The leaves in the thicket rustled. Seconds later, the great horn emerged, leaving Dove breathless. She had to judge the distance perfectly; otherwise, the animal might escape. Oh, how she wanted to sit and stroke him for a while before bringing the net down on him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible. The chances of the animal running in the right direction were too slim to risk. She had to trap him as he neared her.
He seemed larger than ever. A happy whinny greeted her as he trotted toward her, eager to eat the apples she brought. As he reached the apple she’d rolled, he grabbed it, tossed it into the thicket, and trotted closer. Just as he reached the net, Dove closed her eyes and released the rope.
The screams of the unicorn pierced her ears, making Dove cower, covering her ears with her arms. She didn’t see the animal rear, pawing at the net that only ensnared him further until he crashed to the ground, kicking and screaming. Her cries for help were drowned in the creature’s panicked and terror-riddled screams.
The cart rolled up within minutes, and a blanket of laurel was tossed over the net. The unicorn stilled immediately. Two knights pulled back the net at one corner and slipped a wreath over the now docile animal’s head. The lord’s farrier crept up to the unicorn’s great glossy horn, stroked his neck, and then cut the tip off as if trimming a hoof. He tried to hand it to Dove, but the little girl refused to acknowledge him, staying curled in a ball, weeping.
Philip scrambled down from the lookout the moment the net dropped over the unicorn. Without waiting for Lord Morgan, he dodged through the trees and reached Dove just as the knights pulled the net away from the unicorn and draped it with the blanket of laurel once more. “Look, Dove. He’s fine. They have him standing now.”
But Dove wouldn’t look. For several minutes, he tried to comfort her, but his little friend was inconsolable. He felt helpless, not knowing what to do. “It’s fine now, Dove. Look…”
“Shh, lad.” Lord Morgan’s voice startled him.
The Earl of Wynnewood had many advantages. He was wealthy, titled, and had hundreds of people who were as loyal to him as any man could wish for, but on that sunny spring afternoon, Charles Morgan had an advantage over Philip that many men did. He was a father. He understood the grief of a little girl who felt as if she’d betrayed a trusting animal more than an adventure-loving boy ever could. He picked up Dove, cradled her in his arms, and carried her to his horse. One of the knight’s squires was called to help Lord Morgan mount his horse and hand Dove up to him.
Philip stayed behind to watch as the unicorn was loaded onto the cart and transported back to the castle. Lord Morgan rode ahead, talking to Dove and comforting her. “The animal isn’t hurt, Dove. We wouldn’t—”
“I know, Lord Morgan. It’s just—”
“It’s just that you believe he trusted you, and now you feel as if you’ve betrayed that trust.”
“Yes.” Her high clear voice sounded even more child-like now than ever. “He was so beautiful and those screams…”
“You know that you are welcome to visit him at any time. Perhaps you could name him.” A twinge of disappointment struck Lord Morgan’s heart, even as he offered. He’d planned what he’d name a unicorn all of his life and had now thrown that chance away to console a child.
“I think you should name it, my lord. He is your animal. I could choose something foolish like primrose or princess.”
“You wouldn’t.” Of this, Lord Morgan was certain.
“No, I wouldn’t. But what I chose could be just as distasteful. I do hope you choose one that reflects what a treasure he is,” she added wistfully.
His laughter rang out over the fields that led to the south gate of the castle. “Dove, how is it that you chose the exact word that I’ve planned my whole life. I have always wanted to name a unicorn Goldhord.”
“Treasure. It fits him.”
“He’ll want to see you, little one. You’re the only face he knows.”
Her soft giggle told him that her pain was lessening. “He hasn’t seen my face. If he had, I doubt he’d have come back again.”
“I disagree. I think he would have come to you even if you’d been completely uncovered by your cloak. Animals trust by instinct, not by sight.”
A bit of self-pity crept back into Dove’s voice. “I just hope he’ll trust me at all now.”
Dove arrived at the cave in the Cliffs of Sceadu bright and early the next morning. She stepped inside, blinking awkwardly against the darkness. A familiar voice from within the cave made her jump. “Oh, look who finally arrived.”
“Jakys! How did you know I was coming?”
“Well, if the screams of a captured unicorn weren’t enough, Philip has been waiting for you for several hours. When we heard the dragon get restless, I was sure you’d be in here.”
“Philip is here?” Dove stepped closer, trying to see who was there.
“I knew you’d come.” He snickered. “I also knew you wouldn’t think to bring someone with you.”
“Come with me— both of you.”
Philip grabbed Dove’s arm and pulled her away from the little man. “No. I’m not risking Dove in there. They tried to kill her.”
“Well, I doubt they’d have killed her. They would likely have sold her to traders.”
“Death would be preferable to that,” Philip argued. “I don’t trust your people. I trust you,” he hastened to add, “just not your people.”
“She brought the horn. Even though she didn’t have to anymore, she brought it. Everyone will see that she caught the animal— she is a fæmne— and that she cares enough for our King and his daughter to bring the medicine that could cure her.”
“Did the herbs help?”
The little man stepped out of the cave and beckoned. “They helped, but they weren’t a cure. The horn…”
Philip was uneasy as they talked. He’d follow her; he had to, but he didn’t want to. He wanted to hand over the few inches of horn and run. It would only take a swift jab with a knife from one of Maulore’s men hiding behind a wall, and Dove would die. The thought made him ill.
To his surprise, dwarves smiled and nodded as they passed. A few whispered thanks, while others followed quietly behind until they reached the common room. It felt strange and awkward to see people crowding in the room as if eager to welcome them. Durilda pushed her way through the people and threw herself into her father’s arms. “You found her! She did it, didn’t she? She got the horn. I knew she would!”
“Yes, child, Dove returned and with the tip of the horn for Reynilda.”
A cheer exploded around them. Dwarves jumped, danced, and hugged one another in delighted excitement. Once the din quieted, Waleron’s deep voice echoed through the room. “I am pleased that I am so well-loved.” He pretended to be stunned to see Dove. “Aaah… I see that the cheers are for our faithful friends rather than for me.”
To everyone’s surprise, the king strode toward his throne, climbed up on it, and stood on the seat. “My people, today we have learned a very important lesson. Once we feared this child. We even called her Scynscaþa. Such a dreadful name. Today, I propose we give her a new title— one befitting the danger she risked to help us. She has become beautiful to me. People fear her kind— see her as a demon. Henceforth, I proclaim Dove, Fægrian— one who has become beautiful.”
He invited her to join him, but Dove shrank into Jakys side. With a smile of understanding, Waleron beckoned for Philip. “Come tell us what you’ve learned of the unicorns.”
Philip stood next to Waleron’s throne and tried not to let his voice crack as he spoke. “We believe your people can capture the unicorns just as Dove did. The unicorns smelled the laurel and avoided it— not you. When Dove sat alone, the unicorn did come and lie beside her with his head in her lap.” He glanced around the happy faces of the Mæte. “You must be careful not to let the animal smell the laurel before he is captured, or he will run.”
While the people pushed tables against the walls and pi
led cushions on top, musicians retrieved their instruments and tuned them. Merewyn wove through the others and at last reached Dove’s side. With evident effort to contain her fear, she embraced the child with genuine gratitude on her face. “You may have saved my modor’s life and you have already made it more comfortable. We tried to kill you, but you returned to help. Thank you.”
A knight rode alone through the Heolstor Forest on a quest to retrieve a scarf he’d dropped the day they captured the unicorn. A gift from one of the castle ladies, the length of blue silk must be found. As he neared the Cliffs of Sceadu, he halted his horse, listening. Curious, he urged the horse closer, and his brow furrowed. For just a moment, he was sure he heard the faintest strains of joyful music…
Epilogue
For weeks, and then months, Dove and Philip met at the castle stables, eagerly trying to forge a friendship with the unicorn. It took a very long time, but eventually, the animal whinnied whenever he sensed the approach of his little friend. Dove never arrived without apples, turnips, or carrots, and of course, this helped to gain Goldhord’s trust. As she brushed the animal’s sleek coat, she urged Philip to tell her another story. “You said you had one about someone who betrayed Jesus. I want to know about it.”
“Well…” Philip had studied the story with Broðor Clarke for weeks, hoping to perfect it for Dove. He hoped that somehow the story would be the one that made a believer out of Dove. “Jesus had twelve disciples. You know about them because of the fish and the loaves. Well, one of those disciples was Judas— the keeper of the purse.”
Dove listened, enthralled, to the tale of intrigue and betrayal. Uncharacteristically, she kept her questions to herself until Philip told of Judas throwing the silver at the feet of the Pharisees. “Didn’t Jesus know that Judas would do this? I thought you said Jesus knew everything.”
“He does.” A small smile played around the corners of Philip’s mouth.
“Why did he choose someone who would betray him?”
“Jesus loved the disciples, Dove. All of them. Remember, He is I AM. The Father is I AM. They are one. Remember the prodigal?”
“I think Jesus should have warned his disciples of the consequences of betrayal. If Judas had known—”
“But Judas did know. Jesus told him the night before.”
Dove’s hood jerked upward. “He did!”
“He told all of the disciples that one would betray him. Each one asked if they were the traitor, but Jesus said no until Judas asked.”
The confused girl put away the brush, wiped down Goldhord, and strolled out into the late summer sunshine. Philip wandered beside her as she strolled across the green to the river and waded through the waters. “Philip?”
“Hmm?”
I don’t understand your god. Sometimes, I think I like him, and then I hear a story that doesn’t make sense to me, and I think he is just a cruel puppeteer.”
“Don’t you see, Dove? He could have stopped it. He didn’t have to allow it. He could have prevented Judas. He is God! The Great I AM! But He didn’t do it. Jesus let Judas make his own mistakes even though it meant that Jesus would die. He was betrayed, but He was ready to forgive. He forgave the soldiers who nailed him to that cross. He forgave the thief who asked for it. He wants to forgive, Dove. He wants to!”
As if it wasn’t an abrupt change of subject, Dove pointed to the Nicor Cliffs. “Do you want to go get oysters?”
Disappointed, Philip nodded. “Lead the way.”
“They were so intent in their discussion that they didn’t even see me, Dennis.” Days had passed since Dove and Philip abandoned their discussion of Judas in favor of oysters.
“Well, it sounds as if Philip’s studies did him well. He didn’t change a thing. That is one good thing.”
Lord Morgan sighed. “I worry about him. If Dove never believes, it’ll crush him.”
“It is a casualty of the war we fight.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
After taking a sip of ale, Broðor Clarke leaned forward to explain. “Christians, in particular those of us whose calling it is to share Jesus with those who want to learn of Him, are in a battle. It is war— right against wrong. We’re soldiers in the army of Jesus fighting the soldiers and generals of Satan’s army. We try to help the enemy defect to the Lord’s side, but not all will leave. Some are too entrenched, while others are too blind to see that there is another side— a better one.”
“You sound as if you believe Philip has made a choice for the church.” Skepticism laced each of Lord Morgan’s words.
The minister shook his head. “No, he has not. If you asked him today, Philip would tell you that he is uninterested— unwilling even— to become a shepherd for the church.”
“Yet, you think he will.”
“Yes. He will resist, but it’s in the boy’s blood.”
Minerva brought them a bowl of dates and curtseyed, but the men didn’t notice. “Aurelia tells me that Philip desires a home and a family.”
Broðor Clarke shrugged. “You make it sound as if this is a problem.”
“The priests of the church do not marry, Dennis. We both know this. You have not married.”
“I cannot marry, Lord Morgan, but not for the reason you suppose.”
One eyebrow rose. “Then would you mind sharing why you cannot marry?”
“The woman I would marry is not a believer. I am forbidden to be ‘unequally yoked.’”
“Are you saying,” the confused lord began, “that if this woman was a Christian, you, a minister of the church, would marry?”
“I would ask you to hear our vows today if I could.”
With eyes that twinkled and a smirk he couldn’t hide, Lord Morgan crossed his ankle over his knee, his arms over his chest, and leveled a penetrating gaze at Dennis Clarke. “You are a man in love?”
“You sound surprised. Is it my lack of wealth, my plain face, or my profession that leaves you so dumbfounded?” The minister’s voice was equally amused.
“Your priests are very much against marriage for the clergy. How could you—”
“My priests may be, but my Lord and His Word are not. I hold myself to their standard, not that of man.”
“So, you believe that Philip could marry, have a family, and be the minister of the village chapel— all of them?”
“Not only do I believe he can, I believe he should. Scripture seems to require it. There is a reason I will not take the name shepherd upon me. I am not qualified to do so.”
Lord Morgan’s laughter rang out through the arbor causing several practicing archers to turn and glance his way. “Dennis Clarke, the church would burn you at the stake for such heresies.”
“This is why I do not discuss my views with certain leaders…”
“And you would support— even encourage Philip to risk a charge of heresy?”
Several minutes passed before Broðor Clarke answered. “My lord, I would never encourage any man to violate his conscience. If Philip felt that he had to choose between serving Jesus as a minister or having a family, I would encourage him to have a family and embrace another profession. You can share Jesus with anyone. You don’t have to be a minister to do it. However, if it doesn’t violate his conscience, I think it would be good for him to resist the man-made requirements and restrictions. Until godly men stand against them, the church will remain bound by them.”
“Philip has just over half a year before his fourteenth birthday and the end of his contract,” Lord Morgan said, taking a bite of a date. “Do you think he’ll be ready to leave by then?”
“I think so. Next spring, I can escort him to Oxford myself. I’ll help him choose his studies and find good professors.”
“Very good, Dennis. I will insist that he knows he can join my guard the moment he completes his studies, but I agree that he should be given the chance to expand his mind.”
“Of course, my lord. I had every intention of suggesting several occupations, but he will
choose to serve the church.”
“I wish I disagreed with you.”
Laughing, Broðor Clarke took another sip of his ale and asked, “Why is that?”
“Just for the fun of a wager on it.”
The men’s conversation shifted to a family whose house had burned, the state of the crops, and Lord Morgan’s plans to visit Scarborough with Lady Aurelia. A little shadow, otherwise known as the Ge-sceaft of Wynnewood, drifted away from the castle. She wandered down the hill, past the hemlock tree, through Wynne Holt, and onto the headland near the point.
Her heart was heavy. They were sending Philip all the way to Oxford in just a few months. Oxford was so far away, and to study there, meant that he’d be gone for years.
Then she smiled. Philip resisted the church because of the celibacy of its priests. That obstacle was gone. He’d love that— and hate it. She couldn’t wait to tell him about the conversation. She just couldn’t wait.
The End
Beneath the Cloak
Chautona Havig
Chapter 1
The Minstrel’s Song
Spring
On a sunny morning in late spring, strange sounds echoed through the forests near Wynnewood. A shadow seemed to float between the trees, pause, bend, and float again. It is no wonder that new tales of spirits haunting the fearsome forest spread across the village and even up to the castle. Some thought it was the mystical creatures of the Sceadu—terrifying beings with fiery eyes strong enough to repel the mesmerizing gaze of the dragons. In fact, only one in Wynnewood could do that. Just one cloaked little girl— a girl they feared more than anything you could imagine.
Everyone had heard of the Ge-sceaft’s ability to resist the hypnotic eyes of the dragons of Wynnewood. The minstrels and bards told the tale of how she’d saved their local hero from a gruesome death at the claws of the mother dragon. Their songs and stories combined local folklore and a great deal of superstition until no doubt remained in the minds of the villagers that the small creature, the Ge-sceaft, drew her abilities from the devil himself.
The Annals of Wynnewood Complete Series Page 42
