Rated: G
Disclaimer: Rupert Holmes owns the characters. No infringement intended.
This is set a few hours after "And If I Die Before I Sleep".
Italics denotes thoughts
Elizabeth Miranda "Betty" Roberts sat in Studio B reading The Wizard of Oz. It was several hours since she, Victor, Maple, Gertie, and Mr. Eldridge answered the questions about the marathon broadcast that the press threw at them. Victor drove the ailing Maple to her apartment and Gertie and Mr. Eldridge had long since gone home. The other staff members never stirred and were presumably still slumbering in Studio A. The normally perky writer grew increasingly weary as she recited the famous fantasy novel on the air. She found the dog-eared book under Eugenia's organ and figured that since she had no scripts, she'd announce a special 'Book at Bedtime', but now she just wanted sleep. She drifted off to dreamland in the middle of Chapter Five.
Betty was awakened by the sound of someone crying. There were birds chirping the backround, and what sounded like two squirrels fighting over a particularly large cache of acorns. Wait a minute! The scent of mold and wildflowers and the rustle of leaves weren't normally found in downtown Pittsburgh. There was no explanation for the forest sounds and smells other than...
She shot up like a missile in a war film. She was sprawled on a bed of moss in a large wood, but she wasn't sure how she got there. The crying came from somewhere off to her left. Betty stiffly rose to her feet and followed the loud sobs that were puncuated by an occasional sneeze. She tripped over rotten logs and cursed mildly when her nylon stockings snagged on a thorny bush. It was cool and dim in the forest. There was nothing but green and brown for miles in all directions.
She found the source of the anguished tears in a clearing. A young woman sat on a fallen log, her head in her hands. She wore a faded peasant-style dress with a tight black bodice and a full, black-and-white striped skirt. A much-repaired calico apron encircled her waist. Her brilliant red hair was bound back with a ribbon of the same tattered calico. A soaking wet pink handkerchief lay limply in her lap. Her feet were bare. She looked up and let out a frightened gasp.
"Wh...who are you, Miss?" she asked, gazing around her in consternation. "Are you one of his people?" Her voice had a distinct and familiar Brooklyn accent. The poor woman sneezed miserably. Betty shook her head no and sat down next to the woman.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I heard someone crying, and I wondered who it was and what had made them sob like that."
"I'm sorry, but I've never seen anyone 'round here dressed like you, Miss. Are you a fine lady from some far-off country?" She gestured at Betty's blouse, long skirt, and green vest.
Betty laughed. "I'm Betty Roberts, and I'm no fine lady, just a scriptwriter from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. These clothes are perfectly normal where I come from." She sighed. "The trouble is, I don't know where I am now or how I can get back to Pittsburgh. This is definatly not Pittsburgh."
The woman shook her head. "I don't know where Pittsburgh is, but my employas, King Thomas and Queen Gerta, might. He has the royal family under a sleeping spell, and I can't do magic, so I can't break the spell. I'm lookin' for the Sorceress Hilaria and her knight Sir Jeffrey Singer, but I got lost in the forest." She smiled for the first time since Betty met her. "I'm Carabelle, the Queen's personal maid. It's nice to meet 'cha, Mistress Roberts."
A huge, majestic bald eagle suddenly swooped out of the sky. Betty ducked, but Carabelle remained perfectly calm. The enourmous wild fowl settled on Carabelle's shoulder. She ruffled the creature's feathers and cooed at it as if it were a pet dove.
The eagle was awfuly familiar. So was Carabelle, come to think of it. It had a pair of cool, mahogany-brown eyes. It's feathers were light brown, except for the neck and head, which were pure white. Nothing prepared her for what happened when the bird opened it's sharp yellow beak.
"Carabelle," it said in a dignified (and extremely familiar) voice, "I'm quite elated that I encountered you! I have located Sorceress Hilaria and Sir Jeffrey Singer's estate, Gingerside Manor. It's in the center of the woodland."
Betty gasped. "He..it..the eagle can talk!"
The eagle seemed to notice her for the first time. "Oh, Sir Vic, this is Mistress Betty Roberts, of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She needs to find her way home," Carabelle explained. He nodded in Betty's general direction. "Betty, this is Sir Victor Comstock, the King and Queen's head knight and most trusted counselor." She was grinning now. "He's also my sweetheart. He's the cutest fella in the kingdom when he's human and the smartest no matta what he is." The feathers around Sir Victor's beak actually appeared to turn crimson for a moment.
Betty stood up, scratching her head. She faced Sir Comstock and Carabelle, who were still sitting on the log. "Who is this terrible he that the two of you are so scared of, and why would he put your monarchs to sleep?"
"He is the Warlock Abernathy," Sir Comstock began. "He and his witch assistant appeared innocuous at first. They maintained that they were merely flavoring the coffee that the inhabitants of the castle were intensly fond of. They were actually employed by the contiguous Kingdom of Wtm to appropriate the Kingdom of Wenn, which we are on the fringes of, from the good King Thomas and Queen Gerta."
Carabelle continued his story. "They slipped a sleeping potion, Valarium, into the coffee and stole the caffeine so that no one would stay awake. I was sick and wasn't 'pose to drink coffee and Sir Victor was away on a mission, so we didn't conk out like everyone else."
"I returned to Wenn to find its sovereigns slumbering on their thrones, their only offspring the Prince scarely wakeful, and Abernathy and his associate Witch Brumpton gloating triumphantly. The entire royal family and all of the servants but Carabelle had partaken of the bewitched brew," the enchanted knight sadly admitted. "Prince Scot percieved Warlock Abernathy's machination, but his disclosure came too late to liberate him or his parents. He collasped in my arms after succumbing to the charmed coffee. All of the remonstrance and jarring in the world could not rouse their majesties or their son."
"Yeah," finished Carabelle, "I couldn't wake them up either. That's when Abernathy decided that Sir Vic looked better in feathers. He and Witch Brumpton didn't see me. I hid behind one of those big rugs hanging on the wall of the throne room."
"You mean to say that you concealed yourself behind a tapestry," corrected Sir Victor.
"Whaddeva," shrugged Carabelle.
That was when a woman crashed into the clearing. Betty jumped, Carabelle leaped off the log, and Sir Comstock fluttered to a branch that was out of the woman's way. Could this be the Sorceress Hilaria? Betty wondered. She was rather surprised. Most female sorcerers in books tended to be ancient hags. Hilaria might have been very beautiful, had her full purple satin gown not been rent with rips and holes, her lovely face not been screwed up in anger, and bits of leaves and twigs not been tangled in her chestnut hair. She wore a silver medallion around her neck.
Carabelle recovered first. "Please, Sorceress Hilaria, I beg, beseech, and besmirch you, help! The royal family has been put to sleep by a warlock who wants to take the land of Wenn and turn it over to the King of Wtm! I'm Mistress Carabelle, the lady in the long skirt is Mistress Betty Roberts, and the bald eagle is Sir Victor Comstock."
"You think you have problems," snapped the raging sorceress. "A trollop of a Czechoslovakian witch lured Sir Jeffrey Singer, the knight who swore a solemn vow to love, honor, cherish, and obey me, away with a love spell! I must find him and restore him to his senses!"
"Do you not deem it more significant to restore the King and Queen to their thrones first?" Sir Victor quietly insisted.
"Not at the expense of my love life," growled Hilaria.
Betty decided to step in before the arguement could go any further. "I think I have a solution. Sorceress Hilaria, if we help you to free Sir Jeffrey, will you help Carabelle rescue the royal family, turn Sir Victor back into a human, and find a way to send me home to Pittsburgh?"
"Only the magician who cast the incantation can reverse what was done to Sir Victor," Hilaria explained. "It is within my power to help Mistress Carabelle defeat the warlock and find a way to send you back to Pittsburgh, wherever that may be, Mistress Roberts. My darling Jeff comes first, however. Are we all agreed on this?"
The other three nodded. Betty didn't see how they had much choice. None of them could perform magic. "Agreed."
Sorceress Hilaria lead the others through the forest to her home. The middle of the woods were no different from the fringes of it. It was all trees and underbrush and thorny bushes. Betty discarded her stockings when a particuarly large bush rendered a gaping hole in the right ankle. She was starting to look like Hilaria. Sir Victor soared overhead, smartly avoiding the obstacles of the forest floor. Carabelle sniffled and sneezed. She hadn't fully recovered from the illness that had saved her from Warlock Abernathy's sleeping spell.
The estate that loomed before them was a charming old-fashioned manor house, the kind you might find in the English country-side. It was also entirely constructed of gingerbread, candy, and icing, with a gleaming toffee roof and spun-sugar windows. Betty's stomach growled at the sight of it.
A plump, sweet-faced woman stood by a chocolate well, carrying a rough dark-chocolate bucket. She was singing a little tune. She wore a peasant dress not unlike Carabelle's, but the bodice wasn't quite as tight and the skirt was a cheery floral pattern. A little brown and green frog with unusually long legs squatted on the well. He watched the small woman and stared mournfuly at the manor.
Hilaria greeted the woman kindly. "Eugie, darling, have you gathered the chocolate for my spell?"
"Oh, Miss Hilaria, this isn't for your spell. Lady Pavla wants a cup of hot chocolate right away and refuses to lift a hand to do it herself," Eugie told her employer. "She said that she planned to take over as mistress of Gingerside Manor."
Hilaria became grim again. Carabelle and Betty braced themselves for another explosion of temper. "So," the angry sorceress hissed, "she's treating my servant like...her servant! She wants in on my home and my Jeffrey! Well, we'll see about that!" Hilaria stomped into the gingerbread manor house before anyone could stop her. The frog leaped off of the well. Betty wasn't too surprised when she heard the frog desperately croak Hilaria's name.
They followed the frog indoors, Eugie fretting all the while. "Oh dear! I didn't think Miss Hilaria would take this so badly."
A beautiful young woman sat in a tremendous room dining on what looked like some kind of roast bird. She, too, wore a medallion, but it was bronze rather than silver. Her gown was fine satin and her fingers dripped with precious stones and metals. A pot boiled merrily on a gingerbread-brick fireplace. Sir Victor flew into an open window just as Hilaria burst into the room, followed by the other three ladies and the frog.
"You first-class witch," Hilaria shrieked. "Where's my Jeffrey? I thought you had him fawning all over you like some over-grown schoolboy!"
"I grew tired of the schoolboy," Lady Pavla said simply. Her foreign accent was familiar. "I also grow tired of playing games. I want your silver medallion. I thought that Sir Jeffrey had it, but he lied to save his hide and yours."
Hilaria was perplexed. "Jeff...lied to save me?"
"I thought of turning you into something more useful, like a cat or a snake. To keep this from happening, he let me turn him into something," Lady Pavla explained calmly.
Hilaria pointed her medallion at the lady. "I'm going to roast you very slowly and very painfully over that open fire and smother you in garlic and onions until you resemble that poultry you're eating if you don't tell me what you turned my Jeffrey into!"
Lady Pavla grabbed at Hilaria's medallion in utter desperation. Sir Victor bit the lady's arm as hard as he could. She let go of Hilaria and turned to the bald eagle, clutching her wounded arm. She snatched a hard candy poker from the fireplace with her good arm and swung it at the eagle, but Sir Victor flew to the top of the high toffee celing. Betty held the angry enchantress by her arms. Carabelle took the poker away and it back where it belonged.
"Eugie, go get some stout rope. Sir Victor, bring a chair over here," ordered Sorceress Hilaria. Sir Victor dragged the peppermint candy chair that Lady Pavla had been sitting in over with his clawed feet. Betty shoved the evil enchantress into the chair. Eugie returned with licorice rope and Carabelle tied the lady to her seat. Hilaria removed the bronze metal from around Pavla's neck and held it over the boiling pot.
"Tell me what you did to my knight, or your source of power will become little more than a melted bronze paperweight!" threatened Sorceress Hilaria.
"I will if you let me go," promised Lady Pavla.
"You'll let us know by postcard from the other side of the kingdom," shouted Betty, who couldn't help thinking that she'd said something like that a few weeks ago.
"Hilaria, please, my explaination holds water," squeaked the tiny frog. "Your medallion is more powerful than Pavla's. She tried to use me to get to you. There was never anything between us. Her love charm didn't work. She transformed me into an amphibian when I told her that I wouldn't permit her to touch you," the frog told them. "There's only one way to break my enchantment, and you know that way very well, Hilaria."
Hilaria's eyes nearly popped out of her head. "Surely you don't expect me to kiss a frog?"
The little creature sighed. "I'm not merely a frog. Your darling Jeffrey is in this reptile skin!"
"Oh, all right, if you insist," grumbled Hilaria. She puckered up her lips and hesitantly kissed the frog. When she pulled her lips away, she was staring at a tall, handsome young man. He wore a simple brown and green tunic, trousers, and chain mail. A slender sword hung by his side. His touseled brown curls framed a wide smile. Hilaria looked surprised, to say the least.
"Pumpkin, it is you!" She threw her arms around him, knocking him to the candy-studded floor. "My dear Jeff, I thought I'd never see you again!"
"Hilaria, darling, I love you too, but could you give me some air?" Hilaria let Sir Jeff go and he panted a bit while the others decided Pavla's fate.
"Whadda we gonna do with Pablo?" asked Carabelle.
"It's Pavla. As in the Pavlova the dancer," corrected the indignant lady, but no one listened to her.
Hilaria wickedly grinned. "Let me handle this." She held her medallion murmured a few strange words. The beautiful, evil Lady Pavla screamed as she vanished into thin air.
Everyone looked around in confusion. "Where did she go to?" asked Betty.
"Tokyo. She now has a job running a one-wheel rickshaw there. She won't be able to cause us any more trouble." Hilaria held up the bronze pendant, a satisfied look on her face. "I kept her medallion, and she can't return without it." She handed the medallion to Betty. "There's a charm to this medallion, but I'm not sure what it is exactly. Maybe you can figure it out, Mistress Roberts. You seem like a bright girl." She winked at Betty.
The small group explained the king and queen's quandary to Sir Jeffrey as they walked outside. He listened intensly, then added, "I'll go with you. I'm an expert swordsman. Besides, I never want to leave Hilaria's side again!"
"The most common road utilized to approach Wenn Castle is the Rainbow Trail," said Sir Victor. "Follow me."
The eagle remained low to the ground this time, so it was fairly easy to find him. That didn't make the trail any easier, especially for bare-legged Betty and bare-foot Carabelle. They finally found the edge of the forest after walking for what seemed like hours. Betty was happy to emerge from the dim woodlands into the warm, inviting sunlight.
The Rainbow Trail was just that, a road painted in every color imaginable, from brick red to royal purple. Sir Victor soared overhead, probably happy to get out to the open sky, where he could streach his wings. Hilaria and Sir Jeffrey held hands and chatted, laughing as they walked. Betty caught up with Carabelle, who was still snuffling and rubbing her nose with her pink hanky. Betty measured her strides with that of the taller woman. She wanted to know what they were getting into and learn more about the people they were going to rescue.
"Carabelle, could you tell me about the royal family?" Betty asked.
"Sure," the red-headed maid nodded. "Well, King Thomas and Queen Gerta have ruled the Kingdom of Wenn for more than forty years. They're good folks. They know their ruling, ya know? Everyone adores 'em. Their son, well, he's a hunk. Smart, too, and charming and gentleman-like. He's also a bit of a con man. He can talk anyone into doing anything. His name is Scot, with just one t."
Betty smiled. Prince Scot sounded mighty familiar to her. "No one will break that code."
Carabelle went on. "Prince Scot is King Thomas and Queen Gerta's only kid, and they kinda spoil him. He gets away with a lot of stuff. He once hired a couple of new servants and told them that their pay would be the experience they'd get working in the castle. There was another time when he told everyone that he was with the kingdom's secret police! He even tried getting into local politics once. The royal folks want him to get hitched so he'll have a hair to the kingdom, but he says he's still lookin' for the right dame."
It wasn't long before an enormous castle loomed overhead. It sat on hill at the end of the Rainbow Trail. It looked like something from one of Betty's childhood picture books, all turrets and towers. The castle was surrounded by mountains, trees, and a wide moat. The heavy oak drawbridge was closed, and burly sentries with sharp swords and lances guarded the grounds.
Carabelle sneezed. "I know a way to get into the castle without having to tangle with the guards. It's a secret way. Only a few of the servants know about it." She walked off the trail and toward the moat. "There's a cave here along the banks of the moat that leads into Wenn Castle."
Carabelle proved to be correct. The cave went beneath the murky water. It appeared dark and damp.
"I am not walking through there," Hilaria complained. "It's unsanitary and caliginous and who knows what lives underground?"
"Well, then," said Sir Victor, who made a perfect landing on Carabelle's shoulder, "you can pause here and anticipate Abernathy's sentinels to imprison you in the castle with their majesties."
Hilaria did have one point. It was terribly dark in the cave. Betty couldn't see more than an inch in front of her face. She held the back of Carabelle's dress, and Sir Jeff held her sleeve. The fabric of Carabelle's skirt was rough and worn.
They emerged into light for the second time that day, but the light wasn't as brilliant as the sunshine that had dominated the Rainbow Trail. They entered through a door in the cracked stone wall. Hilaria and Sir Jeff picked up the two lanterns that lit the room. Betty found herself gazing at a small kitchen. A middle-aged man with a trim mustache snored over a pot of soup. Carabelle introduced him as Master Lester, the royal family's loyal chef. He was obviously asleep for some quite some time. The soup was icy cold.
A little man rushed into the kitchen. He was pale and thin and dressed in slightly soiled brocade and silk. He began gesturing wildly at Carabelle. "Hey, hey, slow down Foley! I can't understand you when you do that," exclaimed the exasperated maid. Everyone else looked baffled. "Really?" asked Carabelle in shock. She then remembered their audience. "Oh, everyone, this is Foley, Prince Scot's steward. A rotten sorcerer once cast a spell on his tongue so he couldn't talk and we still can't figure out how to reverse the spell. You never did tell me what you said to make that guy so mad, Foley." The little steward just shrugged.
"Anyway," Carabelle continued, "Abernathy hid Prince Scot in the North Tower. The royals are still snoozing. Foley drank the coffee, but he didn't drink as much as the king and queen and prince, so he woke up earlier. There's a what on Prince Scot?" Foley gestured a little less broadly. "A crumb? A cross? Oh, a curse!" Her eyes widened. "The warlock put a curse on Prince Scot and the only way to break it is to get his dream girl to kiss him?"
That was when they heard voices in the hall beyond the kitchen. Carabelle opened her mouth to scream, but Foley quickly muffled it with his small hand. Sir Jeff drew his sword and placed himself between the door and Hilaria.
"Quick, everyone withdraw through the portal we entered!" ordered Sir Victor. No one was up for an arguement.
Betty was the last one to start for the cave entrance. The door shut before she could reach it. Her heart plummeted into her stomache. They must think I'm already in there with them! Several rough, strong hands grabbed her from behind and lifted her up over a shoulder as if she were a bag of potatoes. She kicked and pounded and struggled, but to no avail. These men are probably Abernathy's guards.
She had an idea. She closed her eyes and let her body go limp as the men carried her up the steep stairs that most likely led to the main part of the castle. If I remain calm, perhaps they'll take me to the king or queen or someone who can help me get back home!
Spoof Series
Go to Miss Roberts in Wennland, Part II!
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