"Can't you turn into a flea or something?" He flailed his arms, desperate.
"The Wild Hunt would swallow me then," wailed Calleagh. "Look, we can hide in the forest. Come on; make haste."
As he ran, he dared not look over his shoulder. The icy wind that whipped against his back told him the Wild Hunt drew close. The whistles of terrified birds pierced through the Hunt's caterwauling as they blasted across the wildflowers and the scrub. He strove on, tripping and half falling, Ann dragging behind like a heavy chain. The faster she laboured, the more her petticoats tangled, and she tumbled into every dip in the soil.
"Come on," shouted Tam. "Hurry!"
Turning to help, he looked back; he had no choice. At the head of the Hunt, Edric roared with pleasure as he charged on a one-eyed mule. In the same instant, Tam recognized the hood and disembodied grin of the horn-cocked devil surging toward him on a two-headed pig. He needed no warning to know what that creature would do if the Wild Hunt caught them.
As if his throat had been crushed, Tam's breath momentarily ceased. He could not let terror cripple him, not now. With wrenching effort, he grabbed Ann's arm and tugged her forward. Calleagh caught her other hand.
"We're not going to make it." Ann's voice sounded tight and breathless.
For several wild beats of his heart, he believed she was right. The trees loomed ever closer, but how could they outrun a storm of death? The forest would not hold back the Wild Hunt; they could hide, but they would be found.
A hunting horn sounded, distant but pure, and they burst through the tree line, the heather at last giving way to ferns and spongy moss beneath them. Plunging into thick bracken, they wove as deep as they dared, heedless of thorns shredding clothes and flesh, before sinking to the forest floor beneath the sheltering branches of a yew.
"Have they followed us in?" Ann gasped. "I can't go another step."
"No need, my love," purred Calleagh, stroking her hair. "Did you hear the horn, Tam? Herne the Hunter has called the Wild Hunt to him. England is doomed."
"No." He stared up through the leafy canopy, letting the dripping water from the night's rain cool his sizzling blow. He rolled to face her. "He drew them from us. I've got to find him."
Calleagh arched her brows incredulously. "You wish to chase after the Wild Hunt? Are you mad?"
"He called them away to save us. I'm sure of it." Was he? How did Herne even know they were chasing him?
"Ah, poor boy." Calleagh sighed, stopping her petting of Ann long enough to pinch his cheek. Jolting away, he cast a venom-filled stare. "Have you not yet realized what a monster Herne the Hunter is?"
"He's no monster. He's a good man who's suffered too much. Believe me, I see Herne for what he really is."
Calleagh laughed. "A sweet prince, I beg? The leader of a band who rode a black rat in the year of great pestilence and then trailed dead babes in their wake?"
Tam had considered spending the rest of his life with this man, had even warmed to the prospect. Calleagh's words made his stomach heave, but he steeled himself. "Herne rode no black rat; so much is rumour. And the Wild Hunt ride as warning of impending doom, to remind man of his place in nature. Much worse sweeps in their wake."
"To me, I suppose he is a hero, although we fair folk would never tell him so. But to you?" Calleagh laughed again. "Ah, men are so easily fuddled. I'm surprised he didn't eat you, my dear." She smiled knowingly at Ann, who looked as uneasy as he felt.
But he was here, wasn't he? Alive, when Herne could have cut his throat a thousand times over or roasted him on that spit. Only once had he truly feared Herne, despite his strength; quite the opposite, he found Herne's gentle might irresistible.
But could that be because Tam was the unnatural freak? He'd licked Herne's antlers and begged to be penetrated with ginger. Maybe he deserved the punishment of that horn-cocked beast? He always eschewed such self-loathing thoughts, but confusion dogged him as never before. Why did he trust Herne?
"'Tis such a shame," sighed Calleagh to Ann. "But if Herne leads the Wild Hunt, the boy will learn the truth of his savage ways."
His temper snapped. "Stop calling me 'boy.' I've merely passed time with him, grown to know him a little." The full truth nearly burst forth. Herne could be the gentlest, most obliging of lovers and a beast in the best possible of ways. Tam bit that confession back, but he clung to it in his soul. Herne understood. He was the only being who'd ever understood Tam. "He's not what you think. He's—Agh! What now?"
A high-pitched wail shattered through the quiet patter of the rain. Calleagh's smirk faded into a blank, unreadable emotion.
"Is it the Hunt again?" Ann looked to her, fraught.
Calleagh whistled. "No, darling, not that. 'Tis the Elfaene. She's received news from bird or fly that I've returned to the forest…and I've…Well, I've never heard her so angry before."
"Oh, this is just wonderful," said Tam, rising onto his haunches. "We're stuck between the Wild Hunt, the Spanish Armada, and a queen of the fairies with the temper of the late King Harry and the mercy of the Inquisition. Ow! And I've got a sprig of holly digging in my arse." He hauled himself to his feet. "Will she not quit screaming?"
Covering her ears, Ann still looked to Calleagh. "What will we do?"
"I'll go to her," said Calleagh, rising too and pulling Ann with her. "'Tis best if I appease her now, before her temper swarms as an army of wasps. That can get nasty, my love. You stay with Tam. I'll find you, but don't wander too close to the Hunt."
She pressed a quick kiss to Ann's forehead and then plunged into the bracken, where the foliage swallowed her. Tam glared after. Ann now looked to him.
"I have to find Herne," he told her. "He needs to know you and Calleagh are here and willing. Otherwise he'll just keep searching for her."
"Very well. If you really believe he's still trying to help you." Wrinkling her nose, Ann studied him closely. "Did he harm you?"
He fought off his memory of Herne slicing that knife through the rain. No, Herne had not tormented him in any way he hadn't begged for. He shook his head.
"Did you spend much time with him?" she asked.
Not enough.
He rubbed his brow. He couldn't face any more interrogation; his doubts might just fell him. "Look, my life depends on this, and I've got to trust him. I go after Herne, and I go now." He glanced toward the sun, trying to make an educated guess. "I think the road's this way, to the east."
"I'm not sure I want to go that way."
"Fine. Hide here, then. Calleagh said she would find you."
She still followed, and although he half wished she would not, he could not put her off further. It was not Ann's fault she'd been married at fourteen and kept closely in his brother's house ever since. Besides, anybody might fear being alone in the Greenwood, particularly now.
Presently they stumbled on a steep causeway. He crouched at the base, Ann beside him, listening to a cart trundling by above and the scared voices of its owners.
"This road will take us back toward Little Lyndton," he murmured.
"Then we can't go any farther," she whispered. "Now I've left, I don't ever want to go back to Richard, and I don't see why you'd want to go home either."
He cringed, knowing she had her reasons. "Richard's been good to me of late. He might help."
"Faith, you'd been gone less than two days and he had me packing away your possessions for market, your winter clothes, and that precious book your father bought you."
He started as if he'd been slapped. "What? Sell my things? You didn't, did you?"
"Don't snap at me. I've had enough of being shouted at by men for one lifetime."
"I'm sorry. I suppose Richard's judgment was understandable."
"I suppose." She scowled, far from appeased. "But God mend me, I was the one who cried for you, and I had to obey him, didn't I? It was the same as after your father died, when he had me sell everything, save those pretty samplers. He said they were worthless, and we have precious
few pretty things, so I kept those, but all else went…What is it? Why do you stare so?"
Because a lightning-bolt revelation had struck him.
"The samplers," he hissed. "That's it! That's where I'd seen the riddle before. On one of my mother's samplers, I'm sure of it. Richard told me he'd been rid of them. Heavens, I'm so happy you saved them."
"What are you talking about?"
"Listen. When I was reading through the Greenwood lore, I found a riddle, and I've been trying to remember where I'd seen or heard it before. And now, well…It's years since I looked on them, and I was just learning my letters at the time, but I'm sure it was on one of my mother's samplers." He paused, catching his breath. Not afforded his education, Ann could read little English and none of the old language, and she still looked puzzled. "You kept them, you say? Is there one embroidered with oak and holly leaves and bright red berries?"
She nodded keenly. "Yes, I know it, one of my favourites. It tells a riddle, does it? What is the answer?"
"I…I thought it was love, 'heortlufu' in the old language, but now…I just don't know. But mayhap Calleagh is right. My fate is a riddle also, and the poem on that sampler might just be of help in solving it."
"Are you sure you're quite well, that he didn't hurt you?"
She reached to touch his forehead; he caught her hand and squeezed it. "Don't fret. Listen. There were always rumours about who my mother was and where she came from, and we never heard from her family. What if she really was a fairy? Maybe Calleagh can tell? She might have known all along I possessed a little of her blood—"
"Calleagh is mine!" Ann flew her hand to her breast. "Don't you be getting any ideas."
He almost laughed. "God's teeth, I'm not interested in Calleagh. It's Herne. He's been talking all along about finding somebody responsible for our betrothal, yet he's discovered nothing. And…well, the Goddess summoned Herne here. Mayhap if I possess fairy blood, he really did come here for me, as my protector." And he could become so much more than that.
"How can you be sure?"
"I can't. But I've had dreams about the oak and the holly, which suggest the rhyme means something of import."
Heortlufu?
He nearly shouted, Take that, Crea!
Ann wrinkled her nose again. "They might just be dreams. And for two men to be brought together by the Goddess seems unlikely."
"Would it shock you so if we were two women?"
"I suppose it ought to, but…not anymore."
She gazed at him, even as he begged the same question. Why would any spirit wish him to be with Herne? Other doubts pressed. He'd resolved he'd choose such a bond over death, but now he wondered more than ever who Herne really was. The beast might have conquered his past, but should his present trouble Tam?
He clambered up, resolute, ruffling fragments of leaves from his hair before picking a couple from hers. "I need to see that sampler again, to see if the answer is embroidered. And maybe there is another message hidden that will make everything clear."
"That you were supposed to be bound to the beast?" she asked. "To spend the rest of your life with him?"
He would not argue. His resolution felt right, even now. "My mind's made up. I have to find Herne, and I have to go home."
*~*~*
Herne knelt beside a pool and, for the final time, cast the fairy-summoning spell. He'd blown his horn twice more since leaving the village. The Wild Hunt would reach him soon.
"Calleagh!" he cried. When the echoes of his voice died, the whispers in his soul became deafening. Ride with them, release their true power, and he would not have to think about Tam's death.
And yet, no, he would resist. The Hunt had to be stopped. Only a command from the Goddess herself could compel him otherwise.
"Oh, Tam," he groaned. Then, "Goddess, if the cause of the boy is to be lost, what is your will? Tell me now."
Silence pressed in; not even a bird twittered. His desperation burst once more into scalding fury. He rose and waded fully clothed into the deepening waters that lapped his thighs, cooling his blood that boiled and rushed within. Then he dived forward through the shimmering surface.
A stream of bubbles poured from his nose and mouth, and he revelled in the water's weight as it built above him, the cold pressure against his skin. At the cusp of his vision, a female form wavered. He gulped in water and nearly choked.
Sulis?
The water spirit smiled at him through the waters, her maternal breasts floating before her, so plump and beautiful Herne's burning chest tightened. His emotions were as scattered as the bubbles of his breath. Part of him wanted to vent his fury, yet her appearance suggested he might be about to receive his long-wished-for answer. Her hair drifted out around her head like a halo, and for the first time since he'd laid eyes on Tam, he felt calm, almost serene.
Does the Mother Goddess send you with a message?
At his silent question, she smiled. "You have already received one, Herne the Hunter."
Her voice resounded in his mind, smooth like satin, and much deeper than he recalled when she'd danced under her rain so long ago. Her words heightened his anger and confusion.
Tell me, I beg of you!
"One rules the tides of summer. One blazes through the frost. When both entwine, the answer is…"
Sulis rushed toward him, sea-green eyes gleaming, and then splintered into nothing amidst the stream of his breath's bubbles. He burst through the surface, heaving air into his lungs, and waded slowly to the shore.
The oak and the holly.
He felt sure of the answer to this riddle because of the ancient beliefs of his people. The oak king ruled the tides of summer, and the holly governed the scourge of winter.
When the holly and oak entwined, the answer must be war.
He closed his eyes, sickness and desolation rolling through him. He'd fought for so long and so hard, but in vain.
The Goddess commanded her will, and the Wild Hunt must sweep England again.
Chapter Fifteen
The Hunt was waiting when Herne trudged from the mill pool. He paced out to meet them, water still dripping from his brow, his soaked leather clinging to his back, to his every hardened muscle.
Edric edged toward him like a drunken crab, swaying from side to side. "Are you with us or against us? This is your final chance, or we tear you apart."
"I offer the chance, and never forget it." Herne thumped his chest, where his heart beat fast and hollow. "I will lead you this day."
The air filled with whoops of pleasure. Edric threw his cap in the air, caught it with a hoary bellow, and then ventured forward to slap Herne on his back. As he returned to fetch Cernunnos with Edric at his side, Herne regarded his companion with contempt.
"Even Yorick will be pleased to see you," drawled Edric. "You gave him quite a clouting last night but didn't lop off what matters to him."
Herne could not keep the rancour from his voice. "He would throttle me for it, but he doesn't have the strength. And you would stab me in the back for breaking your nose. Maybe you shall, when our hunt is over."
"With pleasure." Edric laughed. "After we've drunk to England's destruction, I'll gladly lop off all your horns. But first let's show the Greenwood villagers the power of a lord of vengeance. Now we've our leader, we will scythe straight through them."
Herne turned, heels digging in the dirt. "We will do nothing of the kind. I will lead you out, but the destruction will stop. You will harrow and scare but will commit no harm. If the Spaniards triumph in our wake, so be it. The Wild Hunt rides as a warning."
"But with you leading us, we alone could raze England's green lands to dust, see her rivers thick with blood. This time, my friend, let us annihilate."
Herne grabbed Edric by the front of his coat, hauling him up and shaking him so hard the hunter's yellowing eyeballs crossed and his feathered hat tumbled to the heather. "That is the final time you gainsay me," said Herne. "Next time, I break every remaining bone in your
body, and you spend the rest of eternity slithering in the Greenwood mulch."
He hurled Edric to the ground. Lying flat on his back like an upturned beetle in the scrub, Edric bared his rotten teeth in a grin.
"Good to have ye back." He replaced his cap, then faced the troops. "To Windsor," he yelled, doffing his cap. "And glory!"
*~*~*
Tam had not travelled far up the road, Ann dragging behind, when the soft smack of hooves against mud grabbed his attention.
"We need to hide." She started for the bank and the undergrowth. He caught her puffed sleeve, holding her back.
"No, wait." Although the track wound through a copse and he could not see far ahead, this sounded like a single rider, unlikely to spell danger. "It's not the Hunt. It might be more folk from the village." Another possibility set his heart racing. "It could be Herne."
A familiar dappled mare emerged from the trees, drawing two men in a small wooden cart. Ann gave a soft cry of dismay. Tam let her sleeve drop, but she slipped her hand into his.
"Don't let them take me back," she whispered.
"Richard?" he called.
The driver tugged the reins, and the mare stumbled to a halt. "What in the name of Mary and Joseph is this?"
Still holding Ann's hand, Tam dashed to Richard, ever the aspiring gentleman in his fashionable beard and tall black cap. It felt far longer than four days since he had last seen his brother, and Ann's recent admissions angered him. But Richard had been good to him of late, and who could blame his faith for faltering when Tam did not return? If he could convince his brother to help speed his mission, his luck might change.
Or maybe not.
At Richard's side sat Jerome, chewing on a piece of straw and regarding Tam with his usual lazy contempt.
"Tam…you…you're alive." Richard appeared less pleased than Tam liked. Then the eldest brother's gaze passed onto Ann, and shock gave way to fury. "And you, my good wife. We've searched and searched. Why did you run? Have you lost all regard for your honour? For my honour?"
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