“This appears to be the floor plan to a castle in Lapland,” growled Admiral Watanabe, in his office at the Admiralty Building, as he waved a torn and tattered bit of paper in the air.   Overlooking a busy London street, the admiral’s office was a cramped space overflowing with reports.  On the wall were a ship’s bell and an out-of-date map of the world.  It was still flat.  On a shelf was a ship in bottle.  There was a large oak desk in the center of the room behind which the admiral sat on a wooden chair.  On one side was a pewter water pitcher and mug.

Randolph, Chris, and Llywarch; along with Randolph’s friend, Bruce, had just arrived.  Gretel and Randolph’s sister, Ronnie, were waiting outside by the elephant.  Absent was Rosa.  Hombre and Colleen were not there either.  But it was Rosa’s presence that was missed, much to everyone’s surprise.

The men, even the wizard, stood at attention, while the admiral vented his wrath.  “I admit it’s interesting, especially the trouble they seem to be having with occupancy in room 1403B.  But…I fail to see what this…document…. has to do with the Spanish invasion.  Of course, I may be misreading it.  The…writing…could be the scribbling of a goblin.”

“Yes, sir.  It is,” Randolph answered.  Chris, Llywarch nodded in agreement.

“SILENCE!  Did I ask for your opinion, Captain?”

The silence grew…

“I’m asking for it now.”

“Oh…sorry sir.  I thought that was rhetorical.”

“So did we,” the others agreed.

The admiral glared.  “Well?”

“My opinion…sir…is that you don’t look Japanese.”

Again there was silence.  The admiral’s face grew redder until it matched the color of his hair and obscured his freckles.  He stood and grabbed the lapels of his kimono, asking, “Not even the robe?”

“Er…,” replied Randolph.  “We assumed we’d gotten you out of bed.”

“He’s got strange eyes,” Chris whispered to the others.

The admiral reached into his kimono and pulled out an elaborate fan, using it to obscure his bushy red mustache.  The big blue eyes that Chris thought were strange stared out over it.  “Would it help if I spoke Japanese?  Ia ‘anca ‘alkta ‘apansesJa.”

Llywarch started to choke, so the admiral stood and poured him a mug of water.

“Sir, I didn’t realize how much Japanese sounded like Pig Latin.  I’ve never met anyone from Japan in person,” Randolph hedged.  “Maybe the paintings are a bit vague.”

“It sounded like Pig Latin to me, too,” said Chris.  “Ask Uncle Larry.  He knows Japanese.”

Admiral Watanabe blanched, as he reached out to take the empty mug back.

“Thank you,” said Llywarch.  “That was kind.”

“I wish you’d tell these sailors that I’m speaking Japanese.”

There was a tinkling of a bluebell, but in the hubbub of London, the lightning, smoke, and thunder went unnoticed.

“Of course,” Llywarch granted.  “This man is speaking Japanese.”

“That’s good enough for me,” said Chris.

“Sorry I was suspicious, Sir,” Randolph replied.  “We’ve run into a number of…deceptions…lately…and…well…we’re learning to be cautious.”

“That’s quite alright, old chap,” the admiral said.  “I mean… Very good, honorable captain-san.”  He continued, "But how do we get another count of ships in the Armada.  I assume your original is being used to assist in lodging somewhere in Lapland?”

“Er…Yes sir, most likely.  But if we could have another sloop, we could get the number of ships by recounting that crew.  It would be helpful if it had a couple of sailors with peg legs and hooks, and maybe even a cannonball accident.”  Chris whispered in his ear.  “Oh yes.  We would like one man with an eye patch and, if possible, someone with an extra toe on one of his feet.”

The admiral exploded.  “Another sloop!  What happened to the last one?”

Randolph looked at Chris in mute appeal.

“Don’t look at me.  I’m not a captain.”

“It sunk, sir,” Randolph admitted. 

“You lost one of Her Majesty’s ships”

“It was a little ship,” Chris interjected.  “Hardly more than a boat.”

“It was a chicken, sir!” Randolph explained.

“You were playing chicken with one of the queen’s ships?”

“No, sir!  It was with a pirate, sir.”

“You were playing chicken with a pirate?”

“Swan, sir.”  Randolph swallowed nervously.

“WHAT?  First, you return from a mission to Spain with the schematics for a castle – I don’t need to tell you that Lapland is in the opposite direction from Spain, do I?  No?  Good!  Then you tell me you lost your ship.  A perfectly good one – I might add.  Did you bring the crew back with you?  No?  Not good!  Then you have the nerve to tell me that you lost it playing chicken with a Swan.  And…,” he sputtered.  “…And you want me to give you another one?”

“Er…You’re not asking me to pay for it are you, sir?” Randolph asked.

Admiral Watanabe ignored the question.  Looking all of them in the eye, he asked, “For reasons I can’t divulge, but which concern the future of England, have any of you heard of a person named Rosa?”

Stone-faced, they all replied, “Who?”

The admiral stared at them for a few moments, then wrote something on a sheet of parchment, folded it over and waxed it with the seal of a rear admiral.  “Take this down to the Naval Pier.  DISMISSED!”

*     *     *

The flight to England from Lapland the previous day hadn’t been any better.

The carpet took off as the sun rose.  It was a clear day.  Overnight spring had come to north countries.  Flowers were poking their heads out of the softening ground.  Birds were chirping.  And all the wood sprites were fast asleep.  Everyone expected an easy flight.  No one notice that a thread was caught in the branch of the tree.

“Ow!  My head!” said Chris as a blow almost sent him over the edge of the carpet.  “Rosa, I told you to watch it with that blasted…Oh?  Gretel, what are you doing with Rosa’s pan?”

“So, you think I’ll turn into a shrew do you?”

“I offered to let him wear the pot,” Hombre reminded Colleen.

“Ow!” said Chris again.

“He thinks he’s too good to make a wish,” Rosa added.

“I don’t believe in them,” he insisted stubbornly.

The carpet took a sudden dip to the right, as Chris jumped to avoid a third swing of the pan.

 “Hey.  Watch it!” groaned Ekaraj.  It turned out that elephant’s ears were large enough to be susceptible to air sickness.  “I can’t win,” he muttered.

The carpet shuddered and shook as it reached its cruising altitude.

“Ooh!” added Ekaraj.

“Blimey!” said Randolph, as the carpet bounced all over the sky.  “It’s like we’re headed into a hurricane.”

“That’s the jet stream,” replied Llywarch.  “It runs from west to east, as the earth turns.  I read about it in a scientific journal…that hasn’t been published yet.”

“Do you read a lot in the future?” Gretel asked.

“Not really.  Mostly I watch TV.  That’s always something new and exciting.  They call them ‘reruns’.  But once I was in a barber shop waiting for a shave - that was before I decided to let my beard grow - and the journal was the only thing I could see in my nut.  It was rather odd to read something out of date four hundred years in the future.  Did you know that there’s going to be global warming?  That sounds nice.”

“Finally!” Randolph said to Gretel, as he found a height where the carpet didn’t bounce.  There was almost no breeze except for that caused by their flight.  Looking down they could see some snow still in patches below them, especially on the tops of the mountainous terrain.  “We’re headed to England,” he continued, while patting his pocket.  “And I can turn in my report.”

“Remember we need to drop Hombre and Colleen off in Ireland, so he won’t be part of any fight against Spain.  But what about Rosa?”

 “That shouldn’t be a problem,” Chris muttered.  “She seems willing to fight anyone.”  He went and sat on a back corner of the carpet to finish his breakfast.

Randolph grunted.  “It’s a good thing this carpet’s fast.  Wouldn’t it be something if flying became the wave of the future?”

“It’ll never happen,” insisted Llywarch.  “The skies are too open.  People need and want closeness.  He held up a walnut.”  “Someday I see people parking lines of oxless carts in the middle of the road, sounding horns and shouting for the joy of being together, while red, green, and yellow lights flash in celebration.”

 “I think Robin asked me to marry him last night,” Rosa told Chris, as she sat near him on the corner of the carpet.  The long thin thread that stretched back to the tree in Lapland went unnoticed between them.

Chris choked on the biscuit he was eating.  “You think he asked you to marry him?”

“Well,” responded Rosa.  “I couldn’t be sure.  Larry wasn’t around.”  Rosa blushed.  “We were walking in the moonlight.  But he got down on one knee and held out an engagement ring.”

“Oh,” said Chris.  He thought about it.  “Maybe he was offering to sell it to you – to raise money for the library fine…Ouch!  When did Gretel give that back?”

The shadow of a great white albatross fell across the carpet, as the bird sailed between them and the raising sun.  It circled lazily, as Rosa reached into Chris’s pocket, yanked out her scarf, and went to sit by Llywarch, tying it over her head for shade.

“Albatross are considered good luck by seaman,” Randolph told his wife, as they watched the bird soar.  They were holding hands and dangling their feet over the side.  “To kill one, even accidentally, is the worst thing that could happen to a mariner.”

“As soon as we drop off Colleen and Hombre, we head to England,” he agreed as the carpet left the cliffs of Scandinavia and sailed out over the North Sea.  Far below, its waters tossed and churned.  The albatross continued to soar nearby, its feathers shimmering in the sunlight.  The carpet was not buffeted any more, but it sagged from the weight of the elephant in the middle.  Onward they flew.

“I’m anxious to see it,” Gretel admitted.  “Is England as beautiful as the Black Forest?  Can I raise flowers?  I’ve always dreamed of a little cottage with roses growing up the sides.”

 “Actually…I live in Scotland,” Randolph told her, “in the highlands.  There’s beautiful heather on the hills.  “Er…My house may not be quite what you’re expecting.”

Gretel could hear the concern in his voice.  She was afraid he thought she’d married beneath herself.  Not that it mattered, but she was a princess and he was a sailor.  Even if he was a ship’s captain, it had been, as Rosa pointed out, a small one.  “Don’t worry,” she told him.  “Once I ate houses I was so poor.  I’m sure I’ll be happy wherever we live…as long as we’re together.”

“Er…I’ll hold you to that,” Randolph replied.  ““I’ll leave you and Rosa there, while I turn the report in to the Admiralty Board.”  He hesitated, “What are we supposed to do with Rosa?”

Gretel chewed her lip.  “I’m not sure we can do anything.  After all, this is her wish.”

“Uncle Larry, what’s to become of me?” Rosa asked as she sat down next to him.  Llywarch was leaning against the Blarney Stone.  “Do you think you could look into a nut and tell me how this wish is going to end?”

Llywarch sighed and reached into his bag.  “I’ve tried,” he said, holding up a walnut.  He had to move it around, because the albatross kept blocking the sun.  “It’s hazy, as if you aren’t sure of your own heart.  Wait!  I see something.  It could be Chris or it could be William.  Oh…Did you know you’re going to kiss a frog?”

“What?  Another one?” Rosa asked, looking at Chris.

Meanwhile the carpet continued to unravel.

 “Are you sure I can’t go to London with you?” Gretel asked her husband.

 “If I get another ship, Chris and I’ll sail out to fight the Armada.”

 “Oh dear.  You’ll try to get a bigger one this time?”

“I’m sure I will,” Randolph replied.  He hoped so.  The only thing smaller in the Queen’s navy was a rowboat.  “That was my first command,” he explained.  “I was hoping that when I got back from the last voyage I’d turn the Good Queen over to Chris.  Usually a captain gets larger vessels as he gains more experience.  But I wasn’t planning on losing it.  I only hope they don’t expect me to pay for it.”

 “I could sell my ring…” Gretel offered.

*     *     *

Now in London, Randolph handed the sealed parchment to the naval officer at the pier.  Not far from the Admiralty building, the pier extended out into the waters of the river Thames which flowed beneath it.  The officer, a commodore with red hair, freckles, a bushy mustache, and blue eyes, opened the missive and read it.  “This is from Admiral Watanabe,“ he said.  “Did you find anything strange about that man?”

“No, nothing I can think of,” Randolph replied.

“Er…We admire his fluent Japanese,” Chris added.

“Yes, yes,” the Commodore relied.  “I expect a foreign blighter to know his own language.  He’s on a goodwill exchange from the Orient.  It’s the foreign look that bothers me.  Last night he met some Mysterious Stranger at the end of the pier.  I never realized how much Japanese sounded like Spanish.   swear I understood ‘Rosa’.”

 “If you can understand Rosa, you’re doing better than anyone else,” mutter Chris.

“Hush,” whispered Randolph.  “We’re not supposed to know her.”

“That Stranger had the biggest bird with him I’ve ever seen.  I suppose it was a parrot.  Well, come this way,” the officer continued.  “It looks like the Admiral has authorized you a new vessel.  Where did you park the last one?”

*     *     *

The previous day, on their flight to England, once they were over the North Sea, the weather worsened.  As it started to cloud up, Randolph subtly introduced the subject of his family.

“Either I find a new boat or I’ll resign my commission.  Did I mention that my mother and sister will be living with us?”

“Oh dear,” Gretel said again.  She wondered how small the house was.  “How will we live if you resign?”

“Don’t worry,” Randolph assured her.  “I have some money tucked aside.”  Still she looked anxious as she twisted her ring.

 “Resign your commission!” said Chris.  “When we’ve got the whole bloody Spanish fleet sailing against England?”  Chris moved over to them - just as the carpet where he was sitting disappeared.

“Watch your language,” called Rosa from where she was by Llywarch.  “And don’t forget I’m Spanish.”

“If I can get another command, I’ll fight,” Randolph continued.  “But what’s left of our ship is lost somewhere in the Atlantic.”

“I don’t think I want Chris fighting either,” added Rosa.  “Of course, he’s missed all of the battles since he lost your little boat, so maybe I shouldn’t worry.”

“It was a ship and I didn’t lose it,” said Chris.  “And it’s not my fault about missing those fights.  In Lapland we fell into the dungeon, and in the Black Forest…that really wasn’t a battle…that was Red Riding Hood and the genie.  Then in Italy we had the crucial job of guarding the gate.  ‘He also serves who only sits and waits,’” he quoted.

Rosa snorted, “Where did you hear that nonsense?”

Randolph continued, “Er…You’ll like my mother and my little sister.  But,” he cautioned her again.  “My place may not be quite what you’re expecting.”

Gretel patted his hand.  “It doesn’t matter.  No matter how small, our home will be a castle if we’re together.”

“I’m really not a nobody…,” Randolph started to inform her.

“Don’t worry,” she patted him again.  “I’m sure I’ll love it.”  She paused, and then added, not quite so convincingly, “And I’m sure I’ll like your mother and sister, too.”

After listening, Hombre turned to Colleen.  “You don’t have to worry.  I can take care of you.  Did I mention I’m a pig farmer?”

“If that makes you happy,” the leprechaun answered.  “But I have plenty of money.  It rains a lot in Ireland.”  She pointed to the pot next to them, adding, “And I’m good at finding rainbows.  Hey!  There goes my pot.  The carpet beneath it disappeared and they watched it fall until it hit the North Sea with a splash, before vanishing beneath the waves.

“The carpet’s unraveling,” Hombre shouted as he swung at the thread with his broadsword.

A sudden gust of wind shook the carpet causing him to miss and the sword kissed the Blarney Stone with a glancing blow.  Immediately, it started to swear in Gaelic.

“Great!  That’s just what we need now,” said Randolph, “a sword – with the gift of gab!”

“That’s not gab,” said Colleen.  “I’d wash its mouth out, if it had one.  Larry, don’t you dare translate that.”

“That might be magic thread” Llywarch suggested.  “You probably can’t cut it.”

“Llywarch,” cried the sword.  “You’re a wizard.  Do something!”

WHOOSE!

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

“That’s not what I had in mind,” the sword said, as another corner of the carpet unraveled.

“What worse could happen?” asked Rosa.

It started to rain.

“At least we won’t die penniless,” Colleen told Hombre, as she looked for the rainbow.

The rain grew more fierce, as the carpet continued to unravel.

*     *     *

WHOOSE!

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

The rain had stopped and Colleen had a new pot.  But the carpet was just a remnant under the elephant’s feet.  Everyone was on his back, except for the Stone, which Ekaraj held with his trunk.

Llywarch landed with his bottom on the sword and they both let off a stream of Gaelic.  Hombre was forced to cover Colleen’s ears.

“We’re going to die,” they agreed, but strangely they weren’t afraid.  The troubles they’d been through had taught them courage.  Their last moments were farewells and fond memories.

“I’ll love you forever,” Randolph, Gretel, Hombre, and Colleen told their sweethearts.

“I’ll always admire your language skills,” Llywarch and Ekaraj said to each other.

“Ouch!  Blasted, Rosa!  You better stop hitting me with that thing,” said Chris.

“I wanted one last notch,” she told him.  Then she kissed him and tucked her scarf back into his pocket.  “For luck,” she whispered.

WHOOSE!

The albatross that had been following them swooped down and bit through the trailing thread – stopping the unraveling.

“I told you albatross were good luck,” Randolph reminded his wife.

“Why couldn’t you do that?” Rosa asked the sword.

“I’m a little rusty,” the sword complained.

“She meant before it rained,” Chris replied.

“It’s my fault,” said Hombre.  “Larry said it was magic thread – so I didn’t try.”

“I said it might be, that was all.”

The tiny bit of carpet wobbled frantically, until Ekaraj spread out his ears.  And they were large enough to act as wings, stabilizing their flight.

“A flying elephant,” said Chris.  “I don’t suppose you’ll see anything like that in the future, Uncle Larry.”

*     *     *

On the Naval pier, there was a problem

“You lost your other ship?” the Commodore questioned Randolph.  “…I hope you know we expect a deposit on this one.”

Gretel handed over her ring.

He led them down the pier past a line of ships that decreased in size as they went.  They passed the frigates, the schooners, and the caravels.  Sailors on these ships came to the sides to watch their progress.

“It must be a circus,” said one of them.  “I don’t think they let elephants in the navy.”

His shipmate, who was on his fourth cup of grog, asked, “Which one are you talking about, the one with the glasses or the pink one?”

“That last ship was a sloop,” Chris whispered to Randolph.  “I didn’t think they get any smaller.”

The Commodore stopped at the end of the pier.  “Here’s your new command, Captain.”

The section of pier appeared to be empty.  “I don’t see anything,” Randolph said.

“Down there,” was the reply.

They crowded closer to the edge and looked down to see a rowboat christened “Her Majesty’s Dinghy”.

“I think she named it after a cousin,” the Commodore informed them.

“I’m glad Rosa’s not here to see this,” mumbled Chris.

*     *     *

The previous day, after the storm, it was considered too risky to fly the remnant to Ireland with all of them on the carpet.  So they first went to Scotland.

“Look,” shouted Ekaraj, as the carpet banked over the highlands.  “She’s beautiful.”  The carpet flew low over a body of water, where the female he was referring to lay on a rock.

“Who?  What?  Where?” asked Rosa.

“There in that lake.  I don’t know her name.”

The carpet veered sharply to the left as everyone peered over that side.

“That’s not a lake.  That’s a loch,” said Randolph.  “And that’s Nessy, the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Be careful what you say,” retorted Ekaraj.  “That’s the creature I love.”

“Oh dear,” said Gretel.

“Here we are.  This is my home,” said Randolph, as the carpet swooped past heather covered hills and set down in the courtyard of a Scottish Castle on an island in the loch.  It was connected to the mainland by an ancient stone bridge covered with moss.

“I thought Earl was just your last name,” said Chris.  “Do you mean you are one?”

“Earl, Sea Captain, Lord of the Manor; what’s the difference?”

“The difference is that I could have teased you unmercifully.”

“Be respectful or I have you thrown in the dungeon.”

“Oh, like that hasn’t happened in the last couple of days.”

“I thought you were English,” Rosa said to Randolph.

“Actually, most of the Scots originate come from someplace else.  There aren’t many original Picts left.”

“A lot of Scots came from Ireland,” Colleen agreed.

“That’s right,” continued Randolph, “and England.  My grandfather married an English woman, so my father was half English.  Then my father married another English woman.  So, even though I’m Scottish nobility, I’m mostly English.  But being Scottish is as much a state of mind, as anything else.  My mother, who was born in Somerset, is more so than I am.  If she had her way, we’d secede from the United Kingdom.”

Gretel slugged him.  “You let me think I married a nobody.  But it was alright.  I was being noble because I loved you.”  She slugged him again.  “And you live in a bloody castle.  What did you do with that mime’s glove?”

The glove was left behind in the rose garden in Germany, but Randolph wasn’t reminding her.

“How far to that rock?” asked Ekaraj.  “Did you see the long slender neck on that beast?  She was beautiful.”

“Are you sure you have the right prescription on those glasses,” Chris asked, as the elephant headed towards the water.

The mournful cry of the albatross, echoed above them.  Its long white wingspan glistened against the sun before it disappeared behind the castle.  Suddenly a horrid squawking arose from that direction.

“Do you think it’s hurt?” asked Gretel.

“That’s not the bird,” answered Randolph.  “Someone’s playing a bagpipe.”

A kilted soldier playing the pipes filed out of the castle and marched towards them.

“That man in the skirt has nice legs,” Rosa mention to Gretel.

 “I’ve got nice legs, too!” Chris insisted.

Rosa snorted.  “What do you suppose they wear under those?”  There was a sudden gust of wind.  “Oh…Never mind.”

 “Welcome home, my Laird,” said the player.  He saluted Randolph and then he hugged him.

“It’s good to be home, Bruce.  Let me introduce you to my wife.  This is Gretel.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

“I’m not a lady,” Gretel informed him.  “I married a nobody.”

“Huh?” said Bruce.

“Oh…That’s a quaint…foreign…custom…of…modesty.  She prefers to be thought of as…just a person,” Randolph explained.  “Gretel’s from Germany.”

“Er… Welcome to your new home…my…huh… person.”

“Ouch!” said Randolph, as Gretel kicked him.

“That’s not a foreign custom.  I’ve seen ladies here do that to you.”

“Let’s go in while I can still walk.  How’s my mother?”

“Praying every day for your safe return, my Laird.”

“Why does he keep calling you a ‘lard’?” asked Chris.  “In Wales, that’s what we call grease.  Ouch!  Rosa, if you don’t quit it…”

“Randy!”  A small bundle of energy rushed out of the castle and threw herself in Randolph’s arms.

“Hello, Kitten. You’ve grown up.  Gretel, this is my baby sister, Ronnie - short for Rhonda.”

Ronnie giggled.  “I have, haven’t I?”  She let go of her older brother and twirled in a circle.  She stopped when she saw Chris.  “Hello,” she said breathlessly.

Ronnie was a redhead like Colleen.  Only where leprechaun’s hair was carroty, Ronnie’s was a deep auburn.  And Ronnie was short like Colleen.  Only where Colleen was slightly over two feet, Ronnie reached exactly five.  They both had turned up noses.

“Are you married?” Ronnie asked.

“Er…No.  Not yet,” he glanced at Rosa.

“Wait a minute,” said Randolph.  “You can’t be interested in Chris.  He’s my friend.  And I’ll break his legs if he so much as looks at you.”

“I though we were friends…” started Bruce.

Ronnie giggled.  “It’s nice to meet you, Christopher.  Don’t mind my brother.  He always was an old bogey.”

 “You don’t want to fall in love with him,” said Rosa.  “He’s a boorish simpleton who is rude, disobedient, not at all funny, and he steals things!”  She reached down and pulled her scarf back out of his pocket.

“He sounds wonderful,” breathed Ronnie.

There was a sound of a bagpipe dying, as Bruce ripped it apart with his bare hands.