Abruptly Robin got to his feet and began to pace, as if trying to work out the way things must have gone.
“But you couldn’t just snatch it, could you? It’s too heavily guarded.”
“That’s right,” Sean acknowledged. “But Jack wasn’t ready to give up. We knew we had four weeks before you’d come after us, Gen.”
“So you decided to wait for a second session,” I said.
Sean nodded. “This time I was to accompany Jack. He’d told me how the assizes worked overall—where the harp was placed, how many men guarded it, how it was transported. But he wanted a second pair of eyes, just to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.”
Sean gave me a crooked smile. “He was trying to think like you, Jack said. He was trying to build a plan. But for all that, it was hopeless. The session was almost over for the day when a fight broke out. It happened so quickly I never did know what it was about.”
“Don’t tell me,” I said, as what must have happened next came clear in a flash. “Jack improvised.”
“He did.” Sean nodded. “But it was really all my fault, because I’m so tall. I could see what no one else could, not even Duke Guy himself. For a few precious moments, the harp was left unguarded.
“The fight was sudden and fierce. One moment everything was calm. In the next, it was pandemonium. Half of Guy de Trabant’s soldiers waded into the fray. The other half rushed to protect the duke himself. In the confusion, the soldiers forgot all about guarding the harp.”
“So you took it,” Shannon breathed. “You took it, not Jack. Oh, Sean.”
“I knew how much it meant to him,” Sean said, his tone pleading. “I used the confusion to get to Jack and give him the harp. He was more likely to be able to slip away, because he’s—you know—the same size as most people, and the harp really did belong to him, after all. But the harp . . . the harp . . .”
His voice choked with emotion.
“The harp began to sing, didn’t it?” Robin asked quietly. He stopped pacing and reached out to lay a hand on the giant’s shoulder. Seated, Sean’s shoulder was almost the same height as Robin’s.
“The harp began to sing,” echoed Sean. “I’d heard the sound it made as it helped Duke Guy pass judgment. But this was something different, something more. Never in my life have I heard such a sound. I don’t think . . .” He twisted his head to look into Robin’s face. “I’m not sure I have the words to describe it.”
“I think I may,” Robin said quietly. From across the clearing, he met my eyes. “It sang for me, the one and only time I touched it. I’m still not sure I understand why.
“Imagine the sound that you love best, the one that never fails to fill your heart with joy. Perhaps it’s a sound you remember from childhood. Or maybe it’s a sound that’s been silenced forever, your mother’s voice singing a lullaby. Whatever that sound is, the voice of the harp is as beautiful, and more. Once you have heard it, you will never forget.”
“I could never have described it like that,” Sean said. “But that’s how it was. The second I put the harp into Jack’s hands, it began to sing. At first it was just a note—a tone. But then it began to call out a single word: ‘Master! Master! ’”
“The harp called out for Guy de Trabant?” I exclaimed, astonished.
“No,” Sean said. “Though I thought so at first myself. But I’ve had a lot of time to think about it since. I think your plan worked, Gen. Reclaiming the wizard’s gifts was the best way to demonstrate your birthright. Somehow that harp recognized Jack. It knew who he was.”
“His true master,” Robin said. “Roland des Jardins’ son.”
“But the harp gave him away,” Sean said in a tortured voice. “The moment it began to sing, the soldiers surrounded Jack. It was terrible. For a moment I thought . . .”
“You thought they would kill him,” I said.
Sean nodded. “But they did not. They dragged him forward, the harp still in his hands, and threw him at Guy de Trabant’s feet. The expression on de Trabant’s face when he got a good look at Jack almost stopped my heart.”
“He recognized him too,” I said. “He must have, Jack looks so much like our father. Anyone who had seen Duke Roland would know Jack was his son.”
“What happened then?” Shannon asked, anguish in her voice.
“The soldiers took Jack away,” Sean said. “They dispersed the crowd. And then . . . nothing. For days the town was locked up tight. It was impossible to get close to the fortress. Then, about two days ago, Guy de Trabant sent out his heralds.”
“That would be when the soldiers appeared at the Boundary Oak,” Robin murmured.
“There’s to be an execution,” I said. It felt as though a band of iron was wrapped around my heart.
“No,” Sean said quickly. “Something more complicated, more cunning.” He turned to Robin. “You know the harvest festival is just a few days off?”
“Of course,” Robin said, nodding.
“There’s to be an addition to the festivities,” Sean explained. “An archery contest. Duke Guy has a champion archer who will compete against all comers. If he is unbeaten, the duke’s cause will be deemed just and the prisoner will be executed the following morning.”
Shannon gave a low moan. She doubled over, as if all the strength she usually displayed was folding in on itself.
“And if the champion is defeated?” I asked, though I felt like I was suffocating.
“Then the winner will have earned the right to decide the prisoner’s fate,” said Sean. “Duke Guy agrees to be bound by the outcome.”
“So all we have to do is to find someone who can outshoot the champion,” I said, buoyed by a surge of unexpected hope. “Just how good is he? Can it be done?”
“Oh, it can be done,” Robin answered. “It has been done, but only once.”
“Well then, that settles things!” Shannon cried. She shot to her feet, all her earlier energy restored. “We find the man who bested him and get him to do it again.” At the look on Sean’s face, she broke off. “What?”
“I don’t know this for sure,” Sean said, his tone apologetic. “It’s just what I heard them say in the town. It’s why I thought I must come to the forest myself, to try and find Guy de Trabant’s son.”
“It’s you, isn’t it?” I asked. “You’re the one who can defeat the archer.”
“The only one,” Robin admitted. “A fact my father knows quite well. In fact, it’s what he’s counting on. His trap is just like he is, cunning and subtle. If I don’t show up, not only will I brand myself a coward, I’ll have an innocent man’s death on my conscience.”
“But if you do appear, and best the champion for a second time . . .”
“Then my father wins on all counts,” Robin completed my thought. “He will have both me and Duke Roland’s son within his power. He can do whatever he wants with both of us.”
NINETEEN
Robin immediately began to make preparations for Jack’s rescue. The archery contest was set for the following day. That didn’t give us much time. Robin sent Slowpoke and the quickest of the other scouts back through the forest to find the others and notify them of what was going on. As many of Robin’s people as could be assembled were to come to the archery field to mingle among the crowds.
Steel, who was not known in Duke Guy’s lands, volunteered to go on ahead to reconnoiter the town. That left Robin, Sean, Shannon, and me to proceed together, along with the few remaining scouts. In less time than I might have dreamed possible, our small band had dispersed. Steel would be the last to depart.
Robin was going to try to save Jack, no matter what.
“Will you walk with me a moment, Gen?” Robin asked. “There is something I would like to show you.”
“Go ahead, Gen,” Shannon said quickly. “Sean and I will go with the scouts.”
Robin set a brisk pace, brisk enough to make conversation impractical, though not quite impossible. As we walked, long shadows began to fa
ll. It will be dark soon, I thought. All our fates will be decided tomorrow.
I tried to think of a way to help. Some fallback plan I could provide. Making plans was supposed to be what I was best at, but I couldn’t seem to get my mind to focus. It skittered back and forth like a mouse in a trap.
If Robin did nothing, I would lose Jack for sure. But if he participated in the archery contest and could not escape his father’s trap in time, I would lose them both.
Think, Gen. Think! I told myself. Don’t just use your head. Use your heart.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To the Boundary Oak. It’s not far. I thought you might like to see it, and I find . . .” Robin frowned. “I find I’ve suddenly discovered a superstitious streak in my nature. The Boundary Oak is a testament to the way things ought to be. I would like to see it again myself.”
One last time, I thought, hearing in my head the words he did not speak aloud. But it won’t be. I won’t let it.
“Gen,” Robin suddenly said. He stopped and turned me toward him with his hand on my arm. “If things go wrong tomorrow—”
“No,” I said fiercely. I reached up to cover his hand with mine. We were standing face-to-face. One more step and we would have been in each other’s arms.
“I don’t want to hear it, Robin. Call it my own superstitious nature, if you will. I don’t want to talk about what will happen if we fail. I want to think of a way for us to beat the odds.”
“They’re stacked pretty high against us,” he said.
“What difference does that make?” I answered stubbornly. “We just have to try harder. I keep thinking there must be a way out, or at least around.”
“I hope you’re right,” Robin said.
“You listen to me, Robin de Trabant,” I said. “I am not going to lose you now. Not you and not Jack, not both at once.”
“You would be sorry, then, if I never came back?” Robin asked softly.
“Don’t be an idiot,” I said, and suddenly we were both smiling.
“Gen des Jardins,” he murmured. “Always full of surprises.”
“Show me this tree,” I said. “Perhaps it will inspire me.”
“It’s not much farther now,” Robin said. He continued walking. But he kept my hand in his, our fingers linked tightly. “There,” he said, a few moments later.
We stood at the base of a small rise. At the summit was a clearing, still bright with fading sunlight. Whether it had been created naturally, or by those who had planted the tree long ago, I did not know. In the clearing’s center stood an enormous oak. The trunk was broad, its thick limbs outstretched. A scattering of acorns lay on the ground. As we made our approach, a breeze came up, causing thick clusters of brown leaves to tumble to the ground.
Something is not right here, I thought.
“Robin,” I said, my voice little more than a whisper. “I fear this tree is dying.”
Now that I knew what to look for, I could see that it was so. The great trunk was rent by a deep divide. Though autumn had begun to come on, the leaves should still be green. Instead they were dry and brittle, prematurely brown. Even I, who have never been fanciful, could almost feel the effort the oak was making simply to stay alive. It was a battle the tree was losing, day by day.
“This is my father’s doing. I know it,” Robin said in a ravaged voice. “It is the sickness his rule brings on the land. It is wrong; it is false, and even this tree knows it.”
I let go of his hand and moved to place my palms against the great trunk. It seemed to me that I could feel the oak’s heart, all the possibilities for the future, striving against the blight that Guy de Trabant brought to both the lands the tree had been planted to honor.
“This tree is like you,” I said. “It has not given up.”
“Then tell me how I can prevail!” Robin cried. “It seems to me that my father holds all the cards. The only thing I’ve ever successfully accomplished is running away. I don’t even truly fight him. All I do is deprive fat merchants of their wares.”
“You’ve done something your father never has,” I said. “You’ve won the people’s love.”
“And I am grateful for it,” Robin replied, his voice more calm. “It’s the only reason no one’s ever claimed the bounty on my head.”
“What does your father offer?” I asked, suddenly curious as to the price Guy de Trabant had set on the life of his only son.
“The most precious thing he has to offer,” Robin answered bitterly. “Duke Roland’s harp. In exchange for turning me in, my betrayer may use the lyre just as my father does.”
“You mean they get to ask questions?” I said sharply. “And the harp will say whether the answers received are true or not?”
“Three questions,” Robin said. “Just like three wishes.”
“And they may be posed of anyone?”
“Anyone.” Robin nodded, a faint frown between his brows. “And the person chosen will be compelled to answer. My father has sworn it.”
The harp, I thought, and I felt my thoughts begin to tumble and whirl like the fall of leaves around me. The lyre that could sing with its own voice and could never tell a lie.
What if the wizard had bestowed a gift even greater than he himself knew? What if he had provided the means to save us all?
“You have an idea,” Robin said. “Tell me what it is.”
I took my hands from the tree and pressed them against the sides of my head, as if to help organize my thoughts.
“Tell me something first,” I said.
“Anything.”
“Why did you run away from home?”
“What difference does that make?” Robin asked.
“Please,” I said.
“All right,” Robin said. “It isn’t very honorable, I’m afraid. I left because I simply couldn’t stand it anymore. I couldn’t stand to see the man my father had become. I couldn’t bear the thought that I might grow to be just like him.”
“And what is that?”
“Broken,” Robin answered shortly. “Bitter and frightened when he might have been honorable. But I think what I hated most were the times I caught glimpses of the man my father might have been, if not for what he’d done to Duke Roland.”
Robin paused, as if struggling with his remembrances. His hands clenched at his sides.
“It’s true what they say about me, you know,” he continued. “I did run wild. But I was never wild for the pleasure of it and nothing more. I ran wild so that my father and I would both know that I was different, that I would never grow to be the kind of man that he was. The kind who would betray a trust.
“In the end, it made no difference at all. My father betrayed trust for me. He sent his soldiers into the city. He snatched families from their homes. That was the night I knew I had to leave for good. That was the night that I stopped loving him.”
“I’m not so sure you did,” I said. “If you had, he couldn’t hurt you nearly so much. And if he’d stopped loving you, he wouldn’t try so hard to get you back.”
“It’s not for love,” Robin denied swiftly. “It’s policy. I’m a pawn to be played and nothing more.”
“Are you absolutely certain of that?” I asked. I went to him then and seized him by the shoulders. “Are you sure there’s nothing more? Are you willing to stake your life on it?”
“Tell me what is in your mind,” Robin said. “Tell me what your eyes see that mine do not.”
I took a breath, and shared my thoughts.
But it was only after he had listened carefully and agreed to my proposal, only after we met up with Sean and Shannon and I had explained what must be done, only after the four of us were hastening toward our fates, that I realized I had left something out.
I had told Robin the secrets I thought his father’s heart might hold, but I had failed to share the secrets of my own.
TWENTY
And so the final stage of my journey began. I am on an adventure now in earnes
t, I thought. For surely part of the definition of true adventure is the inability to see its outcome. I knew what I hoped, and I had convinced the others to believe in that hope with me. But whether or not our hopes would prevail and all would come out happily in the end . . . The answers to those questions would still have to wait.
Duke Guy’s harvest festival looked much like those that Jack, Mama, and I had attended every year in the World Below. The houses in the town were decorated with cornstalks bound together with brightly colored ribbon, sheaves of grain, and vivid orange pumpkins.
The people were dressed in their holiday finery. But in spite of all this, with the exception of the very young children playing tag through the streets, the mood in the town did not seem joyful. Instead it seemed watchful.
Guy de Trabant’s people have not been fooled, I thought. They knew that something dire was coming. I only hoped we could use this to our advantage. These people loved Robin. If need be, would they defy his father for him?
“We should head for the field,” Shannon said in a low voice. “It’s almost time for the archery contest.”
In the two days since the announcement of the archery contest, Duke Guy’s servants had been busy readying the field. A raised platform had been constructed halfway along one side. At its back, a series of banners snapped in the breeze. In its center stood Duke Guy’s great chair. I wondered if it was the same one he had carried into the court of assizes.
Several other chairs sat alongside, though none was as grand as the duke’s. On either side of the platform were sets of bleachers for Duke Guy’s court. Beyond that was a place for the common people to stand, though many had already taken up places on the far side of the field, facing Duke Guy and his entourage.
And throughout, in every place where people gathered, Duke Guy’s soldiers were also present. Shannon and I had seen the soldiers during the day, strolling through the streets as if they were on holiday. They weren’t, though. Every man we saw had his breastplate freshly polished, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. I wondered if any mingled with the crowds dressed as commoners. There was simply no way to tell.
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