In a near frenzy, Rufus, covered with flour, was preparing dinner in the kitchen, a dinner he knew was especially important. Vice-Legate Carolus and his wife were coming, and Rufus’ spies had reported that Carolus loved blackbird pie.
Rufus recruited Roxane and the small children to help roll dough and pluck the feathers off five large blackbirds. Roxane had asked to be relieved of the latter task because it repulsed her. Rufus told her she was a mere child and had no right to refuse anything she was asked to do in the household of her benefactor the Legate.
She shuddered, but she started doing the task. She obviously resented having been told to do this plucking, and was probably still trying to find a way to get out of it. Not on his watch!
Rufus had been working long and hard. He sat down on a kitchen bench, resting his head on a flour sack lying on the table, and promptly dozed off.
He opened his eyes at hearing a scratching sound. Four large unbaked blackbird pies sat on the work table, ready for the oven. Rufus was puzzled; he thought they’d made just three pies. Then he noticed that one of them was jiggling.
Rufus’ hair nearly stood on end in horror as before his gaze, the crust of one of the pies began to bulge. Demons, he thought.
Suddenly the sharp yellow beak of a blackbird poked out of the shell. As Rufus took shelter under a table, the bird soon emerged, and flew cackling and cawing, splattering bits of raw pastry around the kitchen until it escaped through a window.
“By the gods,” Rufus shouted to no one, “I’ll get Roxane for this!”