A Chicken on Trial: Chapter Four, Flying the Coop

Bernadette returned the next day, a basket of blueberry muffins in one hand, and a tower of five brick-like books in the other. She beamed at Henrietta as Claude let her inside. “I come bearing gifts!” Henrietta, who had taken a dislike of her lawyer after yesterday’s insult, warmed greatly as she was offered a chunk of pastry. The table rattled, as Bernadette plunged her stack on top of it. Henrietta nearly teetered off! “These are from my own collection. I’m going to the library today to get some more.”

“Not the county library,” said Claude, “that won’t help you at all.”

The floorboard that hid her mystery tome creaked as Bernadette paced over top of it. “Oh, no, no. I mean Prince Patrick's Library. Though maybe I’ll stop by the county one, too. I’ve found the best leads in unexpected places.”

“Don’t bother,” Claude said, impassioned, “It’s absolute rubbish. They’ve got a dozen-something books, and half have long been rat food.”

“Well, if you’re ever looking for anything in particular, you can always browse my library,” Bernadette said. Claude’s face flushed, and Henrietta wasn’t versed enough in human expressions to know if it was appreciation, or anger. “In the meantime, I thought you might like to take a look through those. I reread them all last night, and took notes, but I always like to get a second pair of eyes on things.”

“What will you be doing then?” Claude asked.

“Library, like I said. Though, actually, I have a small request.”

Her eyebrows shot to the top of her scalp. “That being..?”

Bernadette threw a thumb Henrietta’s way. “Can I take my client with me?”

Claude scoffed. “No.”

“Oh, pretty please,” said Bernadette, “I’m her lawyer. I’ll take great care of her, I promise!”

Claude laughed, incredulous, “Why?”

Bernadette crossed the room and scratched Henrietta beneath the chin. Henrietta tried to maintain her imperious expression and failed. “Because she’s so stinking cute, that’s why. I won’t make her into stew, if that’s what you’re wondering. Though I’m sure you’d be delicious, huh, Henrietta? I never have good company, and the library is so lonely.”

Claude folded her arms and wrinkled her nose, “For a lawyer, you sure make one terrible case. If I had ten gold coins to my name, I’d easily hire someone better than you.”

“Well? Is that a yes?”

Claude rolled her eyes. “Fine, but you best take good care of her, you hear? And you were holding her all wrong before. Let me show you how you’re meant to carry a chicken.”

-

Though Henrietta was sad to leave Claude, (who knew what sorts of terrible mischief that girl would get up to, without her keeping her in check?) she was very glad to get some fresh air, and once again ride in Bernadette’s fine carriage. It was a nice, breezy day, and the wind caressed Henrietta’s feathers like a loving hand.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Bernadette whispered gleefully to Henrietta, “We really are going to the royal library, but I’m taking you to meet someone super special afterward. I think you’ll quite like him.”

This puzzled Henrietta. “Bok bok,” she said, but Bernadette did not reply.

The kingdom of Novia wasn’t really a kingdom at all; it was pockets of towns wedged in a mixture of marshes and hillsides. The grass stretched as tall as an average humans waist, and the ground was mostly water. Mount Conifer, where Henrietta was hatched, laid on the far reaches of Prince Patrick's jurisdiction; Bernadette was taking them to it’s heart.

It was a short ride, the sun just getting it’s feet beneath it, when they came to a halt before the massive Southern Gate of Novia’s capital city. Twice the size of the behemoth-trees that surrounded it, and thicker than Bernadette’s carriage by far, it crawled with armor-clad guards that gleamed a blinding silver.

A dozen stood at the gates base. One approached the carriage, and called, “Announce yourself!”

“Bernadette Boss, Lawyer,” she shouted back. Quickly, and deftly, she pulled a blanket overtop Henrietta. Henrietta squalled angrily, but it was muffled, and unheard by the guard.

He gestured for her to come forward, and she obliged, before handing him a scroll. He glared at her, untrusting, then examined the paper carefully. He harrumphed, then called to his fellows, “All is in order!”

Bernadette smiled, then urged her horse forward, and they entered the Capital of Novia.

-

Freed from the stuffy blanket, Henrietta was bombarded with sights and sounds she’d never before conceived of. Buildings ten thousand times her size, carriages larger and more ostentatious then Bernadettes, so big, they cast long, dark shadows on the people they passed.

In all her life, Henrietta had known four humans- two, she met this week. The street bustled with hundreds of them, a blur of strange yet wonderful faces that beamed and scowled and laughed. It was overwhelming, and part of her wanted to vanish under the blanket and cower. Yet, she couldn’t bring herself to do so; she turned her head from side to side, fixing a beady eye on one wonder, before casting it onto another.

Bernadette laughed, “See, I knew you’d have fun.”

They turned a corner, and had Henrietta the capacity, she would have gasped. (As it stood, her beak merely came unhinged, gaping in awe.) Sat proud on the horizon, like a hen upon her roost, was a sprawling palace, as blue as the sky behind it. Domes more gold and round than the eggs Henrietta dreamed of. Spires that spliced rolling thunderclouds in two. Ornate gates as tall as Claude’s humble abode stacked ten times over. All these features, numbered in the dozens. Too much to possibly take in at once.

Bernadette pat her gently on the head, “That’s exactly how I looked when I first saw it. My mom brought me here when I was real little. It stuck in my mind so much, for so long, that I had to come back.”

“Bok bok,” said Henrietta, feigning apathy. She thought of the snake, who likened her fine nest to humankinds greatest constructs. Shame curdled in her belly.

It took an age, but at last, the palace filled their vision. Everywhere Henrietta looked, towers, gardens, palisades, all had them in an airtight embrace. They were suffocating in glamour. The last structure they passed, before Bernadette parked the carriage in the stable, was a strange pile of wood, stacked high into the sky.

Bernadette carried her (correctly this time) up a flight of stairs, in through a heavy wooden door, down a long, winding hallway, up a second, more helix-y flight of stairs, down a second, taller hallway, and to an even larger, even heavier wooden door, bolted shut.

“Here we are,” said Bernadette, producing a key from her pocket. It did not match with the rest of the cities aesthetic; small, old, and entirely plain. She fit it into a hidden keyhole and unlatched the door.

Soft, gold light filtered through tall, glazed windows, despite it being midday, and painted the library in a water-colored hue. Books, stacked on books, stacked on books, glowed. Red, blue, green dustcovers glittered like rubies, diamonds, emeralds. The smell wasn’t totally unfamiliar to Henrietta, like the paper shreds that lined her coop.

“Ho! Birdie!” called a man from twenty shelves away. He snapped shut the book he was reading and trotted their way. He slowed as he saw Henrietta, then stopped, “And a genuine birdie.” He cleared his throat and clasped his hands, “We don’t permit animals in the library, and we definitely don’t permit demons-in-disguised.”

“But what a cute demon is she, though?” Bernadette laughed, “Her name is Henrietta, and she’s my client. Show some respect, Louis.”

“If she eats any of my books, you’re going to need a lawyer of your own, Birdie,” he said, “That, or a sword and a second.”

Bernadette scoffed, “Henrietta will be on her best behavior. She’s got as much a stake in this as me, after all. Though I must warn you; she is a voracious reader.”

“Hush, you,” Louis said, shaking his head. He crossed his arms and smiled, “Now, what can I do to help today?”

-

Henrietta watched as Bernadette whizzed through brick tome after brick tome, eyes flashing across the page like lightning over water. She didn’t even look away to take notes, her hand and quill almost moving of their own volition. It was like she had some supernatural ability.

She was not a silent studier; she chuckled, harumphed, and read excerpts aloud to Henrietta, always extremely pleased with herself.

“Aha,” she said at one point, “Animals in nature can be ascribed no moral value, for they act only on their base instincts. Only humans, with their ability to reason, can do wrong.’ That’s a clergyman saying that, I’ll have you know, and one of Prince Patrick's favorites.”

She continued to fly through the book, leaving a grounded Henrietta puzzled. She still did not understand at all what was going on, and she lacked the ability to ask.

Louis returned with another stack of books taller than Henrietta. He placed them beside Bernadette and whispered, “Adrian came by the other day and asked for these books; you should take a look.”

Bernadette beamed, “You’re a blessing from the Gods, Louis,” she said, slamming shut her current read, and diving headfirst into the new pile. Now, she snorted, scowled, and muttered, mostly to herself, and sometimes to Henrietta. “Adrian is a moron,” she said, “you’ve got nothing to worry about, lass.”

Louis, who was organizing a shelf nearby, overheard and called, “You’re a great lawyer, Birdie, but don’t undersell your contest.”

Bernadette rolled her eyes and called, “Am I, or am I not right? Adrian’s a hundred years old. His brain was a shriveled prune when he was a young man. It’s the size of a fossilized rat dropping now.”

“He’s experienced,” said Louis, then, hesitantly, “and the councilmen aren’t that much younger, so…”

“New ideas give them conniptions, I get it,” Bernadette snarled. Then, she sucked in a deep breath, an action that caused her great pain and suffering, and sighed. “But you’re right; I took this case because I knew it’d be a challenge. And I know Adrian’s not an idiot. He’s just slimy, conceited, and traditional.”

With that declaration, she slumped back down into her books, quiet now, and completely focused. Henrietta was grateful she had such a good lawyer, so dedicated to her cause, who fed her muffins and gave her head pats. Now if only she could figure out what it was a lawyer did.