WHOOSH!

There was a flash of lightning, a cloud of smoke, and the roar of thunder…

“Uncle Larry,” Chris muttered in his sleep.  “Couldn’t you do that more quietly?”

“Wake up!” shouted Irving, who had the midnight shift to watch as Rex paddled back up the Danube to get them on the right river to England.  “We’re being attacked.  Someone’s stink bombing us.”

The tired group of travelers struggled to wake up.  The frantic pace of their racing across Europe was taking its toll, even on the sailors.  And being on my honeymoon doesn’t help, thought Randolph, as he pushed Gretel away from him.

Somehow Rosa was leaning on Christopher’s shoulder.  He shoved her and sat up.

“Ouch!” she complained, as she hit her head on a cartwheel.

“There she is!” came a cackle from out of the darkness.  And a dozen chickens attacked Rosa.  “Don’t let her get her weapon!” was the urgent cry.  And two chickens flew off with the frying pan clutched between their talons.  It was so heavy that they were skimming the surface of the river in their flight.

The rest attacked her hair and her clothing.  One of them stole her scarf and was sashaying up and down with it wrapped around the waist.

“Walter!  Quit goofing off!” he was told.

The chickens started to lift Rosa.  Nine of them had her dress in their beaks.  Gretel grabbed one leg and Chris the other.

“Hey!” Rosa told him.  “Watch where you’re putting your hands.”

The chickens were losing the tug-of-war.  “Where’s Walter,” asked their leader, in exasperation.

“Here I am,” said Walter, popping up from behind the seat of the oxcart.  He was still wearing the scarf and he had an oil lamp in his beak.  “Just watch this,” he mumbled, as he rubbed the lamp with a wing.

WHOOSH!

There was a flash of lightning, a cloud of smoke, and the roar of thunder.

“I must grant you three wishes.  What is your first wish, Master?  You wouldn’t be willing to set me free with the third wish, would you?” came a voice from out of the smoke.  Then it cleared enough for the genie sitting on the rug to see who he was talking to.  “A chicken…now I’m taking orders from a chicken?”

“Technically,” replied Walter, “I’m a rooster.  But I know what you mean.  I don’t like taking orders from chickens either.”

“Walter, shut up!”

“Yes, dear.”

“Wish us out of here.  And take the girl, too.”

“You heard her,” said Walter.

The genie gave him a look of commiseration.  Then he waved his arms and the rug wrapped itself around Rosa.  There was another puff of smoke and the chickens, the genie, the rug, and Rosa disappeared.

*     *     *

Dawn revealed a discouraged group on the Blue Danube.  “I know she loved me,” Chris was insisting, but everyone else was skeptical.

“I think she has better taste than that,” said his best friend.

“I know she loved me, too,” said Hombre, “and she loved Chevy, also.”

“But she could understand me when I spoke – even when Uncle Larry wasn’t around.”

“She’s always been able to understand us,” said Chevy, “even before we met Uncle Larry.”

“But you speak Spanish.”

“I don’t think it’s fair,” interjected Hombre, “for you to ask us to learn another language, just to prove Rosa loves us.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“What are you saying?” asked Gretel.

“It doesn’t matter,” insisted Chris, smashing one fist into his palm.  “I’m going to rescue her.”  Then he fell in the river.

“Look,” said Irving.  “This tag must’ve fallen off the rug.”

“What does it say?” asked Chevy.

“Do not remove under penalty of law.”

“Drop it in the water,” advised Randolph.  “Maybe no one will notice.”

“Let me have it,” said Chris, as he climbed back.  “I’ll keep it as a memento.”

“Wait, it has an address on it,” said Chevy.

“You’re so smart.” Irving turned her magnificent brown eyes on him and smiled.

Chevy fell in the river.

“Akfred’s Rug Emporium, stationary and flying models,” Gretel read.  “1212 Burka Street, Budapest, Ottoman Empire.

“That’s were we’re going,” said Chris.  “Chevy, turn this cart around.”

*     *     *

“AKFRED’S RUG EMPORIUM,” the sign was read by a cold, wet, hungry group of travelers a day later, when they reached Budapest, an ancient city controlled by the Turks of the Ottoman Empire.  Chris’s hands were blistered and bleeding from his insistence on rowing all the way.

“Why they name an empire after a foot stool, I’ll never understand,” said Llywarch.

It wasn’t easy to find the address.  The city was a hodgepodge of architecture, with buildings, castles, prisons, parliaments, markets, churches, synagogues, and mosques of all different cultures.  Its streets were narrow and winding.  Cobblestones vied with mud.  Addresses did not run in sequence.  Waterfront wharfs and dark alleys hid sinister forces.  High on a hill was a new casino.

“William would like it here,” said Chris

“I used to know an Akfred years ago,” said Llywarch, as they stood before the shop.  “I don’t suppose it could be the same…”

Was he a wizard?” interrupted Gretel.

“Humph!” grunted Llywarch.

“Llywarch!  What are you doing here?  You better stay away from my wife.”  A heavy set, sweating man with a bulbous nose and greasy black hair came out of the shop.  His armpits had deep stains under them.

Llywarch took off his hat so Akfred could see his cornrows.  “If you can’t keep your wife happy, don’t blame me,” he replied.

“May a thousand camels nest on your head,” Akfred cursed.  “Wait.  It looks like they already have.”

There was a sudden gust of wind; leaves and twigs and dust from the Budapest street whirled around them.  And the old lady who worked for the giants showed up.

“Zelda!” gasped Akfred.  “What are you doing here?  Don’t let my wife see you.”

“Awkie, who are you taking to?”  His wife wandered to the door of the shop.  “Larry,” she exclaimed.  “How good to see you.”  Then she saw Zelda and she looked suspicious.  “And who’s this?  Awkie, isn’t that the girl you used to…”

Llywarch interrupted.  “Gisele, Zelda.  Zelda, Gisele.   Er…Zelda is a friend of my nephew.”

“No, she isn’t,” said Chris and Chevy together.

“Won’t you stay for tea?” Gisele asked.

“How do you know Akfred,” a disturbed Llywarch whispered in Zelda’s ear.

“A girl doesn’t tell all her secrets.”  Zelda batted her scrawny eyelashes at Llywarch and followed Gisele into the shop.

Irving decided to bat her eyelashes at Chevy and he ran into a display of rugs, tumbling some of them to the floor, but setting the flying ones careening about the room.

“You can call me Fred,” Akfred said to Gretel, as he led her in.

“He’d better stay away from my wife,” Randolph muttered, as he followed them.

“How do you know Gisele?” Chris whispered to his uncle as they sat dinking tea.  He was not using proper form; his hands were too blistered and sore to extend his pinky finger.

“I was all set to marry her years ago,” Llywarch whispered back.  He sighed, “We were in love.  She told me that she couldn’t wish to be more happy.  Like a fool, I said, “’Go ahead…wish it.’  Next thing I know, she was married to Akfred.”

Zelda yanked on one of his cornrows.  “So that’s what happened,” she said.  “He was supposed to marry me.”

Chris changed the subject.  “Akfred,” he asked, “What can you tell us about this tag?”

On seeing the tag, Akfred whispered, “The police don’t know you removed that, do they?”

“We didn’t!” everyone insisted.  “It just fell off.”

Akfred laughed.  “That’s just a little rug merchant humor.  The police almost never prosecute for tag removal.”

“Oh, Awkie!  You’re terrible.”  Gisele giggled and punched him on the arm.

“Let me see it,” Awkie said.  “I remember this one.  See here’s the serial number.  This was sold to a genie who lives at the end of the Danube down near the Black Sea.  There’s a delta there.  I hear he has problems.  He’s always in the bottle, something like that…or maybe it’s a lamp.

*     *     *

“This is not what you really call a rug,” Akfred explained.  “It’s more like wall-to-wall carpeting, but it’s the only thing I have that’s big enough to carry all of you to the Black Sea.”

“How much does it cost?” Randolph asked suspiciously.

“Consider it a wedding gift.  Now will you please go – and take Zelda with you - before my wife finds out about her.  The delta is that way,” he pointed down river.

“Thank you, Fred,” said Gretel, as she kissed him on the cheek.  “You’re a wonderful man…ouch…somebody pinched me.”

*     *     *

“Henrietta!  Can you come and scrub my back,” Walter crowed from the penthouse of his new gambling casino, high on a hill overlooking Budapest.  He had put his other two wishes to good use.  Along with being the proud owner of the casino, he had a penthouse filled to overflowing with fermented corn kernels.  The spent lamp was lit and set on a table in Rosa’s prison.  She didn’t know there was a genie in it, and Walter didn’t have any other light to put in the windowless room, with rock walls and no escape. 

She was locked in awaiting word to get to Don Swan that she was available for him to marry.

“I’d sooner marry a chicken,” she threatened.

Walter had to explain to her, “Well…to a rooster…you’re not all that attractive…perhaps if you dressed in more browns.”

Rosa rolled her eyes, yanked her scarf from him, and slammed the door in his face.

A chicken jumped up on the edge of the bathtub and started to scrub behind Walter’s ears.

Walter leaned back,” Oh, Henrietta…Henrietta,” he sighed contentedly.

Wham!  The hen walloped him with the brush.  “Henrietta-Henrietta!  Has that two-named hussy been bothering you again?”

*     *     *

“Perhaps we could go to England first and drop off this list,” suggested Randolph, as the wall-to-wall carpet lifted them high above the city of Budapest.  “Maybe not,” he decided as the others glared at him.

“Larry, tell us about Fred,” Gretel and Irving asked.  “Is he a wizard, too?”

“Technically, I guess so,” answered Llywarch, “but he’s not much of one.  All he can do is make things fly.  He had a hard time of it until he settled on rugs.  He tried animals first.  Of course, with birds nobody believed it was him.  They believed it with the cows…but you don’t want to be under one of those things when...well…  Then there was that unfortunate incident about the moon.  He bluffed his way out of that.  ‘The cow jumped’, he claimed.  The women seem to love him – just because he has a full head of hair.  But can he braid it?  No!”  Llywarch pulled off his hat and ran his fingers through his rows.

“My, how time flies.  I think I have to go home,” Zelda said.  And she stepped of the carpet and was gone.

“Uncle Larry, can you tell where we’re headed?” asked Christopher.

“I haven’t got any nuts,” Llywarch grumbled.

“Chevy, just follow the river,” Chris ordered.

*     *     *

Rosa was awoken by someone trying to pick the lock on her door.  “Who is it?” she asked.

“Shhh!” she was warned.  “Do you want to wake the chickens?”

The chickens had been up most the night singing and eating fermented popcorn, heated in Rosa’s pan.  Now they were passed out all over the penthouse looking much like road kill.

“What are you doing?” Rosa whispered to whoever was on the other side.

“I’m trying to pick the lock.  Is there any gold in there?”

“No,” answered Rosa.  “There’s only a table and a lamp.  Oh, and there’s straw on the floor.”

“Straw?  You couldn’t spin that into gold, could you?”

“I’m sorry,” answered Rosa.  “I don’t know how to spin.  You wouldn’t settle for embroidery – or maybe knitting?  What’s taking so long?”

“I can’t find the lock.  All there is out here is a latch.”

Rosa rolled her eyes.  “Try lifting it,” she suggested – not at all politely.

“Oh,” and the door swung open.

“Chris,” Rosa exclaimed and she threw herself into the arms of a person she thought she knew.  “Christopher Morris, thank you for rescuing me.  I told myself that if I ever saw you again, I would admit it.  I understand every word you say.”  Then she kissed him.

William Morris, Christopher’s vagabond brother, was delighted to have this beautiful young woman in his arms.  And since he’d been learned Spanish during an incarceration in Madrid, he understood her.  “I can understand every word you say too,” he responded, with a chuckle.  “It must be true love.”

“Chris,” Rosa said shyly.  “I didn’t realize you would be such a good kisser.”  She reached up and rubbed his unshaved chin.  “When did you quit shaving.  You look…intriguing.”

“Is there nothing in this room worth stealing?”  William stepped through the door and looked around.

“Only that old lamp, I suppose,” answered Rosa puzzled.  “I really can’t do anything with straw.”

“Say, isn’t your father Huberto Alonzo Miguel Rojo, the tax collector?”  William had been chained to Huberto in Spain, forced to endure Huberto’s talk about goodness, kindness, and the worth of man.  William didn’t believe any of it, but it’s hard to ignore someone you’re chained to.  He almost volunteered for the rack.  Instead he struggled until he figured out how to pick the locks.

“You know he is, Chris.  He’s being held by the Inquisition.  Have you had a bump on the head?”

“Er…I believe he’s escaped.  I think he’s on his way to the New World.”  William knew that he’d escaped, having left him in the streets of Madrid.

“Oh!  You rescued him like you promised.  Thank you!  Thank you!”  She kissed him again and again.  He definitely was better at that than she thought he would be.

“Let’s get out of here,” suggested William, after his senses stop reeling.  “But first let me get this lamp.” And he shoved it into a bag he had draped across his shoulder.  “No sense coming all this way for nothing.”

As they stepped over comatose chickens and avoided slipping in fermented corn on their way out, Walter raised his weary head.  “Oh, my aching head,” he said.  Then he saw the two escapees.  “William,” he called, “…Oww, my head hurts…When did you get here?  Did you get the flying rug I sent?  What are you doing with Rosa?”  He look at the two of them through blurry eyes.  He was using English, so Rosa didn’t understand a word.

“I caught her trying to escape,” William said, grabbing Rosa by the arm.  He used English also.  “She had this with her.”  He showed the bag to Walter.  It was full of casino chips.  The lamp was at the bottom.

“There’s not any corn in there, is there?” asked Walter, shoving his beak into the bag.

“I don’t think I love  you, at this moment,” Rosa said confused.

“Trust me,” William whispered in Spanish.”

“Okay,” said Rosa.  “Ouch!  Somebody pinched me.”

“What’s this?” the leader of HEN popped up from behind a mound of popcorn.  ‘Oww,” she said, as she banged her head on Rosa’s frying pan.  “Henrietta!’ she called out.  “Catch them.  They’re trying to escape.”

All over the room chickens came to life.  With some “Oohs” and “Owws” they formed a ragged attack force and launched at the escapees.  All that is except for Henrietta-Henrietta, who sat there with her wings folded.  “She never called my name,” she insisted.

Rosa side stepped the first wave of chickens and headed for the leader.  “Awk!” she said and darted to safety behind the other chickens, allowing Rosa to recapture her pan

“Oh, Henrietta…Henrietta,” Rosa called.

“What?” said Henrietta-Henrietta, indignantly.

Rosa swung.

“I never liked that two-name hussy anyway,” said the leader.

William put his hands up in surrender.  And the chickens left Walter to guard him.

“I always like your parties,” William told him.

“Look at the cute tail on that hen,” Walter responded.  “This bag is heavy.  Are you sure you don’t have any corn in it.”

“Trust me,” William said, crossing his heart.

They both laughed.

Rosa side stepped a frontal attack and feinted to her left.  There was another “Awk” and the HEN leader insisted, “Form a line right here.  Yes, in front of me.”

“If you can get her to come over here, I think I can get the weapon from her,” William told Walter.

Walter gave a sharp whistle and challenged, “Why don’t you come over here and we’ll settle this one-on-one, mano a mano.”

All the hens oohed and awed.  “Walter’s so brave,” they said.

 “You’re sure you can get that pan away from her, aren’t you?” Walter whispered.

“Trust me,” William said, crossing his heart again.

Rosa approached the rooster, swinging the pan.  “You’re going to be the eighteenth notch on my handle,” she told him.

“Murderess!” the hens gasped.

Rosa didn’t notice William slip behind her.  He was close enough to grab her when she lifted the pan high.  In fact he was too close…

Klung!

William went down with a thud!

“Well.  That’s okay then,” one of the chickens mumbled.  “It’s not as through she hit a hen,” said another.  “I didn’t see it,” said a third.  “Do you think we could get her to do it again?”

“Oh Chris!  I’m so sorry.”  Dropping the pan, Rosa knelt down to take his head in her hands when the chickens overpowered her

They were thrown back into the prison, pan and all.  Rosa could hear nails being pounded into the latch on the other side.  And the leader telling Walter that this proved the female was deadlier than the male of the species.

“Yes, dear,” he said.

Rosa was disgusted with the person she thought was Chris.  She’d never seen him win a fight – not in the Atlantic, not the Piazza, nor in the forest.  Rosa found a jug of water the chickens had left, and she threw it on him.  He woke up sputtering and cursing.

“I’m glad I didn’t understand that,” Rosa said.  “I must only love you when you’re nice.”

“That’s good, because I’m a lover, not a fighter,” he said - this time in Spanish.

“Don’t dare try to kiss me until you’ve beaten somebody up,” Rosa threatened with her pan.

William got up and kicked the door.

“It’s no use,” She told him.  “They nailed it shut.”

“Yes, that happens to me a lot,” William replied.

“What?”

“It’s dark in here.  Where’s that old lamp.  Help me hold it.  I think I have a match.

WHOOSH!

There was a flash of lightning, a cloud of smoke, and the roar of thunder…

“I must grant you three wishes.  What is your first wish, Master?  You wouldn’t be willing to set me free with the third wish, would you?” came a voice from out of the smoke.  Then it cleared enough for the genie to see who he was talking to.  “Good,” he said.  “At least it’s not a chicken.”