always at your service, Your Majesty." He stated flatly. Jenner nodded and regarded his Captain-of-the-Guard. "Tell me, my friend," he said languidly. "Do you feel that I did the right thing?" Sullivan's eyes hardened as he said, "The pig was, as you said, an idiot. He really deserves to die for his crime, especially for using that whip!" Jenner sighed. "Yes, yes, I know. But I didn't ask you if I did the correct thing; I asked you if I did the right thing."
Sullivan arched an eyebrow, unsure where Jenner's line of &questioning; was supposed to be leading. Jenner caught the motion. "You see, my friend, if I appear to be too harsh with those who helped me to ascend to this Throne, I will surely lose their badly needed support before I can build a strong enough power‹base to let my rule sustain itself. If, on the other paw, I'm too lenient; my supporters will take that as a sign of weakness and I'll soon be relegated to no more than a figurehead, in which case, I might just as well be nothing more than the 'flea-bitten excuse for a throw-rug' that your bothersome predecessor described me as."
Sullivan nodded his understanding. He'd never had the patience or stomach for power politics that his King did, preferring instead the physical domination of a foe on the battlefield. But that did not mean that he didn't appreciate Jenner's talent for anticipating a problem and thinking out a solution, even if that solution proved lethal to Jenner's adversary."Don't worry, your Majesty, I'll find him." He said confidently.
Jenner's face darkened. "I'm sure you will. But I want a reward posted. A thousand crowns for his head, in a platter, at my feet!"
"Will that be all, your Majesty?" Sullivan asked.
"It's a start." Jenner sneered.
"I'm really not sure what to tell you, my boy." Dr. Ages said, leaning against the fireplace mantle.
Timothy had just told his mother, Ages and Jeremy about his nightmares over the past several weeks. His narratives had been very detailed and all three were amazed at how much he seemed to remember.
Ages began to nervously pace the room. "We've known for centuries," He began, as if lecturing to a group of medical academy students, "That certain rabbits, usually males, somehow acquire an ability to see into the future. It usually seems to run in families, although here have been exceptions, but since we have no way of tracing your family history I suppose that's a moot point. Usually this power, if you will, begins to manifest itself when the possessor reaches mating age; although I do remember one case in my early days where a six-year-old rabbit fell from a window in his home. He was not seriously injured, just a bump on the head that left him unconscious for a few minutes and required several stitches. A few days later, his mother told me that he dreamt that a ring lay buried in their garden and that, when they dug it up, they found that it belonged to a local Noblewoman who had lost it several years before when it fell from her finger during a coach ride. The rabbit was amply rewarded and began using his 'gift', as he called it, to find lost objects for a modest fee. Eventually, though, his gift began to fade and he had to live like a regular rabbit. I submitted a case study to my Medical Guild and forgot about it until now."
"Then it's possible that these nightmares won't last?" Mrs. Brisbee asked.
Ages shrugged. "I don't honestly know. Some cases seem to fade over time; others have been known to last until the death of the recipient."
Jeremy, who had been listening attentively, exclaimed, "The Gift of the Bards! That's what it is! Remember, many of the ancient singers were rabbits with the gift of prophecy!"
Ages thoughtfully rubbed the stubbly fur on his chin. "I never looked at it quite like that before, but it's too intriguing a theory to dismiss out of hand."
Mrs. Brisbee, a hint of frustration in her voice, said, "C'mon, you two, this is a little boy, my son, we're talking about! Not some medical experiment or museum artifact! My main concern is for his well-being!"
Timothy, who had been listening in silence, yawned and crawled across the couch to where his mother sat. He wriggled his head under her arm and lay his head on her lap and promptly fell asleep.
Jeremy snickered softly and said, in a professorial manner, "I do believe our learned colleague has rendered his considered opinion of our debate." Ages smiled and sighed. "My father always said that 'There's nothing like the simple wisdomof a child to make the most educated of us look like total fools.' I realize now exactly what he meant."
Mrs. Brisbee smiled and, as she gently picked up her youngest son, playfully chided them, whispering, "It's nice to know that even you two egotists can be taught a little humility." She then whispered her goodnights to them and crept silently up the stairs to the attic to put her son and herself to bed.
In the next several weeks, life settled into something approaching a routine. Mrs. Brisbee made herself responsible for the care and feeding of the household, much as she had done for the Royal Court; as much to keep her mind off of the death of Jonathan, as well as her worries about Justin's safety. But her sleep was often fitful and nerve-wracked and she had begun to take on a hollow-eyed look. Jeremy, in his own quirky manner, took care of the children; teaching them about both the joys and sorrows of peasant life. He taught them how to work in the garden; weeding, hoeing and gathering their food; and told them stories about his childhood and the great knights and bards who wandered ancient Britain; doing great deeds and rescuing fair damsels from the clutches of greedy dragons and singing romantic ballads of their heroism.
Dr. Ages, who went into the nearest villages almost every day, would bring back news of the rumors that were quickly spreading throughout the countryside. Each night after the children had been put to bed he, Jeremy and Mrs. Brisbee would sit in the living room in front of the dying embers of the fire and, over tea, try to determine what part of those rumors might have contained any actual fact.
Life during this time was not all hard work. During their free moments, Brisbee; using an old guitar that Dr. Ages bought at one of the village markets; taught Jeremy some of the finer points of musicianship. He was an enthusiastic student as well as a quick study, often mastering in hours techniques that had taken her days to learn.
One day Dr. Ages returned from his walk, much earlier than was his normal habit, with a beatific smile on his face. "I've got bad news and I've got excellent news!" He exclaimed as he led them to his usual chair in the livingroom. He sat down heavily in his seat. An anticipative hush decended on everyone. "First the bad news," he said with a childish glee. From out of a pocket of his robes he produced a large, folded piece of parchment. Ages unfolded it and cleared his throat. "By order of His Majesty, King Jenner," He began. "A reward of one thousand crowns is offered for the capture, dead or alive, of Justin, former Captain of the King's Guard."
The others in the room were shocked at both this news and the way that Ages made light of it. "That's terrible!" Mrs. Brisbee exclaimed. "Not really." Said a familiar voice. "Especially since I happen to be the one who came to break the excellent news." All eyes turned toward the open front door and the tall fox silhouetted in the bright sunlight.
"Justin!" Mrs. Brisbee exclaimed as she ran and lovingly embraced him. "Oh, Justin! I thought you might be dead!" She cried, tears of joy running down her cheeks. Justin smiled and wiped one away. "It'll take more than a thousand crowns and some order from that pretender to King Nicodemus's Throne to kill me." He reassured her.
By now the others in the room had gathered their wits and were crowding around him bombarding him with questions about where &he; had been and what he'd been doing during the time he'd been gone.
He raised his paws in surrender and exclaimed, "Whoa! Whoa! Please everybody, one at a time!"
"Yes," Interjected Ages, "How 'bout we go out back to discuss this. All of you can go ahead while I make some tea; he already told me most of it on our way here.
When they were all gathered outside, Mrs. Brisbee introduced Jeremy and told Justin the circumstances under which they met.
"I'm certainly glad that you decided to stay with her, even if her present predicament was indirectly responsible for your run-in with the Sheriff!." Justin told the rooster.
Jeremy smiled broadly and replied, "No problem! I'm used to spending my nights outside, although not usually thrown in with a free bath!" They all laughed at his clever turn of phrase.
"So where have you been?" Theresa asked. "Mom's been worried sick about you since you've been gone!"
Justin smiled at the rabbit's forthrightness. "I've been doing a bit of trouble-making!" He stage-whispered conspiratorially. He told them about his encounter with the merchant and his various other efforts to both sabotage Jenner's rule of the kingdom and try to prevent the more serious abuses of power by those friends of the new King who, figuring that they were now above the rule of law, tried to take advantage of animals poorer and less powerful than themselves. "But believe me, my Lady," He said, a sadness shading his eyes. "Not a day went by when I wasn't just as concerned about the safety of you and your children as you were for mine.
"Have you been able to hear any news from Londontown? What's going on in the court?" Mrs. Brisbee asked. Justin shook his head. "Jenner's got the City closed up tight." He replied, "It's been under a dusk-to-dawn curfew since just after we made our escape. Jenner's posted a permanent guard on all the major roads leading into and out of the City. As for King Nicodemus's court, all of his appointments have been stripped of their titles and had their lands confiscated and either been placed under house-arrest or are in prison awaiting trial for whatever charge Jenner can think to bring against them. He's also stripped the Ladies-of-the-Court of their titles and left them to whatever fate awaits them on the outside."
"But who will administer the affairs of the court? Someone has to keep the palace running!" Brisbee asked, worried about her &friends; many of whom she'd grown up with.
Justin shrugged helplessly. "Jenner seems to think that he can do the job himself. He's also fired about a third of the household staff and cut the pay of the rest. He's also issued a proclamation to the City that he expects all the alms-seekers and homeless animals to work in the fields, regardless of illness or family. He's threatened imprisonment for those who don't comply, no matter what their circumstance."
"That's Jenner. Efficiency to the point of cruelty." Observed Dr. Ages, who emerged from the house with a tray of fresh tea, as well as fruit juice for the children.
"It gets worse." Justin continued. "He's raising the taxes of everyone except his wealthy friends and the Sheriffs. He's also 'requested' that the Sheriffs put the alms-seekers and homeless to work in the fields of their Shires as he's done in the City."
"Well, at least that'll get those deadbeats out of the jails and into some more useful pursuits." Jeremy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"What about us?" Timothy asked. A hush descended upon the group.
After a long, thoughtful silence; Ages cleared his throat. "I believe that our best course for the moment," He began. "Would be to lay as low as possible. As long as we draw no attention to ourselves, we should be safe where we are. Justin can stay the night, but I'm going to have to find other quarters for you elsewhere in the morning in case someone discovers your whereabouts."
"Don't worry about me." Justin said, "I'm going back to the City tonight anyway. I have a meeting with some, uh, friends who aren't thrilled with the direction that Jenner is taking this country."
"Must you leave so soon?" Mrs. Brisbee asked. Although she never would have admitted it to anyone but herself, and even then only with the greatest reluctance, she felt a certain attraction to her late husband's friend. It was far stronger than just the adversities that they had suffered in the past several weeks, but she would have been hard-pressed to actually call it Love; at least in the romantic sense as she understood it.
"'Fraid so." He replied, giving no indication of having heard the emotion behind Mrs. Brisbee's question. "These are animals who love their freedoms as much as we do and need as much help and hope as I can possibly give them." He noticed the downcast look of her eyes. "Don't worry," He said gently. "I'll come back just as soon as I can."
Mrs. Brisbee nodded, but felt a wave of sadness wash over her. With Jonathan gone, only the children gave her life any real meaning. Her work around Ages' house, while it kept her somewhat occupied, certainly could not fill the huge void that still remained in her heart. She began to realize that Justin, who was probably feeling the same emptiness as she, had decided to fill it with hatred for Jenner and a desire to seek revenge against him. This thought saddened her all the more. For she knew that, in his true heart, Justin, even though he was a soldier, was a gentle, caring soul. "So much like Jonathan." She thought to herself.
"What about Jonathan?" Justin asked, a perplexed look on his face.
"Hm, what?" Mrs. Brisbee asked, as if awakening from a deep sleep.
"I was just telling everyone that I'll probably be back in about &a; week or so when you said something about your husband." His expression was now one of concern. "Are you sure you're alright?"
"Mommy's been having trouble sleeping lately." Cynthia said with a certain sadness in her voice. "She misses Daddy and wants him to come home. I miss Daddy a lot too."
Justin picked up Cynthia, who had toddled over to him, and placed her on his knee. "Well, Cynthia, Dr. Ages and I were good friends with your father and we miss him very much as well. Many people are having trouble sleeping because your father can't come home. But he's gone to a place where he can serve his King for the rest of time, something that he loved to do almost as much as he loved being your Daddy, and I'm sure that he misses you just as much as you miss him." This seemed to satisfy the little rabbit, who slid down from Justin's knee and ran to her mother and exclaimed, "Mommy, d'ja hear that? Daddy an' King Nicodemus are bes' friends f'rever now!"
"Yes, Honey, that's wonderful." She tried to sound enthusiastic, but her heart was breaking from the loneliness that she felt. She was beginning to understand why Justin had filled his inner void with hate and vengence against Jenner. To leave such a void unfilled was just so painful that, whether one wanted it to or not, the emptiness would eventually fill with something, anything, just so long as it was filled. Even if what filled it was as dark and destructive as what had caused the original emptiness in the first place.
After a while, Mrs. Brisbee lost interest in the conversation. She excused herself and went to the attic. There she broke down and gave way to the tears that she thought that she had cried away that first storm-tossed night.
Jenner regarded the piece of boiled carrot on his fork with disdain. This was not solely because it tasted bad. He never really liked vegetables. To his palate they were bland, unappetizing things no matter what was added to them to try to make them tolerable. No, Jenner craved meat. He knew that this was wrong. One animal had not eaten another since... But even today, as in the days of his misspent youth, he fantasized about killing something, a small rabbit or a day-old chick, and devouring its living flesh. He wondered what it would taste like to chew a properly broiled rabbit's heart...
Suddenly, the door to his private dining room burst open. "Your Majesty! I bring news! I think you should hear this!" It was Sullivan.
Jenner glared at him coldly. "This better be worth it." He growled; his left eye twitching, a nervous tic that he had developed in the past few weeks.
"Your Majesty, Justin was seen just hours ago in Leicestershire. One of the Sheriff's Deputies saw him walking with an old white badger..."
Jenner threw down the fork and stood and slammed his paws down on the tabletop, leaning forward as if ready to climb over it to throttle Sullivan. "BADGER?" He screamed.
"Y-Yes, your Majesty. Wh-White as new-fallen snow according to the Deputy; didn't even have eyestripes!" Sullivan stammered, unnerved by Jenner's loss of control.
"AGES! DAMN HIS MISERABLE HIDE! I should have killed that mange-ridden quack the day that he left the City! I could have made it look like a highway robbery attempt gone bad, but noooo! The others said 'Don't bother with him, Jenner.' or 'He's harmless now, Jenner.' and, idiot that I was, I actually LISTENED to them!" He picked up the fork and plunged it deep into the polished wood tabletop. "I KNEW that he was the mind behind Jonathan Brisbee and Justin's efforts to stand between me and the Crown!" Jenner's eyes began to develop the demonic cast that they had shown a few weeks earlier on the overlook. "Take your Troop and force-march them to his house! If you start right now, you can be there sometime after midnight. I want him cap...No! I want him, Justin and the Brisbees DEAD! I want his house burned to the ground! I don't want one stone standing on another! We can always dig the Amulet out of whatever's left!"
"But the Brisbee children!" Sullivan exclaimed nervously. He knew that he was a less-than-ideal soldier, but he certainly was not a child-killing monster.
"I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE BRISBEE CHILDREN! You either bring me back their corpses or I'll find someone who will! Remember, you're just as far up to your neck in this whole sordid affair as I am; so if I go down, my friend, SO DO YOU! Now get out!"
Sullivan bowed and made a hasty exit, glad to get away from this mad beast. He didn't relish what Jenner was becoming, but he realized that, for better or worse, he had hitched his wagon to Jenner's brightly burning star. The problem was that such stars tended to violentlyself-destruct, often obliterating other planetary bodies in their orbit. And, he realized to his dismay, his proximity of orbit was perilously close to Jenner. Sooner or later, he decided, he would have to realign his position in relation to the new King. But, then again, moving the heavens above might be a simple task compared to this. "After all," He thought gloomily, "The heavens above can't slice my throat open."
Jenner, meanwhile, gleefully contemplated his impending victory over those who had made his life so miserable these past several years. Perhaps he would, metaphorically at least, taste broiled rabbit-heart after all.
The jumble of imagery was so disorienting. Bits and pieces of her life popped in and out of focus like the viewing wall of some demented Camera Obscura. Here and there she would catch a glimpse of Jonathan. But when she tried to call out to him, she couldn't seem to catch her breath. Justin appeared every so often as well, but there was something different about him, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Gradually, she began to hear music; an old dance tune, a Waltz, that she &remembered; hearing at one of the Royal Balls that she attended when she was still a Lady-of-the-Court. Her surroundings also began to resolve themselves into focus. She was in the Main Hall of the castle, surrounded by hundreds of other animals. She looked down and saw that, instead of her beautiful wedding gown, she was wearing just an old, tattered travelling cape and her new husband's Amulet; but for some reason, nobody else seemed to notice this. She also realized that her dancing partner was.... was... He was a fox, that much she could tell. But he was like no other fox she had ever seen. He seemed to share features of both her new husband and one of the Troop-Captains in King Nicodemus's Guard. She wanted to ask him who he was, but the words wouldn't come out of her mouth. He put a finger to his mouth to shush her. He had the saddest, most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen and this, for some reason, made her want to cry. But suddenly, her surroundings began to crack and fall apart like a slowly breaking mirror. She also realized with a strange disinterest that her dancing partner was quickly assuming a more lion-like form, his eyes transforming from empathic sadness to blazing hatred. "...ommy, wake up!" She heard a voice calling from far away. But now her dance partner had completed his transformation into the King's adopted brother; the Prince Regent, Jenner. "Mom! Please! Wake up NOW!" The voice, like that of a young child, insisted. But the Prince Regent now had his paws clamped firmly around her throat and was squeezing harder and harder. She could feel various muscles, ligaments and blood vessels in her neck pop or rupture as he kept squeezing; but for some reason, she had no desire to fight his efforts to violently end her existence. "Mommy! Wake UP!" Prince Jenner's eyes blazed with an insane fury as he screamed, "NO! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"
Mrs. Brisbee awoke with a start, bathed in sweat and gasping for air. Timothy was next to herbed, urgently shaking her shoulder. She tried to ask her son what was wrong, but something was choking her. She then tried to raise herself from her bed, but felt something thin around her neck holding her down to the mattress. She brought her paw to her neck and realized that she had worn the Amulet to bed instead of hanging it on its usual wooden peg on the wall next to her bed. She felt down the length of the slender chain and found that it had caught on a small nail embedded in the frame of the bed that Jeremy and Dr. Ages had brought from an abandoned inn the day after they had come seeking his help.
She twisted the chain off of the nail and sat up. "What's the matter, Honey, what're you doing out of bed?" She asked, fully awake now.
Timothy grabbed one of her paws and almost dragged her to a large window that looked out onto the meadow. "Over there! Just beyond the treeline!" He whispered excitedly.
Along the treeline at the far edge of the meadow, a group of flickering lights could be seen blinking in and out of sight among the trees just inside the forest. At first, Mrs. Brisbee's mind told her that it was simply fireflies. But she instantly realized that instead of the cool yellow-green that the nocturnal insects used to attract their mates, these lights glowed the red-yellow-blue of hot flame. She turned to her son and said, "Wake your brother and sisters and Jeremy and tell them to gather all our things as quickly as possible and take them and the hand cart to the clearing near the old root cellar! Hurry!" She grabbed her cape from the foot of her bed and started down the stairs. She stopped when she heard a pounding at the front door.
"Lady Marian! Jeremy! Dr. Ages! Wake up! You've got to get out of there!" It was Justin's voice.
Mrs. Brisbee ran the rest of the way to the door and flung it open. "Justin?" She exclaimed, "I thought you were going back to the City!"
"Change of plans!" he said as he swerved around her and headed for the back stairway that led directly to Dr. Ages bedroom. "C'mon! Wake up you old goat!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Jenner's found us and his boys aren't comin' to deliver party invitations!"
Ages' door flew open and he waddled out. "How in thunder did that happen? Who could have told him?" He demanded, grabbing a pile of papers and books off of his desk. Justin grabbed them back out of his hands and tossed them back on the desk. Ages was agast. "But I need those for my studies!" He shouted indignantly. Justin grabbed Ages by the scruff of his collar and said in his most commanding voice, "There are animals out there trying to KILL us! We have to leave NOW!" He made a snap decision. "You can bring two books with you, but that'sall!" Ages, realizing that Justin would brook no argument, went to his bookshelf and removed a pair of ancient, identical volumes. He let himself be taken by the hand by Mrs. Brisbee like a child being reluctantly led to his first day of school. "Get him to the basement." Justin ordered. "I'll get the children."
"No need!" Shouted Jeremy as he ran in the house from the still open front door. "They're right where we planned!"
"Good!" Said Justin as he herded Ages and Brisbee down the basement stairs. "Jeremy! How close are they?"
Jeremy ran to a rear-facing window. What he saw turned his stomach. "They're almost here!" All of a sudden, one of the fires broke quickly away from the others and described a long arc until it disappeared from view; the sound of a breaking window coming from somewhere above. "Heads up, you guys! Fire in the Hole!" He shouted. He was about to turn around and head for the basement door, when an arrow slammed through the window just inches from his head and buried itself in the opposite wall.
Justin, meanwhile, had led Brisbee and Ages to the foundation wall that faced closest to the road. He felt quickly along a certain area until he found a group of stones that had no mortar between them. He then grabbed one of the stones at the bottom of the group and gave a hard tug. All the stones fell to his feet, revealing a large wood panel with a horizontal bar set above it. Justin grabbed the bar with both paws and swung himself up then forward, kicking the thin wood to splinters. He then pointed into the darkness and said, "Just keep going until you come to another panel like this one and kick it hard, it's hinged to open downward, then just go straight to the opposite wall and climb the ladder; then take a step to your right and you'll &feel; solid ground. The door of the root cellar will be right in front of you." Mrs. Brisbee swallowed, nodded and climbed into the tunnel, Dr. Ages close at her heels.
"Jeremy, how fast're they coming?" Justin yelled.
"Medium!" Jeremy answered, then thought better of it as he saw the torchlights relentless approach. "Uh, make that fast; VERY fast!" Just then a line of small flames made the arc from the main group to the house. "INCOMING!" He screamed as he heard them hit various parts of the structure.
Justin ran to the bottom of the stairs. "Okay, Jeremy, we're outta here!"
"Best suggestion I've heard all night!" The rooster said as he sprinted for the basement door. But when he got to the threshold, he lost his footing and tumbled down the stairway; landing in a flurry of fur and feathers on the startled fox.
"Are you alright?" Justin asked him as he began to disentangle himself from the dazed bird.
"No problem." Jeremy groaned. "I meant to do that."
Justin smiled as he hauled Jeremy to his feet and started dragging him to the escape tunnel."Birdbrain." He said
"Hey! I resemble that remark!" Jeremy replied in mock-irritation as they reached the tunnel and began to crawl inside.
They made their way as quickly as possible along the smooth floored interior. The walls and vaulted ceiling were only just high enough for them to crawl under. By now, both of them could smell the acrid smoke of the inferno behind them.
Justin, who was in the front, could see a faint light ahead. "Lady Marian? Dr. Ages?" He called out, increasing his crawl speed.
"Here! Justin! Come quickly!" Brisbee's voice echoed down the tunnel.
In moments they reached the source of her voice. She was holding one of Dr. Ages paws and, through tears of her own, whispering soothing words into his ear. Directly above, part of the ceiling had collapsed on him, trapping him from the waist down; a particularly large stone lay on his left leg, which was cocked at a peculiar angle. Martin and Theresa, who had somehow found the tunnel, were clearing as much debris away as they could by the light of a small lantern.
"This isn't the worst of it!" Martin exclaimed as he threw another handful of dirt to the rear. "Timothy's missing! Cynthia says he ran back to the house and never returned!"
Justin started to turn around, but Jeremy held him back. "Whoa, Whoa! Where d'ya think you're goin' soldier-boy? I'll get the kid, you take care of the 'rock of Ages'!"
"You sure?" Justin asked, desperation in his voice.
Jeremy smiled, winked and said, "Trust me." He then turned himself around and started back for the house.
"Good luck!" Justin called out after him.
"Not on my best day!" Jeremy replied.
Justin turned his attention to the predicament at hand. He first tried to roll the stone off of Ages leg, but it was so large and heavy that it wouldn't budge in the tiny space of the tunnel. Then he tried to slide it off, but this only elicited an agonized scream from the old badger. "Martin, I need your help." he said. Martin stopped his digging. Justin pointed toward the rootcellar end of the tunnel. "Go get my sword from the cart as fast as you possibly can." Without a word, Martin was scrambling down the tunnel. By now, the tunnel was starting to fill with fumes and thick gray smoke, whisps of which cast shadows on the stone wall in front of the lantern, and both Theresa and her mother were starting to cough and wheeze as their lungs filled with it. "Keep as close to the floor as you can," he told them calmly, D"There's enough air down there to breath and I'm going to need all of you to help me. Martin was now within earshot dragging the sword behind him, the metallic scrape of the blade ringing through the tunnel. The rabbit quickly handed the implement to Justin, who selected a smaller rock and expertly placed the blade to use as a lever. "Now, when I lift the stone, I want you to drag Ages out from under it and just keep going."
"But what about you?" Mrs. Brisbee asked.
"Never mind me." He told her. "I've got to go and help a friend. Are you ready?"
Mrs. Brisbee nodded.
Justin threw himself against the hilt of his sword. At first the rock wouldn't budge, but then he felt an almost imperceptible movement. He let his muscles go slack for a few moments and ducked under the thick veil of smoke that filled the tunnel. "Okay, one more time!" He said, his eyes watering. "Ready? Now!" Again, he shoved down on the hilt. This time, the rock lifted. Justin could hear the Brisbees dragging Ages clear of the rock and away from him. He then released his weight from the sword and let it clatter to the floor, exhausted from his efforts.
In the house, Timothy lay under Cynthia's bed; surrounded by the conflagration. He had come back at the last moment when he realized that his sister had dropped her new doll beside her bed in the rush to leave. He'd found himself trapped in the attic when the first flaming arrows crashed through the second-floor windows, igniting all of the rooms underneath. Now, clutching the little cloth rabbit to his chest, he was frightened. Even more frightened than when he thought that he would die of that sickness that had made it so hard for him to breathe all those months ago last Winter. But this fire not only made it hard to breathe, it was also so hot! Even his fever during the sickness hadn't made him feel this bad! All of a sudden, he thought he heard something over the roar and crackle of the flames. He listened harder. "TIMOTHY!" Yes, he heard it that time! "UP HERE! I'M UP HERE! IN THE ATTIC!"
"KEEP YELLING!" The voice ordered.
Timothy screamed as loud as he could, even as the heat and smoke seared his throat and lungs. From under the bed he saw the door to the room burst inward, shattering into a thousand sparking, flaming splinters. "JEREMY! I'M OVER HERE!" He yelled with what felt like his last breath. Jeremy dived over the jagged, glowing embers that were once the frame of the door and rolled himself along the floor to Cynthia's bed. He groped above him and, when he felt what he was after, gave a mighty tug and Cynthia's mattress tumbled to the floor, smoking slightly but still intact. He then stripped the blanket and sheets off and began to wrap the young rabbit in them. "This ride's gonna get a bit rough." he said calmly. "Just relax and let me do the work." Jeremy rolled himself onto his back and then rolled Timothy face down onto his own chest. He then grabbed a corner of the mattress, which was so hot that it had already begun to smoke, and slid it on top of himself and Timothy. Then; using his heel-spurs, back and wings; he began inch-worming his way to the door.
When he reached the door, he turned himself to face it and kicked what was left of the burning frame out of the way, ignoring the pain as the burning wood seared the soles of his feet. He then resumed his slow, upward-facing crawl into the short hallway. He had cleared the room by only a few feet when he heard an enormous roar and, chancing a quick peek, saw the entire room collapse in upon itself. He gulped back the bitter tasting bile that tried to well up into his throat and made his way to the top of the stairs.
He then shifted Timothy to one side of his body and, using the free wing, slid the mattress over his head, feeling it bounce down the stairs. As quickly as he could, ignoring the heat and pain, he stood up and ran down the stairs and through the second and first floors; the smoke and fumes blinding and choking him. Just when he felt that he would collapse from pain and exhaustion, a pair of arms grabbed the bundle from his, grabbed his collar, and half-guided, half-dragged him down some stairs, through a smoky room, and shoved him into a hole in what must have been the wall.
He began to crawl blindly along the tunnel, although he couldn't tell whether he was blind because of the smoke, a lack of light or his eyes had been burned out of their sockets. He was also being racked by fits of coughing and dry-heaves as his lungs tried to expel the noxious fumes but could only seem to get more.
He soon bumped into a large rock and, under one wing, felt the hilt of a sword, which he grabbed, and continued his crawl through the tunnel. He could also feel a wet, sticky substance tracing a thin line down one edge.
After what seemed like hours, the tunnel floor suddenly disappeared and Jeremy tumbled to another, slightly softer, surface. Seconds later, something furry fell on him.
"We gotta stop meeting like this!" He gasped, his lungs greedily taking in the relatively clean air.
"Ladder!" Justin gasped. "Get...up...ladder!"
Jeremy crawled to where he thought the ladder should be and grabbed at where he thought the lowest rung was located. He found it, took a deep breath, and, using every bit of what little strength he had left, began pulling himself up rung-by-rung, keeping a death-grip on the sword.
He knew he'd reached the top when he ran out of rungs and his head hit a firm surface. He felt around with his foot for the floor and when he found it, stepped to the right (they had all been told about the escape tunnel during lunch on their first day with Ages) and collapsed into the waiting arms of Martin and Theresa; who dragged him to the handcart and sat him against a wheel.
Moments later Justin, still carrying the bundle that contained Timothy, was brought over and sat down next to him. Mrs. Brisbee tenderly unwrapped the blackened, ash-covered pieces of cloth to reveal the tiny cargo inside. At first, he looked as if he was in a deep, peaceful slumber. But then he let out a small cough and, opening one eye, asked in a weak voice, "Did we make it yet?"
Jeremy smiled through his pain and exhaustion. "Yeah, kid." He croaked hoarsely. "We made it."
Mrs. Brisbee then gathered Timothy in her arms and tearfully asked, "Oh, Timothy, you foolish boy! Whatever possessed you to go back to the house?"
He pushed aside the covering and produced the doll. "Cynthia dropped this. I knew that she'd be sad if it'd been left behind." He said feebly.
Justin and Jeremy's jaws dropped and they stared at each other in shock for several seconds. Then they began to roar with uncontrolled laughter, hacking and wheezing intermittently. After they had run out of breath, Justin looked at Jeremy with an arched eyebrow. Jeremy looked at the peculiar expression. "What!" He demanded, panting for breath. "Y'know," Said the fox; who was covered head-to-toe with soot and had several patches of fur burned off, showing blistered skin and was also trying to catch his breath. "You oughtta...get out...of the...Bard business...you make...a pretty...decent...Hero type!
Jeremy shook his head firmly. "What?...An' give up...showbiz?...An' besides...you...so-called...'Hero types'...got no...dental plan!"
Justin tried to laugh again, but his sides hurt so much that he could barely chuckle.
After they had rested and caught their breaths, they pulled themselves to their feet and Justin examined Jeremy's injuries. Unlike the few relatively small burns that Justin had sustained, Jeremy was in much worse shape. Aside from the burns on his feet, he had large areas of scorched feathers and blistered skin on his comb, neck, back and wings and his tail pin-feathers had been burned off almost to the skin. What was left of the once-elegant costume hung in tatters from his burned and battered body. This alarmed Justin, who took a blanket from the handcart; carefully so as not to wake the unconscious Dr. Ages; and ordered Martin and Theresa, over the rooster's protestations, to carefully strip him down and remove as much debris from his skin as possible. He then told Mrs. Brisbee to wrap Jeremy in as many blankets as could be spared from the cart and place him next to Ages.
He then began to see to The Doctor's injured leg. He could immediately see that it had been broken just below the knee and hastily wrapped in a now blood-soaked sheet. As quickly and delicately as possible, he removed the improvised bandage and discarded it. He then examined the open wound by the dim light of the overhead lantern. "How bad is it?" Mrs. Brisbee asked, the stress and worry in her voice quite palpable. "Well; I'm no doctor, you realize; but he doesn't seem to have damaged any majorblood vessels, otherwise he'd still be bleeding, and he doesn't have a compound fracture, no bone sticking out of the wound, and I can't see any major swelling..."
"Set it." came a voice that sounded as if it had come from the grave.
"Ages, you're awake!" Justin exclaimed.
"Set the bone." He groaned. "Otherwise it'll never heal properly."
"It's gonna hurt." Justin warned.
"It hurts now!" Said the badger through gritted teeth.
Justin felt gingerly under the leg and found the break. He then had Mrs. Brisbee quickly lift Ages upper leg slightly and rotated the small stump of bone upward as he pulled the lower portion toward him. The two halves slid easily onto each other and fit perfectly.
Ages released the breath that he'd taken and moaned softly.
Martin and Theresa now returned with Jeremy, who was plucked almost bare. Justin told Martin to find the necessary materials to fashion a splint and help his sister fashion a cast. He then helped Mrs. Brisbee wrap Jeremy, who was already starting to go into shock and shivering even though the night was warm, in several blankets and laid him in the cart next to Dr. Ages. He then had Brisbee thread a needle and expertly sewed the wound on Ages leg shut. "It'll leave quite a scar." He told the badger. Ages harrumphed and said, "I have plenty of those, my boy! One more's not gonna bother me.
After a cast was placed on Ages leg and both he and Jeremy were made as comfortable as circumstance would permit, Justin went to the edge of the wood and scouted out what was left of the house.
Not much, it turned out. In the first glimmerings of dawn, he could see that the house had burned to its foundation. Several King’s Guards were picking around the edges of the still-smoldering ruin and, in the distance, his sharp eyes could see a familiar figure speaking to several other Guards.
"So, Sullivan," He snarled aloud, "You've graduated from mere conspiracy and assassination to arson and attempted child killing. Just remember this you worm-ridden bastard! I'll kill you if I have to rise from the grave to do so!" He then turned and ran back to the rest of the group. He took his place next to Mrs. Brisbee behind the pushbar of the cart and said quietly, "Let's move." They picked up the cart and started a sad, slow walk; followed by Theresa, who carried a freshly wrapped Timothy, and Martin, who led a quiet, subdued Cynthia; toward whatever future awaited them.
"Escaped? How could they have escaped?" Jenner growled through gritted teeth.
Sullivan had given up on trying to please his King and simply recited the facts of the matter. "We found a tunnel that led into the surrounding forest. About a quarter of the way in, we found a collapsed section and a blood-trail leading to the exit. Near the exit we also found a pile of discarded clothes and feathers, both pretty charred, as well as a blood-soaked sheet."
Jenner pondered this information, agitatedly rubbing his dark beard. "We've hurt them." He whispered.
"Your Majesty?" Sullivan asked.
"I said 'We've hurt them'." Jenner stated. "Even if they did manage to escape they can't possibly lick their wounds, so to speak, quickly enough to disrupt my plans for the near future." He then chortled with glee. "Have the reward for Justin's capture raised to five thousand crowns. And put a price of one thousand crowns each on the heads of the Brisbee family and Dr. Ages; alive or dead, it doesn't make any difference."
Sullivan nodded and left the throneroom after Jenner dismissed him with a wave of his paw.
"Now who's got who by the throat?" Jenner asked aloud to the silent stone walls of the castle.
The walls remained silent as his laughter echoed and faded away.
The Sheriff of Nottingham was more than a little peeved by this turn of events. Brutus considered himself to be, in his not-so-humble opinion, one of the best quarterstaff fighters in the entire Kingdom of Britain. In fact, he had shelf after shelf of awards of all types to prove it. But here he was, facing off against a young gray fox with the improbable name of Will Scarlet, literally getting his tail kicked!
"Aha!" The youth shouted as his foot landed on the bear's ample hind parts. The kick had no real force behind it and, in any event, Brutus towered over his opponent to such an extent that the bear probably wouldn't even have felt it if it had.
Brutus quickly swept his 'staff downward in an attempt to catch his adversary behind the knees and knock him on his back. The fox effortlessly executed a standing backflip, landing on his feet in almost the same place where he'd stood just a moment before, and then paw-sprung backward out of the range of Brutus's 'staff.
"Alright, hold it, hold it!" Brutus ordered, leaning on the 'staff. The fox stood still, an expectant smile on his face. "First of all, where the heck did you learn that stuff? Y'know, the...the..."
"Acr'batics?" The fox asked, a humorous twinkle in his eye.
"Yeah!" Brutus said, amazed by what he'd just seen.
The fox sat down cross-legged on the grass of the field where he'd been practicing his exercise drills. "My mum an'dad were acr'bats in a circus until the Plague came along an' shut it all down. They took t' farmin' t' keep theirselves fed an' all, but taught us kids a thing 'r two 'bout th' life." He then rolled himself backward and brought himself to a one-armed pawstand.
The Sheriff gaped wordlessly at the lad. Normally, members of his species were very shy and retiring; almost to the point of reclusiveness; seeming to prefer the least inhabited corners of Britain and often living in segregated communities because of persecution by other animals, though the reasons for this had been lost to time. The Sheriff himself held no such prejudices; figuring that so long as one broke no laws and paid ones taxes, one had the right to be as sociable or reclusive as one desired.
The fox held his pawstand for an incredibly long time, then lowered his other one and did a standing pawspring to his feet.
As the fox gathered his clothes from a pile on a nearby rock, the Sheriff said, "Well, I don't know of any circuses in these parts. In fact, I'm not sure there're gonna be any more circuses at all if our new King has his way."
The fox stopped dressing and turned to face the Sheriff, his expression now serious. "Wot d'ya mean?" He said.
The Sheriff looked surprised. "You haven't heard?" He asked.
"‘eard wot?" The fox demanded. "You're th' first bloke I've seen in these parts in days!" He explained.
Brutus shrugged. "King Jenner has decreed that all Fairs and Festivals are cancelled as of a week ago. He said that all animals who didn't already have a useful occupation needed to be at work in the fields growing their daily bread."
Will Scarlet was astounded by this news. "Bu' wot 'bout havin' some fun? Life's not worth livin' if y' can't have fun while you're livin' it, at least that's wot my daddy use' t' tell me; 'e did!"
Brutus shifted his feet uncomfortably. When he'd helped to bring Jenner to power by not interfering with the Prince Regent's plans to seize the throne and his adopted brother's crown, he had not suspected that Jenner would favor murder as his primary method. And when he'd received the order to arrest that mother fox and her four adopted kids he'd had to drink himself into a near stupor in order to gather the courage to do so. In fact; he still couldn't remember much of what had happened that night, although his Deputies kept jabbering behind his back about something involving a minstrel singer and a mud-pit. But yesterday he'd found out that a Troop of the Kings Guard had attacked and burned the house of that harmless old coot, Dr. Ages, the night before. Unfortunately, that incident had occurred in the next Shire where he had no jurisdiction; otherwise he'd have given the new King an earful on respecting one's &constituents.; And just this morning, the daily courier dispatch had delivered an edict that both Ages and that mother fox were now wanted on charges of sedition and treason to the Crown. This had all just been too much to comprehend. He'd told the Deputy-in-Charge that he would be out on a short hike for the rest of the morning and not to expect him back until around lunchtime. After walking aimlessly about for a while, he was headed back for town when he saw a most amazing thing. A small gray fox was doing various flips and pawsprings over rocks, logs and other obstacles. After watching silently for several minutes, the lad noticed his audience of one and introduced himself. He also noticed the quarterstaff that Brutus carried with him at all times and proposed a game where he, Will Scarlet, would, using only his skill, would try to touch any part of the Sheriff's body while the Sheriff tried to knock Scarlet down with his 'staff. But, of course, the young fox had been much too quick even for the Sheriff.
But now Brutus uneasily brought himself back to the present, not wanting to face the fact that he had, however unwittingly or even unwillingly, been at least partially responsible for the death of a good King and his Chancellor and had helped to put a murderer on the Throne of Britain. He shrugged his massive shoulders, not knowing what to tell this lad.
Will Scarlet finished dressing himself. He had decided that as a subject of the Crown he would go to Londontown and seek an audience with his Sovereign and explain to him that; while work was not a bad thing in and of itself, it was certainly a bad thing by itself if not relieved by a bit of fun once in a while.
Scarlet bade the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire farewell and made off for the City, whistling a happy tune that his father had taught him long ago.
Brutus returned the wave and watched the lad leave with a sadness in his heart. "Ah, to be that young and free of spirit." The bear thought to himself. But, whether he liked it or not, he had sworn himself to the service of an unstable Ruler and he had a feeling that he would probably end up paying a dreadful price for this choice.
The past three days had been the most taxing that Justin had ever spent. While Mrs. Brisbee, as she now preferred to be called, managed to help him tend to both Dr. Ages and Jeremy's injuries even as she looked after her children; he had spent most of the time either pulling the cart or giving aid to its occupants. Ages was actually doing rather well. He had come down with a slight fever during the second day of travel, but this had broken after he had been given some of the ginger-pepper-willow tea that he favored. Jeremy, however, was a different story altogether. Even wrapped in layer upon layer of sheets and blankets in these warm mid-Summer days the badly burned rooster shivered with his own fever, slipping in and out of consciousness or; worse yet; going into shock accompanied by delirium; either screaming in unbearable pain or giving way to fits of uncontrolled hysterical laughter, as if unaware of hisimmediate surroundings or situation. He tried to rest the group at least one hour out of every four, by his best estimate, but other than the occasional short nap he'd been able to get no real sleep and, while his physical reserves still seemed rather strong; his mind was beginning to rebel, reacting more slowly and indecisively to this or that situation or flashing back to the collapse of the wall that killed King Nicodemus and Sir Jonathan. In fact, the only real respite had come early that morning when they had come to a small creek and gotten a chance to drink and bathe in the cool, clear water; Mrs. Brisbee finally getting a chance to drain and bandage Justin's own burns. She had also helped him change Dr. Ages bandage and cast and bathe poor Jeremy, who'd had to be carried like a small child because of the condition of his feet.
But now, in the waning daylight of the late afternoon, Justin was feeling more tired than he ever had in his life. Even now his mind seemed to be playing a cruel joke; he could have sworn that he recognized the small group of trees that stood at the divide of the road up ahead. He blinked twice and looked again, focusing all of whatever was left of his will toward remembering a certain landmark from his long-forgotten childhood.
"That's it." He whispered as the realization struck him so suddenly that Mrs. Brisbee was nearly thrown into the pushbar when he stopped dead.
"What're we stopping for?" Brisbee asked, a look of hollow-eyed annoyance on her face. She had not gotten much sleep over these past days either and the stress of caring for Justin, Jeremy, Ages and her own children had taken a very visible toll on her.
Justin pointed to the group of trees and said, "That road, the one going to the right, leads to my parent's cottage! If we don't make anymore stops along the way, we can make it there by sometime after sundown!" The children, who had said almost nothing since the fire, let out a collective groan.
Ages, who had been asleep, exclaimed, "No, he's right! The cottage is just a few miles away! We're already well inside Sherwood Forest!"
"Well I hope you two are right!" Mrs. Brisbee said coarsely, picking up the pushbar and resuming the cart's slow progress. "I'm not sure just how much longer the children and I can keep going!"
Justin smiled weakly. "Please, Marian," He implored her, "Trust me. I grew up here. The forests of Sherwood have been my home for as long as I can remember. Their trees are as familiar to me as the castle is to you. The rivers run through my own veins as much as they run along their banks."
A smile came to Mrs. Brisbee's own face for the first time in many days. "Why, Justin!" She said coyly, "I didn't know that you had the air of the poet about you!"
"I don't, really." He said, a faraway look in his eyes. "But no matter how long I'm gone or how far away I am, I always feel that; somehow; this place and I are meant to be one with each other." He then cupped one paw under her chin, brought her eyes up to meet his and whispered, "Just as you and Jonathan were."
Mrs. Brisbee tried to blink back the tear that had formed at the corner of her eye, but it fell to the dusty road as she slowly nodded her understanding of what Justin meant. The moment passed far more quickly than either of them would have liked; after which, they bent to their shared task with a renewed vigor.
Many hours later, to the accompaniment of a chorus of chirruping crickets and croaking frogs, Justin opened the bolt of the heavy wooden door of a large stone-and-wood cottage. He directed the children to a closet where he thought some blankets might still be stored. He sent Mrs. Brisbee to the kitchen to look for some candles or a lamp. He then carried both Jeremy and Dr. Ages to his adoptive parents room and one of his adoptive brothers rooms, respectively.
The children did indeed find a number of old quilts; and by dim candlelight Justin, crying tears of both joy and sadness as childhood memories surfaced through the haze of his present exhaustion, recognized and identified by name the adoptive brother, sister or cousin to whom each one had belonged those many years ago. They were distributed among the group as Justin assigned beds to each member, giving a brief but loving description of the member of the family who had originally slept there.
At last all was quiet once again, the Brisbee family sharing a large children's bedroom; for Justin had explained that there could be as many as fifteen of his adoptive siblings and younger relatives sleeping in the room at any one time; while Justin took his adoptive father's bed next to Jeremy, the better to keep tabs on his unstable condition.
Will Scarlet had heard much about the sights and sounds of Londontown over the years as he was growing up. His parents had, before the Plague struck, performed many times in the City, as it was more popularly called, with the Circus to which they had belonged. They had regaled him and his brothers and sisters with tales of life in the travelling shows of old and performances before the King of Britain and various Crowned Heads of the Continental Empires.
But soon, for reasons that nobody knew even to this day, war broke out among the various kingdoms of Continental Europe. Heads of State turned against other Heads of State, even though the two might be cousins or, worse yet, brothers. Vicious battles were fought and sometimes won, but more often lost by both sides as thousands upon thousands of soldiers slaughtered first one another; then, in the throes of an unquenchable and uncontrollable bloodlust, commenced to slaughtering, pillaging and raping whatever populace happened to be within reach of these earthly demons.
After the battles had collapsed under their own weight, the &dead; were often left unburied for periods of up to several weeks. The rotting flesh seeped into the water during the rains or gave refuge to other diseases; alternatively, when the corpses were cleared from a field of battle, the fleas that had infested the dead soldiers, who often lived in extremely poor sanitary conditions because the governments of the various warring nations were usually too corrupt and averse to spending the extra gold or silver piece to give them decent living conditions, jumped from their now dead and often diseased old hosts onto a new one. As the carnage progressed through the countryside, many refugees, wishing to escape this bloodsoaked madness, went to other villages, towns, cities or countries.
This spread and expanded the group of small diseases and sicknesses, usually treatable individually, into an all-consuming Plague which; while a single battle in the war might result in the loss of a few thousand lives depending on the number of troops involved and the number of "collateral casualties", as the War Leaders politely called whoever else besides their own troops who just happened to be on the battlefield at the time; in just days could depopulate whole swaths of land, leaving no one to harvest those crops that had not already been destroyed or stolen by rampaging bands of stateless renegades. This, of course, had led to a massive famine which had led to even more war as populations now fought over food rather than ideology.
Eventually refugees, finding no safety on the Continent, began flooding, legally or not, onto Britain's shores; often bringing with them the same bodily, political and ideological pollution that had destroyed their previous homes and cost not a few of them relatives, close friends or even a body part or two.
And so the Plague began to sweep through Britain with the same overwhelming force that had reduced most of Europe to anarchy. The animals had known the flea since time immemorial, but these new fleas from the Continent carried a disease that seemed to defy all attempts to treat or cure it.
It took several years and many more lives; but eventually the wars and sicknesses ran their lethal, interweaving course. The dead were buried or burned and, while there was still the occasional isolated outbreak or individual death attributable to the Plague, life returned to something approaching normal.
But that had been years and years ago, even before Will had been born. The only reason that his parents had decided not to return to the performing life was their advanced years and the fact that they were actually somewhat comfortable in their chosen agricultural pursuits. But Will had always known that he wanted to be a circus acrobat and his parents had gladly taken the time to pass this part of their lives on to him, spending as much as possible coaching him in the finer points of tumbling, juggling and even some tightrope and trapeze skills. His father had even given him one of his old costumes, a garish ensemble of black-fluted dark red velvet consisting of pantaloons, tunic, vest, waistcoat and a beret topped with a large red feather.
When he'd entered the city gates he could not help but notice how tense and downcast the residents were. Many scowled at him or stared in disbelief at his colorful clothing, at least he assumed that it was his clothing; because all but a few &passers-by; wore mostly drab, threadbare, even ragged clothes. As he walked down various avenues, some animals would give him a suspicious glance or try to avoid eye-contact altogether while mothers would pull their children to them a little harder than was necessary and hurry away to whatever supposed errand brought them out onto the streets. Several times he'd tried to ask soldiers, who seemed to be wherever one looked, directions to the Royal residence but was answered only by silence and an icy stare.
When he did finally find the castle, it was early afternoon and he'd had to use his wily youthful charms to convince the King's Scribe to grant him a short audience with His Majesty before the afternoon's regular appointment schedule began.
He was escorted by two very large wolves, in the uniform of the King's Guard, into the throneroom. Being no slouch in the etiquette department, he removed his hat and knelt in the presence of his Sovereign. Jenner regarded him coldly, not bothering to concealthe bored expression on his face. He already had a full day planned of listening to various and sundry other animals who would try to flatter and suck up to him with schemes; a few practical, most not; that they promised would make them mutually wealthy and powerful beyond his most avaricious dreams.
"Rise and state your business." He sighed, resting his bearded chin on one paw.
Will gracefully rose to his feet and, in his most dignified manner, said, "Beggin' your Maj'sty'sindulgence, bu' is it true tha' you've cancelled all th' Summer fairs an' festivals?"
Jenner rolled his eyes and held his paw out, motioning the fox to say no more. "Don't tell me," He said, cynicism dripping from his voice. "You represent all of the barkers, hawkers and other riff-raff who make their living taking advantage of the gullibility of the fair-goer. Am I correct?"
Will's jaw dropped for a moment as he was taken aback by the King's attitude. But he'd come here for a purpose and decided to hold his ground. "No, Maj'sty." He answered. "Acshully, I'm an Acr'bat, an' I'd planned on performin' at some o' them fairs an' festivals 'til I co' find a circus t' join."
One of Jenners brows arched questioningly as he began drumming his fingers on an armrest. "Circus?" He asked skeptically. "Why should anyone want to join a circus?"
A wide smile brightened the young fox's face. "Oh, your Maj'sty!" He exclaimed, his eyes wide as if still listening to the stories that his father had told him over and over but that he had never tired of hearing. "Bein' in a circus is somethin' I've dreamt abou' me 'ole blessed life! I always dreamt o' performin' for others an' bringin' a bi' o' fun into their lives!"
Jenner suddenly stopped drumming and leaned forward, his teeth bared in a nasty sneer and his eyes burning with anger. "FUN?" He screamed, "Fun is for idiots and dreamers! I expect my subjects to serve me with the work of their paws, the sweat of their brow and the love that they hold in their Hearts for the Glory of their King and Country!" Jenner then pushed himself off of his Throne, stalked toward the now impassive fox and began to circle him as a shark circles prey whose blood it has scented.
"My "dear" departed brother was like you." He sneered. "He seemed to believe that by appealing to the baser instincts of his subjects he could somehow gain their approval or even their so-called Love!" He stopped his circling and, drawing himself to his full height, declared imperiously, "But a true King must rule with a disciplined paw! His subjects must either earn their daily bread or starve until they learn that this is the only means by which they will eat. If the other Kingdoms wish to spend themselves to destruction by wasting their precicous resources on bread and circuses without getting anything in return, then they shall have been quite deserving of their fate. But I will not be known a thousand years hence as a Ruler who led his subjects down such a ruinous path!" He then stalked back to his throne and seated himself wearily in its cushions. "Thus endeth your lesson in civics according to your new King. Your request is refused, this audience is at an end. The Guards will see you to the castle gates." Jenner hesitated a moment and then, smiling brightly, added, "Oh! And, uh, have a nice day!"
Will had been growing angrier by the moment as he'd listened to Jenner's self-aggrandizing monologue. But to be brushed off in such an arbitrary manner as this, King or not, was absolutely intolerable. He was about to object to his treatment when a guard appeared, seemingly from nowhere, at each side, sword drawn.
"If he makes a sound," Jenner said, the boredom once again evident in his voice, "Behead him, burn whatever's left and then throw it into the garbage pit at the edge of the City."
Will bared his teeth but held his temper in check. He knew that his skills, while quite good, would be at a major disadvantage inside such a small room. He turned contemptuously and stomped out of the castle.
In a deeply shadowed niche near the door of the throneroom, Sullivan frowned. What was going through his mind right at that moment would have been considered by any reasonable animal to be nothing less than high treason. But Jenner was quickly going out of control. The rumors about his unworthiness to wear the Crown of Britain were spreading far beyond the ability of anyone to hold in check. Even the best of Jenner's so-called "friends", loyal as they pretended to be, were questioning his fitness to rule. Sullivan shrugged. His own agenda was more important than anything having to do with mere politics; he simply desired to survive to a ripe old age, even if a few others had to get hurt, or even die, in the process.
Sullivan slipped silently and unseen out of the castle. He had a very important appointment to keep.
Afternoon slowly faded to dusk which, itself, faded to the blue-black of a moonless night. Sullivan waited a few more minutes just to make absolutely sure that he had not been followed to the clandestine meeting place that had been specified in the note passed to him during his afternoon rounds of the castle. He knew that Jenner was getting more and more paranoid about his safety by the day, keeping a large, heavily armed escort at hand even when he was just out on a walk through the castle grounds. He had also learned that Jenner had hired a number of spies to keep tabs on the few members of the house-keeping staff that remained from King Nicodemus's reign. He knew that they wouldn't hesitate to report that his own Captain-of-the-Guard was involved in a subversive plot against him if he were discovered in this place.
But he'd seen no sign that any of the staff or his subordinates had taken any interest when he'd left the castle. In fact, much to his amusement, he'd heard a rumor to the effect that he'd taken a mistress and that it was her that he was seeing when he was away from the barracks or the castle. Well, if that was what they chose to snicker about, it certainly suited him just fine. Deception was a time-honored military tactic.
With one last glance into the near-darkness, he made his way to a door set well into a small stone building. Above, a street lantern threw a dim light on the entrance. After giving a prescribed series of knocks, which were answered by another series, he was told to enter, the voice on the other side of the door obviously heavily disguised. Sullivan took a deep breath and stepped into what he knew would be his most dangerous power-play yet.
The darkness of the room almost matched that outside, but was punctuated by the weak light of about a dozen small candles that were set into niches in each wall.
"Please take a seat on the stool in the center of the room." The voice came from a backlit figure that, now that his eyes were adjusting to the new light level, he could see was seated behind a long table. He didn't recognize the voice, nor could he tell what kind of animal had spoken. He could also see a number of other figures at tables to each side of the first. He figured that they must have been wearing masks or hoods in order to disguise their profiles. Sullivan strolled to the stool and took a seat. He knew that intimidation was a game that two could play and that if things got out of hand, well, he had plenty of experience in changing or, if the situation demanded it, breaking the rules; and if a little blood got spilled or a few heads got broken in the process, so much the better. He could always tell Jenner that he'd stumbled into this ring of potential traitors on his way to visit his "mistress" and did what he saw as his patriotic duty by rounding them up.
"Alright, I'm here," He said, his voice hinting at arrogance. "What d'ya want from me?"
"Please remember, Captain," The voice warned sternly, "That it was you who requested this meeting with us." Sullivan smiled to himself. Whoever he was dealing with, they weren't the bumpkins that he was expecting. Sullivan had indeed cornered one of the maids and asked her to put him in contact with someone, anyone who could be considered to be against Jenner's rule. She had been suspicious at first, but when no one had come to arrest her during the intervening weeks, she had slipped a note into a pocket of his vest.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let's just get down to business. What exactly is it that you're planning against His Majesty?" He asked matter-of-factly.
"At the moment, we really have no plan to do away with King Jenner. But we do believe that he is leading Britain on a road to destruction and he must, somehow, be stopped!" The voice said gravely.
Sullivan nodded. His interrogators had arrived at their conclusion from a more idealistic angle than he had, but the answer was pretty much the same: Jenner must, if he could not be steered toward a more moderate course of governance, be overthrown. But Sullivan was no fool. He had decided that if he were going to put his life on the line to betray his Sovereign, the price to be paid for his cooperation; even if all that was required of him was to look the other way; would be very, very steep. "Okay." He said slowly, carefully trying to form some terms in his mind. "But what's in it for me? I mean, I'm only the most exposed member of this little plot in the whole room. I expect something more than a pat on the back and a 'Hip Hip Hooray!' once Jenner's off the throne."
"What do you have in mind, Captain? You want to wear the Crown yourself I suppose?" The voice asked sarcastically.
Sullivan laughed out loud, the sound echoing from the walls.
"This question amuses you, Captain?" Irritation replaced sarcasm.
"Well, I must admit that the idea has a certain, uh, temptation to it," He chortled. "But recently the job has had a less-than-secure status accorded to it."
"Aided by your own efforts, no doubt." The voice pointedly replied.
Sullivan shrugged. "I'm no soothsayer. Yeah, I'll admit that I helped Jenner plan to overthrowhis brother. But I was as surprised as anyone that he actually stooped to murder. Even I couldn't have predicted that; so far as I knew, once Jenner had stripped Ol' King Nic of the Crown, he was gonna send Nic off to a permanent exile in either the Scottish Lands or one of the Continental Empires. How was I supposed to know that Jenner'd had a change of whatever passes for his Heart?"
"Then exactly what sort of reward do you expect, assuming that our efforts meet with success." The voice asked.
"I'll make it pretty simple for you." Sullivan stated. "I want The Chancellorship, I want a Titlement; a Barony, or perhaps even a Duchy; and I want the Amulet passed down generation to generation only in my family, no matter what offices they happen to hold in the future, in perpetuity.
This elicited a collective gasp throughout the room, then a heated, whispered argument among those at the tables. When calm was restored, the voice asked, "Is that all? Perhaps we could also arrange for the clouds to decend during your funeral and take whatever passes for your soul up to the spirit world."
Sullivan stood and angrily motioned toward the door. "Look," He sneered, "If you want my help, you gotta pay my price! Otherwise, Jenner'll stay on the Throne. An' you know as well as I that the longer he's on it, the harder it'll be to shove 'im off! So d'we talk a deal or do I walk out that door?"
Another whispered argument ensued. After a few moments, the voice asked, "Would you please excuse us for a few minutes? My, er, colleagues and I wish to consult on your demands in a more private venue for a few minutes. Please don't leave your seat."
Sullivan nodded and relaxed as the other conspirators made their way through another doorto another small, dark room. This was actually going a lot better than he'd ever expected. They had not thrown him out of the room or, worse yet, killed him when he'd asserted his demands. The details of a deal would probably take some time to work out with this crowd, but they seemed to have a leader with a couple of brain cells to rub together and he obviously wasn't afraid to use 'em. Besides, he reassured himself, he was going to take every precaution that, even if this bunch couldn't get its act together and wound up on a one way trip to the gallows, he'd leave no evidence that could possibly connect them with him.
He could now hear a noisy debate through the walls of the small building; voices, none of whom he recognized, rising or falling to the tide of the passions of their views. Eventually, the committee of conspirators proceeded solemnly from the other room and resumed their seats.
"We've come to a decision." The voice stated. "Since we have no workable plan, as yet, we've decided to do nothing at present. If you, at some point, should see an opportunity to accomplish our mutually stated goal, please don't hesitate to take direct action toward that end. We've decided that your price, while pushing certain ethical boundaries, is acceptable; but be warned, our King is not the only employer of spies. We are also watching."
The meeting was then adjourned. Sullivan was instructed to remain seated until the others had left and three knocks were given at the door. Sullivan was tempted to try to follow one of the conspirators, but he needed them to trust him in order for his plan to succeed; so he decided to obey the instruction.
After what seemed an eternity, but could not have been more than a few minutes at most, Sullivan heard three taps at the door. He ran and threw it open, but in the dimness of the nearby street lantern found himself staring down at a tiny young rabbit; a street urchin from the look of him, dressed only in a raggedy old shirt several sizes too large; who stared back at him from empty, emotionless eyes. For a moment, Sullivan wanted to kick the child out of his way and run back to the barracks. He had spent years trying to forget that he too had been left to the horrors of the streets after his mother had abandoned him just after his father had been killed in one of the riots started by two factions involved in the Continental Wars. He'd had to steal food, clothing or anything else that meant another day of survival. The Plague had somehow missed claiming him as yet another victim, but he was near starvation when he was caught stealing from a fruit vendor. The vendor had called the local constable,but a member of the King's Guard had showed up instead and explained that the Guard wasunder orders to augment the local constabulary until the situation quieted down. The vendor had made his opinion clear as to what kind of punishment Sullivan should recieve for his infraction; but the Guard, a wise and experienced Sergeant-Major, had merely listened politely and bundled him off to the King's Orphanage where he'd recieved his first hot meal in memory and slept in a warm and comfortable bed instead of shivering himself to sleep on some chilly &footpath.; But old habits had never really died. Even though the Sergeant-Major had eventually adopted him and tried to instill in him some sense of honor and honesty, he never seemed to be able to rid himself of the anger that he felt toward his real parents; but because they were no longer a part of his life he would take it out on others, usually anyone smaller and weaker than himself. The thought of what he had been and what he had let himself become; a traitor, a murderer in thought if not deed, an arsonist and damn near a child-killer; sickened him. If he was already beyond redemption, so be it. He would reckon with his fate when the spirits called.
But the pitiful creature at his feet stirred something within him that he'd never felt before. He bent down and gently took one of its grimy paws in his own. "How would you like to eat a hot meal and sleep in a warm bed tonight, huh?" The child looked at him uncomprehendingly. For what was probably the first time in his life, Sullivan gave a smile of genuine warmth and said, "Come on, young'un, I'll see if I can get a bath thrown in for you as well." Paw in paw, he led the bedraggled young rabbit down the street.
In the fortnight after their escape from the fire that had destroyed Dr. Ages house, Justin had spent what little free time he had available from tending to Jeremy's injuries taking walks along the banks of a nearby creek and brooding about his future. Mrs. Brisbee tended to Ages broken leg and, with Justin's permission, once again made herself the head of the household; giving her children pretty much the run of the property. They had made friends with one of the local kids; Toby, a tortoise; son of the local constable. And when Mrs. Brisbee was at first reluctant to let them play with the youngster, his father stopped by for a visit. Justin was instantly delighted to see his former childhood playmate and reassured her that he could vouch for the constable's unwavering friendship and loyalty. The constable also assured her that he too was opposed to King Jenner's rule and would offer whatever aid discretion would permit.
On a bright, sunny mid-Summer morning, Timothy and Cynthia were exploring around the house looking for whatever items that could be used as toys to play with. He and his older sister had just discovered a closet in one of the unused rooms of the old house. Inside, they had found a large gray-painted trunk with the name "Justin" scrawled across the top. "Let's open it!" Cynthia suggested excitedly, "Maybe it's his old toybox!"
Timothy frowned and shook his head. "No, Cynthia. It's too big for that. It looks more like the trunk that mom used to keep &our; really good clothes in." He said.
"Well, let's open it anyway! Maybe it's got stuff he'll let us play with!" She prodded.
Timothy rolled his eyes and sighed. He knew better than to try to come between his sister and her chance to have some fun. But then a thought struck him. "Maybe we better go ask Captain Justin for his permission; after all, it does have his name on it."
Cynthia jumped to her feet and was out the door shouting, "I'll go! I'll go!" Before Timothy could think to stop her. He was getting a bad feeling from this box in front of him. Not bad in the sense of the dreams about his father or the fire a couple of weeks ago, but bad in the sense of a great sadness that he could somehow feel coming from it, like someone had gone on a long trip promising to return, but never being able to do so. Timothy could hear his sister calling out for the fox and wished that they had never found the room, the closet or the trunk. He wondered if maybe he could just walk out of the room, lock the door, and try to convince his sister that they had all been nothing more than a part of her imagination. But now he could hear several sets of footsteps coming quickly toward the room, Cynthia overenthusiastically describing what they had found. His sense of impending dread gave way to resignation as Cynthia dragged Justin into the room.
"There it is! There it is!" She squealed and pointed with excitement.
Justin bent down and examined it more closely. "Yeah, I guess it is mine." He said, his voice betraying a hint of confusion. "Although I must confess that I don't remember ever having seen it before."
"Open it! Open it! Pleeeease!" Cynthia begged, jumping up and down, unable to contain her excitement.
"Calm down, Honey." Mrs. Brisbee told her. "Why don't we help Justin take it into the main room so he can open it where there's more light?" She suggested.
"An excellent idea!" Justin said. He placed a paw on Martin's shoulder and said, "Would you be willing to help your sister and I move it? It looks a bit heavy for just the two of us to carry."
Martin smiled and said, "Sure, but I get dibs on any really neat stuff that might be in there!"
"Done!" Justin said. Then he noticed Cynthia and Theresa scowling at him. "But," He quickly added, "You've got to promise me that you'll share that really neat stuff with your sisters and little brother; they're your family after all."
Martin nodded and they, along with Cynthia and Theresa; who also volunteered her help; moved the trunk, which wasn't really all that heavy after all, into the larger, better-lit main room.
The main hasp was unlocked and all that Justin had to do was unsnap the two fasteners to each side and lift the lid. Inside was a neatly folded ceremonial uniform coat and shako.
"My Troop-Captain's uniform!" Justin said in amazement. "I gave it to my mother after my promotion to Captain-of-the-Guard." He sniffed back a tear. "My father didn't live to see that moment, but Mama always said that it would have been the proudest one of his life. I always knew that it was the proudest moment of hers." Justin gently lifted the uniform out and ran his paw over the fine gold, dark blue and black embroidery. "Martin," He said in a reverent tone, "If you promise me that you will take extra-special care of it, I'll let you have this uniform. All that I ask is that you remember that, while I wore it, I was pledged to serve, and if necessary die for, my King. That events turned out differently is my own shame."
Martin gulped and nodded. "Thank you!" he whispered, awed by this new responsibility. To his mother he asked, "Mom, can I go and hang this over my bed?" Mrs. Brisbee nodded her approval, her own eyes misting from the empathy that she felt for Justin.
Under the uniform were various childhood toys and knick-knacks that Justin thought that he had long since forgotten about but was able to identify particular individuals or events; whether birthdays, relatives or both; that were associated with them. He distributed them among the children until they were gone. The last item in the trunk was a small box wrapped in a silk kerchief that had browned and faded with age, but still visible was a very elegant rose motif. "Mama loved roses." He said, a hint of both sadness and pride in his voice. "I used to think up all sorts of excuses to leave the farm after my chores and the farmwork were done just so that I could wander the forest to look for the most beautiful roses to bring back to her. Papa never seemed to mind; even if I arrived after the sun had gone down and was late for dinner, because he always saved me some; just solong as I had some roses to give to her."
"You must have loved her very much." Mrs. Brisbee said quietly.
Justin shrugged. "I suppose I did," He sighed, "Even though I knew that she wasn't my real mother. Not that she and Papa didn't give their Hearts and Souls to welcome me into the family and be the best parents they possibly could under the circumstances; but I was always somehow different from the other kids, even though we shared the same home and the same color fur."
Justin carefully weighed the small box in his hand. After a few moments, he gently removed the age-brittled cloth from around it. Mrs. Brisbee took the kerchief, expertly folded it and placed it in the drawer of a nearby desk.
It was a small jewelry box made of dark mahogany. On its lid was a relief of a family seal covered in gold leaf. The seal was a pair of foxes supporting a shield. On the shield was an open heart-shaped lock. Above the shield was a pair of crossed keys, and supporting the whole was a ribbon-scroll emblazoned with the name "Locksley" in red. Justin opened the box and removed a silver locket, identical in shape to the lock on the shield. On the front, a seal identical to the one on the lid of the box had been painstakingly engraved into the metal; on the reverse, written in an elegant script, were the words: "To Justin, Our Son, On the Occasion of His First Birthday. With All Our Love, Emma and Jonathan." Justin's eyes widened in shock. He fumbled with the tiny catch on the side and the locket popped open. In one compartment wasa miniature painting depicting a trio of regal looking foxes; father, mother and child. The father had a grand, beaming, confident smile and his eyes twinkled with merriment. The mother gazed lovingly at the young kit that she held in her arms. In the other compartment, in the same elegant script as was on the cover, was engraved: "Emma, Jonathan & Justin Locksley". "It can't be!" Justin whispered.
"Unfortunately it is, Justin. Although I'd hoped that this was a secret that would remain lost."
Justin and Mrs. Brisbee turned to discover Dr. Ages, supported by a nearly mummy-wrapped Jeremy, at the doorway. Suddenly, Justin raised an arm and pointed an accusing finger at the badger. "You...You KNEW! Damn you, you old Bastard! YOU KNEW ALL ALONG!" He screamed in realization. He made as if to leap on Ages, but Mrs. Brisbee quickly grabbed him in a bear-hug shouting, "Calm down, Justin! Give him a chance to explain!"
The tension in Justin's body drained away as he collapsed onto Mrs. Brisbee, who led him toa nearby chair. Jeremy, himself in pain, helped Dr. Ages hobble to another chair and made himself as comfortable as possible on the large couch under the front bay window. An envelope with writing on it lay on the floor next to the jewel box, which Justin; in his anger; had dropped. Mrs. Brisbee picked them up and read the faded but still legible writing on the envelope aloud, "To J." She handed it to a morose Justin, who glared hatefully at Ages. He opened it and began to read silently. Soon anger was replaced by sadness as tears flowed down his cheeks. He then handed the letter to Mrs. Brisby. "Read." He whispered, his voice choked with conflicting emotions.
Mrs. Brisbee cleared her throat and proceeded. "My dearest Justin," She said evenly, "If you are reading this letter, then I have failed in my duties as your mother. Since the death of your father I have done my best to provide a decent home for you. But due to circumstances over which I have no control, I have been forced to place your father's estate in the care of the Royal Trust. When I might be able to regain it, I have no idea. I am now being evicted from the manor and must move to Londontown. Unfortunately, I am unable to bring you with me. Therefore, I have had to make the most difficult decision in my life and place you in the temporary custody of a local orphanage. Even now the thought of you alone, even surrounded with children your own age, makes me want to hold you and never let you go. Always know that you are first in my thoughts at all times; from the moment I rise in the morning to the moment my eyes close in sleep at night. My love to you always. Your mother, Emma."
A long silence filled the room. After a while, Justin looked at Dr. Ages through bloodshot eyes and said, "I-I don't understand."
Ages sighed and asked Mrs. Brisbee to bring him the two books that he'd brought from his now-ruined house. When she returned, he took them from her and broke their seals and unwrapped the cloth ribbons that kept them shut. "Just after your first birthday," He began, opening one of the volumes, "Your father became ill with the Plague and died soon after. On paper, he was a very rich landholder who owned vast tracts of land in both Nottinghamshire and other parts of Britain. But after his untimely demise, his creditors began circling like the vultures they were, demanding immediate return on their investments. Your mother placed all of the land that he owned in this Shire into the protection of the Royal Trust while she paidoff your father's debts by transferring the various deeds to their respective credit-bearers. This kind of legal maneuvering takes vast amounts of time and your mother felt that she would be unable to care for you properly so she placed you in a local orphanage until she could return for you.
"But three events in the intervening months occurred that were to change your fate forever. First, you were given for adoption; even though, from what precious few facts I've been able to gather, your records supposedly forbade this course of action. Whether this was an accident, a clerical error, some malicious hand at work or simply a bizarre twist of fate, I have no idea. But soon after, a fire destroyed the orphanage and your records along with it. During this period, your mother met and married a young, up-and-coming physician named Dr. Lawrence Brisbee; who, I might add, was my best and brightest student when I taught at my Guild's Medical Academy. After she had cleared your father's legal debts, she came back to Nottinghamshire to reclaim her land and, most importantly, her young son.
"But with the orphanage reduced to a rock-strewn cinder and no trace of you to be found, she spent all of her spare time searching through birth certificates, public adoption records, even death certificates, but with no success. During this time, about five years after you were born, she gave birth to another son, whom she named..."
"Jonathan!" Justin blurted out in disbelief.
"Yes." Ages nodded. "After your father. While you were growing up on this farm, Jonathan was growing up in Londontown. He went to some of the finest schools, excelling in all his educational pursuits, and earned a Masters Degree in Public Administration. He then took a post in the Lord Mayor's government and eventually rose to the position of His Majesty's Coroner."
"And when did you realize that he was my brother?" Justin demanded angrily.
"Half-brother." Ages corrected. "Actually, I suspected it the moment I saw you two in the same room. The physical resemblance was uncanny. In fact, I'm surprised that you never picked up on it; and to this day I suspect that Jonathan had, even though he never gave any indication of it."
"So why didn't you tell me? I think I had a right to know!" Justin fumed.
"Don't you think I wanted to?" Ages retorted, "There were nights when I got no sleep whatsoever because I wanted so badly to tell you both! But I also believed, and still do, that, for whatever reason, Fate had placed you on different paths and it was not my place to intervene, whatever the consequences."
"Even if it got two good animals killed." Justin said bitterly.
Now Ages became angry. "You have no right to lay that on my conscience!" He shouted. "I mourn the deaths of King Nicodemus and Jonathan just as much as you and Mrs. Brisbee do! After all, Jonathan was my friend too! Remember?" Ages paused a moment to calm himself and gather his thoughts. "Let me ask you something," He said, leaning forward in his chair. "If you had known that you and Jonathan were half-brothers, would that have changed anything between you? I'm not totally blind; although my eyes aren't as sharp as they were in my prime; and I could see that you and Jonathan had become brothers even without the actual knowledge of your blood-tie with him. Are you so sure that simply by knowing this that it would actually have saved him from his eventual fate?"
Justin opened his mouth to answer, but the logic of Ages question made him hesitate. Would events have turned out any differently had he known? Justin's friendship with Jonathan had been of a very brotherly intimacy, now that he looked back on it. They had shared confidences about their lives that had made it seem as if they actually had grown up together. "I...I don't know." Justin answered truthfully.
"None of us do, my boy." Ages said in a comforting tone. "We must live our lives with whatever resources we are given at birth, whether it's a strength of mind, body or will. Some are blessed with two of these and a very lucky few are blessed with all three. But the vast majority of us must muck along through our lives and somehow cultivate that one resource that we've been given, just as a farmer cultivates his crops. Like a hailstorm or a flood or a drought; Fate can sometimes damage, or even kill, this resource. If we're lucky, we can repair or regrow this resource; if not, then we must go through the often painful task of adapting to life without it. Your resources through all this have been an unswerving strength of purpose, a determined will to see justice done and an uncanny sense of what's right and wrong. Jonathan saw these qualities in you even better than I did, which is why he knew that you would help us in our fight to keep Jenner off the throne. Obviously," He reflected bitterly,"Fate had other plans."
"What happened to my mother? My real mother." Justin asked, his voice flat and drained of emotion.
She passed away several years ago." Ages said. "She never gave up on her hope that you were alive and, even to the moment that her heart stopped beating, believed that you two would be reunited. Lawrence died soon afterward. The death certificate says "natural causes", but I think that he simply could not deal with the death of the wife that he loved so much and just sort of gave up the will to live. They're buried together in the City Cemetery in a plot near the small lake by the Southwest Gate. I'll take you sometime if you wish."
Justin nodded thoughtfully. "I'd like that." he whispered. He then got up from his chair and walked out of the house and wandered along the creek that meandered near his "home". He found an isolated bend and waded through the cool, shallow water to a large rock that he used to sit on as a young kit. Mrs. Brisbee, who had silently followed him, stepped into the water as well and waded in his footsteps and sat down next to him, draped her arms around his shoulders and began nuzzling the fur at the back of his neck. "Ages didn't tell the whole story." He said as he examined the locket, which dangled from his paw.
"Mmm?" Was Mrs. Brisbee's only response as she hugged him closer to her.
Justin snapped the locket shut and placed it on top of a nearby rock and gently took Mrs. Brisbee's paws in his own. "When I was twelve, a recruiter for the King's Army came through the area and told the various families around here that His Majesty needed strapping young farmboys to help him defend Britain against imminent invasion by the Continental powers. Memories of the Plague and the factional rioting in the City were still quite fresh in everyone's mind, but most of the folks around here needed their sons to help with the harvests at least until they got married and got their own farms and had kids of their own to help them with their harvests, and so on, and so on. But my parents, my adoptive ones, asked him if recruits went to school. The recruiter told them that schooling could be arranged, but only if the recruit were a candidate for the King's Guard. My parents had my best interests in mind, I suppose, because neither they nor my brothers, sisters and cousins had gone to school and I guess that they wanted something more for me than being a poor, simple farmer for the rest of my life. So they signed me up on the spot and I was on my way to the City that very afternoon; I didn't even have time to pack a bag because the recruiter had told them that I would have everything that I would ever need for the rest of my life issued to me by the Guard's Quartermaster-Sergeant. The problem was that a Sergeant, Lieutenant; even The Captain-of-the-Guard himself; can't order a twelve-year-old not to be homesick."
"Mmmmm." Mrs. Brisbee answered in agreement, stroking the inside of his ear with the tip of her nose.
Justin wrinkled his brow and asked, "Have you been listening to a word I've said?"
"Your parents enlisted you in the King's Guard to give you an education for your future and you missed themvery much." She purred softly.
Justin rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, close enough I guess. What's with you anyway?"
Mrs. Brisbee brought her eyes level with Justin's. "Until today," She said, her voice quavering slightly, "I had denied to myself that I had feelings for you. I guess I thought that if I admitted them to myself, I thought that I would be betraying Jonathan's memory. But don't you see? In a way, Jonathan's a part of you now! You've shared a parent! You've shared a friendship! I want to be a part of that too!" She closed her eyes as a tear dropped into the creek. Justin reached around and held Mrs. Brisbee's head and shoulders to his chest in a passionate embrace, rocking &her; gently back and forth.
"I see nothing wrong with that." Justin said softly."
Mrs. Brisbee pulled away a bit, smiled and wiped a tear from her eye. "And I'm sure that the children will be delighted to learn that they have an Uncle."
"Half-Uncle." He reminded her, placing emphasis on the word "half". Then he gave a chuckle.
"What's so funny?" Mrs. Brisbee asked, somewhat perplexed by the enigmatic smile that lit his face.
"I just realized that I'm 'half'-everything that Jonathan was. 'Half'-brother, 'half'-uncle. Why, who knows! You could very well be my 'half-wife'!"
"And you're quite possibly my 'half-husband'!" She giggled. "Even if you can sometimes be a bit 'half-assed'!
Justin laughed and said mock-indignantly, "Madam, I can be well-and-truely 'assed' when I wish to!" He then picked Mrs. Brisbee up and quickly carried her to a waist-deep part of the creek and unceremoniously dumped her into the water. She emerged soaked and spluttering. He laughed at her bedraggled appearance. She responded by giving him a sly smirk and slipped one of her feet behind Justin's heels and gave him a mighty shove to the shoulders. With a yelp, he toppled into the water like a fresh-cut tree. He came up floating on his back and spit a line of water toward Mrs. Brisbee, who dodged it, and it splashed harmlessly on the creekbank. She then leaned back and let herself float next to him, where they took each others paw and let themselves enjoy the freedom of the clear rippling, gurgling water.
Sometime later, as Jeremy and Dr. Ages drank a late afternoon cup of tea, Justin and Mrs. Brisbee, bothof whom were dripping wet, sauntered arm-in-arm into the house laughing and giggling. Ignoring the astonished stares of the badger and the rooster, they exchanged a passionate embrace and kiss; then walked past them, leaving two parallel trails of water on the floor, and made their way to Justin's room.
When he regained his voice, Jeremy looked at Ages and asked, "Am I missing something here?"
Ages sighed and said, "My boy, something tells me that you'll be sleeping in a different bed from now on."
Jeremy looked confused for a few moments, but then he nodded his realization. "Oh I see!" He exclaimed.
Ages nodded his consensus and continued drinking his tea as if nothing had happened.
Will Scarlet was utterly disgusted and discouraged. For the past several weeks he'd been trying to book passage to the Continent, but his lack of money meant that he'd had to try and hire himself out as an inexperienced deckhand. Unfortunately, most Captains ignored him because of his youth and wiry build. "I need a strong back!" One had told him with a sneer. "Not some pip squeak who's gonna cry for mama at the first breeze!"
He'd managed to survive so far by lying about his age to get a job tending bar at one of the sleazy little dives that dotted the river front. He worked the late shift, which left his days free to try to look for a way to leave the forsaken place that Britain was fast becoming. He was paid a pittance, the owner explaining that the King had raised the taxes on drinks through the roof. At first, he'd been skeptical of this claim; but, after talking with a few of the other public house and inn workers, he'd come to realize that Jenner was indeed going to attempt to live up to his philosophy of wringing more work out of his subjects. Almost daily, new decrees and edicts were being issued to raise this or that tax or begin taxing something that hadn't been taxed before. Just days before, a near-riot had broken out when Jenner had issued an order closing the City's largest soup kitchen, blithely explaining that the workload was now to be more efficiently shared among the remaining smaller kitchens.
Will himself looked far different than when he'd first come to Londontown. He'd put away his acrobat costume and was now dressed in an old shirt and bib-overalls that he'd found in the "penny-pile" at the salvage store of a local charity. They were both a couple sizes too large and in need of some repair, but they were comfortable and, after a few hours with a needle and thread, he figured that he blended somewhat better into his surroundings. On his back he carried an improvised knapsack sewn from an old sea-bag and strips of sailcloth for the straps.
He was on his way to the dosshouse where he'd rented his room when he noticed a crowd gathering around a street lamp. He made his way to it and pushed his way through the crowd. Pasted to the lamppost was an announcement which read: "By order of His Majesty, King Jenner, on this date; The King's Orphanage is hereby ordered to cease all operations immediately. All resident children are to be removed to an alternate facility of his choice until further notice." Several people in the crowd began scratching their heads and asking, "Can he do that?" or "Whadda they mean, 'alternate facility'?"
From a distance, a new sound could be heard; the booing and Djeering of a large distant horde. He fought his way out of the growing crowd and started running full-tilt in the direction of the Orphanage. When he arrived several minutes later, he skidded to a stop and stared wide-eyed in astonishment at the scene before him. "Cor!" He muttered under his breath.
A single file of children, all in shackles and chains, was being led from the somber stone building, dark with grime from its long-ago days as a coal-storage warehouse, by members of a troop of the King's Guard. On the surrounding streets a crowd of thousands was milling aimlessly about or hurling curses and taunts at the soldiers and growing by the second.
The Troop-Captain; a beady-eyed weasel named Ezekiel Stabb; looked down on the roiling mass of animals from his perch atop the highest step of the entrance portico with contempt and loathing. Weasels did not generally associate with any other animals except fellow weasels and, even then, were generally suspicious and paranoid about any outside their own clan. But Stabb had been a mercenary soldier during the Continental wars and had, he thought, been rather good at his chosen vocation. He'd grown to love the smell of the fresh blood that had stained his sword-blade during the campaigns he'd fought for whichever Empire had bid the highest for his services; in fact, in his youth, he had gotten an almost erotic thrill after each battle by seeking an isolated spot away from the main body of whatever carnage had just been wrought and slowly licking the fresh, warm red liquid off of whatever weapon he happened to be using, shivering with pleasure as he savored the salty taste with each stroke of his tongue. This secret bloodlust had not been appeased in many years and had faded into nothing more than a distant, shameful memory. When the wars had wound down, he'd found that employers wanted more useful skills than slashing an enemy's throat or bashing his skull in with a mace or battle-axe. Stabb had no stomach for such namby-pamby pursuits as farming or commerce. Eventually, he'd had to enlist in one of the regular imperial armies, being forced to rise through the ranks even with his extensive military experience. His family and clan had long ago perished in the wars and resultant Plague and he was far too old to try to fight for a place in another. He had, in a bout of bitterness and depression, been contemplating suicide several months earlier when he'd heard from one of his old buddies that the new King of Britain was looking for a few ruthlessly efficient animals to be all that they could be while promising not just a job, but an adventure; and if they aimed high, well, who knew how far one could go? He'd immediately resigned and hopped the next boat to Britain and enthusiastically offered his services to His Majesty, who had immediately commissioned him as a Troop-Captain.
But now here he was taking a bunch of little kids from their only home, such as it was, in chains like a bunch of criminals on their way to a work detail. This was most definitely NOT the kind of work that he'd signed on for! A King's Guard was just that: a bodyguard for the Sovereign of the Realm; not some Secret Police force to be used on a whim to crush those opposed to his rule! Stabb had never before disobeyed a direct order from the boss who signed his paycheck; but when Captain Sullivan had given him this assignment and told him how it was to be carried out, Stabb had been tempted to refuse it outright; telling Sullivan that chaining up innocent children was beyond his job description. Sullivan had replied that the chains were for the children's own safety so that they would not get lost on the way to their new homes. But Stabb had known better than to trust the word of his commander. He'd remembered numerous situations in his past where his supposed "leaders" had lied to him in order to further their own careers and wasted the lives of many good soldiers, including some good friends, in the process.
He'd asked one of the aides to the King's Scribe; a harried, weak-willed hedgehog; for the original order. The aide had tried to put him off, but Stabb was persistent and had become very upset when he'd learned that Jenner was simply using the residents of the orphanage to maintain his grip on power. Just after he'd joined the Guard, he'd heard rumors of another betrayal by them against a former Captain-of-the-Guard named Justin. At first he'd dismissed them as nothing more than the usual backbiting among the upper echelons of power. But when he'd heard that a reward had been placed on the fox's head, he'd begun to get an inkling of just what these two were capable of. Even now the conflicting feelings; rage at Jenner and Sullivan for their lies and betrayal, guilt for letting himself be used in such a shameful manner, even a certain amount of sympathy, a feeling quite rare to his species, for the plight these poor kids who had no clue as to their future; inside of him were almost at the boiling point. He decided that he had no choice but to put up a brave, if utterly false, front. But it didn't make the job any easier.
The noise of the crowd was intensifying. Somewhere, someone had set up a soapbox and was railing against the tax and social reform policies of His Majesty. Stabb motioned his Lieutenant to his side. "Find out who that is," He hissed angrily, pointing in the general direction of the oratory, "And arrest him! And don't be too gentle about it!" The guard took a Sergeant and several soldiers with him and disappeared into the seething multitude. Several minutes later, Stabb gave a satisfied smirk as a commotion broke out among a part of the crowd and the voice that had been yelling invective against the King fell silent. "That'll teach ya to fight City Hall!" He muttered sarcastically.
The last of the children were led from the building; most were crying, some were carrying swaddled infants; but, as before, they all wore ankle-irons and manacles.
Will Scarlet worked his way through the crowd and made his way to the steps of the portico, where he was stopped by two halbred-armed wolves. "'Ay,'ay! Wha' d'yer think yer doin', ya bloody twit? Them kids can't 'urt you!" He yelled for all he was worth.
Stabb turned to face him down and sneered from his perch. "You'd better mind your own business, boy! How we remove these brats is up to King Jenner and none of your affair!"
"Is tha' ri'? Well 'ow 'bout you go an' pick on some'un yer own size?" Will taunted.
Stabb's nose wrinkled in anger as he drew his sword. "Like YOU?" He shouted as he advanced down the steps.
Will gulped but stood his ground.
Stabb motioned the two wolves away and ordered a nearby guard to hand his sword over to the smart-ass fox who had either the brass courage or sheer stupidity to challenge the orders of his King.
Will doffed the backpack and it was picked up by a member of the crowd, a pretty, young female skunk; who said, with a lilting brogue; "I'll keep it safe for ya. Good luck!" She then gave him a quick peck on his cheek and disappeared into the crowd. He took the sword from the guard and was nearly dragged to the ground by its unaccustomed weight. He waved it around for a few moments to try to get a feel for its weight and balance. His mother had been both a sword-swallower and knife-thrower before she had married his father and taken up acrobatics, and showed her son some fencing techniques, both elementary and advanced; and he now struggled to try and remember those long-ago lessons.
Stabb watched this prancing young imbecile with a mixture of bemusement and contempt. "You shoulda stayed on the farm, boy!" He snickered scornfully.
Will assumed a fighting stance and said, "Y' may be ri', bu' m' name's no' 'boy'!"
Stabb then stepped forward and brought his sword down on Will expecting to cleave the youth in two with no resistance. He was more than a little surprised to find his stroke blocked, inexpertly but effectively, by his opponent. He then slid his blade off of Will's and used the momentum of his force to strike down again, this time from an angle.
Will, using his circus skills, quickly dodged to the opposite direction; executing a sideways sommersault; leaving the Troop-Captain's blade to clang into the grimy gray stone of the portico, throwing bright sparks as it hit. Experimentally, he slashed his blade at waist-level toward the weasel's midsection. The weasel only just had time to parry the blow. The two antagonists began to trade and parry blows and slashes Dagainst each other, attempting to gauge each other's skills and weaknesses. Will then methodically began aiming blows at other parts of his adversary's anatomy, gauging both the speed and consistency of the weasel's reactions to his moves and countermoves. He began to realize that the weasel was fighting to a prescribed rote order which probably left little room for improvisation; and while the Troop-Captain was superior in terms of his physical strength and experience in swordplay, Will knew that if he began to subtly change the rules of the fight more to his advantage, he could at least hold his own against his opponent.
He began to back slowly down the portico steps in order to give himself more room, the crowd parting so as not to be hit by a stray, slashing blade. Stabb mistakenly took this as a retreat and began to press his attack on the young fox. Will had anticipated this reaction and kept his cool, calmly blocking each of the weasel's strokes. As soon as he felt that he was imposition, he began his own attack against the Troop-Captain; first using a series of feints and false thrusts to throw the weasel off of the rhythm that Will had detected in his fighting method. Then he began to bring a slightly faster tempo to his own movements, the weasel grimacing in frustration as he struggled to keep up.
Stabb was really pissed now. He'd figured that he'd be able to dispatch this hayseed fox to the next world in a few moments and get back to the job at hand; but somehow this little punk was not only still alive, but he was actually in control of this fight! Needless to say, this had never happened to him before. Usually a little intimidation was all that was needed to bring an enemy to his knees for the eventual kill, but this kid had shown no signs that he was in any way afraid of Stabb; in fact, Stabb could see the beginnings of a smile forming at the corners of the fox's mouth while his eyes were empty of all emotions other than intense concentration. He tried to press another attack like the one that had driven the kid down the front steps, but the kid was standing his ground like a seasoned professional; sidestepping, advancing, thrusting and parrying, but never giving up his now clear advantage. In his growing &rage;, Stabb lunged toward the fox and immediately regretted doing so when the fox expertly stepped aside and landed a powerful, painful slap against the back of Stabb's knee with the flat of his blade, causing the leg to buckle and Stabb to cry out in pain. The Crowd roared its laughter and approval. Stabb rubbed some feeling back into the area and felt a little bit of wetness slicking his fur. He knew without looking that the fox had drawn first blood.
Will Scarlet maintained a respectful distance from the slightly injured Troop-Captain. "We kin stop this 'ere an' now if you want, bu' ya go' t' le' them kids free!" He told the weasel.
Stabb raised himself painfully to both feet and raised his sword high above his head, his eyes ablaze with bitter frustration. "NEVER!" He screamed; launching himself on an unsteady, unwieldy limp toward Will, bringing his sword down. Will fell to the ground at the last second and used his legs to sweep the enraged weasel's feet out from under him. The weasel fell hard and his sword was knocked from his paw, skittering a short way along the stone street and coming to rest against a gutter. Before he could catch his breath; Stabb was on his back, the tip of the fox's blade resting uncomfortably on his exposed throat. For the first time in his life, Stabb knew that he had lost a fight. He stared at the winner with fear in his eyes, the fox staring back with something that he couldn't identify. Anger? Pity, perhaps? Both? He decided that death was a far better fate than that which awaited him if he surrounded to this, this BOY! "Kill me!" He hissed defiantly. The fox raised a questioning eyebrow as if unsure of the command. "KILL ME!" He screamed and tried to grab for the blade in order to plunge it into his own throat. But the fox quickly pulled the blade away and tossed the sword onto the portico steps.
"Sorry. Bu' I don' kill blokes like you, even if y' prob'bly do deserve it." Will said evenly. He then offered his paw to the weasel and said simply, "Le' them kids go. they can't 'urt you or your boys."
Stabb sighed and reluctantly accepted the fox's paw, the fox helping him to his feet. "LieuTENANT!" He shouted as they made their way to the lowest step of the portico. "Sir!" The Lieutenant answered. "Remove those irons from those children!" The Lieutenant nodded and moments later all of the children were free of their shackles and chains. "What about him?" The Lieutenant asked, nodding toward Will. "What aBOUT him?" Stabb said. The Lieutenant said, "He's interfered with an order by his Majesty; shouldn't we arrest him?" Stabb glared at the guard. "Interfered in WHAT, SERGEANT?" He said sarcastically, emphasizing the soldier's new rank. "We're still closing this building down and relocating its occupants. We're simply going to modify our means of doing so." The newly-demoted officer was about to say something else, but Stabb's angry visage brooked no argument.
Meanwhile, Will had begun bandaging the Troop-Captain's leg-wound; which was neither deep nor serious; with a strip of cloth from his backpack, which had been returned by the skunk who had been keeping it safe for him. Realizing that the fight was over, and encouraged by the local constabulary who had arrived at its conclusion, the crowd began to break up and go about its business.
Stabb regarded his victor for several minutes as the young fox continued his work. "Y'know, boy, you got lucky today. How in the heck did you win? I must be gettin' too old fer this line o' work!"
Will snickered and said, "First of all, m' name's Will. Will Scarlet. Sec'nd; in yer dreams, bub! I coulda tak'n you on m' worst day! I won 'cause me 'eart was pure an' me cause was just! An' b'sides, y' kep' usin' all th' same moves an' rhythm to p'rtec' y'rself over an' over. I jus' varied my moves t' throw y' off."
Stabb shook his head in simultaneous admiration and disbelief. This was the first time that he'd ever been bested in a fight; and a fair one at that; and the kid had won by not bending to the Troop-Captain's will while at the same time bending the rules to his favor. As Will tied the last knot in the bandage, Stabb placed a paw on his shoulder. "Kid," He said in a fatherly tone, "If I were you I'd get myself outta this city. Jenner's not gonna be happy when he hears what happened today. He specifically ordered that those kids be shackled in order to intimidate these folks into doing his will. He's not gonna like the idea that there's another animal who'll stand up to him."
"'nother?" Will asked, perplexed. "I sorter figger'd tha' sooner 'r later we'd all jus' ge' tired o' 'is bullyin' an jus' toss 'im ou' on 'is flamin' can!"
Stabb laughed and said, "Boy, you are a hayseed, aren't you? These animals are afraid of Jenner!" He made a sweeping motion with his paw toward the few hangers-on near the building. "They want more'n anything to be subjects of their King again, rather than his slaves; but he has the Crown, the Throne, his power an', not least, an Army to back 'em all up!" He then removed his uniform coat, neatly folded it, laid it on the step next to him and laid his steel helmet on it. "If you are gonna take on Jenner, you'd best find a fox, a red, named Justin. He has as much reason as anyone to want the King off his Throne."
"Wot 'bout you?" Will asked.
Stabb was touched by the genuine concern in Will's voice. No one had ever shown consideration for him, beyond his abilities as a fighter, before. He shook his head sadly. "I'm too old to be doin' this if some hayseed can lay me out in a few minutes an' not break a sweat. I suppose I'll just have to go back to Jenner an' throw myself on his not-so-tender mercies an' count myself lucky if I die in whatever prison he cares to toss my tail into." He said, a bitter tear forming in the corner of one eye.
"Why no' come wi' me?" Will asked, helping the weasel to his feet. "If this Just'n needs 'elp gettin' Jenner off th' Throne, I wanna be there with 'im!"
Stabb regarded the fox with a skeptical admiration. This kid seemed willing to look Death square in the eye and DARE it to blink first! But he could detect no arrogance in Will's voice or manner; just a magnificent self-confidence that Stabb wished he'd possessed in his own prime. He chuckled and said, "Sure, why not? I get antsy in dungeons anyway! SERGEANT!" He called out to the former officer.
The Sergeant, a wolf not much older than Will, hurried to his Troop-Captain and stood at attention. "SIR!" He answered.
Stabb removed the gold insignia pin from his vest and gave it to the wolf. "Tell Captain Sullivan that I'm resigning my post effective immediately. Tell 'im that I'm too old to be lockin' kids in chains, an' that Jenner'll have to get someone else t' do his dirty work for 'im." He said bitterly. "You've got this detail now."
The Sergeant saluted. Stabb returned the honor and, assisted by Will and the female skunk, began limping away. "You realize, sir, that if we meet again I may have to kill you." The Sergeant's voice held no hint of malice.
Stabb turned and almost said something, but sadly nodded his understanding and limped off down the street supported by his new comrades.
Once Will and the skunk; who introduced herself as Heather Kilcannon, an art student from Eire; retrieved their various possessions from their respective dosshouses, they left the City as quickly as possible. The weasel, who had introduced himself just after leaving the orphanage, directed them to an unguarded gate that was part of one of the many public gardens scattered around Londontown. They were now headed North toward where Stabb had heard that Justin had gone.
"So what's your story, girl?" Stabb asked as he limped, now under his own power.
"I heard tha' King Jenner is plannin' to close most o' the universities." She explained. "Includin' mine. I was waitin' for a boat t' take me home when I saw you 'n' your troops startin' t' take them poor little children away in those awful chains! I rushed back t' the school an'got a few o' me friends together an' we began t' protest."
Stabb grimaced at the accusatory sharpness in her voice and words, well aware of how correct she was to harbor those feelings. "I'm sorry," He murmured, "I hope that someday you'll find it in your hearts to forgive a foolish old soldier for not having the courage to disobey an order that had no business being issued in the first place."
Heather took one of his paws in hers and said softly, "I dinno' mean t' hurt your feelin's. Ye've already taken your first step toward redemption by defyin' tha' loathsome tyrant of a King." She then took one of Will's paws and said, "The spirits protect those who try t' do tha' which is right, don't they? Tha's what me father always taught me."
Stabb smiled at this girl's innocence. He'd seen and caused far too much death and bloodshed to ever look at the world with anything but a cynical and jaundiced eye. But he now began to hope that, in the time left before his inevitable judgment before the spirits of the afterworld, he might be able to right at least a few of the many wrongs that he'd done over a lifetime and maybe, just maybe, learn to appreciate some of the beauty that was in the world rather than dwell on the evils that he'd been witness to. He nodded hesitantly. "My feelings were hurt long before now, sister, and I suppose that there may yet be hope even for this old idiot. Whether your father was right about the spirits or not is anybody's guess; but he seems to have given his daughter enough faith to make even this old soldier want to believe that it might be true." He told her.
Will had been listening to them in rapt silence, mesmerized by the sound of Heather's voice and her glowing beauty. He'd been a bit too busy when he'd first seen her, what with being in the middle of a fight and all. But her luxuriant, silky black-and-white fur and large, sparkling eyes now made his heart flutter. But that wonderful voice! Music from the most expensively crafted archlute or harpsichord could only pale in comparison to that which this girl made simply by speaking!
After a while, Stabb began to lag behind and Will tried to work up some suddenly elusive courage to talk to Heather; marvelling at how easy it was to risk one's life in a sword fight against a veteran soldier, but how difficult it was to risk embarrassment while talking to a beautiful young girl. "So, um, where in Eire're ya from?" He asked, trying desperately to keep some bravado in his voice.
Heather giggled. "Ye don' have to be me Knight in Shinin' Armor all the time, Will!" She chided. "I can like th' Love-struck teen-ager just as much!"
Will chuckled nervously in spite of himself, well aware that he'd lost control of the situation. "Tha' obvious am I?" He asked.
Heather smiled and nodded, saying, "I dinno' fall out o' th' turnip-cart yesterday, y'know. As t' your question, I was born 'n Dublintown..." She then went on to explain that she was the youngest in her family and her parents were well-to-do merchants who owned several small quarries and sold stone for buildings and statuary. She was in Britain to learn painting and sculpting because she had no interest in being a stonecutter for the rest of her life.
They talked and laughed for quite a while, not noticing the lengthening shadows as day gave way to dusk and dusk to night. Stabb limped his way to them and pointedly suggested that they either find an inn or make some sort of provision for a night's rest. Will remembered a nearby inn and he, Heather and Stabb used what little money they had between them to take a meal and a room.
"...I mean, what could I do, Sir? I couldn't very well've struck them down in cold blood, could I?"
Sullivan sat listening as the young wolf finished his report of the days disastrous events. "No, son," He sighed, massaging the fur between his eyes to alleviate the growing ache there. "You did the right thing. I suppose that we should all be thankful that this didn't degenerate into a riot situation. I shudder at the thought that our streets might someday flow with rivers of the blood of His Majesty's subjects." He absentmindedly turned Stabb's Troop-Captain insignia-pin over in his paw. Once, a long time ago, Sullivan himself had worn one just like it; and back then, at least in his mind, it may even have actually meant something. But now it was nothing more than a worthless hunk of sculpted, gold-plated tin symbolizing blind obedience to a King who seemed to be growing more unstable by the day. Stabb had probably been right to resign his commission when he did. Earlier in the day Jenner had signed a number of decrees that promised to reduce the animals of Britain to abject slavery, in fact if not name. The most troubling of them stripped all but a very few landholders of deeds under the premise that all of Britain belonged to the King and only he could legally buy, sell or grant lands. Sullivan knew that this would bring the animals dislike of their King to; if not sheer hatred, than something mighty close. But he also knew that, in terms of his political power, Jenner was now too strong to overthrow by non-violent means. He had too many "friends in high places" who had too much to lose if their roles in the deaths of his brother and his brother's Chancellor were ever discovered.
Sullivan placed the badge on his desk and said, "Look, I know that it's probably a bit early in your career to get saddled with this kind of responsibility; but I'm in need of a cool head right now." He leaned back in his chair and began to rub &the; tense muscles at the back of his neck. "I just happen to have a Troop-Captain position open, if you want it.
The Sergeant looked as if he might lose his composure for a moment, but he remained at attention and simply said, "Yes sir, I'd like that very much, sir."
Sullivan handed the wolf the Troop-Captain's badge and took possession of the Sergeant's stripes as he carefully peeled them from the sleeves of his coat. "By the way, soldier," He asked, "What's your name? So I can put it in the paybook."
"Gisbourne, Sir. Troop-Captain Giles Gisbourne." The wolf said proudly.
He then dismissed the newly re-commissioned officer and, after exchanging salutes, closed his office door. He then began to set pen to parchment; it was time to have another meeting with The Voice and his crowd again.
A cool breeze whispered through the pre-dawn late-Summer air. A few stars still shown through thin whisps of cloud in the still-dark canopy of sky.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Dr. Ages asked, a grave concern in his voice. "Remember, there's still that reward on your head!"
Justin adjusted a strap on his backpack and said, "Look, it's not about want; this is something I have to do, NEED to do! My past has eluded me all these years and I'm on the verge of finally discovering who I really am!"
Ages shrugged, resigning himself to his inability to talk Justin out of this potentially dangerous fool's errand. He had given Justin the two books that he'd brought with him from his now-demolished home. They were a record of every scrap of information that he'd been able to collect about Justin and his late half-brother. Justin had stayed up numerous nights since the discovery of their relationship poring over the two volumes and marvelling at the subtle similarities, as well as the obvious differences, between himself and Jonathan. Both had risen to the top of their respective fields by a dogged persistence and a willingness to adapt their thinking and actions to whatever circumstances their situation demanded. Both, while growing up in radically different childhood environments, had excelled in their respective educational surroundings. Justin had told Ages in secret that he'd decided that he must see for himself whatever might remain of the Locksley estate in order to find out whether he might uncover more information about his past. Ages, leaning on the crutch that Justin had fashioned for him, held out his paw and said, "Well, if you're so bound and determined to make this trip, I guess that I can only wish you a prosperous journey and ask you to take extra care not to place yourself at unnecessary risk."
Justin took Ages' paw and gripped it firmly. "Don't worry, you old goat, I'll be back safe and sound; you'll see!" He said, a wry smile coming to his face. "You just remember to tell Marian and the kids why I felt that I had to do this alone; it may not make them feel any better, but I think they'll understand eventually." He then turned and began striding purposefully toward the path that led to the main road.
"Good luck, boy, and may the spirits keep you safe." Ages whispered. He then rubbed the tears that were forming out of his eyes and began limping back to the cottage.
Will, Heather and Stabb checked out of the inn at the first light of dawn. They had no more money left and knew that; until they found the fugitive fox known as Justin, IF he could be found at all; they would have to live by their wits or skills alone. It was Heather who sat them down during one of their breaks in their walking and had them list some of their talents. Will, of course, demonstrated his acrobatic skills; impressing both of his companions; and told them of his farming expertise. Heather showed them some of her sketches and drawings and told them of her housekeeping abilities. Stabb; skeptical of just where this was leading, but not wishing to be a total pessimist; thought hard and told them that aside from fighting, he knew several escape and evasion techniques that required an ability and willingness to live off the land. He told them how he knew what plants or seeds, besides what were grown in the fields and sold at the markets, were safe to eat; even if a few were less than appetizing. Heather immediately put him in charge of the group, pointing out that he was the oldest and most experienced in decision-making. Stabb made a show of being reluctant, but commented with a gentle irony to Will when she was out of earshot that he was not fooled for a second as to who the real leader of this tiny band was. Will nodded his agreement and simply asked the weasel to play along anyway, which Stabb agreed to do.
They spent most of the rest of the morning walking as Stabb explained the finer points of survival without the trappings of civilization. After some prodding; he also, reluctantly, told them of his days fighting as a mercenary for the Continental Empires, even tearfully confessing to his taste for enemy blood. Much to his surprise and relief, they had not expressed revulsion on hearing this; but had comforted him and tried to encourage him by telling him that, while he couldn't change his past, they could see that he was trying to change himself, and hopefully his future, for the better.
"Oh, Doctor! How COULD you?" Mrs. Brisbee cried. "You should have told me that he was going to do this!" She and Theresa held each other and tried to fight back their tears. Cynthia had fled to another part of the cottage and could be heard sniffling occasionally. Martin and Timothy tried their best to console their mother and older sister, but were themselves on the edge of tears. The children had been ecstatic when their mother had informed them of their familial relation to Justin and had pleaded to hear him tell stories about himself every night before bedtime.
"Believe me, Mrs. Brisbee, I was sorely tempted to do just that!" He said earnestly, "But Justin has his own reasons for doing this. Like you, he has yet to fully reconcile himself to the loss of his half-brother and best friend. But the sudden discovery that he actually has a past beyond the memories in this house, as well as a last name, has made him curious of his heritage. He fully realizes the danger of his journey, and he hopes that you'll understand the reason that he felt he had to make it."
Mrs. Brisbee sniffed back her tears and reluctantly nodded. "Yes, I suppose I do." She whispered. "I'm just afraid of losing my only living link to Jonathan."
Ages took one of her paws in his and said, "Justin is one of the smartest and wiliest animals I know. If anyone can navigate the dangers that he faces, it's him."
Mrs. Brisbee again nodded and whispered, "I know. Thank you."
Ages then excused himself and tottered off to Jeremy's room. The rooster was out of danger but still required a good deal of care as his burns slowly healed and his feathers began to grow back, covering the scarring on his skin. Ages own leg was healing and the scar from that injury was, as Justin had predicted, quite large.
"What do we do now?" Theresa asked.
Mrs. Brisbee composed herself and gathered the children; including Cynthia, whom Timothy had found and led back; around her and said quietly, "We'll just have to hope that your Uncle finds the answers that he's looking for. Dr. Ages was right when he said that Justin can take care of himself and we, too, owe him this confidence. In the meantime, we're still a family and we must depend on each other to get us through until his return, whenever that may be."
The children nodded and she told them to go outside and play until she called them in for lunch. After they were outside, she went to the window that faced the road and bowed her head, saying a silent prayer to the spirits that they keep Justin from harm.
The meeting that Sullivan had requested of the forces opposed to the rule of "Jenner the Cruel" as he was now being called, although certainly not to his face, was set up at a location deemed acceptable to both parties. Like their last meeting, the conspirators had disguised themselves in some kind of masks or hoods and backlit themselves with small candles.
The Voice, as Sullivan had come to think of their leader, called the meeting to order. "What is so important that you've found it necessary to endanger all our lives by calling us here?" It demanded.
Sullivan stood to address the conspirators. He had been memorizing this speech throughout the day and, while he knew that he was no public Orator, he hoped that his words would have some influence with them. "The time that you or I could have toppled King Jenner without bloodshed is, I'm sorry to say, past..."
"Tell us something we don't know!" The Voice interjected sarcastically. "Now Jenner's trying to steal the very Earth from under our feet!" The Land Repossession Decree had been made public just hours before the meeting had begun. Much to Sullivan's horror and regret, rioting had broken out among the inhabitants of the City; and while the streets were not yet awash in rivers of the blood of British subjects, many were comparing the uproar to the worst days of the interfactional brawling during the Continental Wars. With nightfall, it had all simmered down to small isolated pockets of scuffles between the local constabulary, who were trained only in maintaining public order by as non-violent means as possible, and roving bands of irate lower-class workers; whose home was very often the only thing between them and a future of seeking alms; or students protesting the proposed closing of several of the universities.
The other conspirators nodded and whispered their agreement. After this commotion died down, the Voice said, "Since our first meeting, Captain, the situation in this city has only become more volatile. Your employer has enslaved the homeless and alms-seekers in all but name by forcing them to work lands owned by his wealthiest friends by day and incarcerating them in the Debtors Prisons by night. He's closed the only orphanage large enough to deal with all of the homeless children on our streets. Remember that waif that you brought to them a few weeks ago? He and dozens of others like him are back out on the streets having to scrape through the garbage for their daily bread because none of the orphanages that Jenner ordered them sent to had the room to accommodate them and were forced to send them back onto the streets!" The Voice now took on a tone of utter contempt. "At least the Troop-Captain that you sent to do Jenner's dirty deed had the sense and honor to ultimately refuse to carry out the order and resign his post!"
The other conspirators broke out in applause when the Voice had finished. Sullivan glared angrily at them for not hearing him out, but knew that the Voice was right. "What would you have me do?" He asked.
"Our previous offer still stands, even if your chances of collecting on it grow smaller by the day. But you should also be aware that we're exploring, shall we say, other avenues when it comes to dealing with the King." The Voice stated.
"Other avenues?" Sullivan asked, instantly suspicious. "If you're planning something, you'd best let me in on it! Knocking off Jenner is fine by me, but some of my Guards have families to support!"
"Your concern for your subordinates is touching." The Voice said, dripping with sarcasm. "But you need not worry. We, too, wish to avoid shedding ’innocent’ blood. We can promise that none of your charges will come to harm as long as none of them actively interferes with our plans."
Sullivan arched a skeptical brow. "And how am I supposed to know when one of them is in danger of meeting your criteria for 'active interference'?"
"Just keep them to their daily routine. As long as you don't make any major variations to their work or training schedules, we'll know that our own avenue for dealing with Jenner is unobstructed." The Voice assured him.
Sullivan nodded. Unwittingly or not; and Sullivan didn't believe for a second that the Voice did anything without good reason; It had revealed that this cabal, whoever they were, had somehow infiltrated one of their own agents into the King's Guard, HIS King's Guard, without his having suspected it in the least. Strangely, Sullivan wasn't angry at this breach of security but was actually somewhat relieved. If he could somehow manipulate events carefully enough, he might be able to use this agent to kill Jenner then, if he acted quickly enough, kill the assassin without anyone suspecting his role in the two deaths and still walk away with his life, a Title and the Amulet. The problem with that was: where was the Amulet?
Sullivan was brought back from his thoughts by the Voice. "This is acceptable then, Captain?" Sullivan grunted his affirmation.
"Good. This meeting's adjourned." The voice instructed Sullivan to wait for the last candle left lit after the conspirators had gone from the room to go out before he should attempt to leave.
Sullivan spent the time waiting to consider his options. Remaining loyal to Jenner was out of the question. Even if His Majesty's star was still on the rise his kingdom lay, if not on the brink of civil war, then uncomfortably close to it. Power, influence and money were the only things that the King understood. If you didn't happen to have them or an intimate understanding of how they could be used in a mutually beneficial manner, you were nothing more than a pair of idle hands to be put to work in the crop fields of those who did.
Outright assassination was an option only if one had no qualms about the probability of having ones own life ended violently in the process; which Sullivan, being the consummate survivor, had no stomach for.
He'd seriously considered resigning his commission, but the thought of walking away from a prize, even as ill-gotten and dishonored as this one had become, that he'd worked so hard to obtain was too much to bear. Besides; in his spite, Jenner would no doubt consign him to one of his rich friend's fields to slave away the rest of his life alongside the other anonymous poor to "serve the Glory of his King".
His last option, while the most dangerous of them all, offered the greatest chance of success. In effect, he would be tying his own strings to the strings of whatever puppet the conspirators were going to try to use against Jenner. The problem would be in trying to discover the identity of the puppet and tying his own strings to it without tipping off the true owners or the puppet itself; who may not even be aware that he WAS being manipulated!
The room went completly dark. Sullivan then heard the door open and saw a young female squirrel, probably six or seven years old, carrying a small lantern. "Captain Sullivan? Captain Sullivan, are you still here?" She timidly whispered.
Sullivan stood and gave a polite, if perfunctory, bow. "I'm still here, child." He said.
She held the lantern out and peered into the dimness of the room. "My father says that you can come out now." She said shyly.
"Your father?" He asked, hoping that this girl might give him some clue as to the identity of the conspirators.
"The Innkeeper." She said, "Daddy needs to clean this room for the Coopersmiths Guild meeting tonight."
"But I thought that they were just here." He said, trying to trip her up.
The squirrel giggled and said, "You must be really confused, Captain Sullivan. The ones who just left were the Society to Maintain the Rule of the King, whatever that's supposed to mean." She tilted her head questioningly to one side when Sullivan chuckled to himself. "What's so funny?" She asked.
"Oh, you are a clever one aren't you my enigmatic acquaintance!" He thought to himself. The choice of such a name would no doubt have amused even Jenner. He dug two crown out of a vest pocket and gave them to the little squirrel. "Buy yourself something at the Market tomorrow, child." He said. He then slipped out the door, leaving a confused and elated young girl behind.
Lady Euphigenia Kluck tossed and turned as she struggled to relax enough to fall into a peaceful slumber. The news out of Britain was grim and growing worse by the day. From her home in the city of Edwin's Bourough, one of the few truly civilized places in The Scottish Lands, she had been worrying about the welfare of the young fox who had once been her best friend when she herself had been a Lady-of-the-Court; before that fox's marriage to a smart, handsome, recently Titled, and best of all, single, young Chancellor.
But just after the marriage Kluck had been called home to tend to her mother, who was well-advanced in age and very frail; although she still possessed a mind as sharp as her tongue. With the death of her mother just days ago (she had lived over twice the usual lifespan of a chicken; surviving the Plague, nine mates and parentage of almost three dozen broods), Kluck was growing less and less comfortable with the thought of remaining in her late mother's house by the day. It was not for lack of happy memories, goodness knew. Kluck's mother; while a strict, Old-School matriarch; had been a gentle, wise and loving parent always fiercely concerned with the well-being of her scattered offspring.
But several weeks ago she'd seen a posting of a reward for the capture, dead or alive, of a female fox who was accused of being a member of a conspiracy; along with a once trusted but now disgraced physician, a badger who fit the description of old Dr. Ages; that was suspected of having been responsible for the death of King Nicodemus and his Chancellor and was now supposedly plotting the assassination of the present Ruler. The charges against the two supposed plotters had been very vague, but the one piece of information that had caught her immediate attention was the mention that the fox would probably have four young rabbits, two boys and two girls. Marian's last letter, written almost a year ago, had mentioned that she and her husband were in the process of adopting some rabbits whose parents had apparently abandoned them at the King's Orphanage; also two boys and two girls.
This had made no sense to Kluck. Marian had been one of King Nicodemus's most loyal courtiers. Kluck herself had recommended Marian for the Administrator-of-Household post just before her return to her native city. And none of her infrequent letters to Kluck had indicated any kind of dissatisfaction with either the King or his rule. And that Marian, even if she had been party to some plot to overthrow her Sovereign, would have allowed her own husband to be killed along with him? This was absolutely unthinkable! "No," She thought to herself as she rolled over on her side for the umpteenth time that night, "Something is terribly wrong with this whole picture." She resolved then and there to find both her friend and, if possible, the truth about this whole affair.
Mrs. Brisbee, too, lay awake. Emotionally, she felt as if her world were nothing more than a sea of bitter tears; the children and Justin her only islands of refuge. That Justin had left without telling her was bad enough; although, in truth, her intellectual processes actually DID understand his reasons for doing so. But she had already lost two important figures in her life; and the thought that there was even the slimmest possibility of losing a third...
She felt yet another tear roll down the fur of her cheek and squeezed her eyes shut in anger and frustration. "Damn you, Justin!" She thought to herself. "I love you too much to lose you now! Every time I look into your eyes I see Jonathan's soul looking back and telling me that there's still hope that the children and I can somehow put our lives back together! But without that reassurance I feel like a storm-tossed boat without a sail or rudder, adrift and on the verge of sinking!" She sniffed and wiped her eye with the edge of her sheet. Sleep, at least restful sleep, had been an evasive commodity since this whole vile episode had begun just a few months before.
"Damn YOU most of all, Jenner!" She hissed into the cool night air. Only that afternoon, Toby's father had shown her, Jeremy and Ages one of the reward postings that was circulating through the Kingdom. Somehow Jenner had shifted the implication for King Nicodemus and Jonathan's death toward her and the Doctor. The constable had assured them that no one in the Kingdom could possibly believe such an outrageous fabrication. But when Ages told him how Jenner had laid the exquisitely constructed plot that had resulted in his own exile, the tortoise had expressed skepticism. "You've just proved my point!" Ages had replied sternly. "Jenner only needed to sustain that tiny bit of doubt in order to ruin Nicodemus's trust in my loyalties. Once a well is poisoned," He'd pointed out, "It can be many years before anyone chances another sip from its waters!" The constable had been amazed by the simplicity of Ages logic and reaffirmed his earlier promise of discrete support.
She gave up trying to fall asleep and slipped on a robe that had once belonged to Justin's adoptive mother. A fewfeet away Justin's bed, made with crisp military precision, served only to add to the pain that she felt. She tried to imagine the contours of his sleeping form under the quilted blanket, but could only see a flat, empty surface.
Taking care not to disturb the others, she made her way through the house. Ages wheezy snore could be heard. Jeremy sometimes snored too, but this night he was quiet. She stopped by the children's room and gazed upon them. Theresa, as was her habit, had thrown off her bedclothes at some point and was tightly hugging her pillow. Martin, a mouth-breather, was drooling onto his pillow. Cynthia, when scared, sometimes preferred to strip the "blankies" off her mattress and seek an illusory safety under her bed; such was the case tonight. Timothy was not in his bed, although it had been slept in.
She left the house and strolled to the creek, the light of a waxing gibbous moon giving her enough light to navigate the path before her. A slight late-Summers breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees and a few crickets still chirruped.
Silhouetted and facing the gurgling water, Timothy sat cross-legged on the grassy bank. "Couldn't sleep, right?" He asked.
"No." she said, sitting down next to him. "I was going to ask you the same question."
"I had another dream." He replied. "It wasn't scary like the ones about dad or the fire."
"What was it about?" She asked.
"I'm not really sure." He said, cocking his head to one side. "I saw animals walking on a road. I couldn't tell what kind they were, but it seemed like there were about three; maybe four of them. They were walking like they were looking for someone."
"Is that all there was?" She asked. "Do you remember anything else?"
Timothy nodded. "Uncle Justin's safe. I saw that in my dream." He placed a paw gently on her sleeve. "Mom, are you gonna marry him?" He asked.
Mrs. Brisbee was taken aback by the directness of his question. "Why do you ask?"
"I dunno." He said. "Up until this morning you two were always together. An' he reminds me a lot of dad, y'know always lookin' out for us an' seein' that we get our baths in the morning an' we don't go t' bed without brushin' our teeth. Like dad used to."
She gently picked him up and placed him in her lap, embracing him in a protective hug, and began gently rocking him. "Yes, Timothy, Justin is a lot like your father. He loves you and your brother and sisters very much and feels that he must bear responsibility for raising you in the way that he believes your father would have tried to. But he also feels that in order to do that he needs to know who he is and if he can fulfill that duty properly. It doesn't make the fact that he left any less painful, but I know deep in my heart that he needs to learn about his past in order to find a direction for his future."
Timothy nodded his understanding. "Just like a ship needs a map to find its way home." He said.
"Yes." Mrs. Brisbee whispered, "Just like that."
They spent a while longer listening to the sounds of the night before Timothy yawned and rested his head on his mother's shoulder and fell asleep. She gently carried him to the house and tucked him into his bed. She then crept quietly to her own and crawled under the sheets. In a few minutes, she was asleep; dreaming of ships sailing on a peaceful sea.
Heather awoke slowly and opened one eye, then blinked both open.
"G'morning." Stabb said quietly. He was leaning on the sill of a broken-out window frame, staring into the morning's first light. They had found the abandoned building, an inn by the look of it, late the previous afternoon and made themselves as comfortable as possible under the circumstances in an upstairs room; gathering enough wildfruits, nuts and seeds to make a modest, if rather bland, meal.
"Is Will still asleep?" She asked, careful to keep her voice low.
"He left a little while ago t' see if he could get us some food an' a few supplies. Said he'll be back sometime soon." The weasel said.
Heather nodded and then began digging around in her pack.
Stabb regarded her curiously as she brought out her sketch pad and a pencil and began to sketch him.
Heather smiled. "Could ye please look out th' window, Mr. Stabb? It makes ye look s' handsome when th' light shines on ye just so. Bye-the-bye, me father knows a Cecil Stabb in Wales. Are ye related?" She asked.
Stabb thought a moment then shrugged. "I dunno. Possibly." He said, "Might be a very distant cousin 'r something. Far as I know, I'm the last of my clan; the Blacktails. The rest died in the wars and the Plague years ago."
Heather stopped her sketching and nodded. "Aye, me grandfather used t' tell us about his service in th' Plague Camps. Said it was th' most fright'nin' time o' his life."
"The wars an' Plague touched everybody." Stabb said, his voice heavy with regret. "I can't count the number of families that I deprived of a father, a brother or a son. I suppose that in my youthI was full of fire an' thought I could take on the world. But now I'm old, an' tired of fightin' an' the killin' that goes with it. If I have anymore years left in me I want t' live 'em in peace without havin' t' look over my shoulder t' see who's tryin' t' stick a sword in my back."
Heather looked downcast. "I hope ye get your wish." She said softly.
"That's up to the spirits I suppose." he replied. Then his face brightened a bit. "Let me see your handiwork, girl. No one's ever immortalized me on paper before."
"Give me a few minutes t' add some finishin' touches." She said. She resumed her work and for several minutes her pencil flew over the page as she captured every detail she could, Stabb watching with interest the range of emotions that unconsciously brightened and darkened her face. She then got up from her ersatz bed, some ragged quilts and blankets left by the former occupants, and walked over and showed him the result of her labor.
"Not bad!" He said, amazed at how a bunch of; to his untrained eyes at least; lines and squiggles could be made to coalesce into a fairly detailed portrait. He noted that she had even correctly defined the exact shape of an old scar that ran down one side of his face from forehead to cheek. "May I keep this?" He asked. Heather nodded. Stabb carefully rolled the drawing up, fastened it with a piece of string and placed it into the wallet that hung from his belt.
"I still have plenty t' learn, believe me." She said modestly. "I'm only in me third year o' classes." She then sighed and went to her backpack and began carefully putting her belongings into it. "But now that tha' tyrant Jenner's closed all bu' th' agricultural an' engineerin' schools, I'll have t' find some other way t' finish me education."
Stabb genuinely wished that there was something that he could say or do to help this young innocent. But he knew far more about leading troops into battle than consoling fledgling artists.
At that moment, in the distance, a stick could be heard being broken underfoot. Stabb motioned Heather to silence and kept watch through the dilapidated window-frame. A few minutes later Will appeared, laboring under a large canvas sack and three bedrolls that had been tied together.
"'Sall right." He told her. "It's just th' hayseed."
They went down and helped the fox bring his load up to their room. "Whew! I di'n't think I'd make i' back!" He said, sitting down against a wall and gasping for air. "This stuff gets pretty 'eavy aft'r a while!"
Heather began emptying the sack as Stabb untied the bedrolls. "Where did ye get all o' this stuff?" She asked, lining each item from the bag up for a spot-inventory.
"One o' my uncles on my mum's side lives a ways from 'ere an' when I 'splained our fix..."
"You TOLD him we're on therun?" Stabb asked, appalled by this development. "We're out here lookin for an outlaw! Hell, boy, we may already be outlaws ourselves!"
"Don' worry!" Will said, unfazed by Stabb's concern. "'E's as much mad a' th' King as we are!Seems 'is Greediness 'as decreed tha', wi' a few excepshuns, all lands in private paws are now proper'y o' th' Crown. 'E cou'n't wai' t' 'elp us fin' this Just'n fella!"
"Wait! Wait!" Stabb exclaimed, "Jenner'd be crazy to do something like that! He's risking a civil war!"
"'Ey, I saw a copy o' th' decree m'self! Crazy or no', 'e's serious abou' i'!"
"You two can argue politics some other time!" Heather said sharply. "We'd better be leavin' this place 'r someone's bound t' discover us!"
Will and Stabb looked at the rubble-and-junk-strewn floor in chagrined silence. "She's right, y'know." Stabb muttered, "Sun's gettin' higher every minute."
Will nodded and the trio began to quietly repack the various items that Will had brought backamong themselves.
A short time later, Will and Stabb replaced what was left of the door to the building on its broken and rusty hinges and continued their search for the, so far, elusive Justin.
Justin had been on the move since well before sunrise. He had awakened with a start during an incredibly vivid dream. In it, he had been pursued by an unknown but incredibly evil force. When he'd attempted to draw his sword, he'd found the scabbard empty. He had then turned to confront it and had found himself face-to-face with a monstrous creature that looked like some vile, unholy fusion of both himself and Jenner. When he'd tried to run again, the creature had used a long whip to entangle his legs and bring him down hard to the ground. Then he'd tried to untangle the whip from his legs, but it had taken on a life of its own and entangled his wrists as well. He'd struggled desperately to free himself as the demon-creature approached, saying, "YOU HAVEN'T THE COURAGE TO FACE ME! I SHALL DESTROY YOU AND THAT WHICH YOU MOST CHERISH!" A sword, which Justin recognized as his own, then appeared in the creature's paw and he raised it as if to strike. All of a sudden, he'd found himself standing at the helm of a sailing vessel in a tranquil sea; Marian at his side. She gazed at him questioningly, her expression a mixture of both sadness and joy. He knew without asking that she wanted to know why he had left her in the manner in which he had. But her expression had also told him that she knew the purpose of this voyage and that she understood why it had to be made. He had tried to tell her that he would return as soon as he was able, but her image had begun to fade out of sight.
"Don't worry, mother understands." A voice that sounded like Timothy's stated. "I told her that you're safe."
He'd then found himself sitting bolt-upright in his bedroll, sweating profusely in the cool of the pre-dawn night. He'd tried to get himself back to sleep, but he'd been so unnerved by the night-time vision that he decided that movement, even in the darkness of the forest, was preferable to lying awake until sunrise.
He'd covered quite a bit of ground in the last few hours even though he'd stayed away from all signs of civilization. The Sun had risen, but the forest floor received only a meager amount of its light. But his surroundings were very familiar and he knew that he was close to his destination. He followed a barely visible path to a small stream and followed the stream to a cleared heath. At the far end, he could see a tiny thatched-roof cottage. A curl of smoke from the chimney told him that its residents were awake.
He noislessly made his way to the door and gave it a soft knock. "Linney, are y'home? It's me! Justin!" He called out as quietly as possible. He heard footfalls on the bare wood floor and then the rough-hewn door opened.
"Justin! Is that really you?" Asked the female fox, staring at him through sightless eyes.
"Yeah, Sis, in the fur. Where's Galen?" Justin asked, placing his paw in his adoptive older sister's when she reached out.
She quickly brought him inside and sat him in a nearby chair in front of the fireplace. "Would you like something to eat or drink? Tea perhaps? Or some veggie stew?"
"I suppose I could use some stew. I didn't get to eat breakfast." Justin said politely.
"I'll be just a few moments." She replied and headed toward the kitchen.
Linnette, the oldest of Justin's adoptive sisters, had been born during the height of the Plague and had contracted a serious case of it before her first year. Miraculously, she had survived; but by her third birthday she had gone completly blind. This had not meant that she had been left helpless. Far from it, in fact! Linney had been as rowdy as any of the other children in the extended family that Justin had been adopted into and had played, fought and worked just as hard. A few adaptations in lifestyle had been called for, but Justin had always treated his sister with a certain unnameable combination of love, loyalty, awe and; on those extremely rare occasions when she had tried to use her blindness to gain some unfair advantage over her siblings and cousins or wallow in self pity; a small amount of playful disrespect.
Eventually, she had married a farmer, Galen, and they had moved to this isolated heath.
"Galen's at our field." Linnette said from the kitchen. She and Galen, along with several otherpoor families, had bought a small plot of land and shared in the work in exchange for an eventual share of the harvest. She quickly returned and handed Justin the bowl of stew and a spoon. "I'm going out there later to take him his lunch. You're welcome to come along if you wish." She said as she made her way to her chair and sat down.
"No." Justin said, "But I do have something very important to tell you." He then related the events of the past several months, including his discovery of his true parentage and his desire to find the Locksley Estate. He read her passages from Dr. Ages biographies of himself and Jonathan as well as his mother's letter, and he let her hold the Birthday locket.
"I-I'm not sure what to say." She stammered, a tear running down one cheek. "I mean, I'm glad that you've found your real parents; I know it's something that you'd wanted all your life. And I'm glad that you have..." She paused a moment to correct herself. "Had a half-brother, even if the time that you got to spend together was far too short. And I think it's wonderful that you're taking the responsibility for protecting his widow and children."
"Then why are you sad?" Justin asked.
"I suppose I'm just afraid that in this excitement to find who you might have become, you'll forget who you actually are. True, mom and dad weren't Jonathan and Emma Locksley or Lawrence Brisbee; but even though our family never lived in the lap of luxury I can't remember a night when any of us went to bed without a full belly and the promise that, no matter what kind of problem might befall us in the future, mom and dad would be there to listen to us and help guide us through it and, most importantly, love us for who we are."
Justin got up from his chair and knelt in front of his sister and took her paws in his own. "Linney, I could no more forget or forsake my adoptive family than I could forget my own name. I'm doing this to enhance my knowledge of my past, not to replace my past. My debt of gratitude to mama, papa and you and all the &others; for all the love that you've given me over the years is unrepayable."
Linnette slid one of her paws from her adoptive brothers clasp and began gently stroking the soft fur of his muzzle and face. "No, little brother, you've repaid such a debt; if it ever existed at all; many, many times over. I don't know why they never showed you the box or the locket or the letter; perhaps the thought of losing you was simply too much for them to bear. I can still remember that first night when you were away after they'd enlisted you in the King's Guard. None of us could sleep because we missed you so much. Mom and dad cried in each others arms and more than once dad questioned the wisdom of his decision. But they knew that you needed an education in order to have the kind of future that you truly deserved." Linnette then stood and, after helping Justin to his feet, lovingly hugged her adoptive brother. "Whatever you may think of mom and dad for keeping your past before your adoption a secret, I hope you'll always remember that they never, ever meant to hurt you."
"I know." Justin said, "A wise old soul recently pointed out to me that even if I had known whoI really am it probably wouldn't have changed anything. Mama and papa had no reason to believe that my real mother was still alive and looking for me."
He then picked up the now-empty bowl and spoon and handed them to Linnette. "I don't suppose you could spare s'more stew for this hungry vagabond, eh? Us wanderers never know when we'll be able to get a decent home-cooked meal."
Linnette giggled. "Flattery will get you everywhere, little brother." She playfully chided him. She then went to the kitchen and returned with Justin's bowl, as well as one for herself, and they spent a while reminiscing about the joys of simpler times in a large and loving family.
Finally, Linnette reminded Justin that she had to take her husband his lunch. Justin gave his sister one last hug and good-bye kiss and, feeling much refreshed, continued his journey with a renewed sense of mission.
Pain. Such pain. The pounding in Brutus's head was just more than he could bear. He tried to open his eyes but the blinding light of the room only made the pounding and the pain that much worse. He let out a long, loud groan.
"Ah, sir, you're awake." A familiar voice said.
Brutus groaned again. One by one, his rational thought processes began to kick themselves into activity. He tried again to open his eyes, but once more the light overwhelmed him. "Deputy." He grunted.
"Sir?" The voice asked.
"Why is it so damn BRIGHT in here?" Brutus demanded. A wave of agony and nausea enveloped him, making him wish that he could fall back to sleep. Or die. He didn't really care too much at the moment just as long as it meant an end to the awful pain.
"Oh! Uh, sorry, uh, I'll...uh, I'll get that, sir!" The voice exclaimed. The room, whichever room it was that he was in, began growing perceptibly darker as Brutus could hear curtains or drapes being pulled across windows.
As soon as the noises stopped, Brutus once again ventured a peek at his surroundings. He brought a massive paw up to shield his eyes against whatever excess light remained to lance into his aching brain. He slowly blinked his tired eyes open and, after an initial twinge, they adjusted themselves to this more tolerable level. He slowly brought his paw away from his face and took in his surroundings. To his dismay he realized that he was lying in the holding cell of his own Jail. The iron bars of the room surrounded him on three sides; while he knew without having to look that he lay on a large stone slab attached to a many-feet-thick stone wall. The Deputy who belonged to the voice; a young, over-eager, wet-behind-the-ears weasel named Wendell Cravenbrook; stood on the other side of the bars, his pink nose twitching in anticipation. "Deputy." He grunted again.
"Sir?" the Deputy asked.
"Why am I locked in my own holding cell?" Brutus asked, slowly lifting himself to a sitting position.
"Oh, gee, sir! Don't you remember, sir?" The weasel began, "You got into a fight with some of the soldiers from the local troop. I'm not sure who started it or why, but I heard that you whupped seven 'r eight of 'em single-pawed! I hear one of 'em's even got a broken arm 'r leg..."
"Enough, Deputy!" Brutus exclaimed. It was all coming back to him now. The Land Repossession Decree had landed on his desk that morning along with all the otherusual bureaucratic junk that His Majesty's courier delivered each morning. He had read in disbelief how King Jenner had, with the stroke of a pen, deprived all but a chosen few of his own subjects of their rightful property or, worse yet, their livelihood. He'd locked himself in his office the rest of the day and debated what course of action to pursue. Simply posting the decree and expecting his constituents to swallow their pride as well as the loss of their lands was out of the question. In certain instances, a piece of land might have belonged to a family for several generations. He'd thought about writing a letter of complaint to Jenner. But he knew that not only would such a complaint be ignored, but Jenner would rightfully point out to him that, as Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, Brutus himself was not only exempt from the effects of the decree; but he had acquired plenty of land himself by taking a percentage of tax foreclosures.
In the end, he'd done what he'd been doing almost every night since about mid-Summer; he'd had one of his Deputies post the decree and then walked to the local public house and drank himself into a stupor.
He remembered very little about the fight; other than that one of the soldiers had made some smart-ass remark about how the peasants would now have to put up or shut up in respect to their allegiance to the King, which he'd taken as a personal insult. He could only guess that he'd attacked the soldiers, apparently inflicting grievous injury on several of them. Then, somehow, he'd been subdued and ended up in the holding cell.
Brutus hung his head in shame. As Sheriff of his Shire he was sworn to keep the peace and uphold the laws of the Crown and the King on whose head it rested. But Jenner was growing more tyrannical by the day and his so-called "laws" were, directly and indirectly, bringing untold misery to those under his rule. That Brutus himself had helped Jenner ascend the throne only added to the pain of the shame that he felt. But now he was becoming no better than a drunken street brawler.
He tried to stagger to his feet, but his legs were shaking like those of a cub attempting its first steps. "Deputy." He sighed.
"Sir?" Wendell said expectantly.
With all the patience he could muster Brutus slowly asked, "Would you please open that DAMN door and help me to my DAMN feet and help me to my DAMN office?"
A stroke of realization hit the weasel like a lightning bolt. "Oh! Uh, yeah! Uh, jus' a second!" He scooted over to a nail on the wall above the watch-desk on which hung a large ring of keys. He then quickly unlocked the cell door and helped the bear to his office.
Once Brutus had dismissed the Deputy, he scrawled out the letter that he knew he should have written the day before. He placed it in an envelope and placed it in the basket of correspondence to be picked up by the King's Courier. He also wrote out a letter of resignation and placed it in his safe.
He then lay his head on the desk and began weeping softly.
Justin stood under the massive arch of the door in awed silence. The last rays of the late-Summer sun gleamed off of the gold of the family crest, still untarnished even after years of neglect. The manor-house was a massive and still beautiful, if somewhat dilapidated, testimony to the stonemason's art. Over the years many of the beautiful stained-glass windows had fallen victim to the stones of vandals and a portion of the rear wall had collapsed, leaving what looked to be the kitchen exposed to the elements.
The Locksley Estate had not been difficult to find. He had asked various peasants for directions and they invariably told him to follow the gravel road that branched off to the left of the main road and paralleled a small brook. But the peasants had also warned him that the manor-house and its lands were cursed by the spirits and best left alone.
But he decided that, curse or not, he must start the search for his past at the place of his birth.
He picked up the lantern that stood at his feet and walked a close perimeter around the house. He tried to imagine what this dark, cold edifice must have been like when he, as a child, his parents and the various servants were there to make the place a hive of activity. But try as he might, such an image would not come. It saddened him to realize that he had absolutely no memories of his life before the orphanage and his adoption.
As soon as he completed his patrol, he headed to the breach in the wall and; making his way carefully through the small pile of rubble (he suspected that the pile should have been somewhat larger and that not a few of the houses in the surrounding area could claim at least one stone from this wall) ;into the house.
What once must have been one of the most luxurious manor-houses in all Britain had been stripped bare of just about all furniture and ornamentation. Here and there the pieces of a broken something-or-other littered one of the many rooms, but he decided that everything that might have held any monetary value was gone.
Justin sadly shook his head and trudged to what must have been the Grand Dining Hall. In the dim light of his lantern, he could make out the faded outlines of various scenes from British history and legend painted on the walls; which themselves were covered in a layer of accumulated dirt and grimy mold. A damp, rotting, threadbare rug covered the inlaid wooden floor; which was still in immaculate condition in spite of the depredations of Nature.
He was meandering toward the Grand Staircase admiring the vast size of the room, which rivaled anything in the Royal Palace, when he felt a strange sensation underfoot. Through his footpads he could feel some sort of pattern of bumps in the floor. He got down on his paws and knees and began to probe the vicinity. After a while he determined that the bumps were within a relatively small, roughly circular area. He tried to rip away the section of rug that covered the mysterious pattern but the fibers, though slimy with mildew, were still strong enough to withstand his assault. He drew his dagger and began carefully cutting into the woven cloth. Once he'd tossed the fragment aside, he shined the lantern on the large octagonal bronze plaque, surrounded by stone, that had been laid into the floor. The bumpy pattern was actually raised lettering which read:
Here lies Jonathan Locksley, loving Husband and devoted Father.
He was taken from his Wife, Son, and All the World before his time.
May he be made Welcome by the Spirits.
"Father." He whispered, the word barely audible. He half-collapsed and half-sat staring wide-eyed at the monument; a million thoughts and questions cascading through his mind. Unable to stop himself he burst into tears, bitterly remembering his farewell to his King and Half-Brother in a "potter's field" so many months ago.
"Oh, Father!" He cried, "I have so many questions to ask you! So much that isn't in the record that Dr. Ages kept on our family!"
But only the echo of his words answered him as the flickering lantern threw quivering shadows onto the forbidding gray walls.
Justin sadly bowed his head in acceptance. What he was looking for, his past, was gone. And Justin would never be able to bring it back no matter what kind of effort he expended or how long this journey lasted. All of his questions would probably remain unanswered. He remembered what Ages had said about personal resources and how they were sometimes damaged or destroyed by a mere caprice.
"I don't know anymore if I have the strength to face the future." He said aloud. "Marian and her children need someone to protect them from Jenner, but am I up to the task? If I couldn't protect King Nicodemus and my own half-brother, how can I trust myself to keep them from harm?" He sighed and shrugged in resignation. "Dr. Ages would no doubt tell me that there's always hope so long as I keep fighting and don't give up. But what am I fighting for? On the other paw, if I'm not fighting FOR something, what am I fighting against?" Justin shook his head in frustration. "I just don't KNOW anymore!"
Other than the low moan of the wind outside, no sound gave answer to his self-doubt.
With another sigh, Justin got up and replaced the rug scrap over the plaque. He then made his way by the pale yellow light of the lantern up the Grand Staircase to the room where he'd left his pack. He unhitched his bedroll and laid it out on the floor, acutely aware of just how much he missed the warmth of Marian's fur next to his own on a cold, lonely night such as this. Even now the nights were getting longer as the last days of Summer were making way for the growing harshness of Autumn. Justin shivered, as much from the thought of the coming hard days as the cool of this night, extinguished the tiny flame of the lantern and crawled in; falling into an uneasy sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow-flap.
The dark figure stealthily approached the manor-house as soon as he saw the light in the upper window go black. Other than the windblown leaves and the occasional birdcall, the moonless night was ominously silent. The figure slowly and carefully made its way toward the house using whatever cover was available. In a few minutes, it was climbing over the rubble-pile that marked the hole in the side of the structure.
Justin sat bolt-upright in his bedroll. Something was WRONG! The fur of his back was standing on end and all of his warrior instincts were telling him that he was in danger. He sniffed at the night air, but all that he could smell was the pervasive odor of the mold that covered virtually every interior surface of the building.
As quickly and silently as possible, he slid out of the bedroll and drew his sword. He then crept on tip-toe out of the room and down the hall. Unable to see more than a few arms lengths, he kept his ears open for any foreign sounds.
The dark figure held the quarterstaff ready. It slowly approached the door, but backed away when it saw a pair of legs belonging to some intruder taking one step at a time down the large once-ornate staircase. The figure took an ambush position to one side of the door way and gave the floor a light tap with one end of the 'staff.
Justin pricked his ears up in alarm. Someone, or something, WAS in the house! In the next ROOM in fact! Instinctively, his ears lay back on his head and he could feel his heartbeat increasing as if it would leap out of his ribcage at any moment. He took a close-quarters fighting stance that he knew was best suited to the room that he was about to enter and proceeded to investigate. Slowly, step-by-wary-step, he neared the doorway. He could now hear breathing; but whether it was the intruders or his own, he couldn't really be sure. After what seemed an eternity, he stepped through the door and into the room. Out of the corner of one eye, he saw a sudden movement from a vast, dark shadow. Almost too late, his reflexes brought his sword up in front of him. The blow of whatever had hit him had been stopped, but the actual impact sent him flying back through the door and he landed on his back; stunned; on the damp rug.
As the multi-colored burst of light that filled his vision after the back of his head hit the floor cleared, he saw a giant hooded and cloaked figure approaching and raising some sort of spear or staff to bring it down on him.
Luckily, he'd managed to retain a tight grip on his sword. The figure swung its weapon down on Justin, who brought up the sword and blocked the blow but shuddered under its unnatural force. Again the apparition raised it to strike, but Justin had now regained his senses and rolled to a safe distance away from his assailant and rose to his feet; quaking in both fear and anger. "Who are you?" He demanded. "Why do you attack me?"
The attacker expertly twirled his staff to a ready-defensive position and slid the hood off. "I'm Brutus, Sheriff of Nottinghamshire." His opponent's voice boomed in the darkness. "You're trespassing on property owned by the Crown."
Brutus? Justin's jaw dropped. He'd known a bear named Brutus in his childhood. While they had not been best friends, they'd played and worked together over many seasons. He dropped his sword to the floor and said, "Brutus, it's me! Justin! I used to live with the Frasiers. Remember?"
Brutus thought back to his childhood. He'd been so depressed lately that he'd been seeking solace in both Ale and nostalgia to relieve himself of the burden of the guilt that he'd been carrying since helping Jenner to power. Yes, he dimly remembered a family of foxes named Frasier who'd lived a short ways down the road. But it'd been a very large one and he'd always had trouble remembering the names of all those brothers and sisters and cousins. "You're gonna have to do better than that!" He called out. "I knew plenty of Frasiers when I was a cub! You couldn't walk the fields without stepping on one 'r another of 'em."
Justin laughed and let himself relax. "Yep, that was us!" He said. "Your father, his name's Benjamin, right? He was always complaining about how we were going to overrun the Shire one day, but he was never happier than when Papa would 'volunteer' some of us to help him when he was late bringing in the Harvest."
Brutus was flabbergasted by this remark. Indeed, his late father HAD often made such a comment; though only in jest. Brutus shook his head in disbelief as more memories began tosurface. He now recalled that there HAD been a kit named Justin living with the Frasiers, an orphan or something, but he'd run away years ago for some reason. "If you're who you say you are, why'd you leave? The Justin I knew ran away from home years ago an' never returned!" Brutus recalled bitterly.
Justin walked to the staircase and sat down heavily on the lowest stoop. "I never ran away." He said despondently. "Papa sent me to join the King's Guard because he wanted me to be more than a simple farmer all my life. But I never got a chance to say good-bye to any of my friends. Maybe that's why you think I ran away."
Brutus regarded the dark shape that sat at the bottom of the stairs quizzically. The tone of Justin's voice, if indeed this WAS the same Justin that he had known those many years ago, betrayed no hint of any attempt at deception. After a few moments hesitation, he decided to take the chance that this trespasser was telling the truth. He relaxed his guard and joined his former adversary, taking a seat next to him. "So why are you here?" Brutus asked. "The Frasier place is a good two days South of here."
Justin recounted as briefly as possible the events of the past several months and explained the events that had caused him to end up being adopted, showing Brutus the locket, jewel box and letter by the dim yellow flame of his lantern. He also showed Brutus the bronze monument embedded in the floor.
Brutus, while somewhat skeptical about certain details of the fox's story, nodded his agreement to its overall factuality. He bitterly confessed to Justin his own role in bringing Jenner to power and the betrayal and injustice that he felt he'd done to his constituents, explaining to him about Jenner's Land Repossession Decree.
"Incredible!" Justin exclaimed in disbelief. "I knew his greed was boundless, but this puts him around the bend! Doesn't he realize that something like this could cause a civil war?"
"Probably." Brutus said disconsolately, "But I get the distinct feeling that he doesn't really give a tinker's damn. He an' his rich friends are on a power trip an' they expect his poorer subjects to pull the cart."
Just then, Justin had a disturbing thought. "Linney and Galen!" He blurted out.
"Who?" Brutus asked, perplexed by this sudden turn in the conversation.
"My oldest sister and her husband!" Justin exclaimed.
Brutus thought back. "Isn't she blind or something?" He asked, trying to sort out his memories of the Frasier family.
"Yes, she's blind, but that's not my point!" Justin cried, frustrated at Brutus's interruptions. "The plot of land that they farm is their only source of food; not to mention about a dozen other families! Without it, they'll have nothing to eat this winter!"
"Wait! Wait!" Brutus interjected. "The decree says nothing about taking the food itself! Only the land!"
"Think about it!" Justin said, a frightened urgency in his voice. "Jenner doesn't want JUST the land! He also wants to be able to control the supply of the food that's grown FROM that land! Otherwise he has no control over his Kingdom!"
Brutus arched his brow in skepticism. "You think that he would actually use food as a weapon against his own subjects?" He asked, wondering if the fox had taken leave of his senses.
"No." Justin said confidently. "I believe that he will use CONTROL of food as his weapon. Remember, not many animals know how to live off the land anymore. We've grown too dependent on our grown crops. By taking control of the food supply this close to the Harvest, Jenner intends to prove to those of us who continue to refuse to bend to his will just how far he's willing to go to maintain his rule."
Brutus, now deep in thought, rubbed at the fur on the underside of his chin. What Justin was proposing was incredible! Yet when looked at in the context of the events since King Nicodemus's death, a chain of evidence; which he as a law-enforcment officer was trained to recognize; began to fall all-too-clearly into place. But as a law-enforcment official he was also, by nature, distrustful of all but the most solid physical proof. He decided that he needed more and thought he knew exactly how to get it. "Look," He said, "Your story, unbelievable as it sounds, has a ring of truth to it so I'm not going to dismiss it out of hand." Justin made as if to speak, but the bear held up one of his huge paws. "I know what you're going to say! You wouldn't be here if it weren't. And believe me, my gut tells me that you are who you say you are! But my gut also told me that Jenner would make a good King and look how THAT turned out! I know a few friends in high places who should be able to verify enough of your story to determine whether you're on the up-and-up. Meanwhile, I'll inform my Deputies that you're just a harmless tramp who's down on his luck and that I've taken pity on you and am allowing you to stay here for as long as you need to.
Justin chuckled. "Imagine that! A tramp in my own home!" He said ruefully.
The bear smiled and said mock-indignantly, "May I remind you, Sir, that this whole Estate is still technically owned by the Royal Trust; I'd hate to imagine what kind of interest you're gonna have to pay in order to get it back!"
Justin laughed fora few moments but then became serious once more. "Look," He said to the Sheriff. "I need to go visit Linney and Galen and see what kind of help, if any, I can offer them."
"No problem." The bear replied. "I'd like to tag along with you and renew our acquaintance if it's alright with you."
Justin shrugged. "Sure, I could use the company." He said. "Let me get my things together. It'll only take a few minutes."
Brutus nodded and waited as Justin recovered his sword and hurried upstairs to the room that he'd appropriated.
As the first light of the sun began to penetrate through the mist of the cold late-Summer morning, Justin and Brutus expertly navigated their way through the still-dark forest.
"So how did you know that I was at my father's Estate?" Justin inquired.
"I'm the Sheriff. It's my job to know what's goin' on in my baliwick. When several peasants began telling the local constables and several of my Deputies that a stranger dressed in a military uniform and carryin' a sword was askin' directions to a place that hadn't been inhabited in twenty-some years, well, that sort of caught my attention an' I figured that I'd better investigate. Glad I did too. You never know what sort of ruffian you'll run into in these here parts." Brutus replied only half-jokingly.
Justin nodded his agreement. "Yeah. Almost as bad as the ruffians you're bound to run into at the Royal Palace these days." He said sarcastically.
Brutus winced at the implication of Justin's observation. "Touch`e." Brutus muttered.
They hiked at a fast clip for most of the rest of the morning, stopping only once to rest and have a portion of the rations that Justin had packed for the trip.
Just after Noon, they came to Linney and Galen's cottage. A group of several dozen animals was gathered in the Heath and around the outdoor firepit with its cookstand; a column of smoke and the smell of cabbage-pepper soup telling them that an important event was in session. Even from a fair distance they could hear the sound of voices raised in anger and debate. They both double-timed their steps to hurry themselves toward the commotion.
"Linney!" Justin called out, hastening through the gathering crowd toward the firepit. "Linney,I'm back!"
Linnette ceased stirring the soup and handed her ladle to one of the other wives, grabbed her walking-stick; a thin but strong willow switch; and tapped her way over to where she heard her brother's voice. "Oh Justin! I'm SO glad you're back!" She cried as she embraced him, a tear of joy soaking into the fur of her cheek. She gently began to caress his face and asked, "Did you find what you were searching for?"
"Yes and no." He answered cryptically. "I'll tell you later. What's going on here?" He asked, the puzzlement plain in his voice.
Linnette began quaking in anger and frustration. "Our so-called "Majesty" has decided that the people of Britain aren't worthy of the land on which they walk..."
"The Repossession Act." Justin stated bitterly.
"When did you...?" Linnette began.
"Last night. Brutus, the Sheriff of Nottingham, told me all about it." He gently took her arm and began leading her to a knot of farmers were arguing with the Sheriff and among themselves. "He says that he'd like to meet you again."
One of her eyebrows arched questioningly. "Again?" She asked. "I can't remember ever meeting him a first time." She said.
Without further word, Justin silenced the farmers debate and introduced his sister to the Sheriff, treating her with a genuine respect that would have pleased any Lady-of-the-Court.
Brutus bowed, gently took her paw and kissed it and said, "My apologies to the Lady of this house for the conduct of His Majesty and the decree that makes this gathering necessary. Jenner has become a spoiled brat and a menace to all Britain and one day I shall see to it that he is shown the error of his ways."
Linnette thanked Brutus and the crowd broke into applause.
The farmers then resumed their debate and one of them made his way from a path leading into the forest through the crowd to Justin, Brutus and Linnette. He was a strong and handsome fox, gray at the muzzle, and was dressed in old, but clean, work-clothes and a well-worn felt hat. "Linney, what's going on?" He asked, his voice a gentle baritone. "I heard cheering. Did someone recind that awful Repossession Decree?"
"No such luck, Honey." She said. "But I think you remember my adopted brother, Justin. He was at our wedding."
The older fox shook Justin's paw. "Linney told me about your troubles with Jenner and your search for your family. I sincerely hope that everything turns out for the best."
Justin thanked him.
She then introduced her husband to the Sheriff.
"Galen Talbot." The fox said, doffing his hat and firmly gripping the bear's powerful, massive paw. "It would honor us if you would stay for our meeting, Sir. We need as many calm and wise heads as we can find in a moment of crisis such as we find ourselves in today."
The Sheriff smiled at the fox's optimism even in the face of such bad news. "I'll be happy to stay and help in any way I can within the limits of my office." He stated.
"Excellent! Although I have the feeling that this situation may be a test of those limits." Galen replied. The fox then raised his arms and called on everyone to gather around the firepit.
Once the various farmers and their wives and children had found places to settle themselves for the meeting and several of the wives began serving the cabbage-pepper soup, Galen called the meeting to order. "My friends," He began. "Only days ago His Majesty, King Jenner..." The congregation began to jeer noisily at the mention of the King. Galen once again raised his arms and called for silence, looking to the Sheriff with an embarrassed expression in his eyes. The Sheriff sat silently and nodded his encouragement to continue. After the crowd quieted down he resumed. "King Jenner issued a decree calling for the transfer of almost all privately deeded lands to the Crown. Why he's done this? I don't know. Although I'm sure that everybody has their suspicions. But for the moment we have no real proof to confirm or contradict our suspicions. Thus it is my belief that we need to discuss how we can best resolve this situation, which is why I've called this little gathering of the various local landholders."
"I'll tell ya one 'option' we 'ave!" A voice cried angrily. "We can 'ang tha' idjit fr'm th' 'ighest TREE! Tha's wha' we c'n do!"
Several in the crowd, mostly the older children, let out a cheer; but their parents angrily hushed them and the rest remained silent.
"Please, please!" Galen said, the distress plain in his voice. "I know how angry we all are! I stand to lose my home and garden plot too! But just being mad and making threats won't make the situation any better! We have to make some sort of plan in order to get through the Harvest season because, like it or not, the days are getting shorter and colder and Winter is just around the corner!"
"Well wha' d'yer suggest, Talbot? I don' 'ear you comin' up wi' any bri' idears." The owner of the voice stood. He was a grizzled old otter dressed in ragged overalls and an equally ragged peacoat and a battered sea hat. He'd originally been a sailor and had even lost an eye during a shipwreck. Somehow, after his retirement, he had ended up on one of the surrounding farms. Although his real name was Jonah, he went by the nickname "Blinkey".
Galen shrugged. He knew that the other animals in the area often looked to him for advice and guidance because of his experience as a Colonel in His Majesty's Army. "I don't know what to tell you, Blinkey." He said. "I served King Nicodemus proudly for many years and could no more think of committing Treason against the Crown than any of you. But this decree threatens us all. Somehow we have to let Jenner know that he's overstepped his authority."
"Y-Yes, bu-bu-but how?" A field mouse squeaked fearfully. "One of m-my cousins who lives in The City says th-that Jenner's b-been throwing smaller animals into the p-prisons to fatten them up s-so he can eat them!"
The crowd reacted with a buzz of uncertainty and Galen once again raised his arms to quiet them. "I don't know which of your cousins is feeding you such nonsense, Mortimer," He said angrily, "But even Jenner wouldn't stoop to something as vile as flesh-eating!" He then began to pace along a well-worn path. "Look, this is a very serious situation! We can't allow ourselves tobe misled or frightened by every little rumor that we hear! We need FACTS!" He then walked over to the fallen, moss-covered log where Brutus and Justin sat. "Sheriff, you get news from His Majesty's courier every day. What've you heard?"
Brutus stood and gave a lopsided smile. "Well, first of all, I think that I can reasonably assure everyone that Jenner, whatever you may think of him at the moment, eats the same food as the rest of us." Most of the crowd gave a collective chuckle. "But Farmer Talbot is correct; facts are a far better indicator of any situation than rumor. And, unfortunately, the facts are that King Jenner seems to have forgotten his obligations to both Britain and his subjects in favor of a few rich friends. I would be lying if I didn't tell you that I, myself, had helped him to get where he is today..."
The crowd gasped in surprise, but Brutus continued.
"...But I've come to realize that this was a huge mistake on my part and I'm willing to either use my Office to try to get him to reconsider his position on the decree or, barring that, resign my position as Sheriff of this Shire."
Again the congregation was in an uproar. Several began to jeer the Sheriff, accusing him of attending the meeting so that he could report them to Jenner.
Justin stood and unsheathed his sword, placing the tip of the blade into the soft dirt of the Heath and stood impassively until the crowd fell quiet. After a few tense moments of silence he said, with barely controlled anger. "It seems to me that you folk have more important problems than deciding who's to blame for Jenner being on the Throne! The Sheriff has told you of his role in helping Jenner to the Throne and he has apologized for doing so and he has indicated his willingness to sacrifice his own livelihood for you!"
"An' who're you t' be talkin', Mister?" The otter demanded. "What, 'sides fr'm tha' thar steel toothpick, gives you th' right t' be havin' any say here?"
Justin stalked out to the middle of the clearing. "I'll tell you what gives me the right!" He said. "I grew up in this Shire believing that I had no parents other than the ones who adopted me. I didn't even know my last name! A few weeks ago I found out that my real parents were Jonathan and Emma Locksley and that they owned most of the land in the Shire, possibly including land that some of you may be farming at this very moment! I don't happen to care if ALL of my father's lands are gone except the manor-house and its immediate Estate! But the thought that Jenner might someday turn my father's lands and all of Britain into a slave-camp to enrich himself and his friends at the expense of my sister," He pointed to Linnette, "Or my brother-in-law," He then pointed at Galen, "Or any of you or your children!" He swept his paw around to indicate the gathered circle, "Such a thought makes me sick to the very pit of my stomach!" Justin then walked to the Sheriff and pointed at him. "Brutus has told you that he will give up his job in order to help the residents of this Shire." Justin then walked back out to the middle of the clearing and knelt down and placed the tip of the sword back into the damp ground. "But on my Honor as a soldier I hereby swear to defend the animals of Britain and, if necessary, GIVE MY LIFE to remove Jenner from the Throne and restore the Crown to a ruler as wise as Nicodemus was!" He then stared hard into the eyes of the multitude that was gathered around him. "Who among you will take this vow with me for your own and your children's sake?" He asked.
"I will, little brother!" Linnette cried, almost jumping from the rock on which she had been sitting; and she began tapping her way toward him.
Galen walked to his wife's side and, gently taking her by the paw, began guiding her to where Justin was kneeling. "I'll accept that vow as well." He announced. "From this day forward, I'll treat my wife's brother as my own flesh-and-blood." Linnette, crying tears of joy, gave her husband a loving hug. They then knelt beside Justin.
Brutus also stood and said, "I helped to bring this misfortune upon you good folk and I'm willing to bear the burden of correcting my mistake. I too will give my life for Britain and our future!" He also went to the middle of the clearing and knelt at Justin's other side.
Individually and in family groups, the gathered animals took up Justin's vow and knelt, surrounding him in a vast circle. Even Blinkey, after some hemming and hawing, took it; grumbling about how this was no way to spend a retirement.
Afterward, the animals again took their seats around the Heath. "I s'pose y' have a plan t' help us now tha' we've committed ourselves t' treason agin' th' King!" Blinkey said dourly.
"Actually I do have one." Stated Justin, who had stood and resheathed his sword. He then walked to Brutus and placed his paw on the bear's huge shoulder. "But I'm afraid you're not going to like it very much, my friend."
Brutus smiled and shrugged. "Hey, I just took an oath against my own Boss! Any request that you make of me can't possibly be any worse of a hardship on me than that!" He said.
Justin nodded. "Alright," He said, "The Plan is this: We are going to create an Army of our own to defy Jenner and his friends and restore some sanity to our lives!"
The crowd gasped and Blinkey stood. "Are y' DAFT, Boy?" He asked angrily, his voice a whip of sarcasm. "How d'ya expect t' create 'n army out 'f a few Farm-folk? Jenner's got a trained Army 'f 'is own tha' c'n turn us int' so much chum if'n he wanted ta!"
"And do you know how he got that Army?" Justin countered. "He recruits it from British families like yours! He takes fathers and brothers and sons from their farms or shops and trains them to do his bidding; whether that's defending our beloved Country from outside invaders or taking your livelihood and lands and using it to satisfy his own lust for power and riches!" Justin then began pacing the inner edge of the clearing, as if trying to address each of the gathered animals individually. "If we are to meet Jenner in battle, and I can pretty much guarantee that that's the ONLY way that we'll get him off of the Throne, then we'll have to do some recruiting of our own! We'll have to start spreading the word to all of Britain that there's a group of animals in Nottinghamshire who've decided that they will DIE fighting for their freedom rather than be condemned to live as slaves in their own land!"
"But who's gonna train us?" A squirrel in the audience asked. "An' where're we gonna get weapons? All we have're farm tools!"
Justin walked over to his brother-in-law. "Galen?" He asked, "Do you think you're up to the task of helping me to raise a citizen Army?"
Galen beamed proudly. "Just give the word, brother!" He said happily.
Justin laid a paw on Galen's shoulder and smiled. "The word is given, brother." He stated.
Justin then walked back to Brutus. "I'll need to use my father's Estate as my headquarters if this little rebellion is going to have any chance of success..."
"Say no more." The bear interjected. "I'll see what I can do to give you enough time to get yourself established."
"Thank you." Justin said.
He then went back to the center of the circle. "My father's manor-house will be my headquarters from now on." He stated. "Any family who feels that they cannot safely remain on their own lands after they've harvested their crop is invited to move into it for the Winter so long as they're willing to share in its repair and upkeep."
Justin then motioned Galen to come to him. As Galen did so, Justin announced, "My sister and brother-in-law are in charge of my father's Estate until I can take care of some unfinished business. I should be back in about a week or so. If they tell you to do anything in connection with the vow that you took today, assume that I'm telling you to do it too."
Justin then took Galen aside. "Galen," He said, "I want you and Linney to move out of this house," He pointed to the cottage. "And into the manor-house as soon as you can."
A look of concern crossed Galen's face. "But why?" He asked. "This is our home."
Justin nodded sadly. "I know! I know! But believe me when I say that I don't give this order lightly! As soon as Jenner hears that we're standing up to him, he's going to start pushing us to see just how serious we are! And we've got to be able to push back without my having to worry all the time whether my family is safe or not!" He exclaimed.
"But we live in such an isolated part of the forest..." Galen tried to argue.
"All the more reason to get you and Linney out of here!" Justin said flatly. "Jenner's already killed his own brother and my half-brother! And he tried to kill Jonathan's widow and four children as well as two other innocent animals. Do you really think he'd hesitate to add a retired soldier and his blind wife to that kind of tally?"
An expression of terror crossed Galen's face as he imagined his wife alone as a Troop of soldiers rode into the little Heath with Jenner at its head. Galen sighed. "I guess you're right, brother." He said reluctantly. "Let me go break the news to her."
Justin nodded again. "You don't have to start right this second, but please don't take more than a couple of weeks at most." He instructed. Galen nodded and rushed off to tell his wife the bad news.
Justin trudged wearily to the log where Brutus was sitting and began to put on his backpack.
"I hope you know what you've started." Brutus said.
"I know what I've started!" Justin said sharply, anger dripping from his words. "It's something I should've started months ago! If I'd had the guts to kill Jenner when I discovered that he found out that Jonathan, Dr. Ages and I were the ones who were keeping him from power; then maybe, just maybe, King Nicodemus and Jonathan would still be alive!" He then sat on the log and wiped a tear from the corner of one eye with the back of a paw. "The cruelest irony in all of this," He continued sadly, "Is that some of these innocent folk, most of whom just want to make a decent living for themselves and their families, probably WILL end up dying! And not through any fault of their own! That thought alone makes me want to kill Jenner all the more!"
Brutus frowned, worried about Justin's sudden change of mood from spellbinding leadership to self-pity. "I didn't mean to imply that their situation is somehow your fault." He said. "If anything, I bear a good part of the responsibility for putting Jenner on the Throne by letting my own selfishness and greed for a piece of his action override my sense of duty to my constituents!"
"You had no way of knowing what Jenner was up to!" Justin cried, burying his head in his paws. "I'd suspected for years that he might try to kill King Nicodemus! But there was always some small part of me, some awful little voice, that always DENIED that one animal could do such a thing to another! And by the time I was smart enough to stop listening to that voice, my half-brother and my King; the two friends I'd sworn to give MY VERY OWN LIFE to protect; were dead under several tons of stone and Evil itself was wearing the Crown of Britain!"
Brutus decided that he'd heard enough. He reached down and grabbed Justin by the scruff of his collar and stood him up. "On your feet, Soldier!" He barked. Several heads turned but Brutus ignored the gawkers. "What the hell is your problem, boy? Of course some of these animals are probably gonna die! You've just declared war on their King! And war usually means a lotta death an' destruction!"
Justin tried to fight his way loose, but Brutus's grip was vise-tight. "HAVE YOU EVER SEEN SOMEONE DIE?" Justin screamed. "Someone you loved like a brother! Someone who WAS your brother!" He whimpered. He then began to collapse in a faint and Galen, who had heard the commotion and had come running to find out what was happening, quickly supported him under one arm to keep him from falling.
Galen, with Brutus's assistance, slowly walked his weeping brother-in-law into the house and, after removing his sword-belt and hanging it over a chair, laid Justin in his bed and placed the covers over him.
Justin grabbed Galen feebly by his arm. "Brother." Justin rasped.
"I'm here, brother." Galen answered.
"Have I done the right thing?" Justin asked, his eyes beginning to glaze over with exhaustion.
Galen gently took Justin's paw. "These folk need their freedom back and they need a Leader who can motivate them to fight for it. That you recognize this and are willing to bear the responsibility shows everybody that you care for them. Yes, I'd say you've done the right thing."
Justin smiled weakly and closed his eyes. Galen laid Justin's paw on top of the blanket and he and Brutus quietly left the room, closing the door after them.
Linnette was waiting for them in the main room, her face drawn with worry. "What happened? Is Justin alright?" She asked.
"He's asleep." Galen said. "I think that the tension of the past several months has finally taken its toll on him."
"What was the yelling about?" She asked. "I only heard a few snatches of what was said."
"He feels guilty that some of us will die when Jenner comes to put down our little rebellion." Brutus said.
Galen nodded his agreement. "The responsibilities of Leadership aren't for the faint of heart." He said. "I led a Brigade of some five thousand well-trained and well-disciplined soldiers for almost ten years. Putting that many lives in one paw is, to say the least, a daunting prospect." Galen then made his way to his favorite chair and motioned Brutus to take a seat on the couch. "Certainly in the beginning I enjoyed the power that I had over so many lives. But soon I found myself responsible for making sure that the soldiers with families kept those families clothed and fed and didn't drink their last pence away. I was responsible whenever one of my soldiers got into a fight or broke the law in some other way; and, mind you, military law is by necessity a good deal harsher than civil statutes; so I sometimes had to impose punishments that would have been considered most unfair by your standards, but were well in line with the regulations that I, as an Officer in His Majesty's Army, was required to follow.
"Justin, on the other paw, will be at a distinct disadvantage because he won't have had a basic training course to weed out those unfit or unqualified for service. We'll basically be starting this Army pretty much from scratch and you can bet your bottom crown that none of these farmers has ever had to endure the kind of punishing discipline that will be necessary to turn them into anything near an effective fighting force.
"Also, these farmers all have families to feed and crops to harvest even while they're beginning their training, so he'll have to somehow adjust any training schedule to take that into account. And once the crops ARE harvested, training is going to have to continue through Winter no matter how bad the weather might become because, sure as Spring rain, Jenner's gonna attack as soon as the weather gives him the opportunity."
Galen ran a paw through the fur at the top of his head. "And that doesn't even begin to cover things like how we're going to acquire and distribute decent weapons, plan perimeter patrols and all the other arcana of life within a military camp. We'll also have to figure out how to deal with taking care of those families who, like us, decide to move to the Locksley Estate."
"Leave that to me and the rest of the wives." Linnette said, her thoughts turning to practical solutions to these problems. "I expect that between us we ought to be able to figure something out."
"Excellent!" Galen said. "Sheriff, how many of your Deputies do you think will go along with us and how many will go to Jenner?"
Brutus shrugged. "I'm not sure." He mused. "They take their oath of Deputization pretty seriously, but that oath is to the spirit of the Law rather than the person of the King. I think it'd be best if I just explained my reasons for joining you and let them make their own decision."
Galen nodded. "I suppose you're right. 'Flies to honey' would seem to be the appropriate method to deal with this situation." He said.
While Galen went to collect wood for the nights fire, Linnette made her way to the bedroom and sat near the foot of the bed in which Justin slept. She listened to his deep, steady breathing and wondered what kind of dreams he was having.
Jenner scanned through the papers that the Scribe had just given him. "Very good, very good." He muttered, riffling through the pages. "Seventeen hundred bushels of turnips from Sussexshire? That's more than any other two Shires combined." He commented with obvious delight. A moment later, one of the reports caught his eye. "What's this?" He asked, shoving the paper down in front of the hedgehog who was waddling to keep in step with his King.
The hedgehog grabbed at the paper and fumbled with it for a moment. Jenner put on an air of irritated disdain. But secretly, the fat little creature amused him to no end with his unintentional antics. "Just a moment! Just a moment!" The hedgehog squeaked. "Uh...Ah, yes! It says: 'Nottinghamshire, no report', your Majesty."
Jenner snatched the paper from the hedgehog's paws. "I know WHAT it says you spineless dolt!" Jenner said sternly. "What I want to know is WHY it says that!"
The hedgehog cowered in fear, his quills rattling as he shook. "I, uh, I'm not sure, your Majesty! The courier reported that the Sheriff has been away for the past couple of days and left no orders for his Deputy-in-Charge!" He blurted.
Jenner frowned and stopped, the platoon of guards that surrounded him doing the same. "Odd." He said. "I wonder if it has anything to do with that letter he sent me a few days ago."
The hedgehog was about to answer, but a warning glance from the Troop-Captain made him think better of his words and he remained silent. The letter from the Sheriff had sent Jenner into a rage the likes of which had never been seen before. For over an hour, the King had raged through the castle breaking any object and tearing down any tapestry which even remotely reminded him of his adopted brother's rule. His temper had then cooled enough that he'd gone to his quarters, threatening a horrible death to anyone who disturbed him for any reason. The next day he had ordered that all objects bearing the crest of the House PenWallace, Nicodemus's family, be either destroyed or have the crest removed and replaced with that of the House Argellaeus, the family of which Jenner had been the only survivor.
Jenner shrugged. "I'll give the good Sheriff a few more days. Perhaps he's just busy supervising his charges and motivating them to work harder for the Glory of their King." He said distantly. He then shoved the sheaf of papers at the hedgehog and dropped them before the nervous creature had the chance to get a paw under them, the growing early Autumn wind scattering them in the Castle courtyard.
The hedgehog darted after the reports as quickly as his short legs would carry him. The Troop-captain stayed behind and helped him. "He's gone mad!" The Hedgehog said dispairingly when he was sure that no one was around to overhear them.
"That may be, Iggy." Giles Gisbourne said quietly. "But he's still your King and I think that you would be wise to remember that fact." Gisbourne handed the hedgehog the papers that he'd collected.
Iggy narrowed his already tiny black eyes and adjusted the wire-rimmed spectacles that were perched on his snout. "Do you want to be ruled by a nutcase for the rest of your life?" He asked accusingly. "I have a wife and kids! I want my children to have a future other than being subject to the whims of that looney for the rest of their lives!"
Giles thoughtfully stroked the fur of his chin. As a soldier he was trained to obey the orders given to him by a lawful authority, whether it be Captain Sullivan or King Jenner himself. Butas a son, his own father was suffering under the rule of the very personage that he was sworn to protect. "Listen. I can imagine how you must feel. Do you think that you and your family are the only ones affected by Jenner's decrees?" He asked.
Iggy bowed his head and closed his eyes, a tear falling from the corner of one eye. "No." He whimpered in his small voice.
Giles knelt and gently and carefully laid a paw on the hedgehog's spiney shoulder. "My own father is in the same situation that you seem to be facing. Let me talk to him and see if I can get you two together to talk things out. Okay?"
Iggy nodded sadly and began shuffling toward the entrance to the castle.
Giles watched sympathetically as the scribe disappeared into the castle. Ignatz wasn't a bad sort, Gisbourne knew, but Jenner's erratic behavior over the past several weeks was causing many of the household staff to fear not only for their jobs, but their very lives and those of their families. Most had left, deciding to take lower paying jobs outside the castle walls. But Iggy's wife had just given birth to another child and; other than a few secretarial or transcriptional occupations, none of which paid as much in the private sector as they did in the bureaucracy; he'd had little choice except to stay and accept whatever abuse Jenner meted out to him as the designated bearer of bad news. But Giles was also worried. If even a timid soul like Iggy was desperate enough to voice his concerns about the state of the Royal mind, what must the rest of Britain be thinking?
Lady Euphigenia Kluck shivered in the isolation of her tiny room, not so much from the cold early-Autumn wind that penetrated through the cracks in the window that looked out onto the road, and beyond it the vast darkness of the forest; for she was well insulated by her travelling clothes and feathers; but because the news that she had been hearing during her journey was so bleak.
After selling her mother's house and possessions and distributing the money as evenly as possible among her various siblings and relatives, she had also sold many of her own possessions as well; keeping only a few travelling clothes; and left for Britain.
As word of the Land Repossession Decree had spread, small pockets of violent rebellion had flared throughout the countryside. While there had been reports of numerous injuries, so far; thank the spirits; there seemed to have been no fatalities.
But along with this chaos came those who were well-prepared to take advantage of it. In the past couple of days during her travels, Kluck had been warned by other travellers that robbers pretty much owned the roads after the sun went down and that the only shelter; however illusory it might actually be; was to be found at the roadside inns. When she had asked why the Sheriff's and their Deputies weren't keeping the ways safe, one traveller had sarcastically explained to her that the Sheriff's were either too busy trying to implement the Repossession Decree and putting down the resultant uprisings or, if they had a bit of time to spare from doing that, were themselves demanding a gratuity to assign a Deputy to escort the traveller through their Shires.
Lady Kluck shook her head glumly as another wave of wind tore at the dying leaves of the surrounding trees and rattled the panes of the window. Of Marian and her children there had been no word even after sending inquiries to many of the former Ladies-of-the-Court. They had either gone home or been forced to take employment as governesses, House-matrons or other servant-occupations; at least three going to the Continent to do so, their replys conveying a hopelessness that conditions in Britain would probably remain intolerable until King Jenner no longer wore the Crown.
She had found this inn just as darkness had descended on the forest. But the innkeeper, a ferret, had been none-too-enthusiastic about renting her even this tiny room and had made it plain that he would light no fire nor serve any food if the King was going to take his livelihood from him. "Let his Piggishness cut my wood an' cook my meals if he's gonna own my business!" He had growled before stomping away from his desk.
Kluck was about to undress for bed when she heard a commotion from downstairs. Quietly she opened her door and stepped out onto the catwalk that gave access to the upstairs rooms.
"Please, sir! Me friends an' I'll do anythin' tha' ye wish! I'm a fair cook an' Will an' Mr. Stabb can chop ye a night's worth o' firewood!" A lilting Irish voice implored.
"No deal!" The innkeeper barked. "I'm not runnin' a charity here! If'n y' can't pay, y' gets no room! N' hit th' road 'for I calls th' Sher'ff!"
The trio of bedraggled animals gave a collective shrug and started for the door.
Kluck took pity on them immediately. "Wait!" She said, gathering the pleats of her cloak and starting down the stairs. "I'll pay fer their nights stay!" She stated in her heavy Scottish brogue.
"Thank you, Ma'am." The sad-faced weasel said. "We wouldn't want to trouble you, but we'd be much obliged."
"T'would be nay trouble." Kluck said. "A fire an' a meal'd do me a world o' wonder aboot noo." She indicated her ample girth.
The inkeeper fumed. "Waitaminnit! Hold it! You got no call &tellin;' me how I'll run my place, you ol' biddy!" He yelled.
"'Ey! Tha's no way t' talk t' someone 'oos jus' tryin' t' 'elp!" Said the young gray fox.
The innkeeper pointed a clawed finger at the fox. "Was I talkin' t' you, boy?" He sneered.
The fox cocked his head questioningly to one side. "No, bu..." He started.
"Then shut y'r trap!" The ferret snapped. "An' you!" He pointed to Kluck. "Get y'r things an' get outta my inn!"
"Now YOU wait a minute!" The weasel said sternly. "There's no call to throw this lady out of her room! She was just tryin' to do us a favor!"
The innkeeper brought an old rusty sword from under the desk. "I'll throw out whoever the hell I PLEASE!" He yelled, his eyes burning like embers in a fire.
The fox's eyes widened and his jaw dropped and he quickly grabbed the arm of the skunk and dragged her across the room and up the stairs to join Kluck.
The weasel, meanwhile, had just narrowly dodged two savage slashes by the enraged ferret, who was starting to bring the blade down for a third time when the weasel grabbed the ferret's wrist and, with a half-turn of his own arm, slammed it on the edge of the desk; causing the sword to drop with a harmless clatter to the floor and eliciting an audible crack from the ferret's forearm.
The innkeeper dropped to the floor next to his sword, howling in pain. The weasel looked down blankly at the writhing animal at his feet; then an expression of horror spread across his face.
"I-I didn't mean to break it." He said hoarsely. "I just wanted to make him drop the sword."
Kluck and the skunk raced down the stairs. The skunk took the weasel, who was now shaking with fright, by an arm and led him to a bench and sat him down, doing her best to console him. Kluck kicked the sword aside and knelt down to examine the ferret's arm. The ferret was now whimpering like a child, tears flowing from his tightly closed eyes.
"Here, Laddie, give me yer paw." She told him. She carefully examined the quickly swelling limb but determined that any treatment was beyond her abilities. As she laid his arm gently on his chest, the door burst open and the fox; who had dashed out the door after the fracas; returned with another ferret and an old, snow-white badger, who seemed oddly familiar to her.
The badger, using a paw-made crutch, limped over and stiffly knelt down next to Kluck.
"Och! Ah think he's go' a broken wrist, sir!" Kluck said, her voice heavy with worry.
The badger carefully felt along the length of the ferret's forearm, then ordered him to bend each finger in turn. Slowly, and obviously in great pain, the ferret complied.
"Well," Said the badger, "The bad news is that the bone is broken."
The other ferret, who was questioning the weasel and the skunk, excused himself and ambled toward Kluck and the badger, bending down to pick up the sword on the way. "Well, Doctor, if that's the bad news, then I guess that this won't a terribly exciting night after all." The ferret said with a hint of sorrow. He bent down and stroked the fur behind the injured ferret's ear and shook his head. "Mom always told you that your temper would be your undoing. She said that one day you'd meet someone bigger or stronger or faster than you and they'd kick your tail."
The wounded ferret moaned softly.
The other ferret sighed. "OK, Doctor, what's the GOOD news?" He asked.
The badger, using the crutch, slowly and with difficulty stood and said. "His bone has a partial fracture just below the wrist. If I get it into a cast tonight, it should heal by sometime after the first snow."
The other ferret nodded and pointed to the young fox. "You," He said authoritatively, "Take Robert over to the constabulary," He indicated the injured ferret, who was being lifted to his feet, "And gather whatever supplies Dr. Ages," He pointed to the badger, "Needs to make a cast."
The fox nodded and helped the wounded ferret out the door with Dr. Ages shuffling close behind.
The other ferret then introduced himself as Tom Binns, the village constable. "I must apologize for my older brother's outburst." He said evenly. "He's been mad at the world ever since the King issued that idiotic decree." He said.
The weasel, who had regained his composure somewhat, nodded wearily and said. "Yeah, Jenner seems to have a gift for doin' that. I'm sorry about your brother's arm, but the soldier part o' me jus' sorta took over. I won't resist if you want to put me in jail."
Binns gave an equally weary smile. "No, you were just defending yourself from what you thought was an immediate threat to you and your friends, so punishment would serve no purpose. Robert's been a bit of a bully all 'is life. I'm hoping that from now on he'll think twice before lettin' his temper get the better of him." He said. "By the way, what brings you to this neck of Sherwood Forest? We don't usually get many travellers this time of year." He asked.
"We're lookin' for a fox, Sir, by th' name o' Justin." The skunk said.
"And your name is?" Binns asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" She could almost be seen blushing beneath her dirty, matted fur. "Me name's Heather Kilcannon. And this," She waved a paw toward the weasel, "Is Ezekiel Stabb. Th' gray fox who helped wi' your brother is Will Scarlet." She stated.
"And you, Madam?" Binns asked Kluck.
Lady Kluck introduced herself. "I'm tryin' t' foynd an old dear friend o' moyn. She too is a fox, wi' four bairn rabbits."
"Her name wouldn't be Marian Brisbee by any chance, would it?" The badger said as he limped back through the door.
Suddenly, it all came together in Kluck's mind. "'Pon m' word! You're th' one on th' 'Wanted' posters!" She exclaimed. "Please! Ah must knoo! Are the charges agin' Marian true?" She entreated &him.;
Ages frowned but kept his composure. "No, Madam, I can assure you in all honesty that those charges are pure fabrication! Mrs. Brisbee is as much a victim of Jenner's foul plotting as King Nicodemus and her late husband were!" He replied bitterly.
Lady Kluck let out a relieved sigh. That this Dr. Ages could be lying to her was, she supposed, a possibility; but she very much doubted it because she did not see what he could possibly gain by doing so.
Ages then turned his attention to Heather and Stabb. "You said that you were looking for a fox named Justin." He said sternly, his gray-blue eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Are you bounty hunters? Here to arrest him and take him back to Jenner?"
Heather was dumbfounded at the accusation. "Oh no, Sir! We left th' City because we wish t' help him fight against tha' cruel tyrant!" She exclaimed.
Stabb nodded his agreement. "I resigned my commission in his Guard because he was starting to use us as a secret police force. I wouldn't be at all surprised if our names are on a few 'Wanted' posters as well." He said quietly.
Ages relaxed a bit and said, "I believe you. But you must understand that Jenner will use every means at his disposal to eliminate ANY threat to his hold on the Throne; and right now, Justin and Mrs. Brisbee represent the only hope Britain has of ending Jenner's reign."
Heather and Stabb solemnly nodded their understanding. Ages then excused himself and went to attend to his patient, Lady Kluck following behind and inquiring as to Mrs. Brisbee's welfare and that of her children.
A while later, after the innkeeper had been tended to and put to bed and the travellers had taken much needed hot baths; they, constable Binns and Dr. Ages gathered around the fireplace while Heather stirred a spicy-sweet smelling potato-leek soup in a small cauldron that hung from an iron hook embedded in the mantle. Kluck was sitting happily on a sofa humming to herself and knitting. Will was amusing the constable by performing a few basic stage-magic tricks with a gold crown that Binns had lent him. Ages and Stabb were conversing in hushed tones in an alcove.
"I'm curious," Ages said, "Why do you wish to help Justin dethrone the King? After all, what concern is it of yours if Jenner is treating his subjects badly so long as you get paid?" He asked. "Young Scarlet's and Miss Kilcannon's desire can, I suppose, be attributed to the foolish idealism of youth. You, sir, do NOT strike me as the idealistic type."
Stabb shrugged. He related his past and the incident at the orphanage to Ages in a flat, unemotional tone. "I suppose that I resented being used by Jenner as a tool to terrorize his subjects the way that he was using those poor kids. After the hayseed," He jerked a thumb toward Will. "Kicked my tail an' then showed concern for me, I guess I realized that I was fightin' on the wrong side for the wrong cause. I decided that, just once in my life, I want to fight to do some good 'cause my fightin' days; if not over; are certainly numbered."
Ages smiled sagely. "You had an epiphany!" He said.
"Epiphany?" The weasel asked, pronouncing the word slowly.
"A flash of insight. A moment of self-revelation." Ages explained.
Stabb shrugged again and the beginnings of a smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Yeah I guess I did, didn't I." He said thoughtfully.
"Such insight into one's true nature is very rare!" Ages exclaimed happily. "From it comes the ability to see resources that others can't and the wisdom to use them in a given situation."
"I've always thought of myself as a warrior rather than a philosopher; that is, when I was allowed to think at all." Stabb murmured. "I'm not too sure that 'wisdom' is a word that can be applied in my case."
"The two aren't mutually exclusive." Ages said, waving a dismissive paw. "King Nicodemus was a first-rate war-leader, but he could also discuss many subjects; from History to Medicine; with intelligence. Tell me, Mr. Stabb, can you read?"
"A little." Stabb sighed. "Just enough to read orders and maps." He said by way of explanation. "Why do you ask?"
"Because I sense a thirst in you." Ages said bluntly. "A thirst for knowledge that, for whatever reason, has either been denied to you or that you've denied to yourself. If you're willing, I can help you to satisfy this thirst."
"I dunno." Stabb muttered dubiously. "It's probably a bit late to be tryin' t' teach this ol' weasel new tricks."
"Nonsense!" Ages exclaimed; pounding the flat of one paw on the table between them, causing the others to look a them in surprise. Ages ignored their stares and continued. "Wisdom is NOT a matter of how old you are or how smart you think you are! Wisdom CANNOT be taught! Wisdom is not something given only to Kings and Scholars and denied to the rest of the World! For example; a blacksmith must be taught how to heat and pound and shape the iron that he holds in his tongs, but what of the muscles in the arm that holds and guides his hammer? Isn't even the tiniest baby born with those muscles?" Ages asked.
"Yeah, I suppose so." Stabb replied, unsure of where Ages was headed.
"But through many years of practice, the blacksmith has developed his muscles to a strength and accuracy that allows him to shape a rod or plate of iron into anything he desires; correct?" Ages queried.
Stabb's mind went into overdrive as he pondered Ages question. "Yes, so if I understand you correctly, you're telling me that wisdom is already within us from the moment we're born; but we need to practice USING it in order to get any use FROM it!" Stabb said.
"Exactly!" Ages exclaimed. "Now, take the example further!" He ordered.
Stabb scratched the short, rough gray-brown fur on the back of his neck in puzzlement. Then, slowly, it dawned on him the point that the old badger was trying to make. "And if given the proper training and practice, I can develop my own wisdom!" Stabb exclaimed.
"In a way." Ages said. "When I was young, and believe it or not I WAS young once!" He chortled, "My mind was like a stack of stone and wood just waiting to be built into a grand manor-house. But every house needs a foundation on which to rest or what will happen?"
"Why, it sinks int' th' ground!" Heather, who had been entranced by Ages and Stabb's conversation, blurted out.
"Thank you, young lady, yes." Ages said, not minding the interruption. "My mind needed to be built on a foundation laid by other learned minds before me, just as their minds had been built upon foundations laid by learned minds before them; and so on and so on back through history."
"And my mind can be like that too?" Stabb asked, not daring to hope at what the answer might be.
"Of course!" Ages stated. "You can build your manor-house, as it were, as large and many-roomed as you please depending on your interests. My main interest happened to be the field of Medicine so my manor-house probably looks more like a hospital than anything else." He chuckled.
Stabb was elated by what he heard. "Would you be willing to help me? I don't want to be a soldier anymore. I told the girl a few weeks ago that I'm tired o' killin' and I still mean it." He said, his voice tight with excitement and emotion; his eyes wide with a strange joy that he'd never felt before.
Ages looked Stabb squarely in the eyes and said, "I can help, but it's up to you to develop the wisdom that you say you so badly want! I warn you now that wisdom is a much more difficult thing towield than any sword that you may have used in your past because it doesn't penetrate any armor or draw any blood, and you'll have to make many difficult choices alongthe way, but when used properly it can open up worlds of thought that you probably never knew existed."
"Don't worry, Doc," Stabb said ruefully, "I already know a thing 'r two about difficult choices."
Heather served her soup and the group ate in contemplative silence. After a while, constableBinns excused himself to check on his brother's condition and make one last patrol of the village. Soon, the travellers were in their beds; sleeping off their exhaustion. Outside, the Autumn wind still blew cold.
Mrs. Brisbee warmed the last of the tea in the cup that she held over the tiny flame of the candle. Once again her night was bereft of badly needed sleep. It had gotten to the point that she needed at least a two-hour nap in the afternoons in order to function.
The children had been very helpful over the past several weeks, having planted a garden in mid-Summer when they had first arrived after the fire that had destroyed Dr. Ages home, they had started to harvest and, under her supervision, can and otherwise store their food for the expected harsh Winter ahead.
Jeremy too was helping. His burns had completely healed and, while he still itched a bit from the regrowth of his feathers, he supervised the children while she took her much-needed naps. But she had noticed a profound change in the rooster since the fire. He had become more serious, perhaps even a bit more angry and pessimistic, in his outlook on the future. If someone mentioned King Jenner, he would frown and try to change the subject or fall silent and walk away. He had also lost interest in being a Bard, refusing Dr. Ages offer to find a replacement for the lute that had been destroyed in the fire. Instead, he had bought an old over-under cross-bow and a quiver and taught himself to use it and make the bolts with which to arm it.
Other things had changed as well, mostly for the worse. Toby's father had been bringing them news of the various disturbances since the announcement of the Land Repossession decree. Just that morning, he'd informed them of his decision to resign his post and move himself and his son to Wales or the Scottish Lands "...until that idiot either dies or comes to his senses." Also, many of her neighbors, who would sometimes drop by to chat or exchange local gossip or ask for or give advice, began isolating themselves from each other, refusing to let her or others visit them. One of the few who still welcomed her company; a mole, also a widow with a young son; shook her head sadly and said, "Nobody trusts no one no more, Ma'am. They're afeared tha' th' King'll have'm arrest'd an' throwed 'n 'is dungin's." When Mrs. Brisbee had pointed out the improbability of such a thing actually happening, The mole had reminded her that fear could turn the least believable notion into rock-solid truth if no facts were available to contradict them.
Which brought her thoughts to Dr. Ages. He had left a few days before; ostensibly to visit several friends and, if possible, pick up information on Justin. When she had made known her concern about the condition of his leg, he'd told her that her concern; while not unreasonable and, in fact, welcome; was less of a priority than the aquisition of accurate information. She had also expressed her fear that he might be taken prisoner by those still loyal to Jenner.
"That would, no doubt, be a major setback to our cause." He had sighed. "But I'm old. I have no fear of what Jenner MIGHT do to me. My heart is resolved to stop what he's doing RIGHT NOW to Britain." He'd stated quite forcefully.
A thin whisp of steam rose from the tea in the cup in her hand. She swirled it around the cup and downed the last of it, the slightly bitter warm liquid coating the back of her throat.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a figure standing in the shadows of the doorway at the corner of the room. It was Timothy, standing in his nightgown and impassively watching her.
"Hello." She said in a half-whisper. "What're you doing up?"
"I couldn't sleep." He said. "Had 'nother dream."
Mrs. Brisbee held out her arms and motioned him to come to her. Timothy walked tiredly to her and let her lift him onto her lap. "Was it good or bad?" She asked patiently. Timothy had been having both dreams and nightmares with increasing frequency. He had been waking up so often, screaming or crying in fear, that Brisbee had decided to move him into Justin's bed until the other fox returned.
"I dunno. Good, I think." The young rabbit said without emotion. "Dr. Ages found those travellers that I been dreaming about." He paused for a few moments as if trying to think about something. "But I still can't tell who they are." He added, obvious disappointment in his voice.
"It's alright." She said soothingly. "We'll find out soon enough, I suppose."
She then extinguished the candle and carried Timothy to their bedroom and tucked him into bed. She then slipped out of her robe, and slid into her own and lay awake wondering. Timothy had been dreaming of these so-called "travellers" for the past few weeks now. But who were they? What role, if any, would they play in helping Justin to bring about Jenner's downfall? Were his dreams of them in any way connected to the nightmares that he was also suffering from? Timothy described, in great detail, a horrible battle between a large group of animals; led by Justin, herself, Dr. Ages, Jeremy and these mysterious travellers; and a legion of beings that Timothy would only describe as "armored demons" led by an evil half-fox, half-lion demon-creature. That the "demon-creature" probably represented Jenner Mrs. Brisbee did not doubt for a moment, although she was mystified at the significance that Timothy always placed on its vulpine attributes. And she also did not doubt that, one day soon, a bloody battle WOULD take place and that, in the end, only Justin or Jenner would emerge from it alive and the animals of Britain would live in either a new era of freedom or an eternity of darkness and slavery.
She shuddered quietly inside at the thought.
After a while, she slipped away to sleep, her exhausted mind letting her rest.
Justin stared silently at the thin shaft of early-morning light that penetrated between the curtains of the window and shone on the ivory-white of the plaster of the wall. He remembered all-too-well the breakdown that he'd suffered yesterday afternoon. "Those folk are counting on me to be a leader and I start crying like a two-year-old child!" He angrily thought to himself. But then, he'd been doing that an awful lot lately. "I guess it can be pretty hard to keep your emotions in check when your world's being turned upside-down." He decided, not that this explanation made him feel any better.
Just outside the bedroom, he heard a rustling and, a moment later, two light taps on the door. "Come in." He said.
"Are you decent?" Linney asked, the hint of mischief in her voice clear even from the other side of the door.
Justin smiled, remembering the little game that they had played when he was young. The large number of children in the Frasier home had made privacy a rare commodity and when Justin had been given the opportunity to have a room to himself for several months one summer he'd guarded his privacy zealously, demanding that he be given time to make himself "decent" before anyone entered. But Linnette would sometimes "accidentally" barge in and; when he complained; playfully point out that as well as being unable to see him, she had changed his diapers enough that it really didn't matter if he was "decent" or not. "No," He answered with a touch of his own playful sarcasm. "But that certainly never stopped you before."
Linnette laughed and opened the door. "Alright, Sleepyhead, your breakfast is on the table. I have to go and meet with the other farmer's wives so that we can plan on how we're going to contribute to the fight against Jenner." She stated.
"Thanks." Justin said. "By the way, is the Sheriff still here?" He asked as an afterthought.
"'Fraid not. He stayed the night but left just before dawn." Linnette said. "Is something wrong?"
Justin shrugged. "Nothing that can't wait until I see him again." He said.
Linnette started to leave but changed her mind and came in and sat at the side of the bed, her face more serious. She cupped her paws in her lap, a sign among the family that she wished for undivided attention; Justin acknowledged by placing his paws in hers. "Justin, you know that I would never try to pry into your affairs; but what did you find at your father's house? I mean, did you find what you were looking for?" She asked.
Justin shook his head. "I found the tomb in which he's buried, but I'm afraid that with him and my mother died the answers to all the questions that I have about my life before my adoption. It's as if there's a third book that Dr. Ages never got to write and whose pages are now forever closed to me." He said, both sadness and bitterness in his voice.
As she had years ago, whenever one of her many younger siblings had fallen and scraped a knee or been stung by a bee, Linnette put a comforting arm around Justin and drew him to her and began rocking him gently back and forth. "The past is gone little brother." She said softly. "Nothing that you or I do or say can bring it or mom and dad or your real parents back. But I always want you to remember that Galen and I will always love and support you no matter how all this turns out." She then lifted herself from the bed. "Please tell Mrs. Brisbee that we'll try to make her and her children as welcome and comfortable as possible under the circumstances." She said as she left the room. A few moments later she was out the door and tapping her way down the path toward the nearby village.
After he'd bathed, dressed and eaten the breakfast that his sister had prepared, Justin too was gone; leaving the darkened and lonely cottage behind.
It was well past Noon when the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire returned to his office. His Deputy-in-Charge, a ferret named Clyde Pegg, told him that all had been quiet during his absence but the courier-mail was stacking up. Brutus waved a dismissive paw and told Clyde to gather as many of the other Deputies as possible together for a meeting later that night. He then retired to his office, angrily throwing aside the courier bags that lay on his desk and chair. He then opened the safe and removed the letter of resignation. He then added to it, signed it, and shoved it into one of the bags.
The Roll-Call room, as it was known, was filled with the controlled chaos of hushed conversation. Word had spread quickly among the Deputies that something of great importance was to be announced.
The room fell silent as Brutus and Clyde; followed by Wendell, who carried a small portable desk, paper, pen and a small bottle of ink; entered, looking very grim. Clyde took his place behind the small lectern, Brutus sat in a large chair against the wall behind him and Wendell sat at the far right seat of the front row.
Clyde then called for order and took roll-call. One-by-one, all the Deputies either answered to their names or were confirmed as on duty elsewhere.
Clyde then stepped aside and Brutus stood and took his place. He waited for Wendell to finish writing and said, "It is my sad duty to announce that, effective immediately, I've resigned my office as Sheriff of Nottinghamshire."
The room itself seemed to gasp. Then it erupted in confusion. Clyde again stepped to the lectern and began pounding a gavel on a block, calling for order. After the assembly again fell silent, one of the Senior Deputies; a weasel named Wilbur Splitbranch; raised his paw.
"Yes, Wilbur." Clyde said wearily. "I see you. What's your question?"
Wilbur stood. "I know this is askin' the obvious," He said, his voice heavy with self-importance. "But, uh, why's the Sheriff leavin'?"
Clyde frowned. While he had no problem with weasels in general; they were, after all, distantly related to his own species; he never could figure out how the Waning-Crescent Clan; of which Wilbur was a leading and influential member and to which Wendell, as well as most of the other weasels in the Shire, also belonged; had survived as long as it had. While they had reputations as hard workers, they were not considered to be the brightest members within their species. "You're right, Wilbur, it is asking the obvious." He said with more than a hint of irritation in his voice. "But I think that it would be best if I let the Sheriff tell you himself. Sheriff?"
Clyde again stepped aside, letting Brutus have the floor.
"My reason for resigning is actually quite simple," Brutus began. "I've decided that I can no longer serve my oath to the laws of Britain AND serve the King in good faith. Yesterday I took a blood-oath to give my life, if necessary, to oppose and overthrow King Jenner because his conduct toward his subjects; you as well as I; has become intolerable." Brutus paused and gazed upon the astonished faces of his Deputies; except for Wendell, who was madly scribbling his notes. He then continued. "I realize that, technically, this constitutes an act of treason on my part. Well, so be it. If I end up on a gallows at some later date, I go knowing that my conscience is clear. But until that happens, I'm going to fight against Jenner's tyranny." Brutus paused again and took a deep breath. Now would come the hardest part of all. "Now, what I'm about to do next may sound a bit crazy..."
"It can't be anymore crazy than what we've already heard!" Shouted a voice from somewhere in the audience. Some of the Deputies broke out in laughter.
Brutus smiled a bit but turned serious again and continued. "But I'm going to ask you to carefully weigh your loyalty to your oath as Deputies against whatever loyalty that you may feel for King Jenner as I did. Personally I found him wanting, badly, in all respects and could not see a time in the future when things might get any better. Then, if you feel the way that I do, I'm going to ask you to join me in helping to kick his tail off the Throne!"
Immediately, a whole roomful of paws shot up and dozens of questions were shouted at the Sheriff and Deputy-in-Charge or whispered between the seated members. After several minutes of gavel-pounding, a modicum of order was restored and Clyde pointed to a hare who had kept his paw raised.
The hare, whose name was Liam, stood and asked, "Join you where? And while I do believe that His Majesty's definitely gone off his rocker," This brought another round of guffaws from the assembled Deputies, "What makes you think that anyone'll help you? After all, didn't you help him take the Throne in the first place?"
An angry buzz erupted from the other Deputies and several tried to shout the hare down, but Brutus raised a paw and they immediately fell silent. "Yes, I did help Jenner to get where he is today. I let my own greed for power and fear of King Nicodemus's plans to reform the Office blind me to his transparent manipulations and override my better judgment. But now I've seen the error of my ways and can't, in good conscience, serve him any longer." He said earnestly. He then explained his meeting with Justin and the farmers the previous day and Justin's plan to use his father's estate as his base of operations against Jenner.
A buzz again rose from the audience. Then Senior Deputy Wilbur stood and said, "I have somethin' to say about this!" Several in the room commented to the effect that Wilbur usually seemed to have something to say about EVERYTHING, but Clyde gaveled them to silence and indicated to Wilbur that he could now speak.
"Now I realize," The weasel stated, "That our clan's not considered the brightest in the realm; an' perhaps this is even true. But a good-sized number of my relations are farmers themselves who've worked very hard for whatever respect the Waning-Crescent Clan HAS earned. King Jenner's Land Repossession Decree would've thrown all that hard-won respect right in the loo..." Other Deputies, themselves part-time farmers or relatives of farmers, nodded sympathetically. "...In fact, I had planned on goin' to the City myself to make a personal complaint to His Majesty. But I see now that such a complaint would only have fallen on deaf ears. But I am smart enough to know a good thing when I see it, an' if the Sheriff thinks that this Justin and his effort to dethrone King Jenner is worth givin' up his job an' even dyin' for; then so do I!"
A tremendous cheer erupted from the rows of Deputies and several shook paws with Wilbur and offered congratulations as he sat back down. Even Clyde nodded his approval.
Once the cheering had did down, Brutus addressed Wilbur specifically. "I hope you realize the danger that you'll be &placing; yourselves in. Jenner's not gonna tolerate this challenge to his power." He said.
"An' we're not gonna tolerate his abuse of power!" Wilbur spat back. "My clan has no objection to subjecting itself to the legitimate rule of the Crown, but we will NOT allow ourselves to suffer enslavement by the King!"
Again the audience cheered, several Deputies patting his sharply sloping shoulders to show their approval. Brutus nodded. "Glad to have you on board, Deputy." He said. "Now, if there's anyone who; for whatever reason; still wishes to serve Jenner, please leave the room now and nothing will be held against you." Brutus paused but, other than the scrape of a chair leg and a few nervous coughs, nobody moved from their seats. "Okay, now to the nitty-gritty. I've had Wendell draw up a resignation petition that will go out with the next courier. Basically it tells Jenner that we don't like the way he's running Britain and that we refuse to carry out the Repossession Decree. If you want to make any comments after you sign, be my guest; there's plenty of paper." Scattered laughter erupted from the Deputies. "After you sign, go home to your families. Then I strongly suggest that tomorrow you finish whatever harvesting you need to do and head for the Locksley Estate because I rather doubt that whoever Jenner appoints in my place is gonna be in anything like a forgiving mood."
"But what about our houses and lands?" Liam asked skeptically. "If we leave, won't Jenner just take them anyway?"
Brutus nodded. "Yes, but you'll at least be free to have a fighting chance to get them back and your family will be safe instead of being at the not-so-tender mercies of the King." He said pointedly.
"What should we bring with us?" Another Deputy asked from the back of the room.
"No more than you absolutely need." Brutus replied. "Things like your harvests, weapons, tents and whatever will help you get through the coming Winter are fine; but stuff like furniture, unless you plan on using it for kindling to start your fires, are best left at home."
"But my mother's confined to bed!" Said a third. "What about her?"
Brutus rolled his eyes in frustration. Clyde noticed and quickly stepped in to help him. "I'm sure we'll be able to figure out something." The ferret said. He then pointed to Wendell. "Remember to sign the resignation petition before you leave." He announced. He then rapped the gavel on the lectern and hastily dismissed the meeting.
Shortly afterward; Brutus, Clyde, Wilbur and Wendell were gathered in Brutus's office. It had taken about another two hours, but eventually all of the other Deputies in the Shire had signed the petition. "Well," Brutus said wearily, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "That went a whole lot better than expected." He then leafed through the petition one last time, rolled it into a scroll, tied it with a length of scarlet ribbon and placed it in the courier's bag that lay on his desk. "At least no one tried to arrest me for high treason to the Crown." He said without humor.
"You've done the right thing, Sir!" Wendell said excitedly. "An' I'm also proud of you, Uncle Wilbur! I thought only the Sheriff could speechify like that!"
"Yeah," Clyde said, "Even I've gotta admit I'm impressed."
Wilbur shrugged. "The Waning-Crescent Clan owes a great deal of loyalty to the other animals in Nottinghamshire." He said solemnly as his voice grew hushed and his eyes took on a far-away look. "When our grandparents came to Britain during the war after escaping from the Continent, none of the other Sheriffs would let them stay for very long for fear that we'd be disloyal an' cause trouble. But for some reason Nottingham was different. The Sheriff an' the other animals actually made them feel welcome."
Brutus smiled. The Sheriff of Nottinghamshire at that time had been his own father, Benjamin; newly appointed to the Office by King Nicodemus's father, King Sigmund. That Brutus's father would extend such a kindness to other animals, even weasels from a foreign land, didn't surprise the son in the least. His father had always loved helping others and had taken his oath to carry out the laws of the Crown very seriously; but always with compassion. But Brutus's smile turned to sadness as he remembered the events that had brought him to this point. He couldn't help wondering what his father would think of him; after all, hadn't he helped create this very situation by his own complicity in King Nicodemus's murder? "But I've changed." He reminded himself. "I've sworn on my own life to rid Britain of that mistake and I fully intend to carry out my vow." Maybe his father wouldn't judge him quite so harshly after all.
Brutus was roused from his thoughts by the sound of flapping wings at the door. Even before a first knock, Wendell was out &of; his seat. He bolted to the door and ushered the visitor inside. It was a rook, one of the King's official couriers.
Brutus grabbed the cloth bag from his desk and tossed it to the bird, who caught it expertly.
The rook regarded him with wary gray eyes as he felt the weight of his package. "Feels a tad light tonight." He said, his voice a throaty rasp. "Yours are usually the heaviest ones on my route." He used his beak to indicate the other bags slung across his back.
"Then what're you complaining about?" Brutus asked calmly. But inside, every nerve was on edge.
The rook shrugged. He then placed the bag around his neck and stepped back into the blackness of the night, only the sheen of his black feathers from the dim light from the lamp in the room giving any clue that he was there. A quick flap of his powerful wings sent him airborne and Southward to his next stop.
Wendell closed the door against the cold, but thankfully windless, Autumn night.
"Well my friends, I have a feeling that we're all in some real serious trouble." Wilbur observed nonchalantly.
Clyde arched an eyebrow. "Anybody ever tell you that you have a gift for stating the obvious?" He said sarcastically.
"Nope." the weasel said mischievously. "Your the first."
"Sir, wake up please."
Sullivan groaned. He couldn't remember when he'd last gotten a decent nights sleep. He mumbled something to whoever was shaking him.
"Sir, are you awake?"
Sullivan opened his eyes. "Yes, dammit, I am now." He growled, his anger too diffused by the fog of sleep to actually inflict on the guard who had awakened him any of the violence that he would have liked at that moment. He sat up, rubbed his bleary eyes and examined the night sky through the window of his bedroom. While he could see from the positions of the stars that it was almost morning, he could not see any hint of light blue on the horizon that would have told him that the sun was about to rise. "What the hell is so important that you wake me up before dawn?" He demanded.
"His Majesty wishes to see you immediately, Sir." The guard replied. "He told me to bring you as you are."
Sullivan sighed, grabbed his robe from a bedknob of his headboard and followed the guard from the barracks.
As he walked across the Castle's courtyard he could hear shouting from the direction of the throneroom.
When he arrived he found Jenner pacing the floor, angrily dictating a letter to one of his scribes; an overweight hedgehog that everyone called Iggy.
"...such behavior will NOT be tolerated while I rule this Kingdom! And furthermore..." Jenner stopped when he saw the new arrival. "That will be all for now. We can resume this later." He told the scribe, his icy tone sending a chill down Sullivan's back to the tip of his tail.
The scribe bowed as far as his belly would permit and waddled from the room. Sullivan could not help but notice the tears streaming from his eyes.
Jenner, meanwhile, had stalked to the throne and planted himself on it. From one of the armrests he took a scrolled document and tossed it at Sullivan. It landed short of its intended recipient and Sullivan was forced to bend down and pick it up. "Read!" Jenner commanded.
Sullivan unrolled the pages and read through it. That the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire could compose such a document came as no real surprise to him. Of all the Sheriffs of the various Shires of Britain, he had struck Sullivan as potentially the most reluctant to accept the price of Jenner's ascension to the Throne. That Jenner HAD actually exacted that price must have come as an immense shock to them. Jenner had not, after all, been terribly explicit about the method by which he would depose his adopted brother. Probably they, like himself; Sullivan imagined; were caught by surprise that he would actually be so brazen as to commit murder. It was an irony that even Sullivan could appreciate: The top law enforcement officers of the land abetting the murder of THEIR boss, even if it WAS a conspiracy of omission rather than commission.
"Well?" Jenner asked, drumming his fingers on the armrest.
Sullivan shrugged. "What can I say, Your Majesty? He wants out? I say 'Good riddance.'" He replied.
Jenner made a sour face. "Fine time for that ursine idiot to get ethical on me!" He spat. "I had plans for Nottinghamshire and needed someone of his reputation and organizational skills to help me carry them out!"
"So? You're the King!" Sullivan said, "Your word is law! Just appoint a new Sheriff!"
"Exactly why you're here!" Jenner said, a smile slowly crossing his lips.
"Huh?" Sullivan grunted, suddenly confused.
Jenner alighted from his Throne and fairly skipped over to where Sullivan was standing and placed an arm firmly around his shoulder. "Why, who else would I appoint to be my new Sheriff of Nottingham? You've been my most faithful servant through these harsh past few months; and I've been so remiss in rewarding that loyalty and devotion!"
"If only you knew!" Sullivan thought to himself nervously. Over the Summer he'd maintained sporadic contact with the so-called "Society to Maintain the Rule of the King", often pronounced "smirk" by those few animals who knew of its existence. While he had not met with "The Voice" since the meeting at the inn several weeks ago, he was kept apprised of their status by notes slipped betweenhis pillow and pillowcase every few weeks by, he assumed, themaid who had introduced him to them. But this development would, however unwittingly on Jenner's part, endanger that relationship. "Uh, gee, Your Majesty. I, uh, I must admit I'm flattered, but I'm sure that there're others FAR better qualified for that Office than I am. After all, I'm a soldier, not a lawman." He said, picking his words as carefully as possible.
"Nonsense!" Jenner said with a dismissive wave of his beringed paw. "The only qualifications for that post now are loyalty to me and the ruthlessness to carry out my plans for that particular Shire. Think of it, my friend, you'll have power far beyond giving marching orders to a few Troop-Captains! You'll have a whole Shire at your command!" He exclaimed, his voice rising with excitement.
"I don' know," Sullivan said dubiously. "After that Repossession Decree, I'm not gonna be the most popular public figure..."
"Pfagh!" Jenner exclaimed derisively. "Popularity has nothing to do with law enforcement! Even some of my 'dear' brother's own laws were unpopular!" ("Sure!" Sullivan pointedly thought to himself. "They were unpopular with the TRUE criminal element; not ordinary subjects!") "The line between soldier and police official is much thinner than most of your future colleagues would have you believe." A half-sneer came to Jenner's lips and his voice became a cold whisper. "In fact, I've been considering 're-evaluating' the appointments of several of the other Sheriffs. I'm beginning to have my doubts as to where THEIR loyalties lie."
Inside, Sullivan resigned himself to the inevitable. To refuse Jenner's offer, while not necessarily a career-ender, would make the lion think twice about Sullivan's own loyalty to him; and Sullivan needed Jenner to see him as someone in whom he could have the highest degree of trust so that when the opportunity presented itself, Sullivan could take advantage of that trust and use that opportunity to eliminate Jenner. "Well," Sullivan said with the merest hint of reluctance, "I guess you're looking at the new Sheriff of Nottingham."
"Excellent!" Jenner exclaimed. "Make whatever arrangements are necessary to leave this morning. You'll also want to paw-pick a group of Deputies to take with you. I'll swear you all in just before you leave." He instructed.
"What about a new Captain-of-the-Guard?" Sullivan asked.
Jenner waved the question off. "Oh, I don't know." He said. "What about the Captain of Third Troop? Gil..."
"Gisbourne, Your Majesty?" Sullivan corrected, cleverly disguising it as a question.
"Yes. What about him?" Jenner asked.
"He's a bit young." Sullivan said, surprised by Jenner's choice. "Clemm and Sykes have more experience and they'd probably be more than a little ticked off that someone ten years their junior got fast-tracked on a whim."
Jenner's countenance darkened. It wasn't like Sullivan to show initiative. While he didn't exactly want unadulterated sycophancy (such behavior tended to quickly degenerate into insufferably irritable sniveling) he also didn't want a mind potentially capable of independent thought that might later "get ethical" and begin to question orders. But he also prided himself on being smart enough to recognize those boundaries that could be safely crossed, and those best left undisturbed. Sullivan no doubt knew his soldiers well enough that he was probably right about their reaction to the promotion that had just been proposed; and while "divide and conquer" was Jenner's usual, not to mention most effective,s trategy, "united we stand" also had its own advantages. As quickly as it had come, the beginnings of Jenner's frown was gone. "Perhaps you're right, old friend." He said. He would interview all of the Troop-Captains anyway just to get an idea of what kind of loyalty he could expect from them. "I'll no doubt have made a decision by the end of the day." He said noncommittally.
The first rays of the dawn light were now beginning to creep through the window of the room. Jenner dismissed Sullivan and called for the scribe, who quickly appeared; looking more frazzled and exhausted than usual; and waddled back into the throne room. After the door had closed, Sullivan could hear Jenner resuming the tirade that he'd been dictating when Sullivan had been summoned. For only the second time in his life, Sullivan felt genuine sympathy for a fellow creature.
Chapter Forty-One
The Noon Sun shone brightly as Mrs. Brisbee stood at the back door and looked out onto the field where her children and Jeremy were working. The harvest was pretty much over now, the only work remaining being to plow under the old roots and stems and other waste that would serve as fertilizer for next years plantings. Over the past several days, she'd been taking careful inventory of what had been reaped from the garden and had not liked what she'd seen. Because it had been mid-Summer when the garden had been planted, some of what was now in the root-cellar was not yet ripe; nor was there enough of it to feed everyone in the group for the whole winter. Jeremy had assured her that, if worst came to worst, he could temporarily resume his minstreling career. When she'd pointed out that he had no lute to sing with, he'd shrugged and said that he could always trade his crossbow for one. "After all," He'd stated confidently, "It's not as if this is the only crossbow in all of Britain."
Another problem was that Timothy's dreams and nightmares were becoming more and more troubling because they were now beginning to manifest themselves when he was awake. At any time during the day or night he would slip into a trance and describe events that were either apparently happening in distant places but at that moment; or would supposedly happen sometime in the future, usually related to the previous dreams about the eventual battle that she believed would be fought between Justin and Jenner. Over the past several weeks she'd even taken to writing down the contents of the dreams; but it was of little help. Most of them were cloaked in an obscure symbolism by Timothy's young mind; no doubt created as a form of self-protection, she decided, otherwise he'd probably have gone insane from fear months ago.
The smell of lentils reminded her that lunch was on the stove. She went back to the kitchen and stirred the steaming pot of soup. She was just about to set the table and call the others in when Cynthia rushed in through the door.
"Mommy! Mommy!" She exclaimed breathlessly. "Doctor Ages came back! An' he's brought some new friend's with him!" The little rabbit quickly grabbed her mother's paw and dragged the vixen outside. At the far end of the field, Jeremy and the other children were talking to Ages, a weasel dressed in the uniform of the King's Guard, a young and handsome; if not particularly well-dressed; gray fox, a beautiful young skunk and, most surprisingly of all, a face that Mrs. Brisbee instantly recognized. She let go of her daughter's paw and ran as fast as her own legs could carry her and threw her arms around the neck of the chicken, tears of joy streaming from her eyes.
"Oh, Klucky! You don't know how glad I am to see you!" She cried.
The hen warmly returned the hug. "Och, lassie! No' as glad as I am t' see you!" She said.
"How's your mother?" Brisbee asked. "Is she..."
Lady Kluck shook her head. "She's in the care o' th' spirits now, lass." She put a wing on Mrs. Brisbee's shoulder when the vixen bowed her head in sorrow. "Don't look so down, dear. Mother lived a long an' happy life. I'm sure tha' she appreciates the thought."
Mrs. Brisbee had met Lady Kluck's mother several times as a young girl at Court. While the elder Kluck had, on the outside at least, been rather haughty of manner; when she'd been in more relaxed surroundings, she'd shown a genuine charm that Mrs. Brisbee had tried hard to emulate.
Ages then introduced Stabb, Will, and Heather; and Mrs. Brisbee introduced herself, the children and Jeremy. She then invited them in for lunch.
After Mrs. Brisbee and Heather served the soup and they were all seated at the table; Ages had Stabb, Will, Heather and Kluck give brief accounts of their journeys and why they had risked becoming outlaws to find both Mrs. Brisbee and Justin.
"Y'see, Ma'am," Stabb said. "Jenner's hurt us all in some way. An' he'll keep hurtin' you, me,..." He swept a paw across the table to emphasize his point. "...all of us, all of Britain until he gets what he wants."
"But what DOES he want?" Asked Martin, irritation plain in his voice. "He's the King! He already has everything!"
Ages chuckled. "In Jenner's mind 'everything'; power, property, money, adoration; isn't enough. He and those who hang onto his cape believe that, by virtue of the mere fact that they have a lot of money or political power, they should be able to control the smallest aspects of the lives of those whom they consider 'inferior' to them." Ages explained.
Stabb nodded sadly. "That's what it comes down to. Control." He said. "Jenner and his friends know that if and when they can take total control of the land, they'll control what and how much food is grown and can use that food as a way to force us..." Again he used his paw to indicate those seated around the table. "...to support their lifestyle."
"Y'mean they want to turn us into slaves." Martin said glumly.
"In so many words, Yes." Stabb stated.
The rest of the meal was eaten in silence as the gravity of Stabb's words weighed upon the group.
Chapter Fourty-Two
Linnette Talbot was less than impressed by the Locksley Estate. While she was sure that, visually, the building must have represented untold splendor; she, being unable to see, was concerned about more practical aspects of her and Galen's move from their tiny cottage on the heath, such as navigating her way around the massive edifice. It had taken her several weeks to become completely comfortable with the layout of the cottage; and this even though Galen had designed and built it specifically with her visual impairment in mind. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the manor-house. In the few hours that she'd spent there she'd gotten lost in the sprawling structure more times than she cared to think about. Finally, in utter frustration, she'd demanded in no uncertain terms that Galen either postpone his efforts to supervise the rebuilding of the collapsed kitchen wall and guide her through the building himself, or; if he was unwilling or unable to do this; provide either a guide or some other means that would give her free access throughout the building without her worrying about getting lost or tripping over something and breaking her neck. Galen had stood silently and unflinchingly during this dressing down, afterwards ordering several of the workers to rig a temporary system of ropes that his wife could use to guide her through the building until she had familiarized herself with the layout. When one of the workers had made a crack about who wore the pants in the family, Galen had angrily suggested that HE try to navigate a building this large while wearing a blindfold and pointedly reminded them all that the "blindfold" that his wife wore was one that could NEVER be removed after such an excercize. He then ordered that the worker who'd made the remark guide her through the house for the rest of the day. The worker had vehemently protested, but Galen pointedly reminded him of his vow to Justin and had made it clear that Justin would not take such mistreatment of his adopted sister lightly. The worker, cowed into a sullen silence, dutifully escorted her through the manor-house until the end of the work-day.
After dinner she and Galen withdrew to the small apartment that they had set up within two interior rooms of the building, settling themselves in front of a small fire in the fireplace.
"Honey, I want to apologize for that scene that I made in front of your workers earlier today." She said. "I had no right to embarrass you like that."
"No, Linney, you were absolutely right. I should have remembered how hard it was for you when we moved into the cottage and realized that a place this big would present it's own problems." He said. "Hopefully the ropes that we've strung throughout the manor will help some; and tomorrow I'll try to figure out some way to let you know what room you're in at any given time."
"I'm going to miss the Heath." She said wistfully. "Once other animals start moving in, we cankiss anymore moments like this goodbye."
"I don't see why. Even if we end up moving into a single room we'll still have a measure of privacy." He said. "And besides, we both come from large families; it's not as if we're not used to living in some rather cramped quarters." He added.
Linnette pouted a bit. "I know," She said, a hint of regret in her voice. "But I was really beginning to enjoy the feeling of being able to go through a day without someone else offering to help me do this or that chore. I kinda liked that..."
"Independence." He finished the sentence for her.
She nodded. "As isolated as we were, I really thought that it was a splendid isolation because I knew that it would always be one that I would share with you for the rest of my life." She said, her voice a hushed whisper.
Galen smiled and gently wrapped his muscular arm around his wife's shoulders, snuggling as closely as possible to her. "Don't worry, Honey. Even if all we end up sharing here is a bed, a couple of pillows and a few quilts; as long as we have each other, that'll always be more'n enough for me." He whispered into her ear.
"Promise?" She purred.
"On my honor as a soldier, lover and husband." He said.
"Not in that order I hope." She said with a school-girlish giggle.
"In any order you wish!" He said.
She took his paw and playfully pulled him from the couch and, after giving him a hug, began leading him to their bedroom. "C'mere lover! Let's see how good you are at keeping your promises!"
Chapter Forty-Three
Justin's return was a joyous and, on Mrs. Brisbee's part, tearful occasion. After the celebratory meal, Stabb told him of the events leading to his own, Will's, Heather's and LadyKluck's desire to fight Jenner's stranglehold on Britain. Justin told them of his plans to use the Locksley Estate as his headquarters from which to oppose Jenner's tyranny.
That night, after all the others had gone to bed, Justin and Mrs. Brisbee shared a pot of tea in their room.
"I'm sorry I left without telling you." He said. "But I knew that if I had, you would have insisted on coming with me and I simply couldn't stand the thought of you in danger."
"And we're not in danger NOW?" She asked, her voice a mixture of skepticism tinged with anger. "Jenner's been telling all of Britain that Dr. Ages and I are part of a plot to kill him! So far no one seems to have taken this propaganda seriously, but who's to say that sometime inthe future someone, somewhere won't decide that they need a few thousand crowns of extra spending money and turn us over, along with this," She fingered the chain of the Amulet, which hung around her neck. "To a King who wouldn't give a second thought to doing to me and my children what he did to my husband, their father," She pointed an accusing finger at him. "Your brother!"
Justin nodded sadly. "You're right to be angry with me, I suppose. I've been so absorbed in my own obsession with my past that I've neglected the problems of the here-and-now." He said.
Mrs. Brisbee took Justin's paws in her own and held them, feeling their warmth. "Make no mistake, Justin Locksley, I still love you!" She declared. "And I want, more than anything, to help you make Jenner pay for Jonathan's murder; but I also want to know that you'll still be around when all this is over with and not out chasing every silly little rumor that you might feel is connected to your past!"
Justin bowed his head. "I understand, Marian. I know that my past, no matter how much I might want it to be different, can't be relived or changed." He said. He lifted his eyes to meet Mrs. Brisbee's. "Now I'm setting my eyes and mind to a time in the future when we and the animals of Britain can live without having to fear our own shadows. Do you remember what I told you when we were on the road out of Londontown the morning after Jonathan and King Nicodemus were killed?"
Mrs. Brisbee's eyes welled with tears as she thought back to that terrible moment in the first light of dawn. "You said that I held the future of Britain in my hands..."
"And?" He prodded gently.
"You told me that Jonathan's love for me wasn't misplaced."
"And?" He asked again, his voice more persistent."
"If I kept my chin up, all would turn out well."
"And I still firmly believe that to this very day." He stated. "But you've got to believe it too. The animals of Britain need to know that there're those of us who are willing to stand up to Jenner's reign of terror. I'm willing to lead the fight but I need a strong pillar of support and a symbol of what this fight is about." Justin gently cupped a paw under Mrs. Brisbee's chin so that their eyes met. "I need for you to tell Britain our side of the story; how Jenner and his friends conspired to murder King Nicodemus and Jonathan in order to enrich themselves and enslave the rest of us. If Jenner is going to use lies to seduce or terror to instill fear, then we need to use the truth to strip away those falsehoods; otherwise, Jenner WILL win and wemay as well admit defeat before we even try to fight the battle."
Mrs. Brisbee pulled away from Justin, tears streaming from her eyes. "Is that all I am to you too?" She sobbed angrily, "A propaganda tool? A peg to hang this damned Amulet on while you rush off to battle for Hearts and Minds?"
"N-No, Marian! I..." Justin stammered, utterly surprised by the vehemence of her anger.
"You tell me to keep my chin up!" She cried, "But that's pretty hard to do when I'm spending my nights worrying about whether or not my children will spend the rest of their days either on the run as fugitives from the Crown or, worse, rotting in some dungeon awaiting execution for treason!" Mrs. Brisbee wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of her paw like a small child and continued. "Dr. Ages told me that he has no fear of what Jenner could do to him if he were ever captured and I suppose I can understand that. After all, the better part of his life is behind him. Unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of being able to have THAT outlook! I have children who depend on me for their survival now that Jonathan is gone!"
"You're right, Marian." Justin said. "I've spent most of my life as a soldier. I know what responsibility that entails when it comes to leading a Troop of other soldiers into battle. But when it comes down to it, my comrades and I; as soldiers; can at least fight on something like equal terms with whatever enemy we might be ordered to face. Your children, on the other paw, depend on you utterly and completely for their very lives. I guess I forgot that little detail in my rush to take on Jenner." He bowed his head, his ears drooping sadly. "You're also right about my trying to use you as a propaganda tool." He said ruefully. "Yes, the animals of Britain DO need a symbol to rally around; someone or something to personify the cause that they're fighting for; but if I make you become nothing more than an object, the peg on which to hang the Amulet or our cause, then yes, you're absolutely right, and we all might just as well let Jenner keep both the Crown and Amulet because I'll have become just like him."
Mrs. Brisbee put a consoling arm around Justin's shoulder. "Then you see what I mean? All I ask is that I be allowed to make the children my first priority in any decisions having to do with our fight against Jenner; and that I not become some battle-standard to be paraded around whenever the troops need a morale boost. I'm a thinking, feeling mother of four who is willing to do whatever she can to help; but I've got to be allowed to do it on my own terms."
Justin nodded. "Yes, Marian," He said, "I see what you mean and understand completely. It wasn't your choice for your husband to be murdered and for you and your children to be dragged from your home in the middle of the night. I know what it's like to be uprooted; not having any say in events over which you have no control. Unfortunately, Jenner pretty much has control over our lives and actions at the moment, even if indirectly. That's why I need for you to come with me to my father's Estate; so I know that you and the children will be safe from his reach."
Mrs. Brisbee sighed. Her family had been forcibly relocated twice in one year. The effects on her; the sleeplessness, the nightmares even when she was sleeping, the dark circles under her eyes that marred her once radiantly beautiful face; were bad enough. But she was, in the end, willing to sacrifice everything; including her health and, if it REALLY came down to it, her life; for the sake of Theresa, Martin, Cynthia and Timothy. But what about the effects of this whole debacle on them? Theresa and Martin seemed to be holding up well enough, although they were probably far behind on their school lessons because Jeremy; while a fine and patient young soul, bless him; was nearly illiterate; not that this was any disadvantage to a bard, whose traditions were oral anyway; and she was always, so it seemed, far too busy with the housework to continue their lessons. She resolved then and there to change THAT particular state of affairs. Maybe Lady Kluck would be willing to act as a teacher until some kind of school could be set up at the Estate. She would, if she could be persuaded to accept, be more than equal to the task of tutoring the children; after all, Cynthia and Timothy were also at about the age when they too should begin school. And poor Cynthia. More and more she had taken to sleeping under her bed; so often, in fact, that Mrs. Brisbee was on the verge of simply moving the little rabbit's mattress there so that she wouldn't have to sleep on the cold, hard wooden floor. And even at that, she was beginning to have nightmares with a frequency that was beginning to equal her younger brother; although none of these seemed to be prophetic, just frightening. And Timothy wasn't doing much better. She had talked to Dr. Ages about the possibility, much as the thought pained her, of drugging him before bed each night so that he would be able to get at least SOME kind of decent sleep each night. But Ages had discouraged this particular notion, telling her that he was afraid that a dose adequate to put her son into a deep enough sleep each night might, by necessity, be toxic to his small body as well. And the thought of the coming Winter loomed in her mind as well. She remembered those long sad nights of the previous Winter when she and Jonathan had tended to him when he was fighting for his life against pneumonia, even after the Royal Physician had all but given up. Somehow, by some miracle of strength or will, Timothy had survived the ordeal. But if Timothy or any of his siblings were to again come down with a serious illness, ANY illness, even Dr. Ages would be hard-pressed to deal with such a situation. At least at the Estate a harsh Winter, while difficult, would be less likely to escalate into a life-threatening crisis. "Alright, Justin," She said. "I know that this will probably place a strain on them, but tomorrow we'll move out of here and over to your father's estate. But we also need to talk about setting up some sort of school for them."
Justin's face brightened up a bit. "Don't worry, Marian." He said. "I'm sure my sister, Linney, will more than welcome the idea of a school."
Mrs. Brisbee gave Justin a hug and kiss goodnight and they slipped under the covers of theirbeds. After she blew out the candle, she waited for her eyes to accustom themselves to the dark. Ever so slowly, the darkness and shadows resolved themselves to a reassuringly lumpy contour as she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Forty-Four
Sullivan was both awed and dismayed by the eerie silence that greeted him and his Deputies on this cold, gloomy Autumn morning. During the week that had elapsed from Brutus's resignation the residents of the town for which Nottinghamshire was named had almost completely abandoned it.
"Almost everyone's gone, Sheriff." His Deputy-in-Charge; a ferret that the others called "Blackjack" because of his nearly jet black fur and tough, no-nonsense demeanor; said, flipping through a sheaf of notes. "The only ones left are a few of the larger local landholders who're exempted from the Repossession Decree."
"And are, therefore, loyal to His Majesty." Sullivan grunted, completing Blackjack's thought.
"I guess." The ferret shrugged. "They all wanna know what you plan to do about bringin' 'em back." He stated.
Sullivan pounded an angry fist on the desk that he sat at. "Damned idiots!" He exclaimed. "How the hell can I bring 'em back when I have no idea where they've gone!"
Just then, the door to the office flew open and in stomped another Deputy, a lynx, who was trailing a rope and half-pulling, half-dragging along a hare, who was tied at the neck and wrists. "Deputy Sillus reporting, Sir!" The cat said with the slight hiss-like lisp common to his species. "I caught THIS," He wrinkled his nose disdainfully. "spying on us from the woods at the edge of town." The hare was probably no older than his late teens and his fur and clothing were torn and mud- and blood-stained from numerous small cuts on his face, shoulders and upper chest along with a good-sized lump over his right eye. Sillus had not escaped from the ravages of whatever fracas he and his opponent had engaged in either. His clothing was equally splattered and rent and a small chunk of flayed skin hung from the underside of one of his ears, a small rivulet of blood still flowing down into the matted, clotting fur below.
Sullivan frowned. "What's your name, son?" He asked.
"I'll not tell you!" The hare spat defiantly. "You're not MY father!"
The lynx gave a sharp tug to the rope causing his captive to wince in pain. "You'll answer the Sheriff if ya know what's good fer ya!"
"Deputy. Why don't you go and get yourself tended to." Sullivan said, his voice gentle but leaving no room for misinterpretation. The cat opened his mouth to argue, but the angry glare from Blackjack made him think better of his words. Sillus quickly turned and stalked out of the office, exchanging a hateful glare of his own with the prisoner.
Sullivan then turned his attention to the prisoner. "Cut the boy loose, Deputy." He ordered. Blackjack drew his dagger, which elicited a flicker of nervousness from the hare's eyes but whose expression was otherwise one of sullen anger. "Now, what's your name?" He asked again.
"Why should I tell you anythin'?" The hare growled.
Sullivan shrugged. "Well, unless you'd prefer that I call you 'boy' all the time. But I'd rather be able to call you by name. Mine's Sullivan."
The hare looked skeptically at both the wolf and the ferret. He was in REAL deep trouble now. When his father had come home that night a week ago and told them about the mass resignation of the entire law enforcement contingent of the Shire, he'd pleaded with his father to be allowed to join the new army that King Nicodemus's former Captain-of-the-Guard was trying to form to fight King Jenner's tyrannical rule. But his father had scotched that idea, telling him that "this is a war, son. There's gonna be plenty of killin', mark my words, an' I'll be dependin' on you to look after your mother, sisters an' brothers if I'm sent tomeet the spirits." But those words had not mollified him. Instead, he'd taken the first opportunity while the rest of the family was moving to the Locksley Estate to slip away and try to get a close-up look at their would-be oppressors. Unfortunately, he apparently hadn't hidden himself quite as well as he'd believed because the lynx had come out of nowhere and proceeded to thrash him and scratch at him. Sure, he'd gotten a few good licks of his own in; the cat would have scars of its own to prove that; but in the end the older and stronger animal had prevailed and soon had him subdued. He finally decided to swallow his pride and hoped that his father would forgive him for this small act of concession to the enemy. "My name's Declan Wyclyffe." He mumbled, spelling out the name and emphasizing the two "Y"sout of years of habit.
Sullivan nodded impassively and said, "Nice to meet you, Declan. I'm sorry about your run-in with the Deputy. He's young and a bit too eager to impress. I'll speak to him at some point."
Declan narrowed his eyes. "I know what you're tryin' to do!" He said, a measure of desperation in his voice. "You're tryin' to get me to tell you where the others are! Well I won't tell you even if you try to torture it out of me!"
Sullivan exchanged a look with Blackjack; who shrugged and gave Sullivan a confused lookof his own. "I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. My job here is simply to replace the Sheriff and the Deputies who resigned last week. That's all. I have no interest inwhere anyone went. I assumed that Dthey were all at harvest." He said.
Declan eyed the new Sheriff suspiciously. Any idiot should have known that all of the harvests were completed.
Sullivan sighed. Obviously this kid was no bumpkin. While Sullivan would've given one of his canine-teeth to know where the town's inhabitants had run off to, he decided that even torture, for the moment at least, was simply too extreme a measure and would only do more harm than good. "Deputy." He said; reaching for a pen, ink and paper.
"Sir?" Blackjack answered.
Sullivan scratched out something, folded the paper and handed it to the hare. "Take our young guest to the hospital to have his injuries treated, then take him into the forest and release him. Anyone who tries to stop him will answer to me." To Declan he said, "Take this note to whoever's leading the townsfolk."
Declan frowned, but finally nodded.
"Good lad." Sullivan said, and sent them on their way.
A while later, Blackjack returned and reported to him. "The boy's on his way, sir."
Sullivan nodded pensively.
"Sir, shouldn't we have sent someone to follow him?" The ferret asked.
Sullivan shook his head emphatically. "No, Deputy. We'll find out soon enough what's going on. Until then, we've gotta get ourselves organized here. When the townsfolk left, they seem to have taken every last bushel of their food with 'em so I'm gonna have to get Jenner to send some our way or we'll all be diggin' for roots by next week."
Chapter Forty-Five
What a madhouse! Until last night Locksley Manor had been virtually empty; except for himself, Linney and a few other families who had finished their harvests a bit early. But today at least a hundred families had shown up, all clammoring to be allowed under the protective wing of the Locksley name. Fortunately Galen Talbot, late of H.M. 9th Foot Brigade, was up to the task of sorting through the chaos that surrounded him. It would be at least another week before the breach in the kitchen wall was completely repaired because finding stones to replace those that were missing was taking longer than anticipated so nights in the manor-house would be breath-foggingly cold for a while yet, not that it really mattered; he, Linney and all the other animals were growing their thick, almost shaggy, Winter coats. By day, the cleanup of the interior was proceeding apace as the walls were stripped of the accumulated mold and covered with bolts of canvas until the day arrived when the exquisite murals could be restored to their former glory. A number of families, contrary to the former Sheriff's recommendation, had brought their furniture and Galen, as Justin's paw-picked representative, had laid down the law: Any "nonessential" furniture (i.e. bric-a-brac shelves) was either to be returned or used as firewood, and "essential" furniture (such as beds, tables and chairs or benches) would become property of the Estate until the original owners were able to return home after Jenner was overthrown; provided, of course, that they could produce the receipt that Galen had written out for them.
Not all families were opting to stay in the manor-house itself. A large tent-city was springing up around the edifice and a number of businesses including both a black-and coopersmith and a woodwright were providing for this impromptu village. Galen had placed the former Sheriff in charge of bringing some sort of order to the layout and resolving disputes among animals who might vie for a "favored" spot. This Brutus did with a flair and almost military precision that amazed the former Army Colonel. With several former Deputies, he carefully surveyed and divided lots among various families, assigning them as fairly as possible under the circumstances.
By Midday most of the major problems were being ironed out and both Galen and Brutus took a respite in the small office that Galen had set up in a small block of rooms that were assigned to become Justin and the Brisbee's living-quarters. Over bowls of hot mushroom and barley soup, prepared by Linney and the other wives, Galen said, "I really have to thank you for all you're help today, Sheriff."
Brutus smiled happily and shrugged. "'Twer'n't nuthun'. These folk know that Justin has theirbest interests in mind and, while there's always gonna be the potential for friction among them, I think they're also beginning to realize that he can't do it all alone and that he needs all the support and cooperation that we can give him." He said.
Galen nodded thoughtfully. "Unfortunately, this brings up something that I wish I could avoid,but really can't." He said.
"Oh?" Brutus asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes." Galen answered, pulling his chair closer to Brutus's "I'd like for you to take over as Justin's second-in-command when he gets back." Brutus was about to say something, but Galen raised a paw to silence him. "I know. Justin chose me and I'm sure he had some very good reasons. But over the past several days I've come to the conclusion that, while our cause is important, so too is the commitment that I made to Linney when I fell hopelessly and passionately in love with her. I'm more than willing to serve in an advisory capacity, but I'm afraid that my main priority is looking to the comfort and safety of my wife. I hope you'll understand." He explained.
Again, Brutus smiled. "Of course." He said. "When he gets back I'll talk to your brother about taking over day-to-day operations. We should probably also see about having some sort of "town meeting", as it were, to elect or appoint some sort of council or other governing body so that we can bettersee to everyone's needs."
Galen nodded his assent. Just then, one of Brutus's former Deputies and his wife appeared at the door. She was quietly sobbing into her apron and his face was contorted in both anger and worry.
"Liam, Mrs. Wyclyffe. What's wrong?" Brutus asked.
"It's Declan, our second oldest; he's disappeared." Liam said quietly, obviously just barely in control of his temper.
"He-He was...helping us...with our move." Mrs. Wycliffe stated between sobs. "Bu-But we...we lost track of him sometime this morning."
"Alright, Deputy, you know the drill." Brutus said calmly, lifting himself from his chair. "Have everyone drop what they're doing and gather just outside the entrance to the manor-house so we can pick the search teams." He turned to Galen and said, "We've had to search the forest for lost kids before so we set up a special procedure." The bear then led them out of the office, grabbing his ever-present quarterstaff, and took them to the top landing of the Grand Staircase. He then rapped the 'staff on the sturdy wooden floor and called for everyone's attention, the two sounds echoing and reverberating like thunder through the immense structure. He then ordered everyone outside as quickly as possible.
A few minutes later, all of the animals were gathered outside of Locksley Manor as Brutus explained the situation. He was about to pick search teams when he saw a familiar figure, pulling a hand-cart and followed by several other animals, emerging from one of the forest paths. Mrs. Wyclyffe shouted her joy as her son climbed wearily down from the cart and ran to him and gave him a loving hug. Liam strode over and quickly examined his son's bandaged wounds and said sharply, "I don't know whether to hug you or put you over my knee!" The little anger that was left on his face then faded to a relieved smile. "But since someone else has obviously dispensed your punishment, I guess I'd better give you a dose of comfort." And he too hugged his son.
By now the crowd was gathered around Justin and the strangers who accompanied him. In all the clamor, no one noticed the black rooster who was surreptitiously making his way toward the former Sheriff. The bird then approached the bear from behind, tapped a wing on his massive back and then drew it back.
Brutus felt someone tapping him on his back. When he turned around to see who it was, he found himself nose-to-beak with a young rooster wearing a dark poncho-like tunic with a cross-bow slung across his back and over one shoulder and a quiver of bolts hanging from his belt. "Yes?" He asked. This was all that he had time to say before his world suddenly went black.
Brutus had no idea how long he'd been laying in the grass when his eyes finally opened. Overhead a pair of young children, both rabbits, were on their haunches looking down at him. One, a female with a crudely made doll, asked the other, a male with eyes both sad and wise beyond his years, "D'ya think he's asleep?"
"No, Cynthia." The male answered. "His eyes are open now."
Cynthia took a closer look and her eyes widened with curiosity. "Are you alright, Mister Bear?" She asked.
A small crowd was now gathering around them and a ferret and a weasel had to jostle their way through them to reach Brutus.
"Let us through! Let us through!" The ferret ordered. The two rabbits made room for the two newcomers, but stayed by the bear's side.
"Brutus, are you awake?" The ferret asked, his voice heavy with concern.
Brutus shook his head and blinked when he heard the familiar voice. "I think so." He groaned weakly. "What happened?"
"Do you remember a rooster we tossed into a mudpit last Summer?" The weasel asked.
Brutus closed his eyes and dredged his memories. Hadn't he heard something about that solong ago? He opened his eyes again. "Vaguely." He mumbled.
"Well, your past just caught up with you. That was him." The weasel said.
Brutus lifted his head. A short distance away, the rooster stood rubbing the circulation back into his wing and staring impassively at him.
"D'you want we should take him into custody?" The weasel asked.
Brutus lifted himself to a sitting position and felt a tug on his cloak. It was the little girl-rabbit, Cynthia.
"You're not gonna 'rest Jeremy are you, Mister Bear?" She asked, her eyes welling with tears. "He's jus' mad because the King burned 'im when he tried to help Timothy after he set Doctor Ages house on fire!"
Brutus bowed his head. Justin had told him about Sullivan's; and by extent, Jenner's; attempt to kill Justin, Dr. Ages and the Brisbee family. And now here he was face-to-face with one of the intended victims of that horrific crime, an innocent child whose only crime was being adopted by the King's Chancellor. Brutus could feel tears of his own, tears of guilt, misting his eyes. He gently put a brawny arm around the child and drew her closer. "Don't worry, little one. I understand. No one will touch your friend." He assured her. He then raised his voice a bit. "Right boys?" He asked sternly.
The ferret and weasel looked at each other, not quite sure what to make of Brutus's suddenlyodd behavior. "Uh, sure, Boss!" The ferret answered nervously.
Brutus tnen got to his feet and dismissed them. The children were awe-struck by his size. "And what's your name, son?" He asked the boy-rabbit.
"That's Timothy! He's my little brother!" Cynthia exclaimed happily. "I'm Cynthia! Cynthia Brisbee! That ferret called you 'Brutus'. Is that really your name?"
Brutus nodded. "That's what my former Deputies call me when I'm off-duty, little one. But you can still call me 'Mister Bear' if you like."
Cynthia nodded back.
Sensing that this was a good time to leave, Timothy grabbed his sister's paw and began to lead her toward the manor-house, where Justin was heading with the hand-cart. "C'mon, Cynthia!" He exclaimed. "Let's go an' look at our new home!"
Cynthia waved a reluctant and affectionate goodbye to Brutus. "G'bye Mister Bear!" She cried.
Brutus felt a tear roll down the fur of his cheek as he returned her wave. "Good-bye little one." He said in a choked whisper, now understanding completely why he had been willing to give up so much to fight for Justin's cause.
A short while later, after he had put the hand-cart away and settled the Brisbees, Jeremy, Dr. Ages and the others into their quarters, Justin gathered Galen, Brutus, Ages and Stabb into the office that Galen had prepared for him. Galen apprised Justin of his wish to be relieved of second-in-command status for the sake of his wife's needs and instead offered his services as an advisor on military and training matters. Justin reluctantly agreed to his brother's request andhanded the job to Brutus. (Stabb had offered his services at their first meal together at Justin's adoptive home and the fox had happily accepted.) They also suggested that a "town meeting" be held to elect representatives for the various interests of the quickly-growing community. Justin readily agreed to this proposal and added that he would also put the issue of his leadership of the effort to dethrone Jenner up for a referendum as well. "After all," He pointed out, "It would be foolish for them to try toppling one tyrant while following another."
They then turned their attention to the letter that Declan had given him. Justin and his travelling companions had found the young hare sitting on a rock and crying by the side of the road. After some gentle persuasion he had told them of his capture and release by the new Sheriff that morning and of his fear of his expected punishment at the paws of his father.Justin had told him that, while disobedience toward one's parents WAS a serious affair, he was relatively unharmed and his father would no doubt be too relieved that his son was all right to dispense anything too painful. This seemed to calm the hare, who introduced himself. When Justin had introduced himself and his companions, an astonished Declan had dug the note that the new Sheriff had given him out of a pocket of his badly ripped tunic.
At first, Justin had been more than a little surprised and angry when he'd found out that his former colleague was Nottinghamshire's new chief law enforcement official; noting dirisively that a conspirator to murder and arson could hardly be expected to competently, let alone fairly, administer anything even remotely resembling justice. Dr. Ages, ever the practical soul, pointed out that sooner or later Sullivan's lack of competence would probably make Justin's job just that much easier. Justin found this a dubious assumption, but decided not to argue the point.
He read the letter aloud:
"To the townfolk of Nottingham,
By order of His Majesty, King Jenner, I have been duly appointed and sworn to the Office of Sheriff of this Shire. I wish to reassure everyone that if you return immediately to your homes you will be made welcome and not harmed or disturbed in any way."
("Okay, that's the carrot."Justin thought to himself. "Now, Sullivan, where's your inevitable stick?")
"Failure to return to your homes will result in a declaration of "Abandonment of Property". Such a declaration will result in confiscation of all lands and properties thereon. Please send a representative to negotiate at your earliest convenience."
"Who does he think he's kidding?" Justin exploded, shaking his head in amazement and anger. "Any comments?" He asked once he'd calmed himself down enough to speak.
"Bloody arrogant if you ask me!" Brutus exclaimed angrily. "That implied threat of confiscation is as empty as his head! Jenner's already made it clear that he plans to seize everyone's property!"
The others nodded their assent.
"The 'negotiation' angle is an interesting touch." Stabb said. "In the little time I spent under him, Captain Sullivan never struck me as the negotiating type."
"He isn't!" Justin stated, his voice firm. "He doesn't have Jenner's subtleties when it comes to manipulations and machinations, so I can pretty much guarantee that anyone we might send to him will end up on a one-way trip to the gallows as an example to the rest of us!"
Again the others nodded.
"So we ignore the note?" Galen asked.
"That would be a mistake." Ages said.
"Oh?" Asked Justin. "In what way?"
Ages motioned for the others to follow him as he limped out of the cramped office and into the main hall. A dull roar of activity surrounded them as families and individuals went about various tasks. "During the time that we're fighting this war, because you all know that that's EXACTLY what this is, none of you must ever forget that this," He swept his paw around the room, "Is what we're fighting for. These animals are here because they've placed their trust AND their lives in our paws and we owe them nothing less than our own blood and possibly our lives to see that they don't end up as slaves in their own land."
"We know this already!" Justin said.
"Do you?" Ages asked, skepticism dripping from his voice. "Are you so sure of your cause that you're willing to throw away an option outright simply because of your anger at the one who has proposed it? I don't dispute that Sullivan isn't to be trusted. But in addition to what I mentioned before, we owe these animals the opportunity to make their own decisions about the course of their lives; something which, I would remind you, Jenner is quite happy to deny them."
Justin conceded the logic of Ages observation. "But how do we meet him without endangering our own safety?" He asked.
"We could call a 'truce and parley'." Galen suggested. "He and a few of his Deputies meet with some of us at a place of our choosing."
Stabb chuckled dirisively. "You are a hopeless optimist, aren't you?" He asked. Then, in all seriousness he said, "Our backs are pretty much against a wall no matter what we do. Given a choice; my gut tells me that the less contact we have with the Sheriff, the better. But we DO need to find out as much as we can about his plans." To Justin he said, "Let me go an' talk to him. If anything bad happens, we can chalk it up to experience and make a more cautious play the next time around."
Justin shook his head. "No way am I gonna send you or anyone else on any suicide missions." He said sternly. "We may have to take a lot of risks in this endeavor but needless, empty sacrifice is out of the question!" Justin turned angrily away and walked back to his office.
"Okay! Okay! Maybe that's not one of my better ideas!" Stabb said as he followed the others, a touch of embarrassment in his voice.
Justin reseated himself and began to rub at his tired eyes. "Don't worry, Mr.Stabb. I'm not angry at you; at least not specifically." He said wearily. "I'm angry that I have so little control over this situation and so few options for rectifying it. Your offer simply served to remind me of that. If you feel that you can talk to Sullivan, then put together some sort of workable plan and have it ready to present to me after the meeting tomorrow." To Galen, Brutus and Ages he said, "Spread the word to everyone who's come to join me that we're going to have the 'town meeting' that you've suggested starting mid-morning to discuss both the exact nature and the future of this...this..."
"War." Dr. Ages stated flatly.
Justin nodded reluctantly. "I suppose I've been loathe to admit to myself that that's what this has come down to; But the good Doctor is right. We're at war."
Elsewhere in the manor-house, Mrs. Brisbee knocked at the door of Galen and Linnette Talbot's rooms.
"Come in." Linnette called.
Mrs. Brisbee opened the door and stepped in. "Mrs. Talbot?" She asked.
"Yes. And you must be Mrs. Brisbee." The older vixen said, a smile coming to her face. "Justin's told us so much about you and your late husband. Would you like to sit down?" She indicated a spot on the couch next to where she herself sat.
"Yes, thank you." Mrs. Brisbee said softly, trying to hide the nervousness in her voice. Justin had given her specific instructions that his sister was to be treated like anyone else and not some fragile flower that might wilt at the merest touch. She took a seat next to Justin's adoptive sister and decided to break the bad news as gently and diplomatically as possible and hope for the best. "I realize that it's not my place to come in here and..." She began.
"You're more than welcome to run the manor-house." Linnette said reassuringly. "I had no problem doing so when there were only a few families to watch over, so to speak, but now I must admit that the job has gone somewhat beyond my capabilities. And after all, who better than a trained professional to take over where this amateur left off?" She explained.
Mrs. Brisbee, somewhat nonplused by Justin's sister's concession, said, "Are you sure? The last thing I want to do is make you feel unwelcome in your own home."
Linnette smiled again, but Mrs. Brisbee thought that she could detect a certain sadness in the other vixen's unseeing eyes. "Yes, Mrs. Brisbee, I'm quite sure. This manor-house is only a temporary residence until Jenner is overthrown and Galen and I are free to move back to our cottage on the Heath." She said.
Mrs. Brisbee nodded and took one of Linnette's paws into her own. "Thank you, Mrs. Talbot." She said in a half-whisper. "I'm sure that you'll be able to go back to your home soon." Her voice then returned to normal volume. "In the meantime I happen to have a position open for an experienced Assistant Household Administrator, if you're interested."
Linnette's face brightened. "Okay, but only if we can drop all that 'Mrs.' stuff. It's WAY too formal for my tastes. Call me 'Linney'!"She exclaimed.
Mrs. Brisbee giggled. "You're right, it is." She said. "My name is Marian."
A few minutes later, as they were discussing plans for how best to run the manor-house, Justin and Galen passed by the door to the Talbot's rooms and stopped for a moment to listen to the school-girlish chatter and laughter audible from the other side.
"Sounds like Linney and Marian have worked things out amicably enough." Justin said, a hint of relief in his voice.
Galen smiled and nodded. "See? I could've told you they'd make a great pair." He stated confidently.
Justin returned the smile with one of his own. "If those two can keep this house running smoothly," He declared. "We should have no problems winning this thing."
Unfortunately, Justin couldn't have known just how wrong he would be.
Chapter Forty-Six
King Jenner made it a point to rise before dawn no matter how late he'd stayed up the night before. Today this was more important than ever. Jenner was expecting some very important guests. Normally he wouldn't have given a whit about the aesthetics of a sunrise; but today he was glad that, even though the pre-dawn mid-Autumn air was still quite crisp, the few high cirrus clouds still in the sky didn't obscure the few stars still flickering.
From his vantage point on the castle's perimeter overlook Jenner had a commanding view of the City of Londontown, a place he utterly despised. He'd always seen cities, towns, and villages as an utter waste of land and material. In his considered opinion; and he WAS the King after all, thus the only opinion that REALLY mattered; the animals of Britain could serve him and his friends best by tilling, tending and harvesting the land in the Spring, Summer and Autumn to keep them well fed and digging for coal in the Winter to keep them warm. If a few peasants starved or froze to death because the Winter got to be a bit too harsh; well, so be it. Didn't peasants, after all, have a tendency to breed (how did the old saying go?) like rabbits? Jenner shrugged to himself. Such was not his concern, he decided smugly. Sympathy wasº for the weak. His main interest was Power.
The oddest; and, admittedly, most frustrating; thing about Power, he'd discovered in his youth, was that it was so easy to GET (if one knew how and was willing enough to use that knowledge and, if necessary, a bit of dirty tricksterism to get it) but so hard to KEEP unless one was willing to USE copious amounts of it (along with its "kissin' cousin", Money) to keep it. This apparent dichotomy inside of a contradiction had puzzled him to no end for years until he eventually gave up trying to figure out the "why" of it and had begun concentrating on its more practical, not to mention rewarding, aspects.
His reverie was interrupted by the sight of a line of lanterns approaching from one of the cobblestone streets that radiated from the castle. He hurried into the building and through various dark passageways (by his strict orders candles were carefully rationed; they did, after all, cost money!) and down a flight of stairs and out a door to the courtyard. He slowed his fast walk to a more dignified stroll. Waiting for him at the castle entrance was the Troop of his Guard that he'd ordered turned out for this momentous occasion. Jenner nodded to the Captain-of-the-Guard; a tough, battle-scarred lynx named Sykes; who in turn nodded to the Gate-keeper, who shouted an order into a window of the turret that towered above them. With a creak of rusted iron on ancient stone, the portcullis began to rise from the grooves cut for the razor-sharp strips that the structure was constructed out of.
When the formidable-looking gate was completely open, the lamps and those who held them resumed their stately march; even if for only the distance that would bring them safely inside.
Once inside, the marchers halted and placed their lamps on the brown, Autumn-wilted grass. Also lowered was a very large, very ornate sedan-chair which was being toted by eight almost equally large and very rare; on these temperate shores at least; rhinoceri.
Jenner walked to the curtained entrance and waited for its occupant with a wide, proud, anticipative smile.
Within moments, the heavy gold-broccaded velvet drapes parted and a large be-ringed hoof presented itself.
Jenner delicately took the hoof and helped its owner (strictly ceremoniously, of course; the body to which the limb was attached weighed in excess of four-hundred-stone!) out of the conveyance.
When the former occupant alighted (so to speak) onto the ground; planting the tip of a thick, jewel-studded cane into the cold earth; Jenner knelt before the grossly obese figure and kissed the back of its still-outstretched hoof. (This display elicited a number of startled looks and whispered comments from the ranks of the Guards, but a harsh glance from Captain Sykes brought them back to attention and silence.)
"Grandmaster." Jenner said in a half-reverent, half-excited near-whisper.
"Majesty." The hooded figure wheezed. To the casual listener the tone of voice would probably have sounded pleasant, even benevolent; but had he or she been able to see into the eyes of the speaker, he (or she) would have sworn that they had just looked into the deepest, most wretched pits of Hell.
Jenner stood and motioned the guest toward the courtyard entrance to the castle.
The hooded figure nodded slightly and the two slowly began walking, the Guards and the guest's coterie maintaining a discreet distance.
"Grandmaster," Jenner began, "Mere words cannot convey to you how honored I am by your presence." He stated, his voice still reverent as if he were talking to the spirits themselves.
"Nor mine by yours." The ancient boar grunted. With his free hoof he slid the hood of his robe off of his bald head. He wore a robe of the finest velvet; the surface of which shimmered in the light of the stars, which were already beginning to dim from the light of the soon-to-rise sun.
Jenner bowed his head and smiled. "We have much to discuss." The lion stated, trying to keep his excitement to a reasonable level.
"Indeed we do, my young acolyte, indeed we do. But first I'm afraid I must bring a certain matter to your attention." The boar said.
"You have but to ask." Jenner replied.
"You are aware, are you not, that a certain segment of the population has made, shall we say, profound objections to the recent issuance of a certain royal decree?" The Grandmaster asked.
"Yes, yes," Jenner sighed. "But you and I anticipated such a reaction when we began planning this whole sordid affair." He said. "So far, all has gone exactly according to plan."
The boar flicked his eyes in Jenner's direction, his expression hardening and his brow wrinkling slightly. "Then you are also aware that a group of, shall we say, dissenters has taken refuge in the Shire of Nottingham with the express purpose of opposing this reform and deposing you from your rightful place on the Throne of Britain?" The Grandmaster asked; a small, venomous anger creeping into his voice.
If Jenner had noticed this anger, he didn't show it; in fact, he smiled sardonically and waved a dismissive, be-ringed paw. "Yes, yes. I got a report of a rumor to that effect last night from my new Sheriff. If there's anything to it I have the utmost confidence that he'll deal with the problem with all due speed and ruthlessness." He stated confidently.
"Good." The boar replied with rather-too-much emphasis. "I have many plans, as I'm quite sure you do, that depend on a, shall we say, tranquil population in order to work. I'd hate to have those plans delayed or, worse yet, spoiled simply because some peasant rabble was unwilling to make the necessary sacrifices to the Glory of their King."
Jenner nodded his agreement. "You needn't be concerned, Grandmaster." The lion reassured him. "As I said; the problem, if it exists at all, will be dealt with in the fastest and harshest terms."
A smile crept to the Grandmaster's pale lips. "Excellent!" He half-sneered. "Now," He said as they entered the castle proper, "How long until breakfast? Plotting the destruction of others tends to, shall we say, enhance my appetite."
Jenner, well aware of the Grandmaster's appetites; both for food and for zero-sum gamesmanship; bowed and with a sweep of his paw indicated the way to the royal dining room.
A little more than an hour later, as the Sun began to cast the full light of a new day on a troubled land, Jenner rapped a gavel on the table around which he and several other animals were seated. All were well known to him. Aside from the Grandmaster of the Mercantile Guilds who was still delicately (the others at the table would have said "effeminately") wiping the remains of his not insubstantial morning meal from his lips, were also seated the Masters of several of the other important, at least for Jenner's purposes, Guilds and several of the more ambitious or corrupt Sheriffs that he'd been able to seduce with promises of unlimited wealth and power. One of the chairs, however, was conspicuous by its emptiness. "I now call this meeting to order." He announced. "I will remind everyone that, due to the nature of the topics that we'll be discussing, no minutes will be read and the taking of notes is strictly forbidden." Most of the other animals smiled at this; Jenner's Number 1 rule of Criminal activity was: "LEAVE NO EVIDENCE!"
One by one, the various animals stood and gave summaries of their efforts to enrich themselves and their king.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Justin stared through the small breathing hole that he'd burrowed with his nose and muzzle through the many layers of blankets that held him in their warm embrace. Galen had not been kidding when he'd warned him and Marian that, as long as the hole in the kitchen remained unrepaired, the whole manor-house would be impossible to keep warm during the gradually worsening nights. Even with Marian next to him, it had been an uncomfortably cold while before he'd been able to drift off to sleep.
Only moments ago, he'd struggled up from the depths of his own fatigue of the past several days. Marian had, reluctantly of course, related the events that had occurred after he'd left to find this place. Of all of them, he'd been most concerned about her inability to get an adequate night's sleep. Bad enough that Timothy was still having the occasional nightmare (although his "waking dreams" seem to have ended when Stabb, Heather, Will and Lady Kluck arrived; whether this would last, no one was prepared to say) but poor, dear little Cynthia wasn't doing much better either. They'd tried to place her in the common nursery that Linnette had organized, but she'd raised quite a fuss (Justin could think of at least one choice word that would have better described the tantrum) screaming for her "Mister Bear". It took quite a while before anyone could figure out that it was not a doll that she wanted, but the former Sheriff of Nottingham. At first a bit embarrassed by the nature of this nocturnal disturbance (a Public House brawl he was more than equipped to deal with, but a homesick child?), Brutus gamely met the challenge and, after a few minutes and some consoling words and the heartfelt promise of a repeat performance whenever she felt she needed it and it didn't interfere with his duties, she was asleep in his arms. With a certain mistiness in his eyes, Brutus had then handed the little rabbit over to her mother and fled the room.
Justin, after exchanging an astonished and puzzled glance with Mrs. Brisbee, had followed the bear and found him sitting in a remote alcove, head in his paws, sobbing.
"Brutus, what's wrong? Are you feeling okay?" He'd asked as he took a seat next to the former Sheriff and placed a concerned paw on one of his massive shoulders.
"No." The bear had sobbed, his voice so tiny and choked with emotion that he reminded Justin of nothing so much as a small child.
"Then what's wrong?" Justin had asked again.
Brutus; after wiping his tear-filled, blood-shot eyes with the back of his paws; had looked pleadingly at him. "Every time I look at that beautiful, innocent young child I'm reminded of how I placed her in this dreadful situation by my own slimy, shallow-minded greed!" He'd cried. "I thought that once I'd taken your oath against Jenner and resigned my office, that that would be the end of whatever guilt or dishonor I'd brought upon myself, my Office and my name. But if that's so, why the hell do I feel so bad?" He'd implored.
Justin had shaken his head. "I don't know." He'd answered truthfully. "Duty has ways of reminding us that it's the smallest details that are the most important. A week ago you told me that we're fighting a war and that wars are about killing and destruction. Well maybe that beautiful, innocent young child brought home to you the fact that if we're unsuccessful in our endeavor SHE could end up as one of those casualties."
Brutus had nodded sadly. "Now I understand how you must feel." He whispered. He'd then met Justin's eyes with a desperate, haunted look. "What if she understands my part in her father's death?" He'd asked, shaken by the thought. "I could never forgive myself if that's true!"
"First of all, even assuming that she DOES understand it; and I've seen no sign that that's the case; she seems not only to have forgiven you, but also seems to want to embrace you as a friend." Justin had told him reassuringly. "If there IS any guilt left," He'd continued, "I think that it's probably something that you need to work on forgiving YOURSELF for. And, while it may take some time, I have the feeling that if a certain beautiful, innocent young child can find it in her heart to forgive the slimy shallow-mindedness of a certain former Sheriff of Nottingham; I certainly think that, someday at least, that former Sheriff will be able to find it in his own heart to forgive himself."
"Perhaps." The bear had said, a wan smile coming to his mouth and a far-away look to his eyes. Brutus had then excused himself to make one last patrol of the Estate grounds before retiring to bed.
Justin smiled to himself under the many layers of blankets. "One morale crisis averted." He thought to himself.
"Good Morning, Sleepyhead." A familiar voice called softly.
"Only my sister calls me that, Marian." Justin said, still smiling. "By the way, what time is it?" He inquired.
"About an hour after sunrise." Mrs. Brisbee answered.
"An hour...!" Justin exclaimed, suddenly struggling to free himself from his cocoon. "The meeting...!"
"Will wait for you." Mrs. Brisbee said patiently. "Your sister and I agreed that you should be given some extra time to sleep because you're going to need a clear head today. So take your time getting bathed and dressed and your breakfast will be brought to you in about a half-an-hour." She explained.
Justin, who now sat upright with the pile of blankets gathered at his waist nodded and Mrs. Brisbee bent over, planted a quick kiss on his forehead and left the room.
Chapter Forty-Eight
The congregation gathered for the meeting was actually rather small, occupying barely two-thirds of the Grand Dining Hall. (Even taking into account those who preferred to watch from the upper-level railings and Grand Staircase.) On the newly-cleaned Main floor, a large raised platform had been erected to one side of Jonathan Locksley's memorial marker (the moldy, damaged rug had been declared beyond help and had been disposed of) and several chairs and stools had been placed in a rough three-quarter circle on it. To one side of a large; almost opulent, presently empty; wingback chair (rescued at the last moment from a pile of furniture marked to be turned into firewood) sat Mrs. Brisbee and her children (she, Cynthia and Timothy in a smaller chair while Martin and Theresa fidgeted on a pair of stools to either side), and Linnette and Galen; who were dressed, respectively, in an attractive peasant-style costume dress and shawl (rather than her usual plain housedress and apron) and scarlett military Dress-tunic. (With all insignae except decorations and rank removed.)
To the other side sat the former Sheriff (in a chair almost as large as, if much more spartan than, the one in the center), Ezekiel Stabb (who now wore civilian clothing rather than the Guard uniform that Mrs. Brisbee had become used to seeing him in), Clyde Pegg and Dr. Ages.
In the surrounding sea of faces Mrs. Brisbee could see various animals she recognized. A few rows back from the platform Will Scarlet, who wore his acrobat costume, and Heather Kilcannon, resplendent in a blue velvet formal gown borrowed from Wilbur Splitbranch's oldest daughter, sat paw-in-paw engaged in dreamy-eyed conversation; seemingly oblivious to the dull roar of the crowd around them. She caught a glimpse of the two ferrets; Tom Binns and his older brother Robert, whose front paw still lay immobilized in a cast and sling; who had been introduced to her by Dr. Ages after he had arrived with his family late the night before. Almost the whole Grand Staircase and most of a section of the floor below was taken by the Sheriff's former Deputies and their families, including every member of the Waning-Crescent Clan of weasels. Up in the rafters Jeremy sat dozing (or brooding, in the pensive sense of the word), a dark broad-brimmed hat that he'd found somewhere pulled low over his eyes, his black feathers and dark tunic melding with the shadows. Lady Kluck had volunteered to watch the nursery along with a few of the younger mothers and would be apprised of the decisions made at the meeting afterward.
All conversation stopped and the Hall fell silent as a lone figure began to make his way, through a roped-off aisle, down the Grand Staircase. A moment later, from somewhere in the back of the room, someone began applauding. Quickly, other animals began taking up the applause; and by the time Justin reached the platform the crowd was roaring, whistling and clapping its approval.
As soon as he stepped onto it, Justin raised his arms and began to signal the assembly to quiet. He looked much-refreshed after a good night's sleep and hot bath and the light from the candles of the main chandelier glinted off of the just-polished gold of his Guards rank-pin. Also; during the week that he'd been away from the Estate to bring back Mrs. Brisbee and the others, the female contingent of Nottingham had somehow found the time and material to make him a new shirt and uniform vest.
"Thank you. Thank you so much." He said after silence was restored. "I know," He began. "That many of you already know at least a few bits and pieces of the story of what has brought us here to this particular place on this particular day. But for the sake of clarity I believe that a summary of the complete story would do much to give a better picture of both our present situation and the events that have led up to it." He said.
Justin then gave a detailed narration of Jenner's plottings against his adoptive brother, King Nicodemus; his work with his own half-brother and Dr. Ages to keep the Crown and Amulet (all eyes turned their gaze to the stone that hung around Mrs. Brisbee's neck at it's mention, much to her embarrassment) out of Jenner's grasp; Jenner's murder of King Nicodemus and Sir Jonathan and his own hasty flight from The City with the Chancellor's widow and children; his mourning of the deaths of his Sovereign and best friend (not a few animals cried during his description) and his weeks of effort to stop the worst abuses by Jenner's friends; the arson and attempted murder of himself, Ages, Mrs. Brisbee and her children and Jeremy (He was especially effusive in his praise of Jeremy's near-self-sacrifice in his effort to save Timothy, after which Jeremy took a good-humored bow and tipped his hat); the revelation of his relationship to Sir Jonathan (again eliciting more than a few tears) and his efforts to find his origins; his encounter with Brutus and the meeting and oath against Jenner in the Heath; and finally, his arrival and the news that Sullivan, the actual doer of most of Jenner's dirty work, was now the chief law-enforcement officer of the Shire. (This news, of course, provoked an outcry from the congregation.)
He then had Mrs. Brisbee, Brutus, Ezekiel Stabb and Dr. Ages tell their stories in turn and implored his rapt audience to reflect on the facts that had just been related, after which the meeting was ajourned for lunch.
After getting his bowl of delicious-smelling pepper-bean soup, a plate of breadand a mug of mulled apple-cider; Justin hurried to the circle where the Brisbee's, the Talbot's, Tom Binns and his wife Jennifer (Robert and his nieces and nephews were eating not far away), Dr. Ages, Jeremy, Brutus, Ezekiel Stabb, Will and Heather, and Liam and his wife, Sian, were gathered. After various necessary introductions were made, Justin sat at a spot reserved for him between his adoptive sister and his half-brother's widow.
"I'd say you caught their interest." Brutus commented just before gulping down some of his cider.
Justin shrugged as he broke a slice of his bread. "I should hope so." He said. "These folk need to know just what they're up against. I'd be derelict in my duties as their possible leader if I withheld any of the facts from them."
"'Possible' leader?" Jennifer Binns asked. "I was under the impression that you already had that position pretty well nailed down." She said.
Justin smiled politely and shook his head. "No, Ma'am. I'm not like Jenner, come to order you or your husband and sons and daughters into battle from on high for my own glory or; worse yet; to satisfy some desire for revenge on my part." He dipped the piece of bread into his soup and took a bite. After swallowing he continued. "If I'm to be a credible leader to youall, I must be approved by everyone in this building. If I haven't the trust or respect of even one animal who's joined me here, I'm as much a pretender to the leadership of this cause as Jenner is to Britain's Throne."
"But what of your vow?" Linnette asked.
Justin sighed. "I'd still be honor-bound to keep it to the best of my ability." He said, a hint of resignation in his voice. "I'd simply have to try and do so under whoever these folk picked to be their leader."
"Well I, for one, think you'll make a fine leader." Jennifer said. "From what Dr. Ages has told us, you more than deserve our confidence."
Justin smiled again. "Thank you, Ma'am. But I would prefer that everyone here voted their conscience rather than simply try to please me." Justin then became more serious. "If anybody has a better idea of how to avoid a confrontation that will; inevitably, I'm sorry to say; lead to bloodshed, even I would gladly follow him or her. But every action that Jenner has taken thus far leads me to believe that some kind of opposition to his rule is not only warranted, but absolutely necessary." He stated flatly.
"Here, here!" Brutus said as Galen, Stabb, Tom and Liam nodded their agreement.
A while later, after the lunch had been eaten and all of the dinnerware had been sent to the designated washroom (for use until the repairs to the kitchen were completed), Justin once again called the meeting to order and submitted Brutus and Galen's recommendation that a "Council of Elders" be elected to see to the day-to-day needs of those present and nominated the former Sheriff of Nottingham as its Chairman. With only token debate over a few details (mainly how long the term of such an Office would last, the figure settled on being one year with the next election to be held on that date next; and the number of Council members, nine being the agreed-upon figure) the measure was approved unanimously. Next, nominations for Elders were called for, submitted and eventually voted upon. Elected in short order were Marian Brisbee, Tom Binns, Ezekiel Stabb, Liam Wyclyffe, Wilbur Splitbranch, Dr. Ages and Jonah "Blinkey" Baylor.
Election of the ninth member became problematic when Galen refused the submission of hisname for nomination by several of the farmfolk, explaining with some passion that his duties to his beloved wife precluded all others except advising Justin on military matters and helping to train the Army that would be needed to both defend the Estate and; some day, hopefully; topple Jenner from the Throne. A number of other names were submitted but no agreement could be reached. Out ofgrowing frustration, Justin was about to call a recess when Will Scarlet jumped to his feet.
"Oy nominay' 'Eather Kilcannon f'r th' Counc'l!" He shouted.
Heather (along with several others in the crowd) gasped at this breach of parliamentary protocol. She grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him back down. "Will, me love, have ye goneDAFT?" She demanded in an embarrassed half-whisper.
Will gave a wan, equally embarrassed grin and shrugged. His mind froze, as did the answer on his lips.
It was Ezekiel Stabb who came to Will's rescue. "I second the nomination!" He announced proudly. He then turned to Justin. "Captain Locksley. May I please address this meeting and the presently-elected members of this Council?" He asked, his eyes bright with emotion.
Justin smiled, bowed and motioned Stabb to the spot where he was standing. "By all means, Sir." He said, then retreated to his center chair.
Stabb adjusted his clothing, a military-pattern vest and shirt cut from peasant-style cloth, and hesitated a moment, gathering his thoughts. "Fellow Britons," He began. "I know that I'm a recent arrival from the Continent and that you heard my story earlier today. But over these past several months I have developed a deep love and respect for this land and its inhabitants even as they have fallen under the tyranny of a King who would forsake them. But I believe that there is another story that needs to be told. As I was arresting those children of the King's Orphanage, and; sadly; I can think of no more accurate term to use, a crowd of students, who I thought to be nothing more than an irritating rabble at the time, began to gather in protest of the actions that I'd let myself be manipulated into. Little did I know at the time, but the protest had apparently been organized by the young skunk who had taken upon herself the task of guarding the backpack of the young hayseed who so thoroughly kicked my tail and woke me up to the Evil that I was doing to those poor kids.
"Later, after we'd made good our escape from The City, she gave me my first insight; my 'epiphany', if you will; into a gentler side of myself that I never realized I had. She also taught me that, whatever evils might haunt my past, redemption was and is still possible even for a foolish old soldier like me. Her wisdom, a word that I don't use lightly, is far beyond her tender years and her innocence and optimism made our search for Captain Locksley not simply bearable but, as I look back upon it, a pleasure that I will remember with a smile until the day that I'm summoned by the spirits."
Stabb then held an inviting paw in the direction of the spot where Will and Heather were seated. "Heather Kilcannon, would you join me on the platform, please?"
Heather shyly stood as the crowd burst into applause and she made her way through the rows of animals. Stabb and Justin met her at the bottom of the platform steps and escorted her to its center. By now, tears were freely flowing down her cheeks and Stabb's eyes were also quite moist. She tightly hugged Stabb. "Thank ye." She said, her voice a whisper that barely carried above the cheers of the audience. Stabb looked into her wide, awe-struck eyes. "No, girl, it's you I have to thank." He said as he felt a tear slide from his own eye and soak into the fur of his cheek. "For giving me back a soul that I thought I'd lost so many years ago." Heather gave Stabb another quick hug and Justin stepped over and lightly and respectfully kissed the silky black fur of the back of her paw. He then signaled the congregation to silence.
"Okay," He said. "A nomination has been made and seconded and an endorsement given. All in favor of electing Miss Heather Kilcannon to the last seat on the ’Council of Elders’, although if she IS elected we'll be stretching the definition a bit, (scattered laughter erupted from the crowd at this remark) signify by a show of paws or wing."
The vote was, of course, unanimous.
While the crowd again made known their approval, Justin escorted her not back down the steps but to sit at his center chair. He then, once more, motioned for quiet. "It's now time for probably the most important vote of the day." He stated, a tinge of hesitation readily apparent in his voice. "Until now, you have all followed me simply because I was willing to lead you. This, I suppose, is not in and of itself a bad thing. In times of crisis we often look to someone who is willing to take great responsibilities upon him, or her, self (at this point he traded a significant glance with Mrs. Brisbee) in the belief that this willingness is a sign of strength or wisdom, a word; by the way; that I also don't use lightly, that is given to just a privileged few." He paused a moment to let his words soak into the audience. "Unfortunately, Jenner would seem to be living proof that BEING a leader or a King and an actual TALENT for Leadership are NOT necessarily one in the same.
"If I'm to be your leader, fine, I'll gladly accept that position and whatever burdens or privileges you happen to bestow upon it. But if I'm to function EFFECTIVELY as your leader, I need to know that I have the unanimous support of those I lead or, as I told someone recently, I'm no better than the tyrant that I'm supposed to be leading you all against.
"For myself, the vow that I made a week and a day ago still stands! Even if, by your vote, you decide that I am NOT fit to lead you, I'm still Honor-bound to do all that I can to the best of my ability to rid Britain of the chains of abuse and slavery that Jenner has cruelly placed around the necks of his subjects. To those of you who took up my vow last week, I now release you from it so that you can vote your conscience and not feel unduly obligated to me; the same goes for those who have come to seek shelter from the terror of Jenner's rule. Brutus, would you please call the vote?" Justin asked as he stepped to one side.
Brutus stood and said, "By a show of paws or wing, all in favor of Justin as the leader of this effort to toss Jenner's tail off the Throne of Britain, please signify!"
Almost before he'd completed the phrase, one paw from each and every animal in the hall (plus Jeremy's wing in the rafters) shot up.
"Any opposed?" He asked.
A tense silence filled the room for a moment as no one dared to even breathe.
"Then by unanimous vote of those present I name Captain Justin Locksley the official leader of this motley rabble of townfolk and farmers!" He declared with a wide grin.
The crowd erupted instantly into giddy applause and Justin had no real choice but to adjourn the meeting as a festival atmosphere swept through the hall. Eventually he managed to corral the members of the Council of Elders, along with Linnette and Galen Talbot and Will Scarlet; who kept firmly arm-in-arm with Heather; and led them to what had once obviously been a sitting room in its better days.
"I apologize for the lack of accommodations," He said, a lopsided grin on his face. "But a large table isn't exactly high on the woodwright's priority list at the moment. Until he decides we're worth the bother, we'll just have to improvise." He then directed the Council members and his guests to form a semi-circle facing the fireplace, which radiated heat from a pile of still-glowing embers. "I'll also try to keep this meeting short so none of us misses too much of the festivities outside." Justin then noticed Wendell Cravenbrook; portable desk, ink bottle, pen and a small sheaf of paper in paw; hovering expectantly just outside the open door. Justin waved the former Deputy in and seated him to one side comfortably close to the heat of the fireplace.
"The first order of business of the first official meeting of this Council," He began. "Should be to determine what we should call 'this motley rabble of townfolk and farmers', as our esteemed Council President so delicately and diplomatically put it."
From somewhere, a "Harrumph!" was heard.
"Someone has a suggestion?" Justin asked with mild amusement.
"More like an objection!" The otter who called himself "Blinkey" replied with a scowl.
"Which is?" Justin asked.
The otter stood. "Why shou'd we have t' call aurselves anythin'?" He asked. "We're just a bunch o' folk who've decided that we won't be pushed aroun' b' tha' idjit King no more! We don' need no name fer tha'!" He declared.
Justin shrugged. "Perhaps you're right." He said. "But tell me, weren't you a sailor before retiring to Nottingham to become a farmer?" He asked, his tone neutral and polite.
The otter rolled his one eye impatiently. "Aye, tha' I was, Boy. Bu' wha's tha' go' t' do wi' anythin'?" He asked.
"Well," Justin began, drawing out his pronunciation of the word. "Correct me if I'm wrong," He said airily. "But didn't the ships that you crewed aboard usually have a name of some sort? You know; an Important Historical Personage, a Mythical Figure, a Captain or Builder's Wife or girlfriend..."
"Aye! So?" The otter asked, clearly irritated.
"So you were loyal to those ships and their names, were you not?" Justin asked.
"I shou'd 'ope so! A crew is loyal t' its ship an' each other! Tha's an unwritten Law o' th' Sea!"Blinkey proudly declared.
"My point exactly!" Justin exclaimed. "We have to name our effort against Jenner for the same reason that you would name a ship, to instill an unbreakable bond of loyalty between our cause and between each other! If a Ship's Captain dies in mid-voyage, will the crew suddenly, aside from the burial-at-sea, just stop and not do their duties to the ship and for each other?" He asked pointedly.
Blinkey didn't hesitate a moment before answering. "No, Sir." He stated, for the first time a genuine respect in his voice.
Justin pressed on. "Even if, the spirits forbid, I should be killed in my efforts to keep the vow that I've made to you; isn't it reasonable to assume that the rest of you will pick up where I left off?"
A dozen heads solemnly, unhesitatingly, nodded in unison.
"Then this cause, OUR cause, must be looked at as a ship that has just embarked on a most perilous journey." He declared. "If, for whatever reason, I'm unable to complete the voyage then I expect someone to take my place as Ship's Captain and sail on until those who've survived me have reached a peaceful shore."
By now, tears were streaming from Blinkey's good eye and his head was bowed and he held his sea-hat, fidgeting with it like a child waiting to be punished.
Justin cocked his head quizzically to one side. "Have I said something wrong?" He asked, concern evident in his voice.
"No Sir." The otter said in a voice somewhere between a whisper and a sob. "Bu' I realize now," He continued, "Tha' I been showin' you a disr'spec' you ain't been d'servin' o'."
Justin shrugged. "If you mean your skepticism of my leadership abilities, I'm sure that you're far from the only one. I have the feeling that those few that I DO possess are going to be in for a fair amount of testing and questioning in the weeks and months ahead." He sighed and walked to the otter and put a consoling arm around the sailor-turned-farmer's sharply sloping shoulders. "It's inevitable that, over time, someone, at some point, is going to disagree with me over this or that detail; or even just get fed up with me barking out orders all day. It's just something that I've resigned myself to and can't let drive me crazy." He then turned the otter to face him and gazed into his eye. "Please don't EVER feel hesitant to point out any mistakes that you might think I've made. I'm not perfect and I expect to make plenty of them while I'm doing this so I'll need your help and everybody else's to keep me humble. Deal?" He asked, raising his eyebrows and giving the otter a good-natured grin.
Blinkey hesitated for a few moments, but finally matched it with a somewhat broken-toothed smile of his own. (This amazed Galen. The only expression that he'd ever seen on Blinkey was an ever-present scowl.) "Deal!"he said. He then spit into his paw and offered it to the fox.
Without hesitation, Justin spit into his own paw and they both shook to seal their bargain.
The debate over what to call the effort to fight Jenner didn't actually last very long. Several suggestions were made and rejected. But it was, of all things, a side "argument" between Martin and his mother that inspired the name that was eventually chosen. The Brisbee children had been patiently sitting through the meeting until the sounds of the party outside started &becoming; more prominent. Martin tugged on the well-worn hem of his mother's travelling cape but couldn't seem to get her attention. He then managed to snag one of the leaves of paper and a pencil that Wendell had brought with him and had written something on it and shown it to her. Irritated by the interruption Mrs. Brisbeehad written an answer below, shown it to him and then placed the page back by where the young weasel was scribbling furiously away as suggestions were tossed out for consideration. Unconsciously, Wendell reached down and picked up the piece of paper and was about to shove it to the back of his sheaf when he noticed what the mother fox had written. He then handed the paper to Justin; who scanned it quickly as his eyes widened and jaw dropped in amazement.
"Of course! It's so SIMPLE! Why didn't I think of that?" He blurted so quickly that all in the room were taken totally by surprise.
"What? What's so simple?" Asked Linnette, who'd been trying to follow the meeting with little success even with the help of a whispered narrative by her husband.
"We can call our fight 'NO!'!" Justin said, joyfully waving the piece of paper over his head.
"But what's that supposed to mean?" Wilbur Splitbranch asked skeptically.
Justin huffed in exasperation. "Isn't it obvious?" He asked. "It means 'NO!' to Jenner's rule, 'NO!' to his enslavement of his subjects, 'NO!' to the Repossession Decree..." He began ticking off points on the fingers of one paw.
"I believe that what my colleague meant was, what will the initials 'N' and 'O' stand for?" Ezekiel Stabb interjected more calmly.
Wilbur nodded. "What he said." The weasel murmured.
"How about 'Nottingham Organization'?" Brutus asked. "It's short and catchy." The bear said. "Even the simplest peasant ought to be able to remember it."
"An excellent idea!" Dr. Ages agreed. "I'll second it!" He exclaimed.
"Marian?" Justin asked. "What about you? It was, after all, your idea."
Mrs. Brisbee shrugged with embarrassment. The piece of paper that Justin held was really nothing more than a request by her eldest son to join the revelry taking place outside and her refusal to let him; not because she wished to deny them a well-earned opportunity for some fun, but because she didn't wish to leave them unsupervised. "I-I guess I have no objection." She stammered.
"Alright then. All in favor?" He asked.
One of everyone's paw shot into the air, including Blinkey's.
"Well, I guess we've all just become members of the 'Nottingham &Organization;' then." Justin said. "This meeting is adjourned. Now go on out and have yourselves a good time."
After the others had left the room, Stabb showed Justin the plan that he and Galen had spenta good part of the night writing which detailed a way to make contact with Sullivan with minimum risk of capture by the new Sheriff.
"Are you sure this'll work?" Justin asked.
"Frankly, no." Stabb replied flatly. "But it's the best we could come up with from what little information we could get from the Wyclyffe boy. Anyway, you know Sullivan better than any of the rest of us; what d'you think?" He asked.
Justin shook his head, anger mixed with sadness as he exclaimed, "I'm not sure WHAT to think! I HATE having so few options! I make one wrong decision and someone's husband, son or brother will probably die because of it."
Stabb nodded his understanding. "Believe me, Captain, I know the feeling well. But war's are about fightin' an' dyin'. Sometimes for somethin' you believe in, most times not. We just gotta make sure that we know which is which an' keep remindin' ourselves why we're fightin' this one." He said sympathetically.
Justin lifted a skeptical eyebrow. "You and Brutus must share the same speechwriter. That's pretty much what he told me about a week ago when we hatched this little plan." He said with a hint of sarcasm.
Stabb smiled a bit, but there was a certain sadness in his voice as he said, "His is a voice of wisdom while mine is one of long experience. You, my friend, seem to be blessed with an ample supply of both. Your problem, however, is that you wish that you could spare all of these folk the pain, suffering and death that lie in wait for them." Stabb's face then darkened and his eyes hardened, as did his voice. "But I can tell you right now that you're gonna have to close your Heart, your eyes an' your ears to the cries of the wounded an' dying once the blood starts to run an' concentrate on the fight directly in front of you or it'll drive you to the depths of despair and our cause,not just the battles we'll have to fight for it, WILL be lost."
Justin was shaken a bit by the vehemence of Stabb's words. "I guess we'll have to chance your plan." He said grimly. Almost as an afterthought he asked, "So who's gonna go into town to speak to Sullivan?"
"Missus Talbot tried to volunteer. Said the Sheriff'd never take a blind person hostage." Stabb said, a mischievous grin coming to his face as Justin's jaw dropped in horror. "Don't worry, Captain." Stabb reassured him. "Colonel Talbot an' I nixed that idea right off. Mrs. Brisbee's friend, that Lady Kluck, has volunteered. Frankly, I think she's our best candidate. Sullivan may or may not recognize her, but I think he might be inclined to treat her as a neutral party for the time being." He said.
Justin again raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I rather doubt that "neutrality" has an entry in his battlefield manual; but you're right, I don't think that he'll perceive her as any kind of threat." He said.
"Then it's a 'go'?" Stabb asked.
Justin nodded. "Yeah." He said quietly, praying to the spirits that he was doing the right thing.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Jenner was pacing the Courtyard Overlook going over the various reports that he'd heard from the Sheriffs and Guildmasters in his mind. Even the bitter wind and low Sun did not distract him from his gleeful ruminations. His plans for Britain were progressing as well as, and in many cases better than, he could ever have hoped when he'd "appropriated" the crown from his accursed "brother". Brother to Nicodemus. Even at this moment the thought that such a thing had been made him sick to his stomach. Nicodemus had been physically strong, of that there could be no doubt. And he'd even shown a modicum of intellectual accomplishment in a rather diverse number of subjects. What was the term? A mile wide and an inch deep?
But they had all been the WRONG subjects. Science and History instead of Power and Control. Art and Philosophy instead of Money and Manipulation. Nicodemus was forever wasting time and money trying to make his subjects happy and comfortable and trying to improve their lot in life, as if a bunch of relatively worthless animals ever deserved such consideration. No, Nicodemus had been an utter fool. And now it was time to correct his errors.
From behind, Jenner heard a quiet scuffling on the stone floor. He turned and saw the Grandmaster silhouetted against the faint light emanating from the door that opened onto the overlook.
"I would speak with you." The Grandmaster wheezed.
Jenner smiled and nodded. "It would be my honor to hear your words." He said.
With a rhythmic shuffling of hooves and the tap of his cane the old boar joined the lion. They walked to the wall and gazed at the imminent late-Autumn Sunset. After a short silence the Grandmaster asked. "Do you remember a young boar whom you sent to exile some months ago?"
"Yes." Jenner answered disdainfully, wrinkling his nose. "One Eustace Scrubb by name. Why do you ask?"
The Grandmaster regarded Jenner through half-closed eyes. "I was wondering if Your Majesty might possibly consider rescinding the exile order."
Jenner continued to stare impassively at the darkening sky but his voice was as cold as the bitter wind as he asked. "Is he a relative of yours?"
The Grandmaster shook his head, causing his jowls and multiple chins to flap about. "No. His parents have petitioned me on his behalf. I merely convey their appeal for His Majesty's permission that he be allowed to return." The Grandmaster replied.
"Tell me, old friend, did Eustace's parents fully explain to you the circumstances of his exile?" Jenner inquired, no hint of emotion in his voice.
"They told me that he, shall we say, illicitly coerced a number of peasants to carry him in his sedan-chair and was robbed in the process. I assume that had he not been robbed he would not have been caught." The boar offered, choosing his words carefully.
"Indeed." Jenner said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "And did they bother to inform you as to the, shall we say, 'tool' that he used as his method of coercion?" He asked.
The Grandmaster raised a suspicious eyebrow. "I'm afraid they never volunteered such information, Your Majesty, nor did I think it important at the timeto ask." He said.
Jenner smiled grimly. "You may be forgiven your lack of inquisitiveness, my friend." The smile instantly transformed to an angry scowl. "But Eustace Scrubb CANNOT be forgiven his appalling lack of discretion." Jenner then turned and confronted the Grandmaster eye-to-eye with such intensity as to make the old boar flinch. "That senseless idiot used a WHIP on those peasants!" He hissed. "All that we worked for, all that we planned for was nearly destroyed because that fool wished to save a few Talents; which he could easily have afforded to part with; rather than hire a few convicts from the Sheriff. I had no choice BUT to punish him in the manner that I did! My power as King was not fully consolidated at the time and my hold on the Throne was, at best, tenuous. Had I done nothing, I would no doubt be in exile myself or; worse yet; at eternal rest with my 'dear' brother and his Chancellor
because of some petty peasant uprising." He shivered a bit in the wind of the fast-approaching night, but whether from the cold or; perhaps; the thought of what could have been those many months ago the Grandmaster had no way of knowing. "The supreme irony is that it was my brother's Captain-of-the-Guard who brought Eustace's 'excesses' to my attention." Jenner said somewhat more calmly. "The thought that, to a certain extent, I have him to thank for keeping me on the Throne is, needless to say, a less than comforting one."
The Grandmaster nodded sympathetically. "I can understand why." He said.
"Then you can also understand why I must refuse to lift my Judgement against Eustace. I have no feelings one way or the other for those peasants; but I do have certain standards of good order, common sense and discipline that I expect even my friends to adhere to. Eustace violated those standards, and therefore my trust, and I had no choice but to mete out a just punishment to him, as I would to any other." Jenner stated flatly.
The Grandmaster nodded again. That Jenner could on the one hoof care nothing about the pain that had been inflicted upon his subjects since his ascent to the Throne, but on the other hoof dispense severe punishment for what, in the long run, amounted to nothing morethan a simple error in judgement; didn't surprise the Grandmaster in the slightest. In fact, the boar was fairly bursting with pride (among other things) that his favorite student had learned his lessons so well.
The Grandmaster (he'd once had a name, but since his own ascension to his present office it had gone so long unused as to be forgotten) remembered the young, stubborn, arrogant, petulant cub who'd been sent to him to be tutored in the arcana of mercantile economics by his adoptive father. Unlike his well-behaved adoptive brother the Crown Prince, the Prince-Regent had been an utter terror; playing cruel jokes on the household servants, bullying his colleagues' children and once even tearing pages out of an active account book and using them to start his morning fire. But while the young Prince-Regent's brattish behavior had been intolerable to others, The Grandmaster had; at first sight; recognized a yearning, a greed, for power and money and a self-absorption that matched his own and had, over these many years, encouraged and taught the cub how to most effectively use intimidation, manipulation and; yes, when necessary; murder to get whatever his heart (or whatever happened to pass for it) desired. But he'd also added another important ingredient to this volatile mix. Patience. The Grandmaster had painstakingly taught his ever-willing acolyte that there were times in any given situation when the best course of action was simply to wait. And while Jenner had been forced to wait for the Crown for a long time indeed, no thanks to the meddling of a now-deceased Chancellor and a fugitive ex-Captain-of-the-Guard and ex-King's Physician, he could now enjoy the nearly endless bounty soon to be supplied by his subjects; and the Grandmaster and others would, to use the hoary old expression, feed from the same trough.
The Grandmaster smiled inwardly at the result of his efforts as the last rays of the setting sun gave way to the twinkling of the stars. "You did what had to be done. I will inform the Scrubbs of your decision." He said. He then added, keeping his tone as neutral as possible, "I must say that you've learned your lessons well."
A bit of a smile...or was it a smirk (?) replaced the scowl on Jenner's face. "I was taught by a master." He said impassively. Then his eyes narrowed and his head tilted slightly. "Tell me, old friend, would you be adverse to moving your operations to the castle for the time being?" He asked.
The Grandmaster raised a questioning eyebrow. "I suppose not. But for what reason?" He inquired.
Jenner shrugged. "Ever since I imprisoned or discharged my brother's court and the majority of his housekeeping staff I've had no one other than Captain Sykes and, on occasions such as this, you to bounce my ideas off of. I need someone who'll give me a necessary perspective on how best to efficiently maintain my rule. Sullivan was well suited to that task but unfortunately I had needs of his particular talents in Nottinghamshire." He stated. (The Grandmaster thought that he heard a hint of uncharacteristic sentiment in Jenner's voice, but decided to let the matter pass.)
"I suppose that such a transfer as you mention could do no harm." The Grandmaster said evenly, but his mind had shifted into overdrive. The royal residence was the seat of both governmental and political power over all of Britain. While the Grandmaster was certainly aware that his influence over the royal mind was, to an outsider, staggering; it was by no means, to be truthful, absolute and, considering Jenner's own formidable instincts for manipulation and power-politics, would probably never become as total as the Grandmaster would have wished. But the Grandmaster knew that, at it's most basic, power is a matter of perception. Jenner had power over the animals of Britain because the animals of Britain perceived that he had power over them because he wore the Crown and sat on the Throne that all the previous rulers of Britain had worn and sat on for the past several generations. The animals of Britain, in actuality, could probably overthrow their King if properly motivated, the Grandmaster knew, but the mere perception by them that their King held the power of life and death over them would be more than enough to keep the vast majority frightened into passivity. Also, the Grandmaster realized that his own power (or rather, the power that others perceived him as having) would be substantially increased by his proximity to that of the King's. The Mercantile Guilds on the continent would perceive him as having the direct imprimatur of his King and the Grandmaster would be able to exploit that perception (with Jenner's approval of course, but he rather doubted that this would be a problem) and would be able to negotiate better trade deals on behalf of his own Guilds. "If Your Majesty wishes, his humble teacher and servant could move in this very evening." The Grandmaster said, trying his best to keep his voice from quavering with the almost uncontrollable glee that he felt.
"That would be most desirable." Jenner said. "I'll have the household staff set up a full apartment for you and your servants will be given their own quarters. I'll also make sure that you have full access to the kitchen anytime, day or night. Is this acceptable to you?"
"Absolutely, Your Majesty!" The Grandmaster replied, fairly shivering with ecstatic anticipation.
"Excellent." Jenner said, sweeping a paw toward the castle door. "Come, old friend, I imagine that supper awaits our presence. Let's see if my cook can, for once, make something resembling an edible meal."
As they started across the worn stones, the Grandmaster asked, "If Your Majesty is so unhappy with the quality of his own chef, why do you still retain him?"
Jenner shook his head. "Because no one else will work as cheaply as he." He said bitterly.
"Need I remind you that you are the King of Britain?" The Grandmaster asked sharply, somewhat surprised by what he'd just heard. "Have I not taught you that as a King you must live as a King and not as an alms-seeker?"
Jenner nodded, somewhat browbeaten by the stridency of his mentor's tone of voice. "Yes, Grandmaster, I suppose you're right. If tonight's meal doesn't meet with your approval I'll discharge the cook tonight and hire someone better suited for the job." He said.
"Perhaps you could hire MY personal chef?" The Grandmaster proposed as they entered the warmth of the castle. "He's never failed to make my meals the most enjoyable experience of my day." The boar tried to laugh, but instead it came out as a series of self-satisfied snorts.
Jenner smiled humorlessly. "Perhaps." He said distantly. "Perhaps."
Chapter Fifty
Ignatz was at his wit's end. He could deal with Jenner's cruelty no longer. As frightened as he was, he'd made his decision and now he would have to stick to it; for his own sake and that of his family. There would be NO turning back!
He, his wife and his nine children; two with a husband and wife each and children of their own; had waddled (for this was the only truly accurate description of how hedgehogs walked [and running was out of the question] on their short legs) through Londontown's darkest and meanest alleyways in search of the place where they were to meet their only hope of escape from the madness that was quickly descending on Britain.
The note had not been terribly specific about the exact location, let alone the exact time, that the meeting was supposed to take place. It had simply told him that he was to be in one of the alleys off Northminster Circle about two hours after sundown. It had also told him to bring those family members whose lives he valued but nothing more.
The note. He'd been given the day off (this, in itself, was a rarity) so that Jenner could have a private meeting (rumor had it that His Majesty was going to reward those who had aided him in his ascent to the Throne) and found it perched atop the months-old overflow of bureaucratic paper and parchment that littered his desk in the main workroom of the offices of the King's Scribe, where all official documentation pertaining to royal affairs were transcribed or written. Iggy had almost tossed it onto the desk of one of the other scribes but had noticed that his name had been scrawled across the paper by an unfamiliar paw. When he had unfolded the note, a piece of parchment; from His Majesty's own private stock; had fallen out. After he'd nervously unfolded and read what was on the parchment he'd nearly died right then and there of a heart-attack. It was an order for the arrest and execution of himself and as many of his family members as could be found, and it was signed by Jenner himself! He'd had to read the order twice more to convince himself that it could possibly be authentic, but there was simply no mistaking the elegant script of the signature to which he'd become accustomed over these many (too many, to be honest!) months. Through the tears of his shock and dismay he'd read the note; written in a separate, also unfamiliar paw; into which the arrest/execution order had been folded and found a seed of hope.
It had been an offer of aid to escape from the City.
As it had instructed, Iggy had memorized the contents of the note and burned it. Also per instructions, he'd placed the arrest/execution order into an unmarked envelope and placed it into his belt-pouch. Then, he'd brazenly waddled through the castle gate that he'd entered just minutes before; telling the slightly bewildered guard-on-duty that his family would have first priority on his time that particular day. He'd then made his way home as quickly as his legs would carry him and showed his family the arrest/execution order (deciding that the possibility of panic among his kin would simply HAVE to be risked) and explained the plan of their unknown benefactor and had then waited until the appointed hour to bring his family to the appointed place. Or at least to as close a proximity as could be determined from the instructions.
"Are you sure that this is where the note told you to bring us?" His wife, Zoe, whispered anxiously.
"It's as close to the description as I can come." Iggy whispered back. "The note was anything BUT specific."
"That's how we intended it." A voice in back of the group intoned.
All the hedgehogs wordlessly froze in stark terror; except for the baby that Zoe held in her arms, which began to cry softly.
The owner of the voice stepped out of the shadows that had concealed him from view just feet from where the hedgehogs now cowered against a building. He was a wolf, tall and quite handsome. Iggy also saw a distinct resemblance to the Captain of the Third Troop of The King's Guard. "Are-Are you Giles Gisbourne's brother?" Iggy stammered, his curiosity overriding his fear for the moment.
"The wolf nodded. "Geoffrey Gisbourne at your service." He said quietly. "Now if you'll follow me..."
"Waitaminnit!" Iggy exclaimed angrily. "First of all, what the hell is this all about?" He dug out a blank envelope from his belt-pouch.
"I assume that you're referring to the arrest and execution order signed by His Majesty last night." Geoffrey said calmly.
"Damn right I am!" Iggy said, stepping forward defiantly. "I've served the court faithfully for almost twenty years and I simply CANNOT believe that my King would betray me and my family like this!"
Geoffrey regarded the scribe, his eyes narrowing. His brother had described the hedgehog as a shy, weak-willed and downright cowardly type. But the creature that stood recalcitrant before him was obviously less craven than Giles had portrayed. If such were true and the hedgehog's fortitude (and that of his family) were not simply play-acting for his benefit, then perhaps an escape from the City was not such a far-fetched idea as Giles had warned him about after all. "I can assure you that the order," He nodded toward the parchment in Iggy's paw, "Is quite Dgenuine." He said, a small amount of sympathy detectable in his otherwise impassive voice.
"But why?" The hedgehog implored, his voice reflecting the genuine fear and incredulity that was now in his eyes. "I've served His Majesty loyally, even while he's treated me like...like..." Tears now began to flow down Iggy's cheeks as he fell, sobbing, to his knees. His wife, who by now had stopped her child's crying, pushed the bundle into the paws of one of her daughters and began trying to comfort her husband.
Geoffrey began glancing nervously down each direction of the alleyway. "Please, Ma'am; we must leave here as soon as possible. One of Jenner's spies may very well be nearby." He said, urgency and exasperation now in his voice.
She turned on the wolf, her eyes blazing with anger and welling with tears of their own. "Have you no decency? Have you no compassion?" She hissed in indignation. "My husband has been trying to hold this family together in spite of all the abuse that King Jenner has been heaping on him; and now to find out that we've been betrayed like this? I believe that some kind of explanation is the very least that you owe us!" She squeaked in rage.
The wolf stared at them impassively for a few moments. This assignment was definitely NOT going according to plan! These hedgehogs were supposed to follow him out of the City without question, grateful to have escaped with their skins; if not their actual lives; intact. But his father, font of wisdom that he'd once been, had told him long ago that even the most intelligent souls could act irrationally in situations that were outside of their normal realm of their experience. He mentally shrugged, telling himself that a summary death-sentence from one's own employer probably fit that particular bill. "Alright," He said, "Maybe my father can help you in that regard. But the longer we hang around here, the greater our chances of getting caught."
Geoffrey then led the family of hedgehogs through the dark and now oppressive streets of Londontown, several times doubling back on the route or hiding his charges in a deserted building or alleyway until he was sure that they weren't being followed. When he'd decided that all was safe for the moment he led them to a modest two-story brick house in one of the poorer sections of the City near the Western City Gate. He knocked quietly at the door, which was answered by a pretty teenage female wolf.
Clearly confused, she asked, "Geoffery, what are you doing back so soon?"
The older male jerked a thumb back in the direction of the line of hedgehogs waiting fearfully behind him.
The girl's eyes widened with astonishment. "Geez, Geoffrey, you shouldn't have brought THEM here! Dad'll have a stroke!" She exclaimed.
"What's going on out there!" A voice like the lowest notes from an organ demanded.
Geoffrey pointed a clawed finger directly into his sister's face. "You leave dad to me, Gillian!" He said sharply. He then pointed at the hedgehogs. "Get our guests some food and take 'em to the living room while I get him."
Gillian glared angrily at her brother for a moment but then stepped aside and let him and the unexpected visitors in.
A few moments later, Geoffrey had raced up the stairs and was at the door to his father's room. "Dad," He said in his best no-nonsense manner as he knocked on the door, "We've got a MAJOR problem!"
"Well come on in, dammit! What'd you screw up THIS time?" The voice on the other side asked sarcastically.
Geoffrey opened the door and with a sigh and a mixture of melancholy and bitter anger stepped inside. The room was tiny; with only a bed, a chest-of-drawers and a small desk from which a candle-lamp cast a dim and flickering light. On the bed under several layers of quilts lay the ill and wasted form of his father, Gilbert. In his youth he'd been very handsome, a trait quite evidently passed on to the present generation of his family. The elder Gisborne was Master of the Small Business Guild and, at least until Jenner had taken the Throne, a well-respected advisor to the House PenWallace. But over the past several months, ever since the tragic deaths of his friends King Nicodemus and Sir Jonathan Brisbee, his health had rapidly declined until all that was left was the pathetic bed-ridden wreck that was stretched out before his eldest son. But while his physical body was apparently beyond help, or so many of the doctors who had seen him recently had said, his defiant spirit, reflected by the constant, virulent anger in his eyes and his unalloyed contempt for King Jenner, was such that even Death itself seemed to have decided that this was a visit best postponed until a later day.
"Well?" The venerable wolf barked in exasperation.
Geoffrey mentally shook himself out of his reverie. "I didn't screw up anything, dad." He said as calmly as his rapidly frazzling nerves would allow. "The scribe that Giles told you about, the one that Jenner's sentenced to death, has demanded an explanation and I, for one, happen to agree that we owe him at least that much."
Gilbert's jaw dropped in astonishment and he attempted to lift himself to a sitting position with his elbows. "Dammit, boy, are you insane?" He snarled, baring his fangs. "If Jenner's spies find him here, his name's not gonna be the only one on that execution order!"
"Don't worry, dad, I made sure that we weren't followed." Geoffrey stated calmly. "And besides, no one except Jenner, the King's Scribe and; of course; us even knows about the order; thanks to Giles; so we'll still have plenty of time to get him and his family out of the City before it was scheduled to be carried out." He explained.
Gilbert glowered coldly at his son through diamond-hard eyes. "I hope to hell you're right, boy, or everything we've managed to accomplish up to now is a wasted effort." He grumbled. He then grabbed a robe draped over a bedknob of his headboard and, with great effort, struggled into it, refusing his son's offer of help. Geoffrey then gathered his incapacitated parent and the blankets that covered him into his arms and brought him carefully down to the living room where Gillian had served Iggy and his family some soup and lay him down on a well-worn couch near the just-stoked fire. Gilbert frowned his disapproval at his daughter, but she merely shrugged and indicated with a scowl of her own that she wasn't going to be intimidated by him. "So, Scribe, what's so special about you that you think you have the right to endanger my family by makin' my son bring you here instead o' just lettin' him take you outta the madhouse that this City's becoming?" He sneered as he tried to make himself comfortable.
"Dad!" Geoffrey exclaimed, horrified by his father's bad behavior toward their guests, even if those guests were uninvited.
Iggy held up a paw to silence the younger Gisborne. As afraid as he was for himself and his family, Iggy decided that he wasn't going to play the wolf's game. "Isn't the REAL question: What makes me so special that your son would endanger himself to help my family and me escape at all?" He asked, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. "It must be something extremely important to both of you and," He slipped the blank envelope with Jenner's order out of his belt-pouch, "I think that we," He waved the envelope toward his kin, "deserve to know why Jenner would betray us in this fashion."
Gilbert sniffed disdainfully. "What do I look like, a mind-reader?" He asked. "All I know is that my other boy, Giles, comes to me and asks if Geoff and I would help him smuggle a certain scribe out of here 'cause Jenner wants him dead. I only agreed to help because I'm thinkin' that maybe, just maybe, you might have information that we can use at some later date." His voice then became more sad and resigned. "Now I'm forced to help you simply because you know who we are and our connection to Giles." By now, Gilbert's breathing was becoming labored and his eyes were starting tobecome unfocused.
Geoffrey got up and adjusted his father's covers. "Don't worry, dad, I'll make sure our secret stays safe." He said gently.
"Damn you, boy." He groaned without emotion. "Just get 'em out of here." The elder wolf then fell into a restless slumber.
Geoffrey then told his sister to stay with their father until he returned from helping the hedgehogs make their escape. Then, by the light of a small lamp he led them in the dark, cold night through the most deserted alleyways of the City and into a graveyard that adjoined the City wall. He stopped at a pair of unmarked graves. "This is where King Nicodemus and Sir Jonathan Brisbee are buried." He said wistfully. "Because this is a 'potter's field', Jenner won't let anyone put a marker or monument up to honor their names." He then set the lantern down between the heads of the graves and had Iggy and his family sit in a circle around them. "I'm afraid that this is as far as I go. I've made it a habit over the past several months to come and pray for Nicodemus and Jonathan's souls, so the guards who patrol here won't pay much attention to the light and we shouldn't have to worry about anyone interrupting us."
"But how do we get out of the City, and where do we go? You're note said not to bring anything with us. How are we supposed to survive?" Iggy asked.
"There's an old gate in the wall hidden behind a stand of bushes a stones-throw Northeast of here. Giles showed it to me last Summer. It's open just enough that you should be able to squeeze through it. I hid several packs with food and a map in each under a pile of leaves just a few hours ago so they should still be there. Once you're out of here head North to Nottinghamshire; Giles says that he's heard rumors that there's a resistance group forming to try to stop Jenner. Maybe it's true, maybe it's not; either way you're safer out in the countryside than you'd be if you stayed here because we can, for a while at least, trick him into believing that the execution order," Geoffrey pointed to the hedgehog's belt-pouch, "Has been carried out." He said calmly.
Iggy nodded, then asked. "Why are you doing this? You've put yourself at terrible risk for a family that you don't even know. And I couldn't help but notice how displeased your father was, and it was more than just because you brought us to see him." He said sympathetically.
Geoffrey stared into the dim light cast by the lantern. "Dad and I both oppose Jenner's rule, but we have different reasons and different opinions as to the best methods of achieving our common aim. He's convinced that Jenner somehow poisoned him just before he killed Nicodemus and Jonathan and he wants to see Jenner dead before he himself succumbs to whatever it is that's killing him." He said impassively.
"And you?" Iggy asked.
"I want Jenner dead as well." Geoffrey stated flatly. "But I want to do it in a manner that exposes the lies and deception on which he and those who helped him to kill his brother and his brother's Chancellor built their power and which will humiliate them so badly that they'll be forced to face the Justice that they so richly deserve."
"But what of your brother? He's one of the King's own Guards!" Iggy exclaimed. "He's responsible for PROTECTING Jenner!"
A grim smile crossed the wolf's face, the light from the lantern giving it a slightly demonic cast. "Until recently my naive, idealistic sibling really believed that Nicodemus and Jonathan's sudden demise actually WAS the 'assassination by unknown parties' that Jenner's propaganda has been telling Britain it was; he's even managed to implicate Jonathan's poor, innocent widow and Nicodemus's former Doctor in this supposed 'plot'; but when he found the order for your execution on the King's Scribe's desk he realized Jenner's true nature and brought it to me and we enlisted dad's help in hatching this plan to, hopefully, get you and your loved ones to safety."
Iggy was stunned. He was by no means unaware of all the intrigues and backbiting that went on inside of any large, bureaucratic organization like the King's court; but to be suddenly thrust into the middle of these events with one's own life at stake by mere caprice was utterly incomprehensible. And the question that still haunted him the most had yet to be given a satisfactory answer. "But why ME? What's so important about me that Jenner would want me dead?" He asked desperately.
Geoffrey shook his head sadly and shrugged. "I'm afraid that only Jenner knows the answer to that particular question." He said quietly. He then began ticking off points on his fingers. "Maybe he thinks you know something that you're not supposed to? Maybe he thinks you've been disloyal to him? Hell, maybe he's decided he simply doesn't like you any more! I just don't know." He sighed heavily, then gazed intently into the faces of the hedgehogs with whom he sat. "I just know that I cannot, in good conscience, let an innocent family like yours suffer the way mine is being forced to." He then pointed off into the darkness. "You should get going now. The next patrol will be by soon and I've got to be seen alone or they'll get suspicious." He said.
Zoe placed a comforting paw on his arm. "Thank you so much for helping us." She said softly. "We'll keep you and your family in our prayers from now on."
Geoffrey nodded impassively and the hedgehogs got to their feet and waddled as quickly as possible toward the direction of the gate.
Chapter Fifty-One
Linnette took in the enticing, wonderful smell. Following her nose and the system of ropes that her husband had laid out she quietly and carefully traced the exquisite aroma. According to the rough map that she'd drawn in her mind over the past week she was in the second-floor hallway somewhere in the West-end of the manor-house near what used to be the library. (Though none of the books remained.) She crept down the hall until she heard what might have been the sound of a cup being placed on a saucer in a nearby room. She then made her way to the source of the sound and feeling the familiar lines of a closed door, softly knocked.
"Yes?" A familiar voice answered.
"Marian?" She asked, somewhat surprised.
"Yes, Linnette." The voice said with a detectable edge of weariness. "Come on in, doorknob's on your left."
Linnette quickly found the knob, opened the door and stepped in.
"To your right, along the wall about five paces. Table's just to your left, couch'll be dead ahead of you." Mrs. Brisbee told her.
Linnette followed her instructions and was soon seated next to her. "Thanks for the help." She said warmly.
"Your husband told me earlier that you hadn't yet memorized the layout of Locksley Manor. It's the least I could do." Mrs. Brisbee said. "Would you like some tea?" She asked.
"Please!" Linnette said, not bothering to hide her enthusiasm. "I smelled it a few minutes ago and followed the scent here." She explained.
Mrs. Brisbee frowned. "I'm sorry if I woke you," She said quietly as she poured a second cup and set it and a saucer into Linnette's waiting paws. "But ever since Jonathan's death I haven't been sleeping very well."
Linnette offered a consoling paw and Mrs. Brisbee placed it on her arm. The older vixen felt a familiar smoothness in the material of the robe that she knew the younger one was wearing. "I quite understand." She said, then after a brief pause observed. "I notice you're wearing mom's robe..."
"I'm sorry!" Mrs. Brisbee said hastily. "I'll give it back immediately! I had no right to..."
"It's okay! It's okay!" Linnette reassured her. "I'm guessing that Justin gave it to you and, quite frankly, I can think of no one else that I'd rather have wear it to honor my memories of her."
"Thank you." Mrs. Brisbee said.
They both drank in silence for several minutes until Linnette asked, "Marian, may I make a personal observation?"
"Yes, I suppose." Mrs. Brisbee replied distantly, as if preoccupied by her own thoughts.
"For some reason," She began, "Other animals tend to believe that because I can't see, I'm somehow not aware of my surroundings or what's going on around me. Fortunately for me, though probably not for them if they were to experience what I do during an average day, nothing could be further from the truth. While my remaining senses are probably no more or less acute than yours or anybody elses, because I don't have the luxury of taking them for granted I'm probably somewhat more attuned to what they're telling me from one moment to the next." She explained, pausing a moment to gauge how Mrs. Brisbee would react. Sensing nothing, she continued. "Ever since we met I've been perceiving a certain tension from you whenever my brother is nearby." She said, carefully measuring her words. Again she paused and waited.
"Go on." Mrs. Brisbee said after several uneasy seconds.
"Well, I'm just not sure what to make of it." Linnette said cautiously. "The love that I hear in your voice as you speak of him when he's not around is quite obvious. But when he is present, there's something else in your voice..." She thought hard for a moment, searching for the right word. "...a sadness I guess, as if you were about to cry and trying to hold it in."
Linnette was surprised to hear a small sob from where Mrs. Brisbee was sitting. "Marian, are you alright?" She asked, suddenly alarmed. Maybe this hadn't been such a good time to bring this subject up after all, she thought to herself.
"I'm...I'm fine." Mrs. Brisbee said in a choked whisper.
"Are you sure?" Linnette asked with concern. "I didn't mean to offend you or pry into any sensitive matters between you and Justin." She said apologetically.
"No." Mrs. Brisbee said, wiping away a tear. "You're right about Justin and me." She whispered, her voice hollow as if her emotion had suddenly been drained from her.
"If you want to tell me about it, I'm here to listen." Linnette offered, placing her cup and saucer on the table in front of her.
Mrs. Brisbee then took the older vixen's paws in her's. "When Justin helped us escape from the City after Jonathan and King Nicodemus's death," She said, "I wasn't sure what I thought about him; I mean I was grateful that he cared about us enough to risk his life for us, but I don't think that the reality of the situation had sunk in just yet and after a night of crying I thought I had put my feelings about Jonathan into the back of my mind so that I could concentrate on the survival of the children. But while we were taking refuge at Dr. Ages house and I began to realize that Jonathan wasn't coming back to us, I found myself worrying more and more about him as the weeks passed. When he showed up suddenly, only to tell me that he had to leave again, it brought back all those feelings that I thought I'd buried deep inside. And when we discovered his true ancestry and relation to Jonathan, I knew that I did indeed love him with much the same desire that I had loved my dear husband. We even walked to his secret spot in the creek and...and..."
Linnette laid Mrs. Brisbee's head in her lap and began gently stroking the fur of her cheek as the younger vixen was wracked by sobbing. "I believe I understand." She said quietly. "You feel that in a moment of weakness you may have betrayed your husband's memory."
Mrs. Brisbee nodded, gripping part of Linnette's nightgown in one paw.
Linnette helped Mrs. Brisbee back to a sitting position and embraced her in a warm, comforting, sisterly hug. "Marian," She said, "Sharing that moment of intimacy with Justin wasn't a betrayal. You both needed each other at that particular time and in that particular place. Would Jonathan have approved? I can't answer that with a-hundred-percent certainty, but deep down I think that he would, at the very least, have understood how the circumstances of the moment would have led you and Justin to seek that kind of release in each other's company. Just because you love Justin now, that doesn't mean that you'll forget what Jonathan still means to you; infact, it'll probably help you treasure both of them even more."
Mrs. Brisbee sniffed back her tears and slumped, exhausted, onto the couch. "Perhaps...perhaps you're right." She whispered softly. "There are times when I think I would have given up on my life months ago if I hadn't had my thoughts of the good times that Jonathan and I shared together, the hope that Justin has instilled within me and the presence of my childrenwho love and need me to get me through the hard times."
"Well now you have me and Galen to help as well. And since Justin looks to my husband as he would an older brother, I see no reason why you shouldn't look to me as you would an older sister." Linnette said happily.
Mrs. Brisbee smiled. "Thank you, Linney. I will." She said warmly.
Linnette then yawned and shivered slightly. "I think we'd better get ourselves to bed." She said. "Until that kitchen wall's fixed we're gonna have plenty more cold nights like this one."
Mrs. Brisbee made known her agreement and, after they quickly finished the dregs of the tea; led Linnette back to the apartment that she and Galen occupied; and then quickly made her way to the room she shared with Justin, extinguished the candle she'd used to light her way, and crawled into his bed, letting their mutual warmth lull her to sleep.
Chapter Fifty-Two
A light dusting of snow on Autumn's fallen leaves heralded the coming of Winter to Nottinghamshire and Sherwood Forest.
Lady Kluck nervously made her way along the dark, forboding path that led to the recently abandoned town. It had been a little less than an hour since she'd bade farewell to Marian Brisbee and the children of the nursery. But this mission to visit the new Sheriff, and if possible find out what his plans for the townfolk were, was extremely important to the survival of the just-formed Nottingham Organization. The night before, their leader; the dashing young Captain Locksley ("Och, were Ah bu' thirty years younger!" She'd thought to herself when she'd first laid eyes on him when he'd appeared at the Frasier house just days before.); had tried hard to talk her out of taking on the assignment. For Kluck did indeed remember the ill-mannered young wolf who was now apparently the Law in Nottingham. Not a few times had she caught the young knave skulking about the castle pretending to be on guard-duty or some other such fiction, but when she'd summoned one of his superiors to confirm whatever story he'd tried to foist on her it usually ended with the little trouble-maker either recieving no more than the proverbial slap on-the-wrist or getting away with it scot-free (An ironic phrase whose use she'd never particularly approved of); no doubt because of his close friendship with the then Prince Regent. Would Sullivan remember her? The thought had indeed occured to her even as she'd spoken those fateful words volunteering to undertake the task on whose path she was presently set. But undertake it she would, for it was much too late to back out now.
So engrossed in her thoughts she'd been that she almost didn't hear the rustle of leaves just behind her. She turned, not too quickly so as not to seem too agressive to whoever it might be, and found herself face-to-face with a young narrow-eyed lynx. He was a good deal taller than her (but then so was just about every other animal she knew) and wore several bandages on his lithe body, the largest covering a damaged ear. Ominously, He also held a drawn sword. "Och, laddie! Pu' tha' thing away 'fore y' hurts y'urself 'r somebody else!" She commanded indignantly, quickly regaining her voice as well as her courtly bearing.
Nonplussed, the lynx took a step backward; as if forced to do so by the sheer will of Kluck's voice. He then examined her intently for several seconds before asking, "Who are you? And what is your business here?"
Kluck gathered the folds of her cloak about her and stated, in her most regal manner, "I'm Lady Euphigenia Kluck; former Administrator-of-Household to His Majesty, King Nicodemus o' th' House PenWallace; and Ah wish t' speak wi' th' Sheriff o' th' Shire immediately." As a calculated insult, she nonchalantly added, "Y' have my permission to grace him wi' my presence."
The lynx raised a skeptical eyebrow at her as if she'd lost her mind. To his knowledge there WAS no more court, King Jenner having imprisoned the vast majority of the traitors who had conspired against him and his beloved brother and freeing the concubines that they'd enslaved for their pleasure in the late King's name. Obviously the "Lady" was a looney, but since she seemed harmless enough he decided to take this self-deluded old biddy to the Sheriff; even if it was just for a laugh. "Alright," He said as he sheathed his weapon, "Follow me." He then walked past her, not bothering to otherwise acknowledge her presence, and set a brisk pace for the town.
A short while later they arrived at their destination and the lynx took Kluck to the municipal gaol, where he led her to Sullivan's office and told her to wait until his return. He then walked to the now-abandoned Public House. Inside, Blackjack had apparently drawn the day's barkeeping duty; as he wore an apron and was drying a stout-glass; and was only half listening as the Sheriff reeled off a tale of his past battlefield prowess. "Um, Sheriff, sir..." The lynx began.
Sullivan sighed irritatedly at the interruption. "Yes, Deputy...Sillus?" He asked.
The lynx nodded obediently.
"What can I do for you?" He queried, then noticed the bandaged ear. "I trust you're healing well?"
"Yessir." Sillus replied. "But that's not why I'm here, sir. There's some old hen in your office demanding to speak with you..."
Sullivan waved a dismissive paw. "Tell her to come back later. We don't have the time or personnel to deal with petty crimes at the moment." He sneered.
"I don't think she wants to see you about anything like that." Sillus said, puzzlement evident in his voice. "She said her name was 'Lady' something-or-other...Gluck, or Clunk or..."
"Kluck!" Sullivan whispered with something close to sheer horror in his voice.
"Yessir, that's it." Sillus said. He then noticed the stricken expression on Sullivan's face. "Um, do you know her, sir?" He inquired.
Sullivan visibly shivered as his mind flooded with memories of her, the one member of the royal court he'd never managed to deceive no matter how hard he'd tried; and the spirits knew he'd tried hard enough! It seemed that no matter how long he'd planned something tricky or dishonest or both; whether it was the attempted theft of some Lady-of-the-Court's expensive trinket, or trying to cheat school by breaking into the desk of one of the teachers and trying to copy the answers to one of the more difficult tests so that he would have the advantage over his fellow recruits; she somehow, some-damn-how ALWAYS KNEW what he was up to! At first he'd suspected that little goody-goody twerp Justin of being the snitch who was turning him in and, of course, Justin had suffered more than his share of bruises when the Training Sergeant wasn't around. But even when he'd made sure to keep his bragging tongue still; inevitably, somehow, SHE KNEW!
And now SHE was here in Nottingham.
Sullivan groaned as he felt a massive headache, triggered by the sudden involuntary contraction of the muscular ruff at the back of his neck, spread through his skull.
"Are you all right, sir?" Sillus asked in a concerned voice as the Sheriff of Nottinghamshire slumped against the bar and laid his head on it, covering his face with his arms.
"Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine. Just gimme a minute." Sullivan's muffled voice answered without enthusiasm. A few moments later, he slowly lifted his head and sighed wearily. "C'mon, Deputy," He said. "Let's see what torments the old bird has in store for me today."
Sillus followed as Sullivan less-than-resolutely made his way to the gaol, muttering curses under his breath. When they entered the Sheriff's office, Kluck was seated primly on the chair facing his paper-and-parchment-littered desk, her expression stern but giving nothing away. Sullivan was about to dismiss the Deputy; but decided not to, reasoning that he would more than likely want someone present to restrain him from strangling the old witch when the inevitable verbal fireworks started.
As he entered the room the temperature seemed to drop perceptibly, if such a thing was possible seeing as how there was a roaring fire in the hearth in the office of the Deputy-in-Charge right outside, as Kluck fixed him with a cold, forbidding stare. He sat down at his desk and motioned for Sillus to stand behind him and, ignoring his discomfort and trying to sound as polite as possible, he asked, "How may I help you, M'Lady?"
"I'll ge' t' th' point, Sheriff." She said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she emphasized his title. "I've been asked to represent the townfolk an' farmers o' Nott'n'am..." Sullivan attempted to speak, but Kluck held up a defiant wing to stop him. "They wish t' make knoon their displeasure tha' their lands an' hooms ha' been illegaly taken from them by your boss, King Jenner." She stated. "Ah must confess tha' Ah believe they have a good case."
Sullivan shrugged. "His Majesty obviously disagrees. He believes that a single owner, The Crown, can manage and use both the land and what's on it far more efficiently than a patchwork of landholders; who, by the way, often leave lands fallow when they could be used to grow more needed food for those who often have no idea where their next meal is coming from. He only wants to do what he believes is best for his subjects." He explained.
Kluck regarded Sullivan with a look of something between pity and outright contempt. "Coom nouw, laddie. Ah know y' too well t' swallow tha' load o' stale fertilizer. Remember, Ah also knew Jenner when 'e was nothin' bu' a thievin' snotnose brat like yourself..." Sullivan had been growing visibly more angry and flinched at this remark, but said nothing. "...An' Ah know all too well tha' Jenner has nay room in his heart for ennuthun' bu' Jenner; a fact, booy th' way, tha' yoo'd d' well t' remember if yoo've an oonce o' brains in tha' thick skull o' yours." She said.
Sullivan could hold his temper no longer. "Who the HELL d'you think you are?" He exploded, standing and knocking his chair back so violently that his stunned Deputy only barely was able to grab it before it fell to the floor. He then angrily swiped the litter off the desk and leaned over, meeting his old nemesis nose-to-beak. "You have NO right to judge me OR His Majesty!" He screamed.
"Doon't Ah?" The hen squawked back just as loudly and angrily. "Ah can't coont th' noomber o' toims tha' Ah caught one 'r booth o' you makin' some koynd o' mischief in me castle! Luckily Ah was able t' keep a sharp eye out for your tricks before you brought the whole buildin' doon aroond our ears." Kluck then noticed the beginnings of a smile coming to Deputy Sillus's mouth. Apparently Sullivan noticed it too and turned and shot a withering glare at the hapless lynx, who tried with only a small amount of success to assume a more neutral expression.
The wolf angrily snatched his chair from Sillus and resumed his seat. "Look lady," He said in a disgusted tone of voice. "Much as I'm sure you'd just love to keep verbally clubbing me over the head with my past, I'm sure that there's got to be some other reason you've chosen to inflict yourself on me."
"You're royt, laddie, there is." Kluck said, holding him in an icy and unblinking gaze. "The touwn an' farmfolk o' the Shire want t' know if ye intend t' enforce Jenner's Repossession Decree."
"Of course I do!" Sullivan blurted. "It's the law!
"Ah thought so." Kluck said matter-of-factly. "Then I'm afraid Ah must inform ye tha' th' good folk o' Nott'n'am are prepared t' stay in th' Forest until Jenner either relinquishes th' Crown 'r he's forced off th' Throne. An' Ah warn ye, laddie, it won't go well f'r those who ally themselves wi' him."
Sullivan leaned forward in his chair as his ears pricked up. "You'd better be careful there, sister!" He intoned sharply. "You're no more than a word away from a charge of treason to the Crown!" He then brought the edge of his flattened paw squarely down on the desk. "And that's a crime punishable by death!" He reminded her.
Kluck met his gaze without the slightest hint of fear. "It's nay more treasonous th'n Jenner's murd'rin' his own brother an' takin' th' Crown." She stated impassively.
Sullivan jumped back in his seat as if slammed there by the weight of her words. He'd known from the beginning of this conversation (to use the term quite loosely) that she probably knew a fair amount about the present political situation. But only he, Jenner and a very few others actually knew for a fact that Jenner had actually plotted and; with the help of those few others, whose movements could be accounted for at all times; perpetrated the deed. Unfortunately, Sullivan had no way of knowing; or even guessing; how Kluck could have known of this or whether, possibly, she was just bluffing him to get him to unwittingly reveal information. Or was there? "I'm sorry," He said innocently, regaining his composure as quickly as possible. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Kluck narrowed her already suspicious gaze. It was really no trick to figure out when Sullivan was lying through his teeth to her. She'd learned long ago that the wolf, as well as Jenner, were inveterate deceivers and that once you knew what to look for, their subterfuges were utterly transparent and easily detectable. And right now, the air reeked of deception. "Y' c'n lie t' yourself, laddie," She warned him in an ominous half-whisper. "An' y' c'n lie t' your Deputies if ye want, tha's on YOUR head." She then sighed and her voice became heavy with a certain sadness. "Bu' doon't lie t' me an' the folk o' Nott'n'am." She told him.
"Damn, she's good!" Sullivan thought, mentally kicking himself as he fought to keep from averting his eyes from her relentless stare. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever." He said as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. This conversation was moving to an area that he'd just as soon not go into and he decided that the sooner it ended and the sooner this old witch hopped her broom and lit outta town, the happier he'd be. "Look, lady, I've got a town, such as it is, to run; so if you'll just tell the residents to come on back, we'll forget that this whole thing ever happened and we can all get back to our lives. Whadduya say, huh?" He asked, putting on an air of injured innocence.
Kluck stood and pointed an accusitory wing at him. "You, sir, are either willfully blind 'r just plain stupid; Ah canna decide which." She stated. "Bu' I'll tell y' roight now tha' so long as Jenner wears the Crown an' you represent him ye'll no' see hide nor hair o' th' good folk o' Nott'n'am. An' while this mayn't matter durin' th' present season, come Spring plantin' toim Ah have th' feelin' tha' Jenner's goin' t' be none too happy when his richest plumb's nothin' bu' a dry, dead prune because there's nay'un t' sow an' harvest th' crops." She then turned and resolutely barged out of the Sheriff's office.
Sullivan quickly followed. "Hey, waitaminnit!" He called to her; but she showed no sign that she'd heard him. He caught up with her, closely followed by Deputy Sillus, and grabbed her by one wing.
She stared, thunder-struck, first at his paw on her wing, as if the limb were a sacred thing violated by his unclean touch, then into his black, soulless eyes. "Unpaw me y' rogue," She hissed angrily, "'Fore Ah peck those beady little eyes oot!"
Sullivan hastily complied, not doubting for a moment that the hen was as good as her word. "Before you go," He said sharply, "I wanna know who's responsible for inciting the town and farmfolk to rebellion against His Majesty, since you're obviously nothing more than their mouthpiece."
Kluck fixed the wolf in an irate stare but this changed to a knowing half-smile. "Th' responsibility f'r incitin' rebellion rests squarely on Jenner's head." She said. "Bu' their leader is willin' t' meet wi' y' day-after-'morrow at th' cottage in th' Heath joost Nor' o' here. Bu' be warned, laddie, "She continued, her voice low and menacing, "He knows all your tricks an'll be ready f'r enna traps y' mi' try t' set. Y' c'n bring two unarmed Deputies wi' y', bu' nay more 'r th' meet'n's off. Understand?"
Sullivan hesitated for several seconds. While he was desperately curious to know who could possibly have enough influence over the animals of Nottingham to make them risk their homes and livelihoods in order to defy their King, he was also (not that he would have admitted it to himself, or anyone else for that matter) scared out of his hide at the thought that what he'd first thought to be a simple rabble might actually turn out to be an organized rebellion. He knew that Jenner would have a fit when he realized that somewhere, someone was making plans to deprive him of his Crown and Throne; and that he, Sullivan, was responsible for making sure that it didn't happen on his watch.
But Sullivan also knew that; somehow, sooner or later; Jenner would have to be removed from the Throne or a civil war was all but inevitable. That his dilemma was an unholy amalgamation of choices and events of his own making as well as events over which he had no control served only to make an already fierce headache even worse; but he was no closer to any kind of workable solution.
"Alright," He growled, rubbing agitatedly at the fur at the back of his neck. "We'll play it by your rules just this once. Me an' two Deputies, alone an' unarmed, at the house in the Heath at sunrise, day-after-tomorrow. Is this acceptable?"
Kluck nodded.
"Fine." Sullivan said dejectedly and pointed toward a stand of trees marking the edge of Sherwood Forest. "Now haul your tailfeathers outta my town before I have you arrested for loitering or whatever other charges I can think of."
Kluck wordlessly turned her back on the Sheriff and his Deputy and was soon out of sight.
"Tough old bird, ain't she." Observed Blackjack, who was just walking up to join his colleagues, a full stout-glass in one paw.
"No kidding." Sullivan growled sarcastically.
The ferret gave the wolf the container. "I thought you might need this after all the guff she was givin' you. I'm in if you want me." He said.
Sullivan drained the glass and wiped his muzzle with the back of his paw. "For the meeting? No," He said, giving the glass back. "I'll take one of the other Deputies." He then stared toward the forest as a humorless smirk came to his lips, his headache fading as a plan started to form in his mind. "I'll need you for a much more important task."
Chapter Fifty-Six
"Good, Mr. Stabb, now go on to the next one."
"Oh geez, Doc, how much more o' this do I gotta do?"
Dr. Ages pointed to the page of the book that lay open in Ezekiel Stabb's lap. "You'll do as much as it takes until you know how to read and write better than you do now." He said firmly. "You asked me for my help and I'm giving it to you. I can either tutor you privately, or you can attend classes with the children..." Stabb winced in embarrassment. "...and we can then continue when you've reached a proper level of education. Either way, my time is precious and can ill-afford to be wasted."
"Alright, alright." Stabb said glumly. He then began reading a lesson from one of the school primers that the Waning-Crescent Clan weasels had brought with them when they had left Nottingham.
Meanwhile; Justin, Brutus and Jeremy were meeting Justin's office.
"Then you'll go?" Brutus asked.
"Yeah, sure. Why not?" Jeremy replied nonchalantly.
"Just remember," Justin warned the rooster, "This mission is not only very important, it could also be extremely dangerous. We need all the help we can get from others who're willing to help us overthrow Jenner. Your job is to get the word to them about who we are and point them in our direction. The problem's going to be that Jenner pretty much owns the loyalty of most of the other Sheriff's and you could get nabbed for anything from vagrancy to no reason at all."
Jeremy shrugged. "What's the worst that they can do to me?" He asked sarcastically. "Burn me? Toss me into a mudpit?" Brutus winced at this second question but said nothing in his own defense.
"They could torture or KILL you." Justin replied sharply.
Jeremy shrugged again. "They could do that to ANY of us." The rooster stated calmly. "There's just a lot less likelihood of that happening to me because no one can connect me to you or Mrs. B. or to this organization."
Justin nodded. "That's why we're asking. This isn't the sort of thing that I can, in good conscience, order someone who's been through what you've been through to do." He said, his voice somewhat strained.
A mirthless smile came to Jeremy's bill. "Don't worry, Captain," He said with a voice as hard as the look in his eyes. "My injuries healed a long time ago."
"The physical ones, maybe," Justin worriedly thought to himself, "But I can only wonder how bad the emotional ones are." Marian had earlier confided to him her observations about the rooster's rather dramatic change of personality and it had not entirely escaped his notice either. And after the incident with Brutus two days before, Justin was worried that his friend might be coming unglued by this whole affair. So, in secret, He and Brutus had met the night before and decided, and Dr. Ages had reluctantly agreed, that Jeremy needed a "cooling off" period away from the eye of the coming storm. Ages had suggested that Jeremy be sent to his family's care until Jenner was deposed, but Justin knew that the rooster would have balked at such an obvious attempt at coddling him. So he and the other two had worked out the plan that they had just laid out for the sometime minstrel. "Alright, would you be willing to leave today?" He asked.
"Sure, no problem." The rooster replied confidently. "Just lemme say a few 'goodbyes' an' I'm outta here."
Justin nodded and Jeremy quickly stepped out the door. A moment later, Justin slumped dejectedly in his chair. "The spirits forgive me for doing that to him, 'cause if he ever discovers the REAL reason we're sending him on this excursion HE sure as Hell won't." He stated sadly.
Brutus maintained a carefully neutral expression and tone as he said, "Believe me, Jeremy O'Dale is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But his hatred for both Jenner and Sullivan puts us, and most of all him, in danger if he should, at some point, try to kill either of them before the Nottingham Organization is fully prepared to fight. Hopefully, this 'excursion' will give him some time to get a handle on his anger. Also, it'll give him a sense that he's still serving the Organization even as it keeps him out of harm's way."
"And you out of his." Justin said, his tone of voice a bit more sarcastic than was probably called for.
The former Sheriff arched an eyebrow and said, "We had a talk and all is forgiven. I even offered him a job as part of the security contingent, but he says he doesn't want to be tied down." The bear sighed and continued. "He's really not a bad fellow, but I'm afraid that his desire for revenge; and the spirits know he didn't deserve the suffering he went through; will cause both him and us more harm than good, at least in the short run.
"But what makes you think that he won't just go after Sullivan or Jenner the moment he steps off the Estate?" Justin inquired skeptically.
Brutus shrugged his massive shoulders as if he were carrying the weight of the world on them. "I don't know that he won't." He conceded. "But I think that deep down he knows that he'll get his chance at them eventually and I'm willing to trust that he'll do what's best for both himself and the Nottingham Organization, however long it may take." He said.
Justin's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth to say something but there came a knock at the door. "Come." He said.
The door swung open and in walked Martin Brisbee and Declan Wyclyffe; the former looking hesitant and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, while the latter had a look of fierce determination in his large, dark eyes.
Justin and Brutus exchanged a quick questioning glance. "Something I can help you two with?" The fox asked in a polite-but-businesslike tone.
The hare stepped forward and, with a somewhat clumsy; to Justin's experienced eyes at least; salute said, "Sir, permission to address the Captain and the Sheriff!"
Martin, clearly embarrassed by his associate's behavior, rolled his eyes and tried hard not to be noticed by his Uncle; a feat at which he knew he was failing quite dismally.
Out of the corner of his eye, Justin could see the very beginnings of a smirk coming to the Brutus's face. He shot a quick "Do-you-mind?" frown at the former Sheriff, then turned his attention to the young boys standing in front of him. "You have OUR permission. You can also relax if you'd like; this isn't a military dictatorship." He said evenly.
The young hare's tension drained somewhat, but not completely, and he remained stiffly at attention; or at least his best facsimile thereof. "Captain Locksley, Sir..." He began.
"Justin." The fox said.
"Sir?" The hare asked, a bit flustered by the interruption.
An easy smile came to the fox's face. "I don't mind if you call me 'Justin'. In fact, I'd prefer that you do so." He said.
"Um...Okay...Justin." The hare began hesitantly, "I've come to ask for permission to join the Nottingham Organization." He said.
Justin gave him a quizzical look. "But you're already a member." He stated.
"No Sir, Ca...I mean Justin!" The hare corrected himself. "I wish to help fight Jenner by becoming a soldier and taking arms against him." He said.
Justin raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? I seem to remember that you didn't fare too well the last time you met up with one of the Sheriff's Deputys." He observed pointedly. "What makes you believe that you'd make decent soldier material?" He challenged.
Declan was shocked by Justin's sudden change of attitude. Just yesterday the fox had made a gloriously inspiring speech that had sent the young hare's blood to a passionate boil. He hated the kind of evil and greed that Jenner had embraced and wanted nothing more in life at the moment than to fight the threat against his family and friends that he felt the disgraced King now represented. "That fake took me by surprise!" He spat contemptuously. "But I gave him scars of his own to remember me by!" His eyes were now blazing with a strange fire somewhere between outright rage and unrestrained joy. "He'll not be so quick to take me on again, I'll wager!" He stated confidently.
Justin was anything but convinced. While he could understand the youngster's enthusiasm in wanting to get rid of Jenner and wishing to be a part of the effort, and even halfway understanding the hare's desire, foolish though it may have been, to be a part of the actual fight (Justin had, after all, heard plenty of stories about the ancient Knights in his own youth and had been drawn to their excitement as well), he was also all-too-keenly aware that this child's (for that's exactly what Declan was, whether he wanted to admit it or not!) safety was HIS personal responsibility and a thing to be guarded at all cost. He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, son. While it's true that we need all the help we can muster, I don't want to be worrying about a youngster like you when I need to be focused on the battles ahead. Maybe when you're older you'll understand why I must refuse your request, but refuse it I must." He said flatly.
Declan would hear none of this. "You LIAR!" He hissed at the fox, tears brimming from his eyes. Martin stepped back, a gasp of horror escaping from his open mouth "How DARE you use all those pretty words to plant a dream in our hearts! But when someone like me comes along of his own will wishing to help, you crush that dream like a flower that's only just begun to bud!" He cried.
Brutus began to rise from his chair, his face a mask of anger and his eyes bright with rage. "Why you little..."
Justin shot a restraining paw toward the bear as his eyes narrowed and focused on Declan; who, unblinking, returned his angry glare.
After an eternity of several moments, a hard, cold smile came_ _to Justin's lips. "Fine." He said bitterly. "You've proved your point, even if it is a very foolish one." He sighed again and turned his attention to his older nephew. "What about you, Martin? Are you here to join and hopefully die a Glorious and Honorable Death as well?" He asked, the sarcastic edge clear in his voice.
"Martin's not to blame for bringing me here!" The hare protested. "I asked him to bring me because I knew that you'd not see me otherwise!"
A warning glance from Justin silenced the hare's remonstration.
Martin gulped down his fear. "I-I want to help too, sir, if I can." He stated hesitantly.
Justin cast a stern glance at Declan. "Alright," He finally said. "I'll have a talk with your parents tonight and if, but ONLY if, I get their written permission will I consider creating some sort of youth auxiliary that you can join." To Martin he said, "I'll have a talk with your mother as well and see what she thinks." He then quickly dismissed the two boys, brushing off Declan's attempts to thank him. "Don't thank me just yet!" He warned the hare. "This isn't a done-deal by any means!"
After the two youths had left the office and Justin shut the door, Brutus shook his head in amazement. "The NERVE of that kid!" He exclaimed. "I shoulda taken him over my knee!"
Justin smiled a bit. "Don't think I wasn't tempted, my friend. But somehow I rather doubt that it would have done any good." He then began pacing the floor. "A decade ago and in similar circumstances that would have been me standing there demanding the same thing. Of course," He said ruefully, "I would probably actually have gotten the job because at his age I was already bright, ambitious..."
"Not to mention modest." Brutus interjected sarcastically.
"That too." Justin said without missing a beat. "My point is that I can understand his point of view. Hero worship has an almost magnetic attraction on boys their age. Didn't we all want to rescue some fair damsel in distress or slay an evil dragon?" He asked.
Brutus shrugged. "Sure. But then we grew up and got some sense put into our heads by those who knew better." He said pointedly.
"Exactly." Justin said, freezing in his tracks as a knowing smile crept onto his face. "And I have just the teacher in mind for them! Come with me!" He exclaimed as he threw open his office door and dashed into the hall.
With a flustered Brutus close behind him Justin double-timed to the room that Dr. Ages and Ezekiel Stabb occupied.
He pounded excitedly on the door.
"What IS it?" The perpetually irritated voice of the old badger demanded. "We're trying to study!"
"Open the door you old goat! I need to talk to Mr. Stabb!" Justin shouted, a merry grin on his face.
Several minutes later, after explaining what had just transpired to Stabb and Ages, Justin told Stabb his plan for the hare and his nephew.
With a look of utter perplexion, Stabb shook his head and asked, "Now lemme get this straight. You want ME to teach a couple o' kids the dirty art of mortal combat?"
Justin nodded.
"Sir, if I may be so bold," Stabb said, looking at the fox as if he'd just been told to jump to his death from a cliff. "I think this 'leader' thing's driven you stark staring insane."
To everyone's surprise, Justin burst out laughing. "Perhaps you're right, Mr. Stabb." He said. Then his face and voice became serious once again. "But those two, especially the young and eager Mr. Wyclyffe, need to be shown that what we're attempting to do here will have some very serious consequences; and since you seem to have both dealt out and been dealt more than your share in the 'consequences' department, I think that it's only right that they be made to benefit from your vast repertoire of experiences both good AND bad." He stated.
Stabb closed his eyes and thought hard for several moments. He remembered his many conversations with Will Scarlet and Heather Kilcannon; about his sordid, mercenary past and how much he wished he could escape it; while they searched for Justin to join his fight against Jenner's tyranny. He'd made the decision, not without a certain sadness, to hang up his sword and instead use his mind as the weapon with which he would help to end Britain's present curse. He opened his eyes again and leveled an almost defiant gaze at Justin. "No Sir. I'm afraid I won't be able t' help you. My fightin' days 're behind me. I'll help you an' Colonel Talbot plot out tactics an' troop positions an' train the army we're gonna need to throw Jenner an' his bunch off th' throne; but I'm not gonna play the bully t' a pair o' kids because you want 'em to learn a lesson th' hard way." He stated quietly.
A flash of anger appeared for the merest instant in Justin's eyes, but disappeared as he said with a nervous laugh, "Bully? Who said anything about bullying anyone?" He paused for a second to gather his thoughts, then continued. "I just want someone with your kind of experience to help them learn that there's no glory in dying when you have your whole life ahead of you, even for a cause as worthy as this one."
Stabb's eyes hardened. "Alright," he said, his voice deliberate and with a chill edge of skepticism. "I guess I'll have to accept that line of reasoning. But I get to teach them MY way an' it'd better not interfere with my lessons."
"Fine. We can work out a schedule later." Justin hastily replied.
Stabb cooly nodded his affirmation and stalked back into the study room.
Ages glared at Justin through narrowed eyes.
Justin noticed this immediately. "What!" He exclaimed, his discomfiture evident.
"Have you no shame? You had no right to try and trick Mr. Stabb into doing your dirty work like that!" Ages scolded him angrily.
"But I wasn't...!" Justin tried to interject.
Ages pointed a warning finger in the fox's face. "Yes--you were!" He stated emphatically. In a milder, almost consoling tone he continued, "Look, I can understand your wanting to keep a pair of lads like Declan and your nephew as far from harm's way as possible. But by simple virtue of their being here they ARE in danger, and nothing you say or do; short of permanently locking them in the nursery or sending them away somewhere, can change that fact. I have no doubt that, in time, young Mr. Wyclyffe will come to see the folly of this lust for glory; but consider too that perhaps he and Martin will also learn a thing or two about such presently under-utilized concepts as Dicipline, Duty and Honor. And wouldn't Jonathan have taught his own sons about such things? As bad as the memories of the first years of Military life probably are for you, punishing Declan and Martin and making Mr. Stabb the fall-guy is hardly the way to instill such lessons." His voice then lowered to an angry, accusatory half-whisper. "I'd EXPECT that kind of behavior from the likes of Jenner or Sullivan, but NOT from you! You're BETTER than that!"
Thoroughly chastened, Justin meekly bowed his head as a tear rolled from one eye and down his cheek. "You're right," He whispered hoarsely. "I guess I was trying to put the responsibility for their safety on someone else so I wouldn't have to face it myself. Some "leader" I've turned out to be, huh?" He asked bitterly.
Ages shrugged. "You made a mistake. And, as you so astutely pointed out to Mr. Baylor yesterday, you'll probably make plenty more before this whole sad affair is over with. It's our duty as your friends to, as you yourself said, keep you humble." He stated.
A tight, sad smile came to Justin's lips. "Consider me well-humbled, old friend." He told the badger. He then turned to the bear. "C'mon, Brutus, we'd better leave these two alone and make preparations for the verbal fireworks that Marian and the Wyclyffe's are sure to shower on us when we try to recruit their sons." He said with resignation as they started back to his office.
Meanwhile, Jeremy was walking through the small ersatz village that surrounded Locksley Manor toward one of the paths that led through Sherwood Forest. Slung over his back was Will Scarlet's seabag/knapsack, filled with various provisions, and his crossbow and quiver, stuffed with freshly-fletched bolts.
"Mr. Jeremy!" A distinctive, lilting voice called after him.
Jeremy continued walking, his face set in a determined scowl. He'd said more than his share of goodbyes and shed more than his share of tears, now hidden beneath the brim of his peasant hat, than could reasonably have been expected of someone of his usually jolly nature. But while part of him knew that Justin and Brutus were probably doing what they believed to be the right thing in sending him away; another, angrier, part knew that they wanted him away from the Estate because of the recent significant change in his behavior. He also knew, deep down, that they were quite right to worry. Every time little Timmy or Cynthia had had one of their nightmares, he would secretly cry inside in sympathy because of the awful nightmares that he too was having. It irked him to no end that he was being asked to postpone his revenge on the reasons for those nightmares. Before his involvement with Mrs. Brisbee, her children and Justin and the fire that had almost cost him his life; he'd been care-free and more than a little self-centered. But now he was part of a cause. A small part to be sure, but a part nonetheless. For the Cause, he could wait as patiently as he had to; but his moment of revenge WOULD come.
"Mr. Jeremy, please wait up!" The voice called again, this time slightly breathless with exertion.
Jeremy glanced back a moment. Jogging toward him on the narrow paths between the various tents and shacks being used as housing was young Heather; wearing a beautiful long peasant-style dress, long-sleeved blouse and brocaded jacket. He slowed his pace a bit, but continued on toward the path.
The skunk caught up with him just as he was about to enter the treeline. "Please, Mr. Jeremy, may I speak wi' ye f'r but a moment?" She asked.
Jeremy stopped and shrugged. "Alright, but this better not take too long. I'm on a very important assignment for our beloved leader." He sighed, not bothering to hide the resentment in his voice.
If the skunk had detected his simmering anger she gave no indication. "I was wonderin' if ye'd do me a small favor if it dinna take ye too far out o' your way?" She asked.
He shrugged again, "Yeah, I suppose so." He said unenthusastically.
Heather tried to give him a pair of parchment envelopes tied together with some string. "Please take these t' a weasel named Cecil Stabb. He lives in Tywyn, Wales. It's on the coast." She said.
Jeremy looked dubious. "Wales, huh?"
"Please, Mr. Jeremy." She implored, her eyes brightening with tears. "I've no' been able to tell me father where I am for months! He must be desperately worried! He may even think I'm dead!" She then turned away and began sobbing into her paws.
Jeremy averted his eyes too, remembering how much he had sometimes missed his own family during his life as a wandering minstrel. It was a life he knew he could not live again until he had cast out the demons that haunted his sleep. He swallowed nervously and gently laid a wing on her shoulder. "I'll make sure that those get where they're supposed to go." He said quietly.
Heather gave him the letters and thanked him with a silent, affectionate hug.
Without another word, Jeremy quickly turned and began the errand on which he'd been sent; one last tear falling from his eyes.
Heather stood at the entrance to the forest until the rooster's dark form blended into the dark chaos of bare branches and mostly-melted snow and disappeared. She then turned and walked, her head bowed in sadness, along the edge of the treeline. Even as withdrawn into herself as she was, her thoughts were for animals who, like poor Jeremy, had had their lives ruined or disrupted by this persecution that neither she nor they could even begin to understand. Her own family, while of admittedly modest means, was quite happy in their chosen vocation. What little she knew of the evils of the world beyond Dublintown she'd learned from her grandfather's few rarely-told stories of his service as a Medic in the Plague Camps when he was young, a subject that he'd been understandably reluctant to delve into very often. But this past Summer and Autumn she'd been forced to look Evil square in the eye and it was beginning to take every spare ounce of her increasingly fragile will not to blink. She knew that she needed some kind of contact with her family if she was to have any strength at all for the trials that she knew were to come.
When she was snapped back to reality, Heather realized that she had walked about half the diameter of the Estate's forest border. Approaching from one of the paths leading to the town of Nottingham was Lady Kluck. The hen waved a quick greeting to her but continued toward the manor-house, the grim expression on her face an omen that bad times were fast approaching.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Along with Lady Kluck's expected bad news, Justin recieved a piece of good news that day. Galen happily reported that the breach in the kitchen wall was now completely sealed and, once the mortar was dry, would be as strong as when the manor-house had originally been constructed.
"Great!" He exclaimed, "Now I won't wake up with icicles hanging from my nose every morning!"
After he and Brutus had cleared away the day's paperwork, they silently walked to the room to which the Wyclyffe family had been assigned. Justin stopped and raised his paw to knock on the door, but hesitated for a moment.
"Gotta face the music sometime, pal." The bear commented lamely.
Justin chuckled humorlessly. "I can't believe I let that kid talk me into this!" He growled, as much to himself as to Brutus. He then rapped on the heavy door. Inside, a high, female voice was heard; then the sound of feet padding quickly toward the door.
It was opened by a young female hare, whom Justin recognized as one of Declan's many sisters; although he was at a loss to remember her name or her place in the family's chronological pecking order. "Oh! Hi!" She said brightly. She then turned and announced, "Daddy, Captain Locksley an' Sheriff Brutus're here!"
"Well don't just keep them standing there, darling, invite 'em inside!" Liam's amused sounding voice replied.
The young hare then flung the door the rest of the way open. "Daddy says to come on in!" She said. Then, as an afterthought she added, "My name's Gwynnyth, but everybody calls me 'Gwynnie'; except Daddy. He calls me 'Darling'."
Justin smiled and knelt down, placing a reassuring paw on the girl's shoulder. "And it certainly fits you my dear!" He said jauntily.
Somewhat embarrassed, the hare then led Justin and Brutus to an larger ajoining room. Seated on the floor were Liam and Sian, with children of various ages and both genders scattered about the room. Also seated were Marian and her children, Dr. Ages, Mr. Stabb, and Linnette. All except his adoptive sister were eating a Peppered-Cabbage porridge with biscuits and rosehip tea.
It took every bit of effort for Justin to keep from letting his jaw drop in dismay, but his consternation was visible nonetheless.
"Don't worry, Captain," Sian said, a pleasant smile on her face. "Declan told us about the proposition that he made to you," As she spoke, Martin nervously averted his eyes. "And even though my husband is rather reluctant toward our son getting mixed up in this matter, I'm of the belief that his idea has a certain merit and; at the very least; deserves to be heard."
Justin tossed a quick, relieved look Brutus's way, but then remembered another factor in the equation. "What about you, Marian?" He asked. "Do you share her opinion?"
Mrs. Brisbee's face was unreadable; but she nodded, saying nothing. At the same time, Martin was trying his best to be as invisible as possible.
"And has your son explained in full his "proposition" and the conditions with which we'd both have to agree upon in order for me to fulfill my end of this bargain?" Justin asked pointedly.
"He has." Liam said. "although I have a few conditions of my own that he'll have to meet."
"And where is our eager young volunteer?" Justin asked with a mild edge of sarcasm. "He'll need to know what obligations are going to be placed upon his shoulders if I decide to approve this."
"He's out completing his chores, Captain." Sian answered. "He should return momentarily. Won't you both sit down and eat with us?" She indicated two clear areas on the floor, saying, "I apologize for our lack of seating arrangements. We didn't have much time to pack after Liam resigned his post, and moving a family this large can present certain logistical challenges."
Justin and Brutus gingerly moved toward their places as Linnette said, "Believe me, Mrs. Wyclyffe, Justin and I are quite familiar with the concept of a large family in a small home."
Just then, there came another knock at the door. Gwynnyth, who'd been at the stove installed in the far corner of the room preparing meals for Justin and Brutus, ran to answer it. Another of the Wyclyffe children brought their food to them and then resumed his place on the floor. Declan and his younger sister appeared, each carrying a small bundle of the night's ration of firewood.
"The rest of the family 're okay for the night, I trust?" Liam asked as the two children expertly weaved their way through the various diners, Declan being careful to keep his distance from Justin and Brutus.
"Yes, father." Declan stated, his voice more subdued than when Justin and Brutus had seen him last. (Liam quickly explained that several of the oldest children had decided to trade their room for a tent so that a family of weasels with very young children wouldn't have to sleep in the cold.) After placing their loads into the woodbox, He and Gwynnith quickly prepared their own dinners and sat where they could find room.
"Now that everyone is present, Captain, let's discuss this youth auxiliary that my son seems so hellbent on joining." Liam said.
Justin shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of porridge. "There's not much to discuss, really." He said in a low tone. "He seems to have this notion into his head that fighting against Jenner is some sort of ticket to Glory. And while I can, in a way, understand his boyish enthusiasm; I was, after all, recruited into the King's Guard when I was only a few years younger than he is now; it took many years to achieve the proficiency that I needed to rise through the ranks to my former position." He paused a moment in thought, then continued. "In order to fight Jenner, we'll have only the Winter season to prepare the army that will be needed to defeat him. Now that the kitchen wall is repaired, my brother will be concentrating on helping Mr. Stabb and myself to train that army." He then turned to Stabb. "How many have signed up so far?"
Stabb took a piece of paper from his purse and unrolled it. "About four hundred, give or take, including our host. I'm still a bit of a beginner when it comes to numbers." He said; smiling down at Dr. Ages, who sat next to him.
"Given enough time, my boy, I can make a mathematician as well as a philosopher out of you!" The badger stated confidently.
"Yes, well, unfortunately we don't have much time." Justin said grimly. "Lady Kluck informs me that Sullivan intends to enforce Jenner's laws. And knowing him, I suspect that he'll use more than just harsh language to do it." He then turned his attention to Liam. "Brutus tells me that you were once a Sergeant in the Duke of Wales' Army."
Liam shrugged nonchalantly. "Compulsory service. I just decided to stay in a little longer than most." He stated. Justin thought he heard more than a little pride in the hare's voice.
Sian smiled and slipped a loving arm around her husband's waist. "Liam was the handsomest soldier in his whole Regiment." She declared warmly.
Liam gave a bemused and lopsided smile. "Who am I to argue?" He asked.
Justin was forced to smile at his host's ability to keep a sense of humor even though they had effectively lost everything that they'd owned when they'd left their home. "Well, consider yourself reactivated with the honorary rank of Sergeant-Major; you too, Mr. Stabb." He then addressed the weasel in a half-whisper. "We need to meet with my brother to make a list of candidates for other training posts first thing tomorrow."
Stabb quickly nodded his agreement and took a small pen and ink bottle out of his purse and proceeded to painstakingly write a reminder at the bottom of the page. Ages, meanwhile, beamed proudly at his student.
Justin then got back to the subject for which everybody was gathered. "So you're willing to let your son train to take arms?" He asked.
"On one condition." Sian replied. "He must attend Lady Kluck's classes."
"Mom!" Declan tried to protest.
"All of your brothers and sisters are to be enrolled first thing tomorrow morning and you will be too." She stated firmly. "You need an education that your father and I have not had the luxury of time to give you. I'll not allow this valuable opportunity to go to waste."
"But I don't NEED..!" He tried to say.
"Listen to your Momma, boy." Stabb said, a sad intensity underlying the gentleness of his tone of voice. He then put down his empty bowl and spoon and a few moments later was sitting nose-to-nose with Declan. He placed his paws on the hare's shoulders and gazed into a pair of alert, nervous eyes. "Believe it or not," He began softly. "I used to be a lot like you. I truly believed that my fellow mercenaries an' I could conquer the world like the Emperors of Ancient Days. But somehow," He continued, his voice taking on a bitter edge, "Things never turned out quite like we'd planned." A tear now appeared at the corner of one eye. "As the years passed an' we fought this 'r that battle f'r this 'r that King," He slowly traced the age-faded scar that ran down the side of his face with one clawed finger. "I can't even remember now how many of 'em died or even what they thought they were dyin' for." He sighed as the tear fell from his eye and soaked into the fur of his cheek. He then continued. "Money, I suppose. There's a reason we're called 'Soldiers of Fortune'." He paused again for the briefest moment; bitter, unwanted memories of his past racing through his mind. "But somehow I just never paid enough attention to the 'Fortune' part and I was made to realize, much to my horror," His mouth then twisted into a forlorn smile. "Or my relief, I've never quite been able to figure out which, that the 'Soldier' part is best left in younger, more capable paws than mine." He then pointed to Ages. "The Doc's helped me to see that, even in my own advancing years, an education is far more valuable than all the weapons 'r gold in all th' world because once you have it, no one can ever take it away from you no matter how hard they might try." He concluded.
Declan, who had at first been skeptical of Stabb; expecting to be forced to sit through yet another lecture on why he couldn't help fight the evil King Jenner; now sat in rapt attention, absorbing every word and feeling the passions that he'd felt yesterday stirring within him again. "But I still want to help fight Jenner." He whispered.
"No one's sayin' you can't." Stabb said gently. "Alls your parents an' I want is that you should get some schoolin' too."
Declan sat like a statue for a minute as the room stayed silent except for the sounds of breathing. Finally, the young hare's head began to nod. "Alright, sir, I'll go to school." He said simply.
As Justin and Declan's parents each breathed silent sighs of relief, Stabb smiled happily, winked and tousled the fur on top of his head. "Good lad." The weasel said.
Justin then announced, "Let's not forget the matter of another potential recruit. What about it, Martin?" He asked.
Before the rabbit could answer; Mrs. Brisbee spoke, carefully measuring her words. "While I AM concerned for your safety, and expect you to attend classes too, I also realize that you're mature enough now to make your own decision about whether or not to join Declan and Mr. Stabb." She said.
"You can still back out of this." Justin gently reminded him. "And I don't think that any of us would think any less of you if you did."
"I would." Martin whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek.
"Why?" Mrs. Brisbee asked as she wrapped a motherly arm around Martin's shoulders and tenderly pulled him to her so that his head rested on her shoulder.
"I don't wanna fight for Glory 'r anything like that." He said quietly. He then lifted his head until his eyes met his mother's. "I just want to fight for my father." He said, his voice a mixture of sadness and determination.
Mrs. Brisbee gave a sad smile as a tear formed in the corner of her eye and rolled down her muzzle and off the tip of her nose to splash onto the tip of Martin's nose. "I understand." She whispered as she used the ragged hem of her cape to gently wipe the damp spot away. She then told Stabb, "My son will also be part of your class so long as it doesn't interfere with his schoolwork."
Stabb nodded. "I don't think that'll be a problem, Ma'am."
Justin then produced a pair of permission slips and, once they were signed, excused himself and left the ersatz apartment; a feeling of dread filling the pit of his stomach to keep company with the porridge.
Chapter Fifty-Five
"WHERE IS HE?" Jenner's voice reverberated like thunder through the throneroom.
"We, uh, we don't know, Your Majesty." Zim; a jackal, head of Jenner's network of spies throughout the City; replied nervously. "We had him until early the night-before-last, but then the 'shadow' that I had posted to watch him somehow lost his trail. I'm at a loss to explain how it happened but the matter is being investigated and my 'employee' will be disciplined if necessary." He added reassuringly.
Jenner was less than satisfied. "I don't pay you to investigate your failings!" He growled angrily. "I pay you to instill just enough fear in me among my subjects to keep me in power without causing a civil war! If that means the occasional secret assassination, then I expect your organization to handle it with the necessary discretion!"
The jackal shrugged. "If it is the will of the spirits, Your Majesty." He said with a less than genuine humility.
"Spirits? Bah!" Jenner spat. "These 'spirits' that everyone invokes are nothing more than a way to avoid taking responsibility for their own failures! If at first you don't succeed, blame the spirits. And when you do succeed, claim the credit for your own. THAT'S how it usually goes, isn't it?" He asked sarcastically.
The jackal shrugged again, having no real desire to get caught up in a theological tug-of-war. In all truth Zim was beginning to regret his "association" with this arrogant, bragging twit. He sorely missed the good old days of mere petty thievery, extortion, running protection rackets, smuggling, mercantile espionage and hijacking the occasional caravan for his other main employer, The Grandmaster. His Majesty might be The King of Britain, but he was certainly the stingiest animal that Zim had ever had the misfortune to work for; especially considering that murder was now being added to the mix. And why His Majesty was so upset by the disappearance of a mere scribe to the point of obsession was, to Zim's mind, a puzzlement. The scribe, a simple-minded hedgehog, had done nothing particularly wrong (other than to question his Sovreign's sanity, something that even Zim could understand!) while His Majesty had been in power, as Zim was well aware from the reports of his spy network; but orders were orders and somehow this Ignatz had escaped the fate that had been decreed for him and his family and it was up to Zim and his comrades to find and kill them.
He was about excuse himself from His Majesty's presence when one of the Troop-Captains of the King's Guard walked in. They eyed each other suspiciously. Zim distrusted all of His Majesty's Guard's because they were independent of the Army command structure and, therefore, could not be intimidated by threats of courts-martial and virtually certain imprisonment or Death for Treason to the Crown if there was even a whiff of doubt as to their loyalty. (King's Guards, if they WERE ever accused of disloyalty, would have been tried under a special statute by a Grand Jury made up of Sheriff's and presided over by, ironically enough, the King's Chancellor; but so above reproach were they that this system had never been put to the test.) He distrusted this one in particular because his father had been a vociferous opponent of both His Majesty and the Grandmaster. And while Giles Gisbourne had so far said or done nothing that would cast doubt on his loyalty to his charge, Zim had made it a priority to have him carefully watched; especially after the incident at the King's Orphanage some months ago.
The wolf brushed by him without a word and knelt in front of the throne. "Your Majesty, I bring you grievous news." He announced.
Jenner scowled. "It can't be any worse than anything I've already heard today." He muttered. "Out with it." He ordered.
"It is with deep regret that I must inform His Majesty that his scribe, Ignatz, is dead." He said, his voice quavering just noticeably.
Jenner leaned back in his throne, the scowl on his face modifying itself from anger to a combination of intense curiosity and skepticism as he rubbed his beard. "Interesting." He intoned. His eyes narrowed as they focused on the jackal, who was slowly and unobtrusively trying to back ("slink" is the word that Giles would use when describing the incident in the barracks that night) out of the throne room. "Tell me, Spy, were you aware of this?"
Zim was dumbfounded by this turn of events. "Certainly not, Your Majesty!" He said nervously.
Jenner turned his attention back to Gisbourne. "You say the scribe is dead? How? Where's the body?" He demanded.
"Late night-before-last, as I was walking through one of the parks bordering the City wall, I discovered him attempting to leave." The wolf answered sadly. "When he recognized me, he drew a dagger and I was forced to defend myself. I then rushed to his home and found that he'd murdered his own family in their beds." He paused a moment as a tear slid down the fur of his cheek. "I also found a small stash of documents that suggested that he may have been working for one of the Continental Empires. I decided to spare his family the dishonor of a burial in a 'potter's field' by throwing their bodies into the Thames River and burning the documents." He said, his head bowed and his voice now a hoarse whisper. "I imagine that they're at sea by now." He then raised his head and came eye-to-eye with Jenner. "If I was wrong in taking this initiative, I apologize to His Majesty; but I ask no mercy if I'm to be punished." He stated quietly.
Jenner regarded the wolf. "I assume, Troop-Captain, that this was the first time that you've actually killed in the line of duty?" He asked airily.
"Yes it is, Your Majesty." Gisbourne said, his voice now somewhat more composed than a moment ago.
Jenner's lip's curled into something between a sardonic smile and a self-satisfied sneer. "Good." He said. "Your 'first blood', as it were. The truest test of your loyalty to your King. And take it from me," He said with a cruel chuckle, "The best part is that it gets easier the more you do it." That the scribe was dead was, in fact, excellent news. But his curiosity was now aroused. "By the way," He asked, almost as an afterthought, "Did you find anything among those papers that you burned that might have been, shall we say, unusual?"
The wolf thought for a moment, then said, "I did find an execution warrant on the scribe that was clumsily forged in Your Majesty's name; but other than that, no." He stated.
Zim had been listening with a growing unease and dismay to this preposterous charade. That inconsequential, feeble-minded hedgehog; a SPY? "Impossible!" Zim blurted out angrily. He then turned and pointed a bony, accusing finger at Gisbourne. "He's LYING! I'll sell my mother's Soul if he isn't lying, Your Majesty!" The jackal cried indignantly.
"Knowing you I'm sure you already have many times over, and at a handsome profit." Jenner stated sarcastically.
Zim was about to retort, but Gisbourne placed a warning paw on the hilt of his sword. Instead he swallowed his words and gritted his teeth, glaring hatefully at the wolf.
"Tell me, Spy, were you aware of my spiny-yet-spineless scribe's alteration of affections toward his King?" Jenner asked pointedly, again rubbing his beard.
Zim hesitated for several seconds, trying to keep his growing rage under control.
"Answer His Majesty's question." Gisbourn said calmly, his paw caressing the weapon.
"Of course I wasn't!" Zim finally hissed, barely able to restrain himself from sliding the stiletto he kept handy at the small of his back under his multi-hued robe out of it's scabbard and throwing it at the wolf. But he'd seen Gisbourne numerous times on the training field and well knew that the Troop-Captain was an adversary to be reckoned with; both in physical and, as he was just now apparently discovering, mental terms.
Jenner raised an eyebrow. "This is hardly what I'd call a spectacular example of intellegence-gathering." He told Zim in a mocking tone. "And it's certainly not going to look good on your resume." Leaving the jackal to fume, he turned his attention back to Troop-Captain Gisbourne. "Did the papers give you any clue as to which of the Continental Empires might have swayed him to their side?" He asked.
Gisbourne again paused. "Not specifically." He finally answered. "But they mentioned an organization of some sort called 'The Society to Maintain the Rule of the King' that was secretly thwarting all outside efforts to depose Your Majesty from his Throne."
"Impossible!" Zim hissed under his breath. "My operatives have seen no evidence of any such activity!"
"Silence, dolt!" Jenner spat. "You're still alive ONLY because your other employer has the necessary influence to keep you so! Were it MY choice you'd be swinging from a gallows this moment!" He warned. Again turning his attention back to Gisbourne, he asked, "What about this execution warrant?" Jenner had, of course, signed a genuine execution warrant against the scribe; but the news that someone had created a forgery intrigued him. Could this mysterious "Society to Maintain the Rule of the King" have done so in order to flush out this apparent traitor? He'd wanted the hedgehog and his family dead for no other reason than the fact that Terror, especially of the lethal variety, was, used in small amounts and with a surgical precision, quite probably the easiest, cheapest and most effective way to supress the vast majority of dissent against one's rule; especially if one was utterly despised by one's own subjects. But had he now an ally that would help to keep him on the Throne? Most intriguing indeed!
"As I said before, Your Majesty, a bad counterfeit." The wolf answered dismissively.
Further discussion was interrupted by the familiar tapping sound, faint but quickly-approaching, of the Grandmaster's cane. Jenner pointed a beringed finger at Zim. "From now on, Spy, you report to Troop-Captain Gisbourne; since he obviously has his head screwed on tighter than you do." Jenner sneered. He then pointed at Giles. "You'll edit his reports and make sure that they're accurate and up-to-date." He ordered.
The jackal gasped with horror as the wolf; with a narrow-eyed, sidelong, and very predatory glance; gave a slight, almost unnoticable smile.
"I'll leave you two to, shall we say, 'quibble' over the arrangements in this matter." Jenner said slyly, giving a dismissive wave of the paw. He knew that whatever enmity had existed between his Guards and Zim's spy network before was sure to heat up a great deal after this; but he didn't actually trust either group completely with his safety and wanted them both not only suspicious of each other, but vying against one another as well to show who would take their loyalty to him to the greatest extreme.
After prefunctory bows the wolf and the jackal made their exit from the throneroom but wern't even out of earshot before a nasty-sounding arguement broke out between them, fading into the distance. A moment later, The Grandmaster appeared. "I trust Your Majesty is having a good morning?" He asked.
"I suppose." Jenner sighed with a hint of irritation. "Even surrounded as I am by idiots." He said as he motioned the boar to a large, splendidly decorated chair to the right of the raised platform on which was mounted the Throne of Britain. The chair that had originally occupied that particular space had been of a much plainer and far more dignified design. But the previous occupant, the King's Chancellor, had; along with his Sovreign; been assassinated and the position abolished.
The Grandmaster settled his ample hind-end into the over-stuffed cushion, giving Jenner a gimlet-eyed look. "Am I to assume that you're dissatisfied with the services of my Intellegence operative?" He asked.
"Intellegence? Hardly the word I'd use!" Jenner snorted derisively. He then explained Zim's failure to kill the scribe Ignatz, and Giles Gisbourne's discovery that he'd apparently been working undercover for one of the Continental Empires.
The Grandmaster's jaw dropped in astonishment and alarm. "Pardon, Your Majesty, but doesn't it seem rather too convenient that this Troop-Captain has disposed of so much evidence? And is His Majesty aware of who the Troop-Captain's father is?" He asked sharply.
Jenner rolled his eyes and huffed in exasperation. "Frankly, no, I can't say that it does!" He replied. "And as for Gilbert Gisbourne, I think your penchant for seeing a plot around every corner and a conspiracy behind every closed door is getting the better of you! As I hear it, and with any luck, that broken-down old geezer should be kicking off at any moment." He sneered.
The Grandmaster then rapped the metal tip of his cane on the cold, gray stone of the floor; the cannon-like report echoing through the throneroom. "But Gilbert is NOT dead!" He wheezed emphatically. "And haven't I always taught you that plots and conspiracies exist most especially when they CANNOT easily be seen?"
Jenner nodded reluctantly. "Yes, yes." He replied. "'For such is the nature of conspiracy that it must be hidden by it's plotters from the intended victim until the Moment of Truth; unto Death, if necessary.' No, Grandmaster, I've not forgotten your words." He then pushed himself agitatedly away from his Throne and began to pace back and forth as if trapped in an invisible cage. "But Gisbourne? Why, assuming you're correct, would he lie about the deaths of a simple scribe and his family?" He asked.
The old boar chuckled as an evil smile came to his lips. "Perhaps," He said, "We might get a satisfactory explanation if the young Troop-Captain were, shall we say, properly motivated to give it to us."
Jenner turned and eyed his mentor in astonishment. He could tell from the expression on the boar's face and malign glee in his voice what the Grandmaster was thinking. "Are you seriously suggesting that I arrest one of my own Troop-Captains?" He asked. "Ordering the death of a stupid scribe is one thing; after all, who's going to miss an insignificant idiot like him? But to accuse one of my guards of disloyalty? I would not only have a civil war to deal with, but quite probably a mutiny as well!" He cried in growing alarm.
"This sudden squeamishness certainly does not become Your Majesty." The boar said sternly. "Remember, YOU are the Sovreign King of Britain! YOU are answerable to no one! Your subjects and your Guards are YOURS to command, NOT the other way around!"
Jenner, mesmerized by the boar's words, vigorously nodded his agreement. "Yes. Yes, you're absolutely right!" He said. "I'll have the Troop-Captain seized immediately!"
The Grandmaster giggled, waving a dismissive hoof. "Tempting as that sounds, Your Majesty, it would merely be a waste of valuable time." He said. "No," He continued, "We must be more subtle in our methods." The Grandmaster then lifted his girth from his chair and began tapping his way toward the door. "I'll need," He wheezed, "Warrants for the arrest of Gilbert, Geoffrey and Gillian Gisbourne."
Jenner's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "On what charge?" He asked.
The boar shrugged as he swept by. "High Treason against the Crown, I suppose. It doesn't really matter." He replied. He kept walking until he was framed in the arch of the doorway and turned to face his pupil, who wore an uneasy scowl. "Do not fret, Your Majesty. If young Gisbourne speaks the truth, then his family should be returned to their present obscurity." He said.
"And if he is lying?" Jenner asked.
The sadistic anticipation returned to the boar's face. "Then obviously, Your Majesty, they must be made to suffer the consequences."
"LEFT-two-three-four, LEFT-two-three-four. Col-lumn HALT!"
Under a bright winter noontime sun, the ragged line of animals halted their forced march in a small clearing somewhere inside Sherwood Forest.
"Alright, you idiots, take ten and get those lunches down your miserable gullets!" Liam Wyclyffe shouted.As one, the line collapsed and each of them began digging into whatever rucksack, pack or bag they'd brought along. As they began eating, Liam; pacing down the column, continued. "Last night I was given the unfortunate duty of whipping your sorry tails into an Army so that we can kick Jenner's tail off of the throne! Little did I realize that our beloved Leader, in his infinite wisdom, has, from the look of this utterly pathetic bunch of sissies and low-lifes seated before me, given me what has to be the most impossible damn job in my entire career as a soldier! It is, in fact, the height of personal embarassment that the ONLY animal I've seen today who has anything close to decent prospects toward becoming a fighter worthy of the name is a friggin' GIRL!" At this, a number of the weary recruits glanced down the line at Heather Kilcannon; who was quietly nibbling at a piece of dried fruit, tears of exhaustion staining her cheeks. Liam had been nothing less than astonished when the young skunk had shown up just before dawn that morning and begged to be signed up as a recruit. Try as he might to dissuade her; she'd insisted, telling him, "I've nay duties other than th' Council. Others, like yourself, 're servin' an' sacrificin' by takin' on more than one task, an' I don't think tha' I should be th' only exception." And so, very reluctantly, he'd signed her into his own Troop. "But," He'd warned her sternly, "You'll be treated just like any other recruit without regard to your status as an Elder. I can't have the other recruits questioning my authority because they believe that I'm bein' soft on you."
Heather had instantly agreed and, so far as Liam could tell, was willingly tolerating the abuses, both verbal and physical, that were being heaped on her and the Troop. "Alright ya bunch o' lollygaggers!" He bellowed into the cold air, "On your feet!"
Instantly, Heather was standing at a reasonable facsimile of attention and a few of the other recruits reluctantly followed her example; but most of the other animals remained seated. "Up your's! We just sat down!" A sullen and indignant voice replied.
"Who said that!" Liam demanded.
"I did." The offender replied, his voice now both a taunt and a challenge.
Liam quickly found the source; A young weasel, seated near the middle of the column, gnawing leisurely on the end of a carrot. Liam half-smiled to himself in grim amusement. He'd learned long ago that there was always at least one young buck who thought that, for whatever reason; whether it was a desire to show off and impress his buddies, intimidate the instructor in order to prove his malehood, or a simple lack of respect for the authority that Liam represented; the rules of Military decorum didn't apply to them. He made his way to where the intransigent recruit sat, now spooning some crushed fruit from a small jar into a bowl, and planted himself at parade-rest right in front of the malefactor. "What's your name, son?" He asked with a not-quite-friendly smile.
"Go 'way, Long Ears," The weasel replied dismissively, "Can't you see I'm eatin'?"
With the speed of a flashing sword-point, Liam slapped the bowl and spoon out of the animal's paws and sent them flying into the grass a stones-throw away. "Lunch is over. Now that I have your undivided attention, I'll repeat the question. What's your name?" Liam was still smiling, but his dark eyes were now narrowed and completely focused on the transgressor.
The weasel shot to a standing position, his own eyes smouldering with rage. "Hey!" He cried. He was at least half-a-head taller than Liam, and quite muscular for a weasel; but the hare calmly stood his ground.
"I'll not be askin' ya a third time, boy." Liam said, his voice barely above a whisper.
With a yell the young recruit tried to rake his claws across Liam's face. Without so much as a flicker of emotion the hare parried the attack; grabbing the weasel's wrist and sending him reeling into a pair of other recruits who'd stopped eating in anticipation of a rousing fight, toppling them like tenpins. Liam, meanwhile, decided that this stupidity was best turned into a learning experience. "You'll notice," He commented to no one in particular, "That I was able to use the recruit's own speed and turn it against him." After a moment's disorientation, the weasel disentangled himself from the other two and tried to attack again. And again, the hare expertly dodged; this time putting the weasel down onto the grass with a painful blow to the back of his neck. "You'll notice also that the angrier he gets, the easier he is to fight..." Once more Liam eluded the weasel's assault; this time landing a hard punch to his lower ribcage and knocking the wind out of him, curling him up like a ball as he gasped for breath. By now, a number of the other recruits were gathered around to witness the spectacle. But Liam also noticed out of the corner of his eye that Heather still stood resolutely at attention even as tears flowed down her cheeks. He quickly returned his attention to the more pressing matter that still lay in front of him and was now struggling to get to his feet. "We can keep this up the rest of the day if you'd like." He said casually, "Though weaponless combat was supposed to come a bit later in the curriculum."
The weasel painfully raised a warding paw. "No more!" He gasped. "I'm Oliver... Brownleaf...of the...Waning-Crescent Clan."
Liam now regarded the weasel with a more benign expression. "Very good, Trooper Brownleaf. Take your place in the column." He ordered.
Brownleaf wordlessly stumbled to the spot he'd been assigned that morning.
Liam then ordered the rest of the animals to pack their lunches and, moments later, called the Troop to attention. As one and without a word the column snapped into a roughly military line, with the exception of one panting, hunched-over figure. Satisfied that this was probably the best that he could expect on a first day of training, he called, "Right Face!" Then, "Forward March!" In unison, several dozen pairs of feet began beating a steady cadence on the Forest floor. As the line passed him, he let himself smile just a bit. Maybe, just maybe, he could whip some of these tails into something resembling an Army after all.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Gillian Gisbourne was so depressed she wanted to cry. Only two days had passed since Geoffrey had helped the little scribe and his family escape from the City. Thus far there had been no word of their capture and every hour that passed meant that much more of a margin of safety...if Giles' alibi held up. The tension of wondering was bad enough, although in a remote and abstract way. But what was most responsible for her immediate state of mind was the fact that King Jenner had just decreed that the last royally-subsidized hospital would lose its funding, effective immediately. This tragic piece of news did not actually affect her directly; she volunteered after school at the City's only charity hospital in hopes of one day being eligible for a Scholarship from the Nursing Guild to attend it's Academy.
Ever since the deaths of King Nicodemus and Sir Jonathan Brisbee; Jenner had been shutting down almost the entire social welfare mechanism of his government, leaving only the private charities to take up the slack of caring for the poor, the physically disabled and the unemployed. Unfortunately this was proving more and more difficult as more and more animals who had once depended on the Crown to keep them clothed, fed and off the streets seeking alms; or, worse yet, turning to crime to keep themselves or their families fed; were now desperately looking to those same charities for support. But most of the various guilds and businesses that had once given generously to their favorite charities were now, inexplicably, refusing even to acknowledge solicitors when they came seeking donations.
One of the few exceptions was, of course, the Guild of Small Businesses; of which her brother, Geoffrey, was acting as master until their father either recovered from his inexplicable illness or died. But the guild was in dire straits of it's own. Founded by Gillian's grandfather, Gareth, the GSB was, as were all the guilds, supposed to act as the representative voice for it's member's before the Crown in matters of worker safety, old-age pensions, pay equity, workmanship standards (including training standards for the various craft and professional guilds) and fair treatment in taxation and other legal issues. But membership, which had always been problematic (pushcart vendors, mom-and-pop store owners and the like tended to be fiercely independent; rarely seeing their colleagues as anything other than competitors fighting for an ever-shrinking slice of an ever-smaller economic pie), was now dwindling ever lower as members either were evicted from their shops by Jenner's Land Repossession Decree, bought out by non-member competitors or were forclosed on by their suppliers and creditors. Worse yet; ever since Jenner's ascension to the Throne the attitude of the majority of the other, larger, guilds, especially the Mercantile Guilds; while never particularly congenial due to an intense personal animosity between her father and the Grandmaster of those guilds; had gone from merely cold but respectful to outright hostile toward the GSB, those few small and independent guilds who chose to remain allied with it, and the Gisbourne family in particular.
While Gillian would have been unable to point to any real, physical, evidence of a conspiracy on any grand scale, she was astute enough to pick up on the small items: unsent invitations to this or that birthday party or guild function, even by friends or colleagues who's relationships with the family went back generations; longtime friends of her father, often using the lamest of pretenses, refusing to visit him during his illness; refusals by businesses to honor Gisbourne family credit accounts or checks, usually without explanation or apology. These and a thousand other small clues each day, she knew, were warning her that somewhere, someone very powerful was; for whatever reason; plotting the isolation and probably the eventual destruction of both the GSB AND the Gisbourne family. The saddest part of this was that she had tried to share her fears with Geoffrey (she knew she didn't DARE tell Giles, as loyal as he was to the King); but her brother had merely laughed off her concerns, telling her to "quit being such a worry-wart" and pointing out that Jenner was turning Britain's economy into such a shambles with his wrong-headed policies that cancellation of credit and demands for cash-only transactions were all but inevitable. When she'd tried to point out the recent behavior of their friends, colleagues and acquaintances; he'd bitterly denounced them as "traitors deserting their posts!", and promised dire consequences for their conduct in the future. But she knew, as had her late mother, that the male contingent of the Gisbourne family tended to be idealistic about whatever cause (Gareth, Gilbert and Geoffrey the GSB; Giles the King's Guard) they embraced, sometimes blinding themselves to the reality of their situation to the point of refusal to compromise. In the past, her mother had usually been able to smooth things over and make her father and brothers see reason when necessary; but since her death after a long illness two years ago, Gillian had found herself unable to fill that particular void in the family dynamic. If anything, Gilbert, Geoffrey and Giles were becoming even more intractible; driving each other further apart by their respective uncompromising stances. Her brothers had very nearly come to blows over the issue of whether to help the poor scribe until Giles discovered the execution warrant and was forced by Geoffrey (and probably his own conscience, thank the spirits that Jenner hadn't destroyed THAT part of him yet!) to admit that Jenner was capable of outright murder and aid in saving the little hedgehog and his kin.
But now, bereft of their mother's moderating influence, the family seemed on the verge of falling apart; other than a barely acknowledged greeting for breakfast, the only meal that their busy schedules permitted them to eat together, not a word had been spoken among them since aiding the scribe's escape.
She was just about to turn the corner and step out onto the street on which her house was located when she heard a familiar voice angrily shout, "What's this about? You have no right to do this!" Instinctively she stopped and put her back to the wall of the building that hid her from the view of whoever it was that Geoffrey had vented his protest against and ventured a quick peek. To her horror; she saw her brother in chains and shackles and her father, shackled at his wrists, on an improvised stretcher surrounded by a large detail of the King's Guard. Ominously the Grandmaster,wearing a crimson skullcap and almost engulfed in a gayly brocaded velvet hooded-cape of the same color, was also there. As she was barely more than spitting distance from the scene, she could clearly hear and occasionally see what was going on.
"As a matter of fact, my young friend, I have EVERY right to do this; for the safety of Britain, her subjects and her King." The boar said benignly.
"Are we under arrest?" Her father snarled contemptuously, "Or is that stupid little whelp whose chain you're pullin' now in the habit of takin' old enemies from their home and bringin' 'em to the castle to watch 'em die?"
"Under arrest?" The Grandmaster asked, with what Gillian was sure was an exaggerated mock-graciousness. "Why, certainly not!" He exclaimed, in a horror that she was certain was; again; more mocking than genuine. He then dug into the folds of the cape and produced a folded piece of parchment. "But," He continued pleasantly, "You are being, shall we say, 'indefinitely detained' on the rather serious charge of Treason to the Crown."
"WHAT?! That's a damned..." Geoffrey started to say. But his father raised his head and one paw as far as his shackles would let him.
"Shut up, son." He said, his voice like flint on steel. "No use wastin' yer breath on this lard-ass. He's apparently callin' the shots an' wants t' get his 'jollys' in at the same time." He then lay his head back down and lay the paw on his emaciated stomach. To the Grandmaster he said, sounding utterly exhausted, "Just take us to whatever hole you're gonna dump us into an be quick about it."
"Don't worry, your accommodations will be somewhat better than that..." The Grandmaster said; then paused a moment before adding, with a sadistic chuckle that came out as more of a grunt , "But not by much." He then tapped his bejeweled cane on the cobblestoned street. "Sergeant, take them to the castle and put them in the 'Special Quarters' that I've arranged." He ordered.
"Yessir." The Sergeant answered.
As soon as Gillian's father and brother and their guards were gone, an unfamiliar animal stepped out of the Grandmaster's sedan chair and joined him.
"Where is the daughter?" The boar asked ominously, otherwise not acknowledging the new player's presence.
The animal; who wore a decorous, multi-colored robe and an unusual, low, round, flat-topped cap; shrugged. "She should have been here, the spirits willing." He said apologetically.
Quicker than Gillian would have given him credit for, the Grandmaster whirled and struck the strange animal across the side of his head with his cane; sending the little hat flying toward the corner, where it rolled to a stop at her feet; and knocking the now bleeding creature into the gutter. "IDIOT!" The Grandmaster screamed. "This is the second error you've made this week!"
"My humblest apologies, Excellency," The animal said as he tried to stanch the flow. "But I was unaware that you wished her imprisoned as well; otherwise I would have assigned a shadow to trail her as well." He explained, still dazed from the blow.
"Damn your excuses, you miserable cur!" The Grandmaster screamed again, raising the stick to inflict another stroke. "So long as the Troop-Captain belives even ONE of his family is safe from my grasp, he represents a danger to us all!" He cried in frustration. He then lowered the cane and pointed the tip at the cowering animal's nose. "You were nothing more than a lice-ridden little sneak-thief when I took you out of the gutters of your native land and turned you into the best spy that money," With his other hoof he thumped his barrel-wide chest for emphasis. "MY MONEY, could buy! But you disappoint me again, you brainless twit, and I'll send you to a place where those gutters compare favorably with the abode of the spirits! Have I made myself clear?" He asked, his rage unabated.
The other animal nodded wearily. "As the waters of a virgin oasis, Excellency." He sighed.
Without another word, the Grandmaster turned and stalked toward his waiting sedan chair. The other animal began looking around for his hat and quickly spotted it peeking around the corner of a nearby building.
Gillian, terrified at the thought of being made a captive by such a sadistic and evil monster, supressed the cry of desperation that tried to escape from her throat and fled for her life the way she had come.
Zim made his way; a bit unsteadily, perhaps; to the corner where his hat lay. With the paw that was not soaked with his blood, he reached down to retrieve it; but something made him hesitate. Something (instinct most likely) made him look up to see what might have been the tip of a tail disappear around the far corner of the alley. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs and peered through the one eye not obscured by now-clotting blood.
"I'm waiting!" Said the impatient voice from inside the Grandmaster's silk-curtained conveyance.
"Coming, Excellency." The jackal called. He again shrugged and picked up the hat. "Most probably nothing more than a child at play, the spirits willing." He thought to himself as he tottered toward his employer.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
The line of animals proceeded along the narrow forest path as the chill early-morning air enveloped them; the occasional falling snowflake sticking to fur, clothing or ground, only to melt into oblivion seconds later. In the lead was a quiet and subdued Justin. In the nursery the night before, little Timothy had awakened; crying and in a cold sweat. A concerned Lady Kluck had fetched him, Mrs. Brisbee and Dr. Ages, afraid that the child had caught another bout of pneumonia. Ages had quickly examined the young rabbit and pronounced him to be quite healthy. But what had awakened his nephew was another one of those awful prophetic nightmares. When asked to describe it, Timothy told them that he'd been dreaming of someone, a young female wolf, who was running from the half-lion, half-fox demon-creature who; until now at least, had pretty much faded from memory. He'd told them that while she was in some danger from the demon-creature, it was three males; though Timothy could not tell what their exact relation to her was; who were in more immediate peril. Justin could only shrug helplessly, telling Timothy that he had an idea of who fit this particular description, but that he had no way of rendering aid to them at that particular moment. The rabbit had nodded his understanding, a sadness in his tired eyes. He'd then asked if he might be allowed to speak privately to his Uncle. With a collective odd look; his mother, Ages and Kluck had excused themselves, leaving them to talk by the dim light of a small lamp, surrounded only by the sound of soft breathing or snoring of other sleeping children.
"I'm listening." Justin had said.
A strange, haunted look had now come to his nephew's face; making his eyes seem even sadder, if such a thing were possible. "I dreamt that someone, someone very close to you, is going to die." The rabbit had said very matter-of-factly. "I don't know who or when," He'd continued, "But the spirits have chosen to bring the soul of one of us to their realm."
Justin had been quite taken aback by this pronouncement from such a young child. While he'd grown more than a little skeptical over the years since his childhood when it came to his beliefs about the spirit world and affairs of the supernatural, Timothy's prediction of the fire and their narrow escape from Dr. Ages house had served to cast a shadow of doubt on the certainty of that skepticism. And now to have his younger nephew tell him that one of their number, and a close acquaintance at that, was somehow predestined to die and there was nothing that could be done to alter upcoming events, it was as if all of the strengths that had been serving him so well up until now; his leadership abilities, his training, his will to see Justice prevail and his vulpine survival instinct (the "wiliness" for which his species was so well known and admired); were being mocked by a force over which he had no control. And it both bothered and scared the hell out of him. Needless to say he'd gotten very little sleep that night; especially since he'd had to awaken long before dawn to start this journey if he, Ezekiel Stabb, Liam Wyclyffe, Brutus, Dr. Ages and Galen Talbot were to make it to the Heath in time to make the necessary preparations for their meeting with Sullivan.
A few paces to his rear, Stabb and Wyclyffe were comparing notes on their first day of training their respective charges.
"Your boy certainly makes up in enthusiasm what he lacks in discipline." Stabb told the hare matter-of-factly.
Liam shrugged. "I think he gets it from my side of the family." He confessed, a mixture of pride and embarrassment in his voice. "We Wyclyffe's tend to be a querelous lot."
"So I've heard." Stabb chuckled with amusement. His voice then became slightly more serious. "He seems to have all of the physical qualifications for being a soldier; excellent reflexes, sharp eyes an' the like; but he doesn't seem to understand the concept that a soldier depends on his Troop, and vice-versa, to fight and survive. He seems to have this notion in his head that, with a little bit of help from the Nottingham Organization, he'll be the one to save Britain from the clutches of her evil Tyrant-King."
The hare shook his head in resignation. "I'm afraid he's always been like that." He said. "All through his childhood, all he ever talked about was someday becomin' a Soldier 'r a Deputy...'r even a Sheriff..."
"He can HAVE the job; that is, if he can talk the present occupant out of it!" Brutus commented caustically from his place further back in line.
"And what of Martin?" Justin asked quietly, not looking back.
"A fine young lad." The weasel stated. "Does what he's told, when he's told to do it, without the slightest hesitation or complaint. I don't yet know how much of the Warrior is in 'im, but he seems motivated enough."
There was an uneasy silence while they waited for Justin to answer or comment. But when none was forthcoming, Stabb asked Liam, "An' how'd your first full day of training go, Sergeant-Major?"
Liam shrugged. "About as well as I could have expected." He answered, his voice hardening a bit. "I did have a small dust-up with one of the Waning-Crescent weasels, but I think my charges'll stay in line from now on."
"I KNOW they will!" The bear once again interjected. "Ol' Wilbur reamed that poor kid out, but good, last night! Made it clear that if any other member of their clan does something that stupid again, he'll personally prosecute them at any Council meeting convened to decide punishment!"
"Miss Kilcannon," The hare continued, "Joined my Troop yesterday morning too."
At this, Stabb's ears pricked up with interest.
"Like you said about Martin: Does what she's told, when she's told to do it; without hesitation 'r complaint. Whether 'r not she's got the Warrior spirit in her as well, only time an' training'll determine." He stated matter-of-factly.
At this; Justin raised his right paw in a fist, signalling the others to stop. As soon as Dr. Ages and Galen, who had been lagging a bit behind the main group due to the effect of the cold weather on Ages now-healed-but-still-sensitive leg, caught up, Justin gathered them in a huddle. To Stabb and Liam he said, "Remember, Sullivan's NOT one to play by the rules, especially if they were made by someone other than him! So your job is to find whoever he plans to have kill the rest of us and neutralize them. Clear?"
The weasel and the hare looked at each other for the briefest moment and nodded. Seconds later, they'd silently disappeared in opposite directions into the Forest.
Justin, Brutus, Galen and Ages now proceeded; also silently; toward their destination.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
It was just before mid-morning when they arrived at the Heath. The now-deserted Talbot cottage stood dark and forlorn among the moss-covered trees and the ground-clutter of dead leaves and fallen branches. While Justin and Brutus did a quick patrol of the immediate area, Galen stared longingly and sadly at what had once been the home that he'd shared with his loving wife; but had been forced to abandon, however temporarily, by the circumstances that were to be played out in this very place just a few moments from now.
"Don't worry, brother, you and Linney will be able to move back here someday; that's a promise!" Justin said as he came to stand side-by-side with the older fox.
"I certainly hope so." Galen sighed. "Not that we don't appreciate the hospitality that you've shown us so far," He continued, his tone becoming more acid, "But Linney and I had plans for our sunset years, and living in what amounts to a tent-city with no privacy sure as hell wasn't among them."
Dr. Ages, who was now seated on a log in front of a small fire gingerly massaging his sore knee, emphaticallly nodded his agreement. "You'll get no argument from me on that issue. I haven't had a truely private moment since Sullivan burned down my own home and left me with this permanent reminder." He said, indicating the deep and ugly pinkish-gray scar that stood well out from the surrounding white fur.
Just then a distant rustling of leaves, quite distinct from the crackling of the wood being consumed in the fire, alerted the group that the moment of truth was close at paw. They quickly and quietly gathered to one side of the fire, their backs to the cottage.
Three figures emerged from the gray half-darkness of the surrounding forest and stopped barely a stones-throw away. In the lead, of course, was Sullivan. A step back and to either side were his Deputies. One, a young lynx, wore a small bandage on one ear. The other was a raccoon, though apparently not related to any of the peasants that Justin had rescued from the whip of that boar those many months ago, the fox noted with a certain amount of regret. If this degenerated into a fight (and ANYTHING could go wrong in the next few minutes, he knew), one or several of either group; innocent or not; were certain to end up as corpses.
The Sheriff of Nottingham regarded them with a look that could have been interpreted as anything from simple anger to pure astonishment. "YOU!" He finally managed to sneer as he pointed an incriminating finger at his one-time "colleague". "I should've known you're the one behind all this 'Power to the Peasants!' crap!"
Justin's eyes narrowed as a slight smile came to his lips. "Still blaming your problems on me; eh, Sullivan?" He asked bitterly. Then, to Ages, he said, "At least we know that SOME things will never change." In disgust, Ages nodded his agreement.
With a dismissive wave of his paw, Sullivan brushed off Justin's insult. "The words of a traitor and criminal have no meaning to me or to King Jenner. I would remind you that a reward is still on your head." He stated, pointing at the fox. He then levelled his stern gaze at Dr. Ages. "And you, Quack, are still wanted for conspiracy in connection with the murder of his late Majesty, King Nicodemus, and planning to murder our present King..."
"I'm not even going to dignify THAT particular charge!" Ages snapped back, not bothering to pause in his efforts to keep his knee warm.
The wolf shot the old badger a dirty look, which was ignored, and set his sights on the previous holder of the office he now occupied. "Brutus!" He said, his voice now a plea. "Why have you done this to yourself? You could have had so much! Jenner was gonna give you money and land...!"
"And what could the animals of Nottingham expect in return?" The bear retorted angrily. "Slavery? Poverty? Starvation? A lifetime of back-breaking labor with nothing to show for it while Jenner and his friends become richer and more corrupt, if that's even possible?" Brutus vehemently shook his head. "I should have stopped this nightmare the moment I realized what Jenner was up to! Well DAMN my hide for being so greedy and not doing so, and damn YOURS for carrying on this pathetic charade!" He shouted. "At least I have the guts to admit MY error and try to set it right! Can YOU say the same?"
But Sullivan had lost all interest in Brutus and was now sizing up Galen. "An' what about you, Old-timer? Why's a decent farmer like you associating with treasonous scum like this?" He asked, shaking his head; his voice taking a tone of something vaguely resembling sympathy.
The elder fox returned the wolf's narrow-eyed gaze with one of his own, drawing himself to his full height. "Justin is my brother-in-law." He said, the usual gentleness of his voice now gone; replaced by a tone of deep anger at this idiot's arrogance. "And, quite frankly, I'm proud to stand with him in his efforts to oppose you and Jenner and what you both represent."
"Ah, so you're the owner of this lovely home!" Sullivan suddenly commented, nodding his understanding. "I'm also told that you're influential with most of the other local farmers!" He said. He then pointed past them toward the cottage. "What if I told you that you and your fair wife could move back into it without fear of confiscation under His Majesty's Repossession Decree? I can talk him into making an exception in your case, but you gotta show me some good faith by talkin' the rest of the animals of Nottingham out of ruining their lives because of some fool's half-baked idealism and into returning to their homes." He said enthusiastically.
Galen rolled his eyes in exasperation. To Justin he said, with ill-concealed contempt, "I can see why you loathe this moron so much! Had he been a member of my Regiment, he'd have spent his career digging latrines!" He then turned his attention to Sullivan. "To listen to the likes of you insult both my brother AND my intelligence goes well beyond stupidity and into the realm of absurdity!" He told the Sheriff without heed to the anger and disbelief that were now on the wolf's face. "While it's true that I very much want to resume the life that my wife and I were so happily living, before you and your King so rudely and brutally deprived us of that particular pleasure; the price, the betrayal that you demand, is more than my conscience or my very Soul are willing to bear! I cannot, I will not, use whatever influence you may believe me to possess to deceive my neighbors!" He declared.
"Then so be it! Consider yourselves under arrest! The charge is Treason to the Crown!" Sullivan angrily told his one-time colleague-turned-adversary. He then yelled, seemingly to no one in particular, "Blackjack, fire!" After a few seconds, during which the Sheriff and his Deputies began glancing nervously about, the door to the cottage burst open and out marched an almost jet-black ferret, wrists tied in front of him, immediately followed by Ezekiel Stabb, who casually shouldered (if a weasel could be said to shoulder anything) a bow, a quiver of arrows and four sheathed swords.
Justin sadly and knowingly shook his head as the weasel gave his reluctant captive a shove in the direction of his nonplussed colleagues. "Saw 'im in the lower branches of a nearby tree. It was quite a trick sneakin' up an' takin' 'im without makin' a peep." Stabb said breezily.
Sullivan glared disgustedly at the ferret, who shrugged with embarrassment, for a few moments, then asked Stabb, "And you've decided to turn Traitor as well, I suppose?"
The weasel's eyes narrowed as a strange, sardonic smile crept onto his face. "That's a laugh; comin' from the likes of a liar, arsonist an' murderer like you. I prefer to think of myself as a convert to a somewhat more enlightened cause." He said.
"Be that as it may," Sullivan said with growing irritation, "You're all in a heap o' trouble as of now. If you'll come along peaceably, I can promise all of you fair trials an' fine hangin's..."
"Really?" Justin asked as a bemused smile appeared on his face, although his eyes remained tense and alert. "Fortunately; or unfortunately, depending on one's point of view; I'm well aquatinted with your idea of "fair" and I believe that my friends here will agree with me when I say that we want no part of whatever plans you and Jenner have for Nottinghamshire. I've informed them that their new Sheriff is not to be trusted under any circumstances, as evidenced by your unwillingness to play by the rules and obey the simple condition that Lady Kluck gave you. So, as a "fair" warning to you and your so-called "Deputies", I'd advise you not to venture too far from the towns or villages because from this day forward Sherwood Forest belongs to those of us who will no longer tolerate what's being done to Britain." He said.
"Is that a threat?" Sullivan demanded, his face contorting into an angry sneer.
"You can take it any way you want." Justin told him impassively. "But from now on, the Nottingham Organization is the sworn enemy of Jenner, his friends and those who serve them." With that, the fox motioned to his friends and began determinedly walking toward the path by which they had come. Silently Brutus, Galen and Ages; who had by now doused the fire and scattered the dead ash with the tip of his crutch; followed.
"You're making a serious mistake!" Sullivan yelled after them with what might have been a hint of desperation in his voice. "This isn't a battle that you can win!"
Justin stopped, seemed to hesitate a few moments, then turned to face the wolf. "I don't doubt that we'll lose a battle or two along the way," He said, his voice sad and tired. "But we'll eventually win this war because you and Jenner have made it abundantly clear that we have nothing to lose by fighting it." He again turned and headed for the path.
Stabb stood guard for several minutes, until the rest of the group had disappeared into the forest, then began moving away to join them.
"Hey!" The wolf shouted. There was almost a tone of petulance in his voice. "What about my weapons?"
The weasel stopped, turned around, drew the most elaborately decorated sword from it's equally elaborate scabbard, and began making a show of inspecting it. "Sorry, Sheriff," He taunted a few moments later. "But our 'smith's a bit short of scrap at the moment. He'll appreciate your contribution, though." With that the weasel rendered a mocking salute, resheathed the blade, and began jogging away.
Chapter Sixty
"DAMN, YOU IDIOT! HOW COULD YOU BE SO INCOMPETENT?" Sullivan screamed as Deputy Sillus gnawed at the rope that bound Blackjack's wrists.
"It's not MY fault, Boss!" The ferret retorted in anger and embarrassment. "That weasel's as good as anyone I've EVER seen! Hell, isn't that why you an' the King hired 'im in the first place?" He asked.
Sullivan waved a dismissive paw. "Yeah, yeah. But how were we supposed to know that he'd turn on us an' join the enemy?" He asked rhetorically. Just then, with an audible snap, the rope around Blackjack's wrists broke and the binding fell to the ground. The wolf then wordlessly stomped off toward the path leading to Nottingham; the others quietly trailing a safe distance behind, not daring to disturb whatever dark thoughts of revenge their superior was probably contemplating against the former residents of the town and a certain former Captain-of-the-Guard.
At about the same time, in another part of the forest, Liam Wyclyffe rejoined his comrades as they hiked back toward their headquarters. "Any of them attempting to follow us?" Justin asked.
"Not that I could see." The hare replied. "They were all headed back for town, last I left 'em."
"Sullivan may be a lazy coward, but he's NOT stupid." Observed Justin. "He won't risk his skin unless he knows the odds of success are stacked squarely in his favor. On the other side of that coin is the fact that; even with you," He nodded toward Brutus. "Your former Deputies," He then indicated Liam. "And a few gracious volunteers;" He nodded at Stabb. "We have precious few options for defending the Estate when Sullivan's attack comes, and I speak with utmost confidence and from no small amount of experience when I say that an attack WILL come. The problem is that I have no way of predicting WHEN it will come." He added glumly.
"What about your nephew, Timothy?" Stabb asked. "After all, he did predict that fire and our coming to help you."
"No." Justin said with an emphatic shake of his head. "His 'gift' may be useful to us in its own way at times, but I'd be a fool to stake our success in this venture solely on that basis."
"It's gonna take a while to train enough troops to make the Estate truely defensible." Liam observed. "After all, we've only just started training in earnest and it'll be at least another couple weeks until any of the recruits are ready for actual weapons training."
Justin gave a resigned shrug. "We'll simply have to step up the night-watches and accelerate the training schedules as best we can. I know it's a hardship, especially to those with families, but we have to be ready for anything that Sullivan might be planning to throw at us." He said grimly.
"I suppose I could re-write the training schedule," Galen offered. "Make weapons training a higher priority."
"An' I can always reschedule the watches." Brutus said to Liam. "That'll take some of the burden off those with training assignments."
"Thanks,"Said Liam. "That'll help a lot."
The rest of the long walk to the Locksley Estate was made in thoughtful silence; other than the tap of Dr. Ages crutch against the hard, cold ground; as each pondered the implications, for better or worse, of what they had just been a party to.
It was near-dusk by the time they stepped out of the now-rather-oppressive gray cloak of the forest that would be their only sanctuary for who-knew-how-long. To the West, a half-orb of Sun reflected its waning yellow-orange-pink off of an approaching line of cumulus and cirrus clouds that was growing along the tree-combed horizon. To the East, the darkness was pierced by the light of the first evening stars. In the cleared portion of the Estate enclosing the manor-house and its surrounding tent-city a small group of animals, mostly children, was gathered in a circle watching and applauding Will Scarlett; who was entertaining them with an impromptu acrobatics display.
While Liam and Galen stayed to watch the last few minutes of the performance; Brutus, Ages and Stabb went to see what was for dinner. Justin made straight for his office, where he found Mrs. Brisbee waiting.
"How did the meeting go?" She asked, though her expression told him that the question was purely rhetorical.
"'Meeting' is hardly the word I'd use, Marian." He said as he sank wearily into his chair. "'Confrontation' would be a far more accurate assessment of our encounter." He then closed his eyes and began gently rubbing the fur around their sockets. "Hell, I may as well have been screaming at one of these walls for all the good it did us! Sullivan wasn't exactly receptive to anything that I had to say." He growled sharply.
"Then why bother to go at all? Why not have just stuck a knife with an ultimatum or a list of demands attached to it into his front door in the dead of night?" She asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.
Justin hauled himself out of his chair and began pacing restlessly. "A knife in the door would have told him that someone was unhappy with the current situation, but he wouldn't necessarily have taken it seriously. In Sullivan's, and by extension Jenner's, mind a few rebellious peasants are nothing more than a minor irritant to be ignored, avoided, or bought off if possible or; if they get too out-of-control; destroyed. Forgive me for sounding self-important, but my showing up changes that. Now he knows that he's up against more than just a bunch of dirt-poor, uneducated and untrained farmers and villagers." He said pointedly.
Mrs. Brisbee cocked her head questioningly to one side. "I'm no soldier, so I probably don't have your grasp of Military tactics and strategy; but haven't you sacrificed whatever element of surprise we may have had against him by revealing yourself as Leader?" She asked.
"Probably." Justin replied. He then stopped his pacing as a sly half-smile crept across his face. "But I also know that he has to report our 'conversation', such as it was, to Jenner. And I'd also be willing to wager a cart-full of Crowns that he's shaking in his fur at the thought of having to inform His Infernal Majesty that his late, unlamented brother's ex-Captain-of-the-Guard is leading what could become a serious challenge to his already shaky rule. That alone may be worth whatever surprise has been lost." He said.
The vixen's brow furrowed with skepticism but she simply shrugged. "If you say so." She said, her tone distant.
Justin went to her and, kneeling down in front of her, took her paws in his own and gazed into her eyes; the look in them as distant as her voice had been. "Marian," He said. "I realize that I've taken a huge risk today. Everyone here has taken a huge risk with their own lives and those of their families. And while I'd be an idiot if I tried to lie to you and tell you outright that everything was going to be okay, I have to believe that we can win this fight. But, like it or not, in order to win I'm probably going to have to take many more like the one I did today. On occasion I'm going to be forced to trade one percieved advantage for another, hoping that I haven't needlessly traded innocent lives in the process."
For several seconds Mrs. Brisbee sat unmoving, staring into space as if in a trance.
"Marian?" Justin asked worriedly, reaching up to gently stroke the fur of one side of her face with the back of his fingers.
Mrs. Brisbee blinked and jumped in her seat a bit, as if startled. "I'm-I'm sorry." She apologized softly, a bit embarrassed.
Justin smiled. "No problem. It's not as if I got a full night's sleep either." He said sympathetically. At that moment there came a knock at the door. "It's open." Justin called out. Gwynnyth Wyclyffe peeked inside.
"Mama sent me to tell you that dinner's ready." The young hare; who had obviously been working in the kitchen, as could be seen from the food stains on her dress and apron; informed them breathlessly.
"We'll be down in a moment." Justin told her.
The child nodded and quickly left, closing the door behind her.
"Tell you what," Justin said as he stood and helped Mrs. Brisbee from her seat, "Why don't we just call it a day right after dinner? You know, just eat and go straight to bed. How does that sound?" He asked.
"Sounds great." Admitted Mrs. Brisbee, "But I've got to supervise the clean-up..."
"Let someone else do it." Justin said.
"But it's my job." She said.
"Why not let Linney supervise for once?" He asked. "After all, that's what assistants are for. One of the things that they taught me in Officer training was: 'Know when to delegate responsibilities'." He said.
Mrs. Brisbee thought hard for a few moments, but finally nodded her assent. "Okay," She said, "I guess I can ask her. And I'll have Klucky see that the children are put to bed."
"Great!" Justin exclaimed, his enthusiasm momentarily overcoming his fatigue. He waved an inviting paw toward the door. "Would Madam do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner?" He asked, his eyes sparkling with a merriment they hadn't shown for far too long.
Mrs. Brisbee smiled, genuinely happy for the first time in many weeks. "It would be my pleasure!" She exclaimed, taking his arm in hers.
Chapter Sixty-One
It was about two days before Gillian Gisbourne dared venture out from the crude shelter that shed found in Londontowns most run-down area, in shock over her father and brother's arrest (apparently with the full knowledge and consent of the King himself!) by one of their family's oldest and most implacable adversaries; The Grandmaster of the Mercantile Guilds. But the one thought that had kept haunting her was the image of the crimson-garbed boar viciously striking the small fox-like animal (although she knew perfectly well that it really wasn't, having known plenty of foxes in her lifetime) for no apparent reason other than simply the enjoyment of inflicting pain on another animal. The thought which presently troubled her mind was that of the torments her brother Geoffrey might even now be suffering as a victim of the Grandmaster's rage.
Needless to say, she was also quite hungry and tired and her bones aching and cramped from two cold and restless nights curled in a broken crate in the basement of an abandoned building. She gathered up what courage she could find and crawled out of a street-level window of the derelict structure. Fortunately the day was warmer than was normal for the season and this particular street was, at least for the moment, deserted. But what to do now? With her father and one brother prisoners of the Crown, and her other brother loyal to the King who held them; she was at an utter loss for ideas on what her next move should be. The thought of going to the Hospital flashed into her mind, but she dismissed it out of paw. The Grandmaster would no doubt have it under sharp-eyed surveillance so as not to make the same mistake twice. It occurred to her to seek refuge among her fathers guild-partners or friends, but their number was dwindling rapidly and they would either turn her away or; more likely; turn her over to the Grandmaster in exchange for whatever reward that foul monster might deign to favor them with. No, as much as the thought pained her; she realized that she was now totally alone. Worse yet, she was also burdened by the status of being a wanted criminal of the worst sort: a traitor to the King! Who in their right mind would help one so accused?
Cautiously she began making her way through the streets and alleyways of the City, furtively glancing back every few moments to make sure that she wasnt being followed. Her once-clean dress was now gray-brown with dust and her usually-well-groomed fur, which shed always taken a certain amount of pride in, was also probably more of a mess than she cared to think about; but she realized, with no small amount of irony, that this might actually be working to her advantage because, to anyone other than a close acquaintance, she probably looked like just another street-waif or alms-seeker and would be studiously ignored.
It was around mid-afternoon when she spotted a familiar face as she was walking aimlessly through a small, bedraggled-looking park in one of the many lower-class neighborhoods that were scattered throughout the City. He was a badger, just approaching middle-age, named Silas Poorbutton. Before Jenner came to power hed been a Professor at one of Britain's most prestigious universities and her father had also hired him several years back as a consultant on Guild affairs. But instead of the usual stately Robe, suit-coat and cap that would have served to identify his Academic background; he wore an old, faded, stained and many-times-patched collarless shirt and a pair of overalls in roughly similar condition. But even this state of dress could in no way conceal the nobility with which he carried himself, even as he maneuvered a wheelbarrow full of dirt.
She slowly approached him and cleared her throat, which was beginning to feel like sandpaper after two days without water.
He gave her barely a glance as he shoveled some soil into a small hole. "Im sorry, my dear, but I have no alms for you. You'll have to look elsewhere." He said; his voice, while bitter in tone, still conveying a great deal of patience and intelligence.
"It's not necessarily alms that I seek," She replied. "Some water would be welcome though."
The badger stiffened instantly and sharply turned his head to face her. "Who...Who are you?" he asked, a hint of fear in his voice.
"My name is Gillian Gisbourne." She said calmly.
The badger dug the blade of his shovel into the pile of dirt at his feet and then, with a finger, motioned for her to turn around; as a school-master would inspect a student on the first day of class. Gillian complied, although she was momentarily confused as to the badgers intentions. Finally, after shed turned two complete circles, the badger nodded his satisfaction. "You'll have to forgive my skepticism; but the last time I saw you, you were still in your mothers arms." He said, the relief in his voice mixed with no small amount of joy. He then stepped over to her and took both of her paws in his own. "My condolences on her death, but I see that at least her beauty hasnt completely disappeared from a world that so little appreciates that particular concept at the moment." He whispered sadly. He then turned and, still holding one of her paws, led her away from where he'd been working. "Come now, my child, lets see what we can do about that drink of water."
A few minutes later, Gillian was drinking thirstily as the badger worked a small well-pump. "What happened to you?" She asked him between gulps.
"I assume that youre referring to my present state of dress and employment." Poorbutton stated with bitter amusement. Gillian paused for a moment and nodded. "I'm afraid I have His Majesty to thank for my present state of affairs" He said sourly, motioning to her to keep drinking. "You see," He continued, "When His late Majesty King Nicodemus was murdered, he' along with Sir Jonathan Brisbee and a number of concerned citizens, your father and I among them; was working on a new law which would have substantially curtailed certain enforcement powers of Britain's Sheriffs which, we felt, were being sorely abused. Unfortunately Jenner, by virtue of his position as Prince Regent, was party to the plan and no doubt convinced the Sheriffs to join him in his little palace coup by promising them that such a measure could never pass if its writer were no longer in power. After killing his elder brother, he had most of us arrested and either imprisoned and stripped of lands and Title or, in my own case, stripped of my Academic credentials; without which I could make no living inside of university circles." He then sighed wistfully and continued. "Thus dishonored among my colleagues I discovered, much to my horror, that without my degrees I couldn't even so much as get a job teaching at any of the Orphanage or Prison schools. I was then forced to leave my home when it was confiscated under the Repossession Decree and spent several months as a vagrant until I found my present position as a groundskeeper for the City's Parks Commission." The badger smiled a bit, but it could not hide the sadness in his eyes. "I dont make much and its only day-to-day, but it pays for my doss and a daily meal."
None of this, except perhaps the revelation of her fathers participation, was particularly surprising to Gillian. Her father had spoken cryptically of new freedoms for the animals of Britain in the weeks preceding King Nicodemus death, but he had never been specific enough that shed paid any real attention.
"I heard about what happened to Gil and Geoffrey." Silas remarked. "I kind of wondered when the Grandmaster would get around to using his influence over Jenner to round up his own business and political enemies."
Gillian paused in her libations and looked sharply up at the badger. "You knew that this was going to happen? Why didn't you tell father or Geoffrey?" She angrily demanded.
Silas stopped pumping, frowned for a moment, opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. Instead, he again took her by a paw and ushered her to a nearby bench. "Look, Gillian," He began as they sat down, "I know that your father never included you in affairs of the Guild to the extent that he did Geoffrey or Giles. Your mother always wanted to keep you unsullied by the sometimes dirty politics involved in leading it. She believed, rightly or not, that you were meant to be innocent and above the petty corruption that running the Guild sometimes entailed. Unfortunately it was in the nature of his occupation that your father would make enemies, powerful enemies, like the Grandmaster. Did I know that the Grandmaster would come to take your father and brother at that particular time and on that particular day? No. But I'd told him; more times, in fact, than I care to remember; that the Grandmaster is a scheming, greedy and hate-filled opportunist. Hell, Jenner and the Grandmaster see each other as ideological soul-mates; The King on the political side and the ÔMaster Merchant; on the financial. That each would wreak revenge on their respective enemies, real or not, once each had achieved their own particular brand of absolute power was all but inevitable." He explained.
Suddenly, many parts to a puzzle whose pieces had been floating in Gillian's mind for almost a year were now coming together and forming a more complete and horrifying picture of her family's present situation. "Would the Grandmaster actually go so far as to have father and Geoffrey executed as traitors?" She asked fearfully.
The badger shrugged and shook his head. "That would depend entirely on Jenner." He stated uneasily. "I suppose that if the Grandmaster could trump up enough of a circumstantial case against them, Jenner would be more than willing to give such an order; and considering how closely Gil and King Nicodemus worked together, Jenner probably hates your family at least as much as he hated his adoptive brother."
Gillian thought hard about the desperate situation that she was in, weighing and discarding numerous options. She would not, under ANY circumstances, leave the City while her father and brother were in Jenners custody. But to remain meant eventual capture at the hands of the Grandmaster, who had apparently been charged (or, more likely, charged himself) with the "removal" of all "subversive" (at least as defined by him) elements that might threaten Jenners iron-clawed rule. It was no small surprise, then, when an idea began to form in the back of her mind. "Smirk." She said quietly.
"Excuse me?" The badger uttered, looking at her strangely; as if she'd just crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.
"The Society to Maintain the Rule of the King. S-M-R-K. Smirk." She stated. "Dad created it just after Jenner was crowned in order to explore ways to lawfully remove him from the Throne. But after he became ill, Geoffrey took it over." She said.
Poorbutton's eyes widened and his jaw dropped in amazement. An actual plot to remove Jenner from the throne? That such a plan might originate from the Aristocracy wouldn't have surprised him in the least; after all, Jenner had wasted no time in depriving them of their property and titles once he had assumed the Throne. But such a risky initiative from among the usually conservative commercial sector? And led by the Master of the smallest of the Guilds, no less! Obviously, he had either sorely underestimated Gilbert's influence among the other Guildmasters; or they were more frightened of Jenner (and, he assumed, the Grandmaster) than even the Aristocracy had been. "So what happened?" Poorbutton asked.
"For some reason, they couldnt seem to agree on a way to remove Jenner. Soon everything just sort of fell apart." She explained. "Geoffrey then began trying to take matters into his own paws by trying to turn Giles against Jenner." Gillian then shook her head sadly. "I can only assume that, somehow, the Grandmaster got wind of Geoffreys plan and convinced Jenner to issue the warrants to arrest him and Dad for treason."
Poorbutton nodded pensively. "Makes sense to me." He agreed, "But I dont see how it helps your situation." He added gloomily.
But Gillian was no longer listening to the badger. In her mind she was examining a single, last option; one that was so dangerous, so utterly daring, that, with a lot of work and persuasion and a certain amount of luck, it just MIGHT actually work. "Never mind me." She said, a new strength of purpose and authority in her voice. "When do you get off work?" She asked.
Using as his reference the position of the sun in the partially-cloudy late-afternoon sky, the badger made a few quick calculations. "About another two hours or so, why?" He asked, more than a little surprised by the rather sudden change in her demeanor.
"Because I have an organization to put back together." She said, her golden-yellow eyes hard-set with grim determination. The badger opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but Gillian stopped him with an uplifted paw and sprang from her seat with renewed vigor. "Ill be at the home of Guildmaster Truart about an hour after sunset to explain everything." She called to him over her shoulder as she set off at a brisk walk. And in mere moments she was out of sight.
After finishing his work in the park and collecting the days wages, Silas went and paid his nights doss; but instead of heading for the local public house where he normally ate, he made his way as unobtrusively as possible to the residence that Gillian had specified.
Leonidas Truart was the Master of the Guild of Stonecutters and Masons, Britains oldest recognized labor guild. While not related to the late King Nicodemus, he was every inch the lion that Nicodemus had been. In fact, the Truart family had historically been staunch allies of the House PenWallace and had even; until relatively recently; contributed several generations of Truart males to distinguished service in either the Military or Civil branches of Britain's Government. It was a measure of the power of the Truart name that while hed been stripped of his Titles, Jenner hadn't tried to arrest him or confiscate his vast land holdings under the infamous Repossession Decree even though he'd played no small role in King Nicodemuss attempt to reform British law enforcement.
The Truart home was an ancient and surprisingly modest (for the particular neighborhood in which it was located, anyway) stone (What else?) building set in a comparatively small, unfenced plot of land. (It did not escape Silas's expert eye that, by way of contrast, all of the other residences in the area were large manor-houses surrounded by high, sturdy iron fences and accessible only through well-secured gates.)
With a certain amount of trepidation Silas made his way to the door and used a large, rusty iron knocker to announce his presence to the occupants. Moments later a ferret; wearing the standard Butlers uniform of a black swallow-tailed suitcoat, starched white high-collared shirt and striped ribbon bow-tie in the colors of his local Servants Guild; opened the door and eyed him with undisguised disdain. "I'm quite sorry, sir," The ferret began, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice. "I'm afraid we have no more servant positions available at the moment. If you'll leave an address where you may be reached, I'll contact you when one becomes vacant." He then took a small card from a tablestand next to the door and pressed it into Silas paw. "Here," The ferret continued. "This voucher entitles you to a free lunch at the Mason Guildhall." The ferret then picked up a piece of paper and dipped a pen into a small bottle of ink as if preparing to write.
"Im much obliged, sir, but I actually came to speak to Master Truart." Silas said apologetically.
"Oh really?" The ferret asked with more than a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "And who should I tell him..?"
Just then a deep, angry voice barked, "Bentleigh! Is that another peddlar?" From somewhere inside and upstairs.
Quite suddenly, the ferret cringed in fear; dropping his pen on the floor and leaving a small spatter of ink on the varnished wood. "I dont believe so, Master Leonidas; at least he isn't dressed like one!" He called out nervously.
"Well then give Ôim a voucher and send im away!" The voice barked again.
With something approaching desperation now in his voice, instead of the original haughtiness, the ferret, without thinking, quickly swiped another card from the tablestand and again pressed it into Silas; paw and shrugged, telling him, "Well, you heard him! I'm afraid that whatever business you have with him will have to wait for another day! Please come back soon! Good-bye!"
But Silas kept his wits about him and refused to budge. "I'm sorry, sir, but I must see Master Truart as soon as possible." He stated, politely but firmly. "It may be a matter of life and death!"
"BENTLEIGH! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON DOWN THERE?" The voice now roared, like the explosion of a newly active volcano.
The ferret struggled with Silas for a few seconds more but, finally realizing that it was a waste of energy, gave up and, with a defeated shrug, gestured to the badger to follow him. "I'm bringing the fellow up, sir!" He almost squeaked, such was his unease. "He says he wishes to discuss a matter of utmost urgency!" He led Silas to the upstairs study where, in an overstuffed chair facing the door the pale yellow light of a reading lamp shined on a sight that Silas thought he would never witness. Where once sat a strong, proud Aristocrat was now an old, hollow-eyed near-invalid. Even though he wore a robe and was covered to his chest in blankets and there was a roaring fire in the hearth, the lion visibly shivered. His once sleek fur was now largely gone; replaced by great patches of dry, gray, peeling skin; and his long mane, prized among his species as a sign of leonine virility, was reduced to a few stringy tufts that stuck out of his bony visage.
The horror and pity that was in Silas heart must have been readily apparent on his face as well, for the lion grinned a bit and said, "Don't worry, my boy; I actually feel somewhat better than I look at the moment." He then shifted his gaze toward the ferret. "Well, Bentleigh, where are your manners?" The ferret gave Truart a confused, blank stare. Truart rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh. "Introductions, Bentleigh, introductions!" He said, a small bit of humor mixing with the impatience in his voice.
"Oh yes, sir, so sorry about that!" Bentleigh quickly said. Once again his voice assumed the imperious, butlerly air that he had used when answering the door. "Master Leonidas, may I present..., uh, may I present..." Nonplussed, Bentleigh quickly realized that, in all the commotion, he'd never thought to ASK this badger what his name was.
Silas came to the Butler's rescue and introduced himself. "I was an advisor to Master Gilbert Gisbourne of the Guild of Small Businesses." He added by way of explanation.
The lion invited Silas to seat himself at a smaller, but no less comfortable, chair set at an angle that faced his own and, once his guest was at ease, gazed intently at him for a moment and then nodded. "Yes," He said slowly, "I do seem to remember a badger that Old Gil used to bring with him, always preaching gloom and doom about how the Sheriffs needed to be kept in check or they'd eventually usurp the power of the King."
Silas gave an embarrassed nod and chuckle as the memory of those meetings flooded back into his mind. "Yes sir, that was me; sorry to say." He replied.
The lions gaze narrowed. "Well dont be." He said acidly. Then a sadness came to his eyes and he suddenly looked very tired. "You and Gil were, as can be seen from the events of the past several months, absolutely right about the need for legal reform. And Old Gil was most especially correct in his warnings to dear King Nicodemus about Britains fate if that greedy little whelp Jenner ever got his paws on the Crown." He then sighed dejectedly. "But then, he seems to be the one having the last laugh nowadays doesn't he." He said caustically.
"Actually, that's one of the reasons that I'm here." Silas said. He then gave a quick narrative of his fall into disfavor after his arrest by Jenner and his meeting with Gillian Gisbourne.
After hearing Silas account of the elder Gisbourne's, and his youngest son's, arrest by the Grandmaster for treason, Truart became livid. "How DARE he!" The lion screamed. "I'll roast that damned pigs liver on a spit while he watches if its the last thing I ever do!" He vowed. Silas knew that Truart hated the Grandmaster almost as much as Gilbert Gisbourne had because Truart had for years suspected that the Grandmaster was hijacking goods, such as; among other things; expensive stoneworking tools, from his own transportation routes and, after collecting the insurance on the "stolen" items, selling them at an immense profit to black-marketeers. Sometimes the criminals would even get caught with the goods, but the Grandmaster always protested that he was just as much a victim as those who had contracted him to get their goods to market. And there was always the implied threat that none of the transportation Guilds, which the Mercantile Guilds all but owned, would accept cargo from anyone who complained too loudly about this particular state of affairs.
A heavy clang of iron on wood roused Silas from his thoughts as Bentleigh quickly excused himself from their presence to go and answer the door.
"You'll have to forgive Bentleigh, Mr. Poorbutton." Truart said in a low voice. "Ever since my illness began he's become very protective toward me." He sighed and, giving the badger a weak smile, motioned him closer. Silas leaned toward the lion. "I only yell at him because it lets him think that I need him more than I actually do." Truart stage-whispered, a spark of humor in his eyes.
Silas returned the smile and nodded his understanding just as Bentleigh and the new arrival could be heard climbing the last of the stairs. Moments later the Butler escorted the guest into the room and, with orders from Truart to prepare and bring up a meal, immediately left; closing the door behind him.
Without formality, Truart began. "Miss Gisbourne, I see that youre looking well." And indeed, Gillian had somehow cleaned and brushed her fur; although her clothes were still somewhat the worse for wear. "My condolences on the death of your dear Mother and the current situation which has befallen your family." He continued, his voice carefully neutral. "What, if I may ask, is the purpose of this visit?"
"The Society to Maintain the Rule of the King. I wish to claim leadership of it by right of succession." She said simply.
Truarts eyes narrowed as a frown darkened his face. The room seemed to grow dark as well. "I don't know what youre talking about." He hissed through clenched teeth.
"Oh really?" Gillian asked with a bitterness matching Truart's. "I did a bit of searching at Dads offices, luckily I happen to know the place a lot better than the Grandmasters spies, and found the minutes of all your ÔSmirk; meetings in his little hideaway safe where all the REAL Guild records are kept. I doubt that Jenner OR the Grandmaster would be in a very forgiving mood if even a single page of those meetings made its way to them." She said, her hard eyes boring into his.
Silas couldnt believe his ears! The young, pretty; even if she did look rather like a street-waif; daughter of Gilbert Gisbourne actually blackmailing one of her fathers best friends by threatening to expose both him AND her own family to genuine charges of treason against the Crown? The word "mad" wouldve been a serious underestimation of the situation. But then something even stranger, if such was at all possible, happened. The look of stark terror that Truart wore became first a look of realization, then a sly smile, then the lion broke into a relatively hearty laugh.
"Hah, Young lady! By the spirits, you most certainly ARE your fathers daughter!" He cried ecstatically.
Silas exhaled in relief and began shaking his head. "For a moment, you had even me going; I'm glad it was all just a bluff!" He said.
Truart gave him a searing look. "For one supposedly so well educated," He said scathingly, "You certainly are a naive dunce!"
"I-I don't understand!" The badger stammered.
Truart rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You idiot!" He exclaimed. "I have no doubt that such minutes to our meetings DO exist! It's exactly the kind of thing that Old Gil would have done to make sure that none of us would betray our cause...and his." A note of admiration now crept into his voice. "He's a Survivor, that one. And I certainly don't doubt for a moment that our young Miss Gisbourne would go to any length to try to rescue her family, even if it meant scaring the wits out of a bunch of silly, complacent old fools more intent on cutting their losses than preventing the destruction of their own Nation." With an anguished groan, he then tried to pull himself more upright onto his chair. After Silas helped him with this apparently painful chore, the lion continued. "Please forgive me, my child!" He pleaded. "Even in my present condition I should have done everything in my power to help your father and young Geoffrey in their efforts to rid us all of that worthless twit pretending to be our King!"
"Then why did you leave the group? You attended all of the meetings while Dad was in charge, but only the first few after Geoffrey took over." She asked, her tone now one of curiosity rather than anger.
Truart slumped back into his chair as if suddenly drained of all will. "When your father started Smirk, as you call it, it was our original purpose merely to dethrone Jenner by lawful, non-violent means. He picked the name precisely because it sounded so misleading; if he ever happened to get wind of its existence, Jenner would, hopefully, believe that the rule meant to be maintained was his own when in reality it was that of the late Nicodemus we were hoping to preserve." He explained. "We got an offer of help from the former Captain of Nicodemus's Royal Guard, but he never showed up for his meeting with us. Then your father suddenly fell ill and young Geoffrey took over. But he was such a hot-blooded lad! He kept going on about how Jenner had somehow poisoned Old Gil and how it was too late to rid Britain of her tyranny by any means other than violence. Then Geoffrey, somehow, actually managed to recruit Jenner's own Captain-of-the-Guard and promised him the Chancellorship and a Titlement if he would aid us in our plot; even if only to stand by and not stop us while we did the actual dirty work. Regrettably, such a chance never did manifest itself. Worse yet, the Sheriff of Nottingham resigned his office to go join some paltry backwoods militia and Jenner; in a cruel irony; sent his Captain-of-the-Guard to fill the post. It was at this point that I and most of the other members of the group decided we'd had our fill of plots and counter-plots and we resigned in order to get on with our lives and try to survive this hideous Dark Age as best we knew how."
Gillian nodded knowingly. "And that's when Geoff decided to take things into his own paws." She sighed.
Truart shrugged helplessly. "I tried to warn him that he was going to be playing a very dangerous game by the Grandmaster's rules, but he absolutely refused to listen." He said, a genuine sorrow in his voice.
"That's my family all right." She stated ruefully. "Mom always said our stubbornness would be our downfall."
"There, there, my child." Truart said sympathetically. He scooted himself over slightly and patted the resultant empty space, indicating that she should have a seat with him on the chair. After a moments slight hesitation, she joined him and he took one of his blankets and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Your father and brother's hearts are in the right place," He told her soothingly. "They wished only to try to stop the coming madness that none of us could see before it started. It is to their credit that they persisted so long against such overwhelming odds, just as it is my shame; and that of my colleagues; that we became so willfully blind and deaf to the evil that has consumed us all in one way or another."
Gillian turned and gave him a hopeful smile, what must have been her first since her ordeal began. "Then you'll help me?" She asked.
"Of course, my child. I would be remiss to do otherwise." He said without hesitation.
A moment later there came a knock at the door and Bentleigh entered carrying a portable serving table with four bowls of barley soup, a loaf of walnut sweetbread, a large carafe of fruit juice, four small glasses and a few other delicacies which he placed between Truart and Silas Poorbutton's chairs. From a small compartment he removed four small, ornate silver trays and; placing a bowl of the soup, a slice of the sweetbread and a glass which he filled with the juice on it; gave one to each of the room's occupants, leaving his own on the serving table. He then went to a far corner of the room and brought a chair for himself, setting it so that he could eat from his own tray and serve his employer and the guests at the same time.
After a while, when their trays were empty and their stomachs full, Poorbutton politely wiped his mouth with his napkin and, thanking his host for the wonderful meal, took his leave, explaining that he needed to get back to his rented room before the landlady locked the doors for the night.
"Nonsense!" The lion declared. "I have an even better idea." He then smiled cannily. "How would you like a job?" He asked.
Poorbutton raised a questioning brow. "Mr. Bentleigh tells me that all of your servant positions are filled." He then pointed to his filthy clothing. "Unless, that is, you happen to need a well-educated gardener." He said ironically.
Truart started to laugh heartily at the badgers little joke, but it turned into a fit of coughing. Bentleigh quickly grabbed the carafe and had his employer down some of the juice. After a few moments, Truart managed to clear his throat and said, "No, my boy, I have something less physically and more mentally demanding in mind; something that would put your education and experience in governmental and commercial affairs to far better use than they are at present."
"Go on." Poorbutton prompted.
"I should like to retain you in the same capacity you worked for Old Gil," Truart began. "Only you'll be advising Gillian and me on how best to rid Britain of her present ruler; and this time, dear boy," He said with a sparkle in his eyes. "I can state with absolute certainty that youll have only the most receptive congregation for whatever gloom and doom you might need to preach."
Poorbutton was taken aback by Truarts offer. Certainly it had far more to offer than the paw-to-mouth existence that he was being forced to endure at present. His supervisor had informed him when hed taken the job that it would last only until the first major snowfall; after which, according to rumor, the Parks Commission was to be dissolved and its lands confiscated by the Crown and, again according to rumor, auctioned off to certain of Jenner's more loyal supporters. After that, he had no idea what the future held. But to accept the position meant that he, Truart and his ex-employer's daughter would secretly be committing treason against the Crown, a crime which; should it be uncovered; would most certainly condemn them all to the gallows. But the more he thought about it, the more he knew that he had no real choice BUT to accept Truarts proposal. The fate that had befallen his former employer was no doubt only the first of what would most likely turn into a long, sad string of such arrests. History and simple logic dictated that it was only a matter of time before Jenner and the Grandmaster's naked desire for absolute power would begin to feed into their already rampant paranoia. Once real enemies or opponents were safely locked up; or better yet, in their depraved minds, dead; they would inevitably begin to see treason in even the smallest slights, real or imagined, against them by even their staunchest supporters. Eventually no one would be safe from the horrors that they would, with an increasing blood-lust, begin to inflict on others; using the security of the Kingdom as their pretext and the power of the Crown as their weapon and shield. An invisible shiver ran down Poorbuttons spine to the tip of his tail as he nodded and said, "I accept." Then asked, "But do you know what you're getting YOUR self into?"
The lion's eyes narrowed. "My boy," He intoned in a voice that left no doubt of the steel that still remained within his ailing body. "Jenner and the Grandmaster are, for their own perverse pleasure, conspiring to bring my beloved Britain, a Kingdom that my family has faithfully served in one capacity or another for many generations, to a slow and agonizing ruin. Should I lose my lands, my last crown, or even my life; I absolutely WILL NOT dishonor my last moment on this world by averting my eyes for the sake of mere expediency. From now on I shall use whatever means are at my disposal, regardless of personal cost or risk, to assist young Miss Gisbourne and yourself in ridding Britain of this unspeakable corruption that now afflicts us all." He then turned and addressed Gillian. "As for you, dear lady, as far as the outside world is concerned you are now ÔJill;; a new home-nurse and secretary whom I've hired to see me through my present illness." He then grinned. "Of course, I expect no actual work from you and will assist you in every possible way in your efforts to claim your fathers organization." He explained.
"But I've been volunteering at the Public Hospital in order to get a Guild scholarship to become a nurse and I'd really like to help in order to keep up my studies." She told him. Truart accepted her offer and promised to use his influence to see what arrangements he could make with the Nurses Guild so that she wouldn't lose her eligibility.
He then turned to the ferret. "Bentleigh," He said, "Please show Miss Gisbourne to her room and then draw her bath." The ferret helped Gillian out of Truarts chair and as they began to leave the room, Truart added as an afterthought; "Im sure that we must have clothing her size somewhere around here, so you may burn those rags," He indicated her somewhat tattered dress with a wave of his scrawny paw, not bothering to hide the disdain in his voice. "At your earliest convenience."
Bentleigh nodded hearty approval of his employers order and quickly escorted Gillian to her waiting quarters.
Truart now turned his attention to his other guest and, with an only half-humorous grin, said, "Now, Mr. Poorbutton, lets get down to business; we have an insurrection to plan..."
Chapter Sixty-Two
Deputy Sillus could barely contain his glee as he peered out between the trees from his location just inside the forest. Before him lay a vast clearing, still covered in a layer of new-fallen snow, the center of which was dominated by a huge stone edifice. Around this was sprawled a motley collection of tents in varying stages of dilapidation with the odd and equally dilapidated wooden shack thrown up (or at least it certainly looked that way!) among them at random intervals. So THIS was where the traitor Justin was hiding!
The Deputy's keen eyes could make out numerous animals on the field. Most were just marching in what looked to be standard military-style formation; but a smaller number were obviously engaged in a close-quarters weapons drill, for he could clearly hear the harsh multiple klacking of wood-on-wood rather than the clear, lethal ring of steel-upon-steel. "No matter," He thought to himself, "These rebel scum will get whats coming to them soon enough."
Suddenly, he caught sight of three figures strolling out to a position just beyond the edge of the tent-area on the far side of the clearing. As quickly as possible, and careful to stay in the trees and avoid any too-sudden movements that might alert anyone on the field or in the upper stories of the building to his presence, he made his way toward them using his own more-or-less parallel course along the forest's edge. As he got closer to them, he had no difficulty recognizing the two tallest animals. One was that smart-ass weasel who'd so utterly humiliated Blackjack a few days before at the meeting in the Heath. The other was that stupid little hare that he'd captured a few weeks ago, but had been forced to give up by Sheriff Sullivan. Almost without thinking he brought a paw to his ear. It had healed enough by now so that it no longer needed a bandage, but there was a small hole where the two sides of the wound had not cleanly met. Sometime last night while he was asleep, some prankster had placed a gold loop-earring into it. Upon first discovering the bauble, he'd been livid with rage; loudly demanding that Sullivan or Blackjack find and punish the perpetrator. But the Sheriff had invited him to his office and in a calm and fatherly tone said, "Look, Deputy, its no big deal. If it were me, I'd wear it as a badge of Honor. You were injured in a fair fight an; now you've got your first battle-scar." After thinking it over for a few moments, he'd decided that the Sheriff was right; a battle-scar, especially one made so prominent, would give him a bragging-right that none of the other Deputies could yet claim. But that still didn't let the long-eared brat off the hook, not by a long shot! The hare owed him big-time, and Sillus was going to make damn sure that the price he paid was as high as it came! The smallest of them was just some rabbit that hed never seen before and was therefore not worth more than cursory attention.
He watched the trio for a few minutes longer; but when it became clear that they were going to do nothing more than practice their own weapons drills, the weasel and hare using regular-sized practice swords while the rabbit used an almost comically small version, he slipped quietly away, back toward Nottingham. Yes, now that he knew where they were, Sullivan would deal with them all soon enough.
Chapter Sixty-Three
Geoffrey Gisbourne stared down at the still-blank page of his "journal", tapping the end of his pen impatiently on the side of his head just below his ear. The problem was not that he didn't want to write, the problem was that a week in captivity had left him pretty much bereft of subjects about which to write. Finally, in frustration, he once again took in the drab grayness of the now all-too-familiar "cell" that must once have been a storeroom in one of the upper floors of the Castle.To his right, deep in the perpetual shadow of a small adjoining alcove, his father lay on an old, shabby mattress; covered only by a few rough, threadbare blankets; quietly wheezing in a troubled sleep. Geoffrey himself was seated at a tiny, decrepit desk in which hed found some water-stained paper, a pen, and a small bottle of ink. During the first few days hed used these to write a detailed narrative of their arrest and imprisonment by the Grandmaster; with the idea of getting it smuggled out by one of the members of the house-keeping staff who brought them food and who had sometimes smuggled messages to and from the former Captain-of-the-Guard, before he was promoted and sent off to the hinterlands of Nottinghamshire. Unfortunately their server always arrived under armed escort, so the chances that their plight would become public knowledge anytime soon were about nil. Unless...
His sister, Gillian, had not been home at the time of their arrest; presumably on her way back from her day as a volunteer at the Citys only remaining public Hospital. He knew that the Grandmaster probably didnt have her because he had not yet come to gloat about it. Could she be aware of their predicament? She had, after all, warned him that many of their father's friends and Guild associates were beginning to abandon them; he thought to himself sarcastically. She had seen obvious signs that he, much to his growing sorrow and rage, had stupidly and stubbornly ignored. But even if the Grandmaster didnt have her, where was she? And was she safe? Or even still alive? He shuddered at the thought of her alone, struggling to try to survive on the cruel streets of Londontown during a soon-to-be-harsh Winter...
His thoughts were interrupted by the growing tap-step, tap-step of an approaching cane and hooves. He quickly put away his writing materials (the spirits only knew what would happen if the Grandmaster should discover them!) and got up and began pacing a diagonal path on the rough, bare granite floor.
A few seconds later the old boar, dressed in; to Geoffreys eyes, at least; a bizarre parody of a costume usually worn at Royal dress functions and flanked by a pair of halberd-wielding King's Guards, stopped at the steel open-barred cell door. "And how are my guests enjoying their accommodations? Quite cozy, I should hope?" He taunted.
Geoffrey, who was facing away from him on his way to the corner opposite the alcove, stopped his pacing but did not turn. "Come on in for a few minutes an I'll give you a quick once-over." He answered sarcastically.
The boar caught the meaning of the wolf's double-entendre immediately. "I think not." He chuckled. "The reason that I've deigned to; uh," He continued, feigning effort to find the right choice of words, "Shall we say; ÔGrace; you with my presence, is that His Majesty, in his eternal wisdom, has just done me the delightful honor of officially appointing me to the Office of King's Chancellor." He then let out a childish giggle. "Isn't that simply the most exciting news?" He asked, with what Geoffrey knew to be a mocking enthusiasm.
"Oh, yippie. One more crappy idea in the long, sad history of crappy ideas." Geoffrey deadpanned. Then, crossing his arms, he turned to face the Grandmaster-cum-Chancellor, his yellow-green eyes almost glowing with defiance as he said, "What do you expect me to do, bow down and worship you? Hell, you don't even have the Amulet! Apparently Nicodemus; Captain-of-the-Guard managed to snatch it away before either Jenner OR you could get your filthy paws or hooves on it! You may have the office, but you'll never, EVER get any of the respect that your predecessors; ESPECIALLY Jonathan Brisbee; so richly deserved. You'd better bask in your victory now, Pig, because I have a strong feeling that your Chancellorship going to be a very short and bitter one!"
The Grandmaster now glared at this impertinent cub, his eyes narrowing as a calculating frown replaced the jubilant smile. "Very well, boy." He said, his voice now a malevolent half-whisper. "It's no secret that your family has considered me their blood-enemy for so many years. Actually, Ive always rather enjoyed the challenge of outwitting and outmaneuvering you at every turn. True, I've been forced to endure the occasional, shall we say, Ôsetback;; but eventually..." He now stepped forward and leaned dangerously close to the cell door; placing a breathy, conspiratorial emphasis on his next four words, "I have ALWAYS prevailed!"
Much as Geoffrey was tempted to run to the cell door, attempt to reach through the bars, grab the Grandmaster (Geoffry doubted that he could EVER come to think of the old boar as "Chancellor"!) by his frilly neckerchief and make a stab at wringing his multi-chinned neck; he decided that the poor odds of success made restraint on his part the better part of valor, at least for the time being. Instead, he sauntered back to the desk and sat down; his back to the small, hostile audience; and said, darkly, "Well see, Pig, well just see."
Seething in anger, the boar brought the steel tip of his cane down hard onto the stone floor; the sound of the impact ringing and echoing down the hall. "Don't turn your back on me, BOY!" He shouted indignantly. "I hold your very LIFE in my hooves! On my word alone, His Majesty would; without the slightest hesitation; send your entire family to the gallows! The executions would, of course," He added sardonically, "Be conducted in secret. No use getting the peasants excited, is there?"
Geoffrey turned in his chair to face the Grandmaster/Chancellor; a hard, sarcastic grimness in his eyes. "Your threats have no credibility, Pig! Theres no way you'd be able to keep my brothers execution a secret from his comrades, and I dont think that even Jenner is stupid enough to risk a mutiny by killing one of his most loyal and respected Guards no matter WHAT you tried to pin on him! And I KNOW that you don't have Gillian because if you did, you'd have come bragging about it LONG before now! And even if you DO manage to kill me and Dad, SO WHAT? Someday, when the animals of Britain decide that they're sick an tired of all the crap that you an Jenner are dishin' on Ôem, you;ll both end up dangling from ropes too! The only difference is that it'll take a few more of those excited peasants to lift you off the ground than it will soldiers to walk me to the platform." He sneered.
By now the old boar was literally quivering with rage; but quite suddenly, the Grandmaster/Chancellor stopped shaking as a malicious smile brightened his face. "Tell me, boy, why is your father bedridden?" The boar asked.
Geoffrey frowned and raised an eyebrow, curious as to the reason for the abrupt change of subject. "I...I don't know." He answered hesitantly, but decided that it wasnt something that the Grandmaster/Chancellor couldn't find out about eventually. "The doctors couldn't give us a diagnosis. He believes, and I've come to agree, that Jenner somehow poisoned him in order to weaken our influence with the other Guilds."
"Actually, you're only half right." The Grandmaster/Chancellor chortled knowingly.
"What're you talking about?" Geoffrey demanded, his attention so focused on the boar that he didnt notice the pathetic, shivering, blanket-wrapped figure standing, though barely able to do so, in the doorway of the alcove.
Now the boar seemed to be positively glowing with an almost childish delight. "Oh, come now; my boy! You and I both know that my young acolyte can be patient when necessary, but he's rarely; if ever; subtle! After all, look at the means by which he disposed of his beloved brother! Ingenious? Certainly! Effective? Unquestionably! But hardly what one could call refined!" Now a satisfied smirk began to twist his snout as the wolf's jaw dropped in horror and realization. "But the use of poisons is an Art unto itself, one that takes years; even decades, to master..."
Geoffrey had crashed into the door in a split second; his paws straining, reaching through the bars; grabbing in utter futility for even the slightest hold on the boars overelegant clothing. "YOU HEARTLESS, SLIMY BASTARD!" He screamed through bared fangs, his instinctive hate for this Monster driving away all rational thought. "I'll kill you! Do you hear me? I'LL KILL YOU!" The two guards had lowered their weapons and were poised to strike, but the Grandmaster/Chancellor angrily waved them off.
It was now the boar's turn to sneer. "I very much doubt it." He hissed. And with one swift movement he slammed the tip of his cane down hard and square on top of Geoffreys muzzle. The blow stunned the wolf and sent him reeling back to lie face-up on the floor, the blood first spurting from his nostrils and covering his face and the front of his shirt and jerkin, then becoming a slow, steady flow. As quickly as he could, Gilbert slid down the wall that he'd been leaning on for support to all fours and crawled painfully to the aid of his son. The elder wolf carefully bent himself into a cross-legged sitting position and, as tenderly as was possible, maneuvered his youngest son's bruised head onto his lap; turning it to one side so that he would not choke on his own blood; and with the corner of one of his blankets began delicately wiping away what was still flowing.
"Oh how nice," The boar observed caustically. "Now Daddy comes to the rescue."
"At least my boy actually has someone who will take care of him." Gilbert countered wearily. "Can you say the same? Would Jenner help you in a similar situation?" The wolf shook his head sadly in answer to his own question. "I doubt it." He stated quietly, too exhausted to summon anything more than pity for his adversary.
"Oh please!" The Grandmaster/Chancellor scoffed, "Spare me your mawkish sentimentality! You're just as corrupt and manipulative as I am! It's the nature of our business, pure and simple!"
"Except that I didnt conspire to help murder my King and his Chancellor, nor do I condemn my business adversaries to a slow death by poisoning. And as to certain admitted lapses in ethics where the Guild is concerned, at least I tried to do everything within my power to insulate my children from those affairs until such time as I felt that they were mature enough to deal with the moral cesspool that I'd inherited." The wolf pointed out, his voice heavy with sad irony.
"Thats because you are WEAK!" The boar spat contemptuously, once again loudly smiting the floor with his cane. "Unlike me, you have not yet learned that life and business are inseparable and that there is no room in either for feelings like love or affection!" He said, emphasizing the last three words with a mocking disdain. "No, you misguided fool, they are about two things only: POWER AND CONTROL!" Again the harsh sound of steel on rock reverberated through the air. "His Majesty is the King of Britain because he is strong and rules with absolute power and unyielding control! Nicodemus is dead because he was weak and would have squandered his power and let others take control! And for whatever reason, you stupidly chose to ally yourself with that imbecile; whereas I clearly saw the potential in His Majesty's insatiable greed, his unwavering lust for absolute power and the utter ruthlessness with which he would indulge that lust, even to the point of murdering his adoptive brother, and carefully cultivated them to our mutual benefit! With me at his side, Britain has a King worthy of the title!" He declared proudly.
"Oh shut up, Pig. Youre givin' me a damn headache." Geoffreys weak, labored voice demanded. The younger wolf's eyes then fluttered open and, when he realized that the face staring down at him was that of his father smiling with relief, he returned it with a rather more feeble one of his own.
The old boar again began shaking in impotent rage, knowing that mere words would have no effect against the familial unity of father and son. "So be it!" He snorted derisively. "I strongly suggest that you two enjoy what little time you still have together because I'm going to swear out a complaint of Treason to the Crown against you and, by hook or by crook, I'll see you both hang in the City Square!" He then turned and imperiously strutted back down the hall, his guards following close behind.
"Well son, I think that could've gone better." Gilbert wryly observed when he was sure that the Grandmaster/Chancellor was out of earshot.
Geoffrey took one of his fathers paws into his own and gave it a gentle squeeze. "That sick piece of scum can hang me if he wants to; but he'll never defeat me as long as I know I have you on my side, Dad." He said, trying to choke back the growing turmoil inside of him.
"You know I am, son." The elder wolf replied, as a tear slid out of the corner of his eye and dripped onto the collar
of Geoffreys blood-soaked shirt. "And at least we have the benefit of knowing who really poisoned me; not, of course, that it does us much good at present." He added.
Don't...Don't worry, Dad," The younger wolf said as he pulled himself up woozily and crawled to seat himself; back to the wall, his eyes involuntarily blinking to counter some residual nausea. "Justice will eventually catch up with him. And if I have to, I'll rise from my grave and visit it upon him myself! That's a promise." He swore.
Gilbert crawled to the wall as well, joining his son. "I dunno, son. At the moment neither of us is in much shape to be wreaking vengeance on the wicked." He sighed wearily. "Frankly, I'll be damn surprised if I can even muster enough strength to crawl back to bed." Geoffrey cracked a wan, bitter smile. "You don't hear me bitchin' an moanin', do you?" He asked. He then slipped a paw under one of his fathers arms and, using the wall behind them for leverage, struggled to lift them both to their feet. It took every ounce of effort on both their parts; but they eventually made it into the alcove, where they collapsed onto their ersatz bed and almost immediately fell into an exhausted, nightmare-ridden sleep.
Tags: Crossover • Fan Fiction • Movie-Based • Rated-PG • Unfinished
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Intel and Mobileye, the race for a driverless future
Intel drops $15B on Mobileye in race for a driverless future
Intel said Monday that it will spend more than $14 billion to acquire Israel's Mobileye, a company that develops technology that essentially gives computers a sense of their physical surroundings. It's the latest push by a major tech company into autonomous vehicles.
Here's a quick rundown of who's working with whom:
NISSAN/NASA
Under a five-year partnership, researchers from Nissan and NASA are working on autonomous driving systems and human-machine interface projects with software that can be used on both cars and planetary rovers. Nissan hopes to have self-driving cars on the road by 2020.
INTEL/MOBILEYE
Intel snaps up Mobileye for more than $14 billion, gaining access to its expertise in computer vision and machine learning, data analysis, localization and mapping for advanced driver assistance systems and autonomous driving.
UBER/VOLVO/TOYOTA/OTTO
Ride-hailing company Uber Technologies and Volvo Cars signed a $300 million deal for Volvo to provide SUVs to Uber for autonomous vehicle research. The Volvo SUVs will be part of Uber's self-driving fleet of taxis in Pittsburgh. Both companies will continue to develop autonomous vehicles separately. Uber also is buying Otto, a startup that has developed software that lets big rigs drive autonomously. Earlier this year, Toyota Motor Corp. bought a small stake in Uber for an undisclosed amount.
LYFT/GENERAL MOTORS/CRUISE AUTOMATION
General Motors Co. invested $500 million in Uber rival Lyft Inc. earlier this year. The companies are developing a fleet of autonomous electric taxis that could be deployed through Lyft within the next year. GM also acquired Cruise Automation, a startup that makes autonomous vehicle software, for $581 million.
LYFT/DIDI CHUXING/UBER/APPLE
Chinese ride-hailing company Didi Chuxing invested $100 million in Lyft last fall. The partnership allows U.S. customers use the Lyft app to hail Didi rides while in China and vice versa. Uber recently complicated that deal by selling its China business to Didi in exchange for an 18-percent stake in the Chinese company. And there's another wrinkle: Apple Inc., which is believed to be working on its own autonomous cars, invested $1 billion in Didi in May.
GOOGLE/FIAT CHRYSLER
Alphabet Inc.'s Google, which has been working on self-driving cars since 2009, is working with Fiat Chrysler Automobiles to build 100 self-driving Chrysler Pacifica minivans. The vans will let Google double the size of its autonomous test fleet.
VOLKSWAGEN/GETT
Volkswagen AG invested $300 million in Uber competitor Gett Inc. in May. Gett said it would provide Volkswagen with the technology to expand beyond car ownership and into ride- and car-sharing.
BMW/INTEL/MOBILEYE
BMW AG, Intel Corp. and Israel's Mobileye NV are teaming up to build and commercialize driverless cars. The companies say they could have autonomous vehicles in production by 2021. BMW's iNext electric sedan will serve as the platform for the technology. Intel makes the computer processors necessary to operate self-driving cars, while Mobileye makes advanced camera systems. The vehicles would likely be used by ride-sharing fleets.
FORD/VELODYNE/BAIDU
Ford Motor Co. is aiming to have fully self-driving cars — with no steering wheels or pedals — in ride-sharing fleets by 2021. Ford and Chinese search engine company Baidu Inc. — which has also invested in Uber — are investing $150 million in Velodyne, which makes the laser sensors that help guide self-driving cars. Ford also acquired Israel-based SAIPS for its expertise in artificial intelligence and computer vision, and invested in Berkeley, California-based Civil Maps.
AUDI/MERCEDES/BMW/HERE
Last fall, Nokia Corp. sold its digital mapping business, Here, to a consortium of German automakers for $3 billion. Audi, BMW and Mercedes say precise maps are a key to developing autonomous cars as well as advanced driver assistance features.
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Home / Posts tagged "birth mother"
The Journey to Becoming a Parent Through Adoption!
Adoption, Family - adopt, adopted, adoption, adoptive family, adoptive parents, birth father, birth mother, birth parents, birthfather, birthmother, child, children, choices, families, family, infertility, open adoption, parenting - June 4, 2015
As a child, I dreamed of becoming many things: a doctor, a ballerina, and a marine biologist, but, more than anything else in the world, I wanted to be a mom someday. However, as a teen, I realized that due to being born with heart defects, my dream of becoming a mom, at least biologically, may not be possible. At the time, I did not know anyone who was adopted, but, starting in college, I began to hear more and more about adoption and met both children and adults who were adopted. When I got married just after graduating, two family members and my best friend offered to be surrogates for my husband and me when we were ready to start a family, but by that time I knew that someday I was meant to become a mom through adoption!
My husband and I adopted our first child, Bella, seven and-a-half years ago through A Child’s Hope. Though the whole process took less than 6 months, it was not without its ups and downs. Just before we matched with Bella’s birth mother, we were matched with another birth mother whom we met but who ultimately chose to parent. It was hard to get past the pain of this revocation, but about a month later we became parents to our beautiful Bella, who does not look like us due to her Honduran heritage, but whose personality is a perfect combination of my husband’s and my own.
Two and-a-half years later, we adopted our son, Carter, again through A Child’s Hope. This time we knew we wanted a Hispanic child so that Bella could have a sibling that shared her wonderful heritage that we had learned so much about during the first few years of her life. Carter was born about 6 weeks early, less than a week after we matched with his birth mother. He had some health issues the few first years of his life but is now an always on the go, a super-ready for Kindergarten 5-year-old.
While Bella and Carter truly made my dream of becoming a mother come true, being one of four children, I felt that I had room for more children in my heart and we had more room in our house. Bella, while having a great bond with her brother, wished all the time for “a baby sister named Maia.” So when Carter turned 3, we decided to start the adoption process again, this time specifically with the goal of adopting a little girl. We decided to sign with an adoption referral service this time to find a birth mother in a different state with a shorter revocation period than NC and ended up matching with a birth mother in NV. Like her brother, Carter, Maia Jane could not wait to join our family and ended up being born at Thanksgiving instead of around Christmas when her birth mother was scheduled to have a C-section. We ended up spending about 2 weeks in NV with my mom, Bella, and Carter, the first week of which Maia was in the NICU. Since we had gotten to know everyone at A Child’s Hope so well, we had Bobby Mills finalize our adoption of Maia in NC.
Not a day goes by that I do not look at my kids and think how lucky I am to be their mother but also how it all really seems meant to be! There is no doubt that adoption is a roller coaster, and I am not a big fan of roller coasters, but, as I have been told about childbirth, once your child is in your arms, the joy you experience erases from your mind any pain you experienced.
Thank you to Lyla and her family for sharing their story with us!
Adopting and Raising a Child with Special Needs Can Be a Blessing
Adoption, Family - adopt, adopted, adopting, adoption, adoptive parents, birth father, birth mother, birth parents, birthfather, birthmother, child, children, choices, families, family, open adoption, parenting, special needs - December 27, 2013
Adopting and raising a child with special needs is not for everyone….
There are many adoptive parents who have taken on the loving and demanding job of adopting and raising a child with special needs. These parents in my mind are as special as the children they adopt.
What I hear frequently from adoptive parents who are offered the opportunity to adopt a child born with special needs is that if they had given birth to the child they wouldn’t hesitate. They think of the child as their own almost from the start and they become fierce advocates. For many its a lifetime commitment.
One of my favorite memories as an adoption agency director is seeing a three year old named Matthew laughing at a local mall as he tried to run away from his parents, Jack and Peggy. His parents smiled broadly, they were so proud. He was a beautiful toddler , with black curls and a smile that was big and open. And he didn’t walk, he ran…
“And this is the child that we were told might never walk, “ Peggy said “And look at him now. We have to run to keep up.“ The family added another son by adoption, Michael, # of years later. The brothers are best friends!
Michael was born with a life threatening physical condition called esophageal fistula. He was airlifted shortly after birth to a major medical center. Jack and Peggy were with him while he had 7 operations, first to connect his esophagus to his stomach and then later to remove a finger that didn’t function and construct a thumb from his index finger. He still has challenges swallowing and has had four procedures in the last two years.
Jack and Peggy’s time and heart commitment has been enormous . Michael is now thirteen years old and doing well. “You have to take on what you feel you can handle,” Peggy said recently. “We feel blessed. “
Thank you to Director Parker Herring and parents Jack and Peggy for allowing us to share their story.
When a Long Adoption Wait Ends with Just a Few Days Notice!
Adoption, Family - adopt, adopted, adoption, adoptive parents, birth father, birth mother, birth parents, birthfather, birthmother, child, children, choices, families, family, open adoption, parenting - December 20, 2013
Bill and Priscila have been waiting for over three years to adopt a brother or sister for their son Thomas, who was placed with them five and a half years ago in the Agency’s offices. Yesterday was the the end to their long adoption journey…
Bill and Priscila were notified by the Agency on Tuesday and offered the opportunity to adopt a nine pound baby boy who was a last minute placement. They got it together in two days time and came with smiles and a car seat!
Sometimes birth mothers make last minute decisions at the hospital to place their baby for adoption, and when they do, there is a lot of hard work done by many people to make the last minute placement work. Social workers, attorneys and staff scramble to make birth mom’s situation and the baby’s transition go as smoothly as possible.
Today, this nine pound baby named Lucas was dressed for Christmas and handed over to the adoptive parents by his respite care provider. It was worth the wait his parents said. Big brother Thomas leaned down to his brother in the car seat before they left the agency and when asked what he thought about his new baby brother, Thomas grinned and said “So far he’s been pretty good .”
A Big thank you to Bill, Priscila, Thomas and Lucas for allowing us to tell the story of their adoption journey!
Do you have a story you’d like to tell? Email us at blog.ach@foryourlife.com. Visit us at www.AChildsHope.com, or call if you are a birth mother, please call our Birth Mother Hotline at 1-877-890-HOPE (4976) so one of our adoption counselors can answer your questions confidentially.
Placement Day – The Best Gift of All!!
Hunter and Laura got the best Christmas gift that anyone could ask for at Christmas – a newborn boy placed lovingly in their arms by their birth mother!! The adoptive parents and the birthmother had agreed on a name – Hezekiah – to be called “Kiah” for short.
This was not the first time that the intended parents had seen the baby – they held their heart in their hands last Sunday when they visited him in the hospital. We took photographs then and marveled at how beautiful he was. During the seven day waiting period that North Carolina law requires, the birthmother was very emotional as one could expect and was counseled.
It was a difficult week for her, but she stayed firm in her decision to place the baby for adoption. On placement day, she lovingly held the baby again for an hour in the agency’s offices while the adoptive parents executed legal documents.
She kissed him tenderly as she held him and told him how much she loved him. He was very alert and would glace up at her while she was talking to him.
She selflessly and lovingly gave her baby and the adoptive parents the Best Gift of All!
The parts we play in helping our families create forever families through adoption is a rewarding one and we love to share their stories!!
The Best Gift of All…
Adoption, Education - adopt, adopted, adoption, adoptive parents, birth father, birth mother, birth parents, birthfather, birthmother, child, children, choices, families, family, open adoption, parenting - December 16, 2013
A birth mother placing a newborn into the intended adoptive parents arms for the first time is an emotional moment any time of year. But when a newborn is placed for adoption at Christmas, emotions run high.
Last Sunday, I watched as a young woman with an unplanned pregnancy visited in the hospital with the adoptive parents she chose as they met their baby. She wanted them to share in the moment. She had delivered him three days before cuddling the baby on her chest and then watched the emotion as she handed the baby over to the new adoptive mom to be. She said how much she loved him.
All in the hospital room tried to hold their emotions in check. North Carolina law allows birth parents seven (7) days to revoke her consent. Even though the birth mother in this hospital room had signed relinquishments the day before, all were mindful that despite all her best intentions that she could change her mind and the baby they were holding would not be theirs to raise.
Birth mother admitted that she was feeling very emotional, but she knew that she was giving the best gift of all to this couple who had struggled for years with infertility and had been waiting with an adoption agency. She smiled to see how their eyes filled with tears as they held him for the very first time!
Thank you to Director Parker Herring for sharing her experience with us!
FINALLY HOME!
Adoption, Children, Family - adopt, adopted, adoption, adoptive parents, babies with health issues, birth father, birth mother, birth parents, birthfather, birthmother, child, children, choices, families, family, open adoption, parenting, special needs, special needs baby - September 10, 2013
For those of you who have sent best wishes to Baby Boy Hudson, he is finally home from the hospital!
At nine weeks old Hudson has had a long wait in the hospital since birth before he could travel home to be with adoptive parents Marcy and Philip and 9 year old brother, Tyler. Baby Boy Hudson was transferred shortly after birth and has been in two major medical centers since that time. He has endured numerous tests, surgeries and the diagnosis and treatment is still continuing. But on August 27, 2013, Hudson traveled home and neighbors, friends, and family had a celebration in mind. And what a celebration it was!!
Babies born and placed with adoptive parents and those who are born and live with biological parents all have in common the fact that good health should not be taken for granted. God plans for some babies to need special care life long and some to go home shortly after birth and thrive and meet milestones. Hudson is one of those special care babies, and his adoptive family has been with him every step of the way, no day without a visit and many days with tears and coping with the medical procedures.
A Big thank you to Hudson and his family for allowing us to share their story!
We Want to Hear Your Adoption Story!!
Adoption, Family - adopt, adopted, adoption, adoptive parents, birth father, birth mother, birth parents, birthfather, birthmother, child, children, choices, families, family, open adoption, parenting - August 26, 2013
Whether you are a birth mother, an adoptive parent, adoptive parent or adoption professional, we want to hear your story!
Beginning September 3, 2013 A Child’s Hope will launch our Facebook Contest “A Note from the Heart”.
To enter join us on September 3, upload your photograph and a “Note From the Heart” about your adoption experience (Entry must be 500 words or less)
Contest Rules and Details –
For Birth mothers and Families Adoptees
Adoptive Parents and Families
Adoption Professionals
Users will submit their photo and story into one of the four categories beginning on September 3, at 12:00AM EST (Eastern Time). Each person is allowed one submission, but multiple submissions about specific adoption stories are allowed (e.g. a birth mother and her adoption counselor can both submit an entry about their experience working together and building a lifetime bond). All submissions that include a link to a Pinterest board with more photos of their story will automatically earn 10 bonus votes!
**View Official Rules and Privacy Policy.
The adoption story that receives the most votes in each category will win a $150 gift card! Be sure to encourage people you know to enter the contest and share their story, and tell your friends and family to visit the page and vote for your story!
**Winners will be notified via e-mail and announced on Facebook following the conclusion of the contest.
Your vote for your favorite adoption story will help decide our winner. Judges from an expert panel of contest sponsors will select finalists from each of the categories. Facebook fans will have an opportunity during the public voting period from September 3 at 12:00AM EST to September 30 11:59PM EST to choose their favorite adoption story from the selected finalists.
“A Note From The Heart” Contest is sponsored by Noah Z.M. Goetz Foundation, Our Chosen Child, My Adoption Advisor and A Child’s Hope.
Completing Their Forever Family Through Adoption Networking!
Adoption, Family - adopt, adopted, adoption, adoption networking, adoption profiles, adoption website, adoptive parent networking, adoptive parent profiles, adoptive parent websites, adoptive parents, birth father, birth mother, birth parent, birth parents, birthfather, birthmother, birthparent, birthparents, child, children, choices, communicating with birth parents, families, family, insurance, internet, Medicaid, medical care, networking, open adoption, parenting, prenatal care, unborn child - April 4, 2013
Josh and Kelly took placement of their beautiful baby girl Ansley in late January this year. The also took the networking challenge as waiting adoptive parents. They signed up and participated in the online courses through My Adoption Advisor, created a profile, website, Facebook page, and YouTube video! Not to mention getting the word out to family and friends that they were looking to adopt!
Through a friend of a friend who knew they were looking to adopt, they connected with their birth mother. Once they established contact with their birth mom, they found it was extremely helpful that they were able to refer her to their website, where she was able to learn more about them and their family.
Since their placement, they have learned that waiting parents are indeed putting themselves out there and networking in an effort to shorten their wait time and best of all… it really works!!! “Networking brought us to our birth parents who gave us the gift of completing our forever family!”, said Kelly.
A big thanks to Josh, Kelly and their family for allowing us to tell the story of their adoption journey.
John & Laura’s Networking Adoption Journey
Adoption, Family - adopt, adopted, adoption, adoptive parents, birth father, birth mother, birth parent, birth parents, birthfather, birthmother, birthparent, birthparents, child, children, choices, families, family, insurance, Medicaid, medical care, open adoption, parenting, prenatal care, unborn child - March 27, 2013
John and Laura took home their newborn daughter Anna Claire from California in March. They call how they found her a miracle, but it’s really an example of how getting the word out to friends and family that you want to adopt can lead you to an adoption situation.
“We took the courses through My Adoption Advisor, had a new profile and webpage created which was posted to Facebook and we also let friends know we were looking to adopt,” said John. “A coworker who knew we were looking to adopt located a distant relative on Facebook who had recently adopted via an agency. In their brief conversation, she shared that she had friends at work who were looking to adopt. That was it; that was the extent of the conversation. The very next day, the agency’s social worker happened to email the adoptive mother and said that she had two birth mother situations, and was looking for potential adoptive families. Our friend’s relative forwarded the email to her who sent it to Laura who called and spoke with the social worker. We shared our profile webpage with the social worker who showed it to the potential birth mother. Within 24 hours we were matched!”
John and Laura had been waiting since January of 2010 with A Child’s Hope. They had previously worked with another agency for four years prior to signing with A Child’s Hope. “We had already waited for so long for a child, when the opportunity came along to create a new profile and to increase our advertising on a national level, we knew we had to put ourselves out there and give it a try. So we did everything we could – Facebook, advertising, networking, etc. to get the word out – and it worked. Our daughter is everything we had prayed for”, said Laura.
John and Laura will be attending the April 17th Hopeful Parents Support Group to talk about their adoption journey. They have also invited waiting parents to contact them at JohnandLauraadopt@gmail.com if they have any questions.
A big thanks to John, Laura and Anna for allowing us to tell the story of their adoptive family.
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AC Keeble
The Autistic Conservative – The Grand Geek of Essex – Commonwealth Rep for Archery
July 27, 2016 Charlie Keeble
A New Hope for Sport and Invention
Four years ago the Olympics came to my home town of London for the 2012 Games. It was a great time of optimism for Great Britain that time. We had the Queen celebrating her Diamond Jubilee and we thrived like a strong powerful patriotic island nation. Everyone across the world looked to us as a land of hope and glory with opportunism for all walks of life. I could never have been so proud a Briton watching this magnificent spectacle.
The mission of the London 2012 Games was to ‘inspire a generation’ and as Lord Sebastian Coe put it the Games would inspire many people to take up sport and invest in developing talent and infrastructure. The East End of London was transformed from a derelict wasteland into a thriving community of sport with the Olympic Park now the Queen Elizabeth Park with all kinds of sporting activities going on a daily basis. There are rowers in the river, cyclists going along the paths, runners jogging along the paths and sports lessons taking place in the arenas used in the games like the velodrome and the aquatics centre. As for the human legacy of the games they have increased participation in sports unlike anything this country has ever seen. It’s great to see that enthusiasm flourish across the country as well. Here is my story on how London 2012 inspired me to not only take up a sport but advanced it.
Of all the sports in the games there is one that I was particulary curious about. That was archery and I had been interested in it but never taken the time to explore it. My interest in archery began as a fanboy of classic adventure and fantasy shows on TV and film like Robin Hood, Lord of the Rings, Star Wars and reruns of classic cartoons on Sky TV. Looking back at my time enjoying them I often wondered if I had been aware of archery’s presence as a proper sport then maybe I would have taken it up a lot sooner before London 2012. I didn’t have long to wait as archery was the first sport of the games to be played and I was glued to the TV as I watched these archers come out for the first time and I saw their amazing bows. They looked nothing like what I was expecting with their long rods and technical sights and other inventory. It was even more surprising to see what kind of quivers they wore. Up until then I had never heard of a side quiver or even bows and arrows made from metal and synthetic materials. It was a real eye opener to see what modern target archery was all about.
After the games I went onto find an archery club and take some lessons in how to use a bow and arrow. I also took the time to geek myself about archery by reading about it and exploring the types of archery there was. It was a great passion that expanded the fandom that I endorsed. It was like exploring a new territory of my being that had never been endorsed. The effect of London 2012 would stay with me for a very long time. Now I have become such a big archery geek that I was determined to make my own mark with my own bow. Of course I did have aspirations to become an Olympian myself but along the way my ambitions got sidetracked because I had discovered opportunities. When I got into archery I came across a sport that was very inclusive to all types of people from all walks of life. I have shared targets with able bodied people, disabled people, youngsters, other ethnic groups and people older than myself. This was a great community of sportspeople to be a part of but it didn’t look like it to outsiders.
Archery is a minority sport like lawn bowls, squash, ten pin bowling, judo, sailing, rowing and diving. The problem with these sports as I discovered was that although they are inclusive they appear as exclusive and isolated from mainstream culture. Major sports like football, boxing, rugby and cricket are able to make vast swathes of money, sponsorship and ticket sales because they are run by astute business people who know creative ways to sell them, which allows them to make a big presence in popular culture. This led me to believe that the reason why I never got access to target archery when I was young was because the people who run the clubs and the sporting organisation were not able to sell themselves effectively. Most of their management are run by people with backgrounds in charities and local community work and were funded largely by subsidies from government backed sports charities like UK Sport. I was told by my fellow archers at my club that there is no money in archery or any minority sport for that matter.
I however believed that they could be better and I wanted wanted to achieve something better than what the current Olympic archers had got out of archery other than medals and playing at big sporting events. This is where I saw an opportunity for my own goals. Instead of trying to go for my own gold medals at this stage go for a golden opportunity to make archery better. What I can do to bring to archery that makes me better than a professional archer or the archery industry itself. Well I’m a political activist and as a Conservative with friends in politics I can bring archery to the attention of popular culture. When I was a volunteer at the Commonweath Games in Glasgow 2014 I saw an opportunity to improve archery as I talked about it at the games and I found some way to improve it there. I set up a campaign to make archery a core sport at the Commonwealth Games to promote it’s current status as an optional sport. I put up a petition to raise awareness and call for the President of the Commonwealth Games to make it happen.
A few months later I promoted the petition in the archery media and thanks to them the petition was widely known and I became an invisible celebrity amongst the archery community. Afterward I seized another opportunity to gain sponsorship for new equipment for my archery gear. I became a blogger for Legend Archery and with that I was able to reach out to the archery world as a popular sport writer and adventurer. I wrote so many posts over the last twelve months that I probably learned more about archery than my friends did that I was able to write references and articles for people that were not available elsewhere like the archery equivalent of King Arthur’s Excalibur, the types of clothing and fashion of modern target archery, the science of how bows and arrows work and my favourite archery gadget: quivers. It became such a good opportunity that I developed business connections with people within the archery community itself.
The connections that I have established in my role as a blogger and campaigner has led me to consider my employment prospects and providing me with a future to play at the Commonwealth Games for Team England. To that end I have decided to combine my love of archery and my love of science and invention to create my own archery equipment business. Now with the Rio 2016 Olympics on the horizon I feel like I can lead an example to the archery community and the legacy of the two great sporting events of the Olympics and the Commonwealth Games to show the world how minority sports can be better. The Olympic legacy has certainly inspired me in a way I never expected it to. My life is full of so many surprises it can certainly make an interesting read that Sebastian Coe would be proud of. Now I must go and advance my business and get to work on improving archery.
Lord Coe
Published by Charlie Keeble
An Alternating Creative Intellectual Rebel. I have many different interests that I go from time to time. There are many adventures that I have had in my life and I am bringing to you here at my blog. I am known by many different identities that I use in each of my interests that are here for you to see. The Autistic Conservative advocating for the right of self-determination for neurodiversity and autism as a Conservative. The Grand Geek of Essex with a broad interest in earth and environmental science, baking, travelling, trains, astronomy, Doctor Who and of course British culture. And of course there is the Commonwealth Ambassador for Archery, for which I am a keen bowman shooting for the promotion of archery and the Commonwealth Games. I have self published a book available from Amazon and I have my own merchandise on Zazzle. I live in Romford and work for Africa House London building bridges between Britain and African countries for commerce and direct trade investment. View all posts by Charlie Keeble
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Michael Reynolds says:
As an active coach, I totally appreciate your proactive support for my favorite sport! Archery needs more inspiration!!
Essex Geek says:
Thank You I am glad to see that my efforts are appreciated. I have made some progress in my campaign for core Commonwealth Archery and it will take more effort from my supporters than just writing their name on a petition. You need to get out there and tell the world what you value must be taken into consideration by the authority. However most of them struggle and I reckon that lies in their ability to market their sports to the mainstream. I have had several people take an interest in archery but the sports people themselves are not marketing their own sport effectively. Some of them think it’s got all the value of a hobby than a full time investment of their time.
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Categories Select Category 3D Printing (4) Archery (14) Arts and Media (4) autism (32) Autistic Conservative (26) British Politics (22) business (7) Conservatism (19) England (2) EU Referendum (3) Fantasy and Sci-Fi (5) Grand Geek of Essex (21) Great Britain (12) mental health (19) Politics (22) Science and Nature (19) Science and Technology (12) Science Museum (7) sports (9) Technology (4) Travel and Adventure (3) TV and Films (3) Uncategorized (117) university (14) Westminster (5)
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2008-09Regular SeasonRound 4
Zadar 82
Chorale Roanne 70
Local time: 19:00 SPORT CENTAR VISNJIC "KRESIMIR COSIC"
Zadar took over first place in Group A with two weeks left in the regular season as it defeated visiting Chorale Roanne 82-70 on Tuesday at home in Croatia. Zadar is now 3-1, a victory ahead of two teams tied for second place, while Roanne dropped to last place at 1-3. Zadar didn't put the lid on a tight game until the fourth quarter, when it grabbed its first double-digit leads since the first half. A big advantage on the boards and more than double Roanne's assists proved key factors for the winners, who got a huge 18-point, 14-rebound double-double off the bench from Deyan Ivanov. He and Todor Gecevski, who had 15 points, 5 rebounds and 4 assists, helped Zadar outrebound Roanne 32-22. Damir Rancic added 16 points, Juby Johnson 13 and Rok Stipcevicc 10 plus 5 assists for the winners.Chris Monroe paced Roanne with 23 points. Mohamed Kone added 14 and 9 rebounds, while Curtis Sumpter scored 12 and Pierric Poupet 10 for the visitors.
After Marc-Antoine Pellin opened the scoring for the visitors, Johnson's three-pointer and Jere Macura layup had Zadar up 5-2. Stipcevic upped the difference to 10-6 with a triple before Kone got Roanne within 12-11 with 5 consecutive points. Zadar's defense tightened then, however, as Ivanov, Marlon Garnett and Johnson boosted the lead to 20-13 after 10 minutes. Zadar flirted with double-digit leads early in the second quarter, but points by Ivanov, Rancic and Stipcevic were off-set by those of Kone, Karim Souchu and Monroe. Hrvoje Peric finally broke the double-digit barrier with a layup at 30-19, but Poupet's 4 points in a row woke Roanne. When Kone and Sumpter resumed scoring, the visitors were within 32-27. Stipcevic stopped the Zadar slide with a big shot from downtown, but Kone answered fro Roanne and Sumpter got it within 35-32 before Rancic ended the half from long range, good for a 38-32 advantage for the hosts.
Johnson opened the second half as he did the first, from downtown, but Sumpter's just-as-deep answer showed Roanne was going to hang tough, as Monroe's free throws meant a 41-38 scoreboard. Ivanov, Stipcevic and Gecevski kept the hosts a step ahead even as Monroe's next burst of 5 consecutive points cut the difference to 54-51. Again, a Zadar triple, by Gecevski, was answered in kind by Poupet of Roanne before Johnson's free throws let the hosts hold a 59-54 advantage after 30 minutes. Yet another triple trade, Rancic and Poupet, opened the final quearter. Ivanov took over now with twin layups that set up the next long-range bomb by Rancic for a 69-60 Zadar lead. Roanne waited a couple minutes before its response this time, but Monroe's next shot from the arc made it a six-point game, 71-65, with 6 minutes left. Ivanovic and Rancic worked inside to push the difference to double digits finally, 77-67, with 3 minutes left, not enough time for Roanne to rally out of last place.
Eurocupbasketball.com
Referees: BELOSEVIC, ILIJA; SINTERNIKLASS, ANTHONIE; JURAS, JASMINA
Zadar 20 18 21 23
Chorale Roanne 13 19 22 16
4 RANCIC, DAMIR 21:29 16 2/2 4/10 1 1 3 1 3 10
5 PERIC, HRVOJE 17:12 4 2/3 0/1 2 2 4 1 1 3 1 4
6 STIPCEVIC, ROK 37:06 10 2/2 2/5 2 2 5 1 1 3 1 12
8 JOHNSON, JUBY 22:48 13 1/2 2/4 5/7 1 2 3 2 2 4 11
10 PROSTRAN, TONI 2:50 1 1 1 1
11 GECEVSKI, TODOR 32:10 15 6/8 1/2 1 4 5 4 2 1 22
13 RUZIC, TOMISLAV 7:54 0/2 0/1 1 1 1 -2
14 POPOVIC, DANIEL DNP - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
15 MACURA, JERE 8:14 2 1/4 2 1 3 1 1 1 1
24 GARNETT, MARLON 19:36 4 1/1 0/4 2/2 2 2 1 3 2
44 IVANOV, DEJAN 30:41 18 7/10 0/1 4/4 6 8 14 2 1 4 1 4 32
Team 1 1
Totals 200:00 82 22/34 9/28 11/13 12 20 32 16 9 12 2 0 16 14 94
Head coach: PETROVIC, ALEKSANDAR
Chorale Roanne
4 MONROE, CHRIS 34:34 23 3/4 3/5 8/8 1 1 2 2 5 22
7 SOUCHU, KARIM 14:58 4 2/2 0/1 1 4
12 SUMPTER, CURTIS 26:42 12 4/5 1/4 1/2 1 3 4 2 2 1 3 1 12
16 BOUNDY, NAMORY DNP - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
24 NENGSU, BRICE 5:26
33 DIA, SAMBA 14:33 0/3 0/1 1 1 1 2 -6
34 KONE, MOHAMED 38:45 14 3/11 1/4 5/8 3 6 9 1 4 1 4 6 7
42 POUPET, PIERRIC 15:12 10 2/3 2/2 1 1 2 12
45 PELLIN, MARC-ANTOINE 25:02 4 2/3 3 3 2 3 1 2 2 10
51 HARPER, AARON 24:48 3 0/3 1/4 1 2 3 2 1 2 1 1 -1
Totals 200:00 70 16/34 8/21 14/18 6 16 22 7 7 11 0 2 14 16 60
Head coach: CHOULET, JEAN-DENYS
PETROVIC, ALEKSANDAR
"It is difficult to beat same team two times in one week. They have injured players but we also play without our important player Malik Dixon, and for most of the time we didn't have a complete team. When we won in France everyone said Roanne is not a good team but I repeat today, it is very hard to win two games against one team in one week. We are still one game short of qualifying to the Last 16. We hope that Malik will recover in January so we will have a complete team. I congratulate Roanne, they played better than the last time. I'm satisfied because we are leaders in our group and we are just one step away from going into next round."
CHOULET, JEAN-DENYS
"Tonight we played a better game than last time against Zadar. We are very frustrated due to the fact we played without four starters who are injured. We were forced to play with our backup players, who usually play 2 to 10 minutes per game, to play all game. Once again we are very frustrated because we didn't have all our players, so we couldn't play our best game. The only time we played with our best players was the game in start of the Eurocup and we won it. But I congratulate Zadar on a deserved win."
RANCIC, DAMIR
"I congratulate Roanne on a well-played game. Our fans certainly expected a lot easier win from us because we won in Roanne with a bigger difference. Today we played a very good game against a good team but we deserved the victory."
MONROE, CHRIS
"This was a hard game for us. Zadar played very well tonight. We could have played a good game but unfortunately we didn't."
2019-20 2018-19 2017-18 2016-17 2015-16 2014-15 2013-14 2012-13 2011-12 2010-11 2009-10 2008-09 2007-08 2006-07 2005-06 2004-05 2003-04 2002-03 2001-02 2000-01
REGULAR SEASON LAST 16 QUARTERFINALS SEMIFINALS FINALS
Round 1 Round 2 Round 3 Round 4 Round 5 Round 6
Maroussi Costa Coffee 82
ASK Riga 77
Dynamo Moscow 77
Unics 87
Barons Riga 84
Lukoil Academic 88
Khimki 91
Besiktas Cola Turka 65
STB Le Havre 76
Benetton Basket 82
Bnei Hasharon 78
Panellinios Athens 76
Turk Telekom 78
Aris Thessaloniki 65
Lietuvos Rytas 83
Azovmash Mariupol 64
Asvel Basket 69
Gran Canaria 81
PGE Turow 76
Crvena Zvezda 86
Brose Baskets 65
Spirou Basket 84
Artland Dragons 79
Pamesa Valencia 89
Fortitudo Bologna 88
FMP Zeleznik 61
Hemofarm Stada 89
Buducnost 85
iurbentia Bilbao 93
CEZ Nymburk 72
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Liste des études sur la spiruline
Depuis les années 80, la Spiruline a fait l’objet de plusieurs dizaines d’études scientifiques, par des chercheurs du monde entier.
Ayehunie S. & al. : Inhibition of HIV-1 replication by an aqueous extract of Spirulina platensis (Arthrospira platensis). J Acquir Immune Defic Syndr Hum Retrovirol. 1998 May 1;18(1):7-12.
Banji D. & al. : Investigation on the role of Spirulina platensis in ameliorating behavioural changes, thyroid dysfunction and oxidative stress in offspring of pregnant rats exposed to fluoride. Food Chem. 2013 Sep 1;140(1-2):321-31. doi: 10.1016/j.foodchem.2013.02.076.
Bhat VB. & al. : C-phycocyanin: a potent peroxyl radical scavenger in vivo and in vitro. Biochem Biophys Res Commun. 2000 Aug 18;275(1):20-5.
Braakhuis AJ. & al. : Impact of Dietary Antioxidants on Sport Performance: A Review. Sports Med. 2015 Jul;45(7):939-55. doi: 10.1007/s40279-015-0323-x.
Chamorro G. & al. : Reproductive and peri- and postnatal evaluation of Spirulina maxima in mice. Journal of Applied Phycology, April 1997, Volume 9, Issue 2, pp 107–112
Gutiérrez-Salmeán G. & al. : Nutritional and toxicological aspects of spirulina (arthrospira). Nutr Hosp. 2015 Jul 1;32(1):34-40. doi: 10.3305/nh.2015.32.1.9001.
Hayakawa Y. & al. : Heparin cofactor II-dependent antithrombin activity of calcium spirulan. Blood Coagul Fibrinolysis. 1996 Jul;7(5):554-60.
Hayashi O. & al. : Class specific influence of dietary Spirulina platensis on antibody production in mice. J Nutr Sci Vitaminol (Tokyo). 1998 Dec;44(6):841-51.
Hayashi O. & al. : Enhancement of antibody production in mice by dietary Spirulina platensis. J Nutr Sci Vitaminol (Tokyo). 1994 Oct;40(5):431-41.
Hirata T. & al. : Antioxidant activities of phycocyanobilin prepared from Spirulina platensis. Journal of Applied Phycology, October 2000, Volume 12, Issue 3–5, pp 435–439
Hwang JH. & al. : Spirulina prevents memory dysfunction, reduces oxidative stress damage and augments antioxidant activity in senescence-accelerated mice. J Nutr Sci Vitaminol (Tokyo). 2011;57(2):186-91.
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Repéré à http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0014827X01010849
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Zeinalian R. & al. : The effects of Spirulina Platensis on anthropometric indices, appetite, lipid profile and serum vascular endothelial growth factor (VEGF) in obese individuals: a randomized double blinded placebo controlled trial. BMC Complementary and Alternative Medicine. 2017;17:225. doi:10.1186/s12906-017-1670-y.
Zheng J. & al. (2013). Phycocyanin and phycocyanobilin from Spirulina platensis protect against diabetic nephropathy by inhibiting oxidative stress. Cardiovascular and Renal Integration,15 Jan 2013.
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About us Speakers Sponsors Partners News Results
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Participant of Transformation of the Gambling Market in Ukraine Round Table at KiAC: Yuriy Husyev, Head of Kherson Regional State Administration
On December 18, a panel discussion titled ‘Transformation of the Gambling Market in Ukraine’ at Kyiv iGaming Affiliate Conference will involve Yuriy Husyev, Head of Kherson Regional State Administration.
Speaker is a candidate of economic sciences and associate professor. Earlier, he was a consultant and adviser at the International Finance Corporation (IFC), the European Bank for Reconstruction and Development (EBRD), and Ukraine’s largest bank – Privat Bank.
Yuriy Husyev worked for various Ukrainian government agencies: he was the head of the advisers group of the Minister of Economy of Ukraine, the director of the department of national projects, the adviser to the Minister of Finance and the Minister of Infrastructure of Ukraine, as well as the Minister of Ecology and Natural Resources. Besides, he served as the Deputy Minister of Defense of Ukraine. The expert has been the Head of Kherson Regional State Administration since July 2019.
Yuriy is also widely known for the active support of gambling business legalization in the country. In particular, he said that the following initiative could provide the Kherson Region with huge opportunities. Moreover, Mr. Husyev offered to launch a pilot legalization project there in order to raise investments and develop the tourism sector.
Together with other professionals, the Head of Kherson Regional State Administration will take part in the KiAC round table dedicated to legalization bills and critical amendments that they require.
Panel discussion details are available here >>>
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AFS Australia
Host an AFSer
18+ Program
AIYEP
AFS Programs
AFS Stories
AFS Story
AFS is a global community of 60 partner organisations that create social impact through student mobility and intercultural experiences. Join our team!
Internships (applications are accepted throughout the year)
AFS is a bold idea with a courageous mission: we provide intercultural learning opportunities to help people develop the knowledge, skills and understanding needed to create a more just and peaceful world. AFS Australia regularly offers two internship opportunities. These are offered part-time during Semesters 1 and 2 of each year and full-time over Winter and Summer vacation periods:
Finance and Accounting Internship: We’re looking for interns who want to harness their passion for finance and/or accounting to effect social change and to hone their skills in the ‘third sector’ (i.e., non-profit / charity sector). To be eligible for this internship you should have strong written and verbal communication skills and be comfortable and confident interacting within a small team. The Finance and Accounting Intern will be mentored by our Finance Manager and will have opportunities to attend an intercultural learning workshop during their internship as well as other AFS events and activities. If you’re a real keen-bean, there’s also an opportunity to work on reports and projects to be presented to our Board of Directors.
Marketing and Communication Internship: To be eligible for this internship you must have strong written communication skills (native or near-native fluency in English is essential) and a keen interest in intercultural learning and global citizenship education. Design skills are not required but would be a plus. The Marketing and Communications Intern will be mentored by the Manager of our Programs Team. You’ll have opportunities to attend an intercultural learning workshop during your internship; to participate in other AFS events and activities; and to access communications resources and training tools (usually via webinar) provided by AFS’ international headquarters in New York.
From time to time, we also offer an Intercultural Learning Internship to qualified applicants.
AFS Australia is a highly diverse workplace – our staff represent diverse cultural, linguistic and professional backgrounds. We celebrate difference and welcome interns who also represent and embody diversity. To intern with us, you must be an effective communicator and willing to learn to be a confident decision-maker and a creative problem-solver. We’re always on the lookout for enthusiastic interns who are driven by a passion for intercultural learning, global citizenship and working with young people. (And if you’re an AFS volunteer or returnee, well… that’s even better!).
These internships are unpaid and are only available to Australian or international students who are currently enrolled in an Australian University degree or TAFE program. In accordance with Australian employment laws, the internship you complete with AFS Australia must form a compulsory part of your degree/program or you must receive academic credit for your internship (we take this seriously – you will be required to provide evidence when you apply for your internship).
For more information, please send us your CV and a cover letter in addition to written evidence that your internship forms part of your university degree or TAFE course.
Please direct any enquiries about this position to Fran Baxter, CEO & Partner Director, AFS Intercultural Programs Australia.
Educate and activate global citizens
AFS prepares and activates future leaders, global citizens and change makers with essential 21st century intercultural skills to engage, lead and collaborate effectively in different cultural settings. Our international exchange, study abroad and volunteer programs are supported by research-based intercultural learning journeys facilitated by trained AFS volunteers and staff.
AFS Exchange and Study Abroad Programs
From High School Study Abroad, Language Learning, Volunteer Abroad, Gap Year Opportunities, Adult Study Abroad, Internships Abroad, Teacher Exchanges and Summer/ Short-term Study Abroad we are a pioneer on Intercultural Education.
Host Family Programs
Hosting an AFS student is a rewarding and meaningful intercultural learning adventure for the entire family—sharing cultures, traditions and gaining new perspectives.
AFS local volunteers are the driving force of AFS programs and active at all levels—supporting students and families through their AFS intercultural journeys, participating in governance and policy development and leading social impact projects with local schools and communities.
Intercultural Learning and Global Citizenship Education
We help people of all ages and backgrounds develop leadership, problem-solving, language and intercultural skills needed to succeed in a global economy and make a positive difference in the world.
By linking our “learning to live together” philosophy to the defining global issues facing humanity, AFS fosters intercultural understanding as a powerful and productive tool for building a more just and peaceful world. The AFS global community embraces differences and believes our world is stronger and more interesting because of them.
AFS Mission
AFS Intercultural Programs is an international, voluntary, non-governmental, non-profit organization that provides intercultural learning opportunities to help people develop the knowledge, skills and understanding needed to create a more just and peaceful world.
AFS Values
AFS enables people to act as responsible global citizens working for peace and understanding in a diverse world. It acknowledge that peace is a dynamic concept threatened by injustice, inequity, and intolerance.
AFS seeks to affirm faith in the dignity and worth of every human being and of all nations and cultures. It encourages respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms without distinction as to race, sex, language, religion or social status.
AFS activities are based on our core values of dignity, respect for differences, harmony, sensitivity and tolerance.
Living, studying and volunteering across borders and in multicultural communities transforms lives, prepares global citizens and empowers changemakers. That’s what we call “The AFSEffect!” Our global community is:
Transformative: At different stages on amazing intercultural journeys—living, volunteering, working and collaborating with people around the world.
Multigenerational: A global community of students, young adults, volunteers, families, educators, alumni, and staff engaged and energized working together.
Inclusive: A welcoming, supportive network of confident, open-minded AFSers building bridges across cultures.
Everywhere: Making a difference in communities, across industries and at the forefront of important international issues and social causes.
AFS Alumni
Be inspired by outstanding AFS alumni demonstrating the power of the #AFSeffect. AFS has more than 1 million alumni (former participants, volunteers, host families and staff) around the world. If you are interested in reconnecting with AFS or want to find out more about AFS alumni activities.
The AFS global citizenship education agenda
AFS is an inclusive community of global citizens committed to help the world learn to live together.
What is global citizenship education?
Global citizenship education is a transformative, lifelong pursuit that involves both formal learning and practical experience. Global citizenship education helps people of all ages:
Respect cultural, gender, faith and other differences
Become more aware of the world beyond our own
Understand our responsibilities as members of the global human community
Embrace our roles in protecting our planet for a sustainable future
Be mindful about how what we do locally impacts the greater world
Learn more about the #AFSeffect for global citizens
AFS Alliances, Affiliations & Memberships
AFS and UNESCO
As of 2015, AFS is proud to have entered into a “consultative status” partnership with the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO). This status enables both organizations to collaborate on initiatives of mutual interest and social good.
AFS works closely and creatively with schools, universities, humanitarian and peace groups, governments and other NGOs on the issues that reflect our mission.
To speak with an AFS Intercultural Programs Australia Representative, call 1300 131 736. You can find us at Level 4, 418a Elizabeth St, Surry Hills NSW 2010.
© AFS Australia 2020
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Campus celebrates Diwali
Matthew Steinberg, Features Editor|November 29, 2018
Students light candles in Henderson Campus Center to celebrate Diwali on Nov.13, 2018.
Emily Rice
For Secretary of the South Asian Student Society Rithikaa Sree Jamigumpala, ’22, Diwali represents happiness.
Diwali, a five-day festival celebrated by followers of Hinduism, Sikhism and Jainism is known as the festival of lights. Every autumn, millions celebrate light prevailing over darkness with fireworks, decorating candles and putting various lights on display.
“We celebrate the joy of light, taking the darkness out and bringing in the positivity,” Jamigumpala said.
Though SASS, in collaboration with the International Club, International Education Office and Spiritual and Religious Life, could not host a full five-day festival, Jamigumpala said the groups wanted to bring the “effect” of the Diwali celebration to campus. Community members gathered to celebrate through rangoli artwork, decorating diyas and other activities on Nov. 13 from 7 to 9 p.m. in the Henderson Campus Center lobby.
Co-President of SASS, Medha Nag, ’20, said this was the first campus-wide celebration of Diwali since she arrived at Allegheny. In previous years, members of SASS, formerly known as the South Asian Club, would travel to Pittsburgh to celebrate Diwali.
“From what I know, South Asian Club has always done something for Diwali, but it’s always been very closed to the members (of the club) or even specifically the board members,” Nag said.
Nag said during her first two years at Allegheny, the board members of the South Asian Club traveled to Pittsburgh for the Diwali celebration held at Sri Venkateswara Temple.
“But I really wanted to bring it (to Allegheny),” Nag said. “As a club, we weren’t really sharing our culture, and that’s kind of our mission statement, is to share our culture … I think this was the first legitimate Diwali celebration on campus.”
Traditionally, firecrackers are the most essential aspect of the celebration, according to Nag. As the firecrackers are lit, the light casts over darkness, symbolizing the triumph of light over dark, or good over evil, which is the central theme of Diwali.
Since this was the first year SASS held a Diwali celebration, the club did not include firecrackers because of the special permission required, according to Nag. However, because of its importance to the Diwali tradition, Nag said she hopes it will be incorporated into future Diwali celebrations at Allegheny.
This year, one of the activities community members participated in was rangoli artwork. Typically created on the ground with materials such as colored sand or rice, rangolis are decorative and common of Diwali celebrations, according to Nag.
Instead of crafting them on the ground, the celebration sponsors provided small sheets of paper with varying designs. They also supplied colored sand and glue so people could create their personal rangolis on the paper.
Along with rangolis, community members could decorate their own diyas, another essential component to Diwali celebrations. Nag described diyas as small clay pots that people can paint and place candles inside.
Other activities not necessarily associated with Diwali celebrations were also featured at the event. Toward the front of the campus center lobby, community members lined up to receive mehendi, or henna tattoos.
“We realized that mehendi was one thing that people really enjoyed, and Diwali is about enjoyment,” Nag said. “So we decided to have mehendis.”
Nag said Diwali is a family and community-oriented celebration. A polaroid photo booth was also featured near the front of the lobby. This aspect of the celebration was a popular attraction as people posed with friends and props, according to Nag.
Last but not least — the food. Amidst the music and activities at the celebration, guests enjoyed biryani, samosas and dessert catered by Erie’s Darjeeling Kitchen.
“We were not expecting that big of a crowd,” said Co-President of SASS Sweta Rauniyar, ’21. “I was genuinely very happy to see the response. It actually motivated me, like, ‘OK … we can represent our culture.”
Nag also thought the event was a success and said she hopes SASS will do even more next year to continue improving the celebration for community members.
“Next time around, we’re going to try to make it more of a celebration,” Nag said. “Because we have Diwali parties a lot, so hopefully we could book Schultz Banquet Hall or something like that so we could have more music, a little more dancing and stuff like that.”
Matthew Steinberg
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10 Popular Animal Myths You Probably Mistakenly Believe
By All That's Interesting
Animals have always played a huge role in society. Besides the ones we keep as beloved pets, we love to learn about the vast diversity that nature has to offer.
However, there are right and wrong ways to go about this. Watch an Attenborough documentary and learn all kinds of cool things about animals in their natural habitats. Watch cartoons and old movies and get plenty of animal myths and misconceptions that you might still believe to this day.
1. Bees can only sting you once
Another bee myth – many bees are solitary, they don’t live in a large group. Source: Blogspot
For many people, this is the way to tell bees apart from wasps – a bee dies after it stings you while a wasp can do it over and over again. Sorry to say, but this is only true for honey bees, and they make up a very small minority of bee species.
Honey bees die because their stingers have barbs at the ends and get lodged into their target. Then, when the bees fly off, they are basically ripping themselves in half. However, most other species of bees have a smooth stinger that can go in and out of the target with no problems.
2. Lemmings are suicidal
Curse you, Disney!
Source: Deviant Art
Besides the animal, the term “lemming” can be used to refer to a person who follows everybody else without thinking. It is inspired by the (animal) lemmings that supposedly commit mass unintentional suicide by jumping off cliffs in groups. Disney gets all the blame for this myth. The idea of suicidal lemmings comes from a very successful 1958 Disney film called White Wilderness which won an Oscar for Best Documentary.
The film depicts such an event, with dozens of lemmings tumbling towards their doom. The only problem is that the whole thing was completely staged by Disney, who basically chucked the lemmings into the water.
3. Rabbits love carrots
Source: Warren Photographic
While we’re blaming Hollywood, we might as well mention that it also fabricated the rabbit’s love for carrots. Sure, it will eat them, but as any bunny owner could attest, rabbits prefer leafy green vegetables. The image of the rabbit enjoying a carrot was, of course, made iconic by Bugs Bunny.
However, when Bugs first did it, he was actually parodying a (then) famous scene from another movie called It Happened One Night. In the movie, Clark Gable is munching away on the carrot while talking and, when Bugs did it, he was merely referencing a scene which was quite well-known at the time, but became less so over the years.
4. Elephants love peanuts
Source: Oregon Zoo
The logic here is pretty much the same as that of the rabbits. Because of old cartoons, people get this idea that elephants are crazy about peanuts and they were constantly fed peanuts at circuses and zoos. This is not a common practice nowadays, though.
In the wild, peanuts are simply not a part of an elephant’s diet and most who’ve been fed peanuts in captivity don’t like them. They prefer hay and other grains along with plenty of fruits and vegetables.
5. We swallow 100 spiders per year in our sleep
Source: BHM Pics
The number associated with spider consumption is not always 100. Sometimes it is 50, sometimes it is 200. It doesn’t really matter, though, because none of those numbers are correct.
It could be possible for you to swallow a spider or two in your lifetime, but it is definitely not a common occurrence. Spiders know better than that. They have no reason to go anywhere near your mouth. This “fact” can be traced to the early days of the World Wide Web to show how people are gullible and will believe anything they read on the Internet.
6. Black Panthers are a species of animal
Black panthers are beautiful, but they are not an individual species of animal. These panthers are a subcategory of the Panthera genus (basically all the big cats) that suffer from melanism. Melanism (the opposite of albinism) is a condition which results in excessive black pigmentation. So, in other words, a black panther can be a range of animals, but typically they are jaguars in South America and leopards in Africa and Asia.
There have also been melanistic cougars reported in America, but there are no documented cases. You can tell what kind of species a black panther is if you observe it up-close. It is harder to see, but the coat will still have the distinctive markings of its particular species.
7. Ostriches stick their heads in the sand when they get scared
Source: Plumb Lines
This one would be funny if it was true, but at no point have ostriches been observed doing anything similar to this (except in cartoons, of course). Unlike what TV shows would have you believe, when an ostrich is in danger, it will either fight or flight like most other animals.
And it is equipped to do both quite well. It can reach speeds of up to 40 mph. In a fight, an ostrich has big, sharp claws and a kick powerful enough to take down a lion. At 9 feet and over 300 pounds, these guys are the closest thing we have to a velociraptor.
8. Polar bears cover their noses while hunting
Source: Polar Bear Endangered
Again, this would make an amusing animal fact if it was true, but it is simply not. The idea is that the black nose of the polar bear is the only thing that stands out against the white, snowy background so, in an effort to reach ninja-level stealth, the bear covers its nose with a paw. We have observed polar bears for thousands of hours in their natural habitat and at no point did any of them use this little hunting trick.
9. Cows can’t walk down stairs
Source: Straight Dope
The myth is that you can lead a cow up a flight a stairs but you can’t lead it back down again. Because of how their knees bend, or so the “fact” goes, cows simply cannot climb down stairs.
And that’s not exactly true, since a cow’s ability to move down stairs really depends on how steep the stairs are. From an evolutionary standpoint, cows really aren’t built for stairs. Why would they be, really? However, stairs don’t have any magical properties that stop cows dead in their tracks. Given enough time and practice, cows can get used to climbing stairs just fine.
10. Elephant trunks are like straws
Source: WordPress
Here’s another one which could probably be blamed on cartoons. Besides being its most distinguishing feature, an elephant’s trunk is one of the most unique nose designs in nature. But that’s all it is, though – a regular nose. Since it is very long and dexterous, an elephant can use it to grab things but its primary role is to breathe air, just like any other nose.
Something an elephant definitely cannot do is drink water through it like a straw. It kind of looks like that because elephants do suck in water through their trunks, but only to carry it into their mouths.
All That's Interesting
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Best CBD Companies
CBD Coupons
Farmers to FDA: Only CBD From American-Grown Hemp Is Legal
The hemp industry is already pumping new economic life into rural America. Farmers say that is exactly what Congress intended
AlenaPaulus | Getty Images
Peter Page
Senior Editor for Green Entrepreneur
Hemp supplied the paper on which the founding documents of American indepedence were written and was a reliable cash crops for generations of American farmers from colonial time until the plant was effectively outlawed as a result of big money politics during the Great Depression. Now that hemp is once again legal, it is again a lucrative cash crop during hard times in rural America.
What’s different is that now it is not fiber but cannabinoids, and specifically CBD, that make hemp valuable. But what’s the same is that farmers worry just as hemp fiber was muscled aside by big money invested in synthetic fibers in the 1930s, the big money of today will rush biosynthetic cannabinoids to market and squelch the potential of hemp to bring new economic vitality to farm country.
Today the FDA is holding a daylong public hearing on “Scientific Data and Information about Products Containing Cannabis or Cannabis-Derived Compounds,” which is really a daylong discussion about CBD, though it will have big implications for all cannabinoids as their potential is realized. The hemp industry will be amply represented and has a blunt message for regulators: CBD and all other cannabinoids, other than THC, are legal only when derived from American grown hemp.
Related: Facebook: Stop Censoring Hemp
“The source matters,” said Steve Bevan, chairman of the U.S. Hemp Roundtable and president of GenCanna, a fast growing hemp processor igniting an agricultural renaissance among Kentucky tobacco farmers seeking a new crop. “That is the crux of the congressional intent. It is very clear this (CBD) is supposed to be an agricultural product for the benefit of America’s farmers. This is about developing an industry from the ground up that compensates farmers better than for other crops, where farmers are growing using organic and healthy techniques because they have. It’s about a chance to reinvent things, to get in front of all the really big corporate interests so that a bunch of small folks, individual farmers and small emerging brands, have some room to grow.”
Hemp was essentially outlawed by the 1937 Marihuana Tax Act (yes, they spelled marijuana with an “h”) at the successful conclusion of a well-documented power play by the paper industry and the emerging synthetic fiber industry. The resilient plant has been making a major comeback since 2014 when Congress allowed state supervised pilot programs. Hemp was fully legalized in the 2018 Farm Bill, which distinguished hemp with trace amounts of THC, the cannabinoid demonized for its intoxicating effects, from marijuana, which is basically the same plant but with much greater amounts of THC.
By legalizing hemp, Congress opened the door to a legal source of CBD. Bevan argues Congress intended for American hemp farms to be the sole source, to the exclusion of both CBD derived from marijuana containing more than 0.3 THC and from laboratories synthesizing it from yeast.
Related: Why Synthetic CBD Is (Probably) the Future of Cannabis Pharma
“The Farm Bill carved hemp out from the Controlled Substances Act and allocated the legal production of hemp to American farmers,” Bevan said. “The main driver of the modern American hemp business is the cannabinoids derived from it, not including THC. Our message is that Congress intended this legalization of hemp to benefit the American farmer.”
Unlike all other agricultural products, no government agency is systematically collecting data on how many acres of hemp are planted or what amounts are harvested, and there is no commodity market or futures exchange posting hemp prices. Nonetheless, hemp is widely seen as immense new opportunity that farmers are seizing, as exemplified by GenCanna itself. The company moved to Kentucky, historically a major hemp producer, after the 2014 Farm Bill allowed a hemp pilot project to be established.
In 2018 GenCanna contracted with about a dozen Kentucky farmers who grew hemp on a bit more than 900 acres. It’s 2019 goal is to contract with roughly 50 Kentucky in hopes of getting at least 10,000 acres of hemp planted. The company is building a $40 million hemp processing facility that will create at least 80 new jobs in in Graves County, Kentucky, and has developed, in cooperation with the University of Kentucky, a hemp strain with zero THC that it intends to patent.
While the boom is all about CBD right now, hemp is rich in many other cannabinoids and the rest of the plant has countless uses, all of which Bevan sees as eventually driving even more rural economic development.
“As soon as we and the rest of the industry scales a little more we will take advantage of the fibers, the protein from hemp seeds, the hemp oil rich in essential fatty acids, but first there needs to be that agricultural base,” Bevan said. “If you let the farmers grow the floral material for the CBD, you get the fiber for free, you get the seed for free, you get all of the ancillary benefits of that economic potential.”
Other companies are making similiar investments in hemp processing and signing deals with farmers in other parts of the country. The industry taking root in farm country need the legal protection that Congress intended, Bevan argues.
Related: Pulling the Cork Out of the Processing Bottleneck Slowing the Hemp/CBD Boom
“The economic intent of this legislation is not to help some pharmaceutical development or Wall Street financial model,” Bevan said. “The intent is very simple, to give farmers a new healthful crop that people want and understand. It seems pretty obvious to me those who step outside that clear intent are attempting to profiteer in a way that isn’t in the best interests of the majority of people.”
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Rae: Baby Name of the Day
February 14, 2013 By appellationmountain 8 Comments
Spell it Ray, and it’s been worn by notable creative men, and of course, rays of sunlight. Swap the y for an e, and suddenly this name leans feminine.
Thanks to Jaimia for suggesting Rae as our Baby Name of the Day.
Ray Charles, Ray Bradbury, Sugar Ray Leonard. Ray is a guy’s name, one that feels kind of retro and hipster cool right about now.
He’s also a name with history aplenty. Raginmund came to England with the Normans as Raimund, Reimund, or Raimond. Eventually he became the familiar Raymond, the name that every loves. Er, loved. After more than a century in the Top 100, he’s on a steady decline in recent years. Still, there were at least two saints by the name, and he deserves to be considered a classic.
But Ray doesn’t necessarily come from Raymond. Especially if we’re talking about Rae, the name could be short for Rachel, an Old Testament appellation meaning ewe. Like Raymond, she ranks among the classics.
Plenty of other feminine names contain the same sound: Raven and Reagan come to mind. Tony Award winning actress Rae Allen was born Raffaella.
And then there’s the association with sunshine. From Summer to Soleil, names that bring to mind the sun are current favorites for girls. Ray of light comes from the same roots as the Latin radius – spoke. It’s a fairly recent innovation.
Both Ray and Rae are also surnames, with plenty of possible origins, from the French word for king to a Middle English word for deer.
All of this makes Rae for a girl feel like a modern choice, one borrowed from the boys. Only it isn’t so.
From 1880 into the 1980s, Rae regularly placed in the Top 1000 names for girls.
Despite her modern feel, she’s actually something of a vintage choice.
Uses that might be familiar include:
1979’s Norma Rae was based on the true story of a woman who organized a union in her textile factory. Sally Field won an Academy Award for her performance.
Actress Rae Dawn Chong made her name in the 1980s. Yes, it’s her real name – she has a sister called Robbi.
Nicole Kidman made her name in 1989’s thriller Dead Calm. Her character was named Rae.
A recent character on the British soap opera Hollyoaks answered to the name.
Do you remember the 2009 Hugh Grant/Sarah Jessica Parker flick Did You Hear About the Morgans? The pair play a couple in a witness protection program in Ray, Wyoming. At the end of the movie, they’ve adopted a daughter named Rae.
Carly Rae Jepsen rose to fame with the pop single “Call Me Maybe.”
We’ve also seen Rae in compound names, like Raelyn, and her sound occurs in Rayna and other names. While they’re in the Top 1000, somehow they don’t seem the most current of sounds.
But Rae has a simplicity and purity that makes her stand out. Single syllable names for girls are quite stylish. From the Biblical Ruth to the botanical Fern, the surname Sloane to the virtuous Grace.
If you’re after a short, frills free name that splits the difference between the modern and the traditional, Rae could be the name for you.
Photo credit: original by TooFarNorth via Flickr
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Panya says
I’ve a female cousin with the middle name Rae after her father’s first name Ray. In that case it’s okay, but I usually don’t like it, as it feels déclassé and a bit hick-ish.
Dont agree on your comments on it being hick-ish at all. It is a Scottish surname as well as cool name of anime character as well as starwars character. It is a beautiful name.
I do think that the Star Wars character has changed the perception of the name; I no longer feel that it’s always déclassé. But I still think it’s a bit hick-ish. That’s probably partly influenced by my step-great-grandfather named Raymond, called Ray, who lived on a farm and wore overalls almost exclusively. //shrug// Not everyone has to agree. 🙂
I dig Rae as a middle name for girls. At least it’s not Rose.
Kaeli says
I like Ray…..or Rae! I was very close to my Grandpa Ray, who passed away very suddenly at a relatively young age. I would love to honor him with naming a child after him, most likely in the middle. I feel inclined to use Ray for both a boy or girl though! Or I’m toying with using his last name (my mother’s maiden), which would also work as a middle……
Jaimia says
Thank you so much for featuring this name. This is the name of my grandmother (well middle name her first is Elsie) however she goes by Rae. It is also my sister’s middle name. Because it is unisex I personally wouldn’t use it as a first name however I think it works especially well as a middle name. It could be an unexpected alternative to similar sounding names like Mae, Maeve, and Faye. It also feels naturey with the link to sun rays – I love that. Rae is a very special name to me and I’m glad that it means more than ewe.
SilentOne says
I was all ready for Tia or Gia today. But about Rae… well, it’s a choice I can respect but isn’t really my style.
Raye Highland says
My name is Raye. I’m named for my late grandfather who was a farmer in northeastern Colorado. I can’t recall seeing him in anything other than denim overalls until he & my grandmother moved to town. It’s my honor & privilege to be named after my grandpa Ray.
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Historical and future needs for geospatial iodide occurrence in surface and groundwaters of the united states of america
Naushita Sharma, Tanju Karanfil, Paul Westerhoff
Engineering, Ira A. Fulton Schools of (IAFSE)
While iodide (I-) is critical for biological systems, it can serve as a precursor to organic iodinated disinfection byproducts (I-DBPs) of human health concern during water treatment. Thus, understanding potential I- occurrence in fresh waters is critical. Although I- occurrence data are sparse in surface water (SW) or groundwater (GW) used for drinking water supplies, data exist for other locations. We analyzed historical I- occurrence for â 9200 SW and GW sampling locations in the United States to understand potential I- sources and also spatial and temporal variability. I- ranged from below detection limits (<1 μg/L) to 95th percentile concentrations of 320 and 1300 μg/L (median = 12 and 13 μg/L), respectively, in SW and GW. I- appears to be influenced by halite basins, organic-rich shale/oil formations, saltwater intrusion, and rainfall, with median Br-/I- mass ratios of 10 and 17 μg/μg in SW and GW, respectively. Our results demonstrated considerable variability in iodine sources and speciation, which can impact I-DBP formation at WTPs. We advocate for occurrence studies to measure I-, IO3 -, and total iodine in raw and finished drinking waters to fill critical data gaps necessary to understand the potential formation of I-DBPs that impact public health.
Environmental Science and Technology Letters
https://doi.org/10.1021/acs.estlett.9b00278
Surface waters
Byproducts
saline intrusion
Sharma, N., Karanfil, T., & Westerhoff, P. (2019). Historical and future needs for geospatial iodide occurrence in surface and groundwaters of the united states of america. Environmental Science and Technology Letters, 6(7), 379-388. https://doi.org/10.1021/acs.estlett.9b00278
Historical and future needs for geospatial iodide occurrence in surface and groundwaters of the united states of america. / Sharma, Naushita; Karanfil, Tanju; Westerhoff, Paul.
In: Environmental Science and Technology Letters, Vol. 6, No. 7, 28.05.2019, p. 379-388.
Sharma, N, Karanfil, T & Westerhoff, P 2019, 'Historical and future needs for geospatial iodide occurrence in surface and groundwaters of the united states of america', Environmental Science and Technology Letters, vol. 6, no. 7, pp. 379-388. https://doi.org/10.1021/acs.estlett.9b00278
Sharma N, Karanfil T, Westerhoff P. Historical and future needs for geospatial iodide occurrence in surface and groundwaters of the united states of america. Environmental Science and Technology Letters. 2019 May 28;6(7):379-388. https://doi.org/10.1021/acs.estlett.9b00278
Sharma, Naushita ; Karanfil, Tanju ; Westerhoff, Paul. / Historical and future needs for geospatial iodide occurrence in surface and groundwaters of the united states of america. In: Environmental Science and Technology Letters. 2019 ; Vol. 6, No. 7. pp. 379-388.
@article{63bf8ad45a524922ae4b97e4882b8754,
title = "Historical and future needs for geospatial iodide occurrence in surface and groundwaters of the united states of america",
abstract = "While iodide (I-) is critical for biological systems, it can serve as a precursor to organic iodinated disinfection byproducts (I-DBPs) of human health concern during water treatment. Thus, understanding potential I- occurrence in fresh waters is critical. Although I- occurrence data are sparse in surface water (SW) or groundwater (GW) used for drinking water supplies, data exist for other locations. We analyzed historical I- occurrence for {\^a} 9200 SW and GW sampling locations in the United States to understand potential I- sources and also spatial and temporal variability. I- ranged from below detection limits (<1 μg/L) to 95th percentile concentrations of 320 and 1300 μg/L (median = 12 and 13 μg/L), respectively, in SW and GW. I- appears to be influenced by halite basins, organic-rich shale/oil formations, saltwater intrusion, and rainfall, with median Br-/I- mass ratios of 10 and 17 μg/μg in SW and GW, respectively. Our results demonstrated considerable variability in iodine sources and speciation, which can impact I-DBP formation at WTPs. We advocate for occurrence studies to measure I-, IO3 -, and total iodine in raw and finished drinking waters to fill critical data gaps necessary to understand the potential formation of I-DBPs that impact public health.",
author = "Naushita Sharma and Tanju Karanfil and Paul Westerhoff",
doi = "10.1021/acs.estlett.9b00278",
journal = "Environmental Science and Technology Letters",
T1 - Historical and future needs for geospatial iodide occurrence in surface and groundwaters of the united states of america
AU - Sharma, Naushita
AU - Karanfil, Tanju
AU - Westerhoff, Paul
N2 - While iodide (I-) is critical for biological systems, it can serve as a precursor to organic iodinated disinfection byproducts (I-DBPs) of human health concern during water treatment. Thus, understanding potential I- occurrence in fresh waters is critical. Although I- occurrence data are sparse in surface water (SW) or groundwater (GW) used for drinking water supplies, data exist for other locations. We analyzed historical I- occurrence for â 9200 SW and GW sampling locations in the United States to understand potential I- sources and also spatial and temporal variability. I- ranged from below detection limits (<1 μg/L) to 95th percentile concentrations of 320 and 1300 μg/L (median = 12 and 13 μg/L), respectively, in SW and GW. I- appears to be influenced by halite basins, organic-rich shale/oil formations, saltwater intrusion, and rainfall, with median Br-/I- mass ratios of 10 and 17 μg/μg in SW and GW, respectively. Our results demonstrated considerable variability in iodine sources and speciation, which can impact I-DBP formation at WTPs. We advocate for occurrence studies to measure I-, IO3 -, and total iodine in raw and finished drinking waters to fill critical data gaps necessary to understand the potential formation of I-DBPs that impact public health.
AB - While iodide (I-) is critical for biological systems, it can serve as a precursor to organic iodinated disinfection byproducts (I-DBPs) of human health concern during water treatment. Thus, understanding potential I- occurrence in fresh waters is critical. Although I- occurrence data are sparse in surface water (SW) or groundwater (GW) used for drinking water supplies, data exist for other locations. We analyzed historical I- occurrence for â 9200 SW and GW sampling locations in the United States to understand potential I- sources and also spatial and temporal variability. I- ranged from below detection limits (<1 μg/L) to 95th percentile concentrations of 320 and 1300 μg/L (median = 12 and 13 μg/L), respectively, in SW and GW. I- appears to be influenced by halite basins, organic-rich shale/oil formations, saltwater intrusion, and rainfall, with median Br-/I- mass ratios of 10 and 17 μg/μg in SW and GW, respectively. Our results demonstrated considerable variability in iodine sources and speciation, which can impact I-DBP formation at WTPs. We advocate for occurrence studies to measure I-, IO3 -, and total iodine in raw and finished drinking waters to fill critical data gaps necessary to understand the potential formation of I-DBPs that impact public health.
U2 - 10.1021/acs.estlett.9b00278
DO - 10.1021/acs.estlett.9b00278
JO - Environmental Science and Technology Letters
JF - Environmental Science and Technology Letters
10.1021/acs.estlett.9b00278
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There’s more than one route into studying in our creative community. From Evening & Saturday Courses, to Foundation and BA courses, to research degrees, you’ll find a path through AUB that suits you. Simply select the course level you’d like to study.
Found a course that you’d like to apply for? Simply select from the boxes below to find out how to apply for each of our courses and for advice on entry requirements.
We believe people learn best in a vibrant, caring environment. We want to help you thrive while you’re here.
On campus, you’ll find lots of great resources, facilities and, most importantly, a friendly environment. Lots of the courses overlap or collaborate, so you’ll meet plenty of new friends studying other subjects.
You can find out more about life at AUB by exploring the sections below.
Established in 1883 as a specialist institution, Arts University Bournemouth is a leading University offering high quality specialist education in art, design, media and performance across the creative industries.
We’re passionate about the creative subjects we teach and continue to encourage curiosity, risk-taking and adventure in exploring and pushing subject knowledge and its boundaries.
The University is situated two miles from the centre of Bournemouth, on the border between Bournemouth and Poole. Here are details on how to get in touch and how find us.
At AUB, our flourishing research and scholarship culture celebrates and enables original investigation; extending knowledge fields and developing new understanding within the arts.
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Staff research is supported from within AUB by grants for particular projects and by a Research Fellowship programme offering generous remission from teaching and administration. Researchers are also encouraged to apply for external funding for the full range of research from practice through history and theory.
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Archives Wales
June 26, 2019 archiveswales
Conwy Archive Service: preparing for our move to the Conwy Culture Centre
After years of grant applying and wrangling with architects, planning departments and official bodies of various kinds and rounds of consultation with the public, Conwy Culture Centre is taking physical shape on its site by the town walls in Conwy. We hope to open our doors later on in the year.
Conwy Archive Service will move from its current somewhat dilapidated premises in a former Victorian school building in Llandudno to be a core partner service in the Culture Centre. We will be joined by Conwy Library and Conwy County’s museum collections. The Centre will also have arts and community space and a café.
The design is for a one storey building, set back from the road and incorporating a good deal of glazing and a green roof. It is hoped that viewed from the town walls, the modern building will be a discreet presence, merging into the surroundings of Bodlondeb Park. The build also has a basement floor which contains the heritage collection storage. The plan is for minimal external environmental controls and relying on environmentally friendly “passive haus” principles to store the archive collections in a stable environment.
The Archive Service has also been much involved in working with the interpretation consultants tasked with designing the heritage displays that will showcase the archive and museum collections and this has proved to be an immense task in terms of providing research and guidance.
Since a large chunk of funding for the centre has come from the National Lottery Heritage Fund, the project has committed to an activity plan designed to expand and diversify audiences. The Archive Service has been involved in a number of the new sub projects which has seen us working with our Fusion officer to provide accredited training in family and house history to groups of adults who would not normally access the Archive Service and a “Stories from the Archives” storytelling programme that has reached over 900 local school children so far.
As the glass goes into the new building we are putting renewed effort into the essential activity of preparing the collections for the move. This involves checking the packaging of each item and replacing where necessary. We are also barcoding each archive container and conducting a thorough inventory as we are planning to use barcodes for location control during and after the move.
For many aspects of work on the Culture Centre project, we have been much indebted to help from our committed volunteers, whose numbers have increased as part of the activity plan. We have also been host partners to trainees from the Cultural Ambition programme, with our first trainee off to university in the autumn and our second due with us in September.
All exciting times. Ok, generally exciting times, no one can get that exercised by barcode readers! But we look forward to opening the doors at the new centre and the start of a new era where we can offer a service in fit for purpose surroundings.
Kate Hallett, Archivist & Collections Manager for Conwy
Published by archiveswales
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Blizzard won’t reverse Hearthstone pro’s Hong Kong protest suspension
JournalBot
Registered: Apr 5, 2005
Blizzard boss shifts some blame for initial decisions to Chinese publishing partner.
metalsheep
Blizzard really dispelling the notion they've lost their Independence to greed with that one! /S
Kilroy420
<blah blah>We want to keep making money in China<blah blah>
Reading between the lines of Blizzard bullshit, it comes down to this.
FCKGW-RHQQ2-YXRKT-8TG6W-2B7Q8
All these American corps bowing down to China really sickens and disgusts me.
digital0verdose
The one exception to that, he said, is "official broadcasts," including Blizzard-sponsored esports events, which the company wants to be "focused on the games."
Because they are shown live in China. If you are going to quadruple (or whatever we are on now) down on this shit, at least be honest.
They're so full of shit. So many broadcasts have been about players promoting gay awareness and other social/political stances.
Blizzard is within their rights. It's just that they're they're completely full of shit and total hypocrites.
Burn em?
nixass
Statement like this only after Blizzcon ended? How convenient
Sarty
I don't think the stated defense is totally outlandish, but the fact that it took them several weeks to formulate it renders it meaningless. It's not why they issued the ban in the first place, so I don't care if Blizzard has a facially valid post hoc justification.
Adreaver
Interesting that NetEase holds the login credentials and sole right to post to the Blizzard Weibo (and presumably other social media) accounts in China. I expected that Blizzard would be writing the posts and clearing them through NetEase management for China release, not NetEase writing them directly in Blizzard's name. Definitely explains the "pride of China" bit.
That said, this is all hollow talk without actual change moving forward.
nixass wrote:
He made the statement in an interview during Blizzcon. PC Gamer was at Blizzcon when they conducted the interview.
Last edited by Adreaver on Mon Nov 04, 2019 11:11 am
MeghanAJH
The article seems to use the names "Brack" and "Brand" interchangeably. "Brand" seems to be an autocorrect error.
cervier
Registered: Jul 6, 2007
Then my boycott Blizzard decision will stand too. Not that it's a difficult decision, these days they mostly make shitty games anyway.
Last edited by cervier on Mon Nov 04, 2019 11:08 am
Netbrian
Akemi wrote:
This clinched it for me. It's ludicrous to spend all of June on LGBTQ celebrations, and then pivot to "but we're not political" now. Pride is nothing if not political.
treckin
J Allen Brack Turner took Blizzards reputation behind the dumpster...
50me12
Registered: Sep 3, 2012
If they didn't reverse it before, they weren't going to reverse it now.
That absurd non statement statement made it clear where they stand.
Blizzard is dead to me. I can't justify ever giving money to them. This is a much bigger deal than some game(s).
UserIDAlreadyInUse
"We didn't do what we actually did. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain! You all have short memories, right? We're banking on that."
Atrioss
treckin wrote:
...and wrenched it like a two dollar hooker? Sorry, just had to ask.
Got Nate?
and that Blizzard itself is "not legally allowed to operate or to publish games in China."
Welp, that's a rather black and white statement. get out of china if you're not legally allowed to operate there.
Operative Me
Tribus: Apx 1.496 x 10 ^8 kilometers NW of Sol
I'm not sure that this prevaricating nonsense is going to do much. I'm not even really "mad" about the decision they made, but I also don't agree with what it represents about their company. As such, I'm not buying Activision/Blizzard games. Trying to make excuses for their decision just reinforces that nothing has changed except they don't want to hear the criticism. It's the difference between a child grudgingly apologizing because they don't want to be punished and them apologizing because they actually mean it. The former is largely meaningless.
They messed up. And until they just acknowledge that and take steps to avoid making a similar mistake in the future, there is no reason to believe they won't do it again. Since I don't support that decision, I'm not going to support them, as a whole, financially.
I've got nothing against the people who make these games, I think they often do a damn good job. But much like the boneheads who ran Deadspin into the ground, the people at the top need to understand that mealy-mouthed bullshit isn't going to bring people back. I sincerely hope that people who give a crap about this take it upon themselves to avoid Diablo IV or any other game they might want, until the people at the top are removed. They are the problem here, and their reaction thus far implies they think their target audience are morons.
superjawes
Netbrian wrote:
There's the test for Blizzard, then. I would love to see a team or player make a postgame statement calling out LGBTQ+ discrimination. Force Blizzard to punish them to adhere to their "standards" or show that there is a different standard when it comes to [that other region in the world where they make a ton of money].
ItchyPoo
I am protesting with my wallet. Sorry Diablo 4, not gonna not going to join Diablo 1-3 on my system.
oramirez
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Deputy Cartman
Registered: Jun 3, 2012
Operative Me wrote:
A disturbing amount of people view admitting having made a mistake, that they were wrong and thus there is room for improvement, as a sign of weakness, thus something to be avoided at all costs. That and the resulting blood-in-the-water feeding frenzy that would almost assuredly happen and result in this Brack guy being booted out if he were to actually come forward and say "Yeah, we done fucked up. We're sorry and here's how we're going to remedy it" is why we get mealy-mouthed pablum.
If he were to come out and say "The CCP is anathema to free speech and civil rights and we would rather lose access to mainland China than bend down and kiss Chairman Pooh-Bear's ring", he would win tons of respect from western consumers, but the slavering ghouls who would throw their mothers into woodchippers for an extra 10% gain on their portfolios would make sure he was gone as soon as humanly possible. What we recognize as a modern and open society means nothing to these people; only money does, and the fact they want their little corporate fiefdoms to do with as they see fit because they will be able to buy their way out of most trouble is not lost on them.
Not defending it; just understanding it. A shame that Blizzard has to go down this path, seeing as I loved Starcraft back in the day, but between this and the "click like you're having a conniption fit" pro-gamer rabbit hole they went down with Starcraft 2 and how I refuse to touch MMOs... I think I'll be OK not giving them more of my money.
Last edited by Deputy Cartman on Mon Nov 04, 2019 11:21 am
I also want to take time to thank Ars for their fair and balanced coverage of all this Blizzard situation.
I'm kinda disgusted when I look at other sites like Polygon that have no less than 15 articles on their front page all gushing about Blizzard games (to be honest, I couldn't stomach to read their articles, but nothing in their headlines indicates any criticism toward Blizzard).
That's why I subscribe to Ars, thank you again.
Timmy O'Toole82
Yup, not buying your crap again Blizzard. There are plenty of other companies out there that deserve my dollars.
Cannot wait for Baldur's Gate 3! Wizards at least has a spine.
ItchyPoo wrote:
Is that double negative intented?
Tribus: The Big Apple
Somehow I don't see Blizzard rushing to ban personalities who criticise American politicians, the Hong Kong protestors, etc. Selective enforcement of rules by market impact, and all that.
If a personality really wanted to put Blizzard's feet to the fire they would engage in pro-Mainland activism at an official event. Then Blizzard would have to choose between their farce of a policy or offending a lucrative market.
DiavoJinx
Blizzard President J. Allen Brack said in an interview with PC Gamer this weekend
In explaining that decision, Brand reiterated the message that
"Again, it's not about the content of Blitzchung's message," Brand said, echoing previous comments from Blizzard.
Brand's interview comes after he issued a vague apology from the Blizzcon stage Friday
Brand also reiterated in the interview that
Brand said directly that Blizzard
Elsewhere in the interview, though, Brand says that Blizzard Taiwan
Together, Brand said, those groups "acted very rapidly and we acted very quickly"
using an amount of haste that Brand now calls "the failure of this story."
His last name is Brack. Not Brand.
Please proof-read before giving the okay to publish an article to the public so that misinformation, the antithesis of your sole purpose, isn't spread. Thank you. =)
A former Blizzard fanboy of 20 years (since Diablo 1) who loathes J. Allen Brack.
TerribleTony
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Thr2hrmrf
people are making wayyy too much out of this Blizzard decision. It had nothing to do with China.
Tribus: Missoula, Montana
So, while we are on this topic. I went to see Terminator Dark Fate last night. And I was surprised to see Tencent was one of the studios funding the movie.
Tribus: Reading, England
Registered: Dec 8, 1999
So, not only was the Blizzcon apology non-specific, their unwritten policy has not changed.
vlam
Dear Blizzard,
As a corporation, your support for what I do or say on my own time when it doesn't involve you whatsoever is about as meaningful to me as my support of your video games by pirating them to play and enjoy instead of actually paying you for them. Do you feel my love and support when I pirate games, or when I pay you the money you request? I think we both know the answer to that one: dolla bills = support.
Similarly, if you would like to support my rights to free speech, it needs to be in a manner that involves you, especially including your highly publicized game tournaments.
Every fucking person you're trying to placate with this bullshit you allow to ooze out of your facial orifice
SaaSaFRaaS
I would boycott Blizzard, but they've never published a game I was remotely interested in buying. Hopefully they will release such a game someday so I can boycott it.
Deputy Cartman wrote:
And I think it's important to show these folks that this won't work. That the only way to actually move on is to accept responsibility. Which is why I'm not buying Diablo IV, or any other game they make.
I mean, he doesn't even need to go that far. "We didn't handle this the way it should have been handled. While we don't want our broadcasts to become a place for everyone to shout out their personal causes, we could have done more to make our policies clear. In our haste to correct the problem, we overreacted. We are going to work to make our policies more clear, and because they weren't clear, we're reducing his ban to one month, including the time since the initial ban.
I don't need them to denounce the CCP to be okay with them, I just need them to accept that they acted like asshats. I get the desire to enter China's market. It's huge. I don't even begrudge them having firm policies that prevent people from promoting their personal causes. I just think their overreaction to please the CCP is asinine and overbearing. That's the sign of incompetent leadership, and that's the thing I want them to acknowledge.
No, I get it. You're explaining why these people think that apologizing and doing the right thing is bad. Because it might be, for them. But it's also the right thing to do. And I hope other people make it a point to hold them accountable even if they try to avoid it. Stop playing their games. Stop buying their products. If these people are more concerned with themselves than the people they affect, then it needs to hurt them. And the way you do that is the exact mechanism they're so terrified of: making it a bad business decision to behave the way they did. Make it hurt the quarterly reports. Make it tank the valuation of the company. Lay the blame on the people responsible, personally. Make it follow them.
Because while I agree that people think that apologizing is the worst decision, we can choose to make that the wrong answer. Activision/Blizzard will not get a dollar of my money, nor a second of my time until they do better.
msawzall
Thr2hrmrf wrote:
Brack? Is that you?
FinallyAnAccount
I support Hong Kong personally and oppose China's dictatorship (that only seems less objectionable in contrast to less competent regimes!). But I appreciate the needle that Blizzard is trying to thread here. Comparable events, like the Olympics etc, already have policies about this.
@akemi's point about pride celebrations are valid, but if Blizzard wanted to be more precise, they could probably have limited it to geo-political issues and their general anti-discrimination policies.
Atterus
Tribus: USA
My sellout translator says: "we really don't want to lose the domestic customers and be chased out of the corporate haven that is the US, but the money in China is too good so we are willing to bend over backwards to make sales over there. Because we have already put in so much effort to make sales possible on the ultimate cash cow market, we happily bend over for the oppressive and autocratic regime making lame excuses as we go."
I mean seriously? A five second declaration isn't going to seize up the broadcast. Plenty of other big events had a similar outburst and guess what? If the broadcasters (ie, blizzard) doesn't LET the focus go to it... It doesn't! Wild isnt it? Nah, I think the issue is that Xi was upset because a very popular show flat out broke the illusion that Hong Kong was under control and millions of oppressed Chinese learned something that was blacked out on the mainland. That was the issue, and blizzard was threatened over it.
CraigJ
Registered: Mar 7, 2014
Blizzard. Suck it up, admit you were wrong, reverse the bans. If Hasbro can ignore this stuff you can too.
Riiiiiiiiiiight. Just like the NBA not allowing players to be interviewed while in China had nothing to do with China. Sure, a notoriously thin-skinned and authoritarian regime complained, and sure, they have no problem using their citizens (and their money) as a bludgeon to threaten corporate entities into doing what they want, but obviously, these things aren't connected to major companies bending over backwards to prevent criticism of the way that China is violating the terms of it's agreement with Hong Kong and repressing people who live there.
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Biz & IT —
Transistors go 3D as Intel re-invents the microchip
Intel has announced the commercial introduction of a game-changing new …
Jon Stokes - May 5, 2011 12:30 am UTC
with 110 posters participating
At an event today in San Francisco, Intel announced one of the most important pieces of semiconductor news in many years: the company's upcoming 22nm processors will feature a fundamental change to the design of the most basic building block of every computer chip, the transistor.
Intel has been exploring the new transistor for over a decade, and the company first announced a significant breakthrough with the design in 2002. A trickle of announcements followed over the years, as the new transistor progressed from being one possible direction among many to its newly crowned status as the official future of Intel's entire product line.
In this short article, I'll give my best stab at explaining what Intel has announced—the so-called tri-gate transistor. Semiconductor physics are not my strong suit, so corrections/clarifications/comments are welcome. Also, this explanation focuses solely on the "3D" part of today's announcements. Other features of the 22nm process, like high-K dielectrics and such, are ignored. (So if you see a funny term on a slide and you don't know what it means, either ignore it or hit one of the Related Links for more info.)
But before we dive into what's new about Intel's transistor design, we first have to review how traditional transistors work.
Planar transistors and leakage current
A planar transistor
In the diagram above, you can see that a traditional "planar" transistor—the kind that was first invented at the dawn of the microchip era, and which has been the norm up until today's announcement—consists of three main parts: source, drain, and gate. (This is actually one specific kind of transistor, a MOSFET, but let's not get too deep into the weeds.)
The device may look odd, but it's really just an electrical switch. Think of the source and the drain as the two slots in a standard electrical socket; if you stuck a conducting wire (like a coat-hanger ) into both of the slots, you'd close the circuit and current would flow (and sparks would fly, flesh would burn, etc... so don't try that at home.) The transistor's substrate is sort of like a magic wire that can either conduct electricity or not, and the gate is the switch that controls whether the wire will conduct or not.
So when a voltage is applied to the metal plate that forms the transistor's gate, a tiny strip of semiconductor material between the source and the drain (our magic wire) changes from an insulator into a conductor, thereby turning the switch "on" and allowing current to flow from the source to the drain. When the voltage is removed, current stops flowing... or, at least, current is supposed to stop flowing when the switch is off. In reality, trace amounts of current will constantly flow between the source and the drain. This so-called "leakage current" wastes precious power and becomes even more of a problem as transistors get smaller and more numerous.
So to recap, the basic idea is that the transistor is a switch that works because a tiny bit of insulating material between two "electrodes" magically morphs into a conductor when a voltage is applied to it, thereby closing the circuit.
Let's take a look at a different diagram of the same thing:
That little strip of blue, the inversion layer, is the region of material near the gate that turns into an electrical conductor when exposed to a voltage. Again, the gate is a small metal plate, and when that plate has a voltage applied to it the layer of semiconductor material that's sandwiched right up against it turns into a conductor.
Now, as transistor gates get smaller, that little strip of blue conducting material naturally gets smaller, and as that little strip of blue gets smaller, less current is able to squeeze through it. When the gate and inversion layer get really small, as they are at the 22nm feature size, that layer can only let a tiny trickle of electrons flow through when the switch is on. But there's already a tiny trickle of (leakage) current flowing through when the switch is off, so the end result is a switch that looks almost the same when it's off as it does when it's on. That's not good, because flipping the switch "on" and "off" is how the chip transmits the 1's and 0's of binary.
There are two main was to fix this problem: 1) reduce the leakage current, and/or 2) force more electrons through that blue conductive strip. Intel's new design does a bit of both, but I'll focus on option 2, because that explains the majority of what's new and important about this advance.
There are two ways to get more electrons through that tiny blue strip. The first and most obvious approach is to crank up the amount of voltage that you apply to the gate, so that the inversion layer will become even more electrically conductive. That's not ideal, though, because more voltage means more power consumption.
The other approach, which is better, is to find a way to make that blue strip even bigger. A bigger blue strip could accommodate more electrical current, and it would do it with less voltage—i.e., you don't need to crank the voltage on the gate up quite so high in order to squeeze more conductivity out of that tiny strip of material, because the strip itself is larger and can transmit more current.
Intel took this second approach, and the chipmaker accomplished this by stretching the gate out into the third dimension.
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155 Reader Comments
Yoozer Ars Scholae Palatinae
sd4f wrote:
Planning on building a pc soon, and so far, there havn't been any significant developments, just slightly better improvements.
You can wait for every technological innovation to come by all the time and never buy a computer you do stuff with.
If what you have now should be replaced because it's old and clunky and slow and it bugs the hell out of you, replace it now. Otherwise you're going to wait a year, pay top dollar for the new innovation, and in the meantime you are still bugged by your clunker.
704 posts | registered May 10, 2007
dlux Ars Legatus Legionis
Yoozer wrote:
I heard the AMD/IBM one is two gate instead of "tri-gate", although I don't really understand what the difference is exactly.
They'll just be like "fuck it, we're doing FIVE gates."
22465 posts | registered Jan 1, 2006
Anita Man Ars Scholae Palatinae
Intel will be a strong player in mobile thanks to process technology. Process is king.
1466 posts | registered Jan 18, 2006
Pirokobo Ars Tribunus Militum
"sort of like a magic wire"
Magic. Got it.
Oskiee Wise, Aged Ars Veteran
Now bulldozer is coming, and this article makes pretty vibrant claims, as well as intel touting ivy bridge (22nm) to be 20% faster than the current sandy bridge (maybe this tri-gate transistors has a lot to do with it).
Frustrating because i want to get best outcome for my dollars, and worst thing is to buy and find that you get a big step come out relatively soon, as opposed to other times where the improvements are fairly minor and mundane.
Im in the same boat, but this works out for us. We wait until the new processors come out, see how they really perform, if they suck all the last generation stuff will be cheaper. If they do great, then buy the new stuff. While we wait, we save more money, and buy more toys for our new PC :OD
166 posts | registered Jan 7, 2009
paul234542624 Smack-Fu Master, in training
introiboad wrote:
Killing Time wrote:
"I won't speculate as to whether this will finally push Atom down into ARM territory in terms of absolute power draw"
what is ARM doing differently than intel that gives them such great power draw?
ARM is a fabless company that designs netlist-level processor cores. This article is about a foundry process at the transistor level, and is not at all related to the actual architecture. ARM processors could be produced in an intel foundry using this tri-gate process and then the inherent advantages of those processors (simpler ISA, lower performance, tuned for power consumptions) would be added to the process advantage.
Exactly. Most of these geeks really don't know what they are talking about when they bring ARM into this conversation. ARM and x86 are merely architectures defined in a high-level HDL (hardware description language) / netlist. Either of them could be manufactured/fabbed by Intel, TSMC, ST, IBM, GlobalFoundries, Samsung, et. etc. All you need to do is take the ARM or x86 design and run it through the appropriate synthesis tool, together with updated libraries for the low level building blocks supplied by the fab and you can manufacture at that fab.
I'm sure Intel will be bringing ARM SoCs for mobile phones to this new 22nm process, especially considering Intel now own what was Infineon's mobile division.
90 posts | registered Mar 23, 2011
ElectricBlue Ars Tribunus Militum
Just think of how much battery life you could get out of a smartphone with 50% less power draw. Incredible
2234 posts | registered Jul 6, 2003
bolomkxxviii Ars Centurion
Well, this should carry us over til the age of memristors.
http://www.hpl.hp.com/news/2010/apr-jun/memristor.html
... only difference is that the designs for ARM architectures are intended to be licensed by others, whereas Intel controls completely its own x86 architecture designs.
Also forgot to mention that the fabs like TSMC etc. have a different processes for say desktop chips and a separate Low Power process for mobile chips - I'm sure Intel will also will have such process variants.
Banzai51 Ars Tribunus Angusticlavius
dlux wrote:
NuVector wrote:
That's just it, they're scaling into the third dimension.
Pffft. Buckaroo Bonzai already scaled into the 8th dimension, way back in the 80s.
It's Banzai, thank you very much. I'm a warcry, not a tree.
hwrd_1 Smack-Fu Master, in training
Banzai51 wrote:
To be fair to tormented trees, it's "bonsai".
(I used to have a MacPlus which would exclaim "Eject, Buckaroo! Eject!" whenever it spit out a floppy disk. Of course I had a 4 year old son at the time.)
51 posts | registered Feb 18, 2009
It's Banzai, thank you very much. I'm a warcry, not a kitten.
Apologies - I was all out of Wite-Out and hoped no one would notice.
heftysmurf Ars Centurion
I struggled with semiconductors in Uni. If we'd had this presentation first lecture I might not have wasted so much time trying to work out the qualitative aspects of the transistor from the mathematics!
Or maybe I'm just dumb.
joshv Ars Tribunus Militum
nxmehta wrote:
fuxxx wrote:
3. Moore's law for bulk planar CMOS is already dead. Moore's law in general will continue though with tricks like these, but eventually we will NOT be able to manufacture things any smaller. Less than 1nm feature size? Not gonna happen. Maybe we'll die at 5nm, maybe at 10, but for sure we will be done somewhere in the 1-10nm region. There are options to advance computing (3d integration, for example) but as far as "shrink the transistors every 18 months", that's it, the end.
Forgive me, I'm reading Kurzweil at the moment so this is very timely.
You're not considering the changes that 22nm will help usher in! In some way, 22nm, and then 11nm, will be responsible for the development of the next paradigm.
A little insight on this...
If we're talking about making devices that are a) made out of silicon and b) switch and hold state using charge and not magic, then you're not going below 1nm in minimum feature size. The diameter of a single silicon atom is around 1/4 nm. A 1nm device would have a channel length of at most 4 atoms (since feature size is > channel width, it would be smaller in reality, probably closer to 1 atom). Good luck manufacturing (let alone operating) that transistor!
The changes that 22nm will usher in are not unknown. We know what they are (and have known for 10-15 years). They're in the ITRS. I know that people like to believe in the power of science and innovation, and they like to think of the semiconductor industry as some guy in his garage inventing things and figuring out ways to develop "new paradigms"... the reality is that there has been a substantial amount of money, time and work done to forecast what has to happen in the next several years.
Now, if you want to make devices out of some other magic material or using another mechanism, that's another story. As of right now, however, there's still nothing that shows any kind of real scaling properties below 1nm (and quite frankly it's really hard to think of anything that should in theory... have fun computing with subatomic particles!). Innovations in computing will have to come from places other than 'shrink my transistors'. And there are lots of directions for that, don't get me wrong. But it's important to be realistic about the direction we are currently headed in.
I think his point Re: Kurzweil is that the last stages of CMOS tech will be used to create computers that are powerful enough design/model whatever comes next. We've probably still got a 2-4x transistor density increase left in process shrinkage, and I imagine after that we'll get another 2-4x out of layered chips (real 3D). After that in terms of creating useful high speed computing devices it's all about power usage and software - and we've probably still got a lot of headroom there. So by the time that we've done all that we can do with CMOS, we will probably be able to produce computing devices with 10-20x the performance of a present day device, in the same physical and power envelop of the present day device.
Hat Monster Ars Legatus Legionis et Subscriptor
How did Intel manage to invent a 1999 paper published by nobody associated with Intel?
46271 posts | registered Jan 21, 2001
TommySch Ars Scholae Palatinae
joshv wrote:
I would like to see a move away from the form factor that we have today. Id like to see a multi-layer CPU, that is multiple CPUs on top of each other. We could use water cooling to keep them from melting. The chip should be made with embedded water channels instead of a top surface for heat exchange. A 500W TDP CPU would be nice.
I know, it wont happen.
frankie1969 Ars Scholae Palatinae
Pirokobo wrote:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clarke%27s_three_laws
We all live in the future now, get used to it.
David Bradbury Ars Scholae Palatinae
Shocking, 3 pages of comments and no one made a Terminator/Skynet 3D chip comment. Arsians, you're letting the community down! ;-)
podperson Wise, Aged Ars Veteran
1. Rumors Intel is courting Apple's fab business
2. Intel announces major process improvement (beyond "mere" process shrink) that has particularly significant implications for mobile
In case others have not made this clear, this annoucement concerns process not ISA. This process could be used to manufacture ARM or x86 (or PowerPC) processors.
DanNeely Ars Tribunus Angusticlavius et Subscriptor
paul234542624 wrote:
Starting with the 45nm process level intel has. Their low power 45nm process is used in the z6xx atoms chips trading off ~10% performance in order to get power consumption levels almost as low as existing arm designs. IIRC it's also used in some other Intel embedded parts.
8264 posts | registered Feb 2, 2010
Killing Time Ars Tribunus Militum
David Bradbury wrote:
hey c'mon, there is a buckaroo banzai reference not 6 posts above this.
and top top that off, there is a buckaroo banzai spelling correction right after.
i dont think commenters let anyone down here
2207 posts | registered Dec 12, 2007
podperson wrote:
And I thought ARM had special magical gates...
fitten Ars Legatus Legionis et Subscriptor
LOL... I was thinking the same thing... I was planning an upgrade here in the next couple months and now I'm wondering if I should wait a few more
sevensor Wise, Aged Ars Veteran
This is not structurally very different from the gate structure commonly used in a NAND flash cell. (The fab I was working at a few years back made NAND flash.) And fin FETs have been around for well over a decade. What is really exciting and significant about this announcement is that Intel has overcome the process integration barriers to mass-producing fin FETs at 22nm. What Intel's pretty micrographs don't show is all of the sacrificial layers that had to be built up and etched away to produce tall skinny lines of silicon. These are a bear to work with, and the performance of their transistors depends on extremely fine process control, not just of the lateral dimension, but also of the sidewall angle and the rounding at the corners.
109 posts | registered Apr 3, 2001
koolraap Ars Tribunus Militum
Great article, and the comments are just as good, thank you fellow Ars Technians.
And no need to say Bananas. It's great.
BadAndy Ars Legatus Legionis
Sigh ... would be really nice if this article discussed ANY of the very long R&D history on FinFETs and "tri-gates" and discussed at least some of the tradeoffs (particularly wrt SOI and strained-gate technologies ... and some of this is "mix-n-match" and some of it isn't.
Basically everybody in the game has known that "conventional" gate geometries run out of play at fine dimensions and that one or another harder-to-fab geometry would be forced at some node -- issue is when to transition and to what, and there is a long history of research, by others than Intel.
Is it too much to ask that Ars coverage of vendor's press-releases AT LEAST do some basic "due diligence" about history and claims of invention/innovation ... how hard can it be to at least check the wikipedia ????
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Multigate_device
The term FinFET was coined by University of California, Berkeley researchers (Profs. Chenming Hu, Tsu-Jae King-Liu and Jeffrey Bokor) to describe a nonplanar, double-gate transistor built on an SOI substrate,[5] based on the earlier DELTA (single-gate) transistor design.[6] The distinguishing characteristic of the FinFET is that the conducting channel is wrapped by a thin silicon "fin", which forms the gate of the device. The thickness of the fin (measured in the direction from source to drain) determines the effective channel length of the device.
In current usage the term FinFET has a less precise definition. Among microprocessor manufacturers, AMD, IBM, and Motorola describe their double-gate development efforts as FinFET development whereas Intel avoids using the term to describe their closely related tri-gate [1] architecture. In the technical literature, FinFET is used somewhat generically to describe any fin-based, multigate transistor architecture regardless of number of gates.
A 25-nm transistor operating on just 0.7 Volt was demonstrated in December 2002 by Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company. The "Omega FinFET" design, named after the similarity between the Greek letter "Omega" and the shape in which the gate wraps around the source/drain structure, has a gate delay of just 0.39 picosecond (ps) for the N-type transistor and 0.88 ps for the P-type.
13991 posts | registered May 7, 2001
reflex-croft Ars Tribunus Angusticlavius et Subscriptor
ElectricBlue wrote:
Not much. Half of the power consumption on a phone is the screen. A significant amount of the remaining is the antenna/wireless setup. The CPU is a relatively tiny portion of total power consumption. These gains are good, but they are not going to result in any major increases in battery life.
6789 posts | registered Jun 29, 2001
heftysmurf wrote:
I don't think you're dumb. I can't stand the way University lecturers like to explain stuff with pages upon pages on equations that just fry your brain looking at them - it's as if they think they're trying to show off their superior intelligence or something by making their explanations way more complex than they need be.
Students would learn and remember much more from well made graphs, diagrams and animations (unfortunately, apart form graphs, these usually are not great in Unis). After all, when you go to work in industry the basic fundamental stuff is usually what you will remember and need (all that mad mathematical stuff can be looked up in a book later or calculated by computers :D).
Can anyone show me a nice diagram of these "tri-gate" transistors that also shows the various substrate doping in three dimensions, and the step-by-step masks that would be needed?
aardarf Ars Scholae Palatinae
BUT WILL IT RURN CRYSORS?!?!1?1!
kleinma Ars Tribunus Militum
This just in. Intel switches from straight cut to waffle fries to make their transisters...
Hardly news... let me know when they have seasoned curly fry transisters
reflex-croft wrote:
Maybe for active power you wouldn't save as much (you would still definitely make savings), but for me the standby time is much more important - this is where we should see some decent gains.
Uncompetative Ars Scholae Palatinae
Wake me up when someone has made an ARM version.
/goes back to sleep
Andrei Stefanuca Smack-Fu Master, in training
Dear computer enthusiasts and technology aficionados, can I please propose something that might entice your curiosity a little? It's actually a new kind of computing all together, I call it para-processing. It could represent the building block for the 6th generation of computers (if we count the fail of the 5th as well) and I would like to hear your honest opinion on it.
Right now, a bit works as a switch, 0 or 1. But in nature, most things are not on/off states because perception itself is a continuous flux of infinitesimally precise consecutive events, sort of like still frames. Theoretically, and practically, everything is infinitesimally divisible, even electric current. In this scenario, the switch itself (current transistor technology) seems like an abstracted aberration, a grotesque 2-state scenario and a bipolar reduction for an infinitely scalable and perceivable state of being. I propose the following: let's make the transistor lifelike. Instead of a transistor with a number of finite states, out of which we use only the state of on or off, we can do the following:
1. make the switch (let's call it a cycle transistor) able to control the current passing through it with infinitesimal detail, by means of adjusting intensity, power, voltage or even resistance adjustments (by means of variation in the temperature of the overall structure) or other adjustments according to the used paradigm (electric current, light, magnetism);
2. make the cycle bit able to detect, track and/or modify both the current in and the current out;
3. make the cycle bit able to invert the current passing through it by inverting polarity;
4. make the cycle bit able to turn itself on and off.
You're probably asking yourself what am I talking about right now. The 4 points above allow you not to transmit only 0 and 1, they allow you to transmit every number in [-1;+1] as well as any number between [-infinity;+infinity] if and only if we find a way to interpret NOT THE STATE of the cycle transistor BUT THE PROPERTIES OF THE CURRENT THAT IT WOULD BE BOTH KEEPING IN A LOOP, MEASURING, USING AND MODIFYING INFINITESIMALLY.
How would that work?
point 4 would render value 0;
point 3 would switch from micro-infinity [-1;+1] to macro-infinity [-infinity;+infinity]
point 2 would control the sign, plus or minus;
point 1 would control the infinitesimal step needed to reproduce any number in the universe.
The trick is not to get fixed on the archaic idea that the on/of state is the one that matters.
In the reasoning described above, one could have a way to represent all the numbers in the universe IN HARDWARE. The benefits in speed are obvious, but that's not what interests me. Imagine the benefits IN DETAIL. This, my friends would be a vertical evolution of computing technology, opposed to all the superficial speed related step by step research done today. Miniaturization technology allows us to actually build something like that, and imagine not one, but a network of a couple of billion of cyclic transistors that let energy flow through them unobtrusively and in any direction, by means of an algorithm similar to either what the net uses to switch packets, or to how the human mind works.
If it's not possible to emulate and control the current infinitesimally, one could come up with an algorithm that uses the vigesimal counting system (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vigesimal) to split the current properties into 20 or N stages of measurement which it then uses to represent all possible numbers, in hardware detail. If current is not the tool of choice one could also use light for the reasoning above (optical computing) and adjust its intensity likewise and according to the steps above.
Regarding a possible 7th generation of computers, they'll most probably be biotic. Still, more research needs to be done. So, please think about it. I'm somewhat sure it would work.
57 posts | registered Feb 7, 2011
mrentropy5 Smack-Fu Master, in training
I didn't understand any of it but it looks like Intel has changed our French fries into waffle fries, and that can't be bad. Now, what happened to the curly fries?
88 posts | registered Aug 18, 2006
Bash Ars Praetorian
Andrei Stefanuca wrote:
Right now, a bit works as a switch, 0 or 1. But in nature, most things are not on/off states because perception itself is a continuous flux of infinitesimally precise consecutive events, sort of like still frames. Theoretically, and practically, everything is infinitesimally divisible, even electric current. In this scenario, the switch itself (current transistor technology) seems like an abstracted aberration, a grotesque 2-state scenario and a bipolar reduction for an infinitely scalable and perceivable state of being. I propose the following: let's make the transistor lifelike. Instead of a transistor with a number of finite states, out of which we use only the state of on or off, we can do the following
For most applications, analog computing (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Analog_computer) went out of style many decades ago.
514 posts | registered Nov 5, 2004
So you're essentially talking about building an analogue computer. The reason digital computers exist is because they reject NOISE and distortion.
I'd be more interested to see some sort of QAM modulation equivalent used at transistor level, where instead of each bit representing a 0 or 1 we would have say 64 different values that could be represented. I know that we sort-of have that already in MLC NAND cells etc., but I'm sure CMOS could be replaced with something like this as well (there's probably already some research out there on this).
Then there's the whole quantum computing thing, which is way over my head...
Dear computer enthusiasts and technology aficionados, can I please propose something that might entice your curiosity a little? It's actually a new kind of computing all together, I call it para-processing. It could represent the building block for the 6th generation of computers (if we count the fail of the 5th as well) and I would like to hear your honest opinion on it..
You just described the human brain, I think.
Assuming you're serious and not strung out on something illicit, the real issue is software. Actually it's not even that. It's (generally speaking) problem solving at an economical cost. Many problems are solved through software, which in turn uses hardware.
If you make Magic(tm) hardware, that's great, I'm sure it'll be useful immediately in some niche market regardless of the cost (hello Itanium, Lisp, Prolog, etc), but if it requires a complete top-to-bottom retooling of the problem solving stack, well... good luck selling that.
Not impossible, it just has to be very very compelling.
@Bash You missed the point completely. Think about the message, not necessarily the medium.
@paul234542624, my system would replace the bit (0,1) with a (-infinity, +infinity) imagine how fast you could add to big numbers. imagine the benefits to AI for example. p.s quantum computing is useless because it only gives probabilistic outcomes.
@koolraap, know any good financing sources?
Last edited by Andrei Stefanuca on Thu May 05, 2011 10:42 am
mrentropy5 wrote:
Your reading assignment for tonight:
http://arstechnica.com/business/news/20 ... t-21613628
Metaluna Ars Scholae Palatinae
Digital Dud wrote:
grimlog wrote:
AMD and IBM are both working on similar FinFET structures. The terms 'FinFET' and 'Trigate' are very loosely used for such finned transistor structures.
The industry will tremble when I reveal my patent for bipolar inter-layer leakage gates.
Nobody can beat BILL gates!
1221 posts | registered Nov 16, 2005
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???? asked in Entertainment & MusicComics & Animation · 6 months ago
Could cell become good like android 16, 17, 18?
no it's in his genes to be bad. unlike frieza and fat buu he lacks the abilty to change.
kid buu was uncontrollable and pure evil, they can probably do the same for cell too.
I believe Masako X, of DBZ Abridged fame, is running a series about this exact idea on YouTube.
Cell has been engineered to do exactly what he does, while 16 only seeks to defeat Goku and 17 / 18 basically have free will but are jerks. Cell cannot deviate from what he is designed to do.
Carlos6 months agoReport
True he has Frieza DNA in him
16 was always a "good android", since he's more of a "pacifist" type of guy that doesn't want to fight, because it could also destroys the environments.
Meanwhile, 17 & 18 acts like a couple of "shitty brats" that still on their puberty with their unstable emotions. So they could still be changed with the right guidance, which was happened during the series.
Unlike the 3 Androids, Cell is embodied with Dr. Gero's ambitions, which is to rule the world. So it's very unlikely that he would switch sides, since he's evil to the core. Even Goku didn't want to consider him for the Tournament of Power, since he knows that Cell can't be reasoned with.
He could wished it, but Cell's character is the same like Vegeta's, which is an arrogant + always underestimate their opponents.
So if Cell was resurrected as a good guy, either him or Vegeta will be relegated to a minor character, since both are very similar in terms personality.
I don't know. The last time I watched a series was Dragon Ball Z. Certainly, neither of them would beat Cell.
What are your top five anime?
Can you recommend any good mangas?
What do you think of Bob's Burgers?
Why does anyone cry at The Lion King?
It is my dream to make anime but I'm Australian?
Is Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes grounded from watching any more afternoon movies on television for the rest of his life?
Have you ever personally met Stan Lee? What was it like?
Does anyone know this hentai manga?
What does the joker 2019 make up look like?
i had a cosplay newsletter saying Hollywood is trying to ban nerdy boys from cosplay events like comic-con?
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China’s brutal detention regime revealed in leaked documents
November 17, 2019 Maddy Harris
Officials who resisted carrying out the campaign of mass detention were purged by Chen Quanguo, the hardline party boss installed to oversee the program in 2016. One local official who was worried about the impact of the crackdown was jailed after he released thousands of detainees.
According to the Times, the rare leak from inside the Chinese political elite was the result of an insider’s desire to “prevent party leaders, including Mr Xi, from escaping culpability for the mass detentions” of as many as a million Muslims.
Responding to the report, Senator Payne said it followed a “deeply disturbing” video released in September that appeared to show hundreds of blindfolded and shackled men being transported in Xinjiang.
“I have previously raised Australia’s strong concerns about reports of mass detentions of Uighurs in Xinjiang. These disturbing reports today reinforce Australia’s view and we reiterate those concerns,” she said.
“We have consistently called for China to cease the arbitrary detention of Uighurs and other groups. We have raised these concerns – and we will continue to raise them both bilaterally and in relevant international meetings.”
China escalated efforts to curb Muslim culture in Xinjiang following outbreaks of unrest and a string of terror attacks, peaking in 2014. The government has since banned certain religious practices and rolled out a vast network of indoctrination camps and advanced surveillance.
A key revelation is that Xi provided the impetus for the mass detention, seeing a need to harden the government’s approach beyond the policies of his predecessor, Hu Jintao. While Hu had targeted Uighur unrest, he had also emphasised the importance of economic empowerment. In calling for a “people’s war” in the Xinjiang, Xi argued that “ethnic separatism and terrorist violence have still been on the rise”.
Labor foreign affairs spokeswoman Penny Wong said the revelations contained in the leaks were “deeply disturbing” and called on China to respect human rights and end arbitrary detention.
“It is a deeply disturbing report because of what it says in relation to arbitrary detention and restrictions on freedom of movement. We would urge China to respond to this report transparently and swiftly,” she said, predicting there would be a global backlash.
Greens leader Richard Di Natale branded the revelations “horrifying” and said Australia needed to play an active diplomatic role in putting maximum pressure on China.
“This horrifying leak removes any chance for doubt that China is conducting cultural genocide against the Uighur people. More than a million people in Xinjiang have been rounded up and deprived of freedom and basic human rights.
“The fact this has been leaked from the notoriously secretive Chinese Communist Party shows that there is internal angst about the intensifying cruelty to Uighur people and political dissidents.”
Nurmuhammad Majid, a Uighur community leader based in Adelaide, said the leaked documents revealed the “wild, inhuman and long-term” repression of Uighurs, with a systematic and well-resourced effort to wipe out minority culture and religion.
“This leaked government document could be a final signal to humanity before their voice is totally silenced. Uighurs need help, an immediate action to save them,” he said.
Maya Wang, a senior China researcher with Human Rights Watch, said the documents were consistent with previous reports about Xinjiang but added important details and insights, including that Xi laid the groundwork.
“The documents fly in the face of the Chinese government’s propaganda that Xinjiang’s political education camps are merely voluntary vocational training schools. They also betray the ruthlessness of the Xinjiang crackdown,” she said.
Fergus Hunter is an education and communications reporter for The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age.
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Aftermarket »
Shuttl
ride hailing
SMBC Trust Bank
Shuttl raises $18M from Toyota & Japan's SMBC Trust Bank
The investment in Shuttl comes at a time when large global automakers are showing a lot of interest in India’s fast-growing mobility spaceETtech | October 30, 2019, 15:00 IST
Amazon-backed intracity bus aggregator Shuttl has raised a little over $18 million (Rs 128 crore) from a unit of the Toyota Group and Japan’s SMBC Trust Bank as part of its ongoing Series C round of funding.
Regulatory filings showed Shuttl has received $6 million from the Toyota Tsusho Corp and the remaining $12 million from SMBC Trust Bank as a trustee of the Mirai Creation Fund II.
The Mirai Creation Fund II is backed by Toyota Motor, Sumitomo Mitsui Banking Corp (SMBC) and SPARX Group Co.
The post-money valuation of Shuttl is estimated at around $200 million, with Toyota Tsusho getting a 6% stake for its $6 million investment in the company. The investment indicates Toyota Motor’s growing interest in shared and electric mobility.
Shuttl is present in six metro cities and claims to operate 1,800 buses. The company has said that it had doubled its revenue to Rs 100 crore in fiscal 2019. However, Shuttl has faced some regulatory hurdles in cities like Bengaluru, where it was forced to shut operations as it was seen as a competition to the state-run bus service.
Shuttl enters Chennai; eyes to double service next year
Local Motors to test Olli autonomous shuttles in California
Times Internet Ltd, which is a part of the BCCL Group that also publishes this newspaper, holds a 6.96% stake in Shuttl. Amazon’s holding in the company stands at 4.45% post the latest investment.
Business intelligence platform Paper.vc has reported the overall size of the ongoing Series C round at an estimated $42 million.
The investment in Shuttl comes at a time when large global automakers are showing a lot of interest in India’s fast-growing mobility space. While Hyundai Motor has invested in homegrown-ride hailing company Ola, Indian automaker Mahindra & Mahindra has picked up a 55% stake in Meru.
Other notable investments in India’s mobility space include Ford Motor’s investment in car rental platform Zoomcar and Hero MotoCorp’s investment in electric vehicle startup Ather, which recently raised $51 million in a funding led by Flipkart founder Sachin Bansal.
Tags : Aftermarket, Shuttl, toyota, ride hailing, SMBC Trust Bank, Funding
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Two Wheelers »
Motorcycles »
MSIL
Kenichi Ayukawa
Suzuki Motor’s expansion plans on schedule
Even as the automobile industry is staring at a major slowdown, with passenger vehicle sales taking a major hit in the first quarter of financial year 2019-20, the expansion plans of Suzuki Motor Gujarat (SMG) are on schedule.Niyati Parikh | TNN | September 01, 2019, 10:01 IST
Two assembly lines with a total manufacturing capacity of 5 lakh units per annum are currently operational at an estimated 80% capacity utilization at the SMG plant.
Ahmedabad: Even as the automobile industry is staring at a major slowdown, with passenger vehicle sales taking a major hit in the first quarter of financial year 2019-20, the expansion plans of Suzuki Motor Gujarat (SMG) are on schedule according to company officials.
Kenichi Ayukawa, the managing director (MD) and chief executive officer (CEO) of Maruti Suzuki India Ltd (MSIL), said that the company’s Hansalpur plant will attain full annual capacity of 7.5 lakh units by 2020. SMG is the 100% subsidiary of Suzuki Motor Corporation (SMC), which is also the parent company of MSIL.
“Slowdown is a temporary phenomenon but we have to prepare our production capacity in Gujarat. The demand for product manufactured in Gujarat has witnessed a little bit of slowdown but it is not severe. Besides, we plan to supply the product in our export markets as well and not just in India; and therefore, we have to manage our total production in Gujarat,” said Ayukawa, while interacting with the media on the sidelines of the business session of the two-day India-Japan Business and Tourism Conclave 2019, organized at Ahmedabad Management Association (AMA) in Ahmedabad on Saturday.
Two assembly lines with a total manufacturing capacity of 5 lakh units per annum are currently operational at an estimated 80% capacity utilization at the SMG plant, said a senior company official. “We have to adjust this based on market demand. There is no point making cars and pushing them to dealers.”
The Baleno and Swift brands of MSIL’s passenger vehicle portfolio are currently manufactured at the SMG plant. As of 2018, 10% of the cars manufactured at the plant are exported whereas 90% are supplied in the domestic market. “We plan to increase the export volume by the second half of next year, once the third assembly line is operational at the plant,” said Ayukawa.
Tags : Two Wheelers, Motorcycles, Suzuki Baleno, suzuki, slowdown, MSIL, Kenichi Ayukawa, expansion
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Experienced advocates & professional representation
If you are a young person or are responsible for a young person due to appear before a youth court in any part of the country, in relation to any prosecution, our team of experienced lawyers are available to represent you at the first hearing and prepare your matter for trial if appropriate.
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Our lawyers will work with you to the conclusion of your case. We will liaise with the Youth Offending Team, health professionals, social services and other professionals if required. Our aim is to keep the Young Person and those concerned about their welfare fully informed throughout the court process and work towards securing the best possible outcome.
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Colona, IL
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Black Hawk State Historic Site
Singing Bird Nature Center, a smaller lodge building, is used for programs sponsored by the Citizens to Preserve Black Hawk Park Foundation. The si...
Carl Sandburg Historic Site
313 East Third Street
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Celebration River Cruises is a family owned and operated business. The Schadler family is involved in every aspect of the boat’s day to day o...
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The Discovery Depot museum provides an engaging atmosphere in which children and families explore, learn, and have fun together. Since 1999, we hav...
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Annual festival featuring homemade and commercially made chocolate treats. It is an endless buffet of tortes, cakes, pies, cookies, candies, bevera...
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History: The Galesburg Railroad Museum is a not for profit corporation established to promote the research, exploration and discovery of the histo...
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About Us:Working the land. It's what we've been doing at John Deere for more than 175 years. And there's no better way to experience it than a trip...
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This 50+ acre community park includes a horse show arena, lighted softball field, multi purpose recreational trail, an 18-hole disc golf course, tw...
Niabi Zoological Society
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Mission Statement The mission of the Niabi Zoological Society is to constantly improve the educational value of the Zoo through continuous expans...
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Swanton, NE
Best Events Near You in Swanton, Nebraska
Homestead National Monument of America Film Festival
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Ak-Sar-Ben Aquarium
21502 West Highway 31
The mission of the Nebraska Game and Parks Commission is stewardship of the state's fish, wildlife, park, and outdoor recreation resources in the b...
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6 camping sites with electrical hookups Facilities - Baseball and football fields, horse arena, skate park, playground equipment, picnic areas, pa...
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About Us: Since 1975 Community Players has striven to deliver the highest quality theatre to Beatrice and Southeast Nebraska. Our goal is to promot...
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The Double Nickel Campground is a quiet and relaxing campground located in Eastern Nebraska. Our campground offers: Long Pull Thrus (some up to...
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About Us: Welcome to the Lied Center for Performing Arts web site. The Lied Center’s mission is to educate, inspire and entertain the people...
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10,000 years of history! Many people and cultures have made Nebraska their home. Come see fascinating artifacts and hear amazing stories from our ...
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Starting as a small company in South Lake Tahoe, California in 1992, StrongVPN has come a long way in terms of quality and reliability. StrongVPN first introduced its VPN services in 2005. Since then, it has expanded its services to 660 servers across 26countries and 46 cities.
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Reliability & Speed Tests
According to their website, StrongVPN has a “No Speed Limit” policy, which says a lot about the speed of its VPN services. StrongVPN state on their website that their 660+ servers guarantee unlimited options for browsing online content anonymously at the fastest connection speeds. From customer reviews we’ve read, and our initial testing, the speed is fast and the connection is mostly uninterrupted and stable.
StrongVPN offers two different VPN plans. The packages are divided into a yearly plan and a monthly plan. Both of these plans include a 30-day money-back guarantee; the only difference is that the yearly plan costs less per month. Users are allowed to choose their preferred method of payment, whether it is via PayPal, Visa, Credit/Debit cards, ApplePay, American Express, or Alipay. You can choose the following VPN plans:
$10 per month: Users are billed $10 each month
$5.83 per month for 1 year: Users are billed $69.99 once a year
The difference between these two plans lies in the price, not in the features. Users will have access to the same features, but the price for the yearly plan is much more affordable compared to the one-month subscription. Nevertheless, choosing either one of them guarantees top-quality service. If you want to get a good deal, the yearly plan is highly recommended. StrongVPN also includes a “free trial” period of 30-days during which all features are unlocked. Unlike many providers that offer a limited version of their product during the free trial period, StrongVPN allows users to enjoy full access to all of its features.
StrongVPN is one of the best VPN service providers for a reason. To ensure the company maintains its place at the top, StrongVPN is always up-to-date with the current technological discoveries and provides impressive features, such as:
“Best Location Available” server selection feature
“Internet Kill-Switch” feature
Zero logging policy
No speed-limit
59,500+ VPN IPs
Connects to L2TP, SSTP, OpenVPN, IPSec, and IKEv2 protocols
Apps for iOS, Android, MacOS, Windows, Linux, and more.
These are just some of the features that make StrongVPN a big contender in the VPN industry. If you know your way around VPNs, you will definitely appreciate some of these features as they’re not common.
This is probably one of the most impressive things about StrongVPN. StrongVPN has a virtual network that spans over 26 countries, reaching 46 cities. While this isn’t the biggest network we’ve seen, it does provide users with a lot of options. StrongVPN continually expands its services, with over 660 servers offering 59,500 IP addresses at the time of this review.
They have servers in important countries for location unblocking, like:
They have also managed to promote their services in countries where VPNs are more or less restricted, like Turkey, Israel, and South Korea.
StrongVPN really has strong customer support, which is not something that we can say for most VPN providers. When it comes to ranking VPN service providers, customer support is a sensitive area which says a lot about the dedication of the provider to keep their users satisfied. The support that StrongVPN offers can be divided into these sections:
Setup guides: This extensive section consists of thorough guides, mostly revolving around set-up and manual instructions for different operating systems like Windows, MacOS, Linux, Android, and iOS.
Troubleshooting: Many “How To” articles that address common issues that users may have are found here. If you’re having technical difficulties with StrongVPN’s client software, try checking out the troubleshooting section before contacting support.
FAQ: The large FAQ section consists of relevant subsections, like how to get started with StrongVPN, general information, billing questions, and about the company.
Live chat: The live chat support is highly responsive, and is available 24/7.
Email: You can reach StrongVPN’s support team by submitting an email request after filling out a formal page.
Phone support: The support team can be called at +1-800-755-8001 during their operating hours of 9 AM - 5 PM CT, from Monday to Friday.
Furthermore, StrongVPN’s customer support care is really up to the challenge. Users can choose to contact the support team through live chat or email. The general rule of thumb is that you submit thorough and complex questions via email, while leaving simpler questions for the live chat support. Our experience with the customer support team also deserves a positive review. Their team sent a response almost immediately during testing, and was there for many hours throughout the day.
It’s really a rarity to include customer support service under “Pros” in a review, but StrongVPN really impressed us in this area.
StrongVPN takes the privacy and security of its users very seriously. To keep the relationship with its clients as transparent as possible, StrongVPN has the following policies that concern all users:
Privacy policy: According to its website, the only personal information that StrongVPN collects is the personal data used for setting up accounts. This includes email addresses and payment information. It claims not to sell any information to third parties. They use cookies to enhance the functionality of its website, which can be disabled at any time.
Refund policy: StrongVPNs refund policy is unconditional, and the company claims to return full payments to all unsatisfied users who submitted refund requests within 30 days from the initial purchase. StrongVPN will also refund subscriptions made via the iTunes/App Store. Refund requests made more than 30 days after the purchase date will not be admitted. Refunds typically take 24 to 48 hours to be processed.
Logging policy: StrongVPN is a zero-logging VPN service. The company vouches not to track, record, or store your data while you’re using its VPN services. It only collects data for creating new accounts, collecting payments, communicating with current subscribers, offering troubleshooting, or customer support.
Protection against hackers, but not completely private: StrongVPN keeps you anonymous and secure whenever you’re online, but that doesn’t mean you’ll be completely private from every possible form of tracking.
StrongVPN does log time, date, and location data to track abuses that can be listed as spam. When issued a subpoena or court order, StrongVPN states that it will cooperate with law enforcement to track down hackers and fraudsters who use the company’s services.
Although it’s not the case with most providers, we can say with absolute certainty that StrongVPN’s customer protection policies pass with flying colors. The summary on its website perfectly describes how StrongVPN treats its users when it comes to respecting privacy and security.
Technical Assessment
While the company may not have the broadest and most impressive VPN network in the world, it has over 660 servers in some of the most popular countries in the world. StrongVPN’s software is more or less adequate, but at times, switching between servers can be clunky.
The pricing can be considered at the industry average, and you receive a reliable VPN service in return. If you’re searching for a long-term VPN plan, the yearly package is affordable and recommended.
StrongVPN’s customer support service is above-average and really impressed us. Its on-page content sections feature a lot of useful information, including guides, FAQs, and how-to articles. The support team can be reached via email, phone, or live chat. Our experience with the support team was surprisingly positive; during our live chat, the agents responded promptly and with a friendly, informative attitude.
The company has solid customer protection policies, with its “Zero-Logging” policy particularly standing out. All in all, we recommend StrongVPN for anyone who wants to do browsing, torrenting and P2P, video and music streaming (including Netflix), or geo-unblocking.
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User Reviews of Strong VPN
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Tag Archives: Glossolalia
Gift of Tongues – Earthly languages or Heavenly?
In the Pentecostal Movement which has spread throughout the world, Preachers teach that the evidence of the baptism of the Holy Spirit to be the ability to speak in tongues. But what are tongues? Are they earthly languages spoken by a person alien to that language or an unrecognizable language which is not of this earth? Most of the “Tongues” spoken in the Pentecostal Churches are thought to be a Heavenly language which cannot be understood by anyone but people who have the gift of interpretation. But what does the Bible have to say about the matter? Do we have sufficient evidence to conclude that the Gift of Tongues is a Heavenly Language? This will be our task today.
This study is broken in to the following sections:
Section I – The History of the Pentecostal Movement
Section II – “Tongues” in the New Testament Writings
Section III – Gift of Tongues in Acts 2 – Earthly Language or Heavenly?
Section IV – Gift of Tongues in 1Cor Chapter 12 – Earthly Language or Heavenly?
Section V – Kinds/Diversities(G1085-Genos) of Tongues(G1100-Glossa)
Section VI – Gift of Tongues in 1Cor Chapter 13 – Earthly Language or Heavenly?
Section VII – Gift of Tongues in 1Cor Chapter 14 – Earthly Language or Heavenly?
A main part of modern Christianity can be identified as the “Charismatic Movement” which puts special emphasis on “Gifts” (Charisma in Greek) and was a off-shoot of the “Pentecostal Movement” which began in the early 1900s with the Azusa Street Revival in Los Angeles, helmed by William J Seymour. Seymour was a student of Charles F Parham, the American preacher regarded as the first to associate “Glossolalia” (Speaking in Tongues) as the evidence of the Baptism of the Holy Spirit. Even though many other sects in Christianity had previously approved “Speaking in Tongues”, the Azusa Street Revival would be the start of modern Pentecostalism as we know it.
There are four Greek Words used in connection with our study. The first “Dialektos” stands for a language, while “Glossa” stands for the tongue. The third “Heteroglossos” is a variation of the second and means other tongue, while the fourth “Apophtheggomai” stands for “Speaking clearly”.
A. G1258 – διάλεκτος – dialektos – From G1256; a (mode of) discourse, that is, “dialect”: – language, tongue. [Thayer Definition: 1) conversation, speech, discourse, language 2) the tongue or language peculiar to any people] – Only seen in 6 verses
Act 1:19 And it was known unto all the dwellers at Jerusalem; insomuch as that field is called in their proper tongue(Dialektos-G1258), Aceldama, that is to say, The field of blood.
Act 2:6 Now when this was noised abroad, the multitude came together, and were confounded, because that every man heard them speak in his own language(Dialektos-G1258).
Act 2:8 And how hear we every man in our own tongue(Dialektos-G1258), wherein we were born?
Act 21:40 And when he had given him licence, Paul stood on the stairs, and beckoned with the hand unto the people. And when there was made a great silence, he spake unto them in the Hebrew tongue(Dialektos-G1258), saying,
Act 22:2 (And when they heard that he spake in the Hebrew tongue(Dialektos-G1258) to them, they kept the more silence: and he saith,)
Act 26:14 And when we were all fallen to the earth, I heard a voice speaking unto me, and saying in the Hebrew tongue(Dialektos-G1258), Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me? it is hard for thee to kick against the pricks.
B. G1100 – γλῶσσα – glōssa – Of uncertain affinity; the tongue; by implication a language (specifically one naturally unacquired): – tongue. [ Thayer Definition: 1) the tongue, a member of the body, an organ of speech 2) a tongue 1a) the language or dialect used by a particular people distinct from that of other nations] – Seen in 47 verses
Act 2:3 And there appeared unto them cloven tongues(Glossa-G1100) like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them.
Act 2:4 And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues(Glossa-G1100), as the Spirit gave them utterance.
Act 2:11 Cretes and Arabians, we do hear them speak in our tongues(Glossa-G1100) the wonderful works of God.
Act 10:46 For they heard them speak with tongues(Glossa-G1100), and magnify God. Then answered Peter,
Act 19:6 And when Paul had laid his hands upon them, the Holy Ghost came on them; and they spake with tongues(Glossa-G1100), and prophesied.
Jas 1:26 If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue(Glossa-G1100), but deceiveth his own heart, this man’s religion is vain.
Jas 3:5 Even so the tongue(Glossa-G1100) is a little member, and boasteth great things. Behold, how great a matter a little fire kindleth!
Jas 3:6 And the tongue(Glossa-G1100) is a fire, a world of iniquity: so is the tongue among our members, that it defileth the whole body, and setteth on fire the course of nature; and it is set on fire of hell.
Jas 3:8 But the tongue(Glossa-G1100) can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison.
1Pe 3:10 For he that will love life, and see good days, let him refrain his tongue(Glossa-G1100) from evil, and his lips that they speak no guile:
Rev 5:9 And they sung a new song, saying, Thou art worthy to take the book, and to open the seals thereof: for thou wast slain, and hast redeemed us to God by thy blood out of every kindred, and tongue(Glossa-G1100), and people, and nation;
Rev 7:9 After this I beheld, and, lo, a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues(Glossa-G1100), stood before the throne, and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands;
Rev 10:11 And he said unto me, Thou must prophesy again before many peoples, and nations, and tongues(Glossa-G1100), and kings.
Rev 11:9 And they of the people and kindreds and tongues(Glossa-G1100) and nations shall see their dead bodies three days and an half, and shall not suffer their dead bodies to be put in graves.
Rev 13:7 And it was given unto him to make war with the saints, and to overcome them: and power was given him over all kindreds, and tongues(Glossa-G1100), and nations.
Rev 14:6 And I saw another angel fly in the midst of heaven, having the everlasting gospel to preach unto them that dwell on the earth, and to every nation, and kindred, and tongue(Glossa-G1100), and people,
C. G2084 – ἑτερόγλωσσος – heteroglōssos – From G2087 and G1100; other tongued, that is, a foreigner: – man of other tongue. [Thayer Definition: 1) one who speaks a foreign language] – Only seen in 1 verse
1Co 14:21 In the law it is written, With men of other tongues(Heteroglossos – G2084) and other lips will I speak unto this people; and yet for all that will they not hear me, saith the Lord.
D. G669 – ἀποφθέγγομαι – apophtheggomai – From G575 and G5350; to enunciate plainly, that is, declare: – say, speak forth, utterance. [Thayer Definition: 1) to speak out, speak forth, pronounce 1a) not a word of everyday speech but one “belonging to dignified and elevated discourse”] – Only seen in 3 verses
Act 2:4 And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance(Apophtheggomai – G669).
Act 2:14 But Peter, standing up with the eleven, lifted up his voice, and said(Apophtheggomai – G669) unto them, Ye men of Judaea, and all ye that dwell at Jerusalem, be this known unto you, and hearken to my words:
Act 26:25 But he said, I am not mad, most noble Festus; but speak forth(Apophtheggomai – G669) the words of truth and soberness.
With the above definitions we can put together a clear picture of the “Pentecost” event in Acts 2 and the “tongues” spoken on that particular day.
Act 2:4 And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other(Heteros-G20187) tongues(Glossa-G1100), as the Spirit gave them utterance(Apophtheggomai – G669).
Looking at the above we can clearly see that the “Other Tongues” mentioned in Acts 2:4 are the “different languages” which the variety of people spoke mentioned in Acts 2:6,8&11. The tongues mentioned in the Pentecost event are none other than recognizable languages of different nations. In fact all of the other verses we have seen above are recognizable earthly languages and do not seem to be any unintelligible language.
The two other instances where we see “the gift of tongues” (Acts 10:46 & 19:6) are also intelligible languages as the listeners could understand that the speakers were “magnifying God” in Acts 10:46 which was clear evidence that these gentiles were touched by the Holy Spirit, just as we see in Acts 19:6. The “Gift of Tongues” was evidence that God was using the gifted in a supernatural way. The gifted speaks to God and magnifies Him in intelligible languages in these instances, so that the audience that hears it, is convinced that God is doing something supernatural through these believers.
Chapters 12 through 14 of the first letter to the Corinthians make much of the basis of the Spiritual Gifts including the subject of this study – The Gift of Tongues. Even though there may very well be many more, Paul lists 9 manifestations or gifts of the Spirit of God in 1Cor 12:7-10
1. Word of wisdom
2. Word of knowledge
4. Gifts of healing
5. Working of miracles
6. Prophecy
7. Discerning of spirits
8. Kinds of tongues
9. Interpretation of tongues
Then in 1Cor 12:28-30 Paul once again speaks of the ministries inside the congregation through manifestations of the Spirit
1. Apostles
2. Prophets
3. Teachers
4. Workers of Miracles
5. Believers with gifts of healing
6. Helpers
7. Leaders
8. Diversities of tongues
9. Interpreters of tongues
Taking a closer look at the Greek wording behind the Manifestation and Ministry Paul explains as “Kinds/Diversities of Tongues” in 1Cor 12:10&28, will help us to get a better idea of what exactly The Gift of Tongues is.
The word “Glossa” used in 1Cor 12:10 & 28 stand for the Tongue which is the physical member of the body as we have seen in Section II of this study. The Word “Genos” means “race/nation/ethnic group” as we see this word being a component of “Genocide”, which means “killing of a race/nation/ethnic group”. We also see the Greek Word Genos also translated in the same manner in the New Testament Writings, so that it means a “race, nation or ethnic group”.
G1085 – γένος – genos – From G1096; “kin” (abstractly or concretely, literally or figuratively, individually or collectively): – born, country (-man), diversity, generation, kind (-red), nation, offspring, stock. [Thayer Definition: 1) kindred 1a) offspring 1b) family 1c) stock, tribe, nation
1c1) i.e. nationality or descent from a particular people 1d) the aggregate of many individuals of the same nature, kind, sort]
Mar 7:26 The woman was a Greek, a Syrophenician by nation(Genos – G1085); and she besought him that he would cast forth the devil out of her daughter.
Act 4:36 And Joses, who by the apostles was surnamed Barnabas, (which is, being interpreted, The son of consolation,) a Levite, and of the country(Genos – G1085) of Cyprus,
Act 7:19 The same dealt subtilly with our kindred(Genos – G1085), and evil entreated our fathers, so that they cast out their young children, to the end they might not live.
Act 18:2 And found a certain Jew named Aquila, born(Genos – G1085) in Pontus, lately come from Italy, with his wife Priscilla; (because that Claudius had commanded all Jews to depart from Rome:) and came unto them.
Act 18:24 And a certain Jew named Apollos, born(Genos – G1085) at Alexandria, an eloquent man, and mighty in the scriptures, came to Ephesus.
2Co 11:26 In journeyings often, in perils of waters, in perils of robbers, in perils by mine own countrymen(Genos – G1085), in perils by the heathen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among false brethren;
Gal 1:14 And profited in the Jews’ religion above many my equals in mine own nation(Genos – G1085), being more exceedingly zealous of the traditions of my fathers.
Php 3:5 Circumcised the eighth day, of the stock(Genos – G1085) of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, an Hebrew of the Hebrews; as touching the law, a Pharisee;
With the evidence above we can clearly see that The “Kinds/Diversities of Tongues” pertains to physical languages of races, nations or ethnic groups, and could be better explained to be “Tongues of Diverse nations, races and ethnic groups”. This in turn will make “Interpretation of Tongues” in to the Interpretation of Languages of diverse nations.
In Chapter 13 of the first letter to the Corinthians, Paul shows the virtue of “Love” above all other Spiritual Gifts. Specifically in verse 1 of chapter 13, Paul makes an interesting argument which is used to say that the “Gift of Tongues” pertain to Heavenly Languages. But is this a viable explanation of the text? Let us review:
1Co 13:1-3 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
The above statement that Paul makes in favour of “Love” is an exaggerated claim which is not to be taken literally. In other words, Paul is not saying that he speaks in the tongues of Angels, or that he understands all mysteries and has all knowledge, or that he removes mountains with his faith, or that he gave all his belongings to the poor, or that he gave his body to be burned. This is clearly “hyperbole” so that he can make the point of “Love” superseding all. We see a similar instance of writing in Gal 1:8 when Paul writes “But though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you…” ; this does not mean that an angel from heaven has or will preach another gospel… but is a rhetorical way of helping explain the underlying theme. Therefore, this verse cannot be used as evidence of the “gift of Tongues” being a Heavenly/Angelic Language.
It is important to note that Paul is speaking in the 14th chapter of gifts used inside the Corinthian Congregation. As we have seen in section III, the whole purpose of the Gift of Tongues was the spread of the Gospel, as unbelievers from foreign nations would come to see people who do not know their tongue glorifying God in those foreign languages. Inside the congregation, there was no need for the usage of the Gift of Tongues, as no one needed to be convinced to believe in God’s power. With this in mind, let’s read the chapter;
1Co 14:1-6 Follow after charity, and desire spiritual gifts, but rather that ye may prophesy. For he that speaketh in an tongue speaketh not unto men, but unto God: for no man understandeth him; howbeit in the spirit he speaketh mysteries. But he that prophesieth speaketh unto men to edification, and exhortation, and comfort. He that speaketh in an tongue edifieth himself; but he that prophesieth edifieth the church. I would that ye all spake with tongues, but rather that ye prophesied: for greater is he that prophesieth than he that speaketh with tongues, except he interpret, that the church may receive edifying. Now, brethren, if I come unto you speaking with tongues, what shall I profit you, except I shall speak to you either by revelation, or by knowledge, or by prophesying, or by doctrine?
In the first portion of the 14th Chapter, Paul starts by comparing the Spiritual Gifts of Prophecy and Tongues. While 1Cor 14:2 is one of the main passages to promote the idea that “Tongues” are a heavenly language, further study using context helps us understand what Paul is trying to explain to the Corinthians. In this verse, Paul says that “Tongues” are used to speak to God and not man. This has already been substantiated in this study, as we have seen in Acts where people endowed with the gift using it to magnify God. Furthermore, Paul says that “Tongues” are used to speak mysteries and that no one can understand them. We must remember that Paul is speaking of the Corinthian congregation here. If the members of the congregation speaks in foreign tongues inside the congregation, no man would understand them, inclusive of the speaker. They would be speaking to God, but speaking mysteries when it comes to the congregation who cannot understand the language and thereby only edifying themselves. In comparison, the gift of Prophecy helps edify the church/congregation. As Paul explains further, “Tongues” would edify the church only if someone interprets what was said in the foreign language to begin with.
1Co 14:7-12 And even things without life giving sound, whether pipe or harp, except they give a distinction in the sounds, how shall it be known what is piped or harped? For if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle? So likewise ye, except ye utter by the tongue words easy to be understood, how shall it be known what is spoken? for ye shall speak into the air. There are, it may be, so many kinds of voices in the world, and none of them is without signification. Therefore if I know not the meaning of the voice, I shall be unto him that speaketh a barbarian, and he that speaketh shall be a barbarian unto me. Even so ye, forasmuch as ye are zealous of spiritual gifts, seek that ye may excel to the edifying of the church.
Paul writes that the people who speak with “Tongues” inside the congregation are speaking to the air, as no one understands them. He further explains that out of the many languages in the world none are without meaning. In other words every language can be interpreted, and if the language is not interpreted, the person speaking the foreign language will be counted as a “Barbarian” by the congregation. The word Barbarian (G915-Barbaros) means a foreigner and a non-Greek (Acts 28:2,4, Rom 1:14). So what Paul meant was that the person who speaks in the foreign tongue would be a foreigner to the rest of the congregation, and vice versa if the language is not interpreted. According to Paul, if someone is speaking in “Tongues” inside the Corinthian congregation they should aim to use it for the edification of the church.
1Co 14:13-19 Wherefore let him that speaketh in an tongue pray that he may interpret. For if I pray in an tongue, my spirit prayeth, but my understanding is unfruitful. What is it then? I will pray with the spirit, and I will pray with the understanding also: I will sing with the spirit, and I will sing with the understanding also. Else when thou shalt bless with the spirit, how shall he that occupieth the room of the unlearned say Amen at thy giving of thanks, seeing he understandeth not what thou sayest? For thou verily givest thanks well, but the other is not edified. I thank my God, I speak with tongues more than ye all: Yet in the church I had rather speak five words with my understanding, that I might teach others also, than ten thousand words in an tongue.
Because the speaker of “Tongues” should aim to edify the church with what he/she speaks, Paul advises the Corinthian congregation with the gift of tongues to pray that they can interpret what they say, as others should be able understand the uttered words and the gift should promote growth inside the congregation. Paul, who himself was endowed with the Gift of Tongues explains that “inside the congregation” he would prefer to say 5 intelligible words that teach others rather than speak a thousand which are unintelligible. Again, as we saw in chapter 13 verse 1, this is an exaggeration Paul uses to show what Corinthians should strive for.
1Co 14:20-25 Brethren, be not children in understanding: howbeit in malice be ye children, but in understanding be men. In the law it is written, With men of other tongues and other lips will I speak unto this people; and yet for all that will they not hear me, saith the Lord. Wherefore tongues are for a sign, not to them that believe, but to them that believe not: but prophesying serveth not for them that believe not, but for them which believe. If therefore the whole church be come together into one place, and all speak with tongues, and there come in those that are unlearned, or unbelievers, will they not say that ye are mad? But if all prophesy, and there come in one that believeth not, or one unlearned, he is convinced of all, he is judged of all: And thus are the secrets of his heart made manifest; and so falling down on his face he will worship God, and report that God is in you of a truth.
Paul explains that according to the words written by the Prophet Isaiah, The Gift of Tongues is a sign for unbelievers as we have already seen proven through the Book of Acts. It was not a sign for believers inside the congregation, which is not the purpose of the Gift. He writes that if the whole congregation speaks in foreign tongues, and a fellow Corinthian unbeliever comes into the congregation, they will think the whole church to be mad. And again he compares Prophecy as a more coveted gift which in such a case can bring the fellow Corinthian unbeliever towards God.
1Co 14:26-33 How is it then, brethren? when ye come together, every one of you hath a psalm, hath a doctrine, hath a tongue, hath a revelation, hath an interpretation. Let all things be done unto edifying. If any man speak in an tongue, let it be by two, or at the most by three, and that by course; and let one interpret. But if there be no interpreter, let him keep silence in the church; and let him speak to himself, and to God. Let the prophets speak two or three, and let the other judge. If any thing be revealed to another that sitteth by, let the first hold his peace. For ye may all prophesy one by one, that all may learn, and all may be comforted. And the spirits of the prophets are subject to the prophets. For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace, as in all churches of the saints.
Paul’s final advise to the congregation is that anything including “Tongues” should be done for the edification of the church. He lays out a system which is orderly by asking two or three to speak with interpretation provided or to keep quiet if no interpretation can be given. He explains that there should be no confusion inside the congregation, when delivering messages of Tongues or Prophecy.
1Co 14:34-40 Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; but they are commanded to be under obedience, as also saith the law. And if they will learn any thing, let them ask their husbands at home: for it is a shame for women to speak in the church. What? came the word of God out from you? or came it unto you only? If any man think himself to be a prophet, or spiritual, let him acknowledge that the things that I write unto you are the commandments of the Lord. But if any man be ignorant, let him be ignorant. Wherefore, brethren, covet to prophesy, and forbid not to speak with tongues. Let all things be done decently and in order.
In verse 34, Paul tackles another problem in the Corinthian Congregation which was some “Wives” superseding and ruling over their “Husbands” inside the congregation, leading to more confusion and derision. He ends his advise on the subject by asking the leaders not to forbid anyone from speaking in “Tongues” but for it to be done in an orderly manner and for the purpose of edification in the congregation.
The Gift of Tongues which has become one of the highlighted gifts in modern Christianity, especially in the Pentecostal & Charismatic movements, is thought of to be a Heavenly language through which the speaker speaks to God. The above study shows us that “The Gift of Tongues” was given as a sign for foreigners to see the power of God. The Greek wording used in regard with this Gift, all point towards intelligible languages and even the Pentecost event in Acts 2 show us that the Gift the disciples received was also the ability to speak intelligible foreign languages. 1Corinthians 12-14 which makes much of the basis of the doctrine of Tongues, also point us towards “Tongues of Diverse nations, races and ethnic groups”. 1Cor 13:1 is a use of hyperbole by Paul to show that Love supersedes such Gifts. 1Cor 14:2 is Paul’s attempt to show that there is no use of a foreign tongue spoken inside the congregation especially without an interpretation, as the point of this gift is to bring foreign believers towards God. People inside the congregation who believe in God are not edified through such a gift especially if they do not hear an interpretation. In this way the speaker utters a mystery that he himself does not understand, nor does the congregation; being spoken to God through the Spirit. Paul further explains in the rest of the chapter that there are no languages in the world which are unintelligible, and that a person speaking in a foreign tongue would become like a foreigner to the others who listen in the congregation. He advises the Corinthians not to forbid anyone from speaking in Tongues, but to use the gift for edification through interpreting what is uttered, and to use the gift in an orderly manner.
This entry was posted in Main, Misunderstood Verses, Studies and tagged 1Cor13:1, 1Cor14:2, baptism of the spirit, beth biltin, Charismatic, Christianity, Congregation, Corinthians, dialect, earthly, edification, ethnic group, foreign, gifts, Glossolalia, Greek, heavenly, Holy Spirit, intelligible, language, nation, Pentecost, Pentecostal, race, sign, spiritual gifts, Tongues, unbeliever on April 13, 2018 by rameshdesilva.
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Barranquilla Women Profile
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Traits and Values of Barranquilla Women
Discover the traits and values that make Barranquilla women stand out from the rest.
With Colombia having one of the lowest divorce rates in the world, women from this Latin American country have therefore set a standard for being one of the most ideal partners to settle down with. This simply entails that to the people of Colombia, marriage is very sacred and not just something they would throw away and find another person to fall in love with.
Colombianas from the city of Barranquilla are particularly among the women who continue to catch the attention of men from around the world. They possess not only beauty and physique but also the characteristics of being suitable companions that any man would want to spend the rest of their lives with.
To summarize, here are some of the traits and values of Barranquilla women that make them desirable women to marry:
They are devoted individuals.
What makes Barranquilla brides among the most sought-after is their genuine desire to devote themselves to the people they truly care about. Family and loved ones are never neglected by these women, most especially their beloved husbands. They stay committed to the ones they love and never take one’s loyalty for granted. Hence, you can trust that they are also faithful and trustworthy partners that you can always count on.
Family is always prioritized.
Being family-oriented for as long as time can tell, you will be amazed at how dedicated Barranquilla women are to their family. Even as they venture out in looking for love so that they too may raise a family of their own, they still involve their existing family in their lives and in any major decisions that they’re bound to make.
Their compassion is what drives them.
Having a warm and affectionate personality, a Barranquilla lady will never fail at loving you until the very end. The fact that family is always first with these women, it has thus strengthened the good-natured traits that they’re known to have. Knowing that Barranquilla women are undeniably devoted to their own family, you can expect that they will be as devoted to the person they are destined to marry someday.
They are faithful partners that you can rely on.
When a Barranquilla woman is married, she will cherish all the love and time she is to share with her husband. As you experience dating a Latina in Colombia, you’ll realize how marriage is so important to women. They look forward to spending the rest of time with their loving husband and will keep on dedicating themselves to nurturing the love they share, as they live on to bring out the best in each other.
Reasons to Pursue Barranquilla Women
There are so many reasons why men wish to pursue dating and even marrying beautiful Barranquilla singles. It’s been made aware internationally that when Latinas are in it for love, they’re in it for life. Men who yearn to have that kind of relationship have therefore considered dating in Barranquilla to personally experience what they’ve been missing.
Without a doubt, Barranquilla women are very loyal to the ones they love. They don’t take the idea of marriage for granted. The reason alone of wanting to have and raise their own family is enough for you to believe that they are sincere when it comes to love. Once they date someone, they are already seeking for qualities that would potentially make a man a suitable husband.
To have a long-term relationship is among the many things the women of Barranquilla want to pursue. With that, they can determine if the man they’re with is a well-suited partner to love and cherish life with and, eventually, to have beautiful children with.
If you wholeheartedly believe that you’re ready to fall in love with the hope that the relationship could lead to a happy marriage in the future, then there is no reason that you shouldn’t pursue a lovely woman from Barranquilla, Colombia.
What Sets Them Apart from the Rest
Fall in love with the beauty and qualities of Barranquilla women!
Traveling to Barranquilla is one of the surest ways that will open your heart to the charming and vibrant culture that the city has to offer. But the women are a whole different package that will take you on an exciting journey as you experience love and companionship as if for the first time in your life.
Nowadays it’s difficult to find someone who wants to be with you the same way you want to be with them, someone who basically completes you down to your very core. That said, Barranquilla women have consequently put aside high standards when it comes to finding a suitable man to marry.
Factors such as physical looks, social statuses, and even age are not as important as being able to establish a real connection with someone. There aren’t as much demanding qualities for those who wish to marry young Barranquilla women. So long as you are committed, faithful, and loving, then physical factors will definitely not stand in the way of you and your aspiration to fall in love and marry a beautiful and inspiring Barranquilla woman.
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7th Delhi Capitals School Cup Champions
Over the years Indian Premier League Delhi franchise, the Delhi Capitals (erstwhile Delhi Daredevils) has organized the School Cup – a tournament for U-17 students from schools of the Delhi NCR.
Winners and outstanding performers stand a chance to share the nets with players from the Delhi capitals team during the IPL season 13, and even an opportunity to win a scholarship with the Delhi Capitals Academy.
Yet another spectacular performance by the cricketers representing our school in the 7th DC cup by winning it for the second time and becoming the only school to win this title twice.
Bal Bhavan had its final against Salwan School, wherein toss was won by Bal Bhavan who decided to bat first. It was a slow start and we were losing wickets at regular intervals, but thanks to Aditya Chaudhary who scored 70 runs and stood at the crease from start to the end. The target by our team was set at 140 and the opponents were swiped all out at 62 with the help of Vanshaj Sharma and Ishan Sharma who took 3 and 2 wickets respectively. The man of the match was given to Aditya Chaudhary for hitting 70 runs and Man of the series was claimed by Arpit Rana who shined bright like a diamond by scoring two double centuries and two massive centuries throughout the tournament.
The school is immensely proud for these young and talented players who are promising and spirited throughout their matches. And also thanks the Delhi Capitals for organizing this tournament for the betterment of these blessed and enriched players.
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Modern Warfare® Beta Boot Camp: The Multiplayer Maps [UPDATING: Last Update 9/15 @10:15AM PDT]
Ready to explore some of the locations comprising the Multiplayer maps of the Beta? Join us as we reconnoiter some of the most impressive Multiplayer terrain ever seen in a Call of Duty® game!
by David Hodgson and James Mattone on September 15, 2019
Where will you be battling for supremacy this October 25 when Call of Duty: Modern Warfare launches? Though these don’t represent the full complement of maps scheduled for launch, here are some descriptions of the maps you’ll be playing during the Beta, including what to more closely inspect and look for as you learn the layouts of these locations.
Azhir Cave (Day and Night)
Set at a makeshift ammunition factory hidden in the mountains of Urzikstan, infil points are to the far northeast and southwest. A partially bombed-out mountain village sits along the southern slopes of the map, with rusting tanks, rubble, fluttering blue signal flags of torn material, and a couple of makeshift bridges make the going treacherous. Structures feature small interiors, window frames, missing wall sections and dilapidated rooftops. Other buildings feature ladders up to flat rooftops, interiors with scattered belongings, assorted junk, various stacks of barrels, rusting equipment, rugs and dried linen, chickens gingerly pecking the dried earth, and other detritus and bric-a-brac.
The steps linking locations within the village were roughly-hewn even before they bore the brunt of enemy bombardment. On the southwestern cliff edge are the charred remains of a downed drone, close to an ancient tower with the top completely destroyed. A mortar sits on what was once an open space where soccer was played.
Just over a third of the northern part of the map is a cave system, where the acoustics are remarkably different, and the majority of the munitions and weapon-making equipment resides. Rough tunnels create a confusing maze with intermittent shakes dislodging rubble, rusting and improvised lighting dimly illuminates specks of dust and fluttering moths.
A raised central sleeping cavern provides little solace (but a number of destructible objects). There are three main entrances into and out of the caves, if you don’t include the bottom of the village well. At the eastern end of the caves is a rough-and-ready command post, parked trucks, and a high-caliber artillery turret hanging from a roof winch, ready to be bolted to a pickup. Enter Azhir Cave at night, and expect pitch-black combat, where NVGs are a necessity.
Hackney Yard (Day and Night)
A gritty, rubbish-filled industrial park on the wrong side of town, Hackney Yard is a roughly-rectangular map, with the River Thames to the north, inaccessible due to the perimeter security walls, though you can watch the boats go by in between combat takedowns. Large crates, and white plastic refuse bins (known as “skips” in the UK) provide climbing access points past a parked police vehicle, if you’re traversing the wet concrete forecourt outside the “Cromwell Continental” warehouse structure, which has a access doors to an oak-paneled interior, as well as an upstairs and rooftop area with evidence of Al Qatala activity.
Continue to the northwest corner, passing a double garage with a Union Jack and flag of St. George (England) painted on the doors, as well as graffiti daubed across much of the brick walls. The northwest corner is an insertion point by a parked van, in a puddle-filled courtyard close to the B&L warehouse, building 4. Head inside for a freight elevator and an upper level with more Al Qatala evidence to spot. From here, you can climb onto the corrugated metal roof of the Union chimney stack, or drop down and head along the western perimeter, passing a dodgy-looking caravan, alongside the garages and an off-limits crane yard.
The yellow shipping and receiving building 3 has an upstairs area offering good views across the main yard, where a large metal “Rothwynn” shipping container sits, close to a rusting traditional London telephone box, and a sprawling central yard, dotted with more containers, and dominated by the main B&L warehouse to the south. This structure is clad in corrugated metal on its western side, and brick everywhere else and has numerous entrances, two floors, and has a sizable interior where barrels, tires, the odd scurrying rat, graffiti-daubed walls, and pressurized containers sit in the damp.
Pass the unloading crane and the red and white lorry, to the eastern edge of the map. Partially underneath a tube train bridge (listen for the underground train clattering by) is a small, two-storey brick hut, and the blue-bricked Reeding’s Auto Parts shop, close to a burning vehicle, and large metal skip where the opposing force infiltrates this map.
Grazna Raid
This overgrown, derelict town 5 kilometers outside of Venskaya, Russia on the edge of farmland to the south, and a trainyard to the west, where one of the insertion points is located. Navigate the “Pemoht” garage, workshop courtyard, and Auto shop, with its faded signage and cracked yellow tilework. Optionally climbing a ladder to the roof, where you can clatter across the corrugated metal to observe activity at the nearby coffee shop. Across the main thoroughfare to the northwest, where a small industrial complex of dilapidated buildings sits on overgrown concrete and grass.
Signs of conflict are everywhere; not least the minefield along the northern perimeter, close to a snaking trench between a barn and a heavily-damaged, blue building. There’s a real feeling of ruination inside this structure, with its sagging sofas, rubble, and a rusting tank parked close by. Adjacent is the shelled remains of a yellow apartment building with a Barbers shop that’s seen better days, with a musty upper floor to explore.
Head into the middle of town to weave through a maze of badly-damaged structures with upper levels to traverse, and sight lines to learn. Taller structures make up the southern side of the map; a large imposing tenement block, with a ground level and small playground to inspect. Further to the southeast, a shelled-out laundromat offers some upper level views towards the center of town, and the main road. Further to the east, along the perimeter is a mechanic’s garage and numerous scattered tires.
Beginning where the helicopter dropped you off during the Infil Teaser, the southeast corner of this mid-sized map offers series of overgrown concrete pads and into a trainyard warehouse with some problematic stored materials inside. Prepare for combat across this coal mine and refinery: Views of strip-mining continues to the east, close to a cylindrical metal tower with train trucks filled with coal and cargo carriages to mantle across or climb over slowly rusting in the yard.
Cross the train tracks running north to south, leading along the northern edge of the map, and weaving through a smaller, single-track path with blazing furnaces, coal-laden carts, and ending with a large fan built into the northern side of the control area.
Over on the western side of the map is a large unloading area where one team infils. Explore the warehouse to discover a small crew quarters, lockers, and stacks of large crates and forklifts. Along the southern border of the map is undulating rocks, dirt and grass, as well as a side yard of shipping containers both open and closed.
Venture into the middle of the map to weave through the ground level of the towering mine shaft itself, adjacent to “chimney 34”, belching smoke and with an interior of pipes and a huge furnace, control, and valve chamber allowing access across the middle of the map. Or, venture into the restroom structure, adjacent to a pair of ramps enabling you to reach the trainyard itself, providing you’re ready to get your feet wet.
A roughly symmetrical training range warehouse with each player starting behind an L-shaped defensive structure made from sections of wood subfloor. Along the perimeter are two connected metal shipping containers (with “Shoot House” sprayed on each one), offering protection, but no clear line of sight. The center of the map is a half-constructed plywood stage with stairs at each end, crates to climb, and a concrete base with three small tunnels to traverse. The flag spawns in the center tunnel.
A roughly symmetrical, woodland training range with working metal targets beyond the perimeter, and a small grassy area from the spawn point. The eastern infil point is a firing range, while the western infil point is a bunker entrance. Each perimeter area leads to a rocky outcrop and a rusting vehicle to navigate or hide behind, and a raised, tarp-draped command post on the southern side. A stream bisects the map, running southwest to northeast, with an open red container where the flag spawns.
A desert training range, with both teams starting on a raised balcony (one with an overhang), each with two ramps; one at either perimeter edge. The side paths each have sand-filled buttress crates and tire stacks, and both widen slightly in the middle. The center of Stack is a raised platform, with plywood stairs (one at each corner), and an open container where the flag spawns.
Modern Warfare® Beta Boot Camp Landing Site [Last Update: 9/19 at 10:45AM PDT]
Incoming Intel: Pre-Launch Information and Content
Check back at the Activision Games Blog throughout the coming weeks for further intel. Check the Related Articles for further Call of Duty: Modern Warfare information.
Pre-orders at participating retailers are available now, or at CallofDuty.com.
For more information and the latest intel on Call of Duty®: Modern Warfare®, check out: www.callofduty.com, www.youtube.com/callofduty and follow @InfinityWard and @CallofDuty on Twitter and Instagram and Facebook.
For more information on Activision games, follow @Activision on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.
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Encrypt it or lose it: how encrypted SNI works
Alessandro Ghedini
Today we announced support for encrypted SNI, an extension to the TLS 1.3 protocol that improves privacy of Internet users by preventing on-path observers, including ISPs, coffee shop owners and firewalls, from intercepting the TLS Server Name Indication (SNI) extension and using it to determine which websites users are visiting.
Encrypted SNI, together with other Internet security features already offered by Cloudflare for free, will make it harder to censor content and track users on the Internet. Read on to learn how it works.
SNWhy?
The TLS Server Name Indication (SNI) extension, originally standardized back in 2003, lets servers host multiple TLS-enabled websites on the same set of IP addresses, by requiring clients to specify which site they want to connect to during the initial TLS handshake. Without SNI the server wouldn’t know, for example, which certificate to serve to the client, or which configuration to apply to the connection.
The client adds the SNI extension containing the hostname of the site it’s connecting to to the ClientHello message. It sends the ClientHello to the server during the TLS handshake. Unfortunately the ClientHello message is sent unencrypted, due to the fact that client and server don’t share an encryption key at that point.
TLS 1.3 with Unencrypted SNI
This means that an on-path observer (say, an ISP, coffee shop owner, or a firewall) can intercept the plaintext ClientHello message, and determine which website the client is trying to connect to. That allows the observer to track which sites a user is visiting.
But with SNI encryption the client encrypts the SNI even though the rest of the ClientHello is sent in plaintext.
TLS 1.3 with Encrypted SNI
So how come the original SNI couldn’t be encrypted before, but now it can? Where does the encryption key come from if client and server haven’t negotiated one yet?
If the chicken must come before the egg, where do you put the chicken?
As with many other Internet features the answer is simply “DNS”.
The server publishes a public key on a well-known DNS record, which can be fetched by the client before connecting (as it already does for A, AAAA and other records). The client then replaces the SNI extension in the ClientHello with an “encrypted SNI” extension, which is none other than the original SNI extension, but encrypted using a symmetric encryption key derived using the server’s public key, as described below. The server, which owns the private key and can derive the symmetric encryption key as well, can then decrypt the extension and therefore terminate the connection (or forward it to a backend server). Since only the client, and the server it’s connecting to, can derive the encryption key, the encrypted SNI cannot be decrypted and accessed by third parties.
It’s important to note that this is an extension to TLS version 1.3 and above, and doesn’t work with previous versions of the protocol. The reason is very simple: one of the changes introduced by TLS 1.3 (not without problems) meant moving the Certificate message sent by the server to the encrypted portion of the TLS handshake (before 1.3, it was sent in plaintext). Without this fundamental change to the protocol, an attacker would still be able to determine the identity of the server by simply observing the plaintext certificate sent on the wire.
The underlying cryptographic machinery involves using the Diffie-Hellman key exchange algorithm which allows client and server to generate a shared encryption key over an untrusted channel. The encrypted SNI encryption key is thus calculated on the client-side by using the server’s public key (which is actually the public portion of a Diffie-Hellman semi-static key share) and the private portion of an ephemeral Diffie-Hellman share generated by the client itself on the fly and discarded immediately after the ClientHello is sent to the server. Additional data (such as some of the cryptographic parameters sent by the client as part of its ClientHello message) is also mixed into the cryptographic process for good measure.
The client’s ESNI extension will then include, not only the actual encrypted SNI bits, but also the client’s public key share, the cipher suite it used for encryption and the digest of the server’s ESNI DNS record. On the other side, the server uses its own private key share, and the public portion of the client’s share to generate the encryption key and decrypt the extension.
While this may seem overly complicated, this ensures that the encryption key is cryptographically tied to the specific TLS session it was generated for, and cannot be reused across multiple connections. This prevents an attacker able to observe the encrypted extension sent by the client from simply capturing it and replaying it to the server in a separate session to unmask the identity of the website the user was trying to connect to (this is known as “cut-and-paste” attack).
However a compromise of the server’s private key would put all ESNI symmetric keys generated from it in jeopardy (which would allow observers to decrypt previously collected encrypted data), which is why Cloudflare’s own SNI encryption implementation rotates the server’s keys every hour to improve forward secrecy, but keeps track of the keys for the previous few hours to allow for DNS caching and replication delays, so that clients with slightly outdated keys can still use ESNI without problems (but eventually all keys are discarded and forgotten).
But wait, DNS? For real?
The observant reader might have realized that simply using DNS (which is, by default, unencrypted) would make the whole encrypted SNI idea completely pointless: an on-path observer would be able to determine which website the client is connecting to by simply observing the plaintext DNS queries sent by the client itself, whether encrypted SNI was used or not.
But with the introduction of DNS features such as DNS over TLS (DoT) and DNS over HTTPS (DoH), and of public DNS resolvers that provide those features to their users (such as Cloudflare’s own 1.1.1.1), DNS queries can now be encrypted and protected by the prying eyes of censors and trackers alike.
However, while responses from DoT/DoH DNS resolvers can be trusted, to a certain extent (evil resolvers notwithstanding), it might still be possible for a determined attacker to poison the resolver’s cache by intercepting its communication with the authoritative DNS server and injecting malicious data. That is, unless both the authoritative server and the resolver support DNSSEC[1]. Incidentally, Cloudflare’s authoritative DNS servers can sign responses returned to resolvers, and the 1.1.1.1 resolver can verify them.
What about the IP address?
While both DNS queries and the TLS SNI extensions can now be protected by on-path attackers, it might still be possible to determine which websites users are visiting by simply looking at the destination IP addresses on the traffic originating from users’ devices. Some of our customers are protected by this to a certain degree thanks to the fact that many Cloudflare domains share the same sets of addresses, but this is not enough and more work is required to protect end users to a larger degree. Stay tuned for more updates from Cloudflare on the subject in the future.
Encrypted SNI is now enabled for free on all Cloudflare zones using our name servers, so you don’t need to do anything to enable it on your Cloudflare website. On the browser side, our friends at Firefox tell us that they expect to add encrypted SNI support this week to Firefox Nightly (keep in mind that the encrypted SNI spec is still under development, so it’s not stable just yet).
By visiting encryptedsni.com you can check how secure your browsing experience is. Are you using secure DNS? Is your resolver validating DNSSEC signatures? Does your browser support TLS 1.3? Did your browser encrypt the SNI? If the answer to all those questions is “yes” then you can sleep peacefully knowing that your browsing is protected from prying eyes.
Encrypted SNI, along with TLS 1.3, DNSSEC and DoT/DoH, plugs one of the few remaining holes that enable surveillance and censorship on the Internet. More work is still required to get to a surveillance-free Internet, but we are (slowly) getting there.
[1]: It's important to mention that DNSSEC could be disabled by BGP route hijacking between a DNS resolver and the TLD server. Last week we announced our commitment to RPKI and if DNS resolvers and TLDs also implement RPKI, this type of hijacking will be much more difficult.
Subscribe to the blog for daily updates on all our Birthday Week announcements.
Birthday Week Product News Cryptography Security TLS
Birthday Week 2019 Wrap-up
This week we celebrated Cloudflare’s 9th birthday by launching a variety of new offerings that support our mission: to help build a better Internet. Below is a summary recap of how we celebrated Birthday Week 2019....
Birthday Week , Product News , Security , Analytics , 1.1.1.1
Workers Sites: Deploy Your Website Directly on our Network
Performance on the web has always been a battle against the speed of light — accessing a site from London that is served from Seattle, WA means every single asset request has to travel over seven thousand miles....
Birthday Week , Product News , Workers , Serverless , JavaScript
HTTP/3: the past, the present, and the future
We are now happy to announce that QUIC and HTTP/3 support is available on the Cloudflare edge network. We’re excited to be joined in this announcement by Google Chrome and Mozilla Firefox, two of the leading browser vendors and partners in our effort to make the web faster and more reliable for all....
, Rustam Lalkaka
Birthday Week , Product News , HTTP3 , QUIC , Security
The Technical Challenges of Building Cloudflare WARP
If you have seen [our other post] you know that we released WARP to the last members of our waiting list today. With WARP our goal was to secure and improve the connection between your mobile devices and the Internet....
Zack Bloom
Birthday Week , WARP , 1.1.1.1 , VPN , Deep Dive
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Category: News from San Francisco
Reviews & Comments: 4 by Rex Stout, & Why Language Matters
Posted on April 2, 2018 by LNH
And Four to Go by Rex Stout
Review by CJ Verburg
Four short novellas or long stories, each fun in a different way. Rex Stout was at his (long-lived) peak in the late 1950s, so these are vintage Nero Wolfe capers. Oddly, the first three are holiday-centered, whereas the fourth opens on a random Tuesday in the fashion business. In “Christmas Party,” Archie Goodwin strikes fear into his boss’s heart by announcing he’s getting married. “Easter Parade” features (you guessed it) orchids. “Fourth of July Picnic”–in which Wolfe leaves home to make a speech–and “Murder Is No Joke” both involve women named Flora. My favorite moment comes in “Fourth of July Picnic,” when Wolfe and Goodwin give us brief impromptu autobiographies. A treasure for Stout fans; a good intro for newcomers.
View CJ Verburg’s other Goodreads reviews
Pen vs. Sword, or Why Language Matters
Posted in Book News from Carol (CJ) Verburg, Book Reviews, News from San Francisco, Our Authors
Miss the Summer of Love? Get It While You Can
Posted on May 22, 2017 May 22, 2017 by LNH
It’s been 20+ years since Cory Goodwin broke into journalism by interviewing Mickey Ascher and Dan Quasi of The Rind at an antiwar march in DC. Mickey’s long dead, bludgeoned with a champagne bottle after a party in his Back Bay penthouse. The Rind broke up. Dan — murder suspect #1 — disappeared. Cory swung a summer assignment in Paris and came home married. Now she’s teaching school, separated, wondering what the hell she’s doing . . . until her old editor at Phases offers her a gig in Paris covering a Mystery Band.
That’s where Cory’s search for lost time collides with Dan Quasi’s.
What the hell is he doing? Is Boston’s onetime rock-protest hero really playing for an upscale networking program? Why would Dan and the other Rind survivors pick the Eiffel Tower, EuroDisney, and a village strawberry festival for their long-awaited comeback?
And what does this trip have to do with Mickey Ascher’s murder?
CJ Verburg’s brand-new Cory Goodwin mystery Another Number for the Road will whirl you back to the best of times and the worst of times: music, love, and flowers / drugs, sex, and violence. The leitmotif is music. This jukebox novel overflows with familiar songs and new ones, including some you can listen to with a click — interspersed with T.S. Eliot, Wallace Stevens, and sneak peeks at a rock opera in Fantasyland.
To celebrate this unique book’s debut, we’re pricing the Kindle version at just 99 cents/pence until Memorial Day. Paperback $14.99.
Get it while you can!
Posted in Book News from Carol (CJ) Verburg, News from San Francisco
Romance, Spring, Recollection, and Flowers
by Charisse Howard
As an avid writer and reader of historical romances, I’m attracted to today’s Thoroughly Depressing Word, shared by BK Magazine (the blog of publisher Berrett-Koehler) from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows:
Avenoir (noun)*: The desire that memory could flow backward. We take it for granted that life moves forward. But you move as a rower moves, facing backwards: you can see where you’ve been, but not where you’re going. And your boat is steered by a younger version of you. It’s hard not to wonder what life would be like facing the other way…
I once blurted out a moment of avenoir to a man I loved: How ironic that when an affair ends badly (as ours soon would), you can always look back to the beginning and spot the warning signs. If only time worked differently, what heartache we could avoid! He pointed out that one could equally well look back to the beginning and spot warning signs in an affair that thrives. Only then we don’t see them as warning signs — charming eccentricities, maybe; signals of our distinctiveness, our unique affinity.
The catch to avenoir in real life is that one is not always the rower. Often one is the lucky passenger in the stern, facing forward, looking at the scenery ahead and at the generous friend who’s pulling the oars.
Spring is a season for looking forward, and also for looking around at the miraculous bounty Nature unfurls every year. I recently had the good fortune to visit San Francisco’s Botanical Garden, AKA Strybing Arboretum, which always — every single time — has something new to show me. This particular day was a cornucopia of azaleas and rhododendrons. They’re closely related, and thanks to creative growers, sometimes you can’t tell which is which.
Their frilly skirts remind me of the young ladies who used to stroll through Kew Gardens, my favorite place to wander and goggle on the other side of the world. I imagine how erotically these blossoms must have charged the mood when two lovers (in the old sense of that word) walked together down a path, itching to brush against each other, yearning to be even closer.
Whatever your own romantic situation right now, shake off your avenoir and go visit some flowers. Revel in their beauty, their magical recurrence, and the centuries of feverish appreciation they embody. Picture the variety of ladies’ pelisses and gentlemen’s topcoats that have set a tremulous barrier between skin and skin. Savor the thousands of romances that have been kindled and fueled by the lush flowers of a garden, or the tiny hidden splashes of color along a woodland path — thousands past, and thousands more ahead. Including yours? Is it time to pick a blossom and inhale the rich fragrance of remembrance? Or offer your flower to someone whose company unfurls your soul into radiant bloom?
Posted in News from San Francisco
Social Media for Writers, & Building a Wall WITH Mexico
Posted on March 16, 2017 March 16, 2017 by LNH
Breaking news: US & Mexico to Partner with Christo on Border Wall
But first:
Always a bright spot in our In box is Bay Area publisher Berrett-Koehler’s BKCommunique. Among today’s high points:
Above the masthead, this unattributed insight:
“The sinking of the Titanic must have been a miracle to the live lobsters in the kitchen.”
“10 Ways First-Time Writers Can Get Noticed on Social Media,” a guest post by Emily Sweet, the Executive Director of Brand Development and Client Initiatives at Park Literary & Media, on “The Writer’s Dig” blog by Brian Klems on Writer’s Digest’s website.
and this news flash from Entertainment: “Alec Baldwin to co-write book as President Trump”
Speak of the devil: OK, we weren’t listening all that closely, but WOW! What a great idea from the White House! — commissioning Christo to build a wall along the U.S. border with Mexico!
We hear this grand project will be a partnership between the Mexican and U.S. governments, underwritten on our side by a big expansion of the National Endowment for the Arts. Between artists, construction workers, and the PBS crew filming the whole thing for public television, thousands of jobs will be created on both sides of the border. Income from tourism is estimated at over $100 million.
U.S.-Mexico Border Wall by Christo: a multifaceted win-win in the finest tradition of American enterprise.
Bay Area Small Presses: A Literary Sampler from Berrett-Koehler
Posted on January 19, 2017 by carol
Small presses are diverse, innovative, and plentiful in the San Francisco Bay Area. One of our favorites is Berrett-Koehler in Oakland. Besides publishing fascinating books, BK offers a newsletter which always lights up some unexpected nook of human thought, language, and/or endeavor.
Who could resist clicking on “Thoroughly Depressing Word of the Day”? Today’s word (from The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, by way of BK Managing Director Jeevan Sivasubramaniam) is
“Anemoia (noun): Nostalgia for a time you’ve never known.
Imagine stepping through the frame into a sepia-tinted haze, where you could sit on the side of the road and watch the locals passing by. Who lived and died before any of us arrived here, who sleep in some of the same houses we do, who look up at the same moon, who breathe the same air, feel the same blood in their veins—and live in a completely different world.”
At the other end of the alphabetical spectrum is
“Zoilist (noun): A person who thoroughly enjoys finding fault with others or in things around him or her.
Say the word out loud to yourself now that you know the meaning and see how many people immediately come to mind (except yourself, of course). That’s the really interesting part about it: no true zoilist ever considers him or herself to be one.”
Are you thoroughly depressed yet? Take heart! Here are two books from BK to recharge your batteries:
Eat That Frog! by Brian Tracy offers “21 Great Ways to Stop Procrastinating and Get More Done in Less Time.”
Crunch Time by Rick Peterson and Judd Hoekstra draws on lessons from baseball, among other sources, for tips on “How to Be Your Best When It Matters Most.”
And a topical tidbit: “Famed indie bookstore Powell’s sent ten books each to Obama and Trump. Curious as to which books were sent?”
There’s also a 48-hour e-book giveaway you may find irresistible.
Check out all this and more at https://www.bkconnection.com/
Citizen Science 2.0 from ETH Zurich: Crowdsourcing Research from Galaxies to Tastebuds
Posted on April 12, 2016 by carol
by CJ Verburg
The land of precision watches and fine chocolate has grander ambitions for the 21st-century than a better cuckoo clock. Just up Montgomery Street from the Transamerica Pyramid is Swissnex, HQ for Switzerland’s high-tech liaisons with the Bay Area and Silicon Valley. On
Kevin Schawinski prepares to moderate tonight’s panel discussion, while Carole Roberts, CJ Verburg, Linda Ackerman, and a ponytailed fan of Swissnex’s physics feasts wait to watch and listen. Photo (c) ETH Zurich-Barak Shrama-016 by Rahel Byland.
Friday night, April 8, we’re here to learn about investigative projects in which scientists based at ETH Zurich (“Where Einstein launched his career”) are directing research teams of hundreds, thousands, or millions of ordinary citizens around the world.
That unassuming man in geeky glasses and rolled-up shirtsleeves is Kevin Schawinski, Professor of Galaxy & Black Hole Astrophysics at ETH Zurich. A winner of the Royal Astronomical Society’s thesis prize at Oxford and a NASA Einstein Fellowship at Yale, he also cofounded the Galaxy Zoo. As his colleague Lucy Fortson will explain shortly, galaxies fall into two basic groups: blue spiral, which are relatively young and still forming stars, and red elliptical, AKA “red and dead.”
In this age of Big Data, projects such as the Sloan Digital Sky Survey can provide scientists with more information than any one person, university, or even nation can process. After classifying 50,000 galaxies himself, Schawinski turned over the other 950,000 in the pipeline to sharp-eyed online observers. “Within 24 hours of launch we were stunned to be receiving almost 70,000 classifications an hour.” That’s the Galaxy Zoo. If it sounds like fun, you can click here and start classifying galaxies yourself right now.
The panel, left to right: Professors Adrien Treuille, Lucy Fortson, Ulrich Genick, and Dirk Helbing. Photo (c) ETH Zurich-Barak Shrama-036 by Rahel Byland.
First speaker on the panel is Professor of Computational Social Sciences Dirk Helbing, whose specialties include crowds and traffic. He gives us a whirlwind tour of Big Data issues and responses, starting with the paradox that as information proliferates, the percentage we can process drops: What we CAN know may actually decrease what we DO know. We do know that governments and corporations are voraciously collecting data on individuals. In China, “citizen scores” on a multitude of measures are already becoming the basis for what each citizen is allowed to do. Helbing coordinates the FuturICT Initiative, which uses smart data to understand techno-socio-economic systems. His project Nervousnet is “a decentralized Internet of Things platform for privacy-preserving social sensing services.” Provided as a public good, it’s a two-way open-source mobile app. Nervousnet is holding its first Hackathon April 22-23 — check it out.
Dr. Ulrich Genick moved from biochemistry in Berlin to structural biology and biophysics at Scripps, the Salk Institute, and Brandeis, to leading a large-scale study on the interplay of human genetics, metabolism, and taste perception at the NRC in Lausanne. Now he’s at ETH Zurich’s Institute of Molecular Systems Biology, where last year he cofounded the MIDATA health data cooperative. Its intent is to restore control of personal data (health data in particular) to the sources of that data. Instead of signing over your privacy rights to any service that demands them as a condition of access, you’d be able to retain secure ownership of your own data and license its use. Genick explains why his current research focuses on taste and smell: the genetic specificity and wide individual variation of those senses (single nucleotide polymorphism) makes them ideal for investigating the relationship between genotype (your specific genetic sequence) and phenotype (how you experience, say, a cup of coffee). The more participants who supply their DNA analysis and their sensory perceptions, the more accurate a portrait can be created of which nucleotides play what role in the genetics of taste and smell.
Widening our view from nucleotides to galaxies is Professor Lucy Fortson, a founding member of the Zooniverse project and current board chair for the Citizen Science Alliance. In her vision of the emerging future of scientific research, human beings operate as a single multicellular investigator, eerily parallel to the multistellar galaxies they’re classifying. Fortson’s own sleuthing took her from high-energy physics at the CERN particle accelerator in Geneva to cosmic ray and gamma ray astrophysics with the Chicago Air Shower Array at the University of Chicago; currently she’s at the University of Minnesota. She recalls her and Kevin Schawinski’s happy surprise at the Galaxy Zoo’s success, which encouraged its proponents to add a few more projects, then many more. Now it’s morphed into the Zooniverse, a worldwide online platform which invites volunteers everywhere to collaborate on research projects from astronomy to zoology.
Dr. Adrien Treuille, V.P. of Simulation at Zoox, came to this driverless-car startup from Google X; before that, he taught computer science and robotics at Carnegie Mellon. He zooms us back down to micro level as the creator of the online games Foldit and Eterna. In challenging players to compete at folding proteins and designing RNA, these games (like the Zooniverse and other projects discussed here tonight) also establish a collaboration among far-flung strangers. On a personal level, they awaken creativity and skills that participants never knew they had. On a scientific level, they focus a myriad of sharp eyes and minds on problems that are too vast and/or complicated for any ordinary pod of humans (or computers) to solve.
Along with the parallels among citizen-science projects, Lucy Fortson notes a contrast. For her research, she seeks as many participants as possible — the more people, the better the data. For his, Adrien Treuille seeks the most skillful participants. His games encourage self-selection: if you don’t win more points than the other players figuring out how to fold a protein from its amino-acid sequence, you’ll soon quit. Ulrich Genick takes a more traditional approach in his sensory research by recruiting a specific number of volunteers to study in a specific place. Similarly, for Dirk Helbing, a crowd of participants are his subject as well as his collaborators.
Emerging from this heady gathering, I find myself mulling over two common themes. One is the shift in scientific research from direct observation of physical subjects to designing experiments with and for computers. Do astronomy or botany students still choose the field from an attraction to planets or plants, or is the aptest motivation nowadays a desire to count and track? The other thread is the remarkable way the Internet age is bringing out the collective tendencies of human beings. We’re gravitating toward our ant-colony or school-of-fish side: diverse minds finding not just a common purpose but a common direction and rhythm. This is not new, but it’s a 180-degree-turn from my generation’s passionate commitment to individual self-discovery and self-expression.
I’ve been wondering for decades how the Net — freeing human connections from geography and even time — would change the concept of community. Maybe one answer is Citizen Science.
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Movie Talk: Spider-Man Far From Home #4
oendertuerk
6 months agoSteemit5 min read
Now I'm coming to the end of Spider-Man Far from Home and what the last post credit scene is all about and I'm going to take it completely through and take a closer look at its true meaning for the future of the MCU because there was a lot going on in this post credit scene and I even think that this is probably one of the best scenes we ever got to an MCU whose purpose is to tease on the future of the MCU. As a fan I'm already looking forward to what we can expect and how the MCU will work out this post cedit scene in the upcoming movies.
So let us summarize briefly what happens in this Post Cedit scene so that we have a little recap of what really happened. First of all we really don't get anything unusual shown, because we see a normal scene of Maria Hill and Nick Fury driving around together in a car, but then the huge plot-twist comes and Maria Hill starts to transform herself together with Nick Fury, which is the revelation that they were Skrulls the whole time. It turns out that they were Skrulls that were introduced to us in Captain Marvel, they're Talos and his wife. The two discuss what happened in the movie and Talos was fooled by Mysterio and his holograms and his invented story.
But then Talos starts a facetime conversation with someone we shouldn't know at this point, he talks about a mission and says that he really hopes that this mission went well and that he fulfilled his task to hand over Tony Stark's glasses to Peter Parker as he was told to. Then we are already revealed who is really at the other end of the call and who would be none other than Nick Fury himself, who seems to be on the beach at the moment, but which turns out to be a hologram very quickly. Nick Fury gets up from his beach lounger, you can see that he steps out of a small cabin and says to everyone else that they should go to work and we are revealed a huge space station in which he is staying and last but not least he asks where his shoes have gone.
A small post credit scene that is very short but full of information, but before I go any further I would like to dedicate myself first to Talos and his wife Soren and what significance this reveal has. This is the first time we have had the factor that Talos has been among people for a long time and that the earth has not completely turned away like in Captain Marvel. However, this does not happen on the fact that we have seen him here now but that Talos have already been shown to us at the end of Avengers Endgame.
At the end of Avengers Endgame we could see how all our heroes have found their way back into their normal daily lives, we could see Peter Parker going back to school and trying to find his way back in together with his friends. In the background of the whole crowd and the students you can see the actor Ben Mendelsohn.
The actor Ben Mendelsohn plays Talos and also his human form, which we already saw in Captain Marvel, when he doesn't have to step into the role of Nick Fury. This with the current reveal in this post credit scene is not only an indication that several Skrulls are already on earth and could lead a hidden life, but also that every smallest detail can have a meaning in the MCU. There is hardly a film franchise or a film series like the MCU that is so well thought out and already too often we have been provided with hints in the background that later had a much bigger meaning. Especially this system shows very well that there are hints hidden everywhere.
But this only raises further questions. For example, how long have the Skrulls been on earth, or what are they doing there? Didn't they all disappear with Captain Marvel? Or did they come back again? Is there perhaps a secret plan that a few Skrulls on earth are about to carry out and would prefer to control the earth themselves? Or they even just do that? In any case, since Captain Marvel's release, you can notice a lot of evidence that the makers have set so far, and now this revelation, that we could definitely see more of Skrulls and this could very likely lead us to a future event after Avengers Endgame, which would be Secret Invasion. In this scenario, the whole earth/world is secretly but surely taken over by the Skrulls, leading to a conflict between the heroes themselves, as they themselves no longer know who to trust, as the Skrulls are truly masters at taking shape and deceiving others. But you can also deceive them, as we noticed in Far From Home at Talos.
Part 3 Part 5
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BXTRA Clips
bxtra.blog
BXTRA with Raheem Nelson–iPad Artist
Tatyana TurnerUncategorizedart, artists, bronx, extraordinary, ipad art, King, Neo-soul, New Haven, New York City, Raheem Nelson, Solange Knowles, talentLeave a comment
–Tatyana Turner
In 2010, the world was introduced to an iPad, a tablet computer that serves as a computer, music device, and movie player amongst other functions. Little did anyone know, this technological advancement birthed a new genre of art…iPad art.
Seven years later, I was introduced to a creative gentleman at a social event. He was drawing remarkable portraits of people in under 10 minutes! I was impressed and knew that he had to come on BXTRA to share his work.
A few days after Christmas, I met with Raheem and honestly, I was excited because there was a lot to learn about iPad art, but first I wanted to cover the basics. ” What is your definition of art?” I asked. Raheem responded, ” Self-expression; putting forth something you think is part of yourself.” Something he has been doing since the age of seven.
Raheem has a background in cartooning and throughout high school and college, he was able to self-publish a number of comic books. When the iPad was introduced, he took to a new medium and created his works on a digital platform. Drawing and painting works of art on the iPad was not a hobby for Raheem, it was a lifestyle. Within the past year alone, his works were published in books, one was a cook book filled with tasty recipes for the holidays!
Many if not all the people who are in a creative field must overcome a tedious struggle. ” Do you ever get ‘artists block?” I asked. ” I definitely get artists block from time to time,” said Raheem. The solution…taking a break and getting inspired by checking out different works of art and scrolling through Pinterest.
Though the talented artist is from New Haven, CT., he was still very influenced by the Bronx. “From the Elm to the Empire,” was the result of his inspiration. For four years, Raheem illustrated a book that captured his two-hour commute between New Haven to New York City. Aside from the book, Raheem created an album cover for one of his favorite neo-soul music groups called, “King.” He also created a portrait honoring the singer, Solange Knowles which portrays the message of self-care. To date, the portrait is Raheem’s proudest art piece and he hopes for Solange to one day see it.
When asked to describe his work in one word, Raheem chose the word, “vibrant.” For me, I chose, “wow”, but if I had to choose another word, without hesitation, I’d choose extraordinary!
To see the full episode of Raheem Nelson, click the link below.
Do Good. Stay Well. BXTRA.
Posted by Tatyana Turner
Tatyana Turner is a Bronx native who grew up in the Mott Haven and Grand Concourse sections of the borough. She has experience in print journalism and photography. In December 2016, Tatyana graduated from Temple University with a degree in Communication Studies and returned to her home in the Bronx where she is applying her skills to further discover the extraordinary people and places in the place she calls home.
Sam Script–How to Achieve Happieness
BXTRA with Walter Cruz
BXTRA CALENDAR
Follow BXTRA!
𝚆𝚊𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚊 𝚝𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 🎅🏾❤️
You know a lot, little girl. At one, you know how to say more than 50 words. You know the alphabet. You know how to scroll through my phone and watch Simple Songs. You know how to sing, dance and make silly faces at the camera. You know how to share. You know how to make me smile and laugh effortlessly. And somehow, I think you know you’re adorable. But what you don’t know and will never know is how much Auntie —or “Tante” as you say—loves you. I couldn’t imagine having a better niece than you. Happy birthday to my little big girl, Kendi Ben 😘❤️ Now let’s get cake wasted 🎂 #niece #goddaughter #1stbirthday
🎥 #shootyourshot Photo cred : @kellycarrion12
Birthday. Bourbon & Beads. #nola #24 #virgoseason Photo cred: @jazzybelle9 Caption cred :@jazzybelle9
Signed, sealed, delivered...my Master’s Project is done! For about a year, I just knew I was going to write about housing insecurity. But, when the time came to declare my topic, I chose to write something more personal and vulnerable : black love in America throughout the generations. I definitely couldn’t have done it alone, so a special shout out goes out to everyone who has been on this journey with me these past 15 weeks. You know who you are. #feelingaccomplished #thankyoulord
I love being a journalist. I love being black. I love being a black journalist. What an honor it’s been so far to participate in the #nabj19 conference. It’s been such a humbling experience to listen to and engage with amazing reporters from all over. Count me in next year...and the year after that! #nabj #nabj19 #miami #blackjournalists
‘BXTRA’ Lesson 101
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EzzXPDwNKL8&t=2s
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Art In Conversation
Portrait of Raphael Rubinstein. Pencil on paper by Phong Bui.
On May 5, Joan Waltemath met with Raphael Rubinstein at his loft in TriBeCa, where he lives with his wife, artist Elena Berriolo, and their two daughters, to talk about Reinventing Abstraction: New York Painting in the 1980s, a show he curated at Cheim & Read (June 27 – August 30).
Joan Waltemath (Rail): Between the ’70s and the ’80s, post-structuralist philosophy became a dominating influence in the arts and people started to use it more as a way to generate art than as a language to talk about art. One of the things I wanted to ask you was whether the painters you chose for Reinventing Abstraction were more involved in a phenomenological or purely material approach? Were they involved in the whole post-structuralist wave that hit New York in the ’80s, or did they come from somewhere completely other?
Raphael Rubinstein: What you have to remember is because there are 15 artists in the show, there are 15 different stories. I’m focusing on a generation, people born between 1939 and 1949, so they emerged before the rise of theory. Still, in the 1970s many artists were trying to deconstruct painting, both philosophically and literally. In some ways, a lot of 1970s art was closer in spirit to the structuralist and post-structuralist philosophers than the work of the younger painters who cited them so frequently in the 1980s. There was a lot of this deconstructed painting in Katy Siegel’s show High Times, Hard Times. The transition from the ’70s to the ’80s is a big part of what I’ve discovered in doing Reinventing Abstraction. Around 1980, a generation of artists who had been involved in the radical strategies of the ’70s rediscovered the possibilities of painting on stretched canvas, and working with oil paint, figure/ground relationships, applying paint with a brush instead of spraying or folding or pouring or staining. They also acknowledged and sought out relationships to art history. In the ’70s there was still this idea that you could make an absolute break with the past and start from degree zero. In the early ’80s that began to look not only like a naïve fantasy but also like a formula. Suddenly, it became a lot more exciting and adventurous to reconnect with art history. There was a rediscovery of history—not as something to escape, but as a source of new content.
Rail: The 15 artists that you brought together for Reinventing Abstraction—do you see them as participating in the kind of thinking and community, or culture, that’s represented by the High Times, Hard Times show?
Rubinstein: Absolutely, it is the same community. One of the things that inspired my show was David Reed’s notion that there’s a “street history” of painting that painters share with each other, a set of references and concerns, and a sense of where they’ve come from and where they’re going. This street history almost never gets into official versions. Art historians and museum curators don’t seem to have much interest in it. The other thing that really hit me was an Art in America review by Carrie Moyer of the last show Stephen Mueller did before he died. She wrote that Mueller and a number of other painters were the “generation that essentially reinvented American abstract painting in the 1970s and ’80s.” I knew immediately that this must be true, especially because it was a painter I respected who was saying it. I also realized that this was a history that hadn’t been told. Even though most of the painters in my show are quite well known, they’ve largely been left out of the official histories of the 1980s because they don’t fit into Neo-Expressionism or Appropriation Art or Neo-Geo.
“In some ways, a lot of 1970s art was closer in spirit to the structuralist and post-structuralist philosophers than the work of the younger painters who cited them so frequently in the 1980s.”
Rail: What strikes me is that the official history of the moment is pretty much what goes on in the market: who gets bought and sold. Artists, for the most part, know who’s making interesting work, where something is happening, whether the official version is able to accommodate that, or is interested in it, or not.
Rubinstein: Another thing running through my mind as I formulated Reinventing Abstraction was the fact that many painters I really admire are not at all engaged with what I’ve called “provisional painting,” which has preoccupied me over the last few years.
Rail: How did you come to the idea of provisionality?
Rubinstein: It was a gradual process, the result of asking myself some questions, and having the time to answer them. In 2007, I left Art in America where I’d been an editor since the mid-1990s and started teaching one semester a year at the University of Houston School of Art. This meant I had more time to think, to write slowly, not under a deadline. One of the questions I was asking myself was: why had Mary Heilmann become one of the most important painters of her generation? Her compositions and paint handling seem so casual. There is no big statement, no virtuosity, no striking innovation, and yet there is something in the work that resonates for many people. I began asking similar questions about Raoul De Keyser. His paintings are small, low-key, seemingly amateurish, but many artists look to them as a model of what can be done in painting. Then I turned to Chris Wool’s erasure paintings and Michael Krebber’s desultory works like “Contempt for one’s own work as planning for career” (2001) and his notion of “unfinished too soon.” I started seeing something running through all this work, and the work of a lot of younger painters like Richard Aldrich, that I would eventually give a name to. At the same time I realized there had been such a big emphasis on high-production-value art, especially in art fairs where there was so much work that was professionally executed, often by assistants. It was like the return of Salon painting. Takashi Murakami, Jeff Koons, John Currin, and countless others were churning out such highly finished art. I think a lot of viewers and artists felt there was something missing. What I call provisionality, a sense of casualness and unfinished-ness in painting, was one way to reconnect with the foundational doubt of modern art that really had been lost in the marketing and professionalizing, in the technical slickness of the booming art market. I wrote my first article on Provisional Painting against the background of the financial crisis of 2007–2008. It’s not completely accidental that my conceptualizing of provisionality and the recession coincide, even though a lot of the painters I wrote about had been painting for a long time in that mode. I believe it helps explain the enormous response the article received. This way of approaching painting made even more sense as the economy was collapsing.
Stuart Shave/Modern Art Provisional Painting, curated by Raphael Rubinstein, 2011. Featuring Julian Schnabel "Lampshade," 2007 (left), Richard Aldrich "Untitled," 2011 (right). Courtesy Stuart Shave/Modern Art, London.
Rail: It’s the antithesis of surplus and excess.
Rubinstein: Yes, and it also reconnects with a sense of failure and risk that we associate so much with Abstract Expressionism. One of the things that was lost post-Warhol is the notion of creative struggle—of the artist as someone trying to make something that resists attempts to achieve it. The classic expression of this struggle is James Lord’s book, A Giacometti Portrait, where he describes Giacometti’s endless, and ultimately failed attempts to achieve what it is he wants in painting. It’s very existentialist and very Beckettian. In the 1960s artists became professionalized. Earning an M.F.A. degree is in total contradiction to the idea of the modern artist as existential hero. Another aspect of provisional painting, which is very multi-layered and diverse, is the quest to reconcile Henri Matisse and Marcel Duchamp. How can you bring together a desire to make a highly nuanced, visually rich painting, with the very strong tradition of anti-painting? How can you sustain painting as a viable and not simply backwards-looking medium? I have always been convinced that this is completely possible to do, but it’s sometimes only possible by allowing into painting its enemies, its negation. The idea of negation is very strong in modern art and modern literature. To get that tension between the joy of the medium, and the antithesis of that, sometimes results in really great paintings.
Rail: I was thinking about the reception of your first piece on provisional painting. When it came out there was such a buzz. My sense was that people were really grateful that a serious and coherent discourse on painting had emerged. It seemed like it had been so long since some kind of reasonable, or believable, position had been taken about painting. How would you characterize the difference between the artists you discuss in your articles on provisionality and the painters who are in Reinventing Abstraction?
Rubinstein: There’s not much overlap. The only artist who I wrote about in “Provisional Painting” who figures in Reinventing Abstraction is Mary Heilmann. I was completely surprised and excited by the response to my articles. It’s the first time in my career as a critic that something I’ve proposed has taken on a life of its own. I think one reason there hasn’t been as much engaging writing about painting recently is that a lot of the writers who are most involved in theoretical overviews are uninterested in painting. They see it as a fatally compromised medium. Too bad for them. You ask about the connection between “Provisional Painting” and Reinventing Abstraction. While there’s been this ongoing, enthusiastic response to my writings on provisionality, I’ve also heard from a lot of painters who I know and respect that there’s nothing provisional about their work, that their work is not about the “impossibility” of painting, it’s not about the concept of the unfinished, or about de-skilling. This spurred me to think through another genealogy of painting, if only to make it clear that I would never want to suggest that modes of painting other than provisionality are somehow of lesser value.
Jonathan Lasker, "Double Play," 1987. Oil on linen, 76 x 100". Courtesy Cheim & Read, New York.
Rail: Which is often an assumption that gets made by virtue of an article being published.
Rubinstein: The last thing I want to do is suggest that at a given moment there is only one acceptable medium, or one acceptable kind of content. The show also grew out of my interest in art of the 1980s. In 2011, I wrote a long article for Art in America about Julian Schnabel, probably the first serious reconsideration of his work in 25 years. Earlier this year I wrote another piece for Art in America looking back at the debates around Neo-Expressionism. The 1980s were the moment I began paying attention to contemporary art, regularly seeing shows. I published my first piece of criticism in 1986. This show has been a chance for me to revisit this period with a lot more experience, more objectivity, I hope—certainly more knowledge. Because I was just beginning as a critic in the 1980s, there was a lot of that I missed or misunderstood. I think the only artist in the show I actually met in the ’80s was David Reed, and maybe Jonathan Lasker. It’s interesting, if a little eerie and unsettling, to see a period you’ve lived through become historicized. You are forced to compare your memories of what it was like to the way it’s being reconstituted in museum shows or art historical books.
Rail: Do you feel that the work of Barry Le Va, Carl Andre, Donald Judd, who were all basically sculptors, but who initiated new kinds of subjects or parameters into abstraction in the ’70s, were influential for any of the artists in Reinventing Abstraction? I’m thinking of the whole idea of randomness and chaos in Le Va, or the grid structure of Judd or Andre.
Rubinstein: A number of these painters have spoken about how important process art was for them. During my studio visits, several mentioned Richard Serra’s thrown lead works and I know that for David Reed and Terry Winters, two very different painters, materiality and process were important, as were post-minimalist strategies for getting away from conventional compositional devices. And then there is Jack Whitten, whose motto is “make it rather than paint it.”
Rail: Is he in the show?
Mary Heilmann, "Rio Nido," 1987. Acrylic and oil on canvas, 39 x 58". Courtesy of the artist, 303 Gallery, New York, Hauser & Wirth.
Rubinstein: Yes, with a 1980 painting centered on three blocks of color that happen to be the colors of the Pan-African flag. Post-minimalist sculpture was important, but so was the rediscovery in the late ’70s and early ’80s of models that were particular to painting such as Philip Guston’s late work.
Rail: There’s an interesting twist between the coldness of Judd or Andre with his metal on the floor, using a grid, and then the way Stanley Whitney paints his grid paintings. His presence while he is painting brings his humanity so much to the surface. I don’t know if that’s what you were getting at, but that’s what your title Reinventing Abstraction made me think of when I was looking at Whitney’s show a few days ago and contemplating our upcoming conversation.
Rubinstein: I think what you’re picking up on is that Whitney’s grid doesn’t come out of Minimalism, it comes out of his experiences looking at ancient walls in Rome, and visiting Egypt and seeing the pyramids. That structure comes out of a very historical, very ancient, and very weathered kind of grid where things are not diagrammed and fabricated according to some conceptually distinct model, but are the result of happenstance, accumulation, experience, momentary decisions, and lucky accidents. He reminds us that the grid is not always a sign of industrialized consciousness, but is also a fundamental human structure, which you find in traditional cultures around the world—that history of abstraction that the Museum of Modern Art so blindly failed to remember existed when they titled their show Inventing Abstraction as if it had never been done before.
Rail: As if the seminal argument Tom McEvilley had with William Rubin and Kirk Varnedoe never happened.
Rubinstein: Exactly! Twenty years later and MoMA doesn’t seem to have made much progress. I should just say here that I didn’t intend the title Reinventing Abstraction to be a response to the MoMA show. I actually came up with the title before I knew about the MoMA show. Once I saw the relationship I decided to keep it, but it’s not an intentional response.
Rail: I love what you’re saying about where Whitney’s grid is coming from and it intrigues me because I’m a grid painter, so it’s an important subject for me. Whitney’s grid is able to recall all these other grids for us because the generation before really put those terms into the artistic vocabulary in a way—like in Minimalism—in a new way that was undeniable, especially after Rosalind Krauss’s notion that a “grid is an undevelopable form.” I love how Whitney turns that statement on its head.
Rubinstein: As does Mary Heilmann, who uses grids and evokes more directly than Whitney the modernist abstraction format.
Rail: Could we reflect a bit on the ’90s, after the period Reinventing Abstraction covers? What were you looking at and what were you reading during that period that was influential for you? There was a big shift at the beginning of the ’90s, belief in the market waned for the first time, there was a skepticism among artists who had been promoted, whose prices had been inflated, who didn’t achieve them in auctions, and suddenly they couldn’t really do anything because they had gotten a vote of no confidence from the market. A whole different mood was ushered in at the beginning of the ‘90s.
Stanley Whitney, "Sixteen Songs," 1984. Oil on linen. 66 x 108". Courtesy: team (gallery, inc.).
Rubinstein: I’d been living in Italy from the summer of ’89 to the end of 1992. One of the first things I did when I returned was to curate an exhibition on the influence of Jean-Luc Godard on contemporary art at PS1. The show was called Postcards from Alphaville, which is also the title of a book of autobiographical prose I published in 1999. It traced allusions to Godard from Pop Art through conceptual art, performance art, abstract painting, and beyond. There was work by Al Ruppersberg, Mel Bochner, Barbara Bloom, Günther Förg, Philippe Parreno, Mary Weatherford, and many others. When I came back from Italy, I was trying to put together a show of European Pop Art, which never happened. In retrospect, one of the things that swung my attention away from Godard and European Pop Art was meeting Norman Bluhm. In the middle of my years in Milan, I came back to New York for a long stay. This was in 1991, and one day John Yau arranged for Norman and me to meet at Napoli, an old-style Italian place that used to be on the corner of Spring and Sullivan in SoHo. I quickly became very involved with Norman’s work. Three artists who have been really important to me—Shirley Jaffe, George Sugarman, and Norman Bluhm—were all so-called second generation Abstract Expressionists: all Americans who went to Paris after the war, all artists who were trying to find ways to move beyond the stylistic modes that their generation was practicing, and all artists whose work is yet to be fully appreciated, despite the efforts of me and other supporters.
Rail: There is a show up of George Sugarman now at Gary Snyder, right?
Rubinstein: Yes, a show of the 1960s painted wood sculptures. I wrote a long essay for the catalog where I try to reconstruct George’s breakthroughs. Anyway, throughout the 1990s, I spent a lot of time with Norman, mostly looking at his paintings in Vermont. He and his wife Cary had left the city and were living on the top of a hill with a big studio where Norman was making epic paintings, the greatest of his career, I thought. So that’s one thread of “my” ’90s, following the work of a much older generation. I also began writing a series of articles on abstraction for Art in America, where I started working as an editor in ’94 that looked at painters closer to my age: Jonathan Lasker, Fabian Marcaccio, Lydia Dona, Richmond Burton, Stanley Whitney, and Karin Davie. Also sculptors: Daniel Wiener, Jeanne Silverthorne, and Jessica Stockholder. I also got very interested in contemporary French painting, especially Bernard Piffaretti and Noël Dolla. As the ’90s went on I felt there was something in current abstract painting that needed a voice, that needed examination and attention. I began to feel more and more responsibility as an art critic to address abstract painting.
Rail: There was a sense at that time that abstraction was something that had been done already, certainly for geometric abstraction.
Rubinstein: If you look at the 1993 show at the New Museum there is a bit of painting but it’s basically defining the period as not being particularly a painting period. What are the implications of excluding 75 percent of the kind of work that’s being made at a given moment? It’s as if to say that other work is somehow historically irrelevant. It didn’t speak to the kind of defining identity of 1993 or 1973 or 2003. Although there were some artists in that show whose work I wrote about at the time, Cady Noland and Suzanne McClelland, for example, I didn’t really recognize my 1993 in that show. My 1993 was looking at a lot of abstract painting from different generations, discovering amazing artists like Miguel Angel Rios and Charles Long, and reading two great books of the early 1990s, Greil Marcus’s Lipstick Traces and John Ashbery’s Flow Chart. I’m not saying that my 1993 has any better claim to importance than the New Museum’s 1993, but I think this shows the fallacy and dangers of these kinds of projects where you are imposing on a work of art the obligation to represent something other than itself. I hope I will avoid this with Reinventing Abstraction.
Stephen Mueller, "Delphic Hymn," 1989. Acrylic, raw pigment, and ink on canvas. 72 x 60". Estate of Stephen Mueller, courtesy Lennon, Weinberg Inc, New York.
Rail: I think we’ve reached a point where we are so used to art being burdened by the curatorial conceit, and it really affects the way we see the works themselves. I saw an exhibition that I was in at Le Magasin Centre d’Art Contemporain de Grenoble, France a few years ago of Olivier Mosset’s collection. Over the years he’s bought and traded work by many artists. The overwhelming impression for me was how liberating it was for those individual works of art to hang in a museum on their own merits, just because Olivier had acquired them. It created a completely ecstatic mood among the artists. It was the first time that I felt how heavy a burden it is for art to be shown in relation to a concept, or whatever is the organizing principle of an exhibition.
Rubinstein: A major fault line in contemporary art is between curators and critics. It’s no secret over the last 30 years there’s been a kind of transfer of power from the critic to the curator. We need to ask ourselves, what does a critic do in terms of making choices and contextualizing artworks that is different from what a curator does? This is something I think about as a critic who sometimes curates exhibitions.
Rail: Crossing the fault line.
Rubinstein: In curating you really can’t know what’s going to happen until you actually put two works next to each other. When you’re writing, you can always rephrase, rewrite, delete, balance things—you really are in complete control of how a work of art is going to be presented and interpreted and understood. But when you’re curating a show you don’t know what’s going to happen until the last moment, at least if you’re allowing the work its autonomy.
Rail: So what were the surprises for you in Reinventing Abstraction?
Rubinstein: I don’t know because I haven’t hung the show yet! What will happen when I put Elizabeth Murray next to Stanley Whitney? Stephen Mueller next to Tom Nozkowski? Pat Steir next to Jonathan Lasker? There’s no way to know beforehand, which is a great reason to do this show.
Joan Waltemath
JOAN WALTEMATH is an artist who lives and works in New York City. She writes on art and has served as an editor-at-large of the Brooklyn Rail since 2001. She has shown extensively and her work is in the collections of the Harvard University Art Museums, the National Gallery of Art, the Hammer Museum and the Museum of Modern Art. She is currently the Director of the LeRoy E. Hoffberger School of Painting at MICA.
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The Pleasure and Satisfaction of Living
By Amy De'Ath
By Jessica Holburn
Ed Steck
By Josef Kaplan
Stanzas from an untitled poem
By Daniel Tiffany
five from Museum Penghancur Dokumen / Document Shredding Museum
By Afrizal Malna, translated by Daniel Owen
By Isabel Sobral Campos
By Trace DePass
Niki de Saint Phalle: Le Cimetière de Montparnasse
By Devon Whitehead
Nell Painter's Old in Art School: A Memoir of Starting Over
By Karen Chernick
Adrian Piper: A Synthesis of Intuitions, 1965 – 2016 and Adrian Piper: A Reader
By Phillip Griffith
Steel Stillman: Black Point
By Taylor Dafoe
Katherine Bernhardt: Houses
By Eli Hill
Young, Black, Rich and Haitian
By Christopher Stackhouse
A Tribute to Irving Sandler
On Laundromats
By George Grylls
Dreams of National Capital: Market Socialism, Past and Present
By Jamie Merchant
Jobs, Bullshit, and the Bureaucratization of the World
By Jason E. Smith
The Aggressiveness of Vulnerability
By Pavlos Roufos
ZAD: The State of Play
by S.G. and G.K., translated from the French by Janet Koenig
Godard's press conference at Cannes
The 1968 International Film Festival of Cannes fell right in the middle of one of the most turbulent periods in French 20th-century history. Fifty years later, whilst claiming to celebrate the “national” spirit of May ’68, President Emmanuel Macron threatens to destroy its residual legacy through neoliberal policies, labor reforms, and harsh new immigration laws. The Cannes of 2018 also emerges in the context of months of public sector strikes and popular demonstrations, as well as a cultural fight: Who will get to tell the story of May ’68? Who will write history? And what does a real or fake film by Jean-Luc Godard have to do with it?
On May 17th, 2018, Le Monde published an open letter calling for people in the film industry to defend the ZAD. (Short for “Zone to Defend,” the ZAD is 3,700 acres of fields, woodland, and rare wildlife near the village of Notre-Dames-des-Landes, in the west of France which has been protested against by agricultural workers since 1974 and occupied by them and others since 2009.) The letter’s publication coincided with a second round of violent evictions in the zone, and was signed by over 250 filmmakers, producers, actors, and critics, including Pedro Costa, Philippe Garrel, and Aki Kaurismäki. A month before, on the 9th of April 2018 at 3am, the first round of two weeks of extremely violent clearances started. Against the zone’s several hundred occupants was the brute force of 2,500 gendarmes, over 3,000 grenades and 8,000 tear gas bombs, police tanks, a helicopter with an infrared camera, and a drone. During the eviction, Maxime Peugeot, a twenty-one year old student had his hand blown off by a police stun grenade, the same kind which killed another activist, Remi Fraisse, in 2014. Writer and Professor Emeritus at NYU Kristin Ross, interviewed on French cable television on 16 April 2018, expressed her shock: “This is war equipment, going in to a tiny little area with a few hundred people.”1
The open letter responds to the short film Vent d’ouest (or Wind from the West), purportedly by the celebrated Swiss-French filmmaker Jean-Luc Godard, which was first released in the French online weekly journal lundi.am a week earlier. “Sensitive to both the current political situation and to the reminder of the commitments of his youth,” the journal claimed, “[Godard] has undertaken the task, for the opening of Cannes, of making a five-minute short film on the ZAD and the state of the world.”
Vent d’ouest is characteristic—or a very good pastiche of—Godard’s work, enigmatic in the way it plays on both the history of moving images and the urgent contemporary situation of the evictions. The film-essay splices together footage appropriated from the aforementioned helicopter/drone complex, extracts from Soviet and ’68 workers’ films, paintings (In Bed, The Kiss by Toulouse-Lautrec and Saturn Devouring his Son by Goya), photographs (of guerrillas from the Assyrian independence struggle), and sound mined from individuals’ videos of the evictions. Throughout these montaged images and films are Godard’s signature title cards which trace the film’s basic dialectical inversion in a play on the 1968 slogan, Sous les Pavés la Plage: “Under the Image Technique” and “Under Technique the Image.”
Throughout the film an almost oracular, older voice elaborates a slightly mystical history of technique, manual labour, and cinema. Over helicopter footage from the 9th of April that shows wooden structures and cabins on the ZAD being destroyed by a police tank, the voiceover begins: “In another time, there were only filmmakers. We didn’t speak of technicians. Méliès, Thalberg, Grémillon. The hands of Soviet women film-editors, like those of the workers of Rhodia, made the exception where the rule was established.” While the filmmakers mentioned are also decidedly innovators in the technique of early cinema, our attention is drawn to the collective and manual aspects of filmmaking in the form of the hands that cut film—or, in the case of the Rhodiacéta workers, the hands that made films of their own strike. Here, we learn, the intransigent hands that affirm the technical work of filmmaking as cinema are no longer an exception. As the helicopter’s pixelated shot of the police tank collapsing the wooden structure like a house of cards continues to play in slow motion, the voiceover rambles, wearily: “Today it’s the reign of technicians. Technicians of the . . . audiovisual, of the gendarmerie.” In a dialectical movement typical of Godard—is he talking about cinema? is he talking about politics?—this reflection on the history of the cinema rebounds upon forms of state control: now that there are no more filmmakers, it is drones and the gendarmerie that make images.
Technicians have appropriated not only “Technique,” but images as well. The footage of collapsing structures on the ZAD, of course, come from the helicopter and drone cameras hovering above the zone. They may be considered stolen images in the sense suggested by the weary voiceover, over an image of In Bed, The Kiss a few minutes later: “Industry and its machines have always generated their own music. The images and sounds emitted by life, stolen, retransmitted by agony and destined for death, in the structures of death.” Industry (“Technique”) transforms stolen images and sounds into death. These stolen images are thus stolen twice: first, as simple images, “détourned” (or indeed produced) as surveillance; second, by the film itself, re-transformed to illuminate the forces at work in the production of the image and after it. The image as used here works against itself. This kind of image reversal seems to be what is demanded at the film’s end when the voiceover asks its general viewer to “Reverse the trajectory, come back to life from death, do away with agony.”
Considering its strategic release the week of the Cannes Film Festival, one could suggest the film responds to another open letter, this one by a collective of production assistants who wrote to Godard when his film, Le Livre d’Image, was selected at the festival this year. The letter reminds Godard of his involvement in the disruption of Cannes in ’68 and asks him to “Zbeulifier”(argot for “turn upside down,” deriving from the arabic word zbèl) the festival. Playing on the movement’s trademark slogan, “ZAD PARTOUT,” the letter asks Godard to create a ZAD at Cannes, and to block the famous red-carpeted Palais. Given that even the neologism Zone à Défendre (Zone to defend) is a kind of occupation—a détournement of the government planning permission term “zone d’aménagement différé” (zone to develop)—this would not seem inappropriate.
At the May ’68 Cannes, Godard, to an audience that included Miloš Forman, François Truffaut, and Louis Malle, famously declared, “I speak to you of solidarity with students and workers, and you talk to me about tracking shots and close ups! You’re all idiots!” In a major moment in the politicization of French cinema, Godard insists on the violent invasion of the Palais by the streets outside. Here, again, he plays on the relation between the cinematic image and the political situation at large: his reference to the close up reveals the institutions’ lack of a wider perspective that would look outside of itself, or of a tracking shot that would actually keep up to date with contemporary (social) movements.
Given Godard’s legendary performance—one of several in his long history of appearances at the festival—the French press received Godard’s “new film,” Vent d’ouest, with great enthusiasm, bewilderment, and curiosity. Among the biggest believers were Cahiers du Cinéma, Le Monde, and Les Inrockuptibles. Libération, for example, wrote excitedly about the film as a “good old cinétract with Papa,” and a “magnificent five minutes” of “untimely interference” in the stagnant Cannes 2018, declaring that the “funereal lyricism” of the text and its assembly of images revealed the “stamp” of Godard.
Within days however, Godard’s producer, cinematographer, sound engineer and editor, Fabrice Aragno, reported in a tweet that the film was a fake. Mediapart, the French paper famous for its tenacious investigative methods, and monopoly on leaks, published an article with the “real names” of the filmmakers. This was swiftly retracted and replaced with the mysterious claim that the film was made “by a collective.” Total confusion in the cinema world: was it a canular, a fake? Embarrassed, Cahiers du Cinéma quickly deleted its Facebook post about the film, but others continued to believe: after all, in 2014 and 2015, the inscrutable filmmaker discreetly released two films on YouTube.2
The next day, following this intriguing debacle and having refused to appear at Cannes, Godard appeared at his press conference via FaceTime.3 In a striking mise-en-abyme, the television network Canal+ filmed international journalists with iPhones who, in turn, filmed the screen of another iPhone displaying Godard’s image as he spoke of … images. About five minutes in, a journalist presses him: “How do you feel, coming back to Cannes, fifty years on from 1968?” He speaks off topic. She insists: “And May ’68?” Godard, as if in a trance, in a quavering voice, the frame of his iPhone also trembling, enunciates:
About May ’68? It’s something pleasant, you know. I think, once, my films had 100,000 viewers. And then, all at once, a lot fewer. And so I think perhaps in the whole world in 50 or 100 years, they’ll have 100,000 again. And this 100,000 came to be the number of young people who were at the death, the death of Pierre Overney. And there you go, what I remember of ’68. And of Gilles Tautin as well. And today the Zadists. There you go. Thank you.
With this string of elliptically collected reflections, Godard collapses the declining viewing public for his films—which began around the end of his “new wave” period in ’67 with the films La Chinoise and Weekend, and the beginning of his “militant period” in ’68—with a public connected to the death of Pierre Overney, a young activist and Maoist who, while on strike outside the Renault factory in Paris that he had been fired from, was shot dead by a security guard in 1972. Gilles Tautin, similarly, was a high school student from outside of Paris, who, at a demonstration in 1968 with and in support of the strikers of a Renault factory, was chased into the Seine by police where he drowned. Is the 100,000-strong public that mourned these deaths the same one that fled the cinema in the wake of ’68? Or is it that, before ’68, to be young was going to New Wave movies, and afterwards it was going to funerals for people killed on picket lines? Apart from Tautin, the events and movements that Godard conjures through his own FaceTime close-up are all events surrounding May ’68: they indicate changes in experience that happened through May ’68 rather than celebrating or isolating the month itself. Godard’s next phrase, “And today the Zadists,” follows this anachronism. Are the Zadists what Godard remembers of ’68? Is ’68 what Godard remembers of the Zadists? It’s hard to draw definite conclusions from his sequential and wavering memories here, but certainly a lineage is drawn. In any case what he remembers of ’68 is not what the journalist wanted to know. It has nothing to do with Cannes.
As Godard suggests here, May ’68 is also now a question of cultural memory. In their open letter, the Cinéastes avec la Zad draw on this idea and pull it in two directions. On the one hand, they write, to defend the ZAD is to defend the memory of ’68 against its “petrification” in museum cases, and on the other, it is to defend the contemporary struggles for the civil rights of migrants, against austerity measures, and against police violence in contemporary France today. This concerns Macron and French cultural institutions in as much as it rejects the attempt to recuperate and absorb the memory of ’68 through official state conferences, countless exhibitions, talks, and parties. And it concerns Macron because it is against his neoliberal policies and authoritarianism that people are protesting. And why does Macron want to evict the ZAD anyway? As Kristin Ross states: “I think it’s a kind of show of force on the part of Macron. The strong state. It strikes me as highly authoritarian: there was no necessity for this.”
The writers of the open letter play with the idea of the false/true film, saying from the get-go that whether or not the film was Godard’s work matters “very little” to them. Embracing his (Brechtian) text, “What is to be done?,” first published in translation in English in 1970, they begin their argument with a citation:
We must make political films.
We must make films politically.
The authors write that the truth of the (possibly fake) film they have heard lies in the call to support the ZAD. They go on to defend the ZAD for its “imaginary” and “experimental” character, linking the zone more firmly to the specific prerogatives and imperatives of cinema. Ross comments that, through the process of fighting against the airport, the Zadists found out what they were for: experimental and collective ways of farming and living: “The state was forced to back down because of the tenacious opposition of a very eclectic group of people… The state has no plans for this land. They aren’t going to build the airport, and instead they are trying to take it from the people that managed to protect it for all these years.”
Following Ross’s idea of experimentation, the open letter cites a final, surreal, and unusual phrase of Godard’s: “36. To carry out 2 is to use images and sounds as lips and teeth to bite with.” Thus, the writers “zbeuilifient” the order of bodies and senses: “[Let’s] position ourselves with our eyes, look with our feet. . . . We, filmmakers, call on ourselves to bite, to film, and to defend this territory.”
https://www.versobooks.com/blogs/3750-kristin-ross-the-zadistes-have-created-a-way-of-managing-their-own-affairs-why-should-they-leave(accessed 6.15.2018)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J00IVFS_u3A and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J00IVFS_u3A
https://youtu.be/T7zHGiIVjXQ?t=5m51s
Rona Lorimer
is a writer and lives in Paris.
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Startup Package
SaaS Agreements
Seed Round
Startup Law Blog
New York Will Regulate Bitcoin Startups Despite Inherent Flaws
By Steven BuchwaldFebruary 3, 2014Internet Law
Bitcoin investors want clarity, but clarity won’t come from New York State. On the contrary, even the wisest regulation that the New York State Department of Financial Services (NYDFS) could draft would do very little to clarify bitcoin startups’ legal obligations. The reason is simple, unlike a mom and pop shop, bitcoin startups are not local creatures. The opposite is true. One of bitcoin’s great benefits is its ability to facilitate transactions between remote actors. There is some irony to the fact that a state seeks regulation over an instrument whose very essence transcends interstate and international boundaries – bitcoin being the first truly international crypto-currency.
Clarity is Desirable but Won’t Come From New York
Once New York steps in, other states will follow. Complying with inconsistent licensing requirements from up to 50 states will be extremely burdensome. It is one thing to submit for review your financial and transactional data to one entity, it is another to comply with a unique sets of operational procedures from 50 different states.
As Marco Santori, Chairman of the Bitcoin Foundation said, state licensing requirements could “cost [bitcoin startups] millions of dollars in attorneys’ fees, ongoing bond dues, and application costs.” “Differing standards and licensing regimes from one jurisdiction to another can rapidly raise costs. Costs that are manageable for national and international firms can be prohibitive for firms that have yet to achieve scale,” he said in his testimony at the New York Hearing.
“It’s important to recognize that many of these companies are going to be two-, three-, four-person companies and that’s very different from JP Morgan Chase,” according to Fred Wilson of Union Square Ventures.
State licensing schemes once erected, would function as potent barriers to entry, diminishing the competitive landscape while burdening existing bitcoin startups with heavy legal obligations.
[pullquote]States are institutionally incompetent to regulate international crypto-currencies[/pullquote]
Although regulatory clarity would be nice, such clarity cannot, by definition, come from New York. States are institutionally incompetent to regulate international crypto-currencies. Only the federal government has the ability of injecting some clarity by creating a national regulatory system. However, the federal government, through one of its agency, has signaled that it is up to the states to come up with the meat and potatoes of bitcoin regulation.
A New York License to Do What?
It is now clear that New York will regulate bitcoin startups this year.
“Ultimately, it’s our expectation that the information we’ve gathered in this fact-finding effort will allow us to put forward, during the course of 2014, a proposed regulatory framework for virtual currency firms operating in New York” Superintendent Lawsky said.
Once FinCEN, a US Treasury agency, elected to classify bitcoin exchanges as ‘money transmitters’, it logically followed that states, such as New York, would step in. Indeed, traditional money transmitters (think Western Union) are subject to federal regulations, the broad strokes, and state licenses, which fills in the details and ensure compliance. It is unfortunate, that states, not the federal government, will regulate bitcoin simply because of the awkward classification of bitcoin exchange within the preexisting framework of ‘money transmitter.’
Advantages of New York Regulation
For all the disadvantages likely to follow, some good will come of New York Bitlicense scheme. For one, tighter regulation will likely purify the market of many of its undesirable elements – criminal activities will be significantly limited. Second, regulation also means wider confidence in, and acceptance of, the digital-currency. Third, the New York regulation can serve as a laboratory for policy experimentation, and a possible blueprint for a federal law that would eventually preempt the New York scheme.
photo credit: btckeychain
BitcoinBitcoin RegulationNew York Hearings
40 Wall Street, 28th Floor New York, New York 10005
DMCA Safe Harbor Explained: Why Your Website Needs a DMCA/Copyright Policy August 1, 2017
Pre-Money Vs. Post-Money Valuations: Understanding Startup Valuation July 24, 2017
7 Questions to Ask Before Issuing Stock Options to Your Employees July 17, 2017
What Legal Services Do You Need at the 3 Stages of Early Entrepreneurial Growth? June 27, 2017
Copyright vs Trademark. Differences between Copyright and Trademark March 22, 2017
© 2020 Buchwald & Associates. This website contains attorney advertising. The website content is for general informational purposes only and is not legal advice.
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Five Spot / Quick hitters on the light side
Published Mon, Dec 26, 2011
1. FOLLOW THE LEADER
An orange-striped tabby cat that ran away from its home in Florida has been found -- more than 2,000 miles away on a snowy street in Colorado, according to The Associated Press.
So what's the big deal?
Just another Tim Tebow follower.
2. BOWLS FOR 20, ALEX
Which team has not won a Rose Bowl since Woodrow Wilson was the president? (Hint: the school is playing in the game next week.)
-- Washington & Jefferson
-- Harvard
-- Oregon
-- Columbia
-- Northwestern
3. FLEECED
A man was arrested in South Dakota for passing $20 bills that were low-tech color photocopies, according to Sioux Falls police.
It was the worst case of forgery, experts say, since the Astros tried to pass off their club as a major-league team.
4. LOSING THEIR WAY
Drivers reported having to dodge a reindeer last week on an Ohio highway before a patrolman was able to harness the animal, which had fallen from the back of a truck.
Those who witnessed it said they haven't seen anything so out of its league since the Cleveland Browns' last game.
5. DON'T CLEAN YOUR PLATE
The United Kingdom Anti-Doping Association has warned athletes that eating liver can increase the risk of testing positive for clenbuterol, an anabolic agent.
Why stop there, kids around the world are asking. What about broccoli and Brussels sprouts?
-- Scott Hanson, Seattle Times
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Page Six (website)
What They Voted For: Trump Family Values
#familyvalues | #WhatTheyVotedFor
Ah! scandal! Or, via Page Six:
Years before Vanessa Trump filed for divorce from Donald Trump Jr., their marriage was rocked when—around the time she was pregnant with their third child—he cheated on her with a contestant from “The Celebrity Apprentice.”
Page Six has exclusively learned that Don Jr.—then a so-called “adviser” on the NBC show—fell for busty Danity Kane star Aubrey O’Day while filming “Celebrity Apprentice” in 2011.
Sources say that Vanessa—who filed for divorce from President Donald Trump’s eldest son last week after 13 years of marriage—was devastated when he told her that he planned to leave her for O’Day.
Vanessa was pregnant with their third child, Tristan, around that time.
That was yesterday; the New York Post gossip team rolls on, today asking, “Is Aubrey O’Day’s song ‘DJT’ about Donald Trump Jr.?”
What will the post-presidential reality show be called? Trump Family Scandals? Trump Shore? The Real Assholes of Manhattan? The Ballad of “Donny Smalls”?
Additionally, it is worth noting that apparently we now must give a damn about who Aubrey O’Day is. That is to say, branded celebrity is easy enough to avoid until it isn’t, and the crossing of such thresholds ought to count for something.
Image note: Donald Trump, Jr. (Photo: Manish Swarup/AP Photo, File)
Bacardi, Francesca. “Is Aubrey O’Day’s song ‘DJT’ about Donald Trump Jr.?”. Page Six. 20 March 2018.
Coleman, Oli and Carlos Greer. “Donald Trump Jr. romanced Aubrey O’Day during marriage to Vanessa”. Page Six. 19 March 2018.
Posted in #TrumpSwindle, #wellduh, #WhatTheyVotedFor, Beltway, Business, Celebrity (culture), Christian supremacism, Christianity, Conservative, Corporate/Business Culture, Ethics, Family, History, Media (culture), Parenthood, People, Politics, Psychology, Purity/Family Values (culture), Religion, Republicans, Television, White House and tagged #DonnySmalls, adultery, adviser, assholes, Aubrey O'Day, branded celebrity, cheated, conservative family values, Dannity Kane (band), divorce, DJT (song), Donald Trump Jr., Dumblonde (band), extramarital affair, family values, gossip, Manhattan, Manish Swarup/AP Photo, manufactured band, MTV, MTV band, NBC, Page Six (website), reality television, The Celebrity Apprentice (TV), The New York Post, Trump family scandals, Trump family values, Vanessa Trump on 2018.03.20 by bd. Leave a comment
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Stronger (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By Britney Spears]
Whatever You Like (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By Nicole Scherzinger]
For a Change (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By Neal McCoy]
Scream If You Want to Go Faster (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By Geri Halliwell]
Love Will Keep Us Together (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By Captain & Tennille]
You Can't Make a Heart Love Somebody (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By George Strait]
Get On Up (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By Jodeci]
Does Fort Worth Ever Cross Your Mind (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By George Strait]
I Know She Still Loves Me (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By George Strait]
So Much Like My Dad (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By George Strait]
River of Love (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By George Strait]
Trick of Tail (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By Genesis]
Longer (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By Dan Fogelberg]
Dance for Me (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By Mary J. Blige]
Leaning On a Lampost (Karaoke Version) [Originally Performed By George Formby]
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Home News Huawei Watch GT 2 Set to Launch on September 19
Huawei Watch GT 2 Set to Launch on September 19
Anmol Sachdeva -
Anmol Sachdeva
Alongside the launch of its next flagship smartphone – Mate 30 Pro, the Chinese giant has today revealed that it will also unveil the Huawei Watch GT 2 in Munich on September 19. This will be a successor to the original Watch GT, which debuted beside the previous Mate flagship back in October last year.
Huawei confirmed the launch of the Watch GT 2 via an official Weibo post, which you can find attached below. It carries a teaser video which confirms that the smartwatch will be powered by Huawei’s newly announced Kirin A1 chip for wearables. It shows that the design will be pretty similar to the first-gen Watch GT, but leaks suggest that we can expect a slimmer body a larger display onboard.
Further, the Huawei Watch GT touted an impressive battery life of up to 30 days on a single charge on standby. Its successor will build on this legacy and is expected to sport slightly larger 445mAh battery as compared to the 420mAh battery inside the Watch GT.
The watch will most likely continue to use stainless steel, ceramic bezels, and the dual-crown design for interactions. It will again have onboard GPS for fitness tracking on the move without a smartphone. New additions in the mix will be a speaker and microphone, which will allow you to make calls but it would require LTE support and that hasn’t been confirmed as of now.
The leaks also suggest that Huawei Watch GT 2 will be launched in 2 variants, i.e Classic and Sport. We will have to wait until next week for official details, along with the pricing and availability details.
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The Simplicity of Kenley Jansen and October Bullpens
by August Fagerstrom
Baseball can be such a complex game. We’ve got radars and cameras that track every movement on the field and spit out massive data sets at the conclusion of each contest. We’ve got run-expectancy simulators and lineup optimizers and a tool that allows one to search any combination of season, game, split, event, and streak stats from any player in any number of years dating back more than a century. We love baseball due in part to its layers of intricacies; there’s something for everyone, and no two fans share an identical relationship with the sport. At its core, baseball, to the observer, serves as nothing more than a distraction, and the complexity of the game affords those observers a seemingly infinite supply of secondary distractions when the primary one is insufficient.
Baseball can be such a simple game. Sometimes, even with all the information at the disposal of the coaches and players, it can be best not to overthink things. Important moment? Bring in the best pitcher. Bring in the best pitcher, the way Dave Roberts did with Kenley Jansen with two men on and no outs in the bottom of the seventh of an NLDS Game 5, facing elimination. Got a good pitch? Throw that pitch. Throw that pitch 39 out of 47 times, the way Jansen did with his cutter to carve up the Nationals for 2.1 erratic but effective innings.
Jansen’s decisions with the cutter were nothing out of the ordinary — he threw his cutter 83% of the time last night, he threw his cutter 88% of the time during the regular season — but there was something about his outing, something about the way that he works in a near-state of perpetual motion, that brought a sort of calming beauty to an otherwise hectic and turbulent affair. A 4-hour, 32-minute game which featured a 66-minute seventh inning, a 13-pitch walk, 11 pitching changes, and, eventually, a moment of triumph. And in the middle of all that was a 29-year-old former catcher from Curaçao, standing on the pitcher’s mound in the middle of a whirlwind in perhaps the biggest moment of his career, just throwing cutter after cutter.
Maybe my favorite quote of the year came from Dodgers catcher Yasmani Grandal in a pregame NLDS media session last week. Grandal was asked about Jansen, and about what allows him to get five-out saves and thrive in high-pressure situations. Grandal responded, simply, “98-mph cutter.” The reporter apparently wasn’t satisfied, and began on with a follow-up question, “Anything about his mentality–” Grandal cut the reporter off. “No,” Grandal replied. “98-mph cutter.” It’s such a stark contrast from what reporters want to hear out of players when we ask them a question, yet at the same time, it’s perfect. There’s substantial meaning behind Grandal’s brevity. By saying nothing, he’s saying everything. With some guys, it doesn’t need to be difficult. We don’t need to sit around and ponder about Jansen’s mental makeup or his will to win or any of that sort of thing, because, you see, he throws a 98-mph cutter, and that alone is what qualifies him for his job, and that makes him unlike anyone else, and that makes him the best.
Imagine being a manager, and desperately needing an out, and looking out at the pitcher you currently have on the mound, and realizing that he doesn’t throw a 98-mph cutter. “We’d have a better chance to get this out if that guy were throwing 98-mph cutters,” you might think to yourself. And then imagine realizing that you actually have a guy that throws 98-mph cutters, and there’s literally nothing in Major League Baseball’s official rulebook that prevents you from bringing him in at any time you wish. What do you do? You bring in the guy who throws 98-mph cutters to get the outs!
So even though it was the seventh inning, Roberts went and summoned Jansen, because, well, y’know, and after a couple of outs and a single and a strategic intentional walk, Jansen found himself with the bases loaded and Anthony Rendon at the plate.
For the first pitch, he threw him a cutter:
After that, he chose to give him a cutter:
Once that was over with, he went with the cutter:
And then for good measure, he decided to show him the cutter:
Kenley Jansen and the Dodgers worked their way out of this inning for precisely two reasons. Two very simple, easy-to-understand reasons, amidst a sea of chaos:
Because of that pitch he throws — you know the one.
Because Dave Roberts put Kenley Jansen into the game.
If Terry Francona built the casket for traditional October bullpen usage by bringing Andrew Miller into the fifth inning and letting him throw 40 pitches in Game 1 of the ALDS, Roberts might have put the nail through it by bringing Jansen into the seventh and letting him throw 47 pitches (plus four for an intentional walk) last night.
I watched this game with a group of sportswriters, and when Roberts summoned Jansen in the seventh for what would have been a nine-out save, I wondered aloud whether Roberts would have made that move at all if not for Francona’s recent usage of Miller and the praise it received. Opinions were mixed. What we all agreed on, though, is that, regardless of what may or may not have influenced the decision, we were glad it was happening. Long live the new-age bullpen.
Not every team has the guy with the 98-mph cutter, so it can’t always be this smooth. But if a team has made it this far, they’ve got some version of that guy. They’ve got the guy with the 103-mph fastball, or the guy with the stupid slider, or the 21-year-old with the so-unlike-a-21-year-old numbers. Everyone left has the guy with the 98-mph cutter, in one form or another. Everyone left has the guy who can make the endlessly complicated game so, so simple.
We hoped you liked reading The Simplicity of Kenley Jansen and October Bullpens by August Fagerstrom!
Don’t Blame This on Dusty Baker
“Pitch” Episode 4: #PutHerInTheGame
August used to cover the Indians for MLB and ohio.com, but now he's here and thinks writing these in the third person is weird. So you can reach me on Twitter @AugustFG_ or e-mail at august.fagerstrom@fangraphs.com.
Baseball Randy
The giants don’t have anyone like that.
Javedd1993
And the Giants are no longer in it.
Doorknob11
If you mean somebody that throws a nonfastball almost all the time they have Romo!
JediHoyer
Didn’t Baez get a hit off 100 mph fastball?
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Top 20 Hottest Ginger Pornstars Of 2019
Published by rokr at December 20, 2019
The world of ginger pornstars might not be the largest, but those who are in the adult industry are out of this world. While we know how much you secretly like ginger-haired and redhead adult actresses in general, we compiled a list of the best performers.
The horny, raunchy and full of sex appeal women are always down for some kinky fun. Some of them like to do some really wild and wicked things while other ginger pornstars enjoy doing solo and girl-girl sex scenes the most. We like them all, and we have them here for you to enjoy, too. Even if you just started experiencing pornographic content and you might not be too familiar with all the names, this is a great way for you to start.
To be entirely honest with you, it was not the easiest, coming up with the best in the genre. Of course, I do not know all these ladies off the top of my head. I needed to quickly search the web to find them.
Sure, I might know a ton about porn, but I am no IAFD!
Anyhow, some porn fans like this and the other Smut enthusiasts like that, but there are the third ones who like just about everything. The latter are few and far between. Why I am even speaking about this? When it comes to adult actresses with ginger hair, these are few, too.
By the way, did you ever wondered if natural gingers also have pubic hair of the same color? I am a lucky person and got a chance to see it myself once. They, do! Now, you get to see if they do or not, too. And if their bushes are of different color, you probably already know what that means.
Anyhow, it’s time to enjoy the ladies.
The hottest and sexiest ginger pornstars
Jayden Cole is one hell of a ginger hottie that will blow you away with all and every scene that she produces. Guess where the somewhat exotic looks come from? Jayden is part Lebanese and part Irish. Moreover, she was born in Huntington Beach, California, on October 9, 1985. That fantastic and all-natural frame gets the juices flowing right from the get-go. Whether Jayden is wearing clothes or fully naked, she knows damn well how to seduce everyone. You will find Jayden Cole perform in some of the steamiest lesbian sex scenes that you should not miss checking out. Get involved now and make a difference.
Instagram: instagram.com/missjaydencole/
Twitter: twitter.com/jaydencole
If you are looking for the hottest ginger pornstars, you, most certainly, should not miss Lacy Lennon. This babe is to die for and you know it just by checking her out on the image above. Young Lacy was born on January 23, 1997, in North Carolina. Fun fact, she went to school to study opera; however, she later discovered her real talent, which is having sex in front of the camera. Big cocks, juicy pussies, yes, that’s what truly turns Lacy on. Once you see her, you will notice the glamorous look that Lacy Lennon sports. But things go into an entirely different direction once she climbs on a thick cock and rides it like it would be the last thing she does in her life.
For all the daring ones out there, Alexxa Vice is the one lady that will get you wild and wicked. With her tattooed and pierced body, big boobs and an incredible ass, this UK slut gives you all and everything you would expect from an alt ginger porn superstar. You better not miss any of her ridiculously hot XXX scenes, as they are all a must-see. Whether it is the first ever porn scene Alexxa shot or the most recent one, she never disappoints. In short, Alexxa is a pack of supreme assets and talents that will take your breath away.
Instagram: instagram.com/alexxa_vice_irl_/
Twitter: twitter.com/alexxavice
Maitland Ward is no ordinary pornstar with ginger hair. In fact, she was once a popular blogger and a mainstream actress. Eventually, her horny personality made Maitland start to produce her own adult content before she took the plunge and went all-in. Nowadays, Maitland is turning heads both in the mainstream world and the adult entertainment industry. Moreover, Maitland Ward is also pretty tall for a pornstar, standing at 5’11”; however, that only emphasizes her sexiness and large, fake boobs. If you are a Maitland first-timer, you better do yourself a favor and enjoy yourself in some of her sexy fuck action that will blow you away.
Instagram: instagram.com/maitlandward/
Twitter: twitter.com/maitlandward
A Scottish lady, Jennifer Keelings, is all about fun and sex. This tattooed babe started as a stripper soon after turning eighteen. Later, she appeared on live TV and, finally, went to the US to attend AVN Awards. From then on, all the rest was history. Jennifer got hooked on the idea of becoming part of the porn business. She decided to do whatever it takes to enter the Smut business. First, she worked as a professional makeup artist but later decided to try herself in front of the camera, too. What to say, Jennifer is a ginger pornstar who knows darn well what makes men (and women) go crazy.
Instagram: instagram.com/jenniferkeellingsmakeup/
Twitter: twitter.com/jennkeellings
Molly Stewart was born on November 5, 1991, without knowing that she will ever fuck for money. However, when she was growing older, she was getting hornier and hornier. She might be of geeky personality, however, her passion for massaging her clit and getting a dildo deep inside her pussy made her start shooting kinky videos. From solo masturbation scenes to outstanding lesbian sex sessions, Molly Stewart does it all and then some. You are doing something wrong if you are not already checking out this ginger pornstar in action, experiencing a volcanic orgasm in front of the lens for you.
Instagram: instagram.com/thisredheadissfw/
Twitter: twitter.com/callmemissmolly
Ella Hughes is a young British hottie who knows how to play with herself, with big dicks and wet pussies in front of the lens. She was born on June 12, 1995, in Southampton, and she screams with elegance and glamour. This ginger pornstar gets the juices going with nothing but a deep look straight into your eyes. However, watch Ella Hughes undress and you will feel on top of the world. This lady got herself into the adult entertainment industry in 2014, after doing a variety of different types of modeling. It seems like posing for the camera started to bore her, so Ella decided to go all in and replace posing for fucking. And that was a spectacular decision Ella made!
Penny Pax is a sweet looking ginger porn star. Born in Miami, she worked for several years as a lifeguard before she started working in adult films. Penny starred in The Submission of Emma Marx (2013), which is kind of based on Fifty Shades of Grey, for which she was nominated for several awards and won the Best Actress Feature Award from XCritic. Penny has starred in other films since then and has caught the attention of critics and horny fanboys alike. She is a fan favorite because of her sweet and girl next door look, which makes her scenes look so much hotter.
Lauren Phillips is not your typical pornstar. With her tall stature, she looks like a sex goddess come to life. Lauren is very athletic, something that is not surprising because she used to be a professional dancer. That also means that Lauren is quite flexible, which is actually perfect when she has to do scenes where she would be bending or stretching out her legs for most of the time. Not something you see on a daily basis. Starting out as a camgirl, Lauren quickly became famous that she was given opportunities to do adult films. All the time that Phillips spent training as a dancer is paying off as she can perform splits during porn scenes.
Twitter: twitter.com/laurenfillsup
Janet Mason has a claim to the title of the original redhead MILF on the internet. She has been online since 1998 and she’s as hot as ever. Janet also has an edge over the other ginger pornstars out there and it is the fact that Janet is a real-life swinger. That means after a hard and long day of working on the set, she gets to come to her hubby and they will probably do some hard fucking. With other folks, of course. That makes her scenes so much hotter to her fans. She and her husband have been running her personal website for 20 years now! Can you imagine? Another huge reason why Janet is so popular is because she has a pair of amazing 32DD titties.
Twitter: twitter.com/janetmasonxxx
Does the carpet match with the drapes? That’s one of the most common questions that a redhead has to face. As one of the top ginger pornstars today, Dani Jensen has been answering that question on behalf of all her natural redheaded sisters out there. You can see that her pubes are really the same color as her hair when she’s doing her scenes. Dani started out as a stripper in California before transitioning to the adult film industry. Her worked has evolved into more refined and raunchier stuff. Dani took a hiatus from making porn back in 2014 to get an associate degree but now that she is back, fans can expect some really hot action from this ginger-haired bombshell.
Lilith Lust
When you see a picture of Lilith Lust all dressed pretty and nice, you get the impression that she’s the kind of girl you would be proud to take home to your parents. She’s got that sweet girly look. Looks can be deceiving though. Just take a look at Lilith’s plump ass and explosive breasts and you know that she’s always ready for some action. Ever since she made her first adult movie as an adult performer, Lilith has been turning heads and making dicks hard everywhere. Her Twitter profile now says that she is retired, good thing that we have her past work to jerk… to look back to.
Instagram: instagram.com/lilith_lust2.0/
Twitter: twitter.com/xxxlilithlust
Nikki Rhodes has that magically sweet appeal which makes her really stand out as a ginger girl. Don’t let her sweet looks fool you though, Nikki is a real slut and she loves nothing more than having a long thick cock sliding in and out of her creamy pussy with a perfectly trimmed ginger bush. She’s a real nympho and in 2009 she took home AVN’s Most Outrageous Sex Scene Award. You have to see that one to believe it. When Nikki is not getting her pussy pounded on the set, Nikki spends her time doing some artwork. She is also quite brainy, she even skipped a few years when she was in school.
Twitter: twitter.com/missnikkirhodes
Do you feel like there are not enough ginger pornstars out there? The good news is that there are up and coming starlets like Alex Tanner ready to satisfy your fantasies. If redheaded pornstars are what you are after to get your dick up, then Alex a fresh face to go for. Starting out her adult film career in 2014, Alex is already a veteran in the industry and she shows that with the confident way that she expreses her charisma when she’s doing her scenes. But when Alex is not shooting some hot scenes, she loves to party at the beach with her friends. Whether on the set or outside, she loves her share of rough sex.
Twitter: twitter.com/alextannerxxx
Justine Joli
Starting her career by working in men’s magazines in the early 2000s, Justine Joli soon became a fan favorite. She appeared on the cover of Hustler and became the Pet of the Month for Penthouse. Justine soon started appearing in adult movies. As a porn performer pornstar, Justine is known for her outstanding girl-girl scenes. She has also appeared solo as a fetish model or in masturbation scenes. In 2015, Justine announced that she is retiring from making adult films, but she has since said that she is making a comeback. On her Twitter profile, Justine said that she’s coming back to do some BDSM things. Are you ready?
Twitter: twitter.com/justinejoli
Petite, with a cute tiny mouth and beautiful blue eyes, Marie McCray is a adorable looking and lovely girl. Don’t let first impressions fool you because she’s one of the naughtiest ginger pornstars out there. As a natural redhead, Marie knows how to excite all ginger fans out there by leaving a small ginger fuzz to accentuate her tight pussy. Marie has natural tight breasts and a tight little ass and her smooth skin is lightly freckled and turns pink while she’s being spanked and a long hard cock is sliding in and out of her twat.
Twitter: twitter.com/mariemccrayxxx
There are few ginger pornstars out there who have the same amount of experience as Audrey Hollander. Born in 1979, this curly redhead has appeared in over 400 productions, starting with her debut in More Dirty Debutantes 268. She’s also tried her hand in co-directing with the Otto and Audrey Destroy the World series of adult films. Audrey had also won the Female Performer of the Year Award from AVN in 2006. After a brief leave of absence, she announced her return to full-time performing in 2012. Now, fans get to enjoy more of her sweet juicy vagina in some of the hottest XXX scenes today.
Twitter: twitter.com/realaudreyxxx
Known as the “The Bettie Page of the 1990s”, Darla Crane has been making dicks hard for more than two decades now. She started out by being a softcore bondage model. Thankfully, Darla moved on to making hardcore adult films and is now one of the most iconic ginger pornstars out there. This busty MILF is a bisexual that enjoys her work a great deal and you can see that with every scene that Darla makes. Her pink nipples and slightly freckled light skin prove that she’s a natural redhead. Darla has a lot of hobbies but by far, her favorite pastime is being fucked.
Twitter: twitter.com/darla_crane
Known as the faerie porn princess, Krystal Orchid is your fantasy come true. She’s an innocent looking ginger pornstar who still wears braces. She actually films adult film scenes as part of exploring her own sexuality. That’s why you can see the sincere joy and pleasure that Krystal has in each and every scene that she does. Krystal is very active on social media and also does shows on live sex webcam on her website. When she’s not being fucked for a scene or playing with her pussy in front of her camera, Krystal spends her time studying and doing some nerdy pursuits.
Bianca Resa
If you like a naughty and nice combination when it comes to your ginger pornstars, then Bianca Resa should get your dick hard right away. This Spanish MILF started out late when it comes to making adult films. She appeared in her first scene when Bianca was 31, but that doesn’t take away anything from her. This lovely European is always cheerful and she has a reputation for being fun on the set, especially when she has a fat penis stuffing her tight pussy. Bianca’s steamy sex appeal and perky natural boobs have made her a well-liked woman among MILF lovers.
Instagram: instagram.com/biancaresa
Twitter: twitter.com/bianca_resa
15+ Craziest BDSM Scenes By Top Pornstars 2020
16 Most Popular BBC Pornstars 2020
LeraB says:
I am sorry, but Jia Lissa is above the top 🙂
AJ4086 says:
Andi James is redhead & she is hot, stacked and a looker. Why isn’t on this list?
rokr says:
Do you have any cool ginger jokes to share?
Q: What do you call it when a redhead goes off the deep end?
A: A ginger snap.
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We're proud to introduce our team of highly experienced coaches! Coming from a variety of professional backgrounds, all have graduated from an accredited Coach training program, and are certified in behavioral style analysis and interpretation.
Pricing for Coaching Services
You are encouraged to review their profiles and select the right coach for you.
Alvah Parker
Work/Life Coach
"I believe every person has his/her own unique gifts to give. I aid my clients to identify their gifts and find ways to use these gifts in their work and personal lives. I move my clients to action in a way that is supportive, validating, and practical."
People changing careers or jobs
More About Alvah
Lisa Andrews
"I feel it is important to help each person identify the unique abilities, skills, and values they have to offer. I also give my clients two things they need in a successful job search: confidence, and hope. It can be a challenging process, and I'm there to support them as they are transitioning."
Entry level professionals.
Mid-level managers.
C-Suite executives.
Career changers.
Veterans and their spouses.
More About Lisa
Lenore Mewton
"Bring WHO you are to WHAT that you do" -- that phrase embodies my belief that an individual's internal qualities are their external advantage. As a partner, guide, teacher, and change agent, my goal is to help you discover your greatest ally, your authentic self; be it as an employee, leader, entrepreneur, business person/owner or coach.."
Employees seeking to enhance their careers within organizations
More About Lenore
Dave McKeon
Career & Business Coach
"Coaching is a relationship of equals, where accountability for moving oneself forward lies with the individual being coached, and responsibility for providing the insightful and challenging coaching to support that happening for the client lies with the coach."
Executives and managers
Individuals pursuing career advancement
High achievers working to reach their goals
More About Dave
Georgiana Carollus
"People are often discouraged from pursuing change or improvements in their lives because they judge themselves incapable or their dreams impossible and unattainable. What surprises people is that if they take small steps toward change, their lives unfold with richness, purpose and direction. I help people identify those initial steps and partner with them to create a framework of action to realize their goals and vision."
Individuals wish to enhance or change their careers
Specialize in those in IT, creative, educational, social service and human resource fields
Clients who approach life with a spiritual perspective
More About Georgiana
Harry Rodenhi
Business & Career Coach
"I specialize in supporting professionals who find themselves facing career uncertainties or transitions in the fast-paced and dynamic world of high tech. I use an energetic coaching style to support you in clarifying your values, identifying key strengths & abilities and then using these insights to create a personalized value proposition. This becomes the basis for moving forward in the transition while promoting a more balanced work-life perspective."
Individuals or organizations in transition, especially those in high-tech product/service sectors
Individuals seeking more fulfillment in their lives/relationships or more growth & success in their jobs/careers
More About Harry
"I help people move forward and feel passionate about what they do. Life is too short to not be happy. It is my job to ask the powerful questions to help you succeed."
Individuals who want: career satisfaction, passion in their life and work and are willing to develop a plan and take action!
Association and not-for-profit professionals
Government, military
More About Marshall
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Cartoon Network Blocks, Special Block, Programming Blocks,
Summer Programming Blocks
Cancelled Programming Blocks
Cartoon Network Summer
Awesomeness Incorporated
You're getting warmer! (2005)
Cartoon Network: Yes! (2006)
Camp Cartoon
Summer @ Seven
CN era(s)
CN City
Cartoon Network Summer (also known as Cartoon Summer in 2005) was a Cartoon Network summer celebration that aired during the Summer of 2005 and 2006. It featured the premieres of three new Cartoon Network Original Series (Camp Lazlo, The Life and Times of Juniper Lee, and Squirrel Boy) and the premiere of one new Cartoon Network Original Movie (Operation: Z.E.R.O.).
Cartoon Network characters partying during CN Summer 2006.
In 2005, Cartoon Summer's bumpers were set in CN City, with several characters from Cartoon Network's shows joining together and celebrating summer in a stadium (similar to Woodstock).
In 2006, the bumpers involved a different stage, set in a more urban area of CN City. There were not only CN City bumpers but also Yes! bumpers, which featured CN characters saying and doing random things behind a red background, sometimes accompanied by yellow and white text (similar to an Internet meme). The mascots for this summer were Fred Fredburger (The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy) and Cheese (Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends). The network's slogan during the summer was a simplistic "Cartoon Network: Yes!", as spoken by Fred Fredburger, a character from The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy.
During 2005, Lumpus and Slinkman from Camp Lazlo hosted a block called Lumpus and Slinkman's Cabin Fever that ran from 10:00 AM to 4:00 PM.
Come a little closer, we've got something new, Cartoon Network is the thing, that's gonna keep you cool.
(Let's rock!)
With Puffy, Mandy, Mac and Numbuhs 1, 2, 3. Pleased to meet you Camp Lazlo and Juniper Lee!
(They're new!)
Blossom, Lazlo, Lumpus, Wilt, Shaggy, Scooby-Doo. Eduardo, Ed, Double D, Plank! Billy, Eddy, Bloo!
(Go!)
Coco, Ami, Yumi, Ray Ray, Monroe, Buttercup. Madame Foster, Grim and Dexter, now you know what's up!
(What's up!)
Temperature is rising on Cartoon Network Summer, hot new shows, all for you! Now you're getting warmer!
Bloo: Hey it's summer, with Bloo and Mac and me.
Mac: You're Bloo!
We've got new shows, it's the best place to be!
Eduardo: Aqui!
New Foster's, Puffy, Billy & Mandy, Camp Lazlo. There's new Eds, and Ben 10, and Gym Partner. WHOA!
Kicking it off with a week full of Ben 10! The cool show about super hero aliens.
Bloo: And all I'm saying is, you can't go wrong! With Cartoon Network, all summer long!
Logo used in 2005.
Dexter's Laboratory (re-runs)
Johnny Bravo (re-runs)
The Powerpuff Girls (re-runs)
Courage the Cowardly Dog (re-runs)
Time Squad (re-runs)
The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy
Evil Con Carne (re-runs)
Megas XLR (re-runs)
Justice League Unlimited
Samurai Jack (re-runs)
¡Mucha Lucha!
Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi
The Life and Times of Juniper Lee (premiered May 30, 2005)
Camp Lazlo (premiered July 8, 2005)
Dexter's Laboratory (re-runs on The Cartoon Cartoon Show)
Johnny Bravo (re-runs on The Cartoon Cartoon Show)
The Powerpuff Girls (re-runs on The Cartoon Cartoon Show)
Courage the Cowardly Dog (re-runs on The Cartoon Cartoon Show)
Whatever Happened to... Robot Jones? (re-runs on The Cartoon Cartoon Show)
Evil Con Carne (re-runs on The Cartoon Cartoon Show)
Totally Spies!
Teen Titans (re-runs)
Justice League Unlimited (re-runs)
Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi (ended June 22, 2006) (first run and re-runs)
The Life and Times of Juniper Lee
Camp Lazlo
Xiaolin Showdown
Squirrel Boy (premiered May 27, 2006)
IGPX
Cartoon Network Summer 2005 Bumper Collection, Volume 3
Cartoon Network Tapes - Summer 2006
Cartoon Cartoon Summer
Cartoon Cartoon Weekend Summerfest
Retrieved from "https://cartoonnetwork.fandom.com/wiki/Cartoon_Network_Summer?oldid=101067"
Cartoon Network Blocks
Special Block
More The Cartoon Network Wiki
1 Naruto
2 CN City
3 Noods
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Iowa Governor Chet Culver Campaigning on the Taxpayer Dime?
Matt Schultz: Mauro Wants To Have His Cake and Eat It Too
Chet Culver,
Economic development,
Iowa Gubernatorial Race 2010,
Jack DeCoster,
Terry Branstad,
Wright County Farms
It would be tempting for an incumbent to do this, and former Governor Terry Branstad is calling Governor Chet Culver on doing that very thing. They point out he had only twenty official campaign appearances, but yet traveled the state attacking Governor Branstad. They note Governor Culver’s schedule today that lists five appearances around the state touting I-Jobs that happens to coincide with a campaign commercial released that also touts I-Jobs. This afternoon in a press release they quote him directly from an event that took place in Cedar Rapids:
Reporter: “Is there anything you can do to make sure that something like this egg recall we had doesn’t happen again?”
Culver: “Yes. Make sure we don’t elect Terry Branstad on November 2nd.”
Culver followed this by repeating the same, ridiculous charges regarding Jack DeCoster that he made during last night’s debate.
Governor Culver tried to dismiss the charges, and even though Branstad pointed out the difference it doesn’t look like he plans to change anytime soon. From Eastern Iowa Government:
Culver dismissed the suggestion and called the trip official business…
…“It’s different when you go for a ribbon cutting of a business you brought as opposed to just going around to tout a political program that is obviously the big difference in this campaign,” he said. “That is really a political issue. It is not an economic development issue at this point. He’s out there talking politics. It’s not about working with a community to bring a business or jobs to the community at all.”
Culver doesn’t plan to make any changes in his official appearances.
“I’m going to talk about Branstad and his failed record of the past every day between now and Nov. 2,” he said.
Governor Culver, as long as the taxpayers of Iowa are not footing the bill. If they have, your campaign needs to reimburse the state.
Don't miss a single update.
Stimulus Board Attempt to Shame Tiny Iowa City Shows Faulty Oversight
(Watchdog.org) Volga City, IA – In September 2009, Volga City was awarded a $100,000 grant from…
Paul Brennan
The Truth About Iowa’s Election Integrity Bill
Paul Pate: There have been a lot of distortions & misunderstandings about my Election Integrity bill. My job is to make it easy to vote, but hard to cheat.
Paul Pate
Astroturf Occupy Iowa Movement Finds Another Target
This time it is The World Food Prize: Occupy leader Frank Cordaro…
Iowa GOP Announces 2011 Presidential Debate and Straw Poll
Iowa Republicans to partner with FOX News to host August debate in…
Shane Vander Hart is the founder and…
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Advances in Brief
Invade or Proliferate? Two Contrasting Events in Malignant Behavior Governed by p16INK4a and an Intact Rb Pathway Illustrated by a Model System of Basal Cell Carcinoma
Sofie Svensson, Kristina Nilsson, Anita Ringberg and Göran Landberg
Sofie Svensson
Kristina Nilsson
Anita Ringberg
Göran Landberg
Using a highly infiltrative tumor type as basal cell carcinoma as the model system, we have examined the relation between invasive behavior and proliferation. Our results studying alterations in G1-S cell cycle regulatory proteins and proliferation in infiltrative cells were surprising and clearly indicated that invasion in tumors with an intact p16INK4a-cyclin D-retinoblastoma protein (Rb) pathway was equivalent to ceased proliferation. Using immunohistochemistry and Western blotting of microdissected parts of basal cell carcinomas, we showed that p16INK4a was up-regulated at the invasive front of the majority of basal cell carcinomas with infiltrative growth patterns, followed by ceased proliferation, as well as decreased phosphorylation of Rb. Besides supporting the fact that basal cell carcinomas have an intact Rb pathway, our results clearly indicate that invasive tumor cells change phenotype from a proliferative state to an invasive phenotype. Thus, invasion is not necessarily analogous with proliferation, implicating a paradigm shift in the understanding of two central processes in malignant behavior.
BCC 3 is the most common form of skin cancer with an occasional very aggressive and locally highly infiltrative tumor growth, despite, in general, a lack of metastasizing properties (1 , 2) . Many BCCs have high proliferative activity, as well as distinct areas with infiltrative tumor growth, making BCC a suitable model system for studies of invasion and proliferation control. Cell proliferation is regulated by a family of CDKs that are activated by cyclins, such as cyclins D and E, and inhibited by CDKIs, e.g., p27Kip1, p21Cip1, and p16INK4a (3) . The cell cycle regulator p16INK4a specifically inhibits CDK4/6 and consequently cyclin D-dependent phosphorylation of the Rb (4) , leading to less transcription of E2F-responsive genes necessary for S phase entry (5) . Besides the fact that cell cycle regulators are vital for normal proliferation control, many cell cycle regulatory gene products are further targeted in the transformation process, and the deregulation of the cell cycle is one of the key events in the development of malignancy. Regarding the potential coregulation of invasion and proliferation, there seems to exist a general assumption that invading tumor cells continue to proliferate, with only few reports stating the opposite (6 , 7) . We have earlier reported that small tumor clusters at the invasive front of colorectal cancer have lower proliferation than the tumor cells in larger tumor clusters, supporting that the more actively invading tumor cells indeed have ceased proliferation (8) . In this study, we use BCC as a model system to clarify the proliferative regulation and status of actively invading cells. Our results clearly indicate that infiltrative tumor cells do not actively proliferate and are basically in a resting G0 phase, which is in contrast to the high proliferation observed in the large bulk of tumor cells. We also show that this effect most likely is mediated through an up-regulation of the CDKI p16INK4a and executed through a functional p16INK4a-cyclin D-Rb pathway.
Tumor Materials and Immunohistochemistry.
Forty-seven sporadic occurring BCC samples were used in the study, and all diagnoses were confirmed. Tumors were further divided into three groups depending on their growth pattern and histological invasive appearance: (a) superficial; (b) nodular; and (c) BCC with infiltrative growth pattern. For immunohistochemistry, paraffin sections of 4 μm were deparaffinized using xylen and rehydrated using descending concentrations of ethanol according to standard protocol. For the antibodies antihuman p16INK4a (1:200; BD PharMingen, San Jose, CA), antihuman Ki-67 antigen (1:200; DAKO A/S, Glostrup, Denmark), and antihuman phospho-Rb (1:150; Cell Signaling Technology, Beverly, MA), antigen retrieval was achieved using 10 mm citrate buffer at pH 6.0 and microwave treatment. Single staining was performed in a DAKO Techmate 500 and all double staining in a Ventana Benchmark (Ventana Medical Systems, Inc., Tucson, AZ), according to the manufacturer’s instructions. The p16INK4a staining was confirmed with an additional antihuman p16INK4a antibody (1:100; Alexis Biochemicals, Lausen, Switzerland) using a Target retrieval solution S-3307 (DAKO; pH 8.2) at 98°C for 45 min and a DAKO Catalyzed Signal Amplification System, Peroxidase, K1500, according to the manufacturer’s instructions.
Immunohistochemical stainings were independently evaluated twice. p16INK4a-positive staining toward the epidermis (ulceration), at the nodular invasive front, and in irregularly branching strands of infiltrative tumor cells was considered (Table 1) ⇓ . The association between proliferation (Ki-67) and p16 was detailed in 10 BCCs using serial sections, and 9 of these BCCs were further evaluated using p16 and Ki-67 double staining. In each of these 9 sections, the number of Ki-67-positive cells per 200 p16INK4a-positive and 200 -negative cells, respectively, was denoted. The relation between Rb, Ki-67, and p16INK4a was evaluated in 12 different BCCs using serial sections. Three representative tumors were selected, and Ki-67- and Rb-positive cells were counted in three areas with high p16INK4a content and three areas with low p16INK4a content per BCC.
Results from the evaluation of the immunohistochemical straining in basal cell carcinomas
Western Blotting.
The MDA-MB-468 breast cancer cell line (American Type Culture Collection, Rockville, MD) used as a p16INK4a-positive control was grown in RPMI 1640, supplemented with 10% FCS, 18 units/ml penicillin, and 8 μg/ml streptomycin. Protein extracts from the cell line and tumors were prepared as described earlier (9) . Briefly, tumors were collected immediately after surgery, and areas corresponding to BCC were homogenized and sonicated for 2 × 15 s in lysis buffer, supplemented with the protease inhibitor cocktail Complete Mini (Roche, Mannheim, Germany), and kept on ice for 30 min. For electrophoresis, 30 μg of protein per lane were run on a 12% SDS-PAGE, followed by transfer to a nitrocellulose membrane Hybond ECL (Amersham Pharmacia Biotech, Buckinghamshire, United Kingdom). The membranes were probed with antihuman p16INK4a (1:1000; BD PharMingen), antihuman cyclin A2 (1:350, BD Transduction Laboratories), or antihuman actin (1:1000; Santa Cruz Biotechnology, Inc., Santa Cruz, CA) antibodies, followed by peroxidase-conjugated antimouse (1:10000; Amersham Life Science, Alesbury, United Kingdom) or antigoat (1:10000; Sigma) antibodies. The proteins were detected by an ECL detection system plus (ECL+ plus) reagent (Amersham Pharmacia Biotech), according to the manufacturer’s instructions, and exposed on ECL Hyper Film (Amersham Pharmacia Biotech).
Microdissection for Western Blotting and Flow Cytometry.
Central regions of BCC samples were instantly frozen in liquid nitrogen directly after surgery, and serial sections of 8 μm, then two 200 μm, followed by an 8 μm were prepared. The 8-μm sections were stained with H&E, according to routine procedures used for sections frozen in liquid nitrogen. The 8-μm sections were used for orientation and localization of the BCC cells in the 200-μm sections. The microdissection was performed using a scalpel and dissection microscope. Areas with histological different infiltrative properties were selected. For Western blotting, the microdissected areas were boiled in loading buffer containing a final concentration of 60 mm Tris-HCl (pH 6.8), 25% (volume for volume) glycerol, 2% (w/v) SDS, 14.4 mm 2-mercaptoethanol, and 0.1% (w/v) bromophenolblue and loaded on a 12% SDS-PAGE. The proteins were electrophoretically transferred to a nitrocellulose membrane and visualized as described above. Densitometric analysis was performed with a Fluor-S quantitative imaging system (Bio-Rad Laboratories, Hercules, CA). For flow cytometry, cell suspensions were prepared from the microdissected areas by mechanically disrupting the tissue using tweezers in 3.5 μm Tris-HCl (pH 7.6), 10 mm NaCl, 10 μg/ml propidium iodide, 20 μg/ml RNase, and 0.1% (volume for volume) NP40. DNA analyses were performed in a FACSCalibur flowcytometer (Becton Dickinson Immunocytometry System, San Jose, CA), and the fraction of cells in S phase was determined manually using CellQuest 3.2 Software (Becton Dickinson Immunocytometry System).
Initially, p16INK4a reactivity was characterized by immunohistochemistry in 47 paraffin-embedded BCC samples with different degrees of invasive behavior, and the presence of p16INK4a staining together with the position of p16INK4a-positive tumor cells in the tumors were evaluated. Strong nuclear and cytoplasmic p16INK4a staining was found in a fraction of the BCC cells, and although cytoplasmic localization of p16INK4a has been argued (10) , the majority of cells with cytoplasmic staining was also positive in the nucleus, indicating true p16INK4a reactivity in the cytoplasm. An identical staining pattern was further obtained using another p16INK4a-reacting antibody supporting the specificity of the reactivity. Interestingly, p16INK4a reactivity was mainly seen in tumor cells located at the edges of nodules and also in tumor areas with clear infiltrative growth pattern (Fig. 1, A–C) ⇓ . p16INK4a reactivity was not observed in the normal keratinocytes in the epidermis nor tumor cells in the center of the BCCs, except for a few randomly scattered cells without specificity regarding the position of the cells. Presence of p16INK4a-positive tumor cells correlated further with a histologically more invasive subgroup (2) , and superficial and nodular BCCs differed substantially from BCCs with infiltrative growth patterns regarding p16INK4a expression (Table 1) ⇓ . These results linking p16INK4a expression to a highly invasive BCC subtype were unexpected, because deregulation of the p16INK4a gene product through loss of heterozygosity, promoter hypermethylation, and/or mutations in the INK4a/ARF locus is a common phenomenon in the transformation process, often found in more aggressive tumors (5) . Even more surprising was the regional localization of p16INK4a to obvious infiltrative parts of the BCCs. p16INK4a was not only present in the irregularly infiltrative parts of the BCCs but was often strongly expressed in tumor cells toward ulcerations in the epidermis, a common feature in some aggressive BCCs (1) .
Immunohistochemical staining of a BCC. A, p16INK4a staining (brown) of a nodular BCC with an infiltrative area. p16INK4a staining at the nodular invasive front (B) and in clearly infiltrative parts of the tumor (C). D–F, corresponding sections stained with Ki-67 (brown) showing ceased proliferation at the invasive front of the nodules and in clearly infiltrative parts of the BCC. G, double staining showing p16INK4a (brown) and Ki-67 (red) at the edge of the nodules. H, double staining showing p16INK4a (brown) and Ki-67 (red) in the center of the tumor.
The mechanism behind this up-regulation of p16INK4a in the apparently infiltrative cells is thus far unknown, and it is unclear whether p16INK4a is regulated at the transcriptional or post-transcriptional level. Candidate regulatory gene products might be the Ets family (11) of transcription factors or β-catenin (12) . Ets-1 accumulates during senescence and can further up-regulate p16INK4a. There is also evidence that Ets-2 can induce p16INK4a expression, an effect potentiated by the Ras-Raf-mitogen-activated protein/extracellular signal-regulated kinase signaling pathway (11) . In addition, Id1 (13) , E47 (14) , and Sp1 (15) are potential regulators of the p16INK4a promoter. Besides direct transcriptional activation, it is possible that the regional p16INK4a expression can be caused by an epigenetic phenomenon, such as silencing of the INK4a promoter by hypermethylation. As supported by our results, p16INK4a seems to be functional and present in the majority of BCCs, and mutations in the INK4a/ARF locus on chromosome 9p21 are also rare in BCC (16) , although allelic loss of one or more loci on chromosome 9 has been reported (16 , 17) . The PTCH pathway, which transcriptionally represses the Wnt protein family, is commonly targeted in BCC, and in familiar forms, PTCH is inactivated (18 , 19) . The BCCs used in this study were sporadic cases, and the observed variation in p16INK4a expression suggests a regulatory event and not a constitutive activation of p16INK4a, making it less likely that PTCH is involved in the observed phenomenon. However, a recent study suggests that Wnt-1 might be associated with dedifferentiation and proliferation in BCC (20) .
p16INK4a is one of several CDKIs involved in cell cycle regulation, and we therefore screened the other members of the INK4 family, p15INK4b, p18INK4c, and p19INK4d, as well as members in the CIP/KIP family, p21cip1 and p27kip1, using immunohistochemistry. None of the additional cell cycle inhibitors showed any regional difference in expression as observed for p16INK4a. There was further no obvious regional difference for activating cell cycle regulators, such as cyclin D1, E, or A1 and CDK2, 4, or 6 (data not shown).
The result of increased p16INK4a expression in infiltrating cells was clearly unanticipated, because inactivation of p16INK4a is commonly associated with more malignant features in many tumors (3) , whereas these results instead suggested that p16INK4a was linked to invasive properties. Cell line studies have reported conflicting results regarding any potential effect of p16INK4a on invasive behavior. Restoration of p16 in the human glioma cell line SNB19 suppressed proliferation, as well as invasion (21) . In contrast, p16INK4a was up-regulated in highly infiltrative MCF-7 breast cancer cells transfected with c-Jun supporting the results presented here (22) .
To investigate whether the cells with an up-regulated p16INK4a were proliferating and if the CDK4/6-cyclin D-Rb pathway was intact in BCC, we used the proliferation marker Ki-67. The results clearly showed a decrease in proliferation in the p16INK4a high areas (Fig. 1 D–F) ⇓ , indicating the existence of a functional p16INK4a-cyclin D-Rb pathway in BCCs. To further validate the Rb function in BCC, we used an antibody specifically detecting phosphorylation of Rb serines (Ser807 and Ser811). These residues are phosphorylated by the cyclin D1-CDK4 complex (23) . Immunohistochemical analyses of p16INK4a high areas showed a subsequent decrease in Rb phosphorylation, similar to the proliferation decrease, verifying the existence of a functional Rb and an effect of p16INK4a on the phosphorylation of the key G1-S regulatory substrate Rb (Fig. 2) ⇓ . A high fraction of Rb phosphorylated cells was accordingly observed in the center of the tumor with no detectable p16INK4a.
Phospho-Rb- and Ki-67-positive tumor cells in p16INK4a-high and -low areas. Histogram showing the fraction (mean ± SD) phospho-Rb- and Ki-67-positive tumor cells in p16INK4a-high and -low areas in three representative BCCs. The immunohistochemical staining shows phospho-Rb (brown) in a p16INK4a-high and -low area.
These results suggest that there is a phenotypic change from a highly proliferative cell in the center of the tumor mass toward a cell with lower proliferation and infiltrative behavior at the edge of the tumor. The question is if this finding in BCC is of general importance and applicable to other malignancies. We and others have earlier reported a similar phenomenon in colorectal cancer, where increased p16INK4a and decreased proliferation were detected in small invasive tumor clusters but not in larger tumor clusters (8 , 12) . In colorectal tumors lacking functional p16INK4a or Rb, there was nevertheless sustained proliferation in infiltrative clusters (8) . Similar observations have also been made in human glioma cell lines, where migrating cells had lower proliferation, although the underlying mechanism of this decrease in proliferation was not clear (7) . Decreased proliferation in invading tumor cells caused by p16INK4a up-regulation could therefore potentially be a general event in malignancies but with a requirement of a functional p16INK4a-cyclin D-Rb pathway. The results presented here using BCC as a model system are nevertheless the most definite thus far, and the inverse association between p16INK4a and proliferation and the unambiguous p16INK4a up-regulation in infiltrative cells is exceptionally clear.
To verify the results obtained from the immunohistochemical analyses of BCC, we performed Western blotting of protein extracts prepared from 12 fresh BCCs and nontumor tissues. As illustrated (Fig. 3A) ⇓ , a band corresponding to p16INK4a was observed in several of the BCC samples, as well as in the positive control cell line MDA-MB-468, whereas normal skin and some BCC samples were negative. To further confirm that p16INK4a is up-regulated at the invasive margin and the association to ceased proliferation, we froze BCCs in liquid nitrogen and used microdissection, followed by Western blotting and flow cytometry (in a subset of tumors), to verify the regional differences. The dissected parts were divided into different areas depending on their invasive appearance. The proliferative activity was monitored by cyclin A2 and flow cytometric S phase analyses. There was an inverse association between p16INK4a and cyclin A2 in the microdissected areas (Fig. 3, C and E) ⇓ further corresponding to the immunohistochemical analyses of the same tumor (Fig. 3B) ⇓ . The flow cytometric analyses of microdissected areas also showed a variation in S phase fractions (range, 0.8–5.2%) between different parts of the tumor, mirroring the cyclin A2 data (Fig. 3, D and E) ⇓ . The dissected BCC areas considered to be more infiltrative had accordingly higher amounts of p16INK4a and lower proliferative activity. This confirms our immunohistochemical findings of a decreased proliferative activity at the invasive front most likely caused by an up-regulation of p16INK4a.
BCCs and microdissected areas analyzed by Western blotting and flow cytometry. A, BCC protein extracts analyzed by Western blotting illustrating p16INK4a protein expression in different tumors. Normal skin was used as negative control, and the cell line MDA-MB-468 was used as positive control. Actin was used as loading control. B, immunohistohemical p16INK4a and Ki-67 staining of the microdissected areas of BCC 18. C, Western blotting of microdissected BCC 18 showing inverse relationship between cyclin A2 (proliferation) and p16INK4a in areas with different infiltrative properties. Actin was used as loading control. D, DNA histogram from a microdissected area of BCC 37. E, relative changes in p16INK4a (white bars) and cyclin A2 (black bars) protein contents in different tumor areas of BCC 37, 18, and 32 determined by microdissection and Western blotting. The relative change in S phase (gray bars) in microdissected parts of BCC 37 was analyzed using flow cytometry. The highest densitometric value in each blot and S phase measurement were denoted a value of 1 and used for calculation of the relative changes.
In conclusion, our results clearly indicate that invasive BCC cells can change phenotype from a proliferative to an invasive type with low proliferative activity and that this effect most likely is mediated by p16INK4a and a functional Rb pathway. Thus, invasion and proliferation might be considered as two contrasting events in malignant behavior. The results could further explain why p16INK4a inactivation is frequent in the malignant transformation process, potentially causing simultaneous proliferation and invasion, a feature that most likely is of selective advantage in tumor progression.
We thank Elise Nilsson and the personnel at the Department of Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery, Malmö University Hospital, for their excellent technical assistance and the BCC patients who participated in this study.
↵1 Supported by grants from the Swedish Cancer Society, Gunnar, Arvid and Elisabeth Nilsson Cancer Foundation, Lund University Research Funds, and Malmö University Hospital Research and Cancer Funds.
↵2 To whom requests for reprints should be addressed, at Department of Laboratory Medicine, Division of Pathology, Lund University, Malmö University Hospital, S-205 02 Malmö, Sweden. Fax: 46-40-337063; E-mail: goran.landberg{at}pat.mas.lu.se
↵3 The abbreviations used are: BCC, basal cell carcinoma; CDK, cyclin-dependent kinase; CDKI, cyclin-dependent kinase inhibitor; Rb, retinoblastoma protein; ECL, enhanced chemiluminescence.
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By Thundering Monkey
Stalking and Talking
Cassandra Cain was an excellent detective if she did say so herself. Her information suggested that whatever was happening was going down today and sure enough, her quarry appeared right on schedule, zipping his jacket right up to his chin against the early morning chill. He pulled a bright woolen cap down over his ears, stuffed his fist into his pockets and headed up the street. Cassie huddled into her black hoodie and followed, wishing she’d brought something a little warmer. Maybe if he got careless she could steal his cap.
Tailing people was one of the first things she had learned from father along with seeing and hitting. Blend with the crowd; use the terrain to break up your outline. Follow the target but don’t hunt them. It defied logic, but sometimes a dangerous enemy could seem to sense the crosshairs, and..shit he’s turning around. She barely had time to snatch a copy of Cat Fancy from a nearby newsstand and hold it in front of her face. After a few tense moments, she risked a peek around the over the top of the magazine. Her target had apparently not noticed anything and was now crossing the intersection. He looked at his watch and picked up his pace a little.
“Hey sweetheart, this ain’t a library” growled the balding fireplug of a man, running the stand, “You read it, you bought it.”
Cassie frowned. Her reading was much better than it was even last year, but she didn’t need a copy of Cat Fancy. She thought of arguing with the man on principle, but her quarry was slipping away, and she could always give it to Selina later. She could probably use a magazine about cats. She thrust a wad of bills at the man, and then smoothly dashed across the street using a city bus for cover.
Working at the Gotham branch of the Civil Rights Coalition of America was more often than not an exercise in frustration, disappointment and heartbreak for Michael Kowalski. The pay was lousy, the chances for advancement were few and far between, and the ACLU hogged all the good looking interns, but every now and then life threw you a win. He jotted one more quick note on his legal pad wishing once more, that the Coalition could find enough money to get them all Waynetech tablets. Well, maybe just one.
“Alright people” he called out “Bring it in. Hey Andy, tell them you’ll call them back. Come on people let’s get this thing started.”
The cramped office was dominated by a large table in the middle of the floor with desk and filing cabinets pushed against the walls. The obligatory picture of Martin Luther King was pinned to the wall over Melissa’s desk and Omar had hung one of those motivational posters that you got at the mall with a quote by Ghandi over the table he split with Andy where they did the office blog and the weekly newsletter. The wall by the door was morbidly referred to as “Death Row” and displayed the pictures and names of each of the twelve men currently scheduled to be executed in Blackgate. Each name had a date scrawled under it marking the deadline the Coalition was working against to save his life. They were counterbalanced on the other side by letters from grateful prisoners and family members who the Coalition had freed through their tireless efforts. There were depressingly few.
The others gathered around the table shuffling the remains of the Chinese takeout they’d had for lunch around to make room for an assortment of legal pads and laptops, finally settling in giving him their attention.
“Ok, first order of business” started Michael, “Donny Ray Boggs. We’re getting down to the wire people. He goes to the chair in six days. I know we’ve all been working very hard on this one, but let’s try to make one last push for clemency. Melissa, I want you to try to talk to the Delgado’s again. A statement of forgiveness could carry some weight with the governor. Fire up the social media, any boards you’re members of, get the word out, and remember your talking points. There’s no proof the death penalty deters violent crime. Mistakes get made and innocent people have been executed, you know the drill.”
“Moving on, we have a new development in the Joseph Keller case, for the interns, this was one that happened a few years ago. An 18 year old girl named Stephanie Brown was found dead in an alley by a sanitation worker. The police report indicated she had been attacked with a knife and fought back. Anyways, several days later Joseph Keller was brought in by the vigilante calling himself Robin, poisoned with Joker toxin and barely alive. He was arrested for the crime and sentenced for 30 to life. But here’s the thing. Last month, another lifer by the name of Cyrus Dufresne confessed to the murder, including details that the police had withheld from the media. Mr. Keller contacted us and asked for help getting his wrongful conviction overturned. We recorded Dufresne’s deposition and filed our motion with the court on Friday. It’s too soon to know for sure, but it looks like the court has found the confession credible. With any luck by this time next week Joseph Keller will be a free man.
Cassie was pretty sure Tim (the suspect, she reminded herself) was messing with her. He had weaved through the foot traffic, narrowly avoiding several collisions moving purposefully uptown for 12 blocks like he was late for an appointment, only to buy coffee from a street vendor and relax on a park bench watching a group of children playing some sort of game that involved getting a hat on a reluctant Labrador. Worse yet, he had inconsiderately placed himself near the coffee cart so she couldn’t get her own delicious moccacino. She shrank back into a recessed doorway and muffled a sneeze in her sleeve. Cain would be appalled at how soft she had gotten. He would have had her doing kata in a meat locker for hours on end if he had caught her sneezing on a stakeout. She promised herself and extra session on the new “Luthor” setting of Zogger as penance for her moment of weakness, but first she would complete her mission.
She peeked around the corner to see the dog escape the clutches of a small blonde girl triumphantly gripping the hat in its teeth. It trotted around her just out of reach completely unfazed by her scolding. Her quarry smiled at the spectacle, a little sadly she thought, and snapped a picture with his smartphone while pretending to check his email. He lingered another minute then casually dropped his empty cup in a nearby trashcan and hailed a cab. Cassie had just enough time to get a tracker on the roof of the cab before it pulled away. He was almost out of sight before she reached the cover of an alley where she could retrieve her grappler from her messenger bag and take to the rooftops. It took her another 7 blocks of running, jumping and swinging between buildings to catch up with the taxi which had come to a stop in front of a florist shop. Cassie dropped down quietly around the corner and eased up to the window to look inside. Tim was at the counter pointing at something in a big book of flower pictures. The clerk looked skeptical and gestured to a lovely bouquet of lilies instead, but gave in as Tim shook his head and pointed at the book again. Cassie wasn’t sure what to think about this development. Tim had given her flowers once at a Wayne Foundation event and had laughed and called “Dibs” to the other men at the table when she said the flowers were pretty but a kung fu movie would have been better. Boys were weird.
She had just enough time to run to the street and get her own cab before Tim came back out with a bouquet of oddly mismatched flowers, got back into his taxi, and pulled away.
“Follow that cab” Cassie demanded imperiously, “and don’t spare horses.” The cabbie rolled his eyes and muttered something about always getting the crazies. Nevertheless he pulled into traffic several cars behind Tim’s cab. Cassie idly thumbed through her magazine. “Your cat is trying to kill you, here’s why” promised to be interesting, and the article on must-have cat toys gave her some ideas for Christmas, but this was starting to turn into one of those boring police stakeouts from those movies Tim liked to watch. She leaned forwards to see what the cabbie was doing.
“Look out for bike messenger” she warned, moments before a blur in spandex whipped across three lanes of traffic to make the turn. The cabbie hunched forwards and pretended not to hear her. “Red Honda want’s to merge” she added helpfully “is looking at you, hey buddy let me over. Like that.”
The cab driver grunted and glared at her in the mirror until she settled back in her seat.
“Can I drive?”
“How’s Space” Barbara’s bright voice came from the watchtowers communication panel. “Is it cold? I bet its cold,” Nightwing grinned; finally something to break up the monotony of monitor duty. He didn’t mind taking Bruce’s shift so he could have a little away time with Selina, but damn the hours could drag out when nothing was happening.
“Probably a bit colder than it is in Gotham right now, but I have some ideas about how we could heat things up a little,” he served up for her.
“Why Mister Grayson, I can’t imagine what you mean by that,” She volleyed back. “Surely you can’t be suggesting we use the Justice Leagues ultra-secure communications array to do something….inappropriate.” He could hear the naughty grin in her voice.
“Well Mrs. Gordon let me tell you what I had in mind. First…
And thus began the Fourth Age, which the Chroniclers of Martian History would call “The Withering” bringing with it droughts unlike any known to humankind.
“I’m not sure I know this one Dick, I’m game if you are, but you might have to steer me around the curves.” Barbara said drily.
“Damn it, we tripped the adult controls on the communications console. Ever since Eel called all those sex lines and had them talk to each other for three hours anything racier than a mildly suggestive double entendre gets preempted by Jonn reading from his biography. Sorry Babs, I guess we’re on our own.”
“Ah well “Barbara sighed, “I guess I can always catch up on my reading.”
“Not those fan fiction sites again! Babs those stories make you crazy. You’re the smartest woman I’ve ever met, why you intentionally inflict those things on yourself…..I can’t even watch Walking Dead any more after what you told me that lady wrote about Zombie Darryl.”
“Damn it Dick! If smart women stop reading fan fiction because of the idiots then the Terrorist win.” She was laughing now. “Hold on, I’m getting an alert from one of the flagged case files.”
“Is this a masochism thing” Dick pleaded. “Are you punishing yourself for waiting so long to marry me?”
“Dick, we have to find Tim right now.” Barbara’s voice had gone from merry to dead serious in an instant. “They’re letting Stephanie’s killer go.”
Cassie edged silently along the wall of a marble crypt and peeked around the corner to where Tim was talking quietly to a nondescript tombstone. She’d known this was where he was headed as soon as soon as the cab had pulled up in front of this church in the suburbs. Spoiler’s gravestone.
“Your mom is doing better I think, “Tim said quietly. “Wonder Girl’s mother runs a kind of support group for parents. They get her out of the house at least. I haven’t tried to talk to her again after last time. I think it would just make things worse. Katie’s getting big. I know you said you didn’t want to know, but I always thought one day you might change your mind so I kept track of her. The people who adopted her seem nice. They’ll probably put her in dance or gymnastics soon. I’m voting for soccer. She has your giant feet…”
Tim cocked his head to the side as if listening to something. “You might as well come on out Cass. I know you’re there.”
Cassie stomped out from behind the crypt and poked Tim in the chest violently. “How?! I was SO quiet. I was like a shadow, and I didn’t buy moccacino or steal your hat! Did you hear me sneeze?”
Tim gave her his patented “You’re insane, but you’re cute so I’ll keep you” look. “It was your Oracom. Babs boosted the power on the new model to get better reception underground. There’s a little bit of feedback whenever two are close together. So what’s up? Why the cloak and dagger?”
“You said I should practice detective work, so I follow all day,” She stated proudly. “Found out lots of stuff.”
“That wasn’t exactly what I meant, but let’s hear it. What did your investigation uncover?” Tim asked with a faint smile.
Cassie pointed at the vase sitting in front of Stephanie’s gravestone. “The flowers don’t match, but not because you don’t know how. Flowers at Wayne party were prettier. Not that these aren’t good too!” she hoped she had not hurt his feelings. “Flowers mean something.”
Tim nodded and crouched by the vase touching a stalk of pink and white flowers. “These were given to Gladiators who fought in Rome. They’re a sign of respect for a brave warrior. He pointed to a pale purple one. “First Love.” Then a pink Carnation. “Remembrance” and finally a cluster of deep purple flowers almost the color of Spoilers costume. “Regret.”
“The girl with the dog?” Cassie asked, “She was Stephanie’s? The one she gave up?”
Tim smiled softly. “I was there when she was born you know. Her mom thought I was a friend from school. We weren’t really dating then, just kind of flirting a bit on patrols. Someone had to sit with her at doctors’ visits and those Lamaze classes. Her loser ex-boyfriend certainly didn’t stick around long enough to do it. Of course he didn’t get her killed, so who am I to talk.”
“Tim no!” Cassie exclaimed. “That wasn’t you. It was Stephanie. She made mistake and got killed. You’re just like Batman. Try to control everything. Feel like everything bad that happen your fault. Spoiler made choice that was bad, not you!”
“I know Cass, I know. There’s plenty of blame to go around. I blame Joseph Keller for being a sadistic murdering scumbag, I blame Steph for giving him the chance, but I put her there, you know? I was too young and too stupid to know what to say to let her down easy. It got out of hand to where we were just shouting stuff we didn’t mean to hurt each other by the end. She probably died thinking I hated her.”
Cassie had had just about enough. She plucked Tim’s cozy knit cap from where it rested and smacked him across the back of the head.
“Oww Cass! What the hell” Tim shouted rubbing his stinging head.
“You want fresh one?!” She shouted shaking her fist at him. “Stephanie made mistake but she wasn’t stupid. She know you loved her. You show her all the time. Tim Drake doesn’t date stupid women.”
Cassie jumped as her Oracom abruptly came to life in her ear. Barbara’s voice came through with an audible note of worry to it.
“Cassie, I need you to bring Tim to the clock tower immediately. Don’t let him out of your sight and don’t tell him anything’s up. Something’s happened and it will be better if he finds out from us.”
“We’re on our way.” Cassie said. “Come on Tim, Oracle need us to come in.”
“Did she say what it’s about?” Tim asked curiously.
“No, and am not worried at all about that” she replied.
They turned and walked side by side back to the front of the church, wondering how long it would take to get a taxi all the way out here.
“Cassie” asked Tim?
She looked over smiling innocently at him.
“Any chance I could get my hat back?”
“What hat?”
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If space is a vacuum why these eerie sounds?
Danton H. Pascual
The premise is that if the outer space, the space outside our planet Earth, and beyond the limitless Universe is almost a vacuum, then there would not be any sound. So that space explorers will hear nothing, except the eerie, deafening sound of ….. silence. Totally. And following the same […]
This is the live webcast of SpaceX resupply mission to ISS
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We are up to see another successful launch, hopefully, of NASA contractor Space Exploration 10th commercial resupply mission to the International Space Station. The Dragon spacecraft will lift-off from launch complex 39A of Kennedy Space Center in Florida, the first for a SpaceX mission. Lauch complex 39A was previously used […]
NASA astronaut, last man on the moon dies
He was known as the last man on the moon. Properly, the last US astronaut to have landed and walked on the moon’s surface. Former NASA astronaut, naval aviator and fighter pilot, Eugene Andrew “Gene” Cernan, the last moon walker died Monday, Jan. 16, at age 82 following ongoing health […]
The trip to Mars starts with this
Jr. Editorial Staff for Entertainment
The closest glimpse we can get on the Martian surface is here. At least in this short clip yet of the upcoming science fiction series ‘Mars’. So here we go, on-board the spacecraft just on the verge of landing on the surface of the uncharted planet. Of course, Mars is […]
Outer space-type music over Moon scared Apollo 10 astronauts, NASA reveals
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Bicol Street Journalist
Now it can be revealed. What have Apollo astronauts been hiding for decades? An Apollo mission secretly hidden in a classified tape for almost 40 years has been finally revealed, according to a NASA recent report. Three astronauts who served on the Apollo 10 mission dating back to 1969 — […]
Dwarf Planet Ceres captures NASA’s Dawn in its orbit
A new feat for space exploration was achieved with NASA’s Dawn spacecraft. The mission attained orbit around the dwarf planet when captured by gravity of Ceres approximately 38,000 miles (61,000 kilometers) at about 4:39 a.m. PST (7:39 a.m. EST) Friday. In addition to being the first spacecraft to visit a […]
China’s lunar rover Yutu and lander took photos of each other
BEIJING, Dec. 16 — China hailed its Chang’e-3 lunar probe mission “a complete success” Sunday night, after its first moon rover Yutu, or Jade Rabbit, and lander took photos of each other on lunar surface. The one-minute photographing, a day after the country finished its first lunar soft landing, showed […]
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Country Green Turf Farms Cycling Team
Stottlemeyer 60 MTB Race Report
May 20, 2014 Andy Rosser
Rider: Henry Gertje
Location: Port Gamble, WA
Race: Men 50+
STOTTLEMEYER 60 MILER 2014
Here is a race report for Henry Gertje, on May 10, 2014, Port Gamble, WA.
This was my third Stottlemeyer 60 race. Last year, I had a great race, substantially improving my time over my first race in 2011. In 2013, I placed second, with a sprint finish over Jim Albright, racing for Fisher Plumbing. The race took us 5:02 hours. Jim and I enjoyed a great memory, although Jeff Cummings of Mafia Racing won by 10 minutes.
The Stottlemeyer 60 consists of 4 laps with a 2 mile lead-in on gravel road with stepping climb, and run out on a gravel road and single track to the finish. Each lap has over a dozen segments of single track with varying character. There are several segments that are very tight and technical that take up most of the race time. The technical parts make this a physically challenging race. This year, there was an added element of slick mud.
The 60 mile race started in two waves: Open Men/Masters 40-49 and 10 minutes later, the second wave (mine) Men 50+/Single Speed/All Women. Over 100 racers.
After we started, the field quickly spread out. I was in the front group of about a dozen guys. Most were single speeders, standing up on climbs and spinning like mad through the sags. Muddy rooster tails sprayed in everyone’s faces. I rode right behind Jeff Cummings, all the way onto the single track. I don’t think he noticed me.
There was still a bit of scrambling for positions as we climbed the slimy trails. It felt clumsy and energy demanding. I knew right away that my tires were not aggressive enough, and my mud handling was untrained. I eased up to gain efficiency. It wasn’t long before Jeff gradually walked away from me. After awhile, he was nowhere to be seen.
The first and second laps of the race involved passing the slower riders from the first wave. I passed over 50 of them and wondered how much quicker I would have finished the race had I entered the Mens Open category.
The third lap was hardest, as we passed all the slower 30 Milers. Most of them were really good sports about letting the 60 Milers go by.
The forth lap was the best. The trail had firmed up in most areas, and there were no more 30 Mile racers left to pass. I was riding smoothly and still had good power. About 1/3rd into the lap, I caught up to an Audi racer. He said “Hey Henry”. I replied “Bob?” (Ludeman). He said Yes. That was a surprise. Bob usually beats me in by a few minutes. Bob said “There is one guy ahead of you”. I asked if it was Jeff. He said Yes, he’s riding well”. Jeff had passed Bob at the beginning of the lap. I thanked Bob and decided to give it my best to close the gap.
At the half-way mark of the final lap, I decided to drop my two filthy water bottles and grab one from my drop sack at Aid Station 2. I guzzled half of the fresh one and a I turned to leave, the Aid Station volunteer said, “I think there is one guy ahead of you. He came by about 30 seconds before you”. I asked if he had a Mafia jersey on? He said “Yes”. I said, “Thanks, I’m going to catch him”.
The last part has several climbs after tight technical pieces. Nearing the end of one, I saw a rider ahead that may have been Jeff. He disappeared on each descent, but finally, on the last climb to Aid Station 1, there he was. I was closing on him at double speed. I caught him just as we were passing the Aid Station. The volunteers yelled Hey Hey! to Jeff as we went by. From his other side, I softly said Hey Hey! And I gunned it down the road onto the run-out.
It was no surprise that Jeff got on my wheel. Just before getting onto the last 3/4 mile segment of tricky single track, Jeff got around me. We rode the single track with me on his wheel. Jeff was tired, but managed to stay ahead. After a while, we could hear the music at the finish line. As we broke out of the woods, we both stood up to sprint. Jeff stayed one bike length ahead. As we entered the finish zone, we had 2 switchbacks before the line. I could not squeeze around him. People were yelling for Jeff as his wheels crossed just before mine.
Henry Gertje
2nd Place, Masters 50+, 1 second back.
5:39:42.5,
13th Place overall.
Another great memory. An epic in my book.
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> Get Involved
"An Evening of Voices Against Torture"
January 11th marks the anniversary of when the U.S. opened its torture camp at Guantanamo. Bush claims “ the U.S. does not torture” as he orders the destruction of videotapes that document the C.I.A. torturing prisoners. Torture is emblematic of the Bush agenda and direction it is taking society. At a time when no "viable candidate" is calling for the immediate repeal of the Military Commissions Act or the Patriot Act, it is on the people to bring these crimes to a halt.
Shane Kadidal, senior managing attorney of the Guantánamo project at the Center for Constitutional Rights
Dr. Steven Reisner, a psychoanalyst and faculty member at NYU Medical School and at the International Trauma Studies program at Columbia. Dr Reisner has been on the forefront of the campaign to ban psychologist involvement in detainee interrogations.
Rev. N.J. L'Heureux, Executive Director of Queens Federation of Churches and outspoken minister against torture.
*For more information call: 347-678-5905.
Oral Argument in Make the Road NY v. Cuccinelli
Oral Argument in BBP v. 38 Acres
Guantanamo 18 Years Later: Witnessing and Resisting Our Carceral Society
Justice Now: Rally to Close Guantanamo, End Torture
1983 and the First Amendment: A Panel for Law Clerks in the Second Circuit
NEBLSA 52nd Regional Convention
A Bitter Legacy – A Freedom Flicks Screening
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Dancing with the Stars Has a New Mirror Ball Champ!
Alfonso Ribeiro and Witney Carson
Craig Sjodin/ABC
@lynetterice
11/25/2014 AT 05:00 PM EST
It was a year marred by painful injuries (bummer about your groin, Alfonso Ribeiro!) and awkward wardrobe malfunctions (pink boas will never mean the same again to Betsey Johnson), but the 19th season finale of Dancing with the Stars Tuesday was no less dramatic.
Ribeiro, who has said he waited 10 years for a moment like this, became the latest amateur to take home the mirror ball trophy. “I cannot believe this!” he told host Tom Bergeron. “I don't even know what to say! These are happy tears!”
“He deserves this so much,” added his partner, Witney Carson. “He's one of the most hard-working people I know.”
Second place went to Duck Dynasty star Sadie Robertson, who thanked God “who brought me so far in this competition.” Hey, Mark Ballas helped, too!
Third place went to Pretty Little Liars star Janel Parrish and Val Chmerkovskiy. “I honestly am just so lucky to be here standing here next to him,” she told Bergeron. Then, looking at her partner, “You were my trophy during the entire season.”
After a night of glitzy performances that included Meghan Trainor, Jennifer Hudson and Nick Jonas, the attention turned to the real task at hand – selecting season 19's mirror ball trophy winner.
The remaining duos still had some serious competing to do via the fusion dance, which required them to perform two different styles of dance to one song.
And they only had 24 hours to learn it! Here's how it went:
Robertson and Ballas. The Duck Dynasty star performed a decent – but not particularly extraordinary – samba and quickstep. But the judges were full of praise and 10s for the young hoofer. “Yours is a Cinderella story. You came to the ball having never danced. You met the handsome Prince Charming. You are leaving a dancing princess,” said judge Len Goodman. Score: 40
Parrish and Chmerkovskiy. The Pretty Little Liars star performed a fierce foxtrot and paso combo. “You two together are absolutely amazing,” said judge Bruno Tonioli. Score: 40
Ribeiro and Carson. The actor performed a dynamic and near flawless cha cha and Argentine tango. “We love watching you because your love for dance shows. You are like a glitter ball,” said Carrie Ann Inaba. Score: 40
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Shutout highlights home debut for women's soccer
90:00 - 2nd
St. Olaf (0-2-0) 0 0 0
Chapman (2-0-0) 1 0 1
1st - 10:21 - Rosie Kerstetter (Chapman)
Sh: Amanda Leone - 4
Sv: Nora Forbes - 5
G: Rosie Kerstetter - 1
A: Olivia Do - 1
Sh: 3 Players (#7, #8, #20 - 3)
Sv: Marissa Fehrman - 4
ORANGE, Calif. – The Chapman University women's soccer team made an early goal stand up as it defeated visiting St. Olaf College (Minn.) 1-0 in the Panthers' home debut on Friday night at Wilson Field. Chapman (2-0) begins the season with back-to-back shutouts for the first time since 2010.
Freshman F Rosie Kerstetter scored her first career goal in the 11th minute off a pass from the right wing from junior M Olivia Do. The helper was Do's second assist in as many games for Chapman. The Panthers would not score again despite out-shooting St. Olaf 13-11 in the game and creating numerous scoring opportunities which included a flurry of shots late in the second half – one that hit the crossbar.
The Chapman defense kept a clean sheet for the second consecutive game to open the season. Panthers' junior GK Marissa Fehrman made four saves in 90 minutes for her first shutout of the year.
The Panthers hit the road for their next three matches – two against top-25 ranked teams: No. 6 Trinity (Texas) in Claremont on Sunday and a rematch with last year's first round NCAA playoff opponent No. 17 Hardin-Simmons (Texas).
by Doug Aiken
Sports Information Director
Boxscore: http://www.chapmanathletics.com/sports/wsoc/2013-14/boxscores/20130906_d4gx.xml
Val Sobol Postgame Interview: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10151626076588176
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Post your #PantherPic to Instagram @ChapmanSports
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Nexus Chamber Music nestles into tight quarters with an avian program
Thu Aug 29, 2019 at 1:09 pm
By Tim Sawyier
Alexi Kenney and Brian Hong, seen rehearsing here, performed Wednesday night at Guarneri Hall with their Nexus Chamber Music colleagues. Photo: Mike Grittani
Guarneri Hall is a curiosity of a venue. The small space on the third floor of a nondescript Loop office building only seats about 60 people — uncomfortably — yet is possessed of exquisite acoustics. The space was designed for recording purposes and live-streaming concerts, and for these it would seem ideal, while the in-person experience makes for a singular combination of claustrophobia and sonic splendor.
The acoustics are such that at soft dynamics you can hear a violinist’s fingers as they land on his fingerboard, and the sound of dampers settling back onto keyboard strings when a pianist releases the pedal. These detail-amplifying features would make Guarneri Hall an unfortunate choice for less-than-polished performers, but such was not the case Wednesday night when Nexus Chamber Music opened their second annual weeklong festival at the new downtown venue.
The opening program was dubbed “Call of the Birds,” as several works on offer were inspired by birdcalls. The concert began with Haydn’s String Quartet in C Major, Op. 33 No. 3 (“The Bird”) in an elegant reading for a quartet of rising string virtuosi including Nexus co-artistic director Alexander Hersh on cello. The players were in sync with the composer’s assorted avian inspirations, with first violinist Alexi Kenney’s silvery tone highlighting the ensemble, rounded out by violinist Gabriela Lara and violist Zoë Martin-Doike.
Incorrectly listed in the program as A Bird Came Down Walking,Toru Takemitsu’s late work A Bird Came Down the Walk for Viola and Piano followed, receiving an elevated reading from Martin-Doike and pianist Victor Asuncion. Martin-Doike fully inhabited the Japanese composer’s nervy late idiom, lending her sonorous tone to the work’s static textures and reflective modal wandering. Asuncion was a sensitive support here as throughout the evening.
Hersh followed Martin-Doike in the spotlight for Fauré’s Romance for Cello and Piano, Op. 69. The young cellist is a consummate instrumentalist, but his agitated demeanor on stage distracts from his musicianship. Noisily audible breathing from him and a repertoire of facial expressions worthy of the late Robin Williams detracted from his ardent rendition of this incidental work. Given that it bore no connection to the packed program’s feathered theme, this item might have been omitted without loss.
This would have been particularly wise given the work that followed: Messiaen’s Theme and Variations for Violin and Piano, played by Kenney and Asuncion. Forgoing the Fauré and following Takemitsu with Messiaen could have underscored the immense influence the devoutly Catholic French modernist had on his Asian colleague. (Upon learning of Messiaen’s death in 1992, four years before his own, Takemitsu lamented, “His death leaves a crisis in contemporary music!”) A prominent aspect of the composers’ cross-pollination was their utilization of birdsong, the supposed thematic crux of the evening (which also could have benefitted from program notes of any description).
That missed programming opportunity notwithstanding, Kenney offered a commanding performance of this searing work. Even in the cramped quarters, the loudest dynamics always sounded robust rather than deafening, with Kenney vehemently projecting the affective core of Messiaen’s opus, and Asuncion an entirely simpatico partner.
The concert closed with Schumann’s well-worn Piano Quartet in E-flat Major, Op. 44. As with the Fauré, the connection with birds was unclear, except for a passing comment from violinist and co-artistic director Brian Hong that the work “soars,” which felt like a stretch.
With Hong replacing Kenney in the violin spot, Schumann’s familiar work sounded fresh in the hands of the young Nexus musicians. The opening Allegro brilliante was expansive with unrepressed élan, with only some fitful insecurity in the piano as a debit, and the players captured the desolate mood of the ensuing “In modo d’una marcia.” The Scherzo perhaps went best, with its propulsive rising gestures fleet and mirthful, and the closing Allegro punctuated the evening with energy to spare.
Nexus Chamber Music continues its residency at Guarneri Hall, 6:30 p.m. Friday with Dvorak’s Miniatures for Two Violins and Viola, Kurtág’s Signs, Games, and Messages, Prokofiev’s Sonata for Two Violins in C Major, and Brahms’ Piano Quartet No. 1 in G Minor. https://guarnerihall.org/
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Candice Aitken, Janice Sinclair, Stephen Mullen, Tracey Brown, Julie McPhee
The Scottish Government recently created a new role in Early Learning and Childcare (ELC) to help ensure we close the attainment gap between our least and most disadvantaged children. The post has been nationally named as the “Equity and Excellence Lead”. Whilst there is local variation in the role, this name reflects their universal focus on supporting equity and excellence in their area. Previously the post was referred to as “additional graduate” and some authorities have chosen their own individual local names.
ELC Stories
The Scottish Government recently created a new role in ELC to help ensure we close the attainment gap.
"I get immense job satisfaction seeing the children and staff thrive because of initiatives I’ve helped to implement."
"I have always been a creative individual and I’m lucky to get many opportunities to use my creativity at work."
Interested in a career in Early Learning and Childcare?
Find jobs near me Find courses near me
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Want to know more about how you can start a career in Early Learning and Childcare? Sign up to download our free guide.
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SACE | Southern Alliance for Clean Energy
News + Resources
Diversity, Equity, + Inclusion
Clean Transportation
Nuclear & Coal
Out With The Coal, In With The New
Guest Blog | December 21, 2009 | Coal, Energy Policy, Nuclear
Recently in the Southeast we’ve had some exciting announcements about utility plans to begin retiring and repowering some of their oldest and dirtiest coal plants. By our estimate, eleven retirements are in the works representing over 25 million tons of annual carbon dioxide emissions. As the proverbial ‘writing on the wall’ gets clearer that global warming pollutants like carbon dioxide will be regulated nationally in the near future, utility companies are taking old, inefficient coal plants offline in order to make way for cleaner burning, less carbon intensive facilities.
On December 7th EPA announced their decision that carbon dioxide is a public health threat, paving the way to future regulation of carbon as a pollutant. Likewise, the cost of controlling mercury pollution coupled with impending stronger mercury regulations and coal ash regulations makes many of these dirty dinosaur coal plants impossible to justify keeping online.
While coal retirements are certainly good news for clean air and combating global warming, we are unfortunately also seeing a resurgence of interest in replacing these plants with nuclear power, which in some circles is being touted as the ultimate solution to climate change. Fortunately, many utilities are exploring biomass and natural gas conversions and others are increasing investments in renewables and energy efficiency. This blog is an update on the highlights of the coal retirement news that we know of to-date across the region.
NORTH CAROLINA: The most recent announcement comes from Progress Energy North Carolina on December 1st, 2009 with plans to retire 11 older coal units at 4 different sites by 2017, totaling nearly 1,500MW of power and 30% of the company’s capacity. Progress currently plans to build new generation capacity with natural gas, namely a new 950MW facility in Wayne County, NC, but vows to remain flexible as prices and environmental requirements advance.
Lloyd Yates, CEO of Progress stated: “Coal-fueled generation will continue to be vital to our ability to meet customer electricity needs. But as environmental regulations continue to change, and as even more significant rule changes appear likely in the near future, the costs of retrofitting and operating these plants will increase dramatically. We believe this is the right decision for our customers, our state and our company.”
For more details on Progress’ announcement, visit this PR Newswire story.
Still in North Carolina, Duke Energy has made a few similar announcements, although their great claim to shame will forever be constructing a massive new pulverized coal plant, the 825 MW Cliffside facility, during a time in which our country and world are facing one of the greatest crises of our history: global warming. As part of Duke’s flimsy attempts to green wash Cliffside, they are claiming that by retiring some older units, they will “make Cliffside carbon neutral.” Keep in mind, the new Cliffside Unit 6 will emit over 6.25 million tons of carbon dioxide annually (325 Million tons over a typical 50-year lifespan) and has only vague future plans to capture and reduce that contribution to global warming. So, while it is good that the less efficient old units 1-4 will go offline, they only total 200MW of power and are barely the tip of offsetting the new 800 MW facility.
Duke has made additional, voluntary commitments to retire (currently unannounced) units to ultimately add up to the ~800MW of Cliffside Unit 6 with the following schedule: 350 megawatts by Dec. 31, 2015; 200 MW by Dec. 31, 2016; and 250 megawatts by Dec. 31, 2018. Additional retirements are expected from Duke in the coming years that could total upwards of 1,500 MW. In South Carolina, Duke plans to retire the Lee Steam Station in Anderson County by 2013 as they convert the facility to natural gas.
Georgia Power’s Plant Mitchell
GEORGIA: Southern Company’s Georgia Power retired 11 small, older units in 2002 totaling 415 MW. Recently, Georgia Power committed to convert the utility’s 155 megawatt coal-fired Plant Mitchell near Albany, Ga., to burn woody biomass, making it the first biomass plant in the vast generation fleet of Georgia Power parent Southern Co. The generation capacity of Plant Mitchell, with biomass as the fuel source will decrease to 96MW. In late 2006, Georgia Power also announced plans to retire two, smaller, coal-fueled generating units at Plant McDonough near Smyrna, Georgia totaling 500MW. They plan to replace those two units with three 840-megawatt combined cycle natural gas units, providing a “larger and cleaner source of energy close to the Metro Atlanta area” when it is complete in 2011.
FLORIDA: In Florida, Progress Energy Florida will close two units at its Crystal River Energy Complex in Citrus County (two of the state’s worst polluting coal-fired generators) when its new Levy County nuclear plant is up and running in 2020. They are also repowering the Bartow Power Plant (1,200MW) in St. Petersburg to double its output and run on natural gas in combined cycle instead of fuel oil boilers. Progress is also exploring biomass opportunities with a number of wood waste trials and contracts for power purchase.
Gulf Power is a subsidiary of Southern Company and they are currently doing a lot of testing of co-firing coal with biomass and are evaluating Plant Scholz for conversion of two coal units to biomass.
TENNESSEE: In 2010 the Tennessee Valley Authority is planning to begin building an $820 million gas-powered plant to replace the generation at its 800 MW, 57 year old, John Sevier Plant. The agency has also reduced power production from the oldest six units at their massive, almost 2000 MW facility, Widows Creek. Unfortunately, TVA has no other clear retirement announcements despite operating some of the nations largest, oldest, and dirtiest coal plants. Some of the impetus for TVA to retire John Sevier and decrease capacity at Widows Creek comes from the cross-the-border lawsuit in which the North Carolina attorney general claimed TVA’s coal plant pollution was a nuisance to the state’s air quality.
From the Chattanooga Times Free Press in August, 2009:
The 10-unit Johnsonville plant, TVA’s oldest at 60 years of age, was not included in a North Carolina nuisance lawsuit that is forcing TVA to review the future of its 59-year-old Widows Creek plant and the 57-year-old John Sevier plant. Dr. [Stephen] Smith [of Southern Alliance for Clean Energy] said Johnsonville is one of the least efficient coal plants and also should be shut down.
These plants need to be either converted to a cleaner fuel and technology, such as combined-cycle natural gas, or they need to be shut down, he said. “In the carbon-constrained world we are moving into, it no longer makes sense to run these types of old and dirty plants,” Dr. Smith said.
Hopefully we’ll begin to see more coal plant retirements across our region as utilities embrace the new clean energy future and forgo the trappings of our fossil fuel past. This significant directional shift will require bold leadership, a full embrace of energy efficiency measures, and diversification of renewable fuel sources. Unfortunately the South is still struggling with our addiction to cheap coal. In states like Georgia, we’re actually seeing a bold step in quite the opposite direction as Power4Georgians, a consortium of electric municipal cooperatives (EMCs), pursues the construction of a new 800 MW coal facility in Washington County, Georgia with possibly even greater aspirations to dig our way into a climate hole.
Together we’re making a lasting impact across the Southeast.
Energy Justice
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KTN's online platform helps you to make the connections you need
The Knowledge Transfer Network (KTN) has refreshed its online platform to intelligently connect you to relevant events, funding, thought pieces and specialist staff to help your business innovate and grow.
You can discover content using your area of interest, from Electronics, Sensors, Photonics to transport; from space to health – all major UK economic sectors are covered. Once you have selected your interests, using our intelligent tagging system, we will then display rich and relevant content related to your area, often from surprising sources.
An example might be new satellite technology from the space sector that is applicable in the agri-food sector. KTN-UK.co.uk will help you form these unusual and valuable connections.
All content on the platform has been carefully curated by our team of innovation specialists – not by an automated algorithm – so you can be confident that KTN is connecting you to the most relevant cutting-edge information.
The move also marks a closer alignment with our main funder, Innovate UK , with the website branding making a clear visual link. Knowledge Transfer Network is Innovate UK's innovation network partner, and also works with other funders to provide innovation networking services and fulfil our mission to drive UK growth.
We link new ideas and opportunities with expertise, markets and finance through our network of businesses, universities, funders and investors. From agri-food to autonomous systems and from energy to design, KTN combines expertise in all sectors with the ability to cross boundaries. Connecting with KTN can lead to potential partners, horizon-expanding events and innovation insights relevant to your needs.
Visit our people pages to connect directly with expertise in your sector.
Visit the KTN refreshed online platfom here
Electronics, Sensors, Photonics
TSB: New funding competition will address challenge of generating revenue from digital content
Competition opens: 13 September 2010
The Technology Strategy Board is to invest up to £5 million in collaborative research and development projects that will demonstrate how businesses may increase revenues from the metadata relating to their digital content. The ease with which content can be copied and distributed is threatening the economic viability of content-based businesses. Better metadata systems - ways of storing information about individual items of content - offer a possible route to improving consumer access to content and to helping rights holders better manage and exploit their assets. Through this competition, the Technology Strategy Board will invest in collaborative R&D projects that will develop prototypes, demonstrators, tools or solutions to address this challenge. Such solutions may include, for example:
commercially exploitable interoperability between different existing metadata systems such as databases, ontologies and schema;
technologies to ensure the persistent association of content with its metadata;
increased understanding, analysis and exploitation of patterns of content use in networks that could lead to new revenue opportunities for content owners;
increased accessibility of content through more effective navigation and discovery services at the consumer and business interface;
novel approaches to visualisation of metadata;
increased efficiencies in licensing, rights clearance and remuneration for the use of digital content;
new services or business models that exploit the value of metadata as an asset in its own right.
The competition, which opens on 13 September 2010, will fund two types of projects. Firstly, fast-track projects, which must be led by creative industry SMEs. The total value of each project must be less than £100,000 and they should be completed within 12 months. The Technology Strategy Board will invest up to £600,000 in such projects. Secondly, mainstream projects of more than £100,000 total project value, which must be business-led. The Technology Strategy Board will invest up to £4.4 million in these projects, which will typically last between 1 and 2 years. For more information visit the Technology Strategy Board website on the competition and the Press release
By Anna Field
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Electret Energy Harvester
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Analysis for Innovators is a new funding programme that targets competitiveness and...
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Copper corrosion experiments under anoxic conditions
Kaija Ollila
Research output: Book/Report › Report
This report gives results from the corrosion experiments with copper under anoxic conditions. The objective was to study whether hydrogen-evolving corrosion reaction could occur. Copper foil samples were exposed in deaerated deionized water in Erlenmeyer flasks in the glove box with inert atmosphere. Four corrosion experiments (Cu1, Cu2, Cu3 and Cu4) were started, as well as a reference test standing in air. Cu1 and Cu2 had gas tight seals, whereas Cu3 and Cu4 had palladium foils as hydrogen permeable enclosure. The test vessels were stored during the experiments in a closed stainless steel vessel to protect them from the trace oxygen of the gas atmosphere and light. After the reaction time of three and a half years, there were no visible changes in the copper surfaces in any of the tests in the glove box, in contrast the Cu surfaces looked shiny and unaltered. The Cu3 test was terminated after the reaction time of 746 days. The analysis of the Pd-membrane showed the presence of H2 in the test system. If the measured amount of 7.2?10-5 mol H2 was the result of formation of Cu2O this would correspond to a 200 nm thick corrosion layer. This was not in agreement with the measured layer thickness with SIMS, which was 6 ± 1 nm. A clear weight loss observed for the Cu3 test vessel throughout the test period suggests the evaporation of water through the epoxy sealing to the closed steel vessel. If this occurred, the anaerobic corrosion of steel surface in humid oxygen-free atmosphere could be a source of hydrogen. A similar weight loss was not observed for the parallel test (Cu4). The reference test standing in air showed visible development of corrosion products.
Svensk Kärnbränslehantering AB (SKB)
D4 Published development or research report or study
SKB rapport
R-13-34
anoxic conditions
Ollila, K. (2013). Copper corrosion experiments under anoxic conditions. Svensk Kärnbränslehantering AB (SKB). SKB rapport, No. R-13-34
Ollila, Kaija. / Copper corrosion experiments under anoxic conditions. Svensk Kärnbränslehantering AB (SKB), 2013. 47 p. (SKB rapport; No. R-13-34).
@book{e0bb76f4d6e4466b8d61543ae6798fd3,
title = "Copper corrosion experiments under anoxic conditions",
abstract = "This report gives results from the corrosion experiments with copper under anoxic conditions. The objective was to study whether hydrogen-evolving corrosion reaction could occur. Copper foil samples were exposed in deaerated deionized water in Erlenmeyer flasks in the glove box with inert atmosphere. Four corrosion experiments (Cu1, Cu2, Cu3 and Cu4) were started, as well as a reference test standing in air. Cu1 and Cu2 had gas tight seals, whereas Cu3 and Cu4 had palladium foils as hydrogen permeable enclosure. The test vessels were stored during the experiments in a closed stainless steel vessel to protect them from the trace oxygen of the gas atmosphere and light. After the reaction time of three and a half years, there were no visible changes in the copper surfaces in any of the tests in the glove box, in contrast the Cu surfaces looked shiny and unaltered. The Cu3 test was terminated after the reaction time of 746 days. The analysis of the Pd-membrane showed the presence of H2 in the test system. If the measured amount of 7.2?10-5 mol H2 was the result of formation of Cu2O this would correspond to a 200 nm thick corrosion layer. This was not in agreement with the measured layer thickness with SIMS, which was 6 ± 1 nm. A clear weight loss observed for the Cu3 test vessel throughout the test period suggests the evaporation of water through the epoxy sealing to the closed steel vessel. If this occurred, the anaerobic corrosion of steel surface in humid oxygen-free atmosphere could be a source of hydrogen. A similar weight loss was not observed for the parallel test (Cu4). The reference test standing in air showed visible development of corrosion products.",
author = "Kaija Ollila",
note = "Report ID 1393420",
series = "SKB rapport",
number = "R-13-34",
publisher = "Svensk K{\"a}rnbr{\"a}nslehantering AB (SKB)",
address = "Sweden",
Ollila, K 2013, Copper corrosion experiments under anoxic conditions. SKB rapport, no. R-13-34, Svensk Kärnbränslehantering AB (SKB).
Copper corrosion experiments under anoxic conditions. / Ollila, Kaija.
Svensk Kärnbränslehantering AB (SKB), 2013. 47 p. (SKB rapport; No. R-13-34).
T1 - Copper corrosion experiments under anoxic conditions
AU - Ollila, Kaija
N1 - Report ID 1393420
N2 - This report gives results from the corrosion experiments with copper under anoxic conditions. The objective was to study whether hydrogen-evolving corrosion reaction could occur. Copper foil samples were exposed in deaerated deionized water in Erlenmeyer flasks in the glove box with inert atmosphere. Four corrosion experiments (Cu1, Cu2, Cu3 and Cu4) were started, as well as a reference test standing in air. Cu1 and Cu2 had gas tight seals, whereas Cu3 and Cu4 had palladium foils as hydrogen permeable enclosure. The test vessels were stored during the experiments in a closed stainless steel vessel to protect them from the trace oxygen of the gas atmosphere and light. After the reaction time of three and a half years, there were no visible changes in the copper surfaces in any of the tests in the glove box, in contrast the Cu surfaces looked shiny and unaltered. The Cu3 test was terminated after the reaction time of 746 days. The analysis of the Pd-membrane showed the presence of H2 in the test system. If the measured amount of 7.2?10-5 mol H2 was the result of formation of Cu2O this would correspond to a 200 nm thick corrosion layer. This was not in agreement with the measured layer thickness with SIMS, which was 6 ± 1 nm. A clear weight loss observed for the Cu3 test vessel throughout the test period suggests the evaporation of water through the epoxy sealing to the closed steel vessel. If this occurred, the anaerobic corrosion of steel surface in humid oxygen-free atmosphere could be a source of hydrogen. A similar weight loss was not observed for the parallel test (Cu4). The reference test standing in air showed visible development of corrosion products.
AB - This report gives results from the corrosion experiments with copper under anoxic conditions. The objective was to study whether hydrogen-evolving corrosion reaction could occur. Copper foil samples were exposed in deaerated deionized water in Erlenmeyer flasks in the glove box with inert atmosphere. Four corrosion experiments (Cu1, Cu2, Cu3 and Cu4) were started, as well as a reference test standing in air. Cu1 and Cu2 had gas tight seals, whereas Cu3 and Cu4 had palladium foils as hydrogen permeable enclosure. The test vessels were stored during the experiments in a closed stainless steel vessel to protect them from the trace oxygen of the gas atmosphere and light. After the reaction time of three and a half years, there were no visible changes in the copper surfaces in any of the tests in the glove box, in contrast the Cu surfaces looked shiny and unaltered. The Cu3 test was terminated after the reaction time of 746 days. The analysis of the Pd-membrane showed the presence of H2 in the test system. If the measured amount of 7.2?10-5 mol H2 was the result of formation of Cu2O this would correspond to a 200 nm thick corrosion layer. This was not in agreement with the measured layer thickness with SIMS, which was 6 ± 1 nm. A clear weight loss observed for the Cu3 test vessel throughout the test period suggests the evaporation of water through the epoxy sealing to the closed steel vessel. If this occurred, the anaerobic corrosion of steel surface in humid oxygen-free atmosphere could be a source of hydrogen. A similar weight loss was not observed for the parallel test (Cu4). The reference test standing in air showed visible development of corrosion products.
M3 - Report
T3 - SKB rapport
BT - Copper corrosion experiments under anoxic conditions
PB - Svensk Kärnbränslehantering AB (SKB)
Ollila K. Copper corrosion experiments under anoxic conditions. Svensk Kärnbränslehantering AB (SKB), 2013. 47 p. (SKB rapport; No. R-13-34).
http://www.skb.se/upload/publications/pdf/r-13-34.pdf
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Zero Mass’ solar panels turn air into drinking water
What if you could produce clean drinking
water right out of thin air and without using electricity? That’s what one
Arizona based startup is trying to do using a combination of solar energy,
material science, and data. Is this the next level of drinking water? This is Zero Mass Water. It’s a water startup operating out of an old car dealership
in Scottsdale, Arizona. Zero Mass is building and selling solar-powered
panels that harvest drinking water called Source. The panels have been up
and running in specific locations over the past couple years, but Source just
became more widely available. At the very highest level, we take sunlight and air
and we produce water. As you drill into that, the air part of that equation
is applying air into materials that like water. So the same way when you
leave a lid off of a sugar bowl, the sugar gets a little clumpy. That’s
because that sugar really likes water in the air. I visited Zero Mass at
their headquarters to check out their panels. And, of course, to taste the water. And where is this water coming from? So the panels that produce this water are on the roof. So we’re taking a water vapor
out of the air, concentrating it in the panels and then we’re dispensing it to
the tap. It tastes nice and clean. It’s good isn’t it? Yeah, I had some tap water last night that didn’t taste quite like this. Okay. So to say they pull water from the air is technically accurate, but really
it’s a multi-step system. The Zero Mass panels look like regular solar panels, but the middle strip is the only part that is standard photovoltaic technology. That part drives the fans and the communications inside the unit. On either side of that strip is a proprietary, porous material – one that generates heat. A separate proprietary material inside the panel absorbs moisture from the air. Then the panel uses sunlight to take the water back out of those materials and produce a process that’s not dissimilar from dew forming on grass. Basically, when warm air hits a surface colder than itself. And then the water ends up in a
30-liter reservoir. Where it’s mineralized and pH balanced
and at that point it’s drinkable. Let’s say there’s an emergency
situation, like with the recent hurricane in Puerto Rico. How quickly can you get
one of these set up? So the three of us could install two of these in probably an hour. And so it actually turns out, the thing that takes the longest in
putting these in, is moving that line down to the sink or to the refrigerator. While I was able to see the Zero Mass panels and taste the water, I didn’t have much
visibility into how the water actually runs from the reservoir to a faucet. I was, however, able to see the company’s network operations center. We call it the NOC for short. Every panel that we’ve ever deployed is communicating with the server we have here. Robinson also said that each panel has a circuit board that runs an algorithm. So it can adjust itself to maximize water output.
On average, each panel is supposed to produce five liters of water per day. But it is safe to assume that if you’re in a less humid climate or a more dry climate that your water output could be less. Here is probably very different from here in the Philippines, right? Yep, the two things that affect the amount of water we produce are the humidity in the atmosphere and the amount of solar
energy that’s available. Still, he says that Zero Mass panels are absolutely able to make water in the desert, even in a place as dry as Arizona. There’s no doubt that a lack of access to clean water
is a big problem for a lot of people.
According to the United Nations, water scarcity affects more than 40
percent of the global population. What would you say is the biggest water problem we have around the globe right now? Is it scarcity, is it quality, is it access? I would say, it is really all
of the above. That would be the right answer. The number of people who die from
waterborne diseases is enormous. It exceeds a million deaths per year. Dr. Ashok Gadgil is a kind of legend when it comes to socially beneficial technologies, especially in the developing world. He’s won numerous
awards, including an induction into the National Inventors Hall of Fame. And back in the 90s he developed a product that uses UV light to disinfect water. He says that changes in climate patterns, the explosion in urban populations and rising incomes are setting us up for a serious water crisis. This century, there is going to be an extraordinary crisis that the groundwater will be relied on as
if it was there in indefinitely large quantities. It is not, of course, there that
way — and we are to drill deeper and deeper and we are extracting now water,
that some of my geochemist friends tell me, is 10,000 years old,
that is being pulled out of the ground to be used, because that’s the rate of replenishment.
It’s minuscule compared to the rate of a withdrawal. So, is Zero Mass going
to replace groundwater as a primary source? Is it going to help people with
little to no access to clean water? Or is it just for people who buy a lot of
bottled water? Cody Friesen, the CEO, says all of the above. This takes us from a position of water scarcity to a position of water abundance for every person. And it’s a profound thing to say and I recognize it sounds profound but this technology entitles us to be aspirational because
of the fact that we can say, “Okay, yep they’re Syrian refugee issues in northern Lebanon, let’s go there.” “Yep, Maria hit Puerto Rico, yep, let’s go there.”
“Hey, there’s issues in Flint, let’s go there.” “Hey, by the way, you’re buying
bottled water in Berkeley. Let’s displace that.”
Same in Oakland, same in Scottsdale. There is still the cost to consider. Each panel costs $2,000 plus a $500 installation fee,
so $4,500 total for a two-panel array. So far, Zero Mass
says hundreds of panels have been set up in eight countries around the world.
For people in developed markets, that means they’re either early testers or they’re
paying out of pocket. In emergency situations or places where there’s a
lack of funding, the company is relying on donors, NGOs, or multilateral
institutions. The fact that it’s totally independent of any infrastructure, no wire, no pipe or anything, the fact that we can just put this anywhere, changes
your life. There’s no doubt Zero Mass is working hard
on an innovative way for people to have access to clean water without
electricity or sophisticated plumbing. Not surprisingly, others are working
on solutions like this too. The question then doesn’t seem to be
whether it’s too good to be true, it’s whether harvesting water from the
air is the most sustainable, most cost-effective solution for clean water. While Dr. Gadgil declined to comment on Zero Mass specifically, he said the method of harvesting water from the air wouldn’t be his first choice. Pulling water from moisture — condensing water from moisture in the air is viable if I was on a desert island, I had lots of money and there was no other source of fresh
water and I was going to die. Then the value of my life is what is now pitted
against the cost of that water. Instead, he says conserving water and recycling water, like the stuff we flushed down the toilet every day, are still more cost-effective than harvesting new water. We need to do both. But we should do whatever is cheaper and least damaging to the environment. In almost all cases, reusing the water, seems to be the cheaper way to go. Similarly, conserving water seems to be a
cheaper way to go, before you start harvesting it from the air. In the world of water, there may be different interpretations of sustainability and varying approaches to how to get clean water to more people. For Zero Mass, the company says the goal is to get to the point where the idea of water from
thin air, is just a part of people’s everyday conversations. You’re at a cocktail party and say, “Oh I’ve got solar on my roof,” people think, “Oh electricity,” to in a
small number of years, people saying, “Oh you have solar, are you talking about
electricity or water?” Let’s go up to the roof and check out our array up there. Okay. And Mike’s coming with us, right? Isn’t Mike coming with us? I think Mike was supposed to come with us. Yeah, Mike’s coming with us. Mike, we lost you. Oh, I was supposed to? Sorry. I was getting mixed signals.
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Related tags : Ashok Gadgil clean energy Cody Friesen global warming green energy green tech Lauren Goode next level next level with lauren goode scarcity solar panels sustainable energy tech Technology that the the verge UC Berkeley verge water Zero Mass Water
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Can this be more cost effective than distilling and remineralizing salt water? Does that thing use some kind of phase change cooler to make the water freeze?
I hope y’all aren’t drinking from your dehumidifiers. Gross af.
Let's make this world better together.
It's wild how scientifically illiterate the reporters for a tech site are. Or they do understand what this is but don't care because it's good for clicks.
Sucks.
I can buy a dehumidifier that produces half a liter of water a day and consumes 60W for around 50 dollars…If I add solar panels to it….I could have a system capable of producing 5 liter of water for around 1k dollars…
Extremely bad if used on a massive scale
I tried the water from my airconditior, it taste terrible,but it's better than nothing.
standard household dehumidifier = water from air alternately power with solar panel, battery and inverter = free water anywhere
Bullshit. You get more water by squeezing bullshit.
Would this affect the amount of rain that fall on the area?
There's several ways of making water in a survival situation just using a large plastic bag. You can produce drinking water using the plastic bag where there trees or no trees. Works on the same principle this expensive system. For your home there's plenty of water purifiers and active carbon filters to provide suitable good tasting safe water for drinking/washing.
👍🏼 nice. Solid tech for those of us that live off grid , in the desert where the water table is 350+ below ground, costing about $80 per ft to have drilled with casing, putting a well at 28,000$ to drill on the low end, before pump house ect, my neighbor spend close to 65k on a well, before putting the pumphouse in, so $2500 is totally reasonable under those conditions not to mention it opens up the prospect of undeveloped real estate that can be found relatively cheap. We also catch water as well, 1” of rain =.6 gallons of water, but that also gets pricy trying to design a catchment that has the surface needed for both domestic and irrigation, and the quality is always questionable without a solid filtration system that is also optimized for solar use which can easily run $500 and up. I’m guessing most folks knocking this as being “an expensive dehumidifier” have never actually tried to run a dehumidifier (or any other 750 Watt appliance) off of solar panels. You would likely need between 2-3KW array plus a sizable and expensive battery bank just to run a dehumidifier for 12 hours, so this looks Like a much more efficient way, if you were to add up the cost of upsizing your solar system to acomedate a running at least 12 hours per day. A friend has another similar system as this by a company “air to water” that plugs into a 110 volt outlet, also about the same price , both MUCH more efficient that a standard 750 watt dehumidifier, so yeah, $2500 is actually a drop in the bucket so to speak when considering the cost of developing a parcel off grid, and water is absolutely the most essential resource for off grid living.
Seems like an over-engineered solution. A simple 60sq ft rain roof with a gutter could collect 465 gallons/year or 5 liters per day of rainwater even in Arizona (much more in other places). It's just a matter of storing it when it falls. A 300-gallon water reservoir is only like $300, 60sq ft metal roofing, gutter and PVC pipe would be like $90. So for $390 you could have access to the same amount of clean renewable water, it would just take slightly more surface area. It would take out the variable of solar power as well.
Journos who cover science and technology topics really should have at least some background in science and technology. If you want large volumes of fresh water and nature isn't providing it, reverse osmosis desalination of sea water is by far the cheapest way to get it, even if you have to pump the water hundreds of miles inland and thousands of feet above sea level.
Thanks 4 unskipabal ad
this video is a lie
please remove it your spreading misinformation
How about mineral? is that important composition in water, for human consumption.
How many gallons does one panel make? This such an AWESOME invention Yahweh bless you all..
boooooooo… u’ll just report anything that sounds cool without investigating it.
that's bs technology its a money scam to get money from governments, companies and invests. Total garbage.
In India you can get this Jugaad in as low as 90 USD
everything under d Solar Deity 🙂
4:48 All water is like 3 or 4 billion years old…
Old technology, basically same as HVAC tech we all use right now lol
I’m excited to see where this goes in the future. We have 40 acres in North Central Arizona. There is no ground water, so no well can be drilled. We plan to dig a large pond, and collect rain water. But this would be great for drinking and cooking water.
WHY do you have to "mineralize" the water? You have created distilled water and you are probably adding fluoride which humans DO NOT NEED.
Why not collect and clean rainwater on roofs? Would be cheaper.
With chemtrails in the sky, drought is guaranteed.
Have you ever read the warning label on a dehumidifier? Water from dehumidification doesn't contain the minerals you need and has to have them added. It has to be decontaminated – all of which costs energy and energy costs money. "But the solar, dude!" yup, okay, solar – which costs money to install and then amortize the costs of as well as maintain – there are no free rides. Oh, and if you live in a region with low humidity and/or temperatures, ya, you've just wasted your money, which is not skin off my arse and all, but it makes this Schadenfreude taste so, so good. So, water from the air – a false economy. Consider trucking in water or treating existing sources including rainwater, they're both far, far better, more sustainable solutions to water shortages than dehumidifier water.
Doesn't the air need moisture
It can make the air dry
We need this in Cape Town
Wish they could make a smaller version so it can fit on a truck. If your out somewhere or helping people after a natural disaster, and or off in another country were it's hard to find water. If you have a platform that will fit on a vehicle that would pretty cool
This system harms water cycle and air temperature
2500 for a gallon of water a day? seems kinda expensive.
Here pet you seem sold on it take one of the units and go into a desert not taking any water with you and if you come out after a week we will know if it works !
Is this the next level of drinking water?
Short answer….. No.
So get a solar panel from harbor freight and charge batteries all day then run dehumidifier outside at night and filter with charcoal or reverse osmosis. Voila
This is the kind of technology that can be very useful in my country, where humidity can often reach 100% and become unbearable.
In Kuwait, the average amount of water from dehumidification of air conditioned water is around 100 liter/day for one average house. This is much more than the few liters per panel. Before dismissing it, it could be modified to use different humidity sources in the house or its water flows.
The production of water per panel is too costly and it needs more research
Agree to the last comments of Dr. Ashok, we should make it cheap.
Where is the video on the Bill Gates toilet
Desertification in taking over alot of areas in Spain and China, these could help reverse that process. gotta love it
would these work on Mars ?????
💎💎💎
Very nice idea
God damn, some people can sell anything with clever marketing 😀 This is so waste of perfectly good energy. Remove the dehumidifier part and you have something useful there.
Honestly, reporters should make some research and not give these people free advertisement.
Harvesting water from air is made to seem ok option in this piece, but it's pretty much worst option we have. This whole thing is gimmick that some cashgrab people sell, and some people buy because they are ignorant.
So from the video she says each unit collects around five litres per day and they cost about $2500? So it would take almost two years for it to produce water costing a dollar a litre.
This is too expensive. Such units need to produce water costing less than a cent a litre.
It’s an expensive dehumidifier. This tech has been proven pointless over and over again. Does not provide enough water. Stop giving these companies publicity until they can prove they provide enough water.
In an emergency it would be quicker, easier, and faster to just haul water in for people. Could you imagine telling people who don’t have any water to wait while the dehumidifier collects water lol
Sooo, does it work on Mars?
cape town should try this
In humid areas – where this "invention" would work well – it is not needed, because there is already plenty of rain! And, in dry areas this "invention" is worthless at pulling water out of the air that just plain isn't there to be collected! This is just a SCAM!
Over engineered, why would it need to communicate to anyone other than tothe owner?
can this technology be applied to RV ?
Fantastic but a standard array consisting of two panels does not really generate too much a day… 🙁
This device has provided 100% of our drinking water for more than a year now.
Beautiful technology that could stop the water wars.
좋은 자료를 볼 수 있어 감사합니다. 깨끗한 물을 얻기위한 좋은 대안이 되길 기원합니다.
Are the panels water resistant? It rains a lot where I live. And I don't want them to take damage from the rain.
He called himself “profound”. 😑
Well it comes from air also if we see closely and its the example we see cold on mountain or hill station or see pyramid structure also mountain can be made like wise or we already made it some big mountain in our past who knows ?????
Throw in a couple of tech jargons to make itself more legit and confuse the common man but at the end of the day this tech is just a dehumidifier and slapping it with a $4500 price tag. Not Bad
It sounds like 60 years ago. A new biological process will feed the hungry all over the world. Well. Well. It didn't. Poor floks don't have any money.
Easier to use your airconditioner!
How many gallons of water are used on those lush green lawns we keep seeing in this video.
A dehumidifier and an inefficient one at that.
terapkan di africa
Thundercats!
Hoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Can homeless people afford it
Damn, this seems just so busted
At the time 8:19 exactly it was Tamilnadu @ India
Proprietary! 👎
excess use of it could make the environment dry and affect rainfall.
Can I have some reading material on this?
There are several other companies making more efficient systems for less money.
Its 100% a gimmick.
nah like not even close. desalinization is the only viable direction.
It's a great and old idea that won't be remotely feasible before we can locally produce very, very cheap energy. Hopefully we'll get most of our water from the air by the year 2300.
i heard this was a scam
Is the proprietary material graphene? Or some sort of graphene base?
Anyone knows what the music at 2:10 in this video is? I kind of like it. The music I mean.
In the Bahamas they used solar to evaporations to take water out of salt! They need to collect the water from that for drinking water.
5 litres a day is not abundance.
BUY A DEHUMIDIFIER I HAVE ONE–THIS PRICE IS REDICULOUS
As far as countries in the US…if we were able to get these set up on all the homes, that would reduce the carbon foot print of plastic bottles that we through away all the time. Then, to be on the safe side, have a back up generator to help run it, for bad weather days or some SHTF situation. As this technology expands, the price will come down. So, the only water from the utility company we would need is for basic washing and toilets. Could put water bottling companies out of business…
Ironic that the geoengineering white lines are obvious in the sky of this footage….
will we run out of air
5 liters per day per panel, under ideal conditions?!? That is hardly enough drinking water for 3 people per day for $2500? Are you serious? So this is only First World Water, for the extremely rich. Someone needs to come up with something that can collect water and doesn't cost a fortune…. passive fog fencing maybe? Amyways, this is bogus…. this company is trying to fleece people desperate for water.
OOOOOOOOH, a desiccant powered dehumidifier this is totally groundbreaking and in no way a waste of time and money.
Small note: “Spain’s National Statistics Institute reported that average household water consumption in Spain was 137 litres per person per day in 2012.” 5 liters per panel per day!?
She is a very intelligent lady. That's for sure.
just buy a dehumidifier and hook it to a solar panel that generate about 400 W will give you similar result with less money.
so this solution can feed WATER to desert lands.
wow. they actually convinced Australian Government to put near $1 million into 150 panels in Australia.
Check guide from Avasva eco blog.
$4,500 for 10 liters of water per day. Ouch. Much of this cost is in the solar power unit and optimization technology. For people who already have solar power, there must be a low tech way of doing this at a fraction of the cost. Can anyone provide a link to a low tech, low cost method of atmospheric water harvesting?
That sounds fine and good, with water vapor. The problem is the corporations that have our government in their grip are dumping barium, mercury, aluminum dioxide, and other contaminants in the air, which suspends in the vapor. I guess like pond water, it gets filtered.
WHAT IS CHEAPER IS NOT SAFER SO THIS TECH IS VERY CHEAPER IF U FACTOR IN YR HEALTH COST!!!
Ya more like a marketing scam.
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Global Defense Initiative
Command & Conquer: Tiberian Dawn
Cradle Of My Temple
Cape Town is the capital city of South Africa. It was a final stand between the Global Defense Initiative and the Brotherhood of Nod as they controlled all of Africa from top to bottom, while GDI was to destroy Kane's headquarters at Sarajevo where he had turned Central and Eastern Europe into a war zone plus being responsible for the Bialystok scandal in Poland.
First Tiberium War[edit | edit source]
GDI Preparations[edit | edit source]
When the Brotherhood of Nod fought against rogue General, Nikoomba in Libya, the Global Defense Initiative sent peacekeeping forces by the orders of Robert Fielding, Honore Prichard and Francis Weatherell in a bid to help African leaders overwhelm the Brotherhood of Nod and gain more footholds to stop Nod in its tracks. Both Fielding and Weatherell took the GDI bases in Egypt, Sudan, Mauritania, Nigeria, Zaire, Tunisia, Tanzania, Namibia, Botswana, Zambia, Zimbabwe and South Africa. Prichard only took the GDI bases in the Ivory Coast, Zaire, Benin, Chad, Angola and Mozambique.
GDI's End in Africa[edit | edit source]
The Nod forces fought against GDI to control Africa and using the hijacked Ion Cannon to destroy a major site. The Nod arsenal destroyed GDI forces coming through the city and within the base of operations before a new Temple of Nod was built to launch Nuclear Missiles against their common enemy with two bases destroyed earlier and later, a third one killing the GDI Commander in charge for the city before the rest of Nod's finest Commanders including the Nod Commander himself had destroyed the final three killing the GDI South African Commander and capturing the city, causing a surrender by the President of South Africa.
U.S. President Robert Fielding was at Camp David when the White House was destroyed by the hijacked Ion Cannon strike and Parliament House in London was destroyed with Francis Weatherell being at Chequers. The other two choices were both the Paris Tower and Brandenburg Gate.
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PGR Seminars
CoCreate at CHI2019
CoCreate researchers have had 13 contributions accepted for the ACM CHI 2019 conference, to be held in Glasgow, Scotland, at the beginning of May. The accepted work includes 7 full papers, covering a wide variety of the type of research conducted by group members, and collaborations with a wide variety of other institutions and non-University partners.
CHI – pronounced ‘kai’ and full name ACM CHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems – is the premier international conference in the research field of Human-Computer Interaction. The conference typically has an acceptance rate of between 20-25% for its full paper track, and the 2019 conference is the first time in its 30+ year history it is being held in the UK.
A full list of accepted contributions can be found below:
Full papers:
Recipes for Programmable Money
Chris Elsden (Northumbria University), Tom Feltwell (Northumbria University), Shaun Lawson (Northumbria University), John Vines (Northumbria University).
Designing for Digital Playing Out
Gavin Wood (Northumbria University), Thomas Dylan (Northumbria University), Abigail Durrant (Northumbria University), Pablo E. Torres (University College London), Philip Ulrich (Canterbury Christ Church University), Amanda Carr (Canterbury Christ Church University), Mutlu Cukurova (UCL Institute of Education), Denise Downey (The Cedarwood Trust), Phil McGrath (The Cedarwood Trust), Madeline Balaam (KTH Stockholm), Alice Ferguson (Playing Out CIC), John Vines (Northumbria University), Shaun Lawson (Northumbria University).
Emotion Work in Experience-Centered Design
Madeline Balaam (KTH Stockholm), Rob Comber (KTH Stockholm), Rachel E. Clarke (Northumbria University), Charles Windlin (KTH Stockholm), Anna Ståhl (Research Institutes of Sweden), Kristina Höök (KTH Stockholm), Geraldine Fitzpatrick (Technische Universität Wien).
Programmable Donations: Exploring Escrow-Based Conditional Giving
Chris Elsden (Northumbria University), Ludwig Trotter (Lancaster University), Mike Harding (Lancaster University), Nigel Davies (Lancaster University), Chris Speed (University of Edinburgh), John Vines (Northumbria University).
JourneyCam: Exploring Experiences of Accessibility and Mobility among Powered Wheelchair Users through Video and Data
Sunil Rodger (Newcastle University), Dan Jackson (Newcastle University), John Vines (Northumbria University), Janice McLaughlin (Newcastle University), Peter Wright (Newcastle University).
Designing Second-Screening Experiences for Social Co-Selection and Critical Co-Viewing of Reality TV
Tom Feltwell (Northumbria University), Gavin Wood (Northumbria University), Scarlett Rowland (Northumbria University), Kiel S. Long (Northumbria University), Chris Elsden (Northumbria University), Phillip Brooker (University of Liverpool), John Vines (Northumbria University), Pamela Briggs (Northumbria University), Julie Barnett (University of Bath), Shaun Lawson (Northumbria University).
Understanding the Boundaries between Policymaking and HCI
Anne Spaa (Northumbria University), Abigail Durrant (Northumbria University), Chris Elsden (Northumbria University), John Vines (Northumbria University).
Designing for Outdoor Play
Gavin Wood (Northumbria University), Jon Back (Uppsala University), Jaz Choi (RMIT), Tommy Dylan (Northumbria University), and Marti Louw (Carnegie Mellon University).
Designing for Digital Wellbeing: A Research & Practice Agenda
Marta E. Cecchinato (Northumbria University), John Rooksby (Northumbria University), Alexis Hiniker (University of Washington), Sean Munson (University of Washington), Kai Lukoff (University of Washington), Luigina Ciolfi (Sheffield Hallam University), Anja Thieme (Microsoft Research), Daniel Harrison (University College London).
CHI4EVIL: Creative Speculation on the Negative Impacts of HCI Research
Robert Soden (University of Colorado), Michael Skirpan (Carnegie Melon University), Casey Fiesler (University of Colorado), Zahra Ashktorab (IBM Research), Eric P. S. Baumer (Lehigh University), Mark Blythe (Northumbria University), Jasmine Jones (University of Minnesota, Minneapolis).
Panels:
Moving Towards a Journal-centric Publication Model for CHI: Possible Paths, Opportunities and Risks
Gilbert Cockton (Northumbria University), Kristina Höök (KTH Royal Institute of Technology, Stockholm), Jofish Kaye (Mozilla), Annika Waern (Uppsala University), Julie Williamson (University of Glasgow), Eleanor Wynn (Ronin Institute).
The Future of Tangible User Interfaces
Lars Erik Holmquist (Northumbria University), Oren Zuckerman (The Interdisciplinary Center (IDC) Herzliya), Rafael ‘Tico’ Ballagas (HP Inc), Hiroshi Ishii (Massachusetts Institute of Technology), Kimiko Ryokai (University of California, Berkeley), Haiyan Zhang (Microsoft Research).
Balancing Interaction Design
Gilbert Cockton (Northumbria University).
Research Through Design 2019
Several members of CoCreate will be travelling to Delft and Rotterdam in The Netherlands.
Dementia Lab 2018
Members of CoCreate were recently involved in organising and participating in Dementia Lab 2018..
CoCreate, City Campus East 2 Room 201, Northumbria University, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE2 1XE, United Kingdom
E: info@cocreatenorthumbria.org
T: +44 (0)1912 227 3169
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Murder At St Marmaduke’s #1e
April 25, 2018 June 14, 2019 by Colin Z Smith, posted in Murder At St Marmaduke's, NaNoWriMo, Writing
The story so far: Joseph Makumbo is attending a prayer meeting at St Marmaduke’s church with five elderly ladies, the effigies of two saints looking on with interest. A seemingly disembodied voice has advised him which seat to take.
Meanwhile, two postmen fight over the right to deliver an envelope to the Proctorpress Publishing Company.
Now, back at the church…
Section (e)
The meeting was in full swing, but Joseph was no longer taking part. He was worrying over the voice he’d heard, and the lack of any-other-maleness in the vicinity.
He hadn’t whispered in his own ear, after all. At least – he was pretty sure he hadn’t.
He had tried to join in. Ignoring the chills that both the atmosphere and voice had sent crawling down his spine, he’d launched into his introductory speech, the one he’d written for himself the previous night.
Good morning. My name is Joseph. I am 20 years old and my family hails from Kenya. I am trainee editor at the Proctorpress Publishing Company in Wordsworth Street, and have recently commenced writing my own first novel, which concerns a murder and a robbery in a church much like this one. It is a pleasure to be here with you this morning.
Unfortunately, he’d got as far as Good morning before the rest of the words had taken a detour between his vocal chords and his mouth. After a couple of seconds flapping his jaw up and down like a goldfish, he’d given up.
Besides, the prayers were progressing quite happily without him. Lady Number One was obviously in the driving seat, and a stream of complaints against every other member of the church’s congregation was issuing heavenward, backed by a chorus of amen-amens from the others. His participation didn’t seem to be required.
Three of the others, anyway. The fourth, Lady Number Three, continued to stare off as if her body was there but her mind still in bed.
Perhaps the man who spoke to me is hiding behind one of the pews.
But that was absurd. Why would somebody do that?
Perhaps he left before I could turn and see him.
Nonsense. The only way he’d have reached the door in time was to have run; and Joseph would have heard that, quite clearly.
Perhaps he followed me round and is behind me, hiding in the choir stalls.
That didn’t make sense either. Again – why?
Perhaps he’d been spoken to by somebody who wasn’t there.
But that was the most absurd of all. Mainly because it was too frightening to think about.
‘We ask thee, Lord, that those who embrace the evils of Roman Catholicism will come to true faith before it is too late for them.’
Joseph’s attention thudded back into the room. Pardon me…?
‘And their demon-inspired beliefs of papal infallibility and transubstantiation,’ Number Four added.
Number One opened her eyes and scowled at her. ‘I rather think I was about to say that!’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Hettie dear,’ Number Four stuttered. ‘I just thought you might have forgotten.’
Joseph wondered if, with all the oddness the morning had so far contained, his ears might have started inventing words. Did these ladies really believe that about their fellow Christians?
And just as oddly, it was at this point that Number Three finally left wherever it was she’d been tarrying, and arrived in the meeting. ‘Excuse me, my dear,’ she quavered. ‘Don’t we believe in the transubstantiation?’
The others turned to stare at her with expressions that suggested a snake had just dropped in to offer them an apple each. The atmosphere in the church dropped another ten degrees.
‘No, Mabel Cartwright,’ Hettie Number One snapped. ‘We most certainly do not!’
‘But isn’t that where Jesus rose from the dead after his crew cut?’
There was dead silence.
‘Oh, Mabel, don’t be such a silly,’ Number Five broke in. ‘Jesus had a crucifixion, not a crew cut. And afterwards, he had a resurrection, not a transubstantiation. Transubstantiation is where the communion bread and wine turn into his body and blood.’
‘And don’t we believe in that, dear?’
Hettie Number One surged to her feet. ‘Mabel Cartwright,’ she barked, ‘as the scripture says: Hereby we know the spirit of truth and the spirit of error.’
Number Two sighed. ‘Really, Hettie dear. Must we go through this again?’
But Hettie Number One was advancing on Mabel Cartwright with a frighteningly mad gleam in her eyes. As she did so, she fiddled with her hat, from which she produced something long, gleaming and extremely pointy.
‘And the Lord spake unto Moses,’ she intoned, ‘saying, “Bring forth him that hath cursed without the camp. And let all the congregation stone him.”’
Joseph stared at her, his mind in a whirl. Stone him? Surely she didn’t mean…?
She did. With a splurping noise that rang through the church, she thrust the pointy object straight into Mabel Cartwright’s left eye.
Mabel let out a scream that echoed backwards and forwards, multiplying itself until there were a hundred Mabel Cartwrights in the throes of agony. Joseph’s consciousness fled the building for a second, and when he came to he found himself, almost impossibly, curled tight underneath his chair.
He stared around wildly. To his astonishment, the other ladies were now shuffling down the central aisle towards the exit; one even had a solicitous arm around one of her fellows, helping her to hobble along. The only one not going anywhere was Mabel Cartwright. She was lying inches away from him, one watery grey eye staring at him in reproach, as if it was all his fault.
The other eye caused his breakfast to leave him in a hurry.
Gasping, he slithered backwards, then stood, very slowly. Then, pausing only as long as it took to make sure the ladies – and, more importantly, the pointy object – were gone, he bolted down the aisle, out of the door, and down the road towards the vicarage.
‘Was that him doing the screaming and gurgling and stuff?’ James asked. The phrase ‘I told you so’ hovered on his lips. He was looking forward to collecting his winnings from Andrew.
‘No,’ his fellow carving replied, ‘it was one of the wrinklies.’
‘Oh?’ He swallowed his disappointment. ‘That’s a surprise. Which one?’
‘The one who never looked like she was here when she was.’
‘Oh, that one.’ James had never actually seen ‘that one’, or any of the others. But Andrew had described them all in great detail over the years.
He dismissed the situation from his mind, with the hope that Andrew had forgotten their bet, and went back to his own problem. He was trying to get back into his gargoyle’s good books; she, for her part, was now flirting shamelessly with an ornamental griffin adorning the font. James began calculating how he could span the distance between the front of the church and the back for a confrontation while being inextricably attached to a lump of marble.
‘No,’ Andrew continued, ‘our lad’s just shot out the of door like he’s in a race. I think he would have won, too. Impressive speed.’
‘Ah, well,’ James said, only half listening. ‘That’s the end of the excitement for this morning, then.’
‘Hmm, maybe not.’
James tutted, annoyed at still being side-tracked from his gargoyley concerns. ‘What’s up now?’
‘I’ve just noticed. He’s left the door key on the cupboard with the hymn books.’
‘Forgotten to lock up, you mean?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Tricky. He’ll cop it from the vicar.’
‘True,’ Andrew said. ‘But then, to be fair to the lad, he probably had other things on his mind.’
Previous postMurder At St Marmaduke’s #1d
Next postMurder At St Marmaduke’s #2a
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About DAI
Kuwait National Museum
Amricani Cultural Centre
Building Story
Cultural Season 25
Ivory & Wood
Jewelry & Hardstone
Manuscripts & Calligraphy
Stone & Stucco
DAI Music Circle
Saudi Arabia Trip 2014
Morocco: A Traveler’s Account
Damascus, Syria 2008
Uzbekistan 2008
Oman 2006
Iran 2002 & 2006
Aleppo, Syria 2005
The Collection in Houston
Splendors of the Ancient East
Loans from the Kuwait National Museum
Bareed ad-Dar
Hadeeth ad-Dar
CS 25 Children’s Programmes
Children’s Art Workshops
Family Day at Amricani
DAI Classroom
Junior Docents
Manuscripts & CalligraphySophie2014-10-19T19:20:00+03:00
The al-Sabah Collection is rich in manuscripts and folios from the Islamic world. Drawn from the geographic and chronological spread of the Islamic art, the arts of book are well represented in the collection. Many copies of the Qur’an, the most important book in the Islamic world, can be found in the collection. These range from a double page from one of the earliest such manuscripts, copied in the second century of Islam in a distinctive vertical script known as hijazi to a superbly decorated, large format manuscript signed by a famous calligrapher from Shiraz, while working at the royal court of Golconda in the Deccan in the 16th century CE.
An enormous number of Islamic manuscripts survive though relatively few are illustrated, particularly when it comes to works of Arabic literature. By contrast, a large number of illustrated manuscripts of Persian poetry were produced, some of the most important and beautiful examples of Islamic book arts. Both are included here. As are miniature paintings and calligraphic exercises which were included in albums prepared for royal patrons. Finally, miniature paintings in the collection from the schools inherited by Mughal India and the Deccan show the profound influence Persian painting had on the genre.
View some of our manuscripts & calligraphy collection below.
LNS 1 CA
LNS 6 MS
LNS 14 CA
LNS 16 MS
LNS 270 MS
Mirrored Nature
RIBA Exhibition
Emperors and Jewels
Ivory Mat on Display
Modern Architecture, Kuwait 2
Dar al Athar al Islamiyyah (DAI) is a cultural organisation based around the private art collection owned by Sheikh Nasser Sabah al Ahmed al Sabah, founder of The al Sabah Collection and his wife, DAI director general and co-founder Sheikha Hussa Sabah al Salem al Sabah. Since its inception in 1983, DAI has grown from a single focus organisation created to manage the loan of the prestigious al Sabah Collection of art from the Islamic world to the State of Kuwait to become an internationally recognised cultural organisation.
The corner of Arabian Gulf Road and al-Shuhada Street, across the road from Youm al-Bahaar.
Yarmouk Cultural Centre
Block 3 Street 3 Opposite the Gulf and Boubyan Banks.
Phone: (965) 2535 8171/8
Copyright 2019 GMCC | All Rights Reserved
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Freeform Boss Tom Ascheim: “If You Don’t Know Who You’re Serving You’re Doomed To Fade Away” – TCA
‘The Last Ship’ Season 5 Trailer: First Look At The Final Mission
Denise Petski
More Stories By Denise
‘Psych 2: Lassie Come Home’: Allison Miller, Sarah Chalke, Kadeem Hardison & Richard Schiff Join Cast
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Apple Greenlights ‘Dear….’ Docuseries From RJ Cutler Profiling Oprah Winfrey, Spike Lee & More
“Liberty One Command. You are clear to proceed.” So begins the trailer with a first look at the last voyage of TNT’s The Last Ship, which kicks off its fifth and final season next month.
Eric Dane (Grey’s Anatomy), Bridget Regan (Agent Carter) and Adam Baldwin (Firefly, Chuck) star in the explosive series chronicling the aftermath of a global catastrophe that nearly decimated the world’s population. This season, the world is finally recovering from the deadly virus that devastated the population, but global political unrest remains.
Per TNT’s summary: Tom Chandler (Dane) has retired and his former crew has scattered, many having risen in the ranks within the Navy. Sasha Cooper (Regan), Lieutenant Danny Green (Travis Van Winkle), SBS WO-N Wolf Taylor (Bren Foster) and Sergeant Azima Kandie (Jodie Turner Smith) are on a covert mission in Panama. When they are wrongly blamed for an attack on the Panamanian president, the consequences for the United States are dire. The Nathan James must fight to prevent invasion by Latin America — and the next world war. Season five is The Last Ship at its most epic, upping the ante on action and excitement, but at its core, it underscores the costs of prolonged war and the toll it takes on the heroes who fight it.
The Last Ship Season 5 premieres Sunday, September 9 at 9 PM on TNT.
Check out the trailer above.
Hot TV Topics
Midseason/Winter 2020 Premiere Dates
Check out the airdates for all new and returning series
All programming news in one place, with listings
2019-20 Primetime Grid
The broadcast networks’ lineups with key matchups
'The Cave' Director Feras Fayyad Detained By Immigration Police In Denmark, Misses TCA Panel, Set To Reapply For U.S. Visa
'Psych 2: Lassie Come Home': Allison Miller, Sarah Chalke, Kadeem Hardison & Richard Schiff Join Cast
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USA Swimming Safe Sport Director Resigns After Disclosing She Once Kissed Coach Now Accused Of Sexual Abuse
Lauren Theisen
Filed to:USA Swimming
Photo: Donald Miralle/Getty Images
USA Swimming Safe Sport Director Susan Woessner announced her resignation today, citing an instance when she kissed former Olympic swim coach Sean Hutchison in 2007. Woessner led Safe Sport, the program tasked with investigating and addressing potential sexual and physical misconduct in the sport. Earlier this month, former Olympic swimmer Ariana Kukors wrote an essay describing what she called her “extensive, abusive, and incredibly manipulative relationship” with Hutchison, which she says began when she was a minor.
Hutchison, who claims he and Kukors were in a consensual relationship only after she became an adult, was investigated by USA Swimming in 2010 based on rumors of his inappropriate relationship with Kukors. In Woessner’s resignation letter, she outlines her role in the investigation, which was conducted by an outside independent party. Woessner says she provided contact information for potential witnesses, gave updates to her boss, and contacted potential witnesses if the investigator wanted to speak with them.
What Woessner says she did not disclose at the time of that investigation was that, when she worked as a database coordinator for USA Swimming in 2007, she “engaged in kissing on a single occasion” with Hutchison. She says that she never had sex with Hutchison, and they never had a romantic relationship.
The investigation of the coach did not uncover any evidence of misconduct. However, a report by the Orange County Register published last week accuses USA Swimming officials of ignoring at least 11 sexual abuse complaints against high-profile coaches. Hutchison, who is now 46, is now under investigation by Homeland Security, who searched his apartment after Kukors went public, looking for evidence of the nude photos she says Hutchison made her send.
Report: USA Swimming Ignored Or Covered Up Hundreds Of Cases Of Sexual Abuse
Swimmer Ariana Kukors Describes How She Says Her Coach Groomed Her For Sexual Abuse
Investigators Search Former Olympic Swimming Coach's Home Following Sexual Abuse Allegations
Sports Blogger
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DAAC Home > Get Data > NASA Projects > Atmospheric Carbon and Transport - America (ACT-America) > Landing page
ACT-America: L2 Remotely Sensed Column-average CO2 by Airborne Lidar, Eastern USA
E: -71.91
ACT-America
Download Data252.0 MBUser Guide
This dataset provides remotely sensed column-average carbon dioxide (CO2) concentrations measured during airborne campaigns conducted for the Atmospheric Carbon and Transport (ACT-America) project. ACT-America's mission spans five years and includes field campaigns covering all four seasons and regions of the eastern United States. Column-average CO2 concentrations were measured at 0.1 second frequency during flights of the C-130H aircraft at altitudes up to 8 km with a Multi-functional Fiber Laser Lidar (MFLL; Harris Corporation). The MFLL is a set of Continuous-Wave (CW) lidar instruments consisting of an intensity modulated multi-frequency single-beam synchronous-detection Laser Absorption Spectrometer (LAS) operating at 1571 nm for measuring the column amount of CO2 number density and range between the aircraft and the surface or to cloud tops, and surface reflectance and a Pseudo-random Noise (PN) altimeter at 1596 nm for measuring the path length from the aircraft to the scattering surface and/or cloud tops. Complete aircraft flight information including, but not limited to, latitude, longitude, altitude, and attitude are also provided.
CARBON AND HYDROCARBON COMPOUNDS
Lin, B., J.F. Campbell, J. Dobler, E.V. Browell, S.A. Kooi, S. Pal, T. Fan, W. Erxleben, D. Mcgregor, M.D. Obland, and C. O'dell. 2018. ACT-America: L2 Remotely Sensed Column-average CO2 by Airborne Lidar, Eastern USA. ORNL DAAC, Oak Ridge, Tennessee, USA. https://doi.org/10.3334/ORNLDAAC/1649
ACTAMERICA_MFFLL.pdf
Advanced Data Access through THREDDS Data Server
THREDDS Data Access: ACT-America: L2 Remotely Sensed Column-average CO2 by Airborne Lidar, Eastern USA THREDDS Data Access.
See our THREDDS Data Server Catalog Service page for more information.
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3 Approaches for Organizing a Wine List
Wine directors from around the country discuss how they structure their wine lists
Zach Geballe
Photo courtesy of Kristy Macdonald.
Even for the most seasoned veterans, creating a wine list—whether from scratch or by reorganizing an existing list—is a challenge. Many factors must be considered, such as a venue’s location, its expected audience, and the size of the program. The needs and expectations of a customer settling into a steakhouse for dinner, for example, are quite different from those of a traveler stopping in at an airport wine bar.
The three main ways to organize wine are by region or country of origin, by varietal, and by style, though each approach has its pros and cons—and no organizational approach is perfect. SevenFifty Daily talked with wine directors around the country to learn how they organize their lists and why they chose the particular organizational structure.
Organizing Principle: Place of Origin
Classic wine lists were often organized by country and region. In the past, this might have made sense, since only a few classic regions were likely to appear on all but the most ambitious lists. These days, with wines coming from throughout the world, a list that reads like an atlas can be overwhelming. If Old World wines are listed by appellation only, guests may have trouble recalling the grape varieties and styles for lesser-known regions, like France’s Saumur or Spain’s Valdepeñas.
At Del Frisco’s Double Eagle Steakhouse in Washington, D.C., wine director Kristy MacDonald has organized a list that is impressive yet digestible. “Our list is 40 pages long,” she says, “so we need to have a really easy way to navigate it.” For example, California Chardonnay gets its own page; within each category, wines are organized alphabetically by producer, not by price. Says MacDonald, “That way our verticals are together, as well as having entry-level and single-vineyard wines from the same producer next to one another.”
The Del Frisco’s list starts in California before covering the rest of the United States and the New World; then it heads to the Old World. MacDonald finds that most of her guests at the classic American steakhouse tend to order New World wines, which led to her decision to organize the list that way.
Chris Horn. Photo courtesy of Purple Cafe and Wine Bar.
Bern’s Steakhouse in Tampa, Florida, is another restaurant that organizes its list by place. Long an icon in the wine world for including a vast and idiosyncratic selection at a time when that was far from the norm, the list today runs more than 180 pages and features some 6,800 wines. “We organize the list alphabetically by regions of the world, so we start in America, with Chardonnay,” explains Bern’s wine director, Eric Renaud. “We go through all our white wine, then start over with rosé, then reds.” With a list of such depth and breadth, there’s little room for description. Within the Cabernet Sauvignon section of America, for example, listings include bin number, producer, vintage, single vineyard or other designation (if applicable), winery location, size of bottle (if other than 750 ml), and price:
4623 | Araujo Cabernet 2012, Eisele, Napa | 1,200.00
7419 | Anderson’s Conn Valley Cabernet 2012, Estate Reserve, Napa | magnum | 340.00
337 | Louis J. Foppiano Cabernet 1981, Russian River | 80.00
655 | Gallo Cabernet 2013, Signature Series, Napa | 85.00
8530 | Ghost Horse Cabernet 2011, Fantome, St. Helena | 3,000.00
For wine neophytes, the list is no doubt daunting. But sommeliers are always on hand to help guests navigate it. The organizational philosophy, developed by founder Bern Laxer, does have an element of customer friendliness, Renaud says. “I would guess it was for the ease of people in the 1970s,” he says, “as probably alphabetical was easiest. Even then our list was over 100 pages long.”
Organizing Principle: Grape Type
To match the modern preference for selecting wines by grape type, many lists are now organized by variety. This can make some guests feel more comfortable recognizing and interpreting their options, but it presents a new set of challenges. Some grapes produce wildly different styles of wine: Chablis and Napa Chardonnay, though linked by grape, differ markedly in their acidity levels, body, and aging regimens. Another challenge is presented when a single wine of a given variety exists on a list: Should you create a separate heading or page for your one bottle of Verdejo?
Chris Horn of the wine-focused restaurant Purple Cafe in Seattle and Bellevue, Washington, developed a 112-page wine list that is quirky, yet friendly and entertaining. The list is organized by grape, with an introduction to each one, such as the following:
Sauvignon Blanc’s spiritual home is in the Loire Valley—not so long ago Pouilly-Fumé was the world’s textbook for what Sauvignon Blanc should look and taste like. Mineral-edged with high citrus flavors of lemon, lime and grapefruit—traits also shared by Pouilly-Fumé’s more esoteric and cerebral neighbor, Sancerre.
Then New Zealand came along—with its brash herbs and wicked mix of tropical and citrus flavors—more or less snatching the popularity crown from the French and putting the word “Marlborough” on the lips of the white wine drinking world.
But there are certainly relatively cool sites on the West Coast that express the grape’s typical flavors while often leading to a slightly richer mouth experience with the occasional use of oak, more commonly in California.
Henri Bourgeois ‘La Côte Des Monts Damnés’: Sancerre ’15 · 75
Domaine De Belair: Pouilly-Fumé ’15 • 46
Under the different varieties, geographical groupings often start with France. “Our list is organized by grape,” Horn says, “but one of the secret syntaxes is that it’s sort of listed ‘France first’ in most places. So it is [organized] by grape and then by country, but it also echoes France.”
This format allows Horn’s personality and preferences to shine through. He relies on creative and clever descriptions to sell wines that otherwise might get passed over on a more traditional list. “If you don’t write a passage about Cru Beaujolais, people will skip right over it,” he says. “I look at some of these blurbs as stop signs to get someone to take a look at a specific wine.”
Organizing Principle: Wine Style or Theme
Another approach to organizing a list is to group wines by style, weight, or theme. This strategy is especially popular for by-the-glass menus and shorter wine lists. The primary advantage of structuring a list in this way is that guests can find wines they’ve enjoyed before and easily locate other wines that are similar.
At Provence Marinaside, a wine-focused, French-inspired restaurant in Vancouver, British Columbia, the sommelier and bar manager Haley Mercedes offers 177 wines by the glass, ordering the choices by weight. Making sure that guests can navigate such a vast array is paramount, especially as Provence quite often does not have a sommelier or wine professional dedicated to the floor. “The list is organized by weight from lighter to fuller,” Mercedes says. “That helps the service staff navigate the list and makes it easier for guests to understand. We know we have a large list, especially for by-the-glass selections, so we want to do anything we can to make it easier.“
The same principle applies at Vino Volo, a chain of 44 airport wine bars based in Oakland, California, though fewer choices are offered. With a diverse and multilingual clientele, Vino Volo finds that listing wines by style, or theme, allows guests to navigate the menu more easily. Each section contains three or four wines that are unified by a primary characteristic. “We might have three of the same varietal from different locations, or three wines that are stylistically similar, or even showcase a specific winemaker,” says Britney Brennan, the general manager of the Vino Volo in Logan (Boston) Airport’s Terminal E. A typical section of the could feature a progression of white wines by weight, for example:
Sauvignon Blanc | Makara, New Zealand, Marlborough 2013 | $11
Chenin Blanc | Dry Creek Vineyards, California, Clarksburg 2013 | $9
Chardonnay | Hill Family Estates, California, Napa Valley, Carley’s Cuvee 2011 | $14
Taste all three | $11
Just as there is no one perfect formula for a restaurant, the same holds true for a wine list. The primary organizing principles of place of origin, grape type, and wine style can be nested in numerous variations, such as grouping wines first by region and then by style, or by variety and then by weight. As long as the list is organized consistently, and lists each product’s relevant details, it’s up to the wine director to choose the format that he or she believes will work best.
Zach Geballe is the sommelier at Seattle’s iconic Dahlia Lounge, the flagship of Tom Douglas Restaurants. He is also the wine educator for the Tom Douglas group, a freelance wine and spirits writer, and the host of the wine-focused podcast Disgorged.
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Three liberal myths about the McCutcheon campaign finance decision
Michael Thielen Executive Director, Republican National Lawyers Association
The left is apoplectic about the Supreme Court’s latest effort to support our First Amendment free speech rights because it does not see its speech being protected. The Supreme Court decision in McCutcheon v. FEC yesterday affirmed free speech and struck down aggregate campaign contributions. According to liberal Public Citizen: “Even after Citizens United, this case is absolutely stunning. It is sure to go down as one of the worst decisions in the history of American jurisprudence.” Yes, that’s right. According to the far left, the McCutcheon decision is as bad as Dred Scott (African Americans are not citizens) and Plessy v. Ferguson (upholding segregation).
While that is patently offensive to dare to compare McCutcheon to such cases, the fact is that the left apparently feels that this decision means the country is no longer going to be run by President Obama, Congress or even the Supreme Court. As socialist Senator Bernie Sanders puts it: “The Supreme Court is paving the way toward an oligarchic form of society in which a handful of billionaires like the Koch brothers and Sheldon Adelson will control our political process.” Yep, the Koch brothers are now running the country. (Sanders leaves out people like George Soros and the Hollywood moguls who fund the liberal causes he likes.)
Actually what is really stunning is the misinformation and hyperbole by the far left. Let’s briefly touch on a few of the liberal myths of the McCutcheon decision.
Myth 1: Let’s start with Public Citizen, which writes: “In practical terms, the decision means that one individual can write a single check for $5.9 million to be spent by candidates, political parties and political committees.”
While the liberal left throws a lot of million dollar numbers around in no way does this allow a wealthy individual to “write a single check.” For example, the contribution limits of $2600 for a primary and general election to candidates are still in place.
Putting aside the single check issue, does anyone think that someone is going to write a check to House Speaker John Boehner (R-OH) AND Minority Leader Nancy Pelosi (D-CA)? To reach the outrageous total of $5.9 million you would have to be doing something along those lines. Many Republicans and Democrats are unopposed each cycle and to donate to a candidate in every race you would need to cross party lines. Many House and some Senate races are just not competitive and no amount of money will change that.
Myth 2: As Democracy 21 puts it: “The McCutcheon decision reestablishes the dangerous and direct opportunities for corruption that arise when federal officeholders solicit huge contributions from influence-seeking donors seeking to buy government decisions.” Fortunately, Chief Justice Roberts pointed out the fallacy of such hypotheticals that are not based in any reality:
“[T]he cited sources [by the dissent] do not provide any real-world examples of circumvention of the base limits along the lines of the various hypotheticals. The dearth of FEC prosecutions, according to the dissent, proves only that people are getting away with it. And the violations that surely must be out there elude detection “because in the real world, the methods of achieving circumvention are more subtle and more complex” than the hypothetical examples. This sort of speculation, however, cannot justify the substantial intrusion on First Amendment rights at issue in this case.
Myth 3: As Common Cause writes: “This is a return to the ‘soft money’ era, in which donors could hide six- and seven-figure gifts to individual candidates by donating the money to joint committees or party committees that simply passed it to the intended recipient.”
However even Common Cause notes in another place: “The court today again highlighted the value of disclosure as a counter to the influence of big money.” How are disclosed donations to the parties or joint committees being hidden? Isn’t sunlight a great disinfectant? As Chief Justice Roberts wrote for the court:
Finally, disclosure of contributions minimizes the potential for abuse of the campaign finance system. They may also “deter actual corruption and avoid the appearance of corruption by exposing large contributions and expenditures to the light of publicity.” Disclosure requirements burden speech, but — unlike the aggregate limits — they do not impose a ceiling on speech.
The real fact of the matter is the biggest beneficiaries of McCutcheon may be the Democrat and Republican state parties which can now be better funded. Contributions to political parties redress the imbalance that has existed in favor of independent spending by third parties, and, note to Common Cause, these contributions are fully disclosed. These parties tend to moderate the extremes which may hurt the extreme left and right including those groups on the left that think the McCutcheon decision is as bad as those allowing slavery and segregation. That may be bad for the radical left, but for the rest of the country it seems like a good thing to have more speech from those in each political party who speak with less extreme rhetoric and want to accomplish more than inflaming their base.
Tags : bernie sanders
Michael Thielen
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You won’t believe what happened to this kid’s mom after she knocked Common Core
Eric Owens Editor
April 04, 2014 8:51 AM ET
Officials at a California grade school have suspended the mother of a 12-year-old boy over her – and his – criticism of the Common Core Standards Initiative.
The mother is Katherine Duran, reports local ABC affiliate KXTV. Her 12-year-old son, Christopher Duran, attends Mark Twain Elementary School in Sacramento.
A police officer delivered a form labeled “withdrawal of consent” to the Duran home, legally banning Katherine Duran from the premises of Mark Twain Elementary for 14 days.
What was the mother’s crime? Well, school administrators and Sacramento school district officials have had tremendous difficulty getting their story straight on that one.
Last week, school district spokesman Gabe Ross told KXTV that she was disrupting school activities by “distributing information to children directly.” The information showed students and parents how to opt out of Common Core testing.
Turns out Ross got his facts wrong, though. He was later forced to admit his mistake.
In reality, it was 12-year-old Christopher Duran who was handing out the Common Core opt-out forms to his classmates.
School officials said this action was disruptive.
“To blame me and say that I had personally handed a child that information on school property during school hours and disrupting the school—no, none of that is true,” the boy’s mother told the ABC affiliate.
The real reason the activist mother was suspended, she claims, is because the principal got mad when she dropped by to ask why her son’s opt-out forms had been confiscated. Duran claims that the principal snapped at her and called the opt-out forms inappropriate.
Duran said she then tried to take the forms home but the petty principal initially wouldn’t allow it.
“She slammed her hand down on top of those letters and said, no they’re not yours anymore; you left them here,” Duran told KXTV.
According to the website of the Sacramento Unified School District, the principal of Mark Twain Elementary is Rosario Guillen.
It seems almost certain that Katherine Duran must have had at least some influence on her son’s decision to take the forms to school. Nevertheless, Christopher Duran insists that his role as form distributor was voluntary.
“I wanted to pass out these forms so that the students could give them to their parents,” he told the station.
He said he was “outraged” when his mother was suspended from his school—and when the police showed up at his house.
On the other hand, Katherine Duran took the lemons of the police visit and made lemonade—by sending the officer who dropped by her home away with a few opt-out forms for his children.
Follow Eric on Twitter and on Facebook, and send education-related story tips to erico@dailycaller.com.
Tags : clueless school officials common core
Eric Owens
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Today in TV History: Peggy and Joan Smoked and Talked Shit on ‘Mad Men’
By Joe Reid Twitter @joereid Oct 17, 2017 at 12:00pm
Of all the great things about television, the greatest is that it’s on every single day. TV history is being made, day in and day out, in ways big and small. In an effort to better appreciate this history, we’re taking a look back, every day, at one particular TV milestone.
IMPORTANT DATE IN TV HISTORY: October 17, 2010
PROGRAM ORIGINALLY AIRED ON THIS DATE: Mad Men, “Tomorrowland” (Season 4, Episode 13). [Stream on Netflix]
WHY IT’S IMPORTANT: Imagine working with Don Draper. He’s a great television character, of course, and a compelling man to follow. Flawed and of his time and kind of a huge bastard when you think about it. But also a brilliant ad man when he’s able to pull his shit together and come up with yet another magical campaign to designed to fool the American public into buying some product or another. “Tomorrowland” — the 4th season finale of Mad Men — is an episode with no shortage of things going on: Betty fires Carla, who comes juuust short of giving Betty a real piece of her mind; Peggy and Ken Cosgrove sign the Topaz panty hose account; Betty moves unhappily to Rye; we find out that Joan is in fact still pregnant with her rotten husband’s child; and we get a guest appearance by Glen. But all of that takes a back seat once Don and Megan get together and (after Don is so impressed by how she handles a spilled milkshake) get engaged.
The Don/Megan partnership meant a lot of things for Mad Men. It meant the end for Dr. Faye, it meant the elevation of Megan as a character, something that was decently controversial among the Mad Men viewership. But it mostly meant that Don was basically succumbing to the temptations of his time and his job and essentially becoming another Roger Sterling. And while that’s great for the men in power, everybody else at Sterling Cooper has to sit around and watch Don go off and marry his secretary like a damned cliché.
This is the vibe that’s going around the Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce when Peggy and Joan slam the door behind them, grab their cigarettes, and read Don Draper and the whole SDCP operation for filth. It’s a phenomenal scene, not least because it’s a landmark for two characters who were quite adversarial when the show debuted. In the pilot, Joan shows naive young Peggy around and brusquely gives her the lay of the land. There was always an edge of resentment that ran both ways in the Peggy/Joan relationship. Even when they supported each other, even when they liked each other, there was something in the air that said that these two were always on the opposite sides of some invisible divide.
Which is what makes the dialogue between them such a crackling delight. They’re both furious that Don and Megan’s engagement trumped both of their good news (Peggy signing Topaz; Joan getting a title-only promotion), but they’re mostly just sharing in the unspoken bond of being working women in the ’60s watching their lout of a boss marry his secretary, wondering when he’ll decide to let Megan leapfrog them on the corporate ladder.
They’re furious but also deeply, snarkily funny, as if they’re both commenting on a TV show called Mad Men they’re watching on TV. Elisabeth Moss and Christina Hendricks make the most of their all-too-rare screen time together. It’s one of the best scenes of the season, and probably the series.
Where to stream Mad Men
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About Deliveroo
The Story of Deliveroo
Working with our riders
Amazing restaurants, delivered
When Deliveroo's founder and CEO Will Shu moved to London in 2013 he discovered a city full of great restaurants, but he was amazed that so few of them delivered food. He made it his personal mission to bring the best local restaurants direct to people’s doors.
By offering fast and reliable delivery which the customer can track on their phone, Deliveroo has seen revenue growth of over 650% year on year. Restaurants who partner with us see their revenue increase by up to 30%, creating thousands of jobs in the restaurant sector.
For our latest news visit the newsroom
At Deliveroo, our values are at the core of everything we do. They guide how we work together and make decisions, whether it be recruitment or the evolution and development of our people, teams and products.
Read more on our values here
Deliveroo is on a mission to transform the way customers eat. A key ingredient of our success is having the best selection of popular restaurants to choose from. Whether you want a pad Thai in the evening, a salad at lunch, or freshly scrambled eggs for breakfast - we’ve got it covered.
By constantly innovating and expanding, we offer the best choice and convenience. Our aim is to bring great food direct to customers as fast as possible, often in less than 35 minutes.
Deliveroo was founded in the UK and we are proud to export British-born technology around the world. Our ‘Frank’ algorithm is based on powerful predictive technology that evaluates the most efficient way of distributing orders based on the location of restaurants, riders and customers.
Machine learning helps to predict the time it will take to prepare a meal, helping to streamline the delivery experience. Deliveroo has already cut delivery time by 20%, meaning riders are able to complete more deliveries per hour and increase their earnings, restaurants are able to increase their sales, and – of course – customers get their food even faster.
Deliveroo is proud to offer well-paid, flexible work and our riders are at the heart of all that we do. Their hard work powers our growth, and without them we would be unable to bring our customers the best food on demand while helping great local restaurants to grow. We want to work with Governments in all countries to make this happen.
Deliveroo cares about our riders, and that’s why we were the first on-demand company to call for an end to the trade-off between flexibility and security that currently exists in employment law. We want to work with Governments in all countries to make this happen.
Deliveroo is passionate about food and bringing people evermore choice. There are amazing restaurants everywhere that we believe everyone should have access to.
But Deliveroo’s mission is not only to make sure that the restaurants in your area are available to you when and where you want them - we want to go further and bring new restaurants to your area so you have even more choice of amazing food.
Deliveroo’s Editions platform does exactly that: helping restaurants expand to new areas. Editions identifies the cuisines that people want but do not have access to locally and then invests in restaurants who excel in those foods to help them set-up in those local areas.
We help restaurants to set up kitchens in new areas within just 8-12 weeks, without the upfront costs of a high-street premise. Deliveroo provides restaurants with data insights so that they know which cuisines will be popular in specific local areas - meaning restaurants grow faster and customers have wider choice.
Whether it is a local restaurant looking to expand, street food entrepreneurs seeking new customers, or a restaurant wanting to launch a new menu, Editions is designed to support innovation.
All this is what lies behind Deliveroo’s mission to bring customers a whole world of restaurant-quality food. Every consumer’s version of amazing is different, and our job is to ensure that they enjoy what they want, when they want it, where they want it.
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