The bear broke into a lope as he passed by the living statues, intent on the crystal in Kelly’s hand. He caught up with the fleeing wizards as they reached the Widow’s rosebushes. With a roar that expressed all the anger, hurt, suffering, and confusion he had felt over the eleven months past, he reared back on his hind legs and swiped at Kelly with one powerful paw.
Kelly recoiled almost, but not quite, in time. The blow, which would have seriously injured him had it struck where the bear had aimed it, glanced off the arm that held the glowing crystal. Kelly’s grip was not strong enough to withstand such an unexpected shock. The crystal globe flew from his grasp, struck the gatepost, and shattered into a thousand fragments.
“No!” Kelly said, and his cry was echoed an instant later by Madini’s shriek of angry disappointment and exclamations of horror from John and the Widow. Then all four cries were drowned in a howl of pain from Hugh.
It was too much for Dee. The sight and sound of an angry bear rearing above him, having just attacked his friend, was more terrifying than anything his scholarly life had prepared him for. With a moan of fright, the dignified Doctor Dee hauled up the hem of his long black robes and ran through the Widow’s gate and down the road toward Mortlak, as fast as his legs could carry him. Kelly barely hesitated before following, one hand clutching his skullcap to keep it from falling off and the other holding his robe out of the way of his flying feet. The wizards were too intent on their own escape to notice Master Rodgers cowering behind the hedge, or to see him scramble to his feet and stumble after them, his only thought to put as much distance as he could between himself and the terrifying animal in the Widow’s garden.
The bear did not notice their departure. He was not, in fact, aware of anything but the pain of loss. He stood roaring in agony, while from the shining splinters of quartz around his feet a bright mist began to rise, turning his fur briefly golden in the sun and then dissipating in the warm fall air.
The remaining watchers were momentarily stunned into inactivity by Hugh’s loud, angry roaring. Blanche was the only one who moved. She had been facing the gate, and when she felt Kelly’s spell dissolve with the shattering of the crystal, she ran forward. She ignored Dee’s and Kelly’s rapid exit completely; she had eyes only for the bear. As she reached his side, she pulled the little jar of ointment from her pocket, broke the sealing layer of beeswax with her thumb, and dumped it unceremoniously over as much of Hugh as she could reach. The smell of roses and honey spread through the garden.
“Blanche, what dost thou?” the Widow cried tardily.
“All I could,” Blanche murmured, stepping back. “Pray Heaven this prove as potent as we hoped, Mother, for I do not think we’ll have another chance.”
No one answered; they were all too busy watching the bear. For an instant there seemed to be no change; then the glowing mist stopped spreading and began to thicken. Soon the bear was completely hidden in a dense, sweet-scented cloud the color of whipped honey, and his roaring subsided.
“What foolery’s this?” Madini said to no one in particular. She started to raise a hand, and John caught her arm.
“You’ll add nothing to this spell, for good or ill,” John told her, ignoring her furious glare. “Though I doubt not ‘twould be for ill, an I left you the choice.”
“Thy magic is not strong enough to stop me!” Madini said. She tried and failed to wrench free of John’s grasp.
“Belike not, but my arms are,” John responded with deceptive mildness. “And believe it when I say that, woman or no, Queen’s lady or no, I’ll strike you down where you stand if you make the smallest move to injure Hugh.”
“Thou‘rt a knave and a base-born villain!” Madini snarled. Every line of her body proclaimed her outrage and indignation at being stymied by such crude methods.
John’s expression did not change, but there was a sudden aura of danger about him that made even Madini pull away involuntarily. “I think this is no time or place to talk of that,” he said.
“Look!” said Rosamund, effectively distracting both the combatants.
Under other circumstances, Blanche’s carefully ensorcelled ointment might not have been strong enough to wrest Hugh’s power from the crystal where Dee and Kelly had half-unknowingly imprisoned it. With the crystal broken and the power floating free in the air around him, the spell had only to return the power to Hugh. This was not simple, but it was nonetheless the easier part of the task.
The glowing mist that surrounded the bear was thinning; his furry coat soaked it up like a lamp wick soaking up oil. Then it was gone, and the bear stood gazing at them with a puzzled look in his eyes.
Blanche’s shoulders sagged in disappointment. John let go of Madini’s arm and, after a moment’s pause to master his own chagrin, turned to the girl and said, “‘Twas a noble attempt, and no fault of thine that it did not prosper.”
“I would not say it did not prosper,” Hugh said. Everyone turned to look at him, and he ducked his shaggy head and scratched at it with one large paw.
“Thy voice is back!” Rosamund said. She did not add that his wits, too, seemed to have returned. Had Madini not been present she might have mentioned it, but she would not expose any of Hugh’s difficulties before a hostile stranger.
“True,” said the bear, sounding surprised. “I’d not realized. I meant only that I feel far more myself than I have since this began. Except—”
“Except what?” John said, frowning.
Hugh swiped at his ear again. “Except I itch,” he said. He lowered his paw, and a large piece of skin and fur came with it.
Blanche raised one hand to her mouth in horror, and John started forward with a wordless exclamation. Hugh shook his head violently, and bits of fur flew in all directions. John stopped short as his brother’s human head appeared beneath the grisly shreds that remained.
“I itch most vilely,” Hugh repeated, scratching at his left shoulder. Pieces of the bearskin began to drop away in chunks. John’s face lit with relief, and he started forward once again, only to be stopped by the Widow’s voice.
“I think this task is thy brother’s alone,” she said. She smiled shakily at John. “I doubt ‘twill take him long.”
In this the Widow was entirely correct; by the time she had finished speaking, a naked man with dark, wavy hair stood where the bear had been, studying his hands as though he had never seen such wondrous things before in all his life. The Widow blinked, then said with great presence of mind, “Rose! Go and bring out the brown blanket at once, lest Master Rimer’s brother catch a chill.”
“Yes, Mother,” Rosamund said. She darted into the cottage and was back an instant later with the first large square of cloth on which she could lay her hands (which happened to be a green blanket, somewhat smaller than the one her mother had wished her to use). Rosamund was rapidly recovering from the shock and surprise of recent events, and she did not want to miss any interesting developments. When she returned, Hugh and John were exchanging a heartfelt embrace of relief and joy.
Rosamund waited until John stepped back, then handed Hugh the blanket. Her eyes were dancing, and she dropped a careful curtsy as soon as her hands were free.
“I do appreciate your kindness,” Hugh said gravely. He draped the blanket carefully around his shoulders, and though it reached only to his knees he managed somehow to make it appear almost elegant and entirely natural. Then he turned and looked at Blanche. “And my gratitude to thee is beyond the power of words to tell,” he said, “and beyond the wealth of all the world to repay thee for.”
Blanche blushed red as a rose. Then she went pale as milk and looked down at her feet. Hugh’s voice still held a faint echo of the familiar, bearish rumble, but the slender, dark-haired Faerie man before her bore no other resemblance to the animal she had pitied and befriended. He was alarmingly handsome, and even draped in an old blanket he carried himself like a prince. The faint glow of enchantment still hung in the air around him, reminding her of the depth
of the difference between them as his bear’s fur had not.
“‘Tis noble in thee to admit as much, since words are all thou’lt ever have to pay her with,” Madini’s sarcastic voice broke in. “But it makes a pretty scene, I do admit.”
“Whate‘er it makes, ’tis no affair of yours,” John said. “Get you back to Faerie, and leave us in peace.”
Madini’s expression did not change, but the eyes she turned on John were dark with hatred. “Peace? I’ll give thee peace indeed, as much as a grain of corn between the millstones! Thou hast overset my plans, but I’ll see that thou dost rue it, and thy mortal friends as well.”
“Thou‘lt see to nothing of the kind,” the Widow said before John could answer. Her voice was sharp, and her expression angrier than Rosamund and Blanche could ever remember seeing before.
“Who’s to stop me?” Madini said, looking contemptuously down at the Widow. “These half-breed exiled bastards? They’ve not the power to protect thee from my wrath; never think it. I am of the great ones of Faerie.”
“Thou mayest be great in Faerie, but thou‘rt of small account in my garden,” the Widow retorted. “Nor have I ever asked these two for a defense against thy malice.”
“Thou hast no need to ask, and well thou knowest it,” John said, stung. “Whatever aid we can give thee and thy daughters, thou hast it.”
“My brother speaks for us both,” Hugh added.
“Thy offer’s kind,” the Widow said gently, “but ‘tis more likely you’ll have need of us.”
“Thinkest thou that thy mere mortal magic can best me?” Madini said, and this time amusement tinged the contempt in her voice.
“‘Twas my daughter’s mortal magic that did what thou saidest no Faerie charm could do, and restored Hugh’s shape to him,” the Widow shot back. “And ’twas mortal magic that stole it away. And however great thy vaunted power, it seems thou hadst not means to wrest the crystal from two mortal wizards. I think ‘twere best thou didst not speak so hardly of ’mere’ mortal magic. ‘Twill serve to keep me and my daughters safe from thee.”
Rosamund and Blanche looked at their mother in wonder. Madini gave the Widow a slow, cruel smile. “‘Tis not my magic thou needs must fear, but my unwitting mortal servants.”
“What mean you?” Hugh demanded sharply.
“Why, only that this day’s work has been observed, and by one Master Rodgers, who doth hunt witches for his bread,” Madini said, and watched with great satisfaction as the Widow turned pale.
“This is a tale, or trickery,” John said quickly.
“No trick,” Madini said, and seeing the trouble in his expression her smile grew. She looked at Hugh. “Did thy bear’s nose not smell him when thou camest roaring up?”
John made an angry movement, and Hugh put a hand on his arm. “I do recall something like to what you say, but ‘twas not my object at the time, and I do not well remember,” the erstwhile bear answered mildly.
“Thou‘lt soon see all the truth in what I say,” Madini said.
Rosamund slipped around behind Hugh and went out through the open gate. She came back a few moments later and broke in on the argument, which was growing more heated. “There are footprints behind the bushes by the gate,” she said, “and I do not think they’re Master Dee’s or Master Kelly’s. But there is no one about now.”
“You see?” Madini said triumphantly. “He’s gone to fetch his constables. You’d best begin your flight, unless you wish to hang, every one of you. And be assured, where‘er you go I’ll set your own mortal laws against you.”
“I think not,” Rosamund said, considering. She looked at her mother. “Has not the talk in town been all of Master Dee and Master Kelly?”
The Widow nodded. “But that makes no—”
“Nay, Mother, it makes a great difference,” Rosamund interrupted. “For even if this man saw and heard all that occurred, ‘twas Master Dee’s spell that Blanche unraveled, and the breaking of foul sorcery’s no crime.”
“Thou mayest well be right,” John said slowly. He paused, and looked at the Widow. “And ‘tis also true that the greater part of this day’s magic can be laid at Kelly’s door. ’Twas he who held the crystal and cast the spell that froze us where we stood, and I do not think his past will bear the close examination of the courts. But if you choose to remain and defend your innocence, ‘twill be hard for you, no matter what the outcome, and that’s by no means sure.”
The Widow hesitated. Then she looked at Madini, and her lips firmed. “An we choose to leave, this one has said she’ll set more of these dogs to snap at our heels. ‘Twere better to stay where we’ve some chance to win the fight, or so I think.”
Rosamund flung her arms around her mother. Madini’s smile slipped slightly. “You are all fools,” she said.
“That’s no problem of thine, is it?” Rosamund said, letting go of her mother.
“How long dost thou think ‘twill take this Master Rodgers to return?” Blanche asked John.
“I do not know; does it matter greatly?”
“An we’re to stay and face these charges, would it not be best for Hugh ... for thy brother to be better clad?” Blanche said, blushing slightly.
“Oh, you’ve time and plenty for such niceties,” someone said behind them. The company turned as one, to see a long-legged youth leaning over the Widow’s gate and shaking black hair out of his eyes.
“Robin!” said John and Hugh together.
CHAPTER · TWENTY-FIVE
“Snow White and Rose Red had begun to run away, but the bear called out to them, ‘Wait! Do not be afraid; I will not hurt you. Stop for a moment, and I will join you.’ The girls recognized his voice, and they stopped and waited. As he came toward them his bearskin suddenly dropped off, and a handsome man stood before them, dressed all in gold. ”
ROBIN PUSHED THE GATE OPEN AND SAUNTERED IN, plainly enjoying the attention he was receiving. He was dressed for court, his doublet so heavy with gold-thread embroidery that he glittered in the sunlight when he moved. Madini’s eyes narrowed. “What dost thou here, sprite?” she demanded.
“This and that,” Robin answered, widening his eyes innocently. Then he frowned and tilted his head to one side. “Though now I think on it, thou mightest well have phrased thy question with a greater grace. I’m sure my friends here would have put it better.” He waved casually toward John and Hugh.
“Place no wagers on it,” John said. “If I’d been less surprised by thy appearance, I’d have been the first to speak those self-same words.”
“Ah, but thou wouldst not have called me ‘sprite,’ Robin said, in tones which indicated that that settled the matter completely.
“It seems this man’s a friend to thee,” the Widow said pointedly to John.
“Alas, I must admit it,” John said, “though ‘tis no credit to either of us. Mistress Arden, I present to thee Master Robin; Robin, be at thy best behavior, I pray.”
“When am I otherwise?” Robin said, bowing extravagantly to the Widow.
“Always,” Hugh said, smiling in spite of himself.
“Never say so,” Robin answered, straightening and twisting around. He studied Hugh for a moment. “Thou‘st found a tailor since last I saw thee,” he said with the air of one identifying an elusive change that had been puzzling him. He leaned forward and said in a confidential tone, “Thou shouldst lose him again, an thou’lt take my advice.”
“Cease thy foolery and explain thy presence!” Madini cut in. She was angry as much at being ignored as at Robin’s failure to give her any real answer to her first question. Events had slipped from her grasp, if they had ever been in it, and Robin made an excellent target for her frustration.
“Why, I thought I’d done so,” Robin said, blinking at her through a fringe of black hair.
“Belike you did, but I did not understand your explanation,” Blanche’s soft voice put in.
Robin looked to where she stood with Rosamund, a little to one side. His ey
es widened, and he bowed even more extravagantly than before. “Roses!” he exclaimed as he straightened up. “One white and one red. Nay, do not blush; thou‘lt stain thy petals.”
“Robin,” Hugh said warningly, and his voice was very near a growl.
“What wouldst thou have of me?” Robin said, ignoring Hugh. “The half my kingdom? ‘Tis thine before thou ask!”
“An easy promise, for thou hast none,” John commented. “Be not so saucy, Robin.”
“Wherefore dost thou command him so?” Rosamund said. “He but matcheth thee; you are a pair of saucy rogues.”
“Oho! Is this the way on’t?” Robin said, looking gleefully from Rosamund to John. “Thou didst not tell me—”
“Robin!” John interrupted. “Thy best behavior; look thou, remember it.”
Blanche was still blushing furiously, in part from Robin’s teasing and in part from finding Hugh’s eyes fixed gravely on her once more. Seeing no sign that Robin would cease his banter, she ventured, “I would put a question to you, Master Robin.”
“Didst hear what she called me?” Robin said in delight. “‘Master Robin’! It has a ring to it; do you not think so?”
“The ring that suits thee would be made of hemp and fitted round thy neck,” Madini snapped.
Robin looked wounded. “Thou‘rt unkind to say so. But what was it that this lovely blossom wished of me?”
“I would know what you meant when you said we had time and plenty. ‘Twas just as you arrived,” Blanche said.
“Why, I meant whate‘er I said,” Robin answered. “So do I always. ”
“Then give us the reason for thy speech,” John said. “Assuming that thou hadst one, more than to cause confusion.”
“Oh, very well,” Robin said, and grinned wickedly. “‘Tis but that all of you seemed troubled by the large man in brown who watched you from behind the hedge there. You have no need of haste on his account; he’ll not see home before mid-afternoon, and I misdoubt he’ll speak with sense before the morrow.”
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