The Daring of Della Dupree

by Natasha Lowe

  The moon was bright, and a silvery glow flooded the courtyard. Della crept over to the stables, and as soon as she was behind them, she squatted down and whispered, “You can come out now, Mary.”

  The rat scuttled onto the ground and sat in front of Della. “Don’t change back yet,” Della whispered. “It’s safer this way. Wait till we get to Dame Bessie’s.” Mary stared hard at Della, keeping her gaze focused, and all of a sudden Della could hear Mary’s voice in her head. She looked around to see if anyone else had spoken, but it definitely sounded like Mary, and it definitely wasn’t coming from outside. “I think I can understand what you’re saying,” Della whispered, “and of course you’re scared, Mary. Can you tell me what happened?” Did being back here in medieval times make her more open to this sort of magic, Della wondered, because clear as day it was as if Mary was talking to her.

  “My brothers saw me flying.” Mary kept her eyes fixed on Della’s face. “I was sweeping the floor with a new broom Pa had bought at the Deckle Mead market. Halfway across the room it started twitching, and before I could let go, it had lifted me into the air.”

  “I bet it was made of cherry wood,” Della said softly. “Isn’t that the one you had a strong reaction to?”

  Mary nodded, her whiskers quivering. “They just stood there,” Della could hear her saying, “mouths hanging open, staring at me. And not knowing what else to do, the second I came down I turned into a rat and ran away.”

  “Oh, Mary,” Della whispered, stroking the rat’s soft fur. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I should have taken the memory out of their heads, but there were two of them, and I got scared.…”

  “Of course you did,” Della murmured, thinking that if anyone saw her talking to a rat, they would believe she was insane. “But it’s not too late,” Della whispered. “Dame Bessie will figure out what to do. I promise it’s going to be fine, Mary.” Although Della knew she shouldn’t be promising anything of the sort. Especially when she looked for her beech branch and discovered that it wasn’t there. “I had a feeling this was going to happen, but did it have to be tonight?” Della fretted, hunting around in a panic. But the branch had definitely gone. Probably burned in the kitchen fire by now.

  “We’re going to have to walk, Mary,” Della said, trying to keep her voice steady.

  The rat’s eyes swam with fear. “What if they’re out looking for me?”

  “No one will see you,” Della whispered, picking Mary up and putting her gently in her pocket. “It’s going to be fun, an adventure,” she added, except there was nothing fun about this at all.

  As Della walked over the drawbridge, she could feel the warm weight of Mary pressing against her. It was actually rather comforting, having a small furry creature tucked up in her pocket again.

  “Who goes there?” a gruff voice demanded, and one of Lord Hepworth’s knights loomed up in front of her.

  “I—I work at the castle,” Della said, desperately trying to think of what to say. The guard towered above her, and in the silvery light Della could see the metal glint of his sword. “I’m off to pick night mushrooms for the lord’s breakfast,” she blurted out.

  “Night mushrooms?”

  “Yes, of course. You must know that you can only pick them when the moon is bright. Otherwise they won’t have the flavor.” Della couldn’t believe she had said something quite so ridiculous, but it was too late to change her story now.

  The guard looked puzzled. “You’re the one that makes that pheasant stew?”

  “I am, and you wait till you taste my fried night mushrooms,” Della said. “You have heard of night mushrooms, I presume?” She looked straight up at the knight, even though her mouth was dry and her palms were damp.

  “Of course I have.” The knight nodded somberly. “A rare delicacy indeed.” He waved Della past, and with Mary in her pocket, she hurried as fast as she could toward Dame Bessie’s.

  Chapter Twenty

  Things Get Dramatically Worse

  FINDING HER WAY THROUGH THE wood wasn’t easy, especially when Della was used to approaching Dame Bessie’s by air. She kept stopping to listen, sure that she could hear twigs snapping behind her, but whenever she froze and held her breath, the only sound Della heard was the soft distant hoot of an owl. It was a relief to finally see the dark shapes of Tambor and Bralin sitting on the gateposts, still as statues, keeping watch over the night. Della stroked Tambor’s head as she walked through the gate, glancing back at a scuffle of leaves.

  “Probably just an animal,” Della whispered, straining her ears. She was so anxious, of course she was hearing noises.

  Dame Bessie could tell something was wrong the second she opened the door. Della burst inside, but before she could speak, Dame Bessie put a finger against her lips. “Remember, the forest has ears.”

  The second Dame Bessie closed the door, Della exploded, “I don’t know what to do, Dame Bessie,” filling her in on the crystal ball she had found and the vision she was sure she had seen. “What if I’m right, and Lord Hepworth’s brother is planning to attack the castle?”

  “Then we have a catastrophe on our hands,” Dame Bessie pronounced soberly. She glanced at the door. “We must go downstairs to talk. You go on ahead, Della. I’ll wait for Mary to get here.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot. Mary is here,” Della said, opening up her pocket. The little rat was curled in a ball, snoring away softly. “Her brothers caught her floating from a broom, and she didn’t know what else to do.”

  Dame Bessie nodded. “Don’t wake the poor child. She’s going to have to face this soon enough.” The old woman had just pulled out her wand and opened up the staircase when Tambor and Bralin started shrieking. “What in the world?” Dame Bessie said, but before she had time to find out who had disturbed the birds, the cottage door was shoved open, and in stormed a cluster of knights.

  “In the name of King Henry, you are all under arrest.” One of the knights grabbed Della by the arm. “Wicked creatures! Don’t even attempt to put me under a hex.”

  “I don’t know any hexes,” Della cried, trying to pull away.

  Keeping a tight grip on her, the knight held out his free hand. “Give me your magic stick,” he demanded.

  Seeing no escape, Della pulled the wand from her pocket. The knight broke it in half and threw the pieces on the fire. Dame Bessie’s wand followed, and Della watched in horror as Willow, Faye, Gwyneth, and Isolda were marched up the stairs by two more knights.

  “Found these witches in the basement,” one of the knights said, giving Faye a rough prod in the back. “Casting their evil magic about.”

  “No we weren’t,” Faye cried out, and little Gwyneth started to cry.

  “I want my mama,” Gwyneth sobbed. “You are not nice.”

  The knights confiscated the rest of the wands, and with a crackle and hiss, the pile of sticks went up in flames. Heavy chains were snapped around the girls’ wrists, and they were hustled outside. A cart stood in front of the cottage. Tambor and Bralin circled around it, dipping and diving and squawking in the driver’s face.

  “Up you go,” one of the knights said, herding Dame Bessie and the girls into the back. “Filthy, stinking witches.” He looked at Della in disgust. “And to think you’ve been hiding in the castle, right under our noses.”

  “I wasn’t hiding,” Della said, lifting her chin up and refusing to look away. She didn’t know where this courage was coming from, but she couldn’t stay silent any longer. Especially since she was about to be locked in a dungeon. “And we are no more filthy or stinking than you.”

  “His lordship is going to be most upset when he finds out he’s been harboring a witch.”

  Della could feel Mary waking up, her little paws scrabbling about. “Stay still,” she whispered. The guard stared at her, and Della pretended she was talking to Gwyneth. “It’s going to be all right, Gwyneth,” she said, putting her arm around the trembling girl beside her. But it wasn’t all right at all. Things
couldn’t get much worse. And that’s when Della caught a glimpse of Tom Foolery, lurking behind some trees. It was definitely the jester, his peculiar floppy hat making him look like a strange-headed beast in the moonlight. “Did you follow me?” she cried out. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  Tom Foolery didn’t reply.

  “Why would you do this?” Della shouted. “I’ve never done anything terrible to you, or Lord Hepworth.”

  The knights mounted their horses, and the cart began to move. Some of the riders held flaming torches, and as the cart rolled past the jester, he looked up briefly. In the flickering light Della was sure she caught a flash of guilt in his eyes, but when she turned to look again he had gone.

  “You haven’t done anything wrong, girls,” Dame Bessie said. “Just remember that.” But Dame Bessie hung her head, as if she’d been defeated.

  “We haven’t,” Della agreed. Although knowing this didn’t alter the fact that they were still being taken to the castle, shackled like prisoners.

  The cart trundled up the track. Della couldn’t help noticing how beautiful the night was. Moonlight flooded the landscape, and it suddenly occurred to her that this might be her last time outside. Forever. Except Della didn’t really believe this. Surely Lord Hepworth wouldn’t lock her up. But this hope quickly faded as they crossed the drawbridge and pulled to a stop in the courtyard.

  “Take them to the dungeons,” Lord Hepworth ordered, standing outside the castle. Knights milled around him, and Della could see Ivan, a few feet away from the crowd. They looked at each other, and Della knew right away, there was nothing he could do.

  “I’m so sorry,” Ivan mouthed. He stepped toward her, but one of the knights barred his way.

  “Stand back, Master Ivan. Witches are dangerous things, and you don’t want to get too close.”

  “We are not dangerous,” Della cried. “This is ridiculous.”

  “Who knows what evil they were plotting,” the knight said.

  “One at a time and don’t even think about flying,” another knight ordered, directing them off the cart. He kept his arms tightly folded, obviously not wanting to touch them.

  “You cannot treat us this way,” Dame Bessie spoke up. “What harm have we done? These girls are young and innocent, and I’m just an old woman.”

  “Lord Hepworth, please,” Della pleaded, feeling a stick prod her in the back toward the dungeons. “You have to listen to me. Your brother has got an army together, and he’s on his way to attack the castle.”

  “My brother’s on his pig farm in Scotland,” Lord Hepworth said.

  “No, he’s not. He’s somewhere nearby on the other side of the river.”

  “This is an evil trick,” one of the knights called out. “Don’t listen to the witch, sire. She is trying to trick you so they can escape.”

  “Lock them up,” Lord Hepworth said. “I will not be made a fool of.”

  “I’m not making a fool of you,” Della shouted. “I’m trying to help you.”

  “Father, please, we should listen,” Ivan said. But Della couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, because she was jostled down a dark, narrow flight of stairs and into the castle dungeons.

  The walls were damp with mold, and a musty smell hung in the air.

  “Get in there,” one of the guards said, opening a cell and shoving the witches inside. He banged the door shut and turned a heavy iron key in the lock.

  “How long do we stay here for?” Faye asked, her voice rising with panic. “I need to get home. My father and mother will be worried.”

  “You’re not going anywhere,” the guard replied, giving an enormous yawn. “Now we can all sleep easy in our beds.”

  “You have to believe me,” Della said, stepping over to the guard. She put her hands on the bars and peered through. “I saw what’s happening. Lord Hepworth’s brother is coming.”

  “It’s not going to work,” the guard said. “Trying to scare us with your witchery.”

  “You should be scared,” Della cried. But the guard was already walking away, spinning the key round his finger.

  Della rested her head on the cold iron bars, beginning to understand that there was no escape. She felt sick and shaky. Her chest grew tight, and she couldn’t seem to take in enough air. Not only was she never going home again, she was going to spend the rest of her life locked in this dark, miserable dungeon. And then a truly horrifying thought occurred to her. There was no Castle Hepworth in the future. What if Lord Hepworth’s brother really did burn it to the ground, and because she had traveled back here and messed about with the past, she was going to get burned right along with it?

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Della Has a Plan

  THE GIRLS SLUMPED ON THE ground, leaning against one another. Della hugged Gwyneth, while Isolda and Willow rested their heads on Dame Bessie’s shoulders. Faye huddled in a corner by herself. For the first time since meeting her, Della thought Dame Bessie looked old. It wasn’t the wrinkles or her gray hair, but the way her eyes had lost their shine, as if the hope had leaked out of them.

  “We have to do something,” Della whispered, in case there were guards listening. “We can’t give up. We just can’t.”

  “This is how it goes,” Dame Bessie said. “I thought I could keep you all safe. But I couldn’t.”

  “There aren’t any windows,” Willow said. “Not even a tiny one.”

  “I can’t breathe,” Isolda whimpered. “Someone has to help us.”

  “There is no one,” Della said, brushing away her tears and trying not to think about how much Gwyneth reminded her of Robbie.

  Dame Bessie stared straight ahead. “I don’t believe there is much we can do.” Her defeat smothered the dungeon like a rain cloud, and Della could feel her own spirits sinking while the night ticked away and the dawn began to break outside. Not that they could see it, because no light shone through the cracks in the stone.

  It was frightening not to have Dame Bessie take charge, telling them what to do to survive. The other girls seemed like they had already given up, their faces dull and empty. Della had never been much of a leader, but she slowly began to understand that if she didn’t try to come up with a plan, no one else in here would. There had to be some way out of the dungeon—there just had to be. Perhaps they could dig a tunnel, Della thought, rubbing her fingers over the hard earth floor, except they didn’t have anything to dig with. And they were all too big to squeeze through the bars. Well, maybe not all, Della suddenly realized, feeling the rat shift about in her pocket.

  “Mary,” she whispered in excitement. “Come up here.” Mary poked her nose out and ran onto Della’s lap.

  “A rat!” Gwyneth shrieked, jerking away.

  “Shhh. It’s only Mary. We have to be quiet.”

  Gwyneth peeked between her fingers. “I don’t like rats. Even Mary ones.”

  “Yes you do, because I think I have a plan, but we need Mary to be really brave and help us with it.” Della stroked the little rat on the head. “Can you do that?” Mary twitched her nose. “Okay then. First, what I want you to do is go to the kitchen and bring me the extra-long wooden spoon that Mrs. Chambers sometimes stirs the soup with, the one with the narrow bowl and the chip in the handle. Can you nudge it back here with your paws?” Clearly the effects of the courage potion hadn’t completely worn off, because, without hesitating, Mary scurried onto the floor and disappeared between the bars of the cell.

  No one said much while they waited for Mary to return, but an air of quiet hope had filled the dungeon. Dame Bessie stirred and sat up, studying Della with a look of respect. She gave a slow approving nod, as if she could sense what Della was planning.

  “You taught me well, Dame Bessie,” Della said, praying that her plan would work. But as time wore on, she began to worry, imagining Mrs. Chambers swatting Mary with the broom or tossing her outside by the tail—not an unusual practice in the kitchen.

  “Is she coming back?” Gwyneth asked after w
hat felt like an extremely long time.

  “Yes, of course she is,” Della said, staring at the bars and willing Mary to appear. When the furry rat finally scuttled into view, pushing along a wooden spoon with its nose, Gwyneth clapped, and Della broke into a huge smile.

  “So what do you need a spoon for?” Faye asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “To escape,” Della said, walking over to the bars and peering through them. It was dark and cold, and water dripped from the ceiling, but there were no guards in sight. Clearly, they didn’t like being down here any more than the witches did. “This is a beech spoon,” Della whispered. “It works almost as well as a wand. So I’m going to turn us into rats and get us out of here.” There was an excited gasp from the girls, followed by an explosion of chatter. “Shhh, we have to keep our voices down.” Della crouched beside Mary. “Now you, Mary, have to do something even more courageous.” Mary’s pale blue eyes were fixed right on Della as if she were listening intently. “I want you to go to Ivan’s room. It’s on the main upstairs corridor beside Lord and Lady Hepworth’s. Go inside and change back into Mary. Once you’ve done that, you can’t become a rat again, because you don’t have a wand, so you’re going to need to be careful.” Mary nodded, and Della continued. “Tell Ivan we don’t have much time,” Della stressed, “and his uncle really is on his way to attack the castle. Tell him to meet us outside behind the stables and to bring something made from each of our woods. So, Faye is hawthorn; Isolda and Gwyneth are oak. Willow is apple.”

  “And I’m beech,” Dame Bessie said, sounding more like herself.

  “Why do we need Ivan’s help?” Faye questioned. “Once we’re out of here, why not take a boat to the land you come from, Della, and never step foot in this place again?”

  “No.” Della shook her head and swiped a hand across her face, trying to keep her emotions in check. “We can’t run away. We have an army to stop.” She looked around at the girls. “If we manage to do it, that will show Lord Hepworth we’re not evil.”