Carola Dunn (22 page)

 “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 dozen 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.”

 “You’d better,” snapped Sir Rex, “for if you fail I’ll write about your misdeeds to all the newspapers.”

* * * *

 Crouched under a hawthorn on the other side of the lane, Reynata stared at the manor house at the end of the avenue beyond the gates. She had lurked right by the gates as long as darkness lasted, waiting in vain for John to return with his enchanted brother. The guests had left, the gates were closed and locked, daybreak came, bringing no sign of youth or firebird.

 John had failed. He must be a prisoner somewhere in the house, and Lord Drake was still a captive.

 If only Reynata had gone herself to free him! But she would have had to change back to human form, and she could not have concealed it from John.

 What was she to do next?

 Tibb came winging swiftly above the carriage drive, squawking excitedly. “Miawk! Griaow! He’s coming, he’s coming!”

 “Lord Drake?” Reynata demanded, springing to her feet. “John and Lord Drake?”

 The raven sadly shook his head. “Niaow, just Master John. And he doesn’t look happy.”

 She saw him coming then, a drooping figure plodding down the drive. At his side marched a stout man in the dress of a beadle. Reynata slid back among the trees to where John had left his horse tied.

 Gate hinges creaked. “His Honour’s allus as good as his word,” said the beadle sternly, “so don’t you go making a mull of it, or your name’ll be mud from here to kingdom come.”

 A moment later John appeared, dishevelled and bristle-chinned, his neckcloth obviously tied without the aid of a mirror. When he saw Reynata, he looked ready to cry.

 “You waited for me! You were right, if I hadn’t tried to bring the cage, too, we’d have been clean away. How did you know it would set off alarm bells?”

She could not reveal that her far-sighted foster mother had foretold danger from taking the cage. Nor dared she tell him simply that she had  wished to give Lord Drake his freedom as soon as possible.  If John found out the firebird was his brother, it would not help and could only make him feel much worse about his failure. “What happened?” Reynata asked.

 He told her. When he came to describe the steed coveted by Sir Rex, she pricked up her ears.

 “A golden mare with silver mane and tail?” she exclaimed. “She can only be your brother’s!”

 “Aldwin took Amiga to Spain with him,” John objected.

 “Amiga never left England,” Reynata said emphatically. “Believe me. Have I not proved right so far?”

 “Y-yes, but—”

 “Reach the mare, and you may easily discover whether she is Amiga. You know how she answers to her name?”

 “She nods, twice.” John nodded in demonstration and agreement. “Yes, that’s it!”

 “You know where to find her?” Reynata asked.

 “Lord Afron has her. They gave me directions to his house.” He frowned. “How do you suppose the baron came by her? Aldwin would never have sold her.”

 “There’s no knowing.” She sniffed the air. “It will rain before dark. Come, let us be on our way. The sooner we go, the sooner Sir Rex will deliver the firebird.”

 They set off again, leaving the vale and crossing the Black Down Hills towards Lord Afron’s estate.

 Reynata seized her first chance to send Tibb to reconnoitre. Returning, he described the viscount’s stables. He had seen the golden horse and was certain she was Amiga, though he had no opportunity to utter her name to her.

 With only fifteen miles to go, by hill and dale, they arrived in mid afternoon. A steady drizzle increased John’s respect for Reynata’s omniscience, but left him bedraggled and muddy.

 “I don’t want to try another burglary,” he said, regarding with dismay the closed gates in the high wall surrounding Lord Afron’s mansion.

 “It’s your brother’s horse,” Reynata argued, “and, as you said, he would never have sold her. It will not be stealing, especially if Lord Afron stole her from Lord Drake.” Nor would freeing the firebird have been theft, though she could not tell him so. “Lord Afron refused to sell Amiga to Sir Rex for two thousand guineas, so he will not sell to you for the few pounds you carry, far less give you the mare.”

 “I can but ask,” John said obstinately.

 “Once he has refused you, he will be on his guard,” she pointed out, but John was already knocking on the door of the lodge.

 “I wish to speak to Lord Afron,” he said to the gatekeeper who answered his knock.

 The man laughed heartily. “‘Is lordship don’t talk to beggarly whippersnappers,” he said, and slammed the door.

 Red-faced, John said in an angry voice, “You’re right, Friend Fox, it’s no use trying to do things right. How shall I get over the wall, though, and bring Amiga out?”

 “If we follow it around, we shall come to a place where it is crumbling,” said Reynata, who had told Tibb to look out for just such a spot.

 They found it, and John agreed it was low enough for Amiga to jump with ease.

 According to Tibb’s chat with the stable cat, the baron’s grooms all went to the kitchen for their supper at the same time.

 “Go as close as you safely can, and watch for them to leave,” Reynata instructed John. “The kitchen is quite close, but if you are quiet no one will hear you. When Amiga recognizes you, she will follow you without a halter. Whatever you do, don’t stop to saddle her.”

 “I can ride bare-back,” boasted John, retrieving his self-respect after the humiliation of the gatekeeper’s laughter.

 Climbing over the wall, he trudged towards the mansion. It was twilight by now, and still raining, so there was little chance of his being seen. He was not at all surprised to find everything just as the fox had described it. Soon after full dark, he watched the coachman, grooms, and stableboys troop off for their supper. He sneaked into the stables and walked along the row of stalls, looking for the golden mare.