Lavender-Green Magic (10 page)

Tamar's finger went to her lips as she looked down again
at the children. They understood and nodded in agreement. Then she was on her way swiftly to the door.

Holly slid from the bench. She did not know who was singing outside, but she was determined to find out. Judy tried to catch at her sleeve as she slipped past. But she avoided that clutch and stole to the window, where she could just see above the sill.

Tamar was out of the door now. And there was a man, a young man, coming through the path of the herb garden toward her.

He had on leather breeches which only came below his knees, with thick stockings and big shoes with buckles on them. His shirt was white and had full sleeves gathered to tight bands about his wrists, and a wide, open collar. And his hair was long, reaching to brush his shoulders. It was black hair, and his face was brownly tanned. In his hands was a packet of leaves tied with grasses. And there was a smile on his face, though that faded as he faced Tamar.

“Good morrow, Mistress Tamar.”

“Good morrow, Master Elkins.” Tamar did not sound at all welcoming, and she was not smiling. Nor was he now. He kept looking beyond Tamar's shoulder at the house, as if he expected someone else to be there.

“Master
Elkins,” he repeated. “Are we then such unfriends, Mistress?”

“Master Elkins, well doth thee know that between us there can be no friends nor unfriends. Would thee bring ill fortune to one who has never sought such for thee?”

“Doth a man bring ill fortune when he comes in friendship,
then, Mistress? I have that which—” He was fumbling with the packet.

“Thou bringest ill fortune by thy very favor, Master Elkins. A man bespoke seeks not other doorsteps—”

He was looking angry, his face flushed, his black brows drawing together in a scowl.

“False! I am not bespoke.”

“Tell that then to Master Dimsdale, who hath said that his Patience makes ready her household linens.”

“What my father may have promised in my name will not bind me!” he exploded.

“Thou knowest well the law. An undutiful son may well walk in fear of a rope about his throat. I care not what trouble thou makest for thyself—”

“Thou wags a sour tongue, Mistress. The cause of that be plain. None seekest thee out for wooing, thus thou wouldst have it—”

“I would have it that none do speak either of witchcraft about me and mine,” she interrupted him sharply. “If thou dost hold favor, thou will not bring danger in thy train.”

“Witchcraft!” He took a step backward.

“Aye and aye! A wise woman hath always that to find fearsome. There are those ready to rise up and say thou art beguiled. Think on that, Seth Elkins! Think well on that!”

He still scowled, and threw the packet from him to fall near her skirts.

“Tittle-tattle of clacking women!”

“Have it as thou wilt, it can well be so. Leave this house in peace—”

“Seth!”

At the sound of his name the man turned swifty. Another woman had come near, not from the direction of the herb garden but around the house. She stood looking from Tamar to Seth and back again, and she was smiling. But Holly felt a little shiver down her back; that was not the kind of smile she would ever want to face.

The newcomer was dressed much as Tamar, except her skirts were of what looked to be a finer material, her apron was pure white, and her cap had a narrow edge of lace for a border, as did the collar about her shoulders. Her face was narrow with a tight disapproving mouth and a long sharp nose, while her hair, which was strained back under her cap, was of a sandy red. Her lashes and brows were so pale they looked almost as if she had none at all, and her eyes were small and mean looking. Holly hated her on sight.

“Good morrow, Goody,” she said to Tamar. “I see thou art busied, and it be meet I return at a better time.”

“There be no time better than this, Mistress Patience.” Tamar looked and sounded calm enough. “It be rather Master Elkins who must be about his affairs.”

“His affairs?” echoed Patience. “It would seem that his affairs are many. And some of them unknown.” She laughed drily.

“Aaaugh!” The sound Seth Elkins made was one of anger. He wheeled about, strode back through the herb garden as if he wished he could use his hands, which were now balled into fists, against the whole world.

Watching him go, Patience spoke. “Thou playest dangerous games, Goody.”

“I play no games, Mistress. I do not summon all who come to this door. That be well known—”

“Be it? There be many stories we have heard of dealings with the powers of the dark, Goody, and what can aid a woman who wishes a man enough to invoke them—”

“Aye, there be tales enough, Mistress,” Tamar replied, as the other paused. “But such are many times idle chatter. All know I deal only in the healing of men and animals, not to their harming. As has been proven here many times over.”

“True.” Patience nodded. But there was that in her expression which was threatening, Holly was sure. “And here be I keeping thee from those innocent labors, Goody. Thee has ready the mint? My father hath taken a mighty liking for it, saying it hath powers to cure his distress of stomach after a full dining.”

“I have it.” Tamar turned to come back inside and then she hesitated. Holly could see she was uneasy. Was it because they were there?

Holly looked back at the table, from which Crock and Judy were watching her. She made gestures with her hands, suggesting they take to cover. Judy looked bewildered. But Crock jerked his head in agreement and caught at his twin, urging her toward the far end of the room, where there was a bed built against the wall. He pushed Judy ahead of him to crawl under the bed. And Holly was following when she brushed against the edge of the table and sent one of the sticky plates clattering to the floor.

She had meant to snatch up the jacket Judy had left behind, but now she had no time, only headed wildly for the bed and crawled under it, jamming against Crock.

“Stupid!” he hissed in her ear.

“And who else finds his way here this morning, Goody?” Patience's voice reached them clearly.

“No one.”

“No one, thou sayest? Does no one wear such a jerkin as this, then? Green it be. Aye, and know we not what manner of strange folk weareth green? Many a tale of those we have heard.”

“Overseas, mayhap, but here—they come not,” Tamar returned.

“Then who hath left a green jerkin? One made of strange cloth. For this I swear be of no honest spin or weave. Look upon it, Goody—that thou must swear to also. Nor is it made for any mortal men, being too small for the wearing by such. This I will take to show—”

“You will not!” Before either Crock or Holly could grab her, Judy hurled herself from under the bed, skimming on her stomach before she could rise to her feet. Then she ran forward. Holly squirmed out after her. Judy was already tugging fiercely at the jacket Patience held. “You give me that! It's mine, Mom bought it for me—”

“Judy!” Holly cried out in despair.

Patience backed against the wall, staring at Judy as if she were some sort of wild animal. She gave a short cry as Holly joined her sister, and released the jacket, which Judy hugged to herself, scowling fiercely at Patience over it.

“You thief!” she accused shrilly.

“Imps—imps of Satan!” Patience continued along the wall with a sidewise movement. “I—let me be! I be christened Christian. Thou cannot come nigh—”

Still facing them, she reached the door, to back through it.

“I'm not either!” Judy looked frightened and ready to cry. “I'm no imp of Satan!”

Holly put her arm about her sister. “Of course you're not. She's just a silly old fusser. We—I think we'd better get out of here.”

Crock came to them. “That one's trouble, real trouble,” he said. “What are you going to do?” he asked Tamar now.

“We—have we made a lot of trouble for you?” Holly asked in turn. “If we get away fast, you can say she was making up a story about seeing us, can't you?”

Now that it had happened, there was no sign of uneasiness or trouble in Tamar's face.

“I will do what must be done, done well,” she said. There was a confident note in her voice, as if she were certain of that. But Holly still felt unhappy and unconvinced.

“We'd better get going,” Crock urged. “If that Patience goes and gets someone else—we don't belong here and they'll know it right away.”

“Aye, it is best that thou goest,” Tamar agreed. “But not without that which thou came for.”

She had gone purposefully back to the shelves in the cupboard behind her.

“We didn't come for anything, really,” Holly protested.
“Just because Judy had this dream and said she had to, and we followed her—”

“Ah, but dreams have uses, my little maid. Thee came because it was meant. These thou wilt take with thee, plant and tend, plant and tend as thy granny will tell thee.” She had been filling a small bag of coarse material with some small packets, several bundles of what looked to be dried roots. “It be coiled time which brought thee, coiled time may now release all it binds. Weary waiting—” For a moment she looked so tired and unhappy. Then that shadow was gone from her face, and she was again brisk and pleasant-seeming. “Even time hath an end. Tomkit, rouse thee, it be back again for thee also.”

Tomkit leaped lightly from the chair where he had been resting, stretched his legs both fore and aft, and trotted to the door. Tamar stood smiling.

“Will we see you again?” Judy resisted Holly's attempt to hurry her along.

“That be as will be. All things hath a season. Merry meet, merry part, and blessed be.”

She raised her hand now and gestured in the air between them. Holly could see that it was not a good-bye wave but must have some other meaning. Then they went out, following Tomkit. At the edge of the maze, without a word among themselves, they turned once to look back. All looked so peaceful under the sun. There was no sign of Tamar. But Holly felt a foreboding. What had they done in allowing Patience to see them—and—and—?

Crock pulled her arm. “Come on. Better get going before anyone else comes along.”

As the green walls of the maze closed about them, Holly tried to put in order both her thoughts and her fears.

“We—we aren't in the same world—” she ventured.

“Not in the same
time,”
Crock corrected her. “There was a guy that came to science assembly back home last year. He talked about time—and how some people really believe you can fall through time—”

“We—we can get back?” Judy demanded, her voice suddenly shrill with fear. “We
can
get back to the barnhouse—to Mom, Grandpa, and Grandma?”

She began to run. They had to race along after her, ahead of the gray shade of Tomkit sliding easily. In and out, back and forth, the way back seemed almost more tangled than it had when they had entered.

Holly had a stitch in her side, and she could hear Judy crying now as she led the way. Then she was calling out, “Mom! Mom!” in gasps of terror, which her older sister would have echoed had she believed that summons would do any good.

The green of the walls about them began to lose its coloring. They were gasping so, they had to cut their run to a stumbling walk. Also it was getting colder. Holly pulled on her jacket, made Judy pause long enough to do likewise. Now all signs of leaves were gone as they burst out into the wasteland and caught sight of the barn roof in the distance.

It was only when she saw the barn-house that Holly was free of her great fear. They
had
gotten back. She turned to
look behind her. There were no tall cats and old gate now. Just a thick mass of underbrush, which she did not believe even one as small and agile as Tomkit could wriggle a way through.

“It's—it's like it never happened,” she said.

“And we keep it that way,” Crock declared. “You hear, Judy, Holly, we keep our mouths shut about this. Nobody would believe us and—”

“But we have this.” Holly pointed to the bag Judy held. “The things to plant.”

“Pitch 'em back!” Crock ordered.

“No!”
Judy came to life. “Tamar said to plant them. We're going to—we can do that much, I think.” Holding the bag close, she pushed ahead.

Holly looked at Crock and shrugged. They both knew that Judy was not to be argued with now. Better do some thinking about how they were going to explain the bag and its contents when they got home—a good explanation without telling the whole, unbelievable truth.

Holly looked to Crock. “What do we tell Grandma—if Judy gives her all that stuff?”

He kicked at a clod of half frozen mud. “I don't know.”

“And Tamar—what's going to happen to her? That Seth Elkins, he talked as if he were mad with her, too.” Quickly Holly explained what she had seen and heard at the window. “And Tamar, she might be called a witch. With that Patience seeing us—”

Crock looked at her curiously. “It was in another time, you know. Whatever happened there must have happened a long time ago.” Only, he looked uneasy, as if that thought gave him little comfort. Tamar was too real. She could not just be a dream, or someone long ago—

“Remember what Mrs. Pigot said.” Holly pulled together her thoughts. “She said Dimsdale had been cursed by a witch, a long time ago. But Tamar—”

Somehow her thoughts would not fit there. Holly
knew
there was no ill will in Tamar.

“She couldn't have been a witch, one who cursed people! Though that Patience, she was a Dimsdale—”

“How do you know that?” Crock demanded.

Again Holly pointed out that what she had overheard proved it.

“So this Seth Elkins, he was supposed to be engaged to Patience Dimsdale, only he came to see Tamar, brought her a present,” said Crock slowly.