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She Is Not A Witch!

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Wragg said:
But I could not. ‘Expecto Felis!’ – that had been the spell he’d used. ‘Felis’ was Latin for cat. The parson used a lot of Latin.

What was the Latin for ‘human’? Come ON, Wragg! The parson said it only a week or two ago! Homo! Homo! That was it! ‘Ecce Homo’ – that’s what the parson had said.

With mounting excitement, I got up and sat Barb on the chair. I needed a wand. I had a wooden spoon, that would have to do. I waved it theatrically, handle first, and pointed it at Barb.

“Expecto Homo!”
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I am trying to help you, Wragg, since our big Latin expert here on CF is Eul, whose Latin is currently limited to declensions of 'mew'. But perhaps, you should apply the right declension to the spell, which is to my humble opinion, an accusative (expecto felicem? - expecto hominem?).:confused:
Maybe that could work? Just a suggestion!:icon_writing:

And maybe, try 'expecto feminam' first, in order to avoid unexpected situations you will have to explain to your mom.:BangHead:
 
Wragg said:
I tried not to scream as we soared high into the air.
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You're really getting into your stride now with this one, Wragg!
Looking forward to finding out wherever it takes us! :)
 
Wragg said:
She stopped purring, and gave me exactly the same look that Eul had done. It said, “Surely even a clot like you can figure this out?”
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Women are always doing this. I mean, can a man not sit down and not fix things for even a moment?:p
Wragg said:
With mounting excitement, I got up and sat Barb on the chair. I needed a wand. I had a wooden spoon, that would have to do. I waved it theatrically, handle first, and pointed it at Barb.

“Expecto Homo!”

Barb gave me one long, disdainful look, then turned her back on me, tail swishing angrily.

She was still, very definitely, a cat.
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Good try.:rolleyes::facepalm:

Wragg said:
Barb pushed it off the shelf.

“What did you do that for?” I retrieved it. Happily, it wasn’t damaged.
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Cats always push things off of other things.

Wragg said:
“What the…. Jolly! Have you come to sweep my cottage?” Jolly stood in my doorway holding not one, but two brooms.
“No, I haven’t,” he replied vaguely, “I think Barb is suggesting that we look for Eulalia’s book of spells.”
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I do more than just sweep up, and, as a baker's assistant, once we find the spell book, I can do a decent number in cinnamon buns as well.:cool:

Wragg said:
Barb jumped lightly down from the shelf and displayed her delight by rubbing back and forth against Jolly’s leg, purring loudly.
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I have a way with the ladies, er, cats...;):cool: Of course, when you talk about cream in the context of a relationship with a cat, you are actually talking about cream, and probably a saucer.:D But I digress. :doh:

Wragg said:
“Y-you’re one too!” I exploded, “By the Saints! Am I the only person in this town who isn’t a sorcerer?”
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Well, someone has to hold down the "normal person" role. And it's taken you a whole year just to realize that it's inconvenient to be married to a cat.:rolleyes: I mean, we have grounds for a few reservations here. :confused:

Wragg said:
Jolly climbed onto his stick. ”So long, Wragg!” Barb hissed at him. “What’s up Barb? Surely you don’t want to bring him along?”

She gazed into his eyes. “God, yes!” he said, clapping a hand to his forehead. “He knows too much! Wragg, get onto that stick behind Barb, and hold tight!”

Barely knowing what I was doing, I straddled the stick, and grabbed the handle with both hands. Barb yowled. I let go of her tail and adjusted my grip. Serves her right. Not ‘I love him’, but ‘He knows too much.’
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Oh, don't go all huffy now. You're damn lucky we're taking you along at all. "Knows too much", hah! They could interrogate him a week and not get a coherent story from him. She's clearly just dragging him along because she likes him. Cats are coy and never tell you their real feelings...unless, of course, their real feelings are "I'm going to lacerate your face with these claws because you're a complete pillock!" There you are then. Cheer up, Wragg, old boy! She likes you. :confused::rolleyes::doh::D

This is wonderful, Wragg.:clapping: Always a new and entertaining twist. I quite like Barb as a cat.
 
Eulalia said:
'I am the cat that walks by herself ... '
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That was Le Chat's motto. Remember him?
lccamille.gif

Praefectus Praetorio said:
And speaking as a somewhat abnormal man, I've always loved pussies!;)
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I have a dog but I like a nice pussy too. They do like being stroked and fussed over, don't they . . . .

Good work Wragg, I expect it will all get sorted out but the journey's the thing, isn't it :)
 
phlebas said:
That was Le Chat's motto. Remember him?
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Oh yes, I've seen several Le Chat drawings on the Forums, they're very distinctive,
the cat always adds an air of dark mystery. But the phrase, and the picture,
I borrowed from Kipling's 'Just So' story, 'The Cat that Walked by Himself'.
Here's the beginning and end of it:

HEAR and attend and listen; for this befell and behappened and became and was, O my Best Beloved, when the Tame animals were wild. The Dog was wild, and the Horse was wild, and the Cow was wild, and the Sheep was wild, and the Pig was wild--as wild as wild could be--and they walked in the Wet Wild Woods by their wild lones. But the wildest of all the wild animals was the Cat. He walked by himself, and all places were alike to him.

Of course the Man was wild too. He was dreadfully wild. He didn't even begin to be tame till he met the Woman, and she told him that she did not like living in his wild ways...

... and from that day to this, Best Beloved, three proper Men out of five will always throw things at a Cat whenever they meet him, and all proper Dogs will chase him up a tree. But the Cat keeps his side of the bargain too. He will kill mice and he will be kind to Babies when he is in the house, just as long as they do not pull his tail too hard. But when he has done that, and between times, and when the moon gets up and night comes, he is the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to him. Then he goes out to the Wet Wild Woods or up the Wet Wild Trees or on the Wet Wild Roofs, waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone.

The whole story is at:
https://www.knowyourcat.info/lib/catwalkbyhimself.htm
 
Despite my misgivings, Barb was making a perfectly competent job of flying this broomstick, and, after a few moments, I opened my eyes and began to look around. The view from up here was incredible! I could see the whole town, and surrounding fields and villages! Down below, people went about their daily business completely unaware of us making our silent way through the heavens. This was fun!

But I didn’t stay relaxed for long, though that was through no fault of Barb’s. Below us, heading purposefully towards our cottage, was the constable and two of his henchmen.

And with them was my mother.

And there was no sign of the children.

I felt the stick wobble a bit as Barb noticed the same thing, but if Jolly had noticed he gave no sign, and he pressed on without delay. Barb continued to follow him, but now her ears were pressed back against her head in an unmistakeable sign of feline fury.

I stopped enjoying the flight and brooded on what my mother was up to. Had she, somehow, cottoned on to the fact that Barb was no ordinary cat? If so, why had she taken a year to figure it out and take action?

I could not answer these questions, so I gripped the stick tighter and waited to see where Jolly was leading us. Shit. I was sitting on a broomstick, high in the sky. My pilot was not just a cat, but a very angry cat. I had no idea what my mother was up to, nor where my kids were. My enjoyment of the flight evaporated.

We flew over the town, then Jolly headed downwards towards some stables. Barb brought the stick to a hover behind one of the blocks, and I climbed off after an uneventful flight.

“Nice flight, Barb,” I commented. She glanced dismissively at me then gazed again at Jolly.

“I don’t know, Barb,” he said. She continued to gaze at him.

“Well, maybe she’s left them with a trusted friend. Just because she’s your evil mother in law doesn’t mean she’s harmed your children. I’m sure they’re OK.”

“Just a minute,” I spluttered. “Are you having a conversation with Barb?”

“Well, don’t you have conversations with her? She’s your wife!”

“I can tell whether she’s happy or cross, but I can’t chat with her like you just did!”

“Really? Oh Wragg, you are hopeless! Did you at least notice that your mother was with the constable?”

“Yes! And she hadn’t got the kids! And I really wanted to talk to Barb about that, and now you’re chattering away like old friends, and….”

Barb sat, looking at me. To me, she still looked very cross.

“Gaze into her eyes,” instructed Jolly.

“I am gazing! She just looks fed up!”

“Keep looking, clear your mind, and listen. Really listen.”

“John Wragg, this is your problem in a nutshell! In five years of marriage you’ve never listened to me! And, this past year, when I really needed you, you just went about feeling sorry for yourself because you were married to a cat! How the FUCK did you think I felt!”

I recoiled in shock.

“I’ve had to bite you and scratch you and push FUCKING books off shelves just to try to get through your thick skull!”

I was right. She was angry. “I…I…I’m sorry, Barb!”

“And that ridiculous attempt at a spell just now! Jolly, he only went and pointed a wooden spoon at me and shouted ‘Expecto Homo’!”

Jolly made a sort of gurgling sound then began to laugh uncontrollably. Eventually he wiped the tears from his eyes. “’Homo’? Not ‘Hominem’?”

“I know. Eulalia always despaired about his Latin!”

“For God’s sake, you two!” I was beginning to get fed up with all this ridicule. “If it’s so easy to communicate with cats, why couldn’t Eulalia just tell you the spell?”

“Because… oh, Jolly, you tell him. I’m getting a headache.” Barb began to wash her face, cutting off mental communication as she did so.

Jolly took over. “Eulalia is a cat, right?”

“Well, she is now….”

“And cats can be…. um…. independently minded.”

“Tell me about it!” That earned me a dirty look from Barb.

“She…um… she won’t actually tell us.” Jolly looked embarrassed.

“Oh. I see.” That much I could understand. “There are clear compensations for the feline life. Maybe Eul’s enjoying herself.”

Barb was gazing at me again. I gazed back, and listened.

“She’s not enjoying herself now. For all we know she might be in a sack in the river with a brick for company.”

“We need to find that spell.” Jolly headed purposefully towards the stable block, and Barb and I followed.

Eulalia had been employed as a stable girl, and had lived in a kind of a loft above the stables. Although she hadn’t been there for a year, it was still empty. Probably the fact that the previous occupant was a suspected witch had spooked any other potential tenants.

Her room showed every evidence of having been thoroughly searched. Of course, the constable had had it searched.

“If there had been a book in here, it’s been confiscated by the constable, I’m afraid.” I was feeling pessimistic.

“It would be very precious to her. She wouldn’t leave it where any old goon could pick it up. What have you got, Barb?” Barb was clawing at a floorboard.

Jolly and I got our own nails under it and raised it. I looked into the gap below. Empty. “No good,” I said.

But Barb squeezed through the gap and disappeared under the floor. She reappeared an instant later with a piece of string in her mouth. Jolly took the string and began to pull carefully, while Barb shook the dust off herself, and sneezed. “Bless you.” I said.

Moments later, Jolly had the spell book. He placed it on the wash stand table, and began to look through it. I looked at it. Reading wasn’t my strong suit, nor was writing, but Jolly seemed to be making sense of it.

Barb was looking at me again.

“I need you to know something, John.”

“What’s that?”

“I really am a witch.”

“Well, I had worked that much out. I think that the only people I know who aren’t into Black Magic are me and my mother.”

“Now there you are wrong on two counts. First, Eulalia, Jolly, Briggs, and the rest of us are not into ‘black’ magic, as you say. We are white witches, we use magic and sorcery for good, not evil.”

“Well, that’s something, at least. What’s the second thing?”

“We have been forced into it, to combat our greatest enemy, somebody who is the most evil, devious, terrifying black witch that the world has ever seen.”

“Let me guess. The parson? The judge?”

“No, you idiot. Your mother.”

To be continued.
 
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