by Kate Forsyth
The throne’s headrest had been carved into the semblance of a horned and bearded face, and it had lions paws for feet and eagles wings for armrests. The wooden face moaned and wailed incessantly, its features screwed into an expression of anguish. Irata lashed it with a silver-tipped switch, snarling, ‘Sing, why don’t you! Sing! I’m the rightful queen. Stop your caterwauling.’
The throne winced and tried to sing, but only a miserable ululation came out of its contorted mouth. Irata lashed it again, shrieking ‘Sing!’
Sitting at a tiny child’s table nearby was Hannah’s father, Robert. His chair was so ridiculously small, his knees were up near his ears. He was still dressed in his jester’s motley, with long asses’ ears and belled toes. Although she was relieved to have found him so easily, Hannah was very worried to see no sign of Donovan.
Hannah signalled to Scarlett to keep close behind her, and crept along the walls until she was crouched behind her father. He was looking down into a tiny two-handed silver cup—like a baby’s christening cup—with an expression of such misery and despair that Hannah’s heart went out to him. She forgot the humiliation of his costume, and her angry misery over his absence from her life, and longed to throw her arms about his neck. She dared not do anything that might draw the eyes of the Unseelie Court upon them, however, and so she leant over his shoulder and breathed upon the round silver saucer on the table. Her breath misted the bright silver, and she drew in the condensation her father’s symbol, the two Rs looking backwards and forwards like the two-headed god, Janus.
His eyes widened, and his hands trembled so much he had to put down his cup. ‘Is someone there?’ he whispered, looking around him slowly so as not to draw any attention. ‘Who are you?’
Hannah breathed on the saucer again and swiftly wrote her name, in her special way, with the two Ns facing back to front, much like her father’s own symbol.
‘Hannah? Not my girl?’
Yes, she wrote in the condensation, then breathed on it again and drew a capital D and a question mark, hoping her father would understand she meant Donovan.
He nodded his head almost imperceptibly, then got up, pushing back the tiny chair so it fell over. He stood, smiling inanely, pretending to sway as if he were drunk. Hannah looked anxiously towards Irata, who raised her eyes and studied him for a moment, then went back to examining the newly buffed nails of one hand. Robert stumbled towards the nearest door, Hannah and Scarlett slipping along behind him, trying to avoid being trodden on by a foursome of wildly dancing goblins.
Audacia
‘Where do you think you’re going, fool?’ a squat guard demanded, raising his spear so he could prod Robert in the stomach.
‘Gotta go relieve myself,’ Robert slurred, swaying from foot to ridiculous foot. ‘Even humans have . . . bodily functions, you know.’
The guard grunted and stood aside. ‘Don’t be long. The queen is looking bored. She’ll start breaking bones if someone doesn’t amuse her soon.’
Robert lurched out the doorway, Hannah close by his side. As soon as it shut behind him, Robert ripped off his asses’ ears, his unsteady gait turning into a quick stride. Leading the way quickly down the corridor, he said in a low voice, ‘Hannah?’
‘I’m here.’
‘I can’t see you. Is it some kind of invisibility spell?’
‘Linnet made it for us. Here, let me put some on you too so no one can see you either.’ She stopped him with one hand on his arm and daubed some of the fern-seed paste onto his brow. ‘Things seen and things not seen, let me walk between,’ she chanted. He looked down at his arm and hand with a dubious expression. ‘You still see yourself, but no one else can,’ she said. ‘Only those wearing the fern-seed can see each other.’
He looked up at that and stared at her. ‘Look at you! So tall! So beautiful. You’ve got the red hair of the Roses.’ He held out his arms to her, and rather shyly, she permitted him to embrace her. It felt both very odd and awkward, and yet, somehow, quite blissful.
‘Red as any Rose,’ she quoted with a smile.
‘I can’t believe you’re so grown-up. If I had not met Donovan and seen him so tall, and heard all his stories of you . . . Last time I saw you, you were just a tiny baby.’
‘And probably hideously ugly,’ Scarlett put in.
He looked around quickly. ‘No, no, she was gorgeous. Big grey eyes, and just a few little wisps of red hair. But who are you?’
‘I’m Scarlett Shaw.’
‘Not Bill and Maureen Shaw’s baby? You weren’t born yet when I . . . got taken . . . but your mother was out to here.’ He measured a large distance with his hand. Scarlett shot Hannah a rueful glance at this final proof she was indeed her parents’ daughter.
‘Come on, let’s get a move on,’ Robert said, taking off his long pointed shoes and thrusting them into a painted ceramic jar, along with his asses’ ears. ‘Are you sure no one else can see me?’
‘Quite sure,’ Hannah answered, not quite truthfully.
They hurried on. Robert’s arm had fallen away from Hannah’s shoulder, but he kept staring at her, and after a while, burst out, ‘I’ve been hoping and hoping that somehow . . . one day . . . has it truly been thirteen years since she caught me?’
‘In my time,’ Hannah said. ‘In Eglantyne’s time, it has been six months.’
‘It feels like only weeks to me,’ Robert said in a dazed voice. ‘I did not quite believe the boy . . . Is it true he is Eglantyne’s son?’
Hannah nodded. ‘I think so. He’s been brought up by your friend, Allan MacEwan.’
‘I gave Eglantyne into Allan’s care,’ Robert said. ‘Eglantyne was ill, exhausted . . . Allan promised to take care of her for me. What happened?’
Hannah felt cold and shaken. ‘She was going to have the baby . . . to have Donovan. Allan tried to take her to hospital, but it was snowing. The black witch made him crash his van. By the time the ambulance got there, Donovan had been born but Eglantyne was dead.’
There was a long silence. Robert pressed one hand against his eyes. ‘Poor Eglantyne. Poor little sweetbrier rose. I had so hoped . . .’
‘So what happened to you?’ Hannah demanded. ‘Why didn’t you come home with her?’
Robert gave a deep groan. ‘If only I had! I was arrogant and impatient. I was so pleased with myself for rescuing Eglantyne, and so eager to break the curse . . . and it was close to midnight by the time I had got her to Allan’s house and explained to him, and asked him to keep her safe . . . I came home past the hill, and thought to myself, The gate is open, I can go back in time again and find the three other loops of the puzzle ring now. Then the curse would be broken, my family would be safe . . .’
He did not speak for a long moment, his brow furrowed, his eyes shadowed, then he went on, slowly, ‘I should have known the gate would be watched. The Unseelie host was waiting for me just inside the passage. I turned and ran for home, but they caught me under the yew tree. I only had time to throw the hag-stone into the witch’s pool before I was dragged away. They took me to the Otherworld, and I have been here ever since, playing the fool, and waiting for a chance to escape. I cannot believe thirteen years have passed, and that the little newborn baby I left behind is now a teenager. I am so sorry, Hannah.’
‘I’m just glad we found you,’ Hannah said gruffly, unable to look at him.
‘Me too!’ His step had faltered, but now he strode on again. ‘Well, then let’s find Donovan and get out of here!’
‘Where is he? Is he all right?’ Hannah said.
‘Yes. I’m taking you to him now. He’ll be badly frightened. The queen does not treat her servants well, and he’s been defiant. She threw him into the dungeons for a spell, to soften him up.’
‘We need to get the hag-stone too,’ Hannah said. Her father grimaced, but said nothing as he led the two girls deeper and deeper into the bowels of the palace. There were no windows down here, only flaming torches set in the damp stone walls. They passed a guard,
engaged in picking his toenails with the tip of his knife, and came through a low archway into a dark and stinking chamber. A row of barred and bolted oaken doors lined the far wall. From behind one came the wistful tones of a flugelhorn, playing a familiar tune.
Hannah raised her voice and softly sang a few lines from ‘Time after Time’.
The flugelhorn faltered. ‘Hannah?’ Donovan cried.
‘Ssssh. I’ll have you out in a moment,’ she whispered, and drew back the bolts and the bars. The door squeaked loudly as she opened it, and she heard the guard’s feet hit the ground. ‘Quick!’ she hissed, and grasped Donovan’s hand and drew him out of the cell. He was dressed in jester’s motley, yellow and blue, with a ridiculous three-peaked hat hung with bells. He stared around, bewildered, at the empty room, clutching his flugelhorn to his chest.
‘It’s all right, I’m here,’ Hannah whispered. ‘I’m invisible. Here, take my hand. I’ll make you invisible too.’
He grasped her hand tightly. ‘I am so glad to see you! Well, at least, hear you.’
‘Sssh,’ she whispered, daubing him with Linnet’s paste. As she spoke the words of the spell, Scarlett quickly shut the door and shot home the bolts again. The guard came hurrying in, looking surly and suspicious, his foul-smelling lantern held high. Hannah and her companions shrank back against the walls. The guard came and checked the door was still shut, then called, ‘You’ve finally shut up, hey? Stopped your blasted caterwauling?’ He grinned at the silence and said, ‘You’ll learn,’ and stumped away again.
The four invisible humans tiptoed after him, barely daring to breathe until they were back in the main part of the palace. At once, Donovan turned and grasped Hannah’s hands. ‘I knew you’d come!’ he said huskily.
‘I’m sorry we took so long,’ she replied past a hard lump in her throat. ‘I’m so glad you’re all right!’
‘To think I once longed to go to the Otherworld,’ he said wryly. ‘Now I can’t wait to get out of here!’ He cast a quick glance around. ‘Where’s Max? Is he all right?’
‘His leg hasn’t healed right,’ Hannah said. ‘We need to get the hag-stone back so we can fix him up properly.’
‘And Linnet? She’s not here?’
‘She couldn’t come,’ Scarlett put in. ‘Something about not meeting herself in the corridors at Wintersloe. You’ve got to admit that’d be creepy!’
Hannah could hear shouting and caterwauling coming closer and closer. At first, she hoped it was just more of the Midsummer celebrations. The noise was spreading through the palace, though, and she was afraid it meant Irata had realised Robert had never come back to the banqueting hall. A look at his pale, thin-lipped face showed Hannah her father feared the same.
‘All we have to do now is get the hag-stone and then we can get out of here,’ Hannah whispered.
‘Well, yes,’ Robert said. ‘I’ve been worrying about that. You see, the queen is wearing the hag-stone about her neck. We’re going to have to steal it from her.’
There was a long silence. The children stared at each other in dismay.
‘How?’ Donovan cried, looking quite sick at the idea of going anywhere near Irata.
Robert took a deep breath. ‘My bet is that the time for subtlety is over. She’ll have the phantom hounds on our trail. It won’t be long before they pick up our scent. I think we’d probably just better go right up to her, snatch the hag-stone and run. If you kids cause some kind of diversion . . .’
‘But it’s so dangerous!’ Scarlett cried.
‘Yes,’ Robert said. ‘But I see no other way.’ He smiled at Scarlett. ‘You know what the motto of the Rose family is?’
‘Audacia,’ Hannah said at once.
‘Do you know what it means?’
‘To be audacious!’ Hannah cried.
‘Absolutely right.’
‘Which is just fine if you know what that means,’ Scarlett said caustically.
‘To be brave,’ Robert said. ‘Come on, kids! Audacia!’
So the four of them, stupidly, crazily, ran straight towards the roar of the Unseelie Court. As they ran they knocked over candelabras, tossed vases and glass bowls, pulled hair and tweaked noses. Confusion reigned everywhere. Fist fights broke out, a fire was ignited when a candelabra toppled into a pool of spilt liquor, and fairies tripped and tumbled over each other.
Irata was on her feet, shouting orders, her eyes glittering with rage. Robert sneaked towards her, then flourished his invisible dagger before her eyes. ‘Draw, o coward!’ he shouted. At once Irata froze, her eyes darting from side to side, her stiff hands clawing at the air. She was totally confused and confounded. Robert laughed, and cut the hag-stone free with Hannah’s dagger. As it fell, his invisible hand closed over it and suddenly the hag-stone was invisible too. Then he turned and ran, the children at his heels.
‘Find them!’ the queen screamed, clutching at her neck.
An eerie howling rose as the black phantom hounds put their noses to the scent. Hannah had thought she was running as fast as she could. The sound gave her fresh speed. Leaping down steps three at a time, she swung herself round the corner, leading the way towards the doorway to Fairknowe Hill. It was a long way, through a maze of seemingly endless stone hallways, and soon all four were panting for breath, stitches in their sides. Still they ran on, as the howling grew closer and closer.
‘Max! Max!’ Scarlett screamed, bursting into the little chamber. ‘Come on!’
Max was waiting for them, looking sick and scared. He held Hannah’s guitar and was leaning on her stick. Hannah grabbed the guitar and flung the strap over her shoulder.
‘Dad, give me the hag-stone!’ she yelled.
He tossed it to her. She caught it in midair and bent and scooped up the water bottle. Holding the hag-stone by its leather cord, she quickly dunked it in and out of the leather bottle, crying aloud the first words that came into her head.
Hag-stone, mend the bone!
Make strong what is weak.
Make straight what is bent.
Make swift what is slow.
By star and moon, hag-stone.
‘Drink!’ she ordered. As Max obediently swallowed down a mouthful, she hung the hag-stone about her neck once more. She then drank from the bottle, before passing it along to her friends.
At once the stitch in her side disappeared. New strength and wellbeing flowed through her. ‘Come on!’ she cried.
Max gave a wild whoop of excitement, flung the walking-stick away, and led the way down the corridor, running faster than Hannah had ever seen him move. Scarlett caught up her tambourine and ran with Donovan, shouting with nervous excitement. The guitar bouncing on her back, Hannah raced after, risking a look over her shoulder.
Ten great black hounds loped towards them, eyes glowing red. Hannah sprang forward. Never had she run so fast. The ground whizzed beneath her feet. Her father caught up the old rowan walking-stick and followed swiftly.
They reached the doorway where the two gargoyles sat peering around, puzzled to hear shouts and the pound of feet but see nothing except flickering shadows.
‘What’s going on?’ the sad one shouted. ‘Is it a fire?’
‘Oh, it must just be a merry game of hide-and-seek,’ the happy one said.
Ignoring the gargoyles, Hannah pulled her little eating-knife out of the crack and flung the door open. Max shot through it as if he had rocket-propelled boots, with Donovan a stride behind. The phantom hounds were upon them, though, snarling and slavering with yellow foam. Robert twisted the handle of the walking-stick three times, and drew out the slim sword. He drove it straight through the breast of one of the phantom hounds, and cracked another over the head, which yelped and slunk away.
There was a bang and a crash of cymbals as Scarlett brought her tambourine down upon the head of another of the black hounds. It sat back on its haunches, shaking its head frantically, trying to get rid of the broken tambourine. Yellow foam splattered the walls. Scarlett ran through the d
oor, as Robert whacked another of the hounds with the stick, and sliced the ear off yet another.
‘Dad!’ Hannah cried. ‘Come on!’
Robert gave one more swift lunge towards the hounds, who yelped and cringed back, then ran towards the doorway. As he leapt through, Hannah slammed it shut.
It was dark on the other side. They hurried down the passageway, hands on either wall, until they came to another doorway. Light burnt from a lantern, and a fat old dwarf in leather armour lay sleeping in a comfortable chair tilted back on its legs so that it rested against the stone door. Very carefully they set the chair straight and pulled it away from the door. The dwarf mumbled, but did not wake.
Hannah took down the lantern and they all joined hands, Robert at the end of the chain with the rowan stick clenched in his hand. Hannah laid her hand on the door and sang the words she had composed only yesterday, on the slopes of Black Rock a hundred miles away and four hundred and forty-odd years ago.
On this Midsummer’s Eve,
Open, hill, and let us leave,
Let us go back to our own time,
By the power of rhythm and rhyme,
Back to the dawn of the next day,
After the day we went away.
Open, open, great door of stone,
By the magic in my blood and bone.
Howls echoed down the corridor as someone opened the doorway at the other end of the corridor. Hannah took a deep breath, opened the door, and led the way through.
By the light of the lantern she saw a narrow, crooked passageway beyond. She walked out, praying incoherently under her breath. The others followed her, and Robert shut the door behind him. They hurried down a series of rough steps and rocky falls, and came through a familiar graffiti-scrawled cave. Hannah’s heart leapt with joy.
Still clutching Donovan’s hand, she hurried out into the icy-cold grey dawn. Frost crunched under her bare feet and silvered the roof of Wintersloe Castle below. The light in her lantern was dim now.
