Bessie Bell and the Goblin King

by Charlotte E. English

  Bess thought. ‘Old Mr. Adair has been sufferin’ poor health these past weeks,’ she offered. ‘He keeps to his rooms more’n he comes out, and when he shows hisself he’s lookin’ peaky.’

  This modest offering did not seem such as to interest Grunewald, but he appeared thoughtful. ‘Thank you, Miss Bell,’ he said formally. ‘If you should happen to remember any other such snippets of information, I beg you will inform me.’

  ‘Why should you be interested in the Adairs?’ asked Mrs. Aylfendeane.

  Grunewald shook his head. ‘I am not certain that I am, yet. But something in this neighbourhood is of interest to whoever has taken possession of Tatterfoal, and I am inclined to feel that it may be no coincidence that Bess here was in the same vicinity with the creature.’

  The idea that the appearance of Tatterfoal might have anything to do with her former employers startled Bess considerably, and for a time she had naught to say. Her mind set to work, turning over every encounter with any of the Adair family she had experienced in the final weeks of her employment. But little occurred to her to mention, beyond the poor health of the elder Mr. Adair. It was hardly surprising; the great families considered it their duty to keep their private business from the knowledge of their servants, and sometimes they were even successful.

  ‘I suppose the Market will be held in Aylfenhame?’ Bessie said some time later, when a lull in the conversation offered her an opportunity.

  ‘Invariably,’ said Grunewald.

  Bess nodded. ‘And when are you callin’ it?’

  Grunewald’s leaf-green gaze settled upon her, and narrowed. ‘Why should you ask?’

  Bess finished the last of her excellent fruit jellies, and set down her spoon. ‘Because,’ she said, and met Grunewald’s gaze squarely, ‘I would like to go.’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘How ungenerous.’

  ‘That it may be, but my answer stands.’

  Bessie glared at him. ‘I will go as your servant if I must! I can be useful.’

  ‘If I require that kind of service, I have loyal retainers aplenty to take along.’

  ‘Then take me along for my sake.’

  Grunewald’s brows lifted. ‘My dear girl, I am leaving you behind for your sake. You can have no notion what you are asking.’

  ‘Then explain it to me.’

  Grunewald sat back with a sigh and cast his gaze heavenwards, as though asking the Powers how he had come to be saddled with her. ‘The Goblin Market is no safe place for a lady. Or, indeed, for anybody. In fact, nowhere in Gadrahst is safe. The Goblin Realm is dark, strange and sometimes unfriendly to outsiders. I will not be able to guarantee your safety.’

  ‘Happily, I ain’t askin’ you to.’

  ‘Or indeed your survival.’

  That gave Bess pause, though she shrugged it off. ‘There ain’t a great deal waitin’ for me in England. I’ll take a risk.’

  Grunewald’s brows lowered. ‘I have important and dangerous business to see to. I will have neither time nor leisure to attend to you as well.’ When Bess began to speak, he held up a hand to interrupt her. ‘No more, please. If you wish to travel into Aylfenhame, I refer you to our obliging hosts for assistance. They will manage the matter much more comfortably than I.’

  Bess was silenced. She felt at once that this would not quite do, but she could not imagine why that should be so. There could be little doubt that Mrs. Aylfendeane and her husband would assist Bess; they had made their kind intentions more than clear. But where would she be sent? How would she manage? What would become of her?

  Grunewald, at least, was familiar to her. This, she knew, was but flimsy reasoning, but she had no better. ‘I would rather go wi’ you,’ she said.

  Grunewald blinked. ‘Why?’

  Bess shrugged her shoulders, enjoying the way her silk gown rustled as she did so. ‘I dunnot know.’

  Grunewald appeared to have no response to make. His face was expressive of surprise, and other emotions Bess could not name, and he did not speak. The silence stretched, until Mrs. Aylfendeane spoke.

  ‘Allow me to assure you, Bess, that Grunewald is perfectly correct. If you do not wish to re-enter service, I can understand your feelings most readily, and we will be happy to assist you in travelling to Aylfenhame. I have a friend there who will be glad to receive you.’

  Bess thanked her hostess sincerely, though her words did not change her feelings with regards to Grunewald. That puzzled her, for why should she care for his company? He was abrupt and rude, even if he was also kind. Even if he also treated her as a person, albeit a troublesome one – not merely as a servant.

  The topic was allowed to pass, and a less contentious subject embarked upon. Bess did not raise it again.

  The fog did not come that night, which puzzled the Aylfendeanes and Grunewald more than it reassured them. Had Tatterfoal and his rider achieved whatever purpose had called them into Lincolnshire, or had something occurred to draw them away? If the latter, where might they now be occupying themselves, and with what dark intentions? The household retired to bed early, uniformly concerned, and Bess, too, was content to seek her bed.

  She knew that Grunewald was likely to depart early upon the morning. Her habits were such as to ensure that she would wake well before dawn, which could only be to her advantage. Prior to retiring, she ensured that her minimal belongings were packed and that the slightly better of her two gowns was laid out for the morning. With these preparations made, she drifted into sleep with her mind full of hopes – and fears, which she ignored.

  When Grunewald appeared in the hall of Somerdale shortly after dawn the next morning, Bess was waiting for him. Her cloak was tied around her shoulders, her shabby winter bonnet was in place, and her small bundle of possessions waited by her feet.

  She was alone. Derritharn had settled well at Somerdale, and Bess was loath to disrupt her comfort, especially with a view to carting her into such uncertain territory as Grunewald had described. She would miss Derri, but the brownie would be safe, comfortable and happy. Bess considered that to be more important.

  Grunewald stopped abruptly when he saw Bess and the hopeful face she turned upon him. His brows snapped downwards, and he actually growled. ‘It is to be an ambush, is it? A pretty plan indeed! If you appear before me ready to depart and with that infernal beseeching look, you imagine I shall change my mind!’

  ‘Oh, certainly!’ said Bess with a smile. ‘For tis merely my own safety at stake, and since it is mine, I can do as I choose wi’ that.’

  ‘The responsibility falls upon me, however, as your guide. You will have to be protected, baggage, and who else shall there be to do so?’

  Bess’s smile grew. ‘Why, me own self.’

  ‘Foolish girl. You know naught of what you speak.’

  ‘Right enough, no doubt.’

  Grunewald made an exasperated noise and turned his back on her. He strode to the door without a backward glance, and it became obvious to Bess that he intended to simply walk away.

  She collected up her bundle, and went after him.

  ‘I will find a way to help you,’ she said to his retreating back. ‘What of the Adairs? There’s none as knows them the way I do.’

  ‘If I require more information about them, I will be sure to enquire.’ Grunewald did not stop, or even slow his pace.

  ‘Then I’ll find a way to pay for passage.’

  ‘Even supposing you did, it would change nothing.’

  His curricle waited, and he had almost reached it. ‘I really wish you might gi’ me a chance,’ Bess called up to him.

  Grunewald stopped, and turned back to her. ‘Why?’ he asked in great puzzlement. ‘I do not see why you should not be satisfied with accepting Mrs. Aylfendeane’s offer.’

  ‘Why, if I do that the adventure will be over entirely. I may never learn why Tatterfoal has been wanderin’ again, nor who is the one wearin’ your face. I’ll have no chance to be part of that story, and no way of hel
pin’ to rid these parts of the nasty creature.’

  ‘It will be dangerous,’ Grunewald repeated. ‘Which part of that is failing to impress you?’

  Bess grinned. ‘Eh, as to that. Cleanin' carpets turned out to be more’n a little dangerous, too.’

  A glimmer of amusement appeared in his vivid eyes. ‘I cannot argue with that logic, baggage, but nonetheless I must decline. I’ll not have leisure to see to you.’ He turned from her and got up into the driving seat of his curricle.

  ‘You’ll not change your mind?’

  Grunewald flashed her a wide smile, his eyes twinkling from beneath the brim of his hat. ‘My dear baggage. I never change my mind.’ The reins were in his hands; he nodded once at Bess, and urged his matched pair of black horses into motion.

  Bess watched as the curricle bowled through the gates of Somerdale, and vanished. Well, then; she would have to find some other means of entering Aylfenhame, and of seeing the place called Gadrahst. Why it should matter to her, she did not fully understand, but that did not disturb her very much. Gadrahst, and the Goblin Market! His talk of danger she did not much regard; she had been in the presence of Tatterfoal, and contrived to keep her wits about her. She had been set adrift in the midst of the night, alone and with no conceivable means of seeking help, and she had not descended into hysterics. Why should she not face the Goblin Market with impunity?

  But the opportunity to so test her strength and her resolve was denied her. Her only means of going into Aylfenhame at all lay with the Aylfendeanes. She thought it hardly likely that they would send her anywhere Grunewald had declined to take her; Mrs. Aylfendeane, a gentle soul herself, would be far too concerned for her safety. But once in Aylfenhame, perhaps she could contrive to find the place known as Gadrahst herself.

  Decided, Bess turned her steps back towards the house. But before she could enter the grand doors, a curious sound and a glimpse of something strange attracted her attention. She thought she had heard a hiss; not that of a cat or other such beast, but an odd sound indeed. And her eye had detected a flash of red colour, somewhere to her right.

  Bess looked, but could see nothing untoward. The sound was repeated more loudly, and there – another flicker of red.

  Bess turned away from the doors of Somerdale and trod in the direction of these peculiar signals. She walked the length of the house and around the corner, entering a pretty shrubbery.

  Standing betwixt two flourishing bushes was a curious creature, unquestionably fae. It – or he, Bess thought, judging from the jerkin and oversized hat he wore – was perhaps three feet tall, his skin the colour of oak. His head seemed fractionally too large for his body, an effect magnified by the preposterous hat. His ears were long and tapered at the tips, and he wore a fine collection of brass hoops and trinkets punched through the flesh of each one. The red colour Bess had seen came from the jerkin, which was velvet and rather fine. He beamed at Bess as she approached, showing an array of pearly teeth, and his moss-coloured eyes twinkled a welcome.

  ‘Hello, Baggage,’ he said, and swept a florid bow. How his enormous hat did not tumble off to fall at his feet, Bess could not imagine.

  ‘Baggage!’ she repeated. ‘How came you by that name?’

  The creature tapped one of his long, decorated ears. ‘I was listening. You are on terms with the Gaustin, it appears.’

  ‘I don’t know any Gaustin. You mean Grunewald, I suppose.’ Bess eyed the little man with some suspicion. ‘What do you want wi’ me?’

  The smile widened. ‘Why, I am one of the Gaustin’s retainers!’ And he swept another bow, though not so deep as the first.

  ‘My congratulations,’ Bess said. ‘And my question?’

  ‘Alas, my Gent appears to have abandoned us both. He ought to have taken me with him. And he ought not have been deaf to the pleas of a beauteous young lady.’ He beamed up at Bess. This time, his smile struck her as crafty, and she grew wary.

  ‘And?’ she said. She folded her arms, and stared at the behatted creature in an uncompromising fashion. ‘Oblige me by comin’ to the point.’

  ‘He is gone to Gadrahst, and there you wish also to go. Indeed?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Well then, nothing could be simpler! I am going there myself, almost this moment. Why should we not travel together?’

  Bess looked him over. ‘What manner of bein’ are you, and why are you fixin’ to help me?’

  ‘I am a Goblin of the Yarva tribe.’ He fingered his hat, and tipped it slightly to Bess. ‘Name of Idriggal. And you appear to be a young lady as has the Gaustin’s ear.’

  ‘In point of fact, I am fairly sure he took both of his ears along wi’ him.’

  ‘He listens to you.’

  Bess raised an eyebrow. ‘Considerin’ I am standin’ here talkin’ to you instead of ridin’ along wi’ Grunewald, I’d have to say that he don’t listen too well.’

  ‘You are but a little acquainted with my Gent,’ said Idriggal. ‘He is of an uncompromising nature. If he had decided wholly against your company – or, indeed, against you – he would not have discussed the matter at all. But he did. And what’s more…’ Idriggal paused, and his eyes grew round. ‘He thought about doing as you asked. I saw it.’

  Bess was unimpressed by this vision of Grunewald’s unusual tractability in her case. ‘I don’t see as that amounts to much.’

  ‘Oh, it does,’ said Idriggal softly. ‘He has taken an interest in you. He was concerned for your safety.’ He tipped his hat once more to Bess, a gesture of clear respect. ‘If you were to ask him something else, I dare say he’d listen to that, too.’

  ‘I see. So you want to take me wi’ you to Gadrahst, and some time or other I’m to ask your Gent for somethin’ you want.’

  Idriggal bowed.

  ‘You ain’t worried that his Gentship’d be fearful angry wi’ you for disobeyin’ his orders?’

  Idriggal snickered. ‘He never ordered me not to take you into Gadrahst.’

  ‘Order or not, he obviously wanted nothin’ of the sort to happen! And what if I was to come a-cropper somewhere in them parts?’

  ‘You will be under my protection.’

  Bess eyed his diminutive frame with some scepticism. ‘Oh?’

  Idriggal smiled, and this time the expression struck her as outright menacing. ‘You are used to brownies and other such gentle folk. Believe me, stature is all that I share with the likes of them.’

  Bess’s brows rose, but she would not argue the point with him. If he was ready to guarantee her safety, knowing the probable extent of Grunewald’s wrath if she came into trouble, then he must have full reason for his confidence.

  She thought over his proposal, keeping her eyes upon him as she did so. He merely smiled with calm serenity, and awaited her decision.

  Bess felt there was more to his offer than was apparent, but she was not disinclined to take it up. It served her immediate purpose, and secured her a guide and protector in the process. It enabled her to achieve her goal without further troubling the Aylfendeanes, and it permitted her to make her own decision as to how, why and where to travel into the realm of Aylfenhame.

  As to his bargain, it was little indeed he asked of her. She had merely to talk to Grunewald about some topic of his choosing; she could hardly be expected to control his decision.

  ‘Very well,’ she said, and picked up the bundle she had set down at her feet. ‘Shall we go?’

  Idriggal beamed at her. ‘You are a lady of decision! Are you full ready to depart?’

  Bess ought rightly to take formal leave of her hosts, she knew. But she had already left them a letter of thanks, written in Derri’s pretty script, in the expectation of being carried away from Somerdale by Grunewald in the dark pre-dawn. The hour was still early; she could not expect that the Aylfendeanes would rise for some time yet, and she did not wish to wait. ‘I am ready.’

  ‘Then, it’s away with us!’ He held out a small, gnarled hand, which Bess took. ‘I give you fa
ir warning. We are going by the goblin ways, and they are not… pleasant, to your kind.’

  ‘Eh. Try emptyin’ chamber-pots of a mornin’, and you’ll know unpleasant.’

  Idriggal snickered. ‘Here’s off!’ he cried.

  That was all the warning Bess received. His grip on her fingers tightened; she was wrenched sideways with powerful force, and the world dissolved into blackness.

  Chapter Five

  When Grunewald departed Somerdale for Aylfenhame, it was with an incongruous vision of Bess in mind. Not as he had last seen her, bundled in layers of her shabby clothing and wearing, he suspected, every item of use that she owned. She appeared in his thoughts as she had presented herself last evening, wearing one of Mrs. Aylfendeane’s gowns. The red silk had much become her; red suited her colouring, and her rich dark hair.

  But her appearance did not interest him so much as her manner. Ordinarily, the mere alteration of attire ought not to so transform a person; as an experienced masquerader, he knew that very well indeed. But Bess had needed only that, he thought, to appear in a wholly different light. She had not the deference, the ignorance, or the sense of inferiority which often came with the position of a servant. Hers was a strong mind, and lively, and she well knew her own worth. Some elements of her behaviour had jarred with the vision: her table manners left something to be desired, and her speech gave her true station away. But she needed nothing by way of manner, posture, poise, conversation and ideas. That Isabel had discerned the same things, he had no doubt; for why else would she contrive to present Bessie at dinner, and in a fine gown?

  He had little idea why the recollection of last night’s dinner should live in his mind into the following morning, but he welcomed it as a distraction from the driving problem of his fetch.

  Alas, it could be but brief, for the moment his thoughts once again wandered thither, the problem took full possession of his mind. The knowledge that somebody of unknown identity had taken possession of his semblance, so successfully as to fool everyone in the neighbourhood of Tilby, and even Tatterfoal! The appearance he wore – the pale skin, the thin frame and red hair – were naught but Glamour in truth, and there existed no especial reason why another artist in illusion might not adopt the same characteristics. But to do so with such skill! Sufficient even to impress Grunewald himself! Who was it that wielded such powers, and why had they chosen to adopt his visage?