“And so instead you’ll have us dwindle till our magic’s but a memory,” Madini said bitterly. “Will you command us to attend their feasts, and dance at mortal christenings and weddings?”
“It might be no bad thing,” the Queen said, glancing at her two sons. John smiled and inclined his head very slightly in acknowledgment.
“Save that Your Majesty command, you’ll ne‘er find me in such a place,” Madini said.
“An that’s her humor, she’ll not be invited,” Rosamund whispered softly in Blanche’s ear.
“Have you spoken your fill?” the Queen said to Madini. Madini nodded proudly. “Then thy punishment begins; go, and for seven years be bound.”
As the Queen spoke, she traced three lines in the air above Madini’s head. They hung glittering, then grew and enveloped the Faerie woman in a shimmering bubble. The bubble shrank in on itself until it was about half its original size; then it seemed to turn sideways, and for a moment there was a blurred impression of a small room full of books and a polished black crystal. Bubble and image vanished simultaneously, leaving no trace of Madini or the Queen’s spell but a rainbow mist of tiny drops like the residue of a soap bubble bursting.
“And now ‘tis your turn, the Queen said, looking at John. ”You disobeyed my firm command.“
“I did,” John said steadily. “And Your Majesty knows why.”
“I do indeed,” the Queen said. “Yet still, my order stands. You have made your choice, and for that choice, you’re barred from Faerie. Henceforward, you shall be no more than mortal.”
John bowed his head, and did not answer. Beside him, Hugh stirred and said, “Your Majesty, may I speak?”
“No,” the Queen replied. “Not until I have done.” She paused, surveying the company. “There remains the matter of reward for these four mortals, who have brought my son back here to me. As a beginning, ‘tis but just that they have leave to visit Faerie when they will; if they have more requests to make of me, I’ll listen, for my debt to them is great.”
“Four?” Hugh said, just above a whisper. He turned and looked at John, and suddenly he laughed. “It seems thou canst resume thy wandering ways in all regards. Wilt thou be back before All Hallows‘?”
“Belike,” John said in a dazed voice. The Queen gave him a small smile, while the court murmured appreciative approval.
Hugh shook himself, and looked across at the Widow and her daughters. “Your Majesty, I would request a favor.”
“Ask,” said the Queen.
“I would have your permission to wed the Widow’s elder daughter, Blanche, if she and her mother are willing,” Hugh said.
“‘Tis an appropriate reward,” the Queen said, nodding. “Wilt thou have him, girl?”
Blanche glanced at Hugh and blushed, but this time she did not look down. “Gladly, Your Majesty,” she said, and held out her hands to Hugh. “Oh, gladly, indeed.”
John leaned over to Rosamund. “And thou, my most uncommon Rose,” he whispered. “Wilt thou have me, an I ask for thee?”
“Ask, and thou‘lt discover it,” Rosamund whispered back, but she blushed as red as her sister while she spoke.
“It seems unfair to leave the younger girl unwed,” John said more loudly. “An Your Majesty permits, I’ll have her, and make all even.”
“Thou hast my blessing,” said the Queen of Faerie, and her smile was almost warm. “But what thinks the girl of this?”
“I think he is an impudent rascal,” Rosamund said, lifting her chin, “and I’ll wed with him or no one.”
“Then wed with him thou shalt.” The Queen studied the little group before her throne for a moment. “And, I think, as soon as may be. For tonight, you are my guests, and we will feast in honor of my sons.”
Hugh and John bowed, the Widow and her daughters curtsied, and the audience was at an end. Over John’s and Hugh’s objections, Robin took the three women off to the court seamstress to be suitably gowned for the coming banquet. That evening they feasted royally with the Faerie court, and the following morning the preparations for the weddings began. They were so busy that it was several days before any of them thought to wonder what might be happening back in the mortal world.
True to Robin’s prediction, it was late afternoon when Master Rodgers finally staggered into Mortlak. His doublet was unlaced and full of weeds; his boots were muddy, his hose torn, and his brown wool cloak and hat completely missing. His eyes were dazed, and he mumbled constantly beneath his breath. At the edge of the market, his legs failed him and he collapsed into a shuddering heap, still mumbling.
Such an apparition quickly drew a crowd. “His wit’s been turned,” the saddler said, nodding sagely.
“He mumbles of the Widow Arden,” the chandler said with a frown. “And Doctor Dee as well, but to what import I cannot tell.”
There was a murmur of anger from the assembly, and then Joan Bowes pushed her way to the front of the expanding crowd. “‘Tis the Widow’s doing!” she cried. “Her witchery has brought him to this state!”
“Witchcraft,” Rodgers said clearly. “Admitted sorcery. The bear ...”
“You see?” Joan said triumphantly. “He confirms it as best he may. The Widow Arden’s done this!”
The humming of the crowd grew louder, and then a clear, no-nonsense voice from the rear said distinctly, “Done what?”
A low voice muttered an explanation, and an instant later Mary Hudson thrust her way in among the inner ring which surrounded Master Rodgers.
“Belike the girl is right,” the baker said importantly. “He came from the south road, where the Widow’s cottage is.”
“The Queen’s palace at Richmond is to the south as well,” Mistress Hudson snapped. “Will you lay this to her?”
The baker returned a shocked negative, and Mistress Hudson turned to Joan. “You’re a spiteful, jealous girl,” she said contemptuously. “I might have guessed ‘twould be more of your mischief.”
“I?” Joan said, her eyes widening in shock. “I’ve naught to do with this!”
“And ‘tis plain to see you’ve done naught, neither, or by now this man would be in a sickbed where he belongs,” Mistress Hudson retorted. She picked out three stout yeomen with her eyes.
“You, carry him to his lodgings and see that someone stays with him until the doctor comes.”
“The doctor!” Rodgers said, rousing and looking wildly around. “Dee? Nay, ‘twas Kelly brought the bear!”
“Hurry, lest he stir up trouble with his words,” Mistress Hudson said to her chosen assistants, and together they bundled Rodgers hastily away.
But the damage was done. Too many in the crowd had heard Rodgers’s final words, and instantly coupled Kelly in their minds with the terrifying phantom bear that prowled the forest. The anger that had simmered all summer came to a head at last, and the crowd became a mob that surged through the streets to Dee’s riverside home. Joan Bowes screamed frantically that it was the Widow, not Dee and Kelly, who was at fault, but she was shoved aside and all but crushed against a doorway as the throng hurried by. Badly battered, she limped home after the mob had passed, only to find that Mistress Hudson had stopped by and she was without a position. For Mistress Rundel credited the Widow Arden with saving the life of her small daughter, Elanor, and having been told of Joan’s malicious comments refused to have her in the house a moment longer.
Dee and Kelly were already on their way to Poland with their families when the mob arrived; their house was empty. Balked of its prey, the mob threw stones through the windows, then broke in the door and poured in a strong, untidy stream through all the rooms. They smashed or scattered anything they found that seemed to smack of wizardry, beginning with Dee’s books and astrolabe. The gazing table with its arcane diagrams was reduced to a pile of splinters. They passed on to breaking stools and crockery, and in the end set fire to the house itself.
By the time Master Rodgers had recovered from his ordeal sufficiently to understand what he h
ad set in motion, John Dee’s home was a smoking ruin. Wisely, Master Rodgers decided to say nothing more of the strange scene he had observed in the Widow Arden’s garden. He had no wish to be declared a madman. In any case, Dee and Kelly had fled the country, the Widow Arden and her daughters were gone, and there was no one left to prosecute. Rodgers departed for London on Monday morning, and confined his report to an account of Dee’s mysterious disappearance and the violent reaction of the mob.
News of the destruction of his home did not reach Dee for many months. By then, he and Kelly were well established in Krakow, with their wives, children, and servants. They had brought with them the things most necessary to their experiments, chief among them their original gazing crystal. When they were settled enough to begin their work once more they were amazed and delighted to discover that their helpful spirit had accompanied them.
Madini’s presence in the gazing mirror did much to reconcile Dee, at least, to the loss of the other crystal, and he never again attempted to meddle directly with Faerie. He and Kelly spent several years in Poland and Bohemia, though relations between them grew more and more strained as the differences in their goals became more apparent. In the end, Dee returned to England alone, bringing the crystal with him, but by the time he found another man to act as scryer Madini’s sentence had been completed and the crystal was empty.
When the Widow returned home at last, late in the week following the sacking of Dee’s house, she was profoundly thankful that she and her daughters had missed the preceding events. For Mistress Townsend’s benefit, the Widow spun a tale of illness among distant relatives, who had urgently summoned her to help. To Mary Hudson she told a story somewhat nearer to the truth; then she packed up her Bible, her prayer book, and her book of spells, and left again. In time, most of Mortlak forgot that she and Rosamund and Blanche had ever lived in the tiny cottage at the edge of the forest.
“Snow White married the prince and Rose Red his brother, and they divided the dwarf’s treasure between them. They all went back to the prince’s kingdom, where they lived happily for many years. The girls’ mother lived with them, and she brought with her the two rosebushes from her garden. She planted them outside her window, and every year they bore beautiful roses, white and red. ”
AFTERWORD
I don’t know why I have always been so attached to the fairy tale Snow White and Rose Red, but I have. As a child, it was one of my favorite stories, and as an adult it remained a fond memory, though it had been years since I had read it. When Terri Windling told me about the Fairy Tales, it seemed a natural choice, and I was a little surprised to learn that no one else had already claimed the privilege of rewriting it.
When I finally reread Snow White and Rose Red, I began to understand why. The story told in the fairy tale was not nearly as smooth as my memory had made it. It was episodic and unconnected; characters appeared and disappeared without explanation, and the motives of nearly all of them were unclear, at best. Even if I chose to use the fairy tale as a loose framework for my own story, rather than as a kind of outline, I had a lot of work ahead of me.
Despite the fact that Snow White and Rose Red is one of the tales collected by the Brothers Grimm and therefore of German origin, I chose to set my story in England. The Elizabethan atmosphere seemed to suit the “feel” of the fairy tale; furthermore, it was an era that for me combined reality (or perhaps history) with magic. If the American colony of Virginia was named in honor of Elizabeth I, so was Spenser’s Faerie Queen, and it was not thought at all odd or irrational for a serious mathematician to make an equally serious study of astrology and magic. (Dangerous, certainly, but not irrational.)
Once the setting was determined, John Dee and Edward Kelly were the obvious choices for the role of the dwarf. From then on, the writing process focused sometimes on history, sometimes on the fairy tale, and sometimes on the story I was inventing, but it was always driven by the same two questions: “What on earth do he/she/they think they are doing?” and “Why in heaven’s name would they want to do it?” My goal was to tell a story whose general outlines and events would be true to the original fairy tale, while explaining the disconnected scenes and elements of the tale and integrating it with the rich background of the time and the actual events of 1582-1583.
How well I succeeded, you must decide for yourself.
Snow White and Rose Red Page 27
