"Aye," Puck agreed. "'Twas a near thing, that—but we have them all a-play together."
"And the lass will not turn away from the unicorn in angered jealousy." Fall beamed.
"A steaming kettle of nonsense," Kelly muttered. "Wherefore must these mortals be so obstinate?" Nonetheless, he, like the other three, gazed at the playing children with a smile of satisfaction. In fact, they were so taken with the sight that they didn't notice the four brawny men slipping from tree trunk to tree trunk all around the clearing, coming closer and closer to the children.
They drifted up as silently as the wind in the brush, till they stood just behind the first rank of trees—burly men in livery, with steel caps and ring-mail jerkins, watching the children, poised to spring.
Cordelia decided to assert her position as resident unicorn-friend, and skipped up toward her, holding up her ring of flowers. "Here, O Silver One! I shall not hurl this, but give it thee!"
The nearest man leaped out, sprinting toward her.
Just then, Geoffrey tossed a wreath a little too far to the side. The ungenerous might have thought he intended to hit Cordelia with it.
But the unicorn didn't. It spun and leaped, tossing its head to catch the ring on its horn.
The soldier gave a shout of triumph as he pounced on Cordelia.
The unicorn's horn slashed through his jerkin. Blood welled out of his arm. The man shrank back with a bleat of terror, pale and trembling at such a close brush with death.
"Footpad!" Geoffrey howled in anger. "A vile villain come to seize our sister! Brothers, rend him!"
But the trees and bushes all around them erupted, armed men boiling out of them with blood-curdling battle cries, leaping toward the children and catching them up with yells of triumph. Gregory squalled, and Cordelia shrieked with rage. But Geoffrey clamped his jaw shut, narrowed his eyes for better aim, and sent his wreath sailing right into the face of Cordelia's captor.
The soldier was startled; his hold loosened, and Cordelia twisted free.
Magnus's wreath skimmed into the face of Gregory's cap-tor. It was a rose wreath, with thorns. The man bellowed in pain, and dropped Gregory, who shot up like a rocket and disappeared into the leaves above. Geoffrey's captor saw and blanched, just before Cordelia's wreath struck him on the brow. Geoffrey shot away from him to land beside Cordelia. "Thou hadst no need to aid! I would have had him kneeling in an instant!"
"Ever the mannerly gentleman, thou," she scoffed.
The last soldier tightened his hold on Magnus. "Thy wreaths shall avail thee naught—I shall not loose my hold!"
Magnus glanced down at the man's feet. A creeper nearby unwound itself from the base of a sapling and writhed over to the soldier, winding up around his mailed leg, then yanking hard. He shouted a startled oath, lurching back, then caught his balance—but for a moment, his hands loosened, and Magnus sprang free.
The first soldier shouted in anger and leaped at Cordelia again.
The unicorn sprang forward, head down, horn stabbing. The man leaped aside with a shout of fear, and the silver horn
scored a trail of blood across his cheek. He dodged back, drawing his sword; but the unicorn danced before him, parrying his lunges and thrusting at him, driving him back.
"Wouldst thou hurt her then?" Cordelia cried. "Vile wretch! Have at thee!" His sword wrenched itself out of his hand and flipped about to dance in front of his face. He paled and backed away, until he bumped into a tree trunk and could go no further. Nearby, three more soldiers fell under the hooves of the great black horse.
Another soldier bellowed and lunged at Geoffrey. The lad disappeared with a bang and reappeared a second later behind the soldier, jamming a knee against the back of his neck and an arm across his throat. The soldier turned purple, gargling and clawing at Geoffrey's arm, then yanked and bowed, sending the boy tumbling through the air. He didn't land, of course—he only soared up higher, yanking a rotten fruit from a tree and hurling it down at the soldier as he cried, "Cordelia! Mount and ride! We may not retreat whiles thou dost remain!"
"Wherefore retreat?" she retorted. "Let us stay and knock them senseless!"
"For once, he hath the right of it." Puck stood by her knee. "Thou mayest prevail—or they may take thee unawares, one by one, and capture thee all. Flee, damsel! Or dost thou wait to see one hurl a spear through thy unicorn?"
Cordelia gasped in horror and whirled to leap onto the unicorn's back. "Quickly, my sweet! Leave these swinish men far behind!"
The unicorn reared, whinnying, then leaped out and sprang into a gallop, dodging away between the trees so lithely that she seemed to dart through their trunks.
"One hath escaped, Auncient!" a soldier cried.
"We shall follow and find!" the biggest soldier answered. "Seize these!"
" 'Tis not likely," Geoffrey retorted, and more rotten fruit came plunging off the tree. The soldiers leaped aside, but the fruits veered to follow them, and landed in their faces with a gooey sound.
"Be off, while they're blinded!" Puck cried. "Retreat, lads! Avoid!"
"Wherefore?" Geoffrey's eyes glittered with excitement as he landed; his whole body was tensed for battle. "Dost truly think they can stand against us?"
"Mayhap! Thou mayest lapse, thou mayest grow careless!"
"Yet we are not like to! Nay! Let us stay, and stretch them senseless on the greensward!"
"There is no need," Magnus pointed out, "and 'tis witless to hurt them when we need not."
Geoffrey hesitated.
"We shall brawl at thy side, when we must," Gregory piped, "as we have done already. Yet now, brother, I prithee —let us be gone, sin that we can!"
"Away!" Puck commanded. "Till we discover who hath sent them! Why seize the sheep, when thou mayest have the shepherd?"
The soldiers finished wiping the goo off their faces and strode forward.
"So be it, then," Geoffrey said with disgust. "We go!" He relaxed, straightening up, and disappeared with a bang. A double explosion echoed his, and the soldiers found themselves staring at one another over an empty clearing.
Gregory turned the spit slowly, eyes huge and mouth watering as he watched the roasting partridges growing brown.
"What word, Puck?" The firelight reflected off Magnus's face as he watched a tiny elf muttering into Puck's ear. The sprite darted away, and Puck sat up straight, nodding. "'Tis even as we thought."
Geoffrey nodded with satisfaction. "Their livery was in good repair, and their weapons bright. These were no renegades, but men-at-arms of some lord."
"And, their mission failed, they returned to their master," Magnus finished.
Puck nodded. "So indeed they did—but knew not that elfin eyes watched their every step." He grinned, preening. "I thought that I did know that livery."
"What is it then?"
"The lord's arms confirm it," Puck bragged. "He is Count Drosz, a nobleman of Hapsburg."
"Of Hapsburg?" Geoffrey frowned. "What doth he in Tudor?"
"Small good, belike," Cordelia opined.
"What dost thou think, Robin?" Magnus asked. "Doth he come to join Earl Tudor in some form of mischief?"
"Nay!" Geoffrey's eyes lit with excitement. "Belike he doth seek to join battle with Glynn, the lord of this county! Oh, Robin! A melee! Please, oh! I must follow, to watch!"
"Nay!" Puck recoiled, startled and horrified. "A lad of eight, near a battle? 'Tis too great a chance thou might be hurted!"
"Assuredly they'd not harm a child!"
Puck started to answer, then caught himself, and said only, "Thou knowest little of the ways of soldiers in wartime, lad. Nay. What should I say to thy father and mother, if thou didst come to harm?"
"But…!"
"Nay!" Puck snapped. "Let thy father escort thee near battle-lines if he will, when that he doth return! Let his conscience bear the chance of thine hurt, if he will—but I will not risk it, whiles thou art in my care! Thou art not- my son, after all."
"Praise Heaven,"
Geoffrey muttered as Puck turned stamping away into the forest.
The elf turned back, frowning at the children. "Now come, follow me!"
"But," Gregory pointed out, "the soldiers have gone in the other direction."
"Thou hast noticed," Puck said dryly. "Come."
Chapter 8
A little after sunrise, they came out of the forest into a meadow dotted with wildflowers. "How pretty!" Cordelia exclaimed; then, "Yon is a footpath!"
Off to their right, a dusty track wound down the slope toward the fields below.
"And people beyond it." Magnus squinted from his vantage point on Fess's back. "Eh, but they're awake betimes!"
"Country people rise before the sun," Fess informed them. "May I suggest the unicorn seek a more discreet route?"
"But why?" Cordelia cried.
Puck shook his head. "I must own the iron beast hath the right of it. Bethink thee, child, what mortal men, full grown, would seek to do with such a creature."
Cordelia stared, her eyes widening. "Surely thou dost not mean they would wish to enslave her!"
"Aye, certes they would—and would try to steal her from one another." Geoffrey smiled with tolerance for his sister's innocence. "And the creature might be slain in the fighting."
Cordelia leaped down from the unicorn's back as though it were a hot griddle. "Oh, I could not bear it!" She caught the great silver head between her hands and stroked the muzzle. "I could not bear to have thee hurted! Nay, my love, my jewel! Go thou, and hide thee! Be assured, we'll meet again when we come back to this forest."
But the unicorn tossed her head as though scorning danger.
"Nay, I beg of thee!" Cordelia pleaded. "Hide thee! Thou knowest not how vile some men may be!"
Puck smiled, with a cynicism that softened into fondness.
The unicorn gazed into Cordelia's eyes. Then she tossed her head, turning, and trotted back into the forest.
"Will I see her again, thinkest thou, Puck?"
"Who may say?" Puck said softly. "Such creatures are wild and free; no man may summon them, nor no young lass, neither. They come when they wish." He turned to smile up at
Cordelia. "Yet I think this one will wish it."
He turned away. "Now, come! Let's trace this track that thou hast found!"
They went down a slope glorious with blossoms. As they neared the bottom, they passed a stile, a set of stairs that went up one side of a wall and came down the other, so that people could cross, but cattle could not. A pretty peasant girl was leaning against the stile with a mocking smile, gazing up through half-lowered eyelashes at a young farmhand who stood, rigid with anger, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.
"Nay, then, Corin," the peasant girl purred. "How durst thou think that I might spare a glance for one who's craven?"
Magnus and Geoffrey stopped to stare at the girl. "Why, she is beautiful," Magnus breathed.
Geoffrey swallowed heavily.
Cordelia looked at them as though they'd taken leave of their senses. So, for that matter, did Gregory.
"Craven?" Corin exploded. "Nay! I'm as brave as any man! Show me any foe, and I will fight him!"
"Foe?" she scoffed. "Nay, walk into the greenwood! Go into the hills! Stride down any highway! Thy foes will leap to meet thee—bandits, thieves, and outlaws! 'Tis come to be so bad as that! Any man who's restless, or hath an ounce of mettle, doth break the law, and runneth off to hide and thieve —and leaveth wife and children to the care of those dull males who have no daring!"
Puck had hidden in the heather near Magnus's foot, but the children could hear him growl, "Assuredly, 'tis never so bad as that!"
" 'Tis not a word of truth!" Corin bawled. " 'Tis not needful for a man to work evil, only because he's a man! Nay, there's strength required to stay and ward, and. care for those ye love!"
"Love?" the girl sneered. "I spit on that which you call love! Oh, caring there may be—but there's naught of thrill nor joy within it!"
Corin stepped toward her, hands outstretched, palms up. "If thou didst love me, thou wouldst see the error of thy words."
"An I did love thee," she spat, "I would needs be as dull as thou! Nay, how could I love a man who'd leave his wife and ' bairns in threat of pillaging?" >
"I would never do so!" Corin cried.
"Yet thou dost! Thou dost permit these bandits to roam wild throughout the hills! Thou dost give leave to highway-men to rob and beat whomsoe'er they please! Nay, no woman's safe to walk abroad now by herself! Within these two days gone, three lasses that I know have suffered, and a dozen men have run off to the hills. True men." Her eyes glittered as she looked directly into his. "Not mere boys."
"In only two days' time?" Puck snorted. "Such could never hap so quickly."
But Fess's voice sounded inside their heads: It could, if the High Warlock's enemies were fully prepared to accomplish such disorder, and were only waiting for his disappearance to unleash their agents.
Corin had reddened. "Thou dost wrong me, sweet Phebe! What could I do to halt them? At the least, I stay to guard the village!"
"And assuredly, thou wilt repel them when they come against us," she said with sarcasm.
"What else might I do?" he cried.
"Why, join the Shire-Reeve and march behind his banner! Go to fight for him, and capture or put down these outlaws who would prey on us! That is what thou mayest do—and might have, these three days past! Yet I misdoubt me an thou wilt, for there'd be danger! Only real men, who can conquer fear, will fight for him!"
Corin's face finned with resolution. He straightened, squaring his shoulders. "Thou dost wrong me, Phebe. I will go unto him straightaway—and thou shalt see how little I do fear!"
"Brave lad!" she cried, and leaped forward to seize his face and give him such a kiss as he had likely never had—a kiss both long and lasting; and, when she stepped back, he gasped for air, and seemed quite dazed.
"Go now," she cooed, "and show me what a man may earn!"
He nodded, not quite focusing, and turned away to drift on up the pasture lane between plowed fields, off toward the highway.
Phebe watched him go—and as she did, her face hardened, and her eyes glittered with contempt.
"And such, I doubt not, hath she done to half the lads of the village," Puck muttered, unseen.. "Kelly, go! Find near elves, and tell them to ask for news: Hath banditry truly begun so horribly in only two days' time? And discover, too, if other maids have done as she hath."
"I go," the leprecohen's voice crackled. "Begorra! If such as she taunts men to this Shire-Reeve's army, we'll know what to do with him!"
But Magnus was drifting toward Phebe, and Geoffrey was following as though an invisible string drew him.
Magnus cleared his throat. "Your pardon, but we have heard what thou hast said. Tell, we pray, who is this Shire-Reeve thou speakest of?"
Phebe whirled about in surprise, then smiled, amused. "Why, child! Knowest thou not what a reeve is?"
"Aye," said Magnus, " 'tis the man who doth tend to all the King's business in a district. A shire-reeve is one who doth take the King's taxes and levy low justice for a whole shire; and he must put down bandits if the barons do not."
"There! Thou didst know it, straightway," Phebe laughed. "Yet our Shire-Reeve is somewhat more—for look you, he is Reeve of Runnymede; and he hath seen that even in the King's own shire, Their Majesties cannot keep down bandits and highwaymen. Nay, even more—they cannot keep their kingdom in peace and order! Ever must the King's army be inarching and countermarching, trampling through the hard-grown crops and levying stores of provender that we peasant folk put by for winter, to be putting down rebellions, and those who would unseat Their Majesties from their thrones. In but the last two days the Counts of Llewellyn and Glynn have taken it into their heads to take more land into their counties —and have not thought it needful to ask a by-your-leave of Their Majesties! So they do call up all their knights, who call their peasants away from their fi
elds, and this with the summer haying hard by, to go make war upon each other! And what do Their Majesties do, what?"
"I know not." Geoffrey gazed up at her, entranced. "What do they?"
"Why, naught, little one," she said, with a silvery laugh. "They do naught! And our good Shire-Reeve hath grown weary of such lawlessness. Nay, he hath risen up in righteous wrath, and hath declared that the King hath failed to govern. ' And, saith he, an the King will not wield the law to keep the peace, our Reeve will, himself! 'Tis for this he doth gather lads for his armed band—that he may, by force of arms, put down these bandits, and make the roads once again so safe that a woman may walk them alone. Already hath he sallied 'gainst an outlaw band and broken them—and daily do more young lads flock to his banner!"
"Small wonder," Cordelia muttered, "an they do encounter lasses like to thee!"
"Why 'tis glorious!" Geoffrey shouted. "Let us join with this Shire-Reeve! Let us, too, go forth to do battle with evil-doers and outlaws! Let it be said of us that we, too, did aid in restoring the peace!"
"I had not known it had fallen so badly," Cordelia said dryly.
"Only since Mama and Papa went away," Gregory reminded.
Magnus's gaze stayed glued to Phebe's face, but he gave his head a little shake and blinked. "Nay, tell me—what difference is there between what this Shire-Reeve doth and what the counts do? Is he not also making war, and disturbing the peace?"
Phebe frowned. "Oh, nay! He doth restore the peace!"
"By making battle?" Gregory asked.
Phebe's face darkened.
"I cannot help but think that he doth behave as badly as the counts," Magnus agreed. "Tell—doth he, too, not seek to increase the territory he doth govern? Doth he, too, not attempt to bring more villages under his sway?"
"He doth push farther and farther afield 'gainst the bandits, that's true," Phebe said, frowning. "Is this conquest?"
"Certes," Geoffrey said automatically, and Magnus said, "Battle is battle. The clash of arms and the toll of the dead is noise and destruction, whether it be thy Shire-Reeve who doth command, or the counts."
"I would rather have peace lost from armies than from bandits," Phebe declared hotly.
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