The Changeling of Fenlen Forest

by Katherine Magyarody

  Ma gave a hum as she attempted to suppress her scorn. “Bartlieu Fair is hardly one of the ‘wonders of the world.’”

  “Fine, how should I know? Ma, why can’t I come with you? Together, we could sell twice as much.”

  “And Sida?”

  “Sida can trot beside the mule or rest in the cart.”

  Ma raised an eyebrow. I’d recently used Sida’s health as an excuse not to visit Mrs. Helder on market day. I hadn’t wanted to face the unfriendly faces of the village lads and lasses.

  Now, however, I wanted to get far away. Even though I loved the forest, in this moment, its familiarity was stifling. I pressed on. “It’s like you want me to be alone all the time, like some sort of hermit.”

  “If you want to put it that way,” Ma agreed sternly. “You’re much better off here than in the village or on the road, and you know it.” Now her eyes caught on Sida. My fawn lay down and began rolling back and forth, smearing her lovely dappled coat with soot.

  “Must you keep that animal in the house?” Ma said. She never had the same affection for the unicorns as I did. Sometimes, I wondered if Ma found the unicorns interesting only because they produced a rare medicinal ingredient.

  There was a knock at the door.

  The surprise of the sound made Sida leap up and retreat into Ma’s workplace. With a cry of dismay, Ma ran after her. “Get the door, Elizabeth!”

  I went to open it, expecting Mrs. Helder and a basket of pasties.

  Hunter, was my first thought. And then I silently corrected myself. Rich hunter.

  In his hands, he held the reins of a gleaming, blood bay stallion, and the tooled burgundy leather of its bridle and saddle exactly matched his velvet hunting suit. This man had a long, curled, iridescent red-gold plume stretching back from the folds of his flat velvet cap. The village lads sometimes stuck feathers in the crown of their hats—cockerels’ tails and the pinfeathers of geese if they were homely types, pheasant or eagle feathers if they hunted. This feather reminded me of the firebird the elf-girl had described, an animal I hadn’t ever seen. I doubted this man had collected the feather from the creature itself. But my heart squeezed at the thought of Sida. What if he saw her?

  “Hello, Elizabeth,” he said with a white-toothed smile.

  The stranger looked me up and down with indolence, as if I were a toad when he had been hoping for a dragon. I stared back. A crossbow and quiver of bolts gently clinked together on one side of his stallion, while on the other, I saw the long muzzle of an arquebus. Nicholas Helder had told me about them, how they were used to blow men apart on faraway battlefields. This arquebus must be for show, not use—they were horribly inaccurate and very expensive.

  I heard Ma opening our side door—the one that led from Ma’s study to the garden. If she was shooing Sida out, then this man must come in.

  “Would you like to step inside, sir? My mother can give you directions to the nearest town.”

  He smiled and bowed in a graceful sweep. “You don’t remember me? Your cousin, Julian.”

  Something flickered through my memory, but it wasn’t simply matching this self-satisfied creature with his obnoxious younger self.

  Why was he here? Behind the young man, I saw the familiar, black-coated figure of Victor, perched on his palomino mare.

  “Ah, Victor,” Ma said, arriving behind me with a forced smile. She was wiping her sooty hands into her apron. Sida had sullied her clothes, and Ma never wanted to appear dirty. Especially in front of Victor.

  As I ushered in our guests, I saw Sida digging in the garden, throwing dirt up onto her haunches. I hoped she’d cover herself completely while Victor and Julian were inside.

  We shared a stilted conversation over a late-morning meal. Our diet had improved greatly as I learned to match the pictures in Ma’s herbarium to the plants I foraged. I served yesterday’s oatcakes with wild strawberry jam and birch syrup, and soft goat’s cheese crusted with wild thyme on bread. Victor and Julian watched me as I set out the plates and dished out the portions. When they asked me questions, my answers were clear and short. I wanted them to state their business and be gone— I didn’t like the idea of them meeting Sida. Julian kept staring at me and I wished he wouldn’t. When they were done eating, and before I cleared the plates, Victor cleared his throat.

  “Elizabeth, your mother and I have been discussing your future.”

  “When?”

  Victor looked from Ma to me. “We met recently at Bartlieu Fair.”

  That had been less than two weeks ago, and she hadn’t said a thing. “Ma?”

  “Victor, this isn’t what we discussed. I have not had time to…”

  “Look, Sylvia, I don’t mean to be cruel, but we don’t have time. Remember what I said about Mother.”

  “Go on, then.” Her voice was dry.

  “I did not understand why you were at the market, but I have since found out.” Victor set a jar of ointment on the table in front of us. “Sylvia, you have become…known…in these parts.”

  “Have you tried it?”

  “Yes.” The admission seemed to pain him. “It is very effective, very useful.” He cleared his throat.

  “But…”

  “It would not be seemly to accept you back into the family when you have become…”

  “Say it, Victor.”

  His eyes flicked to her sooty apron. “Common. Coarse. A peddler.”

  “She isn’t just a peddler,” I burst out. “She helps heal people all over the county.” In saying this, I was leaving out not only my work, but our utter dependence on tracking, finding and befriending the unicorns. “Some people call her a miracle worker!”

  “Or a witch,” Victor returned lightly. “And it would harm the family’s reputation to have a witch in the family.”

  “How can a witch be common? Witches are uncommon.”

  He ignored me and turned to Ma. “But I am pleased to see your progress with Elizabeth. Her manner is still slightly…raw, but she’s a credit to you. She could be salvaged and shaped. As I said, we would be willing to take her. Just her.”

  “You don’t know me!”

  “Elizabeth, keep quiet! Victor is offering you a chance at a better life.”

  “Better?” Before Victor had arrived, I had been chafing to escape and Ma had restrained me. Now, given the opportunity, I was flinging it away. After all, I had Ma and I had Sida. “Ma, you left! Why should I be sent back to a life you ran away from?”

  “I was a young fool, Elizabeth. Don’t be like me. I’d much rather have you raised properly. You could have an education.”

  “For what?”

  “If we’re lucky,” Julian quipped, stroking his dark moustache and beard, “we’ll be able to marry you off to a merchant of decent standing. A step up from a tinker, at least.”

  I glared at him, and he smiled back at me. I turned to Ma. “But…but what about…” She couldn’t continue the business without me. She needed me! Sida needed me, and Ma knew that, too.

  “We will provide your mother with an allowance that will keep her comfortable.”

  “You’d pay her to give me up? Ma, you’re selling me?”

  “I am willing to sacrifice my small success to see you returned to your rightful place.”

  “What if this is my rightful place?” I had a talent with the unicorns, a gift. If I left, I’d just be the poor relation.

  She lifted an eyebrow. “Trust me, it isn’t.”

  “Just say it. You don’t want me!”

  She gave a snort and I stormed out. I’d go to the forest. I’d take Sida—what would they do then? I kicked open the thatched gate to our garden, and Sida, startled, stopped her digging. Her eyes were wide and scared. “Sorry, girl,” I said, and I bent over and stretched out a hand to her. She was spattered from head to cloven hooves in mud. She trotte
d towards me, but when I stepped backwards, towards the gate, she circled around and hid behind the frames where I’d trained the marrow squash to grow. She did not like my temper. She would not come to me while I was angry. So, I knelt in the dirt and began to weed beside the runner beans, hoping Sida would come to see what I was doing.

  Gardening is mucky work, and when your ma is my Ma, you put on your raggediest clothes for the task. I usually wore the breeches that I took out into the forest, but today I had no choice. I might as well get dirty and show Victor and Julian just how unsuited I was to be adopted. I picked the plantago and pennycress and purslane and lamb’s quarters threatening my rows of hardy cabbage, beets, beans. But still, Sida peeped at me from behind the squash frames.

  The front door opened and closed quietly, and steps rustled towards the garden. Sida ducked behind the broad squash leaves. I didn’t look over my shoulder, but I was ready for Ma to apologize.

  “Dear Elizabeth.” Julian’s voice was cool, ironic.

  I turned my head to look at him but stayed crouched by my runner beans. I prayed for Sida to keep herself hidden. He had his arquebus slung over his shoulder, and he was fanning himself with his handsome gloves. The gold rings on his fingers glinted. It was midday, and the sun beat down on us. My shadow was pooled underneath me, protecting my toes.

  “I’m not going,” I said.

  “Have no fear—I don’t want you.” But his tone was displeased, as if I had failed to respond to his glory. Then he cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, he thought he was unctuous and inviting. “But Elizabeth, I’ve heard that marvellous creatures live in these woods.”

  “Who told you?” I spoke angrily. I hoped my sharp tone would keep Sida wary. What would Julian do if he saw her?

  He laughed. “No one had to tell me. Fenlen Forest is…known. Stories, curious tales in old books.”

  I should have laughed him off or bored him with a lecture on our humble collection of herbs. But I was Ma’s daughter, and my sullen face told him I knew something.

  “Do you remember the day we met? You came out of the forest wearing a bracelet of, well, rather odd animal hair.”

  I glowered at him and covered my wrist. Since my encounter with the strange girl, I had a habit of braiding unicorn hairs and wearing them. Now I wished I’d taken them off. But Julian saw, and his smile widened.

  Look anywhere but his eyes, or at where I thought Sida might be, I told myself. My eyes caught on his stupid hat and the iridescent red-gold feather stuck into it. He saw where I looked and stroked his plumage with a pompous finger. “This is the tail feather of a firebird I shot northeast of here. A species related to the phoenix, you know. I have a reputation as a rather talented hunter of exotic breeds.” I had no response to his foul boast, and his voice rolled on. “So, the question remains: what strange beasties do you keep around here?”

  And that was when Sida coughed quietly. I looked over. She was trying to eat a squash leaf that was much too big for her. But if Julian noticed Sida…. “Is that a dwarf mule?” he asked. “What an ugly creature it is!” His eyes were on Sida. “Unless…”

  I needed to keep his attention on me, away from Sida. “My mule’s not as ugly as you.” Ladies probably thought he was handsome, I thought. Even features, full lips, broad shoulders. I stood up suddenly.

  He opened the gate to my garden. “When Uncle Victor showed me your mother’s ointment, I was sure that she was using alicorn,” he said. He stepped on one of my beet plants.

  “Be careful!” I stepped backwards, trying to block Sida from his line of sight. I heard Sida circle around, nervously kicking into the young cabbage.

  “Or else?” We stood staring at each other. I had mud on my knees and under my nails and he had the power to take Sida away, or to take me away, and to destroy my garden. That flicker of fear in my eyes was all he needed to see. “Come on,” he coaxed, “tell me where they are…”

  “Do you see any unicorns here?” I said. “No. So go away.”

  His lip curled, the smile changed subtly. “I’ve heard that if you tie a maiden to a tree…”

  I took a cautious step back. At least he wasn’t paying any attention to Sida now. “I won’t do anything to please you.”

  “Come now, it won’t hurt.” He grabbed at me.

  I turned on my heel and ran.

  I heard him smashing through my garden as I jumped the fence on the far side. Good. As long as he was coming after me, he was leaving Sida alone. His heavy clothing slowed him down, but he was strongly built. I sped along the stream’s bank but realized he would track me there. I leapt over it and ran blindly through the undergrowth, over fallen trees. I could no longer hear the sounds of the clearing. Somewhere behind me, I heard the bugling call of a unicorn. I couldn’t tell whether it was meant to guide me, or whether it had been surprised by Julian.

  I scrambled up a rocky ledge, scraping my knees badly as I climbed. I ducked behind a big linden and paused. I couldn’t hear him anymore. I steadied my breathing, listening hard for any trace of movement. Nothing—just the fluting song of an oriole.

  Was I safe? I wasn’t sure. But Sida was safe. That was the important point.

  Leaning back against the tree, I looked around. I’d never been in this part of the forest, I thought, though I couldn’t have gone that far. The trees were younger, more widely spaced apart. The sun shone warmly through the thin, shifting canopy. The breeze was warm, but as I nestled in between the roots, I began to shiver. My shirt was damp from running and from fear.

  I waited and waited, listening for the heavy footsteps of a well-fed man.

  But I heard nothing.

  Worried that my limbs would get stiff, I stood up and rubbed my arms and legs. I’d need to get home, but other than climbing down the ledge, I didn’t have a sharp sense of where to go. I couldn’t head home the way I’d come. If Julian had any sense, he’d turn back to the lip of the forest and wait for me to return. But then he might see Sida. But as long as Sida was dirty, he wouldn’t recognize her.

  I followed the sloping ledge, stretching my arms as I went. The forest looked very different from this angle. Though I had passed through old trees, now the place I had run from looked like new growth. Instead of dead leaves between the trees, there was long, silky grass. How odd. I nearly forgot my fear of Julian, when I heard the thud-thud-thud of hooves. Unshod hooves, soft in their fall.

  I looked up to see the old doe-unicorn, my first. She still frightened me, a little, but I respected her more. For that reason, in all our years together, I had not given her any silly nicknames like I had to others. She was not a Dilly (fond of the herb) or a Diamond (a young child’s idea of sophistication). And, of course, she was not at all like Sida. I had never tried to tame my scar-shouldered unicorn. She was her own, silent self. She trotted right up to me and around my back. She was going to lead me home.

  I did not talk to her or tell her about what had happened. I didn’t think she’d be interested in understanding. She liked me, I knew, but I was not where she thought I should be. We walked in silence. I wondered how she saw the forest, how she knew where to go.

  Her nostrils quivered and we veered to the left. I also tried smelling the air deeply. My nose, a bit runny from my exertions, gave a wet snuffle. The unicorn stopped to stare at me severely.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly, and she continued walking. I needed to get home and hide Sida before Julian returned.

  My nose caught the thick smell of damp moss. We were making our way into older-growth forest, where the trees grew close together and the ground was soft with the damp, crumbling remnants of old trunks and stumps. Above us, the leaves were thick, blocking out the sun. My toe snagged on something and I fell over, yelping as the grit of the forest floor got into my skinned knees. The unicorn stopped patiently and waited for me to pick myself up.

  I turned to see what I
had fallen over, thinking it might be alicorn because I saw an ivory, domed shape. There was a space underneath it—that’s where my toe had caught. I hooked my finger under it and pulled. After another tug, the soft earth gave away.

  I found myself holding a human skull by one, empty eye socket. Behind me, the unicorn sighed, impatient, resigned.

  After the first jolt of shock, I felt my pulse calm. This was an old, old piece of bone, most of it stained different shades of brown from its exposure. It was smooth and there were bits of leaf mold under my fingernails when I unhooked them from the socket. Old enough to be buried by nature and to be uncovered by rain and wind. I ran my hand into the cavity in the earth, looking for a snatch of fabric that might have told me about its owner. Nothing there. But the doe-unicorn pawed at the ground and I saw a glint of something. I picked up a thick, gold ring. A man’s ring. Rather like the one Julian had worn this morning and like that of the strange hunter who had attacked me years ago. I felt my heart squeeze in fear.

  I put the skull back quickly and covered it with leaves. I was imagining things. He’d gone back. I’d arrive in our clearing and find him taunting our mule. I’d shout at him for chasing me and I’d refuse to live with him and Victor. Yes. That was what had happened. That was what I would do. But I slipped the ring into my pocket, nonetheless.

  The unicorn was kneeling when I turned around. I was to climb onto her because I had wasted enough time already, her eyes seemed to tell me. I wound my hands into her mane and she set off at a trot. Soon, we were on more familiar trails. She sped into a canter when we found the stream and we burst out into the sunshine.

  Julian was not waiting for me. He was not standing in the meadow grass or watching Sida as she nibbled on carrot fronds.

  My doe-unicorn would not stay to be groomed or to snack on my trodden garden. She did not even seem to notice Sida, who was hiding under a toppled row of beans. Instead, she trotted over to Julian’s blood bay stallion and, with a few prods of her horn, undid the simple knot that secured its reins to our hitching post. The stallion, proud animal though he was, took one glance at her and galloped up the hill in the other direction.