Hawthorn

by Carol Goodman

  I felt a cool hand on my wings, putting out the fire and smoothing my ruffled feathers. “I saw the look of sorrow in your friend’s eyes,” Lady Aethelena said. “I don’t believe he betrayed you lightly.”

  “What does that matter? He still betrayed me. And now van Drood will get to the vessel first.”

  “Does your knight possess wings?” Sir Isumbras asked.

  I looked up and pushed my hair out of my face. “No,” I sniffed.

  “Then perhaps you will still be able to catch up with him.”

  “Can you open the vessel for me?” I asked, sitting up and pointing at his sword. “With that?”

  Sir Isumbras shook his head sadly. “The sword only opens the vessel from outside,” he said, “but I think you have other friends who have come for you. Listen . . .”

  I opened my Darkling ears and heard footsteps coming from above—and voices.

  “I’m here!” I shouted, getting to my feet.

  “Ava?” It was Daisy calling my name. I wiped the tears from my face and called back to her. “We’re here, Ava,” I heard Mr. Bellows call, “but we don’t know how to open this thing.”

  “How can they open it without that sword?” I asked Sir Isumbras and Lady Aethelena.

  “One of your friends is a knight of the Order,” Sir Isumbras replied. “I have seen him from the tapestry. He carries a dagger of the Order that contains the power to open the vessel. Tell him to pass it over the slab while saying the spell for opening. I believe that will work.”

  “Thank you. I’d better get closer.” I spread my wings out to fly to the top, but first I bowed to Lady Aethelena. “Thank you for trying to comfort me, but I’m afraid that Nathan is really lost. I was a fool not to see it.”

  “One is never a fool for believing in a friend,” Lady Aethelena said. “It’s that belief that may save your friend in the end . . . and yourself.”

  I looked from her to Sir Isumbras. Their love for each other had lasted centuries; of course she believed in the power of loyalty. But they were only figures in an old romantic story. That wasn’t my story. I bowed to each of them again and flew up to the opening. I shouted to Mr. Bellows to use his dagger and an opening spell. I heard him muttering, “I’m a blasted idiot!” and Daisy murmuring something reassuring. Then Mr. Bellows recited a long Latin spell and the slab slid away. I had to fold my wings to get through the opening, with Daisy and Mr. Bellows grabbing my arms to pull me through.

  “What happened down there?” Daisy asked, clucking over my burnt wings. “Is Nathan with you?”

  “Nothing’s down there but a bunch of old wall hangings,” Collie shouted. He and Bottom and Jinks were leaning over the vessel peering inside. I looked over their heads and saw that Collie was right: there was nothing inside the vessel but tapestries, one of which looked newly woven. It depicted a knight and a lady, their hands joined, their eyes locked in an eternal gaze. Lady Aethelena and Sir Isumbras were back in the land of myth and story, I thought as the boys wrestled the slab back over the opening. I almost wished I could have stayed with them.

  “Nathan’s gone,” I said. “He trapped me in there. He’s been working with van Drood all along.”

  “Blimey!” Collie cried. “I don’t believe it!”

  “Nor me,” Jinks said stubbornly.

  “There’ll be an explanation,” Bottom insisted, rubbing his eyes. “Becky’s a good chap.”

  I sighed. “You’re all as daft as Lady Aethelena. We don’t have time to argue. Nathan’s gotten at least an hour’s start.”

  Daisy and Mr. Bellows looked at each other while the boys all gaped at me. “An hour?” Collie said. “You’ve been down there over a week!”

  “I don’t understand,” I said for the sixth or seventh time as we made our way back through the maze. “How could I have lost that much time? I wasn’t in Faerie.”

  “The vessel was made by fairies,” Mr. Bellows said. “It’s outside human time—at least that’s the best I can figure it out. We’re lucky you only lost a week. You could have lost ten years like last time.”

  “What does it matter if we’re too late—and why did you take a week to find me?” I stopped so abruptly that Bottom ran into me. We’d reached the door to the bailey. I sniffed the air, looking for that scent of steak and kidney pie but of course it was long gone. “I left sigils to guide you.”

  “They ran out,” Daisy said. “We thought you must have been too rushed to keep marking the way.”

  “I marked the turnings all the way to the vessel . . .” I began, but Mr. Bellows had already figured it out.

  “Nathan must have erased them so we couldn’t find you right away and he’d have a head start.”

  “Which means,” Daisy said, “that Nathan didn’t lose any time in the vessel. The sigils vanished a week ago. He must have erased them and then hid in the dark while we passed him.”

  “You could have been lost in the maze forever,” I said, glaring at Jinks, Collie, and Bottom, daring them to try to defend Nathan now, but they only fidgeted awkwardly and looked at their feet. Even they couldn’t come up with a defense for their hero. “How did you find the way?” I asked.

  “It was Daisy’s idea!” Mr. Bellows said, beaming at her.

  “Yeah, Moffy came up with a wizard idea,” Collie said. “She sent lampsprites through the tunnels.”

  “Oh, but I couldn’t have done it without you,” Daisy said modestly. “Collie had the idea of attaching strings to their feet and Bottom ran after them—oh d’you remember when Jinks got all tangled up like a maypole?” They all laughed and I felt a pang for the week I’d missed, as much for the camaraderie Daisy—Moffy?—had formed with the Hawthorn boys as for the head start Nathan had gotten.

  “Yes, wizard, Daisy, well done and jolly good and all that rot. And while you were playing ring-around-the-rosy all week Nathan was racing toward the Ardennes.”

  “The Ardennes?” Mr. Bellows asked, the smile vanishing from his face. “Is that where the vessel is?”

  “Yes, I recognized it from the map on your desk—in the future, that is. Why? Do you know it?”

  “Quite well, actually. I took a walking tour on holiday once with a few chums. The area is crawling with fairies.”

  “It would be,” I said. “There must be a door to Faerie near the vessel. If I can see a map I think I can show you exactly where it is.”

  “There are maps in the tower room,” Mr. Bellows said, “and Mr. Farnsworth will want to see that we’re all right.”

  I raced up the rest of the stairs to the top of the tower, itching to be moving. I’d already lost more time than we could afford. Nathan might already be in Belgium. We found Mr. Farnsworth seated at the long table just as we’d found him a week ago. In another hundred years he’d be a part of the tapestry. He looked up from the book he was reading when we burst in.

  “Ah, so you found her! I was beginning to worry—”

  “We need maps of Belgium,” I said, rudely cutting him off. “The Ardennes forest.”

  “Ah, the Ardennes, fascinating area. Caesar called it ‘a place full of terrors.’ And of course some believe it was the inspiration for Shakespeare’s Forest of Arden—”

  “Yes, fascinating,” I said, cutting him off again. “Perhaps I’ll write a paper on it one day—if the world isn’t bloody blown to bits by the time you give me the bloody map!”

  Poor Mr. Farnsworth blinked at me as if I’d gone mad. Daisy came up beside me and put her hand on my arm. “I apologize for Ava,” she said, “but we are rather in a hurry. Do you have a map of the Ardennes?”

  “No apologies necessary,” Mr. Farnsworth said. “I happen to have one right here.” He riffled through the stack of documents that lay helter skelter over the table. “It was right here . . . ah! No, that’s the Black Forest . . . hm, that’s the Forest of Broceliande . . . ah, here
it is!”

  I nearly ripped the sheet from his hands. It was an ancient piece of parchment with an ink map lettered in antique script with fanciful sketches of castles, stags, and dragons. “Don’t you have anything more recent?” I asked, staring at the faded lines of rivers.

  “This was drawn by a knight of the Order in the thirteenth century,” Mr. Farnsworth replied, drawing himself up indignantly. I think he was more offended that I thought a modern map was preferable to one of his archival discoveries than by my earlier rude behavior. “I think you’ll find it most reliable.”

  I sighed and sat down in a chair that Daisy had brought for me and repositioned the map to catch the light from the skylight. At first glance all the rivers looked as winding as the one I’d seen in the tapestry. There was one called the Aisne, and one called the Meuse, and one . . .

  “Here’s the Semois. And this castle here looks like the one in the tapestry.”

  “Ah, that’s Bouillon. It once belonged to the Order but it was abandoned in the fifteenth century because it was deemed too dangerous to hold.”

  “Too dangerous!” Mr. Bellows exclaimed. “The Order abandoned an outpost because it was too dangerous?”

  Mr. Farnsworth looked embarrassed, as if he’d personally given the order to retreat. “The woods of the Ardennes were home to a particularly fierce breed of man-eating giants.”

  “You mean cannibals?” Collie asked with boyish disdain. “Cannibal giants?”

  “Yes. It was considered prudent to beat a tactical retreat.”

  “This bend in the river here”—I pointed at the parchment— “that’s nearly cut off from the land. What’s it called?”

  “Le tombeau du Géant,” Mr. Farnsworth replied. “The tomb of the giant.”

  “I saw that on my holiday,” Mr. Bellows said. “It’s a steep hill cut off by the bend in the river so that it looks like an island. The locals say it’s a fairy hill. I rather thought it looked like an Iron Age tumulus.”

  “Some of which were fairy hills,” Mr. Farnsworth added.

  “Perhaps the giants were protecting the third vessel,” I said. “The last vessel. Nathan is on his way there now—”

  “Nathan’s taken a little detour.” The voice came from overhead. A Darkling stood on the edge of the skylight, silhouetted against the sky. It could have been Aderyn from my vision, but when he spoke again I knew it wasn’t. “We still have time.”

  “Raven!” I cried.

  He dropped through the skylight and landed right in front of me, his wings spread out over his head like a cloak. I heard Collie and Jinks gasp and Bottom cry, “Blimey, that’s a big ’un!”

  “It’s all right,” Daisy said, “he’s a friend.”

  I dropped the map and ran into Raven’s arms. He mantled his wings over us and kissed me. When I was able to catch my breath I stepped back and looked up into his eyes. “I was afraid—”

  “That I wouldn’t come back? I knew I had to find Helen first.”

  “Helen?” Daisy cried. “Have you found her? Is she all right? Where is she?”

  “She’s safe enough for now,” Raven told Daisy. “She’s in London. Marlin’s watching her. Agnes and Sam are there, too—in fact, here . . .” He withdrew a pouch from his pocket and gave it to Mr. Bellows. “Agnes asked me to give you this. Nathan’s there, too.”

  “Nathan’s there?” I asked. “You mean he went to find Helen? Then maybe he didn’t mean to betray us.”

  “I knew it!” Bottom cried. “Becky wouldn’t do a bunk on us. He went to save his girl, that’s all.”

  “Yes, I think that was his motive,” Raven said. He looked from me down at the table where I’d dropped the map of the Ardennes. “Is this it—is this where the third vessel is?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s in Belgium—”

  “The Forest of Arden,” Raven said. “Our people tell stories about it. It was a stronghold of the Darklings until the giants drove us out.”

  “Giants drove you out?” Bottom gawked at Raven.

  “They were man-eating giants,” Raven said defensively.

  “The whole man-eating-giant legend might have been created expressly to protect the third vessel,” Mr. Bellows said. “Perhaps it will keep van Drood away, too.”

  “I’ve met Judicus van Drood,” Mr. Farnsworth said with a shiver, “and I don’t think that even man-eating giants will keep him away.”

  “But you said Nathan was with Helen,” I said to Raven. “That means he hasn’t given the location of the third vessel to van Drood.”

  “Not yet, but we think he’s using the location of the third vessel to bargain for Helen’s release.”

  “Helen’s release?” Daisy echoed. “You haven’t been able to free her?”

  “She’s under heavy guard and she’s been mesmerized. Even if we kidnapped her she would still be in Drood’s power. She wouldn’t be the Helen you know and love. She . . .” He faltered, looking uncomfortably from Daisy to me. “You see, she thinks she’s in love. She’s engaged to be married . . . to Judicus van Drood.”

  19

  “ENGAGED TO VAN Drood!” Daisy shrieked. “But he’s old enough to be her father!”

  “No one seems to mind that very much,” Raven said. “Mrs. van Beek appears to be quite happy with the arrangement.”

  “Helen’s mother is there?” I asked.

  “Yes. She and Helen are both staying at Drood’s townhouse in Belgrave Square. They go out each day shopping for Helen’s trousseau.”

  “Can’t you get to them when they’re out?” I asked.

  “We’ve tried. Sirena posed as a shop girl at Selfridge’s and tried to talk to Helen, but she kept humming some preposterous wedding tune and nattering on about orange blossoms and lace veils.”

  “It’s like the musical mesmerism spell van Drood used on us last year,” Daisy said. “It drives out every thought but the ones he’s implanted. Poor Helen. She always was afraid that her mother would marry her off to some ancient specimen.”

  “Is Mrs. van Beek mesmerized, too?” I asked.

  “It’s difficult to say,” Raven replied. “She wouldn’t talk to Sirena. She said shop girls should hold their tongues. Sirena overheard her remarking to another lady that her daughter was marrying the richest man in New York. She’s either mesmerized or . . .”

  “Seduced by van Drood’s money,” I finished for him. “We have to stop this. Mr. Omar could break the spell.”

  “Agnes wired for him last week. He should be arriving in London by this afternoon.”

  “But what if van Drood tries to marry Helen before he gets to London?” Daisy asked.

  “Marlin would kill him first—or die trying. And then there’s Nathan. He arrived in London two days ago. At first we thought he was there to rescue Helen but then we watched him sit down to tea with Drood. I listened at the window and heard him say he had something Drood wanted—”

  “The location of the third vessel,” I said. “That’s why he ran off—to bargain for Helen. Did he give it to van Drood?”

  “Not yet. He told Drood he had a map with the location, but it was hidden and that if Drood wanted it he’d have to bring Helen to Victoria Station at noon on June thirtieth.”

  “That’s tomorrow,” Mr. Bellows said. It was the first time he’d spoken since Raven had handed him Agnes’s letter, which he’d been engrossed in reading. “Today is June twenty-ninth. I’ve been a fool to lose track of time while we were running around in the maze. Agnes wrote this yesterday, on June twenty- eighth.”

  Something about the date pricked at my memory. “Something was supposed to happen . . .” I began.

  “The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand,” Mr. Bellows said, holding up the letter in a trembling hand. “Because of your warning the Jagers were there to stop it. They telegrammed to Agnes in London yeste
rday reporting that they managed to foil three attempts to bomb the archduke’s motorcade. Beatrice convinced the first assassin not to throw his bomb. Dolores mesmerized the second assassin. The third assassin threw his bomb but Professor Jager threw himself at the assassin and the bomb bounced off the back of the archduke’s car and went off under the next car, wounding a number of innocent bystanders, including Professor Jager, but sparing the archduke’s life. They thought they had succeeded. The archduke gave a speech at the town hall, in which he said he saw in the people ‘an expression of joy at the failure of the attempt at assassination.’ Beatrice reports that the archduke looked straight at her and Dolores when he said that. Then the archduke and the duchess proposed to visit the hospital where the wounded from the bombing were being treated, especially because they wanted to thank Professor Jager. On the way there they took a wrong turn and as they were backing up a man by the name of Gavrilo Princip stepped forward and shot the archduke and then the duchess. They both died.” Mr. Bellows lowered his hand and dropped the letter to the table. “All our plans . . . even with a warning of what was to come . . . and we were powerless to change the course of history.”

  “But war hasn’t been declared yet,” Daisy said. “Just because an Austrian archduke has been shot in Sarajevo, surely that doesn’t mean that war is inevitable. It took a while, didn’t it, Ava?”

  I tried to remember the newspaper clippings I’d seen—the flurry of war declarations—what had the dates been? “I don’t think war is declared until early August. We still have time.”

  “Agnes writes that Sam is talking to his contacts in London. Vionetta and Lillian are working with the Order’s contacts in the French government and the Jagers have gone to Berlin to try to stem the passion for war in Germany. But I’m afraid that all our attempts will be for naught if van Drood finds the third vessel and unleashes the rest of the tenebrae.”

  “We have to keep Nathan from turning it over to him,” I said.

  “And save Helen,” Daisy added.