Carola Dunn

by The Magic of Love

  “Not a word, so I’m to hunt for them, too, as well as the bird. Surely I’ll find one of the three! Not that I want to find Damon or Basil. I’d much rather find the firebird.”

  “When do you leave?”

  “First thing tomorrow morning. Wish me luck.”

  They did so gladly, and Reynata gave him a sprig of lucky white heather she had found on the moors. He stuck it in his lapel and went off happy and excited.

  “You still don’t want him to know the firebird is his brother?” Reynata asked.

  “Best not. It cannot be told without revealing how Damon and Basil attempted to murder Aldwin. Besides distressing John—if he believes it—it might perhaps make him take unnecessary risks to rescue Aldwin.”

  “Will John come to harm?”

  “Not if he does what you tell him,” said the wise-woman austerely. “He is willing but foolish. You must watch over him and counsel him. You will be too far from home to run to me for advice. Listen carefully, now, for there are any number of pitfalls you may have to extricate him from if Aldwin is to be saved. “

  “I’ll do anything!” Reynata said with fervour.

  Chapter VII

  A heavy hoar-frost sparkled in the early sun when Reynata once more took up her post in the ruined cottage near Long Yeoford. Her blood was warm from running, but she curled her white-tipped tail around her black feet, glad to be clad in thick russet fur. A human would have frozen, sitting there.

  John did not keep her waiting. He sang as he rode along the lane on his sturdy brown mare. Reynata wondered what had become of Lord Drake’s golden mare, Amiga. How sad he would be to find her missing when he took his rightful shape again—if Grandmama managed to change him back, if John and Reynata succeeded in rescuing him.

  Too many ifs. She felt like howling.

  The sprig of white heather was pinned to John’s lapel, Reynata noticed. Then she caught sight of a shotgun slung across in front of him. Instinct took over and she jumped up to flee.

  “Don’t be afraid, little fox!” he called, drawing rein. “I shan’t hurt you. The gun is to shoot a rabbit for my supper, for my father is so certain I shall be cheated, he has given me very little money.”

  The Earl might well be right, for what could be more addlepated than to explain himself to a fox? However, this time the fox responded.

  “In return for your kindness, I shall give you good advice,” Reynata said, and told him about the inns at Crediton. “Spend the night at the Pheasant, and don’t go near the other.”

  John laughed. “With what I have in my purse, any respectable inn may be too dear for me. Forty pounds will be stretched thin if I need to go to London. But I shall try the Pheasant, since you recommend it.”

  “You will not be sorry.” All Reynata wanted was to keep him out of the Pair o’ Dice. “And don’t go on to Exeter in the morning,” she added. “Leave Crediton by the Tiverton road.”

  “Why not? All roads lead to London, and I don’t know where my brothers went, or where the firebird is.” He tipped his hat to her and rode on.

  Reynata and Tibb followed. Tibb kept John in sight, flapping from tree to tree along the way. Reynata had to make her way through fields and woods, by hill and dale, detouring around villages. She was tired by the time she reached the outskirts of Crediton.

  Though the days were growing shorter, John had set out early, so it was still light. Reynata did not dare enter the town until dusk. She found a deserted badger’s set dug into the rich red soil and slept for a while. Then, like a ruddy shadow in the rosy afterglow of sunset, she slipped through the back streets to the churchyard, where she had arranged to meet Tibb.

  Of course the rooks saw her. They flew up with a great racket from their roosts in the elms round about, and circled, cawing. No human heeded them. Rooks were always making a fuss about something.

  The great red sandstone church was much the same colour as Reynata’s coat, and there were plenty of buttresses to lurk behind, as well as the tombstones. Blending into the background as dusk darkened, she vanished from the rooks’ memory and they settled down at last.

  She waited anxiously, afraid John might have decided to go farther while daylight lasted.

  “Grawk?” A black shadow circled the church. “Grawk?”

  Reynata barked once. A sleepy rook roused and called an alarm, but the others disregarded it. Tibb swooped down to land on the head of a stone angel on a nearby tombstone.

  “No angel could possibly fly with wings like these here,” he said in disgust as Reynata joined him. “Well, our boy stopped at the Pheasant—stupid birds, pheasants, waiting around to get shot!—as instructed. Never so much as glanced at the Pair o’ Dice. T’others are still there, by the way, win a little, lose a little.”

  “Good. Did John get a room at a price he could afford?”

  “Miaow, the cat I gossiped with told me the landlady fell in love with his pretty face and gentlemanly ways, and his tales of firebirds and talking foxes, though she didn’t believe a word.”

  “Oh dear, I should have told him to keep quiet.”

  “Don’t fret, these townsfolk are all cynics. She thought him a travelling player. He asked if she’d cook a rabbit for him if he brought one, and she said he could have a free bed if he brought two, so he went out and bagged a couple on the common.”

  “I hope she doesn’t mean to...to corrupt his morals,” Reynata exclaimed.

  “Shouldn’t think so,” Tibb reassured her. “She’s as old as the mistress your great-gran, if she’s a day. And speaking of day, tomorrow’s going to be another tiring one. I’m going to roost.”

  “In the morning, I’ll wait for you on the Tiverton road, just outside town. If he goes off towards Exeter, come and tell me.”

  “Never a moment’s rest,” grumbled Tibb, and went to join the rooks.

  Reynata had no money for lodging, so she stayed in fox form and spent the night curled up in the badger’s set. Her sleep was troubled, haunted by dreams of her beloved shut up in a cage, forlornly calling her name. She had to save him.

  Before dawn she was stationed near the lane to Tiverton. Though quieter than the Exeter road, even so early it was busier than the lane where she had awaited the Drake brothers before. From where she lay hidden in a patch of bracken, she watch three farm carts and a herd of cattle pass by.

  At last she heard the sound of hooves with no accompanying creaking of wheels. A moment later, Tibb grawked from the hedge opposite. Reynata emerged to trot along beside John’s horse.

  “Good-day to you, sir.”

  “Well met, little fox! You were right, I did very well at the Pheasant.” John grinned. “What good advice have you for me today?”

  “I know where to find that which you seek.” She prayed it was true, that Sir Rex still held Lord Drake captive.

  “The firebird?” John cried, astonished. “Tell me, where is it?”

  “Let us journey together, and I shall show you.”

  “I’ll be glad of your company,” said the young man, so they travelled on together by hill and dale.

  Without giving away that she knew him, Reynata turned the conversation to Lord Drake. John told her the Earl had not wanted to let his eldest son go off to war. Aldwin was needed at home, to help run the estate. He ought to be setting up his nursery to provide the next generation, not gallivanting around in a fancy uniform.

  “Aldwin said Lord Wellington needs soldiers to stop Boney taking over all of Europe so that he’s invincible next time he decides to invade England. Father agreed, but he thought it was up to Damon and Basil, as younger sons, to volunteer. Of course they both refused. See them risking their precious skins!”

  “They are cowards?” Reynata asked.

  “Not when it comes to bullying those weaker than they are. Facing the Frenchies’ bullets is another matter. I’d go, but Father says I’m too young and ignorant, as though half the soldiers in the army aren’t younger than I!” John said indignantly. “Anyw
ay, Aldwin insisted, and Father gave way in the end. The awful thing is, if he’s killed in battle, Damon will be the next earl.”

  Contemplating this dreadful prospect, they went on in silence for a while.

  “I don’t know why Aldwin suddenly decided to go a-soldiering,” John said with a sigh. “He never talked of it before.”

  Reynata’s heart sank. She held onto a hope that his departure was a long considered plan just coming to fruition. Now she was forced to believe he had seen her love in her eyes and fled rather than having to hurt her with a blunt rejection. It was her fault he was in desperate straits.

  She must rescue him.

  Whenever they came across other travellers, Reynata dodged out of sight behind the nearest hedge or wall, and she gave villages a wide berth. Thus she covered considerably more ground than her companion. By the time she had made a wide circle around Tiverton, which included swimming across the River Exe, she was growing weary.

  Finding shelter in a hazel thicket close to the Taunton road, she lay down to rest her tired limbs. Tibb found her there.

  “He’s on his way,” the raven croaked. “Stopped for a bite to eat in the town.”

  Reynata was hungry, ravenous in fact. She did not like to hunt and kill, let alone to eat raw meat. Luckily foxes were omnivores, so even on her fox days she ate well at home. Since setting out on this journey, she had had nothing but hips and haws from the hedges, and the odd tart, shrivelled crabapple.

  Remembering Cobnut, the dog-fox, she looked about for nuts. Squirrels had stripped most of them from the hazels where she hid, but a few lay on the ground among the yellow leaves. Their red-brown shells were just the colour of Cobnut’s fur. She cracked them with her teeth and crunched the meats in between talking to Tibb.

  “When we get closer to the Vale of Taunton Deane, you will have to fly ahead,” she said. “You know where Sir Rex’s land lies. Find out exactly where his house is. From on high, you can spy out the way there, and come down to tell us which roads to take.”

  “More hard work, grawk! It doesn’t matter if John hears me?”

  “Grandmama did not warn against it, but it might be useful to keep you up my sleeve—if I had one.” Ruefully she raised a paw. “I’m not sure John’s capable of holding his tongue. Still, talking ravens are commoner than talking foxes.”

  “Niaow, who are you calling common?” Tibb protested.

  Reynata laughed at the teasing gleam in his beady eye. “You know what I mean. No one will wonder if John babbles about you. Besides he has already met you, at home. Oh, but....” She hesitated as a dismaying notion struck her: Tibb’s link with Grandmama might make John wonder about a possible link between Grandmama and the talking fox—and between the fox and Reynata. He was not very clever, but he just might guess that they were identical.

  “No, Tibb, on second thoughts,” she said hastily, “it doesn’t matter if he sees you, but don’t let him hear you talk. Here he comes now.”

  John rode up with a cheerful greeting. “Good morning, Friend Fox! I’ve brought you some bread and cheese,” he continued. “You can’t have had time to hunt. I should have saved some rabbit last night, but I didn’t think of it, and I didn’t like to buy a chicken, not knowing how long my money has to last. Do foxes eat bread and cheese?”

  “This fox does,” said Reynata gratefully. She wolfed it down.

  They journeyed on, by hill and dale. The road was busy, for a new canal was under construction nearby. The traffic had the advantage that it gave Reynata an excuse to seek concealment frequently. Hidden by hedges, she could consult Tibb without John’s knowledge.

  Directed by the raven, they came at dusk to the gates in the high wall surrounding Sir Rex Dolmat’s manor house.

  The gates stood hospitably open. Gossiping with the stable cat, Tibb had discovered that Sir Rex had invited his neighbours to dine and to view the wonderful golden bird his orchard guards had caught.

  The firebird was kept in a gilded cage in a conservatory at the back of the house. Reynata’s heart bled at the thought of Aldwin Drake caged and exhibited like a wild beast.

  “Wait until the guests have finished marvelling and gone to dinner,” she told John. “Later, after they all leave and the household retires to bed, the conservatory’s outside door will certainly be locked. Earlier in the evening, with luck you may find it unlocked. Let the bird out of the cage and leave the cage there.”

  John agreed, not questioning her knowledge or her advice. After all, he had set out from home with no notion of where to search and she had led him to the firebird.

  * * * *

  Aldwin knew from the dozens of wax candles lighting the conservatory, their glare doubled by their reflection in the glass wall, that he was to be displayed this evening. He shuddered at the prospect of another humiliating session. It was bad enough being confined, with no prospect of release but death; worse being so cramped he could not even stretch his wings; but the horrible indignity of being gaped at like a fairground freak was worst of all.

  Perhaps he deserved to be transformed for hurting Reynata, but not this, not this!

  The first time it had happened, he wanted to cower on the floor of the cage, making himself as small as possible. Pride forbade such abject cringing. Instead he drew himself up on the perch and glared fiercely, like a mewed falcon he had once seen.

  Here they came now, trouping past the orange trees, grape vines, and pineapple plants. Sir Rex led the way, a small man with a red, choleric countenance at present beaming as he showed off his prize.

  Aldwin endured.

  “Magnificent, isn’t it?” the baronet said, chuckling at the oohs and aahs of his guests. “Look at that shine, like real gold. Had a thief after it the other day. We caught the fellow by sheer chance. There’s a little surprise waiting for the next who tries.”

  At last they all went away. No one came to snuff the candles, so Aldwin could not lose himself in sleep. His thoughts turned, as they did so often these endless days, to Reynata.

  How could he have brought himself to leave her? Now, when it was too late, he knew all he wanted from life was Reynata at his side, her children at his knee. What an arrogant addlepate he had been to consider for a moment that her obscure birth was more important than the reality of the woman he had held so briefly in his arms!

  Father would cut up rough when he presented the wise-woman’s foster-child as his bride, but he’d come round, relieved to have his heir safe at home. Aldwin’s insistence on going off to war had distressed and angered the Earl. In the end, surely he must welcome the daughter-in-law for whose sake his eldest son returned to him—if Aldwin ever returned.

  For a moment he had lost sight of the present. What brought him back was a sound, the faint click of a latch, the fainter squeak of hinges, barely audible to his sharp bird senses.

  Footsteps followed, someone clumsily attempting to tiptoe in boots. And there was the blurred reflection in the glass, a man moving stealthily between the plants. Another would-be thief! Aldwin was not sure he wanted to be stolen. He might get a chance to escape. On the other hand, it could materially worsen his prospects, for at least he was warm, dry, and well-fed here.

  Approaching the corner where the cage hung, the thief came into sight. Great Heavens, it was John!

  Aldwin suddenly recalled Sir Rex’s precautions against theft. Desperate to warn his brother, he opened his beak, but all that emerged was a whispered “Reynata!”

  John contemplated him with satisfaction, which changed to a frown of doubt.

  “Friend Fox said to take the firebird out and leave the cage,” he muttered to himself. Aldwin’s hopes flared. “But I’m not such a lobcock. It’s a very fine cage, and how am I to carry the bird without it? I daresay it’s heavy, but I’m no weakling.”

  Not without difficulty, he lifted the cage from its hook. At once bells began to peal, rung by well-concealed cords attached to the back of the cage.

  John stood frozen as half a doz
en hefty footmen rushed in.

  Chapter VIII

  After a wakeful night locked in a cold, damp back-scullery, John was grateful for the crust of bread and mug of ale he was given for breakfast. He had just finished the last crumb and drop when a beadle came to fetch him before Sir Rex.

  The baronet strutted up and down the room like an angry turkey-cock. “I am the local magistrate,” he announced, “and I’ve a good mind to transport you. Who are you, who come creeping into my very house to steal my property from under my nose?”

  John hung his head. Somehow he had not thought of it as thievery. “I’m John Drake,” he said, mortified, “youngest son of the Earl of Androwick. The firebird came and ate the golden apples from my father’s most precious tree, and broke the branches, too. Father sent me to find it. He wants it for his aviary.”

  “The Earl of Androwick, eh?” Sir Rex gave him a hard look, then softened. “Sit down, sit down, my boy. Why did you come as a thief in the night? If you had asked me for the bird, I’d have been glad to give it to you for your noble father’s famous collection. Now, word of your breaking and entering is bound to get about. What will the world say of the Honourable John Drake?”

  Crestfallen and thoroughly ashamed, John was silent.

  “However,” the magistrate continued, “I just may be able to keep the business quiet. There’s something you can do for me in return, if you will.”

  “Anything!” said John eagerly.

  “Lord Afron has a golden mare in his stables, with a silver mane and tail, the most beautiful horse in the world, that runs like the wind. He’s too heavy to ride it. It’s wasted on him, but I would appreciate it properly, make good use of it. I offered two thousand guineas, yet he refuses to sell it to me! Bring me Lord Afron’s golden horse, and I’ll make sure none of my people mentions the burglar’s name. In fact, I’ll even give you the firebird to take to Lord Androwick. It’s good for nothing but to look at, after all.”

  “I’ll do my best, sir, I promise.”