Snow White and Rose Red (36 page)
Read Snow White and Rose Red Online
Authors: Patricia Wrede
Blanche had no fault to find with this program, and the two girls set to work at once. In the two hours that passed before the Widow returned, they planned and plotted with all the suppressed energy produced by nearly two months of frustration and imposed inactivity. After some discussion, they were forced to set aside the idea of duplicating Dee and Kelly’s spell, since they could not be sure what preparation had gone into making the tools the two men had used. They settled at last on an approach which was familiar to them both: herbery. Both girls had extensive knowledge of the mundane uses of the plants they gathered; their knowledge of the magical properties of herbs was not quite as wide, but it was still impressive. They would see what could be done with spells based on the plants that were their livelihood. In addition, this approach was unlikely to attract attention, either from their mother or from suspicious villagers.
The Widow was pleased by the marked improvement in her daughters’ dispositions in the days that followed. She commended their work in the garden, and was more than willing to consent to several herb-gathering expeditions in the woods, once she was assured that the girls would stay away from Faerie. She began to hope that she had been right in thinking that the girls’ preoccupation with magic would fade naturally, though she was not foolish enough to believe it had actually done so with such speed. She was more inclined to believe that Rosamund and Blanche were merely restraining any open acknowledgment of their interest, but for the time being she was content with that.
Meanwhile, Rosamund and Blanche took every opportunity to slip away to the forest and perform their trials. They dried rosemary and rue and herb-of-grace and burned them separately, and then together. They sang over some and muttered in Latin over others. They made infusions of boiling water and dried camomile leaves, and collected the essence from rose petals and mint by crushing them and steeping them in cold water for days.
Nothing they tried served their purpose, but they learned a great deal from their mistakes. By mid-September they had made a dark but sweet-smelling ointment of dill seeds pounded with vervain and rosemary leaves, mixed with a strong infusion of thyme, marigold, and powdered witch hazel bark, and thickened with honey and beeswax and the essence of rose petals. The girls agreed that this was the best they could do; they bottled it with care and took it home, to await an opportunity to anoint Hugh with their concoction.
When it became clear that, love charm or no, John Rimer had no interest in her, Joan Bowes returned to her jealous prying. At first she discovered nothing, for John was still avoiding the Widow’s cottage. Then one day she followed Rosamund and Blanche into the forest and watched them for some time from behind a tree. Joan knew next to nothing of herbery, but she was certain that what she saw went more than a little beyond the bounds of the permissible. Gleefully, she hurried back to Mortlak to consider what use to make of her new knowledge.
At the edge of town she met with a knot of people who had paused briefly to indulge in yet another long complaint against Dee and Kelly. Joan felt obliged to join them and come to the defense of the wizards. She still had confidence in their abilities, despite the apparent failure of Master Kelly’s spell, and there was no telling when she might need another love charm.
“Master Kelly’s not so bad as that,” she broke in, interrupting the baker’s diatribe, to which half a dozen men and women were listening and nodding in agreement.
“Aye, he is indeed,” the joiner’s wife contradicted sharply. She did not like Joan, and was glad of the opportunity to put her in her place. “Why, he’s a sorcerer, girl!”
There were murmurs of agreement from others of the group. A brown-haired, heavyset man with a look of ponderous respectability said, “So it seems. Have you cause to think the matter otherwise, Mistress?”
Rather than be drawn into an all-too-revealing discussion of her relationship to Master Kelly, Joan switched tactics. “‘Tis but that there’s others worse than he about,” she said darkly.
“There’s none in Mortlak worse than Doctor Dee,” the baker said flatly.
“Belike not in it, yet still too close for my liking!” Joan retorted.
“Who is it you speak of?” the heavyset stranger asked mildly. “Or do you but talk at random?”
“Not I!” Joan said, tossing her head. “‘Tis the Widow Arden and her daughters, if you must have it.”
“Ridiculous!” the joiner’s wife snorted, and there were several disbelieving headshakes among the others of the group. The sawyer’s daughter and the wheelwright, however, both nodded slightly, which was all the encouragement Joan needed.
“I say that someone in the Widow’s house dabbles in things better left alone,” Joan said. “I’ve seen the signs of it myself.”
“What signs are those?” the baker said skeptically.
“She’s kept a familiar, i‘the shape of a lamb; last winter when my mistress sent me to her, I saw it with my own eyes.”
“It seems it’s done you no harm,” the joiner’s wife said in a sarcastic tone.
“‘Tis only because I said my prayers at once when I saw the creature,” Joan answered, warming to her tale. “It set a most unnatural fear upon me, which vanished at the Lord’s name.”
“Fool of a girl,” the baker said, shaking his head. “Do you not know that Master Hinde gifted the Widow with a winter lamb last October? It’s grown into a fine young sheep, and pastures in the commons with Master Hardy’s flock; there’s naught unnatural about the animal.”
Joan shrugged. “I know what I saw. And there’s yet more: from my small window I’ve seen strange lights in the fields near the Widow’s cottage, late at night, and come upon her daughters in the forest burning herbs and chanting in the smoke.”
“Thou‘rt a foul-minded, vicious wench, to invent such tales about so good and pious a woman as the Widow Arden,” the joiner’s wife said angrily.
“Believe what you will,” Joan answered with an outward show of indifference. “For me, I’m glad the church doth stand twixt Mistress Rundel’s house and the Widow’s. I’d not sleep nights else.”
“I’ll hear no more of this,” the joiner’s wife said, and swept off in a state of high indignation. Her departure signaled the breakup of the little group of gossipers, and Joan continued on her way home, satisfied that she had done what she could.
The heavyset stranger continued on through Mortlak to the tavern, where he took a room on the third floor. There he sat deep in thought for some time. He had come to Mortlak to follow in the footsteps of the spy Charles Sledd, but in a more circumspect manner. Sledd’s report had very nearly finished the investigation into Dee and Kelly’s supposed black arts, for it was obvious to his superiors that the spy was both vicious and vindictive. But the rumors and unrest were too serious to ignore, and at last Master Phillip Rodgers had decided to come and see for himself.
Thus far, his investigations had done nothing to diminish his misgivings about the possible prosecution of Doctor Dee. On the contrary, it seemed that the Polish Prince, Laski, had recently become embroiled with Dee and his dubious friend, Kelly. It would never do for a foreign dignitary to become involved in a sordid investigation of witchcraft and black magic.
Joan’s remarks about the Widow Arden seemed, therefore, a blessing straight from Heaven. Master Rodgers’s superiors would be as relieved as he if Mortlak’s witchcraft rumors could be brought home to a penniless widow instead of a learned man with influence at court. The lamb was a mildly unfortunate detail, since it was unlikely that a servant of the devil would choose as a familiar an animal symbolic of the Christ, but a clever prosecutor might do something with the perversion of holy things to evil purposes.
Rodgers therefore determined to turn his attention on the Widow Arden and her daughters, while continuing his investigation of Dee and Kelly only far enough to make it clear that he had done his duty. This decision made, Master Rodgers descended to the serving room to have a pint of ale and listen to more gossip about the various subjects of his inquiries.
Over the next few days, Master Rodgers was nearly everywhere in Mortlak. Ostensibly, he was in search of a suitable place for wool shipping, and few suspected that his evident concern about the rumors of witchcraft in the village was anything more than the prudence of a man who wanted no troubles that might interfere with business. He even found an excuse to visit the forest several times, hoping to catch the Widow’s daughters at whatever malevolent activities they performed. By then, however, Rosamund and Blanche had finished their ointment and were no longer haunting the woods, so Master Rodgers found nothing.
Madini, who had been watching with growing impatience the slow development of matters in the mortal world, was pleased that action of some sort seemed imminent at last. She had been greatly annoyed when Charles Sledd left Mortlak without moving against Dee, but when Master Rodgers appeared to replace him her anger faded. She did not bother to follow the progress of Rodgers’s inquiry; his presence was enough for her. So long as Dee and Kelly left their house and took the crystal with them, it made no difference to Madini whether they fled in fear of exposure or were taken out in irons to a witchcraft trial.
She was, however, concerned lest she should miss their leaving, and so it was that, late one cool and cloudy September night, Madini crossed the border of Faerie into the mortal world and made her way to Mortlak. She carried with her a wand of peeled willow and a handful of the enchanted mixture known as Faerie dust. Unseen, she reached Dee’s house beside the river. She paused a moment in the street outside; then, soundlessly, she circled the house three times. On the first circuit, she drew an unbroken line on the ground with the willow wand. On the second, she traced a similar circle in the air at the level of her waist, and the wand left behind a faintly glowing afterimage as she moved it. On her third trip around the house, Madini left a trail of Faerie dust across each window ledge and doorsill.
When the third circuit was complete, Madini stood looking at the house for a long moment, studying her work. Then she whispered a word in the most ancient tongue of Faerie, and cast the remainder of her Faerie dust into the air. It spread up and over the roof of Dee’s house, sparkling for an instant though there was no light to make it do so.
With a satisfied smile, Madini returned to Faerie, certain that when the crystal left the protection of Dee’s house at last, she would know instantly. Behind her the sparkle of the Faerie dust disappeared, leaving only a faint, impossible scent of spring to hang in the fall air.
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